Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Rebecka

{ This story was originally posted at Lesbian Lolita in January 2010 }

It’s always the same. Blue blows into town, screws with me until I don’t know what end I should be putting food into, and then she’s gone again. It’s been like this since we were in school.

Blue is my best friend. She is two days older than me, celebrating her birthday on the 26th of May, where mine is on the 28th. We went to the same schools together, K-12, and then were roommates all through college. She took a job as an airline attendant; I went to work for my dad. I love Blue, and I hate her.

“Hey, Guido. I’m laying over for the weekend. Want to get drunk?”

 

* * *

 

Guido was my nickname with Blue, had been ever since middle school. I have no idea where the name came from. She just called me that one afternoon in bed.

“Guido??” I had protested.

At the time, she’d had my left nipple in her mouth and couldn’t answer. She nodded, however, and bunched my small breast between her fingertips to make the nipple puff up. She loved to suck my nipples in those early days, as I loved to suck hers, and of course we still do. At thirteen, I didn’t have much in the way of boobies, though. (Not that I do now.)

I ran my hands through her thick, black hair, still long back then, pulling it behind her head so that I could enjoy my nipple pleasure visually as well as physically. “Don’t you give me another hickey,” I warned.

“I will if I want to.”

“My mom was furious with me the last time.”

“I’ll put it somewhere she won’t see.” She had once left one on the inside of my thigh, just inches below my crotch. If my mother had seen that…

“Don’t give me one at all,” I said, “and I don’t have to worry about it.”

She proceeded to give me one just below my nipple.

“Blue!” I cried. “I told you not to do that!”

She gave me another one, on my other breast just below the nipple. She was such a devil, then and now.

 

* * *

 

“I can be there at your place in half an hour,” she taunted. “We can do it there or go out somewhere, whichever you like.”

“Cut it out,” I said, cupping my hand around the receiver. Dad was in the other room. I lived with my parents.

“When are you getting an apartment of your own?” she demanded.

“When are you going to stop ragging me about it?” I countered. I’d had an apartment for two years after graduation, had gone through three roommates, and finally gave the apartment up when I got laid off. I hadn’t worked for my dad at the time, though I did again now. I couldn’t afford a place of my own. Not until I got a little something saved up.

“I’m at the Hyatt again. Why don’t you pop over, we’ll have a little fun, and then go clubbing?”

The intent of this idea was, that being too drunk to drive home, I would stay the night with Blue in her hotel room, crashed out on the second bed. The thing was, Blue always insisted on a king-sized bed whenever she was in town. Mom and Dad didn’t know that. Though disapproving of my party-going, they did applaud my restraint in not drinking and driving.

“You know I’m gonna say yes,” I grumped.

“Of course you’re gonna say yes,” she replied airily. “You always say yes. You love me.”

The truth was, I loved Blue enough to marry her if I somehow could.

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” I said and hung up. She asks, and I do anything she wants.

On the way over, I fussed and fumed about the impropriety of being in love with someone who thought nothing of deserting me for months at a time. I wouldn’t get a phone call, a letter, an email — nothing, until she suddenly appeared in town and called me. Infuriating. And yet, the instant she was in my sight I lost all trace of my anger. It just melted away. Especially, if, as I suspected would happen tonight, she pulled me to her, right there in the hotel room doorway and stuck her tongue down my throat. Our last time together we hadn’t even made it to the bed.

At the Hyatt, I parked in a luckily open space right up front, walked into the lobby and pressed the Send button on my cell phone. “I’m here,” I said, when she answered.

“Room 723. Turn right getting off the elevator. I’ll be the one standing in the middle of the hallway in my corset, thigh-highs, and thong panties.”

“I wish,” I said, blushing at the thought. Knowing Blue, that might be exactly where she’d be when I got off the elevator.

Fortunately, it wasn’t. I walked down the long hallway to her door and tapped lightly. She opened the door, and stood there in a white cotton blouse buttoned in one place between her breasts. The arm against the door in a seductive pose drew her shirt tails apart, showing her baby-smooth crotch.

“Blue!” Mortified, I tossed a glance over my shoulder at the door opposite us. Was that a flicker in the peephole, someone looking out? I was twice as mortified when I looked back and discovered that she had undone the one button holding the shirt together and had now exposed her breasts. “Blue!” I squealed again, pushing her into the room.

The instant I was inside and the door closed behind me, Blue flipped the shirt back over her shoulders, grabbed me to her and kissed me. My purse hit the floor, and was followed an instant later by my coat. As always, I was nothing but ravenous for her on first sight. She had my top off over my head and my bra pulled down exposing my left nipple, which she latched onto hungrily.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “You have no idea how much I missed your nipples.” A minute later she had me naked in bed and was giving my tongue a workout it hadn’t seen since she’d last had me in bed.

“You haven’t been with anyone,” she said perceptively.

“No,” I moaned as she attacked my poor neck. I’d go home tomorrow with a hundred, strategically placed hickies that no one besides myself was allowed to see.

I gasped as a long, hungry finger penetrated my wetness. An earthquake-strong shudder ran up and down my spine. I splayed myself, wanting her whole hand inside me. She attempted to cooperate.

“Wanna know something amazing?”

I was breathing very hard now. I had a hard time focusing on her eyes. “What?” I panted.

“I was faithful to you this time.”

I blinked at her. She laughed at my startled, disbelieving expression. She kissed me gently. The hand between my thighs became gentle, rather than demanding. She kissed me again.

“You didn’t think that possible of me, did you?” she whispered.

I didn’t know what to think. Blue was a sexual black hole; she attracted and then sucked in everyone around her. No one escaped her event horizon. She couldn’t be resisted, nor did she want to be resisted. It had haunted me all my life. Another reason I alternately loved and hated her.

Kissing my nose, she whispered. “I’m through with all that. A week after my last layover, I was in a bar in Cancun–”

“Cancun!” I exclaimed. She usually only did domestic flights.

“Yes, Cancun. Can I continue? I was sitting there in that bar, alternately eyeing some gorgeous blond with no boobs–” grinning, she looked down at my own small boobs “–and two or three guys whose cocks I wanted to suck. The next thing I know, I’m thinking about you leaning over me in bed with your long blond hair sweeping across my face.”

She ran her hand through my hair now. “I realized I didn’t want to be with anyone but you.”

Closing her eyes, she lowered her lips to mine and kissed me more lovingly than I’d ever been kissed in my life. When she raised her head some minutes later, it took time for the question she’d asked to penetrate the swirling mists of my thoughts.

“What?” I blurted out. “What did you just say?”

“I asked you to marry me, Guido.”

Dumbfounded, I just lay there with my mouth open and stared at her.

 

* * *

 

Our first time was when we were twelve years old. We had just gotten home from school and, as usual, Blue stayed with me because I hated being alone in the house. The year before, a man who was now in prison for breaking and entering and raping adolescent girls after school had surprised me in my bedroom.

“It’s not like he did anything to you,” Blue pointed out.

I unlocked the door, stepping inside to punch the code into the keypad beside the door jamb. “I wouldn’t call making me undress ‘nothing’, Blue.”

“So you were embarrassed. You get embarrassed every time you undress for gym. Big deal.”

Blushing, I closed the door and set the lock and the deadbolt. Blue didn’t really think nothing of my traumatic afternoon at the hands of my would-be rapist; she merely wanted to keep me from getting my head completely bent around it. She knew how terrified I’d been, and how helpless. Her feigned indifference helped me handle the anxiety.

Upstairs, we dropped our backpacks on the bed and shucked out of our coats. It was two days before Christmas, 1997. Blue’s family was flying out the following afternoon for her grandparent’s place in Minnesota, so this was our last chance to exchange presents. Blue’s gift was sitting on my nightstand: two CD’s of her favorite group. Mine, I assumed, was in her backpack.

Grabbing a brush off my dresser, I pulled my hair out of the ponytail and began to brush it. I hated my hair back in a ponytail. Blue liked it down, also.

“You have such great hair,” she said wistfully, sliding her fingers through the thin strands. Unexpectedly, she took the hairbrush from my hand, slid in behind me on the bed, and began methodically running the bristles straight down the middle of my back. For maybe the millionth time, I suppressed a shiver at the touch of her hands. I was in love with Blue, and the biggest fear of my life was that she would find out. She would laugh at me. Worse, she would stop being my friend.

And then, to my utter astonishment, she leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Becca. There’s something I need to tell you. Please, please, tell me you feel the same way I do.”

My eyes flew open. I stopped breathing and maybe my heart even stopped beating. It certainly felt that way. It felt like the planet had stopped revolving.

I croaked out, “What?”

Blue kissed my neck. I jumped and gasped, twisting my head and half my upper body in order to see her. I know my eyes were big as dinner plates. My mouth was hanging open. I was terrified. In my wildest dreams, I had never imagined beautiful Blue, the prettiest girl in my class, the object of so many boy’s attention, the haunt of my waking hours, could feel anything toward me the way I felt toward her. It was impossible.

Sudden tears filled my eyes and I blurted out, “Stop it! How can you be so cruel? You call yourself my friend?”

I leapt from the bed, stumbled off balance, went down on my fingertips and crossed half the room on all fours before righting myself and dashing into the bathroom and slamming the door. I locked it with shaking hands and then leaned against it with my back, trembling head to foot, my palms against the smooth wooden surface, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Rebecca? God, I am so sorry. I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” I wailed. This was insane. It could not be happening. I was being punished for my presumptiveness.

“How I felt about you. I’ve been hiding it all these years. I’ve been in love with you since the first grade. Since the very first day you sat down with me to have lunch.”

I could remember that day clearly: Blue in a red corduroy jumper and white leggings. The L.L. Bean tag was sticking up in the back. I had folded it in for her, and we had started to talk. I was wearing a button-down white shirt and a plaid skirt and white leggings and new pink and white tennies that Mom had bought me over the weekend. Blue’s footwear were black, patent-leather Mary Jane’s that she hated: she said they pinched her toes. We talked about boys and giggled a lot.

“You’re teasing me,” I moaned.

I could imagine her on the other side of the door, her cell phone out, broadcasting our conversation to an eager, giggling audience wrapped around another cell phone, the speakerphone reciting our every word.

“I am not. For God’s sakes, Rebecca, how can you be my BFF and not know how I feel about you? We’re closer than sisters. Closer than twin sisters.”

That was true. I’d told things to Blue I’d never tell to another living human being, things I’d barely admit to myself. She had gotten me through the horrific first minutes of my first period; if not for her I’d have bled all over myself. We’d slept together a hundred times during sleepovers, whispering and giggling all night, tickling and revealing our darkest secrets . . . all except one, in my case.

She was right. I knew Blue as surely as I knew myself. Though her teasing was merciless and often verged on cruel, she would not lie to me. Certainly not about something like this.

I opened the door. Her face was in tears. Her eyes pleaded for understanding. I saw in them a potential for heartbreak that I’d never have imagined Blue capable of. I sniffed, wiped my eyes with the backs of my hands, and smiled tremblingly.

“You really want me?”

Sighing in relief (and rolling her eyes at the stupidity of my question), Blue leaned through the six inches of open doorway and kissed me on the lips.

 

* * *

 

“Are you out of your mind?” I raised up on my elbows and stared at her in disbelief. “Your father is a Baptist minister. A Southern Baptist minister,” I reminded her, in case she had forgotten.

She giggled softly and nodded her head. “That’s not a fact I’m liable to forget anytime soon, Guido.”

I could not control my thoughts. They swirled like dishwater circling a drain, frothy and full of potatoes chunks and bits of meat. I blinked at her slowly.

“You can’t tell me you don’t want to get married,” she said. “I know you do.”

“Yes, but –” I protested.

She leaned forward and kissed me. “Our own house in the Hampshire’s, Tweedledee and Tweedledum making our lives miserable.” (Tweedledee and Tweedledum were our two imaginary children, one hers, one mine, supposedly fathered by the same hottie we’d pick up in a bar somewhere and have a threesome with.) “A mortgage payment to be late on, Direct TV to bitch about when it looses the signal, you in an apron and nothing else when I come home.”

Blue grinned cattily and winked. I had met her at the door before one time in only an apron. “The point is, we can have it for real, Guid.”

“Yeah,” I said caustically, “with me sitting home at night for weeks on end.”

This had been a major issue since graduation, her and her airline job. Her and her flightiness, though if she’d been celibate since our last reunion, maybe that part of her life was in check. So I could hope. I’d been with no one else in two years.

“I’ve been working on that,” she said, smiling slyly. “A job opened up in the Boston office. I applied, and it looks promising. I won’t know for a week, but I’m pretty sure I got it.”

She bit her lower lip, unsure for the first time. “I thought if maybe…” Her uncertainly deepened. “You do want to marry me, right?”

I leaned forward and kissed her. “Of course I want to marry you, silly.” I’d wanted to marry her since 6th grade. “I just can’t believe you want to marry me.”

She kissed me some more, and then slid down my stomach to snack between my legs. I have always loved being eaten by Blue. I dislike having my legs spread for anyone else’s pleasure, but was always grateful when, with a twinkle in her eyes, and a grin on her lips, Blue let me know that soon a tongue would be exploring my insides or tickling my clitoris. I love having my clitoris tickled, though it often makes me so frantic as to send me into uncontrollable writhing. I had a heart attack the first time I understood what it was she intended to do.

 

* * *

 

“No!” I had yelped, forcing my knees together in a panic. “You are not doing that to me!”

It was a month or so after we’d first admitted (in Blue’s case, declared) our desire for each other. We were naked in bed, enjoying our after school alone time. I had just been given another embarrassing hickey on my tiny left boob.

“What?” she asked innocently. She hovered over me on her elbows and knees, restrained by my hands and by my raised thighs from any farther southward retreat. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip suggestively. Red as a fire truck already, my face became even hotter.

“I’m not ready for that!” I protested.

“Not ready for what?” she taunted, grin widening, eyes crinkling in the corners. My breath jammed in my throat. It was hard to think, much less force words past my paralyzed lips. My tongue felt as thick and useless as a balled up pair of socks.

When I didn’t answer, Blue eased herself farther down my body. Although my hands let go, I didn’t relax. Every nerve ending in my body jangled. Slowly, she pushed my legs down flat against the bed, and then slowly maneuvered them open.

“Blue…”

My hands, unsure what to do with themselves, floated twitchingly above my chest. I had spasms in the muscles of my thighs; they wanted to slam together protectively. Although neither of us were strangers to the other’s fingers, I had dreaded the moment when Blue would bring oral into our lives. This, despite nights lying awake fantasizing about our first sixty-nine together, a moment clearly on the horizon.

Grinning impishly, keeping her eyes on mine the entire time, Blue lowered her head and licked me gently, tentatively with her tongue. An earthquake nearly shook apart my body. Gasping, I felt very muscle in my body clench.

Encouraged, she used her tongue again, this time with more determination, extending and letting it flatten against my lips, parting them slightly with its pressure, dragging over the nub of my suddenly aching clitoris, probing it, teasing it rudely.

“Blue!” I gasped again. My pelvis twisted involuntarily, trying to scissor her out with my thighs, unsuccessfully. She had her fingertips on me now, spreading apart my lips.

“Do you like that, Becca?” she asked, licking me a third time.

I thought I would die when she put her lips into my wetness and kissed me. She went to work with single-minded thoroughness then, no longer making eye contact but absolutely intent on pleasuring both herself and me, using her lips and tongue in ways I had never even imagined. In the midst of my writhing and moaning and useless protestations, I realized she was doing something horrific to the inside of my left thigh.

“Blue, no!” I cried.

Aghast, I pushed up onto my elbows to find her giggling delightedly, eyes inspecting the darkening purple bruise she had just applied with her mouth. I was dumbfounded. What if my mother saw? It was right at my panty-line and couldn’t be missed.

“You bitch!” I howled. “How could you do that to me?”

This only made her giggle harder. Her giggling intensified as I attempted to kick her in the head with the heels of both feet. Bigger and stronger than me, however, outweighing me by twenty pounds, Blue subdued me with little effort. She was red-faced with laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“It’s only a hickey,” she choked out, laughing.

Pinioned obscenely as I was, I could do nothing but bare my teeth and glare at her.

Laughing, she kissed me apologetically on my wetness and said, “It’s directly in the middle of your thigh. It’ll be blocked by your other thigh. No one’s going to see it. It’s not like you walk around in your panties anyway,” she added teasingly.

“Sometimes, I do,” I countered obstinately.

It was only me and Mom and Dad. I had no brothers or sisters to hide from, and lately, Dad had been away more than he was at home. At night, and in the morning before school, I often wandered around the upstairs in just my bra and panties. I’d have to wear a robe now, or my nightshirt or something. Mom would go ballistic if she saw. Dad would blister my bare behind.

“Don’t you dare give me another one,” I threatened.

She laughed and kissed the hickey lovingly. Despite my anger, I had to admit it aroused me being branded. I had never had a hickey before, and being given one so close to my wetness was incredibly erotic. For the next few days, thinking about it would make me shiver uncontrollably.

Blue spent ten minutes between my legs, pleasuring me languidly, and then crawled up my body with a big, teasing grin on her face. I knew she intended to have me taste myself, and, though it grossed me out a bit, the thought of it also sent shivers down my spine and made me erupt all over with goose flesh.

Breathless, and involuntarily squirming away from her as she came closer, I nonetheless allowed her to put her lips on mine and kiss me.

“Mmmmm,” Blue moaned.

“Mmmmm,” I moaned back. The taste was as musky as I’d heard it would be.

“I can’t wait to sixty-nine with you,” she whispered throatily. Were she a cat, she’d have been purring. She kissed me again and stuck her tongue in my mouth. I sucked it greedily. “Your turn,” she prodded.

Our first sixty-nine was every bit as erotic and joyous as I’d imagined. Blue’s taste was identical to mine, although infinitely more potent coming from its place of origin.

I cautiously explored her with my tongue, sucked her clitoris, buried my face in her sweet wetness, and invaded her insides gleefully. Unlike myself, she was baby-smooth and baby-clean. She told me later that she had begun to shave herself daily in anticipation of us performing sixty-nine together, or of having me “chow down” on her, as she sluttily enjoyed calling it. With my wispy blond hair, I hadn’t thought about doing that to myself. Blue, to her utter delight, was the first ever to shave me.

 

* * *

 

Back in the present, Blue raised her head and obscenely licked her lips. “You are the best dinner I’ve had in three months, Guid.” She winked at me, only adding to my embarrassment.

I had forgotten just how wonderful it was, having that tongue inside me. I watched my chest heave and fall, my nipples hard as granite pebbles. Uncontrollable orgasm stalked the bed like a circling animal. I could almost see its glowing yellow eyes and serrated teeth. Was that panting I heard from the animal, or was it myself?

Blue kissed me, right in the middle of my wetness. “Marry me, Guido,” she said.

I fought to control my breathing. “Only if you get down on your knee and propose to me.” It was the only thing my frantic mind could push past my teeth.

“Easily arranged.”

Rising up and taking me by the hand, she backed off the bed and drew me off with her. Instead of assuming the traditional positions, however, Blue urged me to my knees and took to her own knees before me. She held my hands in each of hers. To my astonishment, there was a black, velvet-covered box in her right hand. Where it had come from, I couldn’t guess.

“Rebecca Windom?”

“Yes?” I said fearfully. I could feel the rush of heat right up to my hair roots. This wasn’t really happening.

“Will you marry me and be my wife?” she asked.

I gulped, or tried to. The sound was like a cracking two-by-four. There was nothing in my head but thickly-stuffed cotton. Breathing through my mouth, I was close to hyperventilating.

“Are you serious?” I croaked.

She nodded solemnly.

“My mother will have a cow. So will my dad. So will yours.”

“My father’s been having cows all his life,” she said, smiling wryly. “He’s used to it.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “But — a daughter-in-law? To his daughter?”

Her grin was no less wry. “I think he’s suspected for some time. More likely he’s wondering why it took so long for me to ask.”

“Blue,” I complained. “Be serious.”

She squeezed our two hands around the black jeweler’s box. “How much more serious can I be?”

I stared numbly at the box. “You really bought me a ring?”

“Would you like to see it? Or will that send you right over the edge?”

I gulped again, loudly. I nodded.

Releasing my hands, Blue positioned the box between us, the fingers of her left hand holding the base, those of her right hand delicately gripping the lid, and, as I watched breathlessly, she levered it open to reveal a huge diamond in a beautiful white gold setting. Tears instantly overran my eyes and poured down my cheeks.

“Oh, Blue!” I gasped, blinking madly to clear my vision. “It’s so beautiful!”

I reached out with trembling fingers and placed them atop hers. We held the box together. The stone glittered softly in the dim light. I couldn’t stop sobbing.

Holding out my left hand with the fingers spread apart, I watched as she removed the ring from the velvet bed and placed it upon my finger. I shuddered as it slid on.

“Will you marry me, Rebecca?” she asked again.

I threw my arms around her neck and bawled like a newborn baby.

 

* * *

 

That was three years ago. We now live in a little town in northwest Massachusetts. Blue kept her job with the airline only as long as it took us to arrange the marriage, find a place to live outside Boston, find employment for me as an accountant with a solar energy company, and settle in to a semi-regular routine. Then she resigned, and with Blue hauling in twice my salary as a cost consultant to the airline, we spent the next two and a half years putting together the down payment on a bed and breakfast. We moved here four months ago, and I am currently two months pregnant.

“The Hampshire’s have it way over Philadelphia,” I said wistfully.

I sat next to Blue on the front porch of our bed and breakfast, enjoying the warm spring evening. Kicking us gently back and forth on the glider with her right foot, Blue held my hand in her lap.

“You happy with your birthday present?” she wanted to know.

I squeezed her hand. My birthday present was an airline ticket to Hawaii and reservations at the Hyatt Regency Maui. We’d fly out tomorrow morning and spend a full week on the beach. The previous owners had graciously agreed to come out of retirement for a week and run the place. Birthdays couldn’t get any better. Every time I thought of it, I cried.

“Of course I’m happy with my birthday present,” I sighed. “Look who it came from.”

To our left, to the west, the final sliver of sun slowly sank below the roofline of the bank building on the corner, continuing to light the windows in the upper stories of the buildings to the east of us with its swollen redness. It would be dark in a matter of minutes; already, I could see Venus twinkling in the twilight. Absently, I rubbed my slightly swollen tummy through the fabric of my windbreaker.

I like being the wife. It suits me, being the wife, being pregnant. Blue is the perfect husband. It left me slightly guilt-ridden that she chose to deprive herself of the experience of motherhood, to raise our children in a semi-conventional household, with a mother and a father-figure, but that’s what Blue wants and as long as she is okay with “fathering” our children and letting me carry and gave birth to the little monsters, then I can live with that. She even did a fairly good job of poking me with her strap-on and driving me crazy the night of our “conception.”

I hope for a girl. Blue wants a boy. I think she means to tease him about his penis when he gets older. We choose not to discuss it until such time as a sonogram reveals the sex. My secret desire is to have one of each. Twins run in the family. Did I forget to mention my due date is Christmas Day? Merry Christmas.

 THE END