Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Sunnybunny

Six AM sharp found Heather groggy and irritable despite having retired at an early hour the evening before. She had masturbated herself into a stupor, until she was a sweaty mess mewling on the disheveled bed spread like a bitch in heat. Each new climax becoming more intense than the last, as if the force peeled away a new layer of pent up frustration until she was totally exposed to the pleasure like a raw nerve.

She had begun sitting on the edge of the mattress, pants and underwear drawn down to her knees while she massaged the vibrator into her under-stimulated flesh, thinking the urge more a bothersome nuisance and masturbation simply a means to an end. Scratching an itch, she reasoned once she began. How long had it been since she had taken a lover? How long had it been since she enjoyed it? The questions were distracting, hindering the irritatingly slow-to-build orgasm so she set them aside, trying to focus her mind and coaxed out fresh images of Angie into her imagination without realizing what she was doing. Her mind simply drifted there, as if carried there on a summer breeze, and settled down happily into place on her brain, refusing to budge.

She pictured Angie as she was in the car beside her, wearing the flimsy dress only now she was lifting it up by the ends, daintily with two fingers each, to show off the fact she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. From behind the curtain of fabric, she wore her all too familiar knowing grin that was rapidly becoming her trademark look.

The first orgasm sent her reeling back on the bed, turtling up her limbs and holding herself while she moaned in the throes of beautiful agony.

But the images of Angie refused to abandon her and grew more intense, lewder in nature. Soon, she was stark naked beside Heather as they roared down the freeway, one leg cocked on the dash and both hands spreading her hairless labia apart while she cheekily sang, “How many licks does it take to get to the center of an Angie-pop?”

Heather rolled onto her belly, hiking up her shirt and bra and grasped desperately at her chest. It must have looked a pathetic sight, she recounted. A grown woman, bare ass in the air, thighs apart and massaging the buzzing contraption against her swollen clit, anxious to cum again.

A nice game, she thought as Heather wiggled out of the rest of her clothes. A challenge by Angie to see how mercilessly she could tease while she has to keep both hands on the wheel until she can’t take it any longer and pulls over against the side of the road and attacks the young girl’s body.

Another incredible orgasm dissolved her into a quivering mess but the fire between her legs would not be sated. Worse, the stimulation seemed to be stoking the flames until it threatened to consume her!

She growled in frustration and pressed her forehead into the cool sheets, realizing all at once just how sweaty she had become. Heather used the comforter to wipe at the sodden flesh of her vagina and pressed the vibrator to her clit again, coming almost at once while the fourth and fifth (sixth?) times were longer in length.

By morning, she stank of sweat and sex and decided a shower would be the best option before daring to go near anyone with a keen nose. She couldn’t bear the thought of catching someone’s eye on the first day of her new job and finding a wide smile there, perhaps followed by a knowing wink from some old farm hand. Gag!

She lathered up with the room’s complimentary soap and shampoo and emerged later wrapped in two terrycloth towels smelling of fresh lemons.

“Great,” she intoned to the empty room. “I smell like a dining room floor…”

She dressed rather casually for her first day. Based on Mama Maven’s garb, Heather doubted there was a code of business casual and opted for a pair of dark blue jeans, her best pair of sneakers and a black t-shirt featuring the logo of a band long since broken up from the 1980’s. It felt appropriate, since everything else in the town seemed stuck in the past. When in Rome…

From her toiletry bag, she smeared a bit of gel through her hair after brushing it out and blew it dry. At the last moment, she opted to tuck the shirt in, a last ditch act of formality before spritzing on body mist and heading for the door.

It was still dark outside and the street lights (the ones still working, anyway) cast ghoulish images along the barren road. The wind was stronger than it had been in the afternoon, lashing the road with whips made of coarse sand. A glass bottle clattered noisily through the parking lot before coming to an abrupt rest at the foot of a fresh dune.

It was strangely serene, certainly a dramatic shift from the hustle and bustle of the life she had left behind. Despite the hour, there was no chance some lowlife would leap out of one of the dark corners with a gun, demanding money or something more unpleasant. There were no vagabonds lining the road with cardboard signs decrying their plight. No piles of garbage bags spilling out from the bins. There was a rustic charm to Oasis that just would not be denied.

The diner loomed ahead, light fanning from every window like a lighthouse on the coast, a great beacon in the still night air. Heather stole a glance in the direction of the garage just across the way, barely able to spy the outline of the building in the gloom. No surprise since based on what Angie had shared so far about her father, she would be greatly surprised if he were a morning person.

Mama Maven emerged from the kitchens at the sound of the door chime. “Bless your heart!” She cooed, wiping her wrinkled old hands down the front of her withered apron. “Right on time!” The old woman came forward and took Heather’s hands in hers, beaming in delight. “This way, follow me and I’ll give you a basic idea of what you’ll be doing today! Quickly, now! The first few customers are probably on their way right now!”

The tour did not take long. Even with the hurried nature of the grand excursion, there was little to see. The cooking equipment consisted of massive beasts of metal and rivets, looking more like World War II fighting machines than kitchen appliances. The pots and pans, too, seemed as if they had been plucked free from a time capsule and hung on delicate iron hooks over the massive stove.

“You needn’t worry about too much of this here though!” Maven explained, directing her attention to an open window between the kitchen and dining area. “Orders come in and orders go out.” She slapped her hand against the polished wood. “You just worry about seein’ they get where they need to go. Under the register there,” she pointed through the window into the other room and Heather had to stand on tiptoe in order to see where she was pointing. “Got a spare apron for ya and there yonder is a pen and pad. You set ’em up and I’ll knock it out as the young people like to say!”

Did they really say that? She doubted it but Maven’s enthusiasm was proving infectious and she found herself grinning.

“You got it, chief!” She saluted with two fingers like a good scout.

Mama Maven beamed right back and made a shooing motion with a flick of her wrist. “Go on now, get ready! We got our first customers comin’ in now!”

Her premonition proved eerily true as not a moment later, just as Heather was about to ask how she knew, the sound of car tires crunching along gravel echoed in from the front of the store.

Heather hurried to the counter and snatched up the white apron and tied it around her middle, looping a tight bow just below her navel.

“Show time!” Mama Maven cried out from the back of the house.

The ‘breakfast rush’ turned out to be a handful of ranch hands and landowners, showing up in gigantic-tired pickup trucks and bounding back dozens of cups of coffee and plates of pancakes before heading out to the fields. They were loading up on a few thousand calories before toiling the day away in the Arizona heat. To say Heather’s presence caused a bit of stir would have been an understatement. The crowd of cowboy hats and boots halted in the doorway, mouths agape as she offered to show them a seat in the smoking section. (A bad joke since the entire restaurant was a smoking area, somehow abstaining from more progressive ideas of public health.) Then, as they continued to stare as if she had sprouted a second head, one by one they removed their hats and held them over their hearts.

They took seats quietly, like a pack of freshly scolded school boys, stealing glances over at Heather while she busily took orders and filled coffee mugs. It was eerily quiet, too quiet, she thought. So silent they were that she could hear Maven banging around with pans in the back in preparation and got the distinct feeling that this was a rarity. She saw these men as a rowdier bunch, all loud gas and tasteless jokes about minorities.

At last, one of them spoke up…well sort of. He was middle-aged and sporting a thin, waxy mustache, raising his hand, again like a nervous child, unsure if he really knew the answer to the question on the blackboard. “Excuse me but,” he said, “but… who are you?”

That unleashed an eruption of questions, each louder than the last as they struggled to be heard.

“Are you a friend of Mama’s?”

“What’s your name?”

“Do you live around here?”

“Are you new in town?”

“When did you get to Oasis?”

“Where did you-?”

“What about-?”

Heather backed away dumbstruck, overwhelmed and a little intimidated. These guys were acting as if they hadn’t been in the presence of a woman their entire lives! “Boys, boys, boys!” she shouted until they settled down. “My name is Heather! I’ll be your waitress today! I’m very new in town, no I’m not an old friend of Mama Maven, I’m–!”

She was interrupted by another eruption of questions before she could finish answering the first. It became such a racket that after a time, Mama shuffled out of the back, hands pressed to her hips, asking what all the commotion was.

“You boys ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” Maven scolded, giving each of them a hard stare that they of course averted. “Heather is my newest employee, newest member of our fine community, and you all need to behave! Sakes alive, not a single manner among the bunch of you!” An awkward pause followed, the men shuffling nervously in their seats until Mama Maven gave the room a satisfied nod and shuffled back to the kitchen.

She touched Heather on the arm before departing, “They’re all yours now. Any one of them gets out of line, give ‘em a hard punch in the You-Know-What!” Before Heather could say anything in reply, Mama winked and hurried off.

“You’re going to be the talk of the town for a spell,” Maven later warned her, jovially. They stood out on the back patio of the restaurant, facing away from Oasis and the miles and miles of open field before them and the mountains rising up in the distance. In the early morning light, they were painted a gorgeous violet splash of color. A stark contrast to the light tan dunes at their feet.

After just an hour into her first shift, the rush was over or as Mama explained, the ‘first rush’ was done. They would be due for another in a half hour then a third. After that, it would be dead until lunch.

Maven produced an honest-to-God cigar, half-smoked, and chomped down on it like a cartoon villain. “Would you mind?” she asked, holding out a matchstick. “My hands shake too bad to easily light the damn thing anymore. Thanks, you’re a peach.”

It was during the prolonged silence that followed, Mama Maven puffing away on her cigar and watching the sunrise, that Heather asked something that had been niggling at her all morning.

“Was this a… more of a light morning here?”

“You mean that rush wasn’t what you expected,” Mama grinned and tapped a finger to her hearing aide. “This doesn’t always work but this old noggin’ can be pretty perceptive when it wants to be. Just takes a few cranks to get it started.” She chuckled at her own joke, making Heather grin too. “The God’s honest truth is that I could run the front as well as the back, been doin’ it for years but old Doc Phillips keeps warning me to slow down and like a blessing from on High, you stroll into the house! Do you believe in miracles, Heather? Divine intervention? Don’t matter. God uses us all, in time, whether we realize it or not.”

Heather didn’t bother answering, instead quieting and thinking on what sort of person she was. If there was a God (and to her, that was a pretty big IF) would he really have use for someone that cuts out on an entire life in the middle of the night with a small fortune of money that didn’t technically belong to her? What about one that feels up little girls in the desert? What is God’s plan for THAT woman? she wondered.

Mama Maven continued, “He calls on all of us eventually. The big question is, will you be willing to answer?”

Heather shook her head and changed the subject as quickly as was polite. “So you usually run the whole place yourself, huh? That’s pretty impressive though I imagine it gets pretty lonely.”

Mama nodded, smiling, “That it does, but I suppose that was a bit of a fib on my part. I get help sometimes, here and there.”

“From who?”

“Some of the kids ‘round town come in every now and again and help out where’s needed. I put a few bills in their hands or a free breakfast in their tummy in exchange. You met Angie yet? Little angel. If you haven’t met her yet, you’re going to soon enough. Just the sweetest little thing Oasis has to offer. Outside of my apple pie, of course.”

Heather crossed her legs, the name conjuring up the girls face in her mind. “Yea, we’ve met and you’re definitely right about that. She’s really… something.”

The conversation would have continued but the sound of a new set of tires crunching over gravel signaled the end to their break. Maven motioned toward the door with her cigar, “You head on in and seat whoever that is. I’m going to finish my smoke.”

Heather nodded and stood up, stretching her arms high over her head before heading inside. “Sorry, welcome!” she called, plucking free the pencil she had stashed behind her ear. “What can I get… you…?”

She rounded the corner and froze in her tracks, gawking at the tall figure filling the door frame.

It seemed all the men in town wore a hat and his was a tall, white one with a badge fixed in the middle of the band. A matching badge was fixed on the breast of his jacket, identifying him as the law enforcement of Oasis. One and only, Heather recalled, the one getting hammered with Angie’s father at his garage. He was broad in his shoulders and narrow at the hips, all upper body strength, and even through his collared jacket she could tell his forearms would be impressive. His hair was beginning to gray beneath his hat but the trim beard lining his jaw still bore some color.

He sauntered forward, close enough to her that she could at last read the name on the badge: Rick Glazer, Sheriff. “I heard there was a new city gal in town,” he thundered, the boom of his voice making Heather jump. His expression was unreadable behind his sunglasses. “You must be the one I’m looking for!”

She wanted to collapse into a sobbing wreck. Angie had told, had gone running to Sheriff Rick at the one place she knew he’d be and confessed the whole affair after she refused the kiss. This was her punishment. Mama Maven would call this divine justice. Had they gone to her room first and gone through her things? Did they know who she really was?

Heather backed away instinctively, nearly dropping her pencil and pad as the sheriff’s hands raised up to meet her…only instead of finding a pair of handcuffs hanging there or a loaded firearm, his palm was empty. It was extended in a friendly handshake and his face had cracked into a warm smile. She looked from the offered hand to his grinning face as if the gesture was completely alien to her.

Dumbly, she lifted her hand to his and he snatched it up in a crushing grip. “I heard you were a real beauty but those farm boys don’t nearly do the real thing justice!”

Mama Maven appeared behind Heather, making her jump again. “Sheriff you be nice! Don’t go scaring her. Look! She’s shakin’ like a leaf! Now you let go of her hand and have your seat, I’ll fetch a pot of coffee. Go on, git!”

Maven hustled him away leaving Heather to collect herself and seek refuge in the kitchen. For a long time, she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Her legs wobbled beneath her until she had to lean back against the wall, but the trembling only got worse. Her back was slick with a fresh cold sweat. She slapped both palms against her knees, doubling over as though she would vomit until the worst of it passed.

When she did not emerge again right away, Mama came looking for her, a look of concern etched in her wrinkled eyes. “Darlin’, what’s the matter?”

Motherly instincts took over and she hurried to Heather, cupping the tender flesh around lymph nodes to see if they were swollen. “You look peaked! Just white as a sheet! Do you need to go home for the day?”

Heather waved her off, forcing a smile. “No, no! I’m okay, really I am! Just need to get my second wind is… is all.”

It took some convincing, but Mama agreed to allow her to stay and finish out the shift but, “If I feel a smidge of fever on you later, you’re going to get it!”

She couldn’t keep living like this, Heather reasoned. Always looking over her shoulder, wondering if Angie had tattled on her, about what she had done. No, she needed to address the issue head-on. . . . Unfortunately, that meant collecting the courage to actually talk to the girl. She wondered which she was more afraid of: Angie telling someone their secret or being left alone with the child. Could she trust herself to do what needed to be done and put the matter to rest? Worse, she was no closer to finding out what had become of her stolen money. The various patrons had revealed little about themselves to her, and all had seemed genuinely surprised to find a new face about town. So, who did that leave as suspects?

To her dismay, she had not eliminated a single individual. She was far from meeting the entire town, and if they had indeed fled Oasis with her cash in hand…

Heather sighed beneath the weight of so many variables. Angie seemed like the most manageable task at the moment, but even that was a pretty daunting one. After work, she decided with an affirming nod. After work she would seek the girl out and have a sit down, lay out the ground rules like a responsible adult. She would apologize again for her behavior, try to make amends in some way and hopefully walk away friends. It was better than the shaking ground she found herself on now!

Continue on to Chapter 7