Category: lesbians

Bachelor Party Creampie

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Hi there, my name is Tina and I’m writing this episode down at the request of my husband, Rob. You see, I recently had an amazingly hot sexual episode (one of many, actually) and Rob got so turned on by it he wanted me to share the details with the world. So, for what it’s worth, here we go!

First, let me tell you a little about myself. I’m 32 years old, and I’ve been married to Rob for 8 years. We enjoy a very hot and active sex life, and we are into swinging with other couples. I’m 5’ 8” tall, 120 lbs, with brunette hair. Rob & I both workout, and I also teach an aerobics class. Rob is always telling me how hot my body is, and he gets turned on when my tight ass draws looks in public.

Anyway, this particular adventure started with Cindy, a young girl who is in my advanced aerobics class. She’s petite, 21 years old and blonde. She’s never missed a class, and I have to say that when I’m teaching I find my eyes drawn to her all the time. I think she started to pick up on this, when she sees me checking her out she started giving me shy smiles. I thought it was cute, and I started to think it might be fun to have a three way with her and Rob.

One day after class, about 2 weeks ago, she approached me as I was stretching to loosen up after the lesson. Everyone else had left the studio; it was just the two of us. I was seated on the floor working a hamstring muscle and she asked if she could stretch with me, as she was feeling a little tight.

“Sure,” I replied. She was wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a crop top, and her whole body was covered with a sheen of sweat. I couldn’t help wondering how it would taste if I ran my tongue all over her body. I could see that the crotch of her shorts were particularly sweaty, and I had to push the thought of burying my face in there out of my head, otherwise I’d be heading to the showers to rub myself off.

She lay down on the mat, and asked “Can you just stretch one leg at a time for me?” I took her leg by the ankle as she lay on her back, and gently pushed it up and back. Looking down I could see her pussy lips outlined through her thin shorts, this girl didn’t like wearing panties when she worked out, another plus!

I released her leg and took the other one, stretching it the same way. “Oh, that feels so good,” she said, “almost as good as sex. Too bad my boyfriend is out of town, he always likes to get some when I come home from aerobics,”

Hmm, I thought, This is definitely starting to look like an opportunity. I said, “You’re really tight, let me just massage your hamstring a little while it’s in the stretched position.” I held her ankle with one hand and kneaded down the back of her leg with the other, all the way to her ass. Then I “accidentally” brushed her pussy as I continued massaging.

She moaned and said “That feels so good, I think I pulled a muscle in my butt, can you please work on that?”

I didn’t need a second invitation, I let go of her leg and she rolled over. I started at her hips, and gave a vigorous massage, running my hands over the thin shorts and down between her legs. “Spread your legs a little so I can work on your upper thighs,” I suggested. She obliged, and as I touched her I could see that her crotch was looking a lot wetter than it did before.
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Substitute Seduction

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From the moment Gina strutted into the classroom, I knew she would be trouble. I also knew I had to have her.

As it happened, the day I met Gina was my very first day as a substitute teacher. I was to be teaching at St. Vincent’s, which was an all-girls Catholic school. I had been warned that the girls there were famous for being incorrigible teases, who made it their job to create as much sexual tension as possible for any male substitute who was unfortunate enough to be assigned to them. The school had made an effort to correct the situation by hiring only female substitute teachers, but what they didn’t know was that I was bisexual. Not only that, but I have a serious schoolgirl fetish; I love the way they manage to exude such raw sexuality through supposedly demure and proper outfits.

I believe that whoever designed the look of their uniforms was most certainly male. I love the way their crisp, white blouses cling to the curves of their young, perky breasts, and how the bolder temptresses constantly hike up their skirts to reveal more and more of their sexy, smooth legs. And those thigh-highs! I love the contrast between the top of the stocking and the emerging thigh, which provides an enticing clue to what lies just above.

On this particular day, I was dressed in my most “no nonsense” uniform- a perfectly pressed white blouse, black pencil skirt which ended just above my knees, and a pair of low-heeled shoes. My long, wavy brown hair was pulled back into a polished up do, and I wore only the slightest bit of makeup; jet-black eyeliner to make my gray eyes stand out, a touch of blush to give my cheeks slight color, and pale pink lipstick. I decided against wearing any perfume, and had instead rubbed a feminine rose-scented lotion into my skin after my shower that morning.

As I breezed into the classroom with my black briefcase tucked under my arm, I thought I was ready for anything. I was determined to be entirely professional, as I didn’t want to risk losing my newly-acquired job, especially on my very first day! I knew this would take a great deal of self control, however, because I was assigned to a classroom of girls who were in their last year, i.e. 18 and completely legal. I had to resist temptation.

“Good morning girls, my name is Miss Kay,” I announced, surveying the classroom. I immediately noticed that there was an empty seat. Just as I was about to ask who was missing, an attractive young girl flounced into the room, sat down heavily in her seat, and gave me in haughty look, arms folded across her chest, as if daring me to reprimand her. I rose to the challenge.

“And your name is…?” I asked.

“Gina.”

“Gina, please go to the office and get a late slip.”

“But I’m not late!” she protested, rising from her desk and placing her hands firmly on her hips. There were muffled whispers around the room as the rest of the girls undoubtedly wondered how I was going to handle the unruly student.

“All right then” I countered, “Instead of going to the office and getting a late slip, you can stay for detention with me after school for being late AND giving me attitude.”

The room was silent as the girls eagerly waited for a response. I had put on a fearless face, but I was quaking inside. Not only was this girl unwavering in her effort to challenge my authority, she was absolutely stunning.
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Librarian

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Ryan pushed the heavy cart containing at least on hundred books down the narrow library aisles, stopping occasionally to return the volumes to their proper place. To most people rummaging around a bunch of dusty books and periodicals would be a chore to be avoided at all costs, but Ryan was different, he loved feel of the books in his hands and the aroma of old manuscripts filling his nose, but especially the wealth of information found like buried treasure between the sometimes frayed covers. He was only eighteen, but already he knew what he wanted to do with his life, go to college, major in library science, and become a curator for some large research library. He wasn’t interested in checking books in and out, or sending out past due notices to tardy borrowers, no, he wanted to get into old manuscripts, first editions, and rare writings from days gone by. For now, though, just being able to work at something he truly loved was enough for him. He glanced at his watch, and said to himself, “Five minutes to closing, I better get hustling, it’s gonna take at least an hour to get all these put away!” Working at a quick pace, Ryan was almost finished restacking, when it happened, standing on the short step stool needed to reach the upper shelf, his foot slipped and he came tumbling to the floor, landing with a loud thud. The force with which he had hit the floor had been noisy enough that the head librarian, Miss Vance had heard it and brought her running. When she got to him, what she found was and unconscious Ryan, with blood trickling down his forehead.

Miss Vance practically ran to the rest room and wet a towel with cold water and rushed back to Ryan. When she got there he was trying to shake out the cob webs, but his head was pounding, and he was still too shaky to stand up. Miss Vance gently dabbed the blood from his brow and asked, “What in the world happened Ryan, you just must be more careful!?!” Ryan tried to stand up, but slipped back to the floor, only to be caught in Miss Vance’s arms. “Don’t try to get up yet,” she ordered in her usual stern voice, “just lie back and relax for a few minutes!” Miss Vance was a very strict and formal woman, about fifty Ryan guessed, with a manor that bespoke respect and decorum. No matter the weather or time of year, she always wore a white blouse, a medium length skirt, and a ladies blazer or jacket, usually gray or dark blue, while sometimes to add a little color she would wear a gay scarf around her neck. With her black hair pulled back in a severe bun, and her erudite personality, it wasn’t easy to carry on a conversation with her, let alone have any type of interpersonal relationship, but right now he was as close to Miss Vance as he ever had been, and in his hazy mental state due to his fall he wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. Although she wore unrevealing clothing and acted cool and aloof to her employees, Harriett Vance couldn’t disguise the fullness of her body which was dominated by a large full chest that she tried to keep hidden from view!
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