TABOO TALES(erotica)

Bec rolled onto her side, so that she was facing her. “I’m not like you,” she said. “I don’t make friends easily. It took ages before I found Jeff.”

“He was your first, wasn’t he?” It was too dark to see her, but she sensed the girl’s nod. “Well, the first always takes the longest.”

“You’re just making that up!” There was a trace of laughter in her voice.

Chelsea laughed softly. “I’m not – promise! Cross my heart -“. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness and she could see Bec’s head faintly against the white of the pillow. The girl’s hair was silky under her fingers and she smoothed it gently, her fingertips brushing over her temple and the soft skin behind her ear. “I took ages to find the first guy, and then had three all within a year.”

“Really?” Bec’s voice was curious. “So how many boyfriends have you had?”

Chelsea chuckled. “Are you asking me how many men I’ve slept with, Bec?”

“I guess.”

“That’s a whole conversation. Enough to know that some are good and some are bad, though.” She paused for a moment. “And nobody in the last year.”

“Don’t you miss having someone?”

Chelsea was silent for a moment, thinking about the question. Her anger at Ben had sustained her for a while, but now it was just a dull ache, every moment of the day. She wasn’t ready for another relationship yet.

“Sometimes, Bec. Sometimes I just want to hold someone – you know, to share the day’s problems … and then I wake up in the morning and I’m glad I don’t have all the complications of a relationship to worry about.” She moved her fingers down, the tips sliding lightly over the nape of the girl’s neck and the soft buttery skin of her shoulder, sensing its warmth and plasticity. “Being on your own is OK, sometimes – you don’t have to answer to anybody but yourself.”

“But it’s lonely, too.”

“Yes, sometimes it is, and there’s nothing good in that.” She laughed. “Now, missy – we have to go to work in the morning, so we’d better get some sleep!”RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

“Tomorrow’s Saturday – are you working, then?”

Chelsea laughed. “No… I’d just forgotten which day of the week it was. I need to go to sleep now anyway.”

Can I stay here?”

“Of course you can. Don’t snore and don’t pinch all the bedclothes.” Chelsea patted her on the shoulder lightly, rolled over so that they were back -to -back and closed her eyes. For a while she lay quietly, luxuriating in the feeling of having someone in her bed. The girl was right – it had been lonely on her own. She liked Bec a lot, and to her surprise she found that she was looking forward to waking up with her in the morning. It’s just the companionship, she told herself, nothing more. But the warm glow at the base of her stomach told a different story.

When she woke up the bedroom was suffused with grey light and she could hear the sound of rain on the metal roof and the gurgle of water in the drain outside the window. Bec was still asleep, her head on the pillow close to Chelsea. A swathe of hair had fallen forward over her face and she was breathing lightly, her lips slightly apart. She had pushed the covers back a little and one arm was flung outwards, the strap of her nightie displaced so that Chelsea could see the swell of one breast, the nipple peeping over the lace edging and her skin soft and creamy.

She felt a surge of tenderness towards the girl. Although she was only a couple of years younger than herself, she seemed so vulnerable – and yet she had an irrepressible spirit and a quiet sense of humour that Chelsea found appealing. She regarded Bec’s face: seeing the delicate arcs of her eyebrows and the dark lashes closed lightly over her eyes. There was a sprinkling of freckles over her nose and her lips were full, soft and well shaped, turned up at the corners slightly to give a sense of fun. Her face was square, framed by the bob of her hair, and the firm chin gave her strength and determination. It was a face you could easily get used to each morning, she thought, and she smiled.

Bec’s eyes opened, soft and unfocussed with sleep. For a moment there was confusion in them, and then she remembered where she was and she smiled at Chelsea in return. They lay for a moment looking at each other, each of them experiencing a growing awareness of the sudden intimacy of their situation. Chelsea lifted her arm and gently brushed aside the lock of hair on her forehead, her fingers lingering on the girl’s skin. She could see the want in Bec’s eyes – almost a look of desperation, a fear of rejection and the need for someone to hold her. She could hear the rain hammering on the roof above their heads, adding to their closeness, their bodies warm and secure in the cocoon of her bed.

On impulse she leaned forward and kissed the girl softly on the lips, her touch as light as a feather. She could feel their softness and warmth, taste the honeydew fragrance of her mouth. For a moment nothing happened, and then Bec opened her lips to open slightly, increasing the pressure, kissing her back. Chelsea felt the girl’s arm encircle her, pulling her down against the warmth of her body, feeling the soft press of her breasts against her own and the hard nub of her nipples stiffening beneath her. She felt Bec’s tongue brush into her mouth, small and slippery, easing between her lips and then retreating, and she was aware of the press of her thighs against her own.

She pulled away, looking down at her. Bec’s eyes were bright and her lips open, and there was colour in her cheeks as she stared up at her.

“Are you OK with this?” Chelsea whispered.

Bec nodded. “God, yes!”

They kissed again, exploring the soft contours of each other’s lips, their tongues touching and dancing against each other, slippery and warm. Chelsea could feel her heart hammering in her chest and the tight clutch of excitement building in her belly. Her senses were alive to everything that was happening: the softness of the body under her – yielding and fragrant, its soft curves and malleable flesh so different to the hard, angular muscle of the men she had known. The scent of her body, too, a trace of perfume from the night before – apple and cinnamon in her hair and the warm, milky smell of her skin; and her taste – a hint of sweet wine and honeydew melon on the enveloping softness of her lips. It was all so different to what she was used to – her senses were spinning, overcome by the deep well of pleasure that had suddenly opened before her, drawing her downwards in a spinning vortex of desire.

She could feel Bec’s hands sliding over the material of her nightie, her fingers catching in the decorative lace and ribbon, and she broke away for a moment to strip it off and toss it aside. Her breasts were released, fuller and heavier than Bec’s, and she could feel the girl’s eyes on them and then the tentative touch of her fingers brushing over their fullness. Chelsea leaned forward a little to give her better access, and she watched as the girl’s mouth closed over one nipple, her lips teasing it, sucking gently before releasing it again. In the pale, grey light Chelsea could see the shine of saliva on her skin, the nipple stiff and aroused, and she could see Bec looking up at her.

For a moment Chelsea hesitated, aware that she was on the edge of a precipice. She could stop now, pull back from the brink and they would laugh about it awkwardly later in the day, and life would go on; or she could pluck the soft, warm fruit of the body before her. She regarded the girl in her bed – the open lips and her hot, panting breath, her hair spread over the pillow in a shining curtain. Bec was waiting, aware of her uncertainty and its reason, and she had an expression of desperate longing on her face.

Chelsea smiled down at her. “Take off your nightie, Bec.”

A flash of relief crossed the girl’s face… or was it triumph? She pulled the nightie over her head, the scrap of blue silk fluttering free, and lay back. Chelsea pulled the bedclothes aside. Bec’s body was quiescent, ready for her to take; the soft curves and firm flesh an open invitation. She crouched down and ran her tongue over her skin, down from the creamy swell of her breasts and over her midriff, dipping into the little hollow of her navel and then across the flat plain of her belly to where the thin elastic of her panties began. She heard the soft sigh of the girl’s pleasure and felt the stretch of her body responding to her touch, arching up against her mouth.

She could feel Bec’s hands reaching out, pulling at her thighs to bring her closer, and she swung herself over the girl, her knees either side of her shoulders and her buttocks towards her face. She could feel the trickle of her own juices, held back by the thin fabric of her briefs, and she wondered if the material was stained. Her awareness was heightened, each moment a bright sliver of light and sound under the microscope of her consciousness: the wild thudding of her heart beating in her chest and the pulsing of her blood through her arteries; the creak of the bedsprings as their bodies moved gently together, and the splatter of rain on the window beside the bed.

She lowered her torso, hunkering down to bring her hips closer to the girl’s face, feeling Bec’s breath on the inside of her thighs as light as a gossamer breeze, and she felt the girl’s hands reach up to her thighs. For a moment Chelsea could feel the coolness of air on her heated flesh as Bec eased aside the gusset of her panties, and then there was the sudden touch of soft, wet lips on her vulva, and the slow slide of the girl’s tongue over the opening to her body. Her back arched, pushing her mons harder against Bec’s face, and she felt her vagina contract violently, releasing a little squeeze of warm juice. She rotated her hips gently, rubbing her labia over the girl’s face, delighting in the press of her tongue upwards into her cunt.