The Notebook, Part Two

Dana was stretched out on her stomach on her bed, the fuzzy kitten notebook open in front of her. She tapped her pencil against the blank page, trying to think of something to write. She had finished another chapter of her latest series yesterday and really wasn’t in the mood to for that story right now. She needed something new to keep the creative juices flowing.

It made things easier writing series as apposed to one off stories because she didn’t have go back and describe the characters or tell their backstories every time, but it also made it harder to write a good sex scene. The last thing she wanted to do was write the same scene over and over. So, finding ways to keep people interested in a host of characters having sex with each for the umpteenth time took some finesse.

She just didn’t feel like messing with that right now.

Thinking about the email she had sent last night to her step-mother, she smiled and wrote ‘The Little Black Dress’ at the top of the page. Like those four words were the key to her writer’s block, the story just started pouring out of her:

My step-mother has this little black dress. It is short enough to show off her long legs and low enough in the back to tell me she isn’t wearing a bra underneath. It fits her like a dream, although I’ve never worked up the courage to tell her so…

Dana blinked at what she had written. It was a huge departure in style from what she usually wrote, not least of all the fact it was in first person. She liked to write in third person. Tapping the pencil against her lips, she thought about erasing it, starting over in a style she was more comfortable with. In the end, she decided to see what happened, to let the story go where it wanted to.

She had learned early in her writing career that she couldn’t force a story to go a certain way. They have a mind of their own, as do her characters. They didn’t always do what she wanted them to. She had read a quote somewhere and she thought it was genius and accurate. Smiling, she thought about it now, ‘A story is like a dog without a leash. For the most part it will stay at your side and go where you want to go, but, every now and then, it’ll see a squirrel and lead you who knows where’.

Maybe this story saw a squirrel, she thought, starting to write again:

…A knock at my door drew my attention and my step-mother poked her head. I waved her in and I saw she was wearing the little black dress I loved so much. Her hair was pulled up and she had earrings in her ears. She looked beautiful.

“Leaving for date night,” I asked, wondering if she could see how flustered how she looked made me.

Sighing, she said, “No. Your father had to stay at work. He just called to cancel.”

“Oh,” I said, thinking my father did that too often.

“Are you hungry? I have a reservation at Micky’s. Want to be my date for the night?”

I know she really didn’t mean ‘date’ but it gave me a little shiver of excitement anyway. Maybe I’m a horrible daughter but I’m totally infatuated with my step-mother.

“Um, sure,” I said, trying not to sound so excited.

“It’s at eight,” her step-mother said, smiling as she opened the door, “wear something cute.”

Then she was gone and I was left to fantasize about our ‘date’…

She paused, frowning. This story was hitting pretty close to home. Her father has been working a lot more lately and he has had to stand her step-mother up a few times. Then there was her character’s infatuation with her step-mother. She shook her head, thinking she had that in common with her character, too.

Re-reading what she had written, she wasn’t sure if she’d publish this story. It was a little too personal. Still, she put the pencil back to the paper and started writing, again.

… I walked into the kitchen and my step-mother looked up and smiled. She put down her cup of coffee and stood up, looked me up and down.

She smiled and said, “You look very beautiful.”

I couldn’t stop smiling as I said, “Thanks.”

“I like your hair up like that,” she fussed over me, making me blush.

“Too bad your dad couldn’t see you like this,” she said, then sighed, her frustration clear. Shaking it off, she smiled at me and said, “This dress needs something. I’ve got just the thing. Wait here.”

I waited in the kitchen as she disappeared from the room. I had to fight the urge to fidget, to touch my hair. I wasn’t used to this sort of thing, playing dress up. I mean, I had to Google how to do my hair like this, for God’s sake.

When she came back, she had a string of pearls in her hands. Smiling at me, she said, “These are my mother’s. They’ll look lovely with your dress.”

“Um, okay,” I said, touched she was going to let me wear the pearls. I turned my back to her, let her slip the necklace around my neck and do the clasp in the back. The pearls were cool where they touch my bare skin but my step-mother’s hand was hot as it rested on my shoulder. I shivered…

Dana had to stop for a second to collect herself. The story was getting to her, maybe even more so than the others she’d written. Being turned on was an occupational hazard of writing this kind of erotica, but, this one was different. Arguably, all erotica was fantasy put on paper but this one was a very personal for Dana.

Her hand was shaking a little bit when she started writing again.

…The whole ride to the restaurant, I couldn’t stop touching the pears around my neck. They were so dainty, made me feel pretty.

Ricky’s was a popular restaurant and it wasn’t easy to get reservations. Maybe that was why my step-mother didn’t want to waste them. Either way, I looked around the room at the sharply dressed people, wondered how out of place I must look. These were married couples or people on dates, talking and flirting over expensive glasses of wine. Were they wondering what a thirteen year old girl was doing here?

The hostess showed us to our table, informed us our waiter would be along shortly and left us with menus. I wasn’t used to eating at restaurants with real menus, didn’t know what to expect when I opened the stiff bi-fold. I gaped at the prices and the curious names of the menu items. I didn’t see a burger or pizza anywhere.

My step-mother was smiling at me when I glanced up, amused by the look on my face, no doubt. Blushing, I said, “Maybe you should order for me.”

“Okay,” she said, still smiling…

She had borrowed this scene from her own life, an experience she had when her father took her to a fancy restaurant for her eleventh birthday. She had felt as overwhelmed as her character did, looking at the menu. Writing that experience into the story made her smile; it was one of her favorite memories.

…The waiter came and took our orders, then left. My step-mother turned to me, smiling and asked, “So you go to Carver Junior High.”

I frown, give her a curious look, and say, “Yeah. You know that.”

“Come on. Play along. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date with anyone other than your father.”

I got another shiver at the word ‘date’. Taking a deep breath to relax, I said, “Yeah, I attend Carver Junior High.”

“Is that a nice school,” she asked, sipping her water.

“It’s okay,” I said, trying not to laugh. This was goofy. Still, I could tell she really wanted to play this game so I bit back the giggle.

As we waited for our food, she asked me questions she already knew the answer to and pretended to flirt with me. I knew it was pretend, even if my heart didn’t. It was racing in my chest. The game stopped being goofy and I found myself flirting back.

I wasn’t pretending.

The food was excellent, even if I couldn’t pronounce what the dish was called. We continued to talk as we ate, kept up the playful banter. I was a little surprised how far she wanted to take this game but I wasn’t going to be the one to stop. I was finally telling her the things I always wanted and never dared say out loud. And she was smiling that playful smile at me, the one that was doing horrible things to my self-control.

We paid our bill and she drove us home. On the front porch, she dug her keys out of her purse and turned to me. That playful smile was back on her face as she said, “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“So did I,” I said, honestly.

“We should have another date sometime,” she said, not unlocking the door. She leaned against it, instead, her body language very flirty.

I looked at her, found it hard to swallow. I managed a smile, said, “I’d like that.”

Then she leaned in and kissed me. I was stunned, gasped in surprise as her soft lips touched mine. Then her tongue slipped into my mouth, teased me into kissing her back.

I’m kissing my step-mother, I thought, my head spinning.

Finally, she pulled back and looked at me. I wondered if I looked as dazed as I felt. She gave me a shy smile and asked, “Would it seem forward if I asked you come inside?”

“Come inside,” I asked, my heart racing. I knew what the words meant, had seen this moment in a bunch of romantic comedies but they just didn’t make sense in this situation. Was she being serious or still playing the game?

The kiss had been real, there was no denying that. My lips were still tingling and I could taste my step-mother’s mouth on my tongue…

Dana had to stop, run her hand through her hair. Her body was responding to the story, a heat blossoming between her thighs.

Am I really going to do this, she wondered, looking at what she’d written, am I going to write a sex scene between my step-mother and I?

A knock at her door made her jump and her step mother poked her head in. Blushing, she closed the notebook and waved her in. The woman saw the notebook, started grinning, said, “Writing a new story?”

“Yeah,” Dana said, wondering if she looked as guilty as she felt. Could the woman tell what she had been writing?

“Can I read it when you are done or do I have to wait for it to post on Leslita,” she asked, smiling

“Maybe when it’s finished,” she said, wondering if she would ever dare to let the woman read this story. She doubted it but a little shiver of excitement worked through her at the thought.

“Fair enough,” she said, then remembered what she came here for, “your dad is working late again, so it’s just you and me. Do you want to go get some dinner somewhere? I don’t feel like cooking.”

It wasn’t quite the same but she still got a little thrill by the similarities between this and her story.

“Okay,” she said, nodding.

“Good,” Penny said, turning toward the door, “wear something cute.”

That line made Dana giggle excitedly. It was almost too much.

When her step-mother was gone, she opened her notebook, found where she’d left off. Reading the last couple of lines, again, she decided to go for it. Bad idea or not, she was going to finish the story.

…She took my hand and smiled that smile that made my brain stop working, said, “Come on.”

I didn’t resist, didn’t want to. I let her lead me inside, up the stairs, past the door to my room and into the master bedroom. The door made a soft thunk as it closed behind me and I turned to look at it. My heart was racing and I thought about fleeing.

Turning back around, I gasped as I saw her slip first one shoulder of the dress down her arm, then the other. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as the dress slipped from her breasts, gathered at her hips. Then she hooked her thumbs in and wriggled free of the dress all together. My eyes followed it down, saw it pooled on the floor around her ankles.

I let my gaze travel up her naked body, drank her in. She was more beautiful than I had imagined, her lithe and lean figure perfect.

“Now you,” she said, biting her lip as she looked pointedly at my dress.

My hands were shaking as I worked the zipper under my arm, my fingers not wanting to work right. I finally manage to work it all the way down and the side hangs open. I hesitated, a little insecure. The woman was a goddess, absolutely stunning and I was just a girl. Would she like me?

Sensing my hesitation, she came to me, helped me out of my dress. It fell to my feet, the soft material caressing my ankles. Her fingers left my skin tingling where they accidentally brushed.

Maybe not so accidentally, I thought as she ran her hands down my sides and into the waistband of my panties. I giggled nervously as she sank to her knees and slipped the underwear down my legs and off. I looked down at myself and saw I was naked save for a single string of pearls.

I shivered as her hot eyes roamed over me and my breath caught in my throat when she smiled playfully at me.

“You are so sexy,” she said, her hands lightly caressing my legs, then my thighs.

I couldn’t breath. More than her words, it was the look in her eyes. The desire that burned in them made my knees feel weak. I’ve never had anyone look at me like that and to have the woman I’ve pined for do it…

I lost my train of thought as she let her hand slip inside my thighs and onto my sex. I couldn’t completely rein in the nervous giggle that escaped me and I squirmed under her touch. She looked up at me for permission to continue and I bit my lip and nodded. Her fingers awoke my senses and I moaned. The feel of her touching my young body was making me crazy.

“Do you like this,” she asked.

I couldn’t speak, only nodded. The delicious sensations washing through me made it hard to think. I closed my eyes and put my hands on her shoulders to steady myself. My body seemed to know what it wanted, even if I really didn’t know. My hips were rocking, rubbing my pussy against her hand.

My pussy.

It was a new word for me, added to my vocabulary after over hearing it at school. An adult word for sure. Considering what was happening to me, it seemed more accurate than any of the things I called it as a girl. Well, a younger girl.

The fingers disappeared from between my legs and I opened my eyes to see what was happening. I was a little disappointed they were gone. Then I gasped as my step-mother pushed her face into the junction of my thighs, kissed my tender bud. Her tongue was hot and wet against me and I couldn’t hold in my voice any longer. Little wordless cries escaped my slack mouth.

I felt the first stirrings of an orgasm deep in me, knew I was going to come. Maybe my step-mother sensed it too, because she pushed me right over the edge and into blissful oblivion. My knees almost gave out as my body went crazy

“Come to the bed,” she said, leading me on wobbly legs to the bed. She crawled onto it, stretched out on her back. I stood at the foot of the bed, admired her laying there with her legs spread wide. Summoning my courage, I crawled onto the bed with her, moved between her thighs.

I’d never done this before but I was willing to try and not just because my step-mother had done it to me. I wanted to do this for a while now, be with another girl. Or woman. Anything but my hand in the dark of the night. It felt wonderful, touching myself like that, but I long for the touch of another female.

This was my chance to do all those things I’ve been fantasizing about.

The first taste of her was intoxicating, the sweat on her skin like a drug that made me feel dizzy. Then the musky scent of my step-mother teased my nose and I inhaled deep the woman. Her hips began to roll against my mouth as my tongue teased her bud and her soft moans were all the encouragement I needed.

Her fingers slipped into my hair, around the back of my head, holding me to her writhing body. I smiled, thinking I must be doing something right.

Just as my jaw was beginning to hurt, I sensed a change in her body, saw her hips jerking without grace. My eyes widen as I realized she was going to come. The thought of bringing the woman to an orgasm was exciting and I kept going until I felt her stiffen against my mouth. Her unbridled cry of ecstasy made me smile and felt like doing a victory dance.

I’d made another person come. It might seem a small thing to you but this was my first time and it gave me a huge confidence boost and no small measure of pride.

“Come here,” she said, beckoning me. I crawled up her and she pulled me down atop her. Our lips met and I felt my toes curl as it deepened.

With one more kiss, she smiled at me, “I hate to be like this but you have to go. My husband will be home at any minute.”

I had to laugh, thinking I can’t believe she was still playing the game.

“Call me tomorrow, though,” she said, smiling at me, “I want to see you, again.”

“I will…” I said, thinking I just might ‘call’ her tomorrow. After all, the game must go on…

Finished, she dropped the pencil, ran her hand across her mouth. Looking at the sloppy prose at the end of the story, she had to smile. By then she had been so excited, her hand wouldn’t stop shaking. The story had her a horny mess, as turned on as she’d ever been before.

Reaching behind her, she snagged a pillow, stuffed it between her legs. She ground her body against it as she re-read her story. The flex of her hips  and the feel of the soft material rubbing against her very sensitive bud made her moan and sigh. By the time she made it to the part of the story with her and her step-mother standing on the porch, she was biting her lip to keep her voice down.

Getting to her knees, she picked the notebook up so she could read as she continued to hump her pillow. Her hips were almost a blur, rocking so fast back and forth that she was in danger of starting a friction fire. She couldn’t stop, it felt so good.

As the tension built in the story, so it built in her. It was a little different this time; she thought she was going to come with her step-mother. Her hips jerked and she had to focus on her form, force her hips to keep rocking back and forth. Then her step-mother cried out in the story and she felt her body go crazy with her own orgasm. She dropped the notebook, sank her fingers into the pillow as she shook.

“Jesus,” she husked, brushing her hair out of her face. It stuck to her forehead, now sweaty from her efforts. She shook her head, then crawled off her pillow.

It wasn’t the first time she’d abused the poor thing after finishing a story or reading a good one on Lesbian Lolita but it had never been like that. Her need had been frantic, undeniable. She was still shaking, her orgasm so intense.

Continue To Part Three

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