The
Leather Jacket
Still under the snuggly warm covers, she stretched her lithe thin
body. The dream of her awakening was still in her senses.
She could
still smell the leather of the jacket the man had worn in her dream.
She vaguely remembered that his scent had been vaguely reminiscent
of
lavender. He had turned to look at her just as she awoke.
Her most
vivid remaining memory of her dream was the smell of the leather of
his jacket, and the piercing blue eyes that riveted her as he looked
at her. It seems as though he had touched her, or perhaps she
had
touched him in her dream. She could not remember for sure.
As she rose to her morning bath, she felt the unfamiliar slipperiness
of her womanhood. Touching herself, she discovered copious wetness
within her enticing folds. This was a new experience for her,
her
femininity suddenly craving her own touches. She was mystified
by
her body's new carnal desires.
Secretly curious, she again touched herself. The flow of pleasures
through her groin caused her to catch her breath. She closed her
eyes and again touched the small kernel that seemed suddenly new to
her; she had not previously encountered the tiny center of intense
pleasure that was there.
She looked at the clock, `Damn! I have to hurry if I am going
to
catch the train!' Ignoring her new and intense feelings, she
turned
to take her shower.
Hurrying, she caught the door just before it closed. The train
car
was packed solid. She managed to slip in between two people
and grab
the hanging hand grip just as the train started up again. The
quick
startup movement caused her to sway forward into the person standing
in front of her, her breasts coming into full contact.
The person
was turned away from her, and thankfully did not turn around to see
her acute embarrassment.
 Her
nostrils dilated as she caught a somehow familiar scent. Lavender,
she realized, mixed with sweat and something else . . . . Leather!
Her nights erotic dream was long gone, but the scent, the memory of
the smell, remained in her subconscious. She again felt the
tiny stimulus in her panties, it seemed to be growing and expanding
toward her tummy and her bottom. Her thighs seemed suddenly flushed.
She remembered the tiny buried throbbing sensitive kernel that her
finger had lightly touched earlier that morning.
She shifted her hips, moving her thigh against her womanhood, trying
to quell the unfamiliar feeling that seemed determined to wrest her
focus. Again the train jolted, throwing her once more against
the person in front of her.The scent of lavender mixed with leather
again caused her to inhale deeply.
Her clitoris continued to pulse within her loins. Closing her
eyes,
she could feel her ability to control her own lust slipping
irretrievable away. The self-control, that iron clad control
taught
to her as a young child, the programming that had been carefully
instilled through innuendo and intimidation, rushed to her libido
and
for the first time in her life, she felt sexually needy. It
was such
an unfamiliarly foreign feeling that she did not even recognize the
symptoms.
As she stood there, clinging precariously to the pendulous handle
above, she could not stop thinking about that scent, and the more
she
thought about it, the greater her need for her own resolution
became. As her senses continued to arouse, it became harder
and
harder to keep her hand from trying to "scratch" her "itch."
She
began to fidget.
Her continued attempts at self-control and her overpowering neediness
combined to cause her to begin to move her hips more and more.
Soon
she was gently nudging the person in front of her as well as the
person behind her. She realized that if she did not stand still,
she
would soon draw the two people's unwanted attention. She desperately
tried to freeze her agitated motions, to think about something other
than her intensifying need. Anything but her need. ANYTHING!
The more she tried to think about something else, the more she
thought about the very thing that was driving her nuts. Stark
raving
nuts! `GOD! What is this shit anyway,' she grumped silently.
She
began to hum under her breath in an effort to think of something
else, anything else!
It almost worked.
Then she realized she was thrusting her hips slightly forward and
back, and that on her back thrust, she was gently bumping the person
behind her. She froze, waiting to see if the person behind her
had
noticed. After a bit with no indication from the offended person,
she relaxed. But as she relaxed, and her thoughts freed up from
her
sudden fear, her itch returned with a vengeance.
Glancing down, she tried to determine whether she could perhaps
insert her thumb under the hem of her short dress and gently and
quickly scratch the growing itch that resided stubbornly there inside
her folds. Not really an itch, she admitted to herself.
More like a
need. She decided to risk it.
Acting as nonchalant as she could, she moved her eyes around, trying
to see in her peripheral vision if any one was looking at her hands.
She detected no one looking and slowly moved the thumb of her right
hand under the hem of her dress, then slowly raised it vertically
until it came to rest soothingly against the narrow valley beneath
her soft lacey panties. `Ahhhhhhhhhh, god that feels good!'
she
thought. Holding her thumb there without movement, she breathed
a
silent sigh of relief.
A feminine voice from behind her, softly accented with a musical
Australian lilt, asked "May I help you with that, honey?" Without
waiting for an answer, a hand with long sensuous fingers snaked
around her waist and glided under the hem of her dress. In a
split
second, a finger had gently inserted itself under her own, and was
slowly softly moving up and down on her tiny bud. As the woman
pressed against her, she could detect the distinct scent of
lavender.
After only a few seconds of caressing her intimately, the woman moved
her finger up and into her panties, then down again to caress her
growing urgency. "My my sweet little one, you are very wet,
now
aren't you my little peach blossom?" There was a low chuckle
as a
finger slipped lower and divided her lips in a sweet caressing
movement.
The woman's other hand slid under her arm, then encircled her, and
without further adieu, unbuttoned two of her buttons, exposing her
cleavage and even the lower curve of her breasts. She gasped
as the
lower finger flicked her clittie lightly as she also felt the upper
hand pinched her hardening nipple.
Barely louder, the woman said "Deni. . . . . !" The leather
jacketed
person in front of her turned around, her eyes taking in the site
of
the body being caressed and pleasured by her lover. Deni smiled
seductively, then reached up and unbuttoned the rest of the
increasingly randy woman's buttons. With one hand she fondled
the
ripeness before her, then she leaned forward and kissed the aroused
gasping woman on her erect dark pink nipple.
"What is your name lover?" Deni asked.
"Dottie" was the barely audible reply.
"Well, sweet Dottie, I see you're enjoying my lover's caresses.
Isn't she wonderful? Her name is Penny. I'm Deni.
Can you tell yet
that we like you?"
Dottie nodded her head in needy jerking head movements. All
she
could think of was the hands that were further stimulating her rising
need. "Now just relax as we make love to you honey. If
you pass
out, we will catch you, don't worry."
`Pass out? What is she talking about,' Dottie wondered. Then
suddenly she realized that she was in public, being undressed and
made love to by two beautiful women. But she was too far gone
to
resist now. Her head lolled back on the shoulder of the lavender
scented Australian woman. Deni again leaned forward to kiss
her
naked creamy breasts. As she did, Dottie again inhaled the distinct
scent of leather, the leather jacket that Deni was wearing.
"Deni, put your finger in her and feel this." Deni's hand caressed
its way down Dottie's shivering tummy. One finger disappeared
inside
Dottie's slightly shimmering folds. Deni grinned hugely, winking
at
Penny.
"WOW Penny! We have ourselves a virgin here! My god are
we lucky or
what?" Then looking softly into Dottie's eyes, Deni asked her
"Do
you not have a boy friend sweetheart?"
Dottie, eyes closed as she fought her feelings, shook her head
hesitantly. Then exhaled "We, . . . . . we. broke up a few.
. . .. .
Oh god that feel's soooo good . . . . . . a . . . . a few . . . .
weeks . . . . . ago." Dottie was now moving her hips to encourage
Penny's sensual vaginal caresses.
Dottie was past caring if anyone saw her. Vaguely, in her endorphin
saturated brain, she wondered what had happened to her. She
had
never felt like this in her whole life. She had never done anything
like this before. She had never even dreamed of doing anything
like
this before. She had never realized she COULD feel like this
before.
In a soft and silky voice, Penny coaxed the nearly climaxing woman
supported in her arms. "Relax my sweet beauty, relax, feel my
fingers as they caress you, feel your needs, your soft wetness, your
quivering orgasm. Let it go baby, let us enjoy your explosion
with
you."
Deni pinched Dottie's nipple again, than gave it a sharp jerk.
The
sudden movement took Dottie over the edge of her last vestiges of
civility. Penny raised one hand to muffle her groans and mewlings
as
the overwhelmed woman shook uncontrollably in the full throes of her
first unbridled ecstasy.
The train stopped. The doors opened. Deni and Penny helped
the
dishrag called Dottie to alight. Each on one side of her, they
walked her toward their own nearby apartment. Dottie forgot
all
about work as she was lovingly assisted to their love nest high above
the city. They had the whole day to get to know each other.
|
