“My God, babe!” said Connor as they lay in each other’s arms. “That was incredible. Whatever it takes for you to keep those distractions out of your mind, whatever I can do to help you do that, you just tell me.”
“Oh, darling,” she said, “I think I have crossed a line in the sand. I feel confident that I will never return to the place I was in before. I have gotten an idea of what’s important and I’m not going to lose sight of my priorities ever again. Best I can help it.”
‘Oh, babe, you’re the best,” said Connor, before falling asleep in Marcia’s arms, a very contented man.
Chapter 3
Marcia went to church the next day with a spring in her step. It was her turn to look after the crèche, so after seeing the boys safely settled into junior church, she left Connor with a peck on the cheek at the entrance to the main building and made her way to the outbuilding where the crèche was situated. When she got there, she met Pamela, who was in charge of the crèche, which surprised her, as according to the schedule she was supposed to be working with Dana that day.
Pamela explained that Dana had been taken ill overnight but her daughter Alyssa had agreed to step in for her. She was waiting for her now. She was only a few minutes away according to the message she sent before she set out from home. Marcia knew Dana had a daughter but had never heard her talk about her. According to church gossip, she was the black sheep of the family, and had gone through a Goth stage, when she would wear nothing but black and wore studs in virtually every part of her body – or so the story went.
While they waited for her, Pamela chatted with the parents who were dropping off their kids while Marcia kept order as best she could as the room began to fill with little souls. It seemed to Marcia that everyone from the neighborhood (let alone the church) had brought their little ones to church on that particular Sunday morning.
After a few minutes, a new mom arrived, but seemingly without her child. Marcia reckoned she must be waiting for her husband with child in tow, as she waited in the doorway. It was when she noticed that Pamela was no longer there that Marcia realized this must be Alyssa. If she had once been a rebellious teenager, then how much she had changed! She was of medium height, with ash blonde hair done in a ponytail and when she turned to look at Marcia the effect on her was electric. The same spine-tingling sensation she had felt yesterday when Vesna had spoken to her was repeated, only with even greater intensity. The luminescence of the young woman’s smile (she can’t have been older than 21, 22, Marcia thought) lit up the whole room; but to Marcia it was as if it was meant only for her.
“What is happening to me?” Marcia thought. “I am a married woman with two children. I have no interest in other women. Not in that way, anyway.”
“Mrs Regan? Are you okay?” Alyssa’s voice interrupted Marcia’s musings. “Are you okay?”
“Oh my God!” thought the older woman. “Up close she’s even hotter!”
“You must be Alyssa,” said Marcia, regaining a measure of control over herself. “Very nice to meet you.”
Marcia extended a hand, when part of her wanted to hug the girl, and yet another part to kiss her on her full lips.
“Nice to meet you too, Mrs Regan,” said Alyssa, with that smile that lit up the room which Marcia found so distracting. “My mother has told me so much about you.”
“Please, you make me feel so old with this Mrs Regan business. Just call me Marcia.”
“It’s a beautiful name,” said Alyssa, looking a now slightly trembling Marcia in the eye. “It suits you perfectly.”
Marcia wanted to excuse herself and visit the washroom. Anything to get away from this girl who all unknown to her was tormenting her so badly. Or did she really not know the effect she was having on her? Of course not, Marcia concluded. It’s as if I’m seeing lesbians everywhere. Maybe I need to see a counsellor or a psychologist. Maybe they can explain what’s happening to me?
Marcia broke off her conversation with Alyssa abruptly, knowing the girl would feel her very rude but thinking it the best way to ensure that she didn’t get the wrong idea about her. The result was the opposite to that which Marcia intended, as Alyssa recognised at once the internal conflict raging in the older woman’s heart. It was something she had encountered many times before; something which thrilled her and aroused her in equal measure.
She was now in her senior room year at college, so typically it had been freshmen or sophomores who struggled before giving way to the inevitable. She was proud that no one had yet managed to resist her seductive charms, not even the tutor on her psychology course. She had even had to turn down the approaches of her Anthropology professor, but that was because it would have been too complicated. She was married (to another woman) and she had to grade her thesis. In the end, Prof Dabrowski had been cool about things, even grateful, Alyssa thought, for the levelheadedness her student had shown.
But this woman, this lovely package that had come to her gift-wrapped, this woman who was patently looking for someone to untie her bow and remove her wrapping before enjoying what she had to offer, was different. Looking at her as she busied herself with the little ones, studiously avoiding her glance, she smiled inwardly. She remembered her first conquest, made when she was still at high school. Her name was Yvette and she had been a lot like Marcia: deeply sexual yet at the same time in deep denial of her sexuality.
She was the babysitter for Yvette and her husband Jack. It had been Jack who made a play for the girl charged with looking after their three-year-old but Alyssa has no interest in Jack. All her interest was centered on his prim and proper wife. Prim and proper she may have been, but nothing she wore (however loose or baggy) could conceal those big, big titties. And they were titties that the schoolgirl was determined to feast on.
Alyssa had had to bide her time until finally one night, Yvette came home alone from a party in the neighbouring county. Jack had passed out on the floor and Alyssa had spoken to the hosts and they had said they’d look after him and send him home in a taxi the next day.
As soon as Alyssa saw that Yvette had come home alone she knew she had the opportunity she’d been waiting for. Everything slipped into place beautifully. Yvette had drunk a few glasses of wine so she had loosened up but wasn’t drunk, and better still she was angry with her husband because he had spent the evening flirting with another, younger woman.
Alyssa manoeuvred the two of them into Yvette’s bedroom and when they were sitting on the bed she stretched out her arms as an invitation to the older woman to hug her. Yvette didn’t need a second invitation, and as they hugged Alyssa marvelled at the feeling of those huge boobs mashing against her girlish breasts. Yvette clearly felt something too, as she suddenly became agitated and said she’d better check on her little one.
Sensing the time was ripe, Alyssa told her she’d checked only five minutes before and, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, let her hand find a place on her neck. When Yvette became rigid, she knew it was the rigidity of desire and accordingly moved in very slowly to kiss her, giving the married woman the chance to pull out at any time. It was a chance she had no wish to take.
When their lips touched, Yvette seemed to lose all her inhibitions, as months of repressed desire sought release. From being the initiator and leader, Alyssa became the follower as a complete transformation came over the housewife. She stripped Alyssa of all her clothes in a matter of seconds, and without any more preliminaries dove into her cunt, licking her juices ravenously and bringing her to an orgasm in a matter of seconds.
After that, the lovemaking became more measured, as Alyssa finally received the opportunity to suckle on those mammoth titties. Yvette kept telling her that her husband didn’t treat her like she did, and Alyssa just had to keep telling the older woman how beautiful she was. It was so easy and yet so rewarding. When she finally got to eat her pussy, she was greeted by the sight of dark brown folds (flaps almost) which craved attention.
“Oh, fuck!” breathed Yvette. “Jack never does that to me.”
After she had brought Yvette to a series of orgasms (a process which was, if she was honest with herself, as easy as shelling peas), Alyssa listened as the buxom brunette asked her if she had fucked Jack.
“He likes ’em young,” she added with anger. “That bimbo he was sniffing about tonight can hardly have been legal.”
Alyssa thought a little white lie was in order and told Yvette that her husband had always been a perfect gentleman with her. She was going to add that she didn’t like men, but thought Yvette would interpret that as meaning that her douche of a husband had tried his luck with her but failed.
After that first night, Alyssa and Yvette had made love regularly (sometimes in motel rooms) until Alyssa went away to college. When she returned at the end of her freshman year, she learned from her mother that Yvette and her family had moved to Arizona, where Jack had received a job offer from a defense contractor.
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