That was this summer. I had very long relationship and last year i got ridden of it. So I sex occasionally wit various girls till then. One night this September I was very very tired of everything. Job went finally better and some private investing also, but I had being working for 14 hours a day at time. It was About 1 am in the morning and was just went of from long shower and about to lay down on my bad.The voice from the other side of cell phone was very pleasant, some kind of baby talking voice. Voice said" Annnn' what what do want from me now?...LOL.. i said "who is this?&... Continue»
Dear Dirty Diary,
Louise advertised in Cornwall, Messina, Montreal, Plattsburg and Burlington newspapers and had brochures printed for the Cornwall travel bureau and outlet malls. Erin and Jeremy suggested they should put adds in This Week back home to draw people we knew down for visits. Within days of their ad, we got a request for lodgings for the third weekend in September from some Whitby people. Given directions for our shortcut through the States, two weary twenty-something women arrived at our door shortly after lunch. We tried to contain our excitement as Louise welcomed our very first guests.
Louise registered Amy and Michelle (of the same last name) and showed them the guest rooms. The s****rs chose the first room because they thought it might be quieter. An hour or so later, they came down to the kitchen more refreshed appearing and asked for some coffee. While I perked some, Louise gave them a tour of the main floor. Doug followed his nose down to the freshly brewed coffee, where Louise introduced he and I to our guests. As we sipped together at the dining room table, the two young women peeked at us frequently and whispered back and forth. They nodded eventually, complimented Louise on her coffee and then asked for refills.
Amy nudged Michelle impatiently until she looked directly at me and began, “You’re not quite like we pictured you to be. You’re thinner and softer looking than I pictured you. Amy figured Louise would be more butch than she is and we both thought Doug would be fatter and have more hair.”
The three of us must have look utterly confused, so Amy continued: “Your ad in the paper caught my eye where it said about “Your hosts, Louise, Laura and Doug”, and when I showed it to Michelle, she recognized your email address. We talked it over and thought it’d be neat to meet the people who stole away the last of our innocence!” Michelle looked at me as she said “I’m the one that emailed back your diary before we handed in your computer to the police.”
Oh my God, I didn’t know whether to hug her or run for cover, as the phrases “ Damn you Laura!” and “Yours Hatefully” came to mind. Louise blushed, realizing who they were and what they knew about us. A numb sensation in my thighs signaled me that my legs were squeezed together way too tight. After a short period of uncomfortable silence, Doug began to pry with measured tact.
He began, “And how have the b*****rs dealt with your loss of innocence?”
Michelle replied, “Had a certain gullible person not decided that bald was beautiful and showed her shorn pussy to her d***ken fisherman husband, who in turn loudly announced it to his d***ken twin b*****r, who also discovered that bald was beautiful, they’d have never known about us.”
Amy retaliated with: “You knew what was in Laura’s journal long before you let me take it from you and start reading it! And it’s not my fault that our perverted husbands spy on us kissing and groping each other. It’s your husband that came up with the idea of having us do Show and Tell all the time!”
Louise interrupted their squabbling with, “Ladies, Ladies, regardless of how this change in your lives came about, has it been such a bad thing?”
Amy cooed, “Oh no, our husbands insist upon doing everything together and now Michelle and I have more to do now than sit around, get liquored up and bitch about them.”
We all looked to reserved little Michelle for her views on the matter. She cautiously began, “I felt terrible after our first fling but after a week or two, the physical side-effects of my little lamb being sheared began to rule my every waking minute. Every time I walk or climb stairs, those pleasantly tickling sensations made everything else seem much less important. To make a long story short, now I spend so much time playing with myself or enticing someone else to play with it, that I’ve lost touch with my morals. I was brought up by a Sex is for Making Babies, mother and here I am now, doing all these Not for Making Babies Things with my s****r-in-law, of all people, and I’m just at wit’s end!”
I asked her if Amy was much of the problem, to which she snapped, “No, I’m the problem! But she sure doesn’t help my guilt feelings much.” I suggested from my experience that her sexual desire might lessen if she let her bush grow back in, to which she replied: “We’ve tried that and it helps, but every time we’re alone together, we agree we miss the tickles. One thing leads to another and the next thing we know, we’re naked in bed and massaging in skin cream after shaving each other’s stubble.”
Louise interrupted and asked, “Doesn’t Amy have similar reservations about your affair?”
Amy answered “Sometimes, but when we try to clean up our act and be good little wives, whenever Michelle’s lush body gets within touching range, I get right out of control and we’re back at each other again.”
Douglas, the Logical, suggested, “You know Michelle, you could push away Amy’s advances if you really want to end your affair. As a c***d I was m*****ed several times by my homosexual cousin, but I ended it eventually by refusing to play his games in spite of how good they felt and how much I enjoyed them.”
To no one’s surprise Michelle confessed, “It’s not always her that initiates the games and as you inferred, it’s really hard to say no to something that feels so good.” Tears started to form in Michelle’s reddening eyes as she stammered out, “I’m just beside myself and don’t know how much longer I can live with my guilt, so I’m here to get answers. You people are old enough to be our parents and shouldn’t you know better than to mess with tradition? And how do your k**s cope with your sexual preoccupations?”
I cleared my throat, summoned up the strength of my matured convictions and told her that our c***dren had been raised with Doug’s liberal views on sexuality, were taught absolutely everything as teenagers and were allowed as much freedom as they needed, provided they used disease prevention and birth control methods. I also pointed out that had she not pried into the most private document in the computer they kept from my stolen van, none of this would ever have become an issue. I told her she should have known better than to open Pandora’s box and now she had to live with what she had learned.
“But how did you all get so perverted?” Michelle asked in desperation, to which Louise replied, “In this household perversion can be defined only by its members. Our guidelines are simple. If it feels good to someone and no one feels pain, it’s not perverted!”
On the offensive, Doug began, “Has Amy ever really hurt you?” When she shook her head, No, he continued, “Then nothing perverted has happened since you’ve lost your innocence and the only real hurt is to your conscience, your Mother’s Conscience, am I right?” The poor thing looked at him in sad submission and then he uttered this outrageous Dougism: “So basically your mind is confused because fate has f***ed you to discover, in the prime of your life, that women are much better at pleasing other women and now that your lust is unleashed, your mother’s conscience is making you feel guilty about feeling so good! I believe the only solution to Michelle’s dilemma is to sit she and Amy on one living room sofa, park Louise and Laura on the other couch. Put on some nice girly music or video, talk with my ladies, appreciate their happiness and observe the love that took them forty-eight years to discover. In the meantime, I will go upstairs, put on my headphones and listen to some Jimmy Buffet.”
Doug stood up, turned his back to us and then sang out: “We are the people your parents warned you about. We are the people, you just can’t figure out. We are the people, who love to twist and shout. Shake it up baby.” Another chorus of “We are the people” faded away as the silly ass did the rumba upstairs to the beat of a steel drum band only he and I could hear.
Terribly embarrassed by Doug’s flippant statements, I tried not to make eye contact with the girls, but “Could we watch an Andrew Blake video then, pretty please?” came out of the grinning mouth of Amy. On a coffee and sugar enhanced high, she was something to behold. Her short curly auburn hair framed her radiant smile and I just knew it could be a long afternoon. “See, I told you it’d be all right!” She squealed and planted a hugely erotic kiss on a bewildered Michelle’s lips.
Feeling completely responsible for Michelle’s dilemma, I began a heart to heart talk with the girls. While Louise got her tape, we talked further of love and commitment but above all I stressed that they please themselves first and never feel guilt for doing so. When I pointed out that in polls, over half of open-minded female college students in North America would seriously consider an affair with another woman, Amy told me that they lived together all through their college years. I told Michelle to ignore her mother’s puritan values and enjoy her elite status as a truly liberated, educated woman blessed with an inquiring mind. Amy asked if a lesbian relationship could override maternal instincts.
As Louise loaded her tape in the VCR she replied, “I’ve had affairs with several women over the last twenty years and while maternal instincts popped up occasionally, most of the time they were nowhere to be found in bed with the women I knew.”
With that, perky Amy patted Michelle’s knee, grinned and said to her, “No matter what then, it’s you and me forever, Roommate.”
I poured the apple-cranberry wine they brought us from Archibald’s and we toasted, “To girlfriends in love” as the titles of “Captured Beauty” flashed on the screen. Louise settled back in one corner of the loveseat chesterfield and lifted her leg up onto the seat cushion. I sat down between her legs and leaned back against her chest as we watched three pretty girls’ limo ride up to an incredible old Hollywood Mansion. Amy took Louise’s lead and had Michelle cozy up to her similarly on the big sofa, when a serenely pretty, young blonde haired woman and sweetly innocent Dahlia Grey, were brought into the foyer and undressed. As an older authoritative and scantily dressed poked and prodded the young women with a string mop-like leather whip, I peeked over at our guests. When the matron slapped each of the two actresses’ pussies and bums with the long suede tentacles, Amy winced but Michelle’s eyes sparkled. Ten minutes or so later of slow motion, beautifully filmed erotica, I thought I saw Michelle slide her hand behind her back, between Amy’s parted legs. After a few seconds, Amy’s eyelids slowly blinked in what I assumed was provoked passion.
We watched additional lavishly costumed women expose themselves, masturbate themselves and initiate new girly games. But when a cute blonde dribbled molten glass jar candle wax down sweet Dahlia’s gorgeous breasts, everyone’s eyes turned to me. Damn that sheer silky under wire bra! I looked down at my shivery nipples and there they were, hugely erect and jutting out my thin ribbed turtleneck sweater like jumbo peanuts! The girls smiled back knowingly, then turned back to the screen, but some evil person beside me sneaked her right hand up under my arm where the others couldn’t see and cupped my right breast.
All our eyes sparkled as we watched a willowy, sort-haired brunette poke and tease the pussy of an anxious, belt-bound and extremely flexible cutie with a riding crop. Toward the end, the same brunette clipped some bobby pin-like nipple clamps, strung together with a necklace chain, onto Dahlia’s erect teats. We watched in wonder as her torturer tugged on the gold chain. But when she pulled the chain taut, high above Dahlia and stretched her swollen dark teats straight out, nasty fingers were equally mean to mine. I felt Louise’s strong little fingers squeeze down on my right teat, then pull it straight out an inch or more! That of course, made my clitoris tingle and my already moist pussy dilate.
Louise knew me well and sneakily traced that middle finger down my right side. She tickled it down across my abdomen and then f***efully hooked the crotch of my stretchy lounging leotards into me up past her first knuckle.
I turned my head to Louise and whispered, “Not yet, not in front of them.”
She whispered back, “You know you want it now, see.” And pushed a second finger in even deeper just as the credits rolled up the TV screen. I pushed her fingers gently away and peeked over at the girls. They both gave me knowing glances as I tried to catch their reactions to the movie. It wasn’t until I got up to retrieve the ejected videocassette that I felt a tampon-like sensation in my pussy. As I smoothed down my bunched up tights and felt their wet crotch pull out of my pussy, I realized what they’d been grinning at.
Michelle wryly observed, “Since you are obviously urgent with need, we think it best to leave you two alone a while. We’re going out for supper and some shopping in Huntingdon and will see you about 9:30. Perhaps you two will be cooled off enough by then to keep your hands to yourselves and set a better example to your guests.”
With no impressionable young minds to mess with, we resigned ourselves to the drudgery of preparing supper. But when “Jimmy Buffet” came down to see what was on the menu, I found a new victim to torment. I gave him a sultry look and a quick penis squeeze, then turned back to flirt with my little French pastry. Master chef Dellissio shoved her Krafty creation into the oven and then helped create a salad with Luscious Louise. I ripped up leaves of lettuce and spinach while she chopped up a green pepper and diced mild onion into the bowl. I sliced raw carrots and celery into the mix, but made a suggestive show of fondling the cucumber. I peeled off its condom-like wrapper daintily with my fingertips, stroked my hand up and down it and then licked the rounded end with the tip of my tongue. I swirled the tip around each of my breasts, then slid it down between my legs and clamped it tightly into my crotch. I closed my eyes seductively and drew it out slowly out from between my thighs, whisked it under Jimmy’s nose and washed it off under the tap.
As I sliced it into the salad, he wisecracked, “So it’s frozen pizza and salad then. If I get out that garlic French stick in the freezer, could you traumatize it for us too?”
Clandestine toe jobs under the table got Louise and I through supper, but no matter what we did after, Doug was underfoot. Our spirits were ultimately deflated shortly after 9:00 when Amy and Michelle returned with shopping bags. They told us they were bushed, informed us they were leaving early the next morning to return to Kaladar and excused themselves.
True to their word, they were up by 6:00 and gone by 6:30 without even a goodbye. After breakfast, I made up their room. On the headboard of the bed, under a burnt down taper and a glass jar candle, I found a note that read: “Thanks for your advice, Laura. Here’s hoping the relationship you complicated will endure with your suggestions. Sorry for the mess we made of the sheet but it seems to flake off easy and I’m sure it’ll all wash out. After seeing that movie, we couldn’t wait a minute longer to see what it felt like. Glad we came, Michelle and Amy.”
I flipped back the covers in curiosity and here, there and everywhere were little pink blotches. In the waist basket were strings and blobs of pink melted candle wax. Between the locations of the bigger wax clusters on the sheet and the lingering scent of pussy up the base of the taper candle, it took little imagination to envision what those two had been up to that night. I shook the loose spots off the sheet, gathered them up and along with the waxy globs from the basket, sprinkled them back into the jar candle. When I finished the room, I took the two candles up to my breakfast nook. I sprinkled out the loose wax clusters on the counter then lit the jar candle. When the flame melted the wax all around its wick, I snuffed out the flame by thrusting the base of the taper into that molten little pink wax pussy. I melted the wastebasket blobs in the microwave, flowed it all around the perpendicular taper then shaped the gelling wax with a spoon to resemble cute little labia lips. With its taper triumphantly protruding from its pink wax pussy, my candle creation found a special place on the curio shelf as my symbolic tribute to lesbian lust.