Sinful Deceit (2 page)

"I wouldn't
want to go with David." Did I sound heartless?

"He's a nice
young man. Why not take him?"

"Because he's
nice."

She stopped
fluttering and frowned at me. "What do you mean, Kirsty?"

"Nothing," I
sighed.

"Take Sharon,
then. I know she'd jump at the chance."

"Maybe."

Mother's
always right. Sharon jumped at the chance. I felt pleased. We'd
sunbathe, enjoy a drink in the evenings. I doubted that my uncle
was into the nightlife, and I felt somewhat easier about the
holiday knowing that Sharon was coming with me. She'd be company,
someone of my own age. We'd drink and laugh and dance all night.
Would we share a bed? Memories of Halloween night flooded my mind.
My juices of love flowed.

Sharon came to
my house within minutes of my phoning her. Her blonde hair bounced
in a bob. She couldn't stop beaming as she followed me upstairs to
my bedroom. Anticipation reflected in her blue eyes, she spun round
and gazed at me. A short red skirt and white T-shirt veiled her
curvaceous body. Her nipples were pressing through the tight
material of her T-shirt. I don't know why I noticed. More memories
rose from the depths of my mind.

She leapt onto
the bed and began chattering about Greece. I glimpsed her red
panties nestling between her shapely thighs as she moved about
excitedly on the quilt. Red, alluring. The quilt was pink, it
clashed with the red material veiling her secret place. Her panties
bulged seductively over the swell of her sex lips. My stomach
somersaulted. Did she still masturbate? Did she have a candle
friend? I sat on the end of the bed and gazed at her pretty face,
her fill red lips. I wanted to ask her whether she massaged her
clitoris to orgasm, but daren't.

Her words
floated about me, drifting around the room and settling on the
carpet like dead petals. Her red lips moved in her talking, her
tongue peeped, but I wasn't listening. In her innocence, she sat
cross-legged. Was she making daisy chains in her mind? I again
focused on her panties, the tight material running between the
smoothness of her naked thighs. The groove of her sex crack was
visible through the thin cotton of her panties. The material hugged
her lovingly. Was I jealous of her hugging panties? What was hiding
from me inside my head?

"And we'll go
to all night discos," she trilled, her hands waving above her head
as if she were dancing. The bed rocked as it rocked when I
masturbated. Her skirt rode further up her naked thighs. I couldn't
drag my eyes away from the enticing swell of her red panties. My
musing was uncharacteristic. "We'll spend our days on the beach and
then go to the tavernas and the discos," she continued
enthusiastically. Several curls of her blonde pubes sprouted either
side of her tight panties as if trying to escape. What was I
thinking in my pondering? And why?

Was Sharon
innocent? I wondered as she brought her slender legs up and rested
her chin on her knees. Her panties bulged between the firm pale
flesh of her thighs. Bulging, swelling, straining to conceal the
plump cushions of her lips of love. My stomach somersaulted again
as she raised her head and her thighs fell apart. My juices oozed
in their seeping. My bud of self-loving grew in its arousal. In her
moving and chattering, she reclined on the bed and lay her head on
the pillow. Her legs were long, her skirt short, revealing the
convex triangle of red material veiling her girl-sex. My candle
friend lay beneath my pillow. Silky-smooth, slightly curved,
sensual. My candle lover lurked only inches beneath her head. He
beckoned me in my arousal.

Gazing at the
tight material running between Sharon's thighs, my eyes widened. In
her incessant chattering about Greece, she'd allowed her legs to
part further. I focused on the indents at the tops of her thighs.
The material of her panties was narrow, unable to cloak the swell
of her outer labia. My juices trickled, my clitoris stirred. An
overwhelming desire to caress her gripped me. In the depths of my
confusion, I wanted to be naughty.

"How much
spending money will you take?" she asked.

I dragged my
eyes away from her intimacy and smiled at her. "I don't know," I
replied. "I suppose I'll have to offer my uncle something for
having us."

"I reckon he's
rich," she giggled. "Sending you a plane ticket... He's got money,
all right."

"Are you still
seeing Kevin?" I asked. I imagined the solid shaft of his penis
driving between the soft lips of her vulva. "Or is it off
again?"

"It's off,"
she sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. She
pulled her skirt down, shrouding her red panties. "You know what
he's like."

"Boring?" I
proffered.

"Very. Did I
tell you about the time we went to his brother's party?"

"No, you
didn't," I smiled, slipping off the end of the bed and walking to
my dressing table. My panties were damp. "I'm going to change," I
breathed. "It's hot this evening."

"It's the
weather," she grinned as I unbuttoned my dress. "Anyway, we went to
his brother's party and he made a right fool of himself. He was
messing around and..."

Standing
before my dressing table, I unbuttoned the front of my dress. I
didn't understand my thinking, why thoughts of Sharon's naked body
wouldn't leave my mind. I wasn't in control of my senses, I knew as
I opened the front of my dress and gazed at my reflection in the
mirror. The mounds of my firm breasts swelled beneath my bra. What
was I doing, and why? My womb quivered as I imagined Sharon's
sensual mouth engulfing the brown protrusions of my nipples. I
desperately craved her intimate attention. Perhaps I wanted to
satisfy a fantasy.

Sharon chatted
about Kevin, glancing at me now and then as I pulled my dress over
my head. The crotch of my blue panties was soaked. I could feel my
vaginal juices flowing, oozing. I wanted Sharon to see my panties,
the stain of my juices of arousal. In her rambling about the party,
she didn't notice. I wanted to pull my knickers down. I wanted to
pull her knickers down. Within my heart dwelled the bud of a
mysterious flower. With the passing of time, the bud had opened,
the flower was beginning to bloom. I was flowering.

I moved about
the room, doing this, doing that. My breasts strained at the silk
cups of my bra. They sought freedom. My cleavage was deep and
alluring. My panties bulged below the slight swell of my stomach.
Explore all avenues, my mother always said. I wanted to explore
Sharon's avenue. I'd once been so close to her vagina, her
sensitive clitoris. My heart raced at the thought. Anticipation
swamped me.

Confused in my
thinking, I bit my lip. I wasn't a lesbian, and yet... Perhaps I
was thirsty for experience. My sex dampened as thoughts swirled
within the sexual haze of my mind. My nipples rose.

"What do you
think?" Sharon asked, breaking the delicate web of my fantasy.

"I'm sorry?" I
smiled.

"Do you think
your uncle has a swimming pool?"

"Oh, more than
likely."

Turning, I
faced the dressing table and discreetly pulled my panties aside.
The mirror reflected the pouting of my outer lip, the elastic of my
panties nestling within my moist vaginal crevice. Adrenalin coursed
through my veins. My heart banged hard against my chest. A
passionate desire ascended from the quivering depths of my womb. I
was ready for the unveiling.

"Most villas
have swimming pools," I said, turning to face her.

"I hope so,"
she beamed. "I love the sea, but prefer a swimming pool." Her blue
eyes fell to my lower stomach. Lower, lower to the deliciously
plump lip of my vagina. "The weather..." she began, bewilderment
swamping her thoughts. The gaze of her diamond-sparkling eyes
burned into my girl flesh. "I suppose the weather's always
good."

"It's bound to
be hot," I smiled. Hot and wet. "It's June, so we needn't
worry."

I turned and
looked out of the window. There were movements behind me. Clothing
rustled. I imagined Sharon's hand on my lower back, following the
curve of my hips. Fingers moving slowly over the smooth plateau of
my stomach. Down, further down to my intimacy. Beneath the elastic
of my panties and over the rise of my fleeced mons. My crack opened
in its expectation of caressing girl fingers. Turning, I gazed at
Sharon as she stood by the door. Was she leaving me? She had to
touch me, caress my girl sex. My fantasy worried me.

"I'm going to
the loo," she said, and was gone. In my ponderings, I'd often
thought about other girls' sex cracks. While I'd masturbated, I'd
often imagined another girl caressing between the swollen lips of
my vagina, her slender fingers seeking entrance to my wet sheath of
sexual love. I'd imagined my fingertip to be another girl's, slowly
encircling the sensitive nub of my erect clitoris. Massaging,
tantalising, teasing ripples of pleasure from my passion spot.
Never had I thought I'd yearn to bring my secret ponderings out
into the light of day. I preferred the dark of the night.

Sharon had
been gone for a while, and I began to wonder what she was doing.
Was she remembering Halloween night? My passion was soaring out of
control. The glimpse of the fleshy vulval lips I'd caressed long
ago flooded my mind with memories. I was older now. But was I
bolder? I sat on the end of the bed and reclined, the elastic of my
panties still between my wet sex lips. My arms outstretched behind
my head, I needed Sharon. Where was she? My thighs parted, I was
ready for the sensual touch of her fingers.

"Kirsty," she
murmured hesitantly as she ambled into the room and closed the
door.

"I was just
thinking about a sandy beach beneath the Greek sun," I smiled,
closing my eyes. She walked across the carpet. I could feel her
gaze upon the exposed lip of my vagina. "You'll have to get your
ticket as soon as you can," I murmured.

"Yes, I know,"
she whispered. She sat on the end of the bed, close to my hip.
Close to my bared intimacy. "Kirsty, I..."

What was
roaming the recesses of her mind? Was she recalling that fateful
Halloween? The bed moved, she was making herself comfortable.
Through my eyelashes, I spied her pretty face, her sensual mouth.
She was looking at my panties, my bulging outer lip. Her pink
tongue peeped between the wet gloss of her succulent lips. I craved
her feminine touch, longed for her intimate caress. Through the
heady reeling of my sexual fever, the room closed in on me.
Oblivious to the outside world, I was sinking within myself. My
clitoris pulsated in its desiring.

"Kirsty," she
murmured again. She wasn't asking for a reply. She was whispering
my name in her spoken thoughts. I could feel my stomach rising and
falling with my quickening breathing. My juices flowed, absorbed by
my panties. "Kirsty," she breathed. I let out an involuntary gasp
as the soft touch of her fingertip traced the silky-smooth skin my
inner thigh. She moved up towards my sex, teasing, caressing,
tantalising. Holding my breath as her fingertip drew a line up to
my exposed outer lip, I waited in desperation for her feminine
touch.

My thighs
parted spontaneously, as if offering my sexual centre for the
taking. The pearl of my clitoris swelled, my juices of love flowed
in torrents. As her fingertip caressed the sensitive cushion of my
vaginal lip, my breath rushed out in its desperate rushing. My
stomach quivered, my back arched. Whimpers of pleasure left my lips
and floated around the room as her finger worked its way into my
wetting valley of desire. Pulling my panties aside, she ran the tip
of her slender finger up and down the drenched ravine of my girl
sex.

"Yes," I
gasped with an outrush of breath as her finger delved between the
petals of my inner lips. Seeking, exploring, she encircled the pink
flesh surrounding the juiced entrance to my hot vaginal sheath.
"Yes!" I gasped again as she entered me, penetrated my tightening
vagina. I could feel her inside me, working, massaging. My clitoris
swelled, pulsated in its arousal. My breathing was fast and
shallow, my head thrown back in my sexual delirium.

I felt her wet
lips kiss my lower stomach. Her hot breath on my veiled mons, her
blonde hair tickling my inner thighs, her tongue ran over the
sensitive rise of my outer lip. Digging my fingernails into the
quilt, my body rigid with desire as she pulled my panties down my
thighs, I wailed in my satisfaction as her tongue slipped into the
moist divide just below the fusion of my labia. Her breath hotter
as she pulled my panties down further, her tongue eagerly sought my
ripening clitoris.

"Sharon," I
whispered as the wetness of her tongue snaked over the sensitive
tip of my pleasure pearl. "God, Sharon." She began licking
fervently, swelling my clitoris with every sweep of her pink
tongue. She placed her hand on the smooth skin of my stomach as if
to pin me down. Slipping her girl-wet finger out of my vagina, she
yanked my panties further down my legs. Her finger entered me
again, squelching my juices of passion in its search for the creamy
softness of my cervix. My body shaking violently, I was close to
orgasm. Close to my sexual heaven.

"Kirsty," my
mother called, tapping on the door. "Kirsty, Sharon's mother is at
the door." My orgasm scurried back into the warren of my vagina and
bolted into my womb like a frightened rabbit. Sharon's wet finger
leaving my yearning vaginal sheath as she leaped up from the bed, I
sat upright and tugged my panties up. Trembling like a leaf in the
wind, my face flushed, I watched Sharon stagger to the door on her
sagging legs.

"I'll ring you
tomorrow," she said, her sparkling eyes catching mine. Her lashes
fluttered and she turned away. "Tomorrow evening."

"Yes," I
whispered shakily. She opened the door and left the room. I heard
her bound down the stairs. I was alone with my thoughts. Alone in
my naughtiness. Guilt engulfed me.