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Literary Smut

Valentine's Day

"He forgets. Or says he forgets all the romantic holidays. Well, I'm doing something about it!" Doreen sputtered with an uncharacteristic fury.

Marla leaned over the coffee table and took a sip of her tea, "Running off with the post man, are we?"

"No. Not my type." Her flip answer almost surprised the diminutive Doreen, causing her to squirm a little in the big armchair. She wasn't used to playing the worldly aggressor and it made her uncomfortable. She adjusted the hem of her summer dress before sliding her cup onto the table. "I have an itty-bitty secret."

Doreen, a little embarrassed, reached down for the hem of her dress and slowly drew it over her stockinged thighs. Soon the tops of her hose came into view, then the thin strips of red--slinky little garters made for snapping with a lover's teeth.

"Gosh, how daring! Marla cried out with a voice dripping with irony.

Doreen angrily yanked the skirt down. "It's a package, Marla, it's the new me! You can't just sit there and make me feel like someone dorky trying on last year's fad." She felt like crying.

Marla tilted her head quizzically, then wagged it back and forth "I didn't mean to make fun. I envy you those legs. God, what I could do with them! Fact is, they look quite delicious encased in those dark hose."

"Thanks," whispered Doreen, her head bowed in sudden embarrassment. She liked them too. In fact, she had noticed that the girls at the gym were always peeking at them. She was a little bit proud of that. She'd turn around from an exercise machine and they'd be staring...

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"Panties over or under?"


"The garters--do you have..."

"No, there are no panties."

"You're one cheap bimbo, you are!" laughed Marla. "Let's see!"

Doreen reddened, her stomach fluttering with the same butterflies it seemed to have acquired when that first dorky freshman boy tugged on the crotch of her pink cotton panties years ago. Undeterred by memory of trysts past, she began to draw the skirt over her thighs. By the time she had it wadded over her crotch it wouldn't go any further. Like a frustrated little girl she yanked but nothing gave; most of the skirt was bunched under her.

"Stand up and show me," Marla goaded.

"Why do you hafta see? You're a girl."

Marla snapped bolt upright, her large breasts jiggling inside the push-up bra she always wore. She replied with mock indignation, "I'm no girl, I'm a woman, you slut!"

This time Doreen found herself laughing comfortably right along with Marla. She glanced at her as if trying to see things about Marla she hadn't noticed before. Marla was big. She wouldn't have wanted to be burdened with Marla's body, but those giant pillowy breasts drew her attention more than she would have liked. As if she couldn't help herself, Doreen slid slowly out of the chair, the fabric of the dress catching and swishing against the smooth lattice of her hose, a friction that reminded her clearly of the holy wickedness of her intent. "Cleave unto your husband," she thought, and cleaving, tonight, is exactly what she thought she'd do. If he ever showed up, that is. She shivered slightly before reaching down and slowly sliding the hem of her dress up her thighs.

Doreen tracked Marla's eyes following the skirt's upward journey. She knew she shouldn't be feeling so much excitement over exposing herself to her girlfriend, but the warmth between her legs was spreading like fire and she couldn't help but squeeze her thighs together as her hem levitated almost without her help. Softly her thatch of sandy pubic hair tickled the backs of her fingers. There--it was up! The hem was hiked up over the thin band of garter belt resting softly on the flare of her wide hips. Marla, she noticed, was licking her lips.

Doreen held the dress up for quite a while waiting for Marla's response. Finally, the big woman settled back in her chair and smiled up at Doreen. "Um, I hate to tell you this..."

Doreen slumped. She'd read Marla wrong somehow.

Marla sent a finger wagging toward Doreen's crotch, "...but that little triangle there is passe."

Doreen, stunned a moment, fired back in exasperation, "But I tried shaving the important parts." She lifted a foot onto the coffee table, reaching down to stretch the flesh of upper thigh so that her denuded lips would come into Marla's view, an act that bubbled like magma out of her rising frustration. She could never have imagined exposing herself like this, but there she was, lewdly opening her naked pussy lips to her friend's view...

"Delicious," Marla replied, framing Doreen's pubic area with her bejeweled hands and peering through them. "I like the subterfuge--with all that big tangle of hair covering up the soft, candied center until the exact moment you decide to expose it. And I'm particularly glad you've exposed it first to me!"

Doreen reddened for about the thousandth time. Finally she asked softly, "you a lez or something?"

Marla softened, reaching down for her cup before speaking, "No, I don't make a habit of propositioning women. Still, you are incredibly attractive. Your body is to die for. That glowing skin of youth; I find it quite alluring. I'm not a 'lez' but frankly, if you'd let me touch you, I'd likely jump at the chance." She reached down to replace her tea cup, allowing it to nudge the stockinged foot still planted on the table.

"Oh, um, sorry," Doreen mumbled as she started to slide her foot toward the edge. She'd just about gotten it off when her toes seemed to resist, curling up and pausing at edge of the table like novice cliff divers pausing before making an inaugural group jump. Then she froze, feeling Marla's fingers loosely wrapping themselves around her ankle. She stared down, searching for meaning in Marla's large and watery eyes, which happened to be vacillating between the pink lips of the cunt gaping before her and Doreen's questioning baby blues. She had options. She could pull away. She should pull away.

But she didn't. She couldn't. She was frozen in an absurdly erotic pose, hoping that the wetness between those freshly shaven lips wouldn't betray her. She could almost smell her lust.

Marla's hand grazed her calf. Doreen felt the cool brush of the rings, the heat of the strong hands as they traveled upward, pausing a while at the warm hollow behind her knee. Doreen trembled. The touch was almost unbearable, light enough that she wanted to move into it--but she resisted without knowing why. She had begun to smell herself, the small of an animal in heat.

She suddenly felt dizzy; her body swayed; her eyes snapped shut. Then she felt the light brush of a jewel's hard edge against the hand still clinging to the flesh of her thigh. She thought she'd be gushing by the time her friend's chubby fingers brushed against her pussy's exposed lips.

Finally the probing finger burried itself. "Hmmm, you really are glad I'm here, aren't you?" Marla whispered.

Doreen tried but she couldn't help but squeeze Marla's finger, trapping it in the hungry maw of her cunt before jamming it against the clotted knot of her clit. "Cunt, oh my glorious and gushing cunt," she repeated to herself, the lascivious words a prayer to her newly found lust. She was startled with the next words to slither out of her dark mind, "rub it hard. I need it hard." She began swaying her hips in earnest, her head thrown back, sawing that trapped finger roughly between her shaven lips, forcing it to bang against her clit, back and forth, harder, occasionally throwing her hips forward with abandon to see if the very tip of trapped finger would brush against the pink pucker of her little ass and it did--and it surprised her no end, not that a finger could bring her that much pleasure but that she was thinking about things and places she'd never allowed herself to think about before...

"Come for me, baby," Marla whispered as if she were afraid to break the trance.

"I will. I will come like you've never seen," thought Doreen. A nail grazed her anus followed by a knuckle against her clit. Then again. And again. And slower now. And harder. And then her knees just about buckled; she felt a hotness spread across her breasts then downward to her trapped cunt. Waves of heat spread across her whole body, shaking her. She had to be rescued from falling by Marla's strong arm cupping the small of her back.

With Marla's help she shuffled back to her armchair and collapsed into it. She was wet all right. And she stunk of her own sex.

"Jesus, Doreen, that was--if I do say so myself--quite hot." Marla said, reaching for a napkin and fanning her face with it. Doreen hoped she wouldn't have to reciprocate; Marla was toying with the hem of her very own skirt and it seemed likely she would suggest something that still mortified Doreen, despite the guilty feeling that comes from being the only one to have been satisfied in a tryst.

Doreen's worries were erased by the comic ring of the cell phone still nestled in her purse. She got up unsteadily, rummaged through her purse while thinking of how slick her inner thighs felt when she walked. Finally she found the phone, flipped it open and muttered her hello.

It was Roger. Working late again. Bastard. "You can't mean it. Not tonight. I had plans for us!" She looked despondently at Marla, her whole body shaking in rage. Marla mouthed "Roger?" and Doreen nodded.

It didn't take long for Marla to snap out of her chair and grab the phone. "Listen up, Roger. You got a hot little number here at home who needs some of whatever you're packing. It better be goddamn big and ready, too."

Marla tapped her toes as she listened, glancing up at Doreen who was frantically trying to stop the inevitable by mouthing "no" and waving her hands in horror.

But Marla continued, "How do I know? Jeez, Roger, can't you just smell it? The woman's a hot bundle of sexually ping-ponging nerves here. There's just so much I can do, ya know?"

Doreen slumped into her chair. Holy Moly, this was something.

"Roger, I've got a grand idea. Are you alone in your office? Sitting in a comfy chair? Fine then," she chirped happily, glancing over to where Doreen had slumped in her chair with her face held tightly between her hands.

"Ok, now imagine this. Doreen comes home from her workout all sweaty--wait--make that glowing...and while she's showering she grabs her razor and starts shaving her legs. But she doesn't stop when she gets to that soft little crease between her thigh and her pussy. No, she keeps on shaving, making her pussy all silky smooth and yummy. For you, Roger, for you!"

Doreen peeked out between her fingers. Marla winked. She was enjoying this. And when Marla enjoyed something, you didn't couldn't get her to stop no matter what.

"How do I know? Dare I counter such impertinence? Just a minute--your dick out yet? Huh? Because you're going to want to extract it at some point and now's a good time.

"Roger, I'm going to tell you something. I've just this moment managed to wrench my hand from Doreen's sopping pussy, where she had it jammed in there so tight the circulation stopped for a while...I'll live. Now, it's my duty to tell you that little Doreen, bless her heart, didn't want my hand there. At least not at first. What she wanted was that big stick you got between your hands there mister husband...."

Marla winked again at Doreen. Oh, the shame of it!

"But she got a good orgasm out of it, that's for sure. And yes, I know orgasms. I just about had one myself, and I've still got my panties on."

Marla caught Doreen's eye and comically wrenched her own knees apart in a signal to Doreen to spread hers. Doreen sat up in the chair. Did this maniac woman really want her to do that?

Marla threw herself back onto the couch, spreading her own legs lewdly and staring at Doreen so wide-eyed Doreen thought she'd hurt herself. Then came the diddling motion.

"Good lordy, she wants me to play with myself!" thought Doreen.

"Are you nice and hard Roger? Got it going? Yeah? Well, it may pain you to think so, but your sweet Doreen has a couple of very wet fingers doing nasty things to the smooth, hairless flesh of her sopping pussy right now. And Roger, it's all framed between the bright fuck-me red of a brand new garter belt purchased for just this occasion. Yeah, Valentine's day. And the pussy leakage is just about down to the tops of those fancy French hose she also bought for the occasion. Roger, just between you and me, I think these clothes are making little Doreen into quite a different woman. I mean, she's quite horny right now and will stop and nothing..."

Doreen, meanwhile, had given up on the notion of propriety. She was diddling her swollen clitty quite enthusiastically. It was a goose and gander sort of thing she reminded herself...

"Yes, Roger, she's really got it going. Now she's plunging two fingers deep....wait, no it's three fingers sliding almost without resistance into her gushing cunt."

Doreen hadn't even had the slightest inclination toward stuffing her pussy with her own fingers but took the hint anyway. It wasn't half bad once she had slipped them in.

Pretty soon Marla found herself taking the hints given off by the suddenly lust-fueled Doreen, "Now four! You can hear it, four fingers squishing into that pretty little shaven pussy. Can she get her whole hand in there? Do ya think?"

Doreen shook her head no. Marla glowered back. It occurred to Doreen that it was as if she had spent her whole life trying to please people, especially glowering ones, and it had to stop someday. She understood that. "Tomorrow perhaps," she thought as she tried valiantly to wedge her entire hand into her swollen pussy.

Marla watched in rapt attention. To Doreen this had the effect of twisting the little crank that protruded from her back that got her wound up in the first place. She just had to get those fingers in there. She tilted her head back, then, with all the concentration she could muster she brought her chin to her chest and wedged her hand until it was all in. It didn't feel half bad. Not at all.

"Ok, Roger, yeah, I'm still here. It's in. Her whole hand up to the wrist. Know what? I wanna kiss it as it comes out. I wanna hear the suction as she slowly pulls it from her pussy. I want it to brush under my nose so I can smell sex and hear sex and get dissolved in her sex."

Doreen, who'd gone back to tracing delicious circles around her clit with her glistening hand, looked up at Marla, half wishing she'd do what she'd just told her husband, half mortified at the thought. But as she dug a finger into her swollen sex her inhibitions waned.

"Damn, Roger, that was sorta fast, wasn't it? Sorry I can't supply a tissue. Ask your secretary."

"Don't let him off the hook, Marla, he can do better," mumbled a surprised Doreen.

"But he's, um, finished," said Marla with a quizzical look.

"He's nowhere near finished," huffed Doreen, motioning to Marla to hand her the phone. "Hon, I'm going to let Marla's tongue have a rest from tormenting you. I'm going to give it a nice massage. With my pussy, Roger. She's right, maybe I wanted you at first, but now, since you're spent and all, I think maybe she'll have to be the one who gets me off."

Marla was already drawing her sweater over her head. Her skirt was next.

"Hon, you'd really like getting your hard little cock between the boobies I'm looking at right now." Doreen said with gushing authority into the little phone. Marla blushed as she unhooked her bra, her breasts tumbling out like melons held in a thin plastic bag. "Yes sir, if you were standing here right now you'd want to have me get you all lubed up so you could start pistoning that cock of yours between those bodacious knockers. Wait, Hon, while I suck on a nipple..."

Marla almost missed her cue. But it wasn't long before a fat nipple prodded Doreen's brilliant red lips.

"Mmmmm. Good. They'd taste better, though, with some man-juice on 'em!" Doreen said gleefully. Marla looked on with a certain amount of wonder. She'd obviously never heard Doreen talk like this. Neither had Doreen. But she wasn't so surprised that she couldn't commence peeling her panties off either.

Doreen took it all in stride for a moment then blurted, "Didya know Marla's completely shaved? Yup. Pussy slick as a whistle. You'd like that, wouldn't you Hon? What? Big again? Wanna rub till it hurts?

Doreen looked at the naked Marla and motioned between her spread legs. Then she opened them wider, as wide as she could, so that her legs were splayed almost 90 degrees from her body. Flexibility was a wonderful thing and Marla's astonished look reflected the fact.

"God what my pussy must look like right now," said Doreen to neither of them in particular. She was thinking of how much inner pinkness was exposed. She wished she was making love to herself, not just masturbating but actually being able to see inside her own sex as she licked, sucked, and prodded at it.

Marla, meanwhile, had scrunched her big body below the couch seat in preparation for her big tonguing scene, hesitating a moment before nipping at the ripe little clit and causing Doreen to practically jump out of her skin.

"Yousers!" exclaimed Doreen. "Roger, you wouldn't believe what a girls tongue on your clit feels like! It's...different. I know you're not lucky enough to have a clit and all but you'll have to take my word for it--it's heaven."

Doreen had to stop for a while as Marla had her quite worked up in no time. Roger wouldn't miss anything though--the heavy breathing and little yips coming from Doreen would probably suffice for a good while.

"Oh, Marla, not there!" Doreen exclaimed when Marla, gathering erotic steam, was at the end of a journey that started with a long lick up the slick mountainside of swollen clit, across the oily pink divide between lips shaved smooth as honey-soaked silk, and ending up delicately prodding the puckered hole down below with her stiffened tongue.

"I should stop?" asked Marla.

"and I'll kill you...." huffed Doreen in resignation to her lust. There was a lot of this kind of loving she hadn't figured on liking. And suddenly she'd breached one of those walls her libido was enclosed in. The other side was a whole lot more exciting than the pen she'd been wallowing in and she wasn't through. She pushed Marla's head down with both hands. Sploosh.

Then she had an epiphany. She'd leave the phone down there so Roger could hear her sloppy pussy as it was poked and prodded.

But there would also be a background beat: Doreen wailing, Doreen egging Marla on. "You go baby. Yeah, get that tongue of yours deep in there then nibble on my clit a while. Yeah, baby." Smut-star talk. She'd heard it somewhere...

She had no idea if Roger was even on the line of course, except that he probably wouldn't want to miss a single delicious lick of the goings-on. As she sped toward her orgasm all thoughts of her malice toward Roger evaporated. After all, she was getting hers. In spades.

Marla palmed the twin white globes of Doreen's cute little ass, working a finger into the crack while her fat tongue lathered up Doreen's clit. Doreen threw her head back and looped her slender thighs around Marla's shoulders, pushing just a little, feeling the tongue spread out over her hot sex. Then it came--like a flood, with all the thunder and lightening she'd ever immagined. It might have lasted forty days and forty nights for all Doreen knew; time seemed wadded and compressed, just like the sensations spreading throughout her body that were familiar but thousands of times more intense than she'd ever felt before. And with one big buck that sent Marla hard into her clit, Doreen felt like an electrical shock course through her body sending her limbs akimbo, throbbing, jerking spasmodically, her flat stomach rippling and heaving as if she were crying--but if it was crying it was the good kind...

When Doreen gathered herself enough to look down she saw Marla's face resting on her thigh. Her makeup was smeared, the clear juices had begun to flake and dry on her cheeks. She reached down and gently brushed some away. It was different than touching a man. And then she felt another thing she hadn't felt before. She was leaking prodigiously. And whatever it was, it wasn't Roger's.

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