The morning light crept through the edges of my curtains, bathing my room in a muted, gray glow. I lay still, staring at the ceiling, the remnants of my dream clinging to my senses. The steam, the glances, the tension—it was all still there, vivid and raw, leaving me breathless and lingering like a sense of loss. The faintest tremor ran through my body as I closed my eyes, trying to shake the memory. But she whispered, “Don’t.” Her voice tasted honey, with a faint touch of lavender.
It wasn’t just the dream that weighed on me, though. It was Friday. And Fridays always felt heavy.
Alice would be gone for the weekend.
I dragged myself out of bed, the cool floorboards biting my bare feet. Fridays weren’t just about the anticipation of two days without her. They were about the walls closing in, the endless sermons and prayers, the suffocating stillness of this house that never felt like home. My mother’s voice drifted up from the kitchen, soft and rhythmic, her morning prayer for my soul as steady as the clock’s ticking in the hall. “Lord, guide David’s steps today so he may walk in your light.”
I pulled on my clothes, inhaled Alice’s intoxicating room, and stared into the mirror as I smoothed my hair into place. The reflection staring back was the same as always—small, unremarkable, invisible. David. Just David. I sighed and turned away, grabbing my backpack before heading downstairs.
My dad’s figure towered at the kitchen table, a silent grunt behind his newspaper, as mom served his breakfast like a good, Christian wife.
At school, Fridays were both a relief and a torment. I didn’t have to endure the sermons quite yet, but I knew the weekend loomed ahead, waiting to trap me. At least I’d see Alice today—one last time before the emptiness settled in.
I caught sight of her in the hallway before the first period, her fiery red curls bouncing as she walked. She spotted me, her green eyes lighting up with that familiar spark, and shot me a quick grin that made the world glow slightly brighter than grey. For a moment, I could almost forget about the weekend, the prayers, the aching loneliness.
“Hey,” she said casually, falling into step beside me as though it was an afterthought. It might have seemed like nothing to anyone else—just two classmates walking in the same direction. But to me, it was everything.
“Ready for two days of uninterrupted divine intervention?” she teased, her voice light but laced with enough sarcasm to bring a smile to my lips.
I couldn’t help but laugh, though it was tinged with bitterness. I didn’t look at her, keeping my gaze forward and my expression neutral. Anything more would risk drawing attention, and I wouldn’t let that happen. “You know it,” I muttered under my breath.
I didn’t need to look to know how her expression shifted, how her nose twitched slightly as she thought, her freckles scrunching up just a little when she was trying to find the right words.
As we neared my locker, I stopped and crouched, pretending to tie my shoe. She paused next to me, a small, calculated risk in a crowded hallway, and nudged me gently with her shoulder.
“Hang in there,” she said, her voice softer now, almost drowned out by the noise around us. “It’s just a weekend. I’ll see you on Monday. Both of you.”
I looked up briefly, startled, but her expression was already neutral, her smile fleeting as she turned and walked away before anyone could notice.
Alice never told me much about her weekends. Just enough to keep me wondering. She stayed with her mom— “Barely a mother,” she’d said once, rolling her eyes in that way that made it clear the words meant more than they sounded. “But someone’s got to keep her plants alive, I guess.” When I pressed her for details, she’d only shrug, that sly grin tugging at the corner of her lips, her green eyes sparkling.
“I get into trouble, you know me.”
Her voice would lilt, teasing and playful, but I wondered what “trouble” meant to her. She made it sound like a game, but I never dared to ask more, but the mystery lingered.
The rest of Friday passed in a blur. Classes dragged on as usual, the hours stretching out like an eternity. My classmates moved through the day with an ease I couldn’t understand. They joked and laughed, their voices filling the halls, their movements confident and unguarded.
I watched them with new awareness, though, catching glimpses I’d never let myself notice before. The way Dwight’s muscles flexed beneath his shirt as he reached for something in his locker. The way another boy ran his fingers through his hair, casually pushing it back as he leaned against the wall. They moved like they belonged, like they fit. And for the first time, I felt more than envy. I felt curiosity.
When the final bell rang, the relief was immediate but short-lived. The weekend loomed, and as Alice waved goodbye, her grin as bright as ever, I felt the ache settle in my chest.
By Monday morning, the weight was unbearable. Church and prayers had drained me, my mother’s lectures and my father’s silence pressing down on me like a stone. My thoughts had circled Alice all weekend, wondering what “trouble” she’d found, whether she thought of me at all.
Veronica had faded from my mirror, but I felt her linger, only slightly deeper.
At school, I moved through the day differently. My dream lingered in the back of my mind, vivid and unrelenting, a flickering reel of images that I couldn’t shake. I didn’t want to shake it. As I navigated the crowded hallways, I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on my classmates, those stolen glances I had always forced myself to suppress. But now, there was something different. Hunger.
It wasn’t just envy anymore, though that was still there, simmering beneath the surface. It was a longing, raw and undeniable, to understand the surge in my belly when I saw Dwight’s flexing muscles as he laughed at his locker, the ease with which the others moved through the world. What was it about them that I both envied and desired? And why did I feel so breathless in their presence?
The tension hit me like a wave in the showers after gym class. I’d always kept my eyes low, my body turned away, shielding myself from their laughter and casual cruelty. But today, I couldn’t stop myself. My eyes darted from one body to the next, drawn to the curves of muscle slick with wetness, the droplets trailing down their skin. The steam swirled around us, making everything feel hazy and unreal.
They were so unashamed, so untamed. Their laughter echoed off the tiles, their bodies moving without hesitation, their different sizes swinging freely between their legs. My heart raced, my breath catching in my throat as I stared longer than I should have, drawn to the stark contrast between their confidence and my hidden shame.
Why did my chest tighten? Why did my hands tremble at my sides? Why did the sight of them—so easy, so free—leave me aching in ways I couldn’t name?
I turned quickly, keeping my back to the wall, the shame burning in my chest. But the shame wasn’t as sharp as before. It was dulled, softened by something I couldn’t yet name.
I didn’t see Alice until after lunch, and by then, the ache in my chest had started to settle in like a dull throb. But when I caught sight of her fiery curls bouncing in the breeze, that ache softened. She moved through the courtyard with her usual confidence, her locks wild and carefree, as if the world’s weight didn’t apply to her.
Her green eyes found mine briefly, just a flicker of connection before she let her gaze drift away again. Her hand brushed mine in passing—so light, so fleeting it could have been an accident, but it wasn’t. Like a whispered reminder, the touch sent a spark through me: I’m here.
I knew exactly where she’d gone. She was sitting behind me on the bench we always claimed as ours.
Her voice floated over my shoulder, soft and teasing. “Miss me?”
I kept my face forward, twirling my fingers.
“Always,” I murmured under my breath, low enough that no one else would hear. And I meant it.
There was a pause, just long enough for me to feel her grin without seeing it. “Coming over later?”
“After hell,” I muttered, keeping my tone casual, though I felt the corners of my mouth twitching into a faint smile.
When I finally glanced back, the bench was empty, except for the small note she’d left tucked beneath its edge.
The bus ride home slipped my memory, as did my mother’s venom tongue. I endured dinner, prayer, and the lecture, but then I was gone.
The kitchen light was dim, and the faint hum of the refrigerator filled the silence as I grabbed my jacket. My mother was at the table; her Bible spread open before her, the pages worn and smudged from years of devotion. She didn’t look up immediately, but I could feel her presence like a weight pressing down on me, her judgment heavy in the air.
“Where are you going?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness.
I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the doorknob. “Out… just need some air.”
I heard her Bible slam shut and the screech as the legs of her chair scraped the kitchen floor. Her figure loomed at the kitchen door, staring at me, her eyes narrowing.
“You’re meeting her again, aren’t you?”
The word “her” dripped with disdain, like it physically pained her to say it. She pressed a hand to her chest, her fingers curling as if clutching at an invisible wound. “That girl is poisoning you, David. Can’t you see what she’s doing? She’s dragging you further and further from God’s light.”
I swallowed hard, the familiar knot tightening in my stomach. “She’s not… It’s not like that,” I muttered, though the words felt hollow, their edge dulled by years of rehearsing the same defense.
“She’s trouble,” my mother snapped, rising from her chair. “A scarlet woman leading you into sin. Do you even pray anymore? Do you even hear the sermons, or are you too busy thinking about her?”
“I pray,” I lied, my voice barely above a whisper. The truth hung in the air between us, unspoken but undeniable.
“You don’t think I know?” she continued, her voice rising. “I can smell her on you. That cheap perfume, that filth—”
“Enough,” I said, more forcefully than I intended but milder than she deserved, and her eyes widened in shock. My heart raced, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“I just need air.”
I didn’t wait for her response. I turned the doorknob and stepped outside, the cool night air hitting my face like a slap. Her voice followed me, muffled and faint as I shut the door behind me, her final words ringing in my ears: “Pray, David! Pray for your soul before it’s too late!”
I sighed and let my feet find their way. The tension from the house ebbed with each step, the cool air sharpening my thoughts and dulling the edges of everything else. The weight on my chest lightened, replaced by a strange, quiet clarity—a calm I only ever found during these walks.
My mind sifted through the noise, the clutter of my mother’s words, the weight of her expectations. Out here, they couldn’t reach me. I could finally breathe. The stillness settled in, not empty, but steady, like the moments between heartbeats.
Before I realized it, I was standing in front of her door. My heart sighed in relief, and for the first time all day, I didn’t feel numb.
As Alice opened the door, it was clear she had started without me. The faint smell of weed immediately hit me, mingling with her house’s familiar earthy sweetness. Her eyes were a bit red, and there was a soft haze in them, but it did nothing to dull their sparkle. If anything, it added a playful glow, her giggle bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting to spill over. She was stoned; there was no question about it.
Before I could speak, she wrapped her arms around me, pulled me into her warmth, and planted a quick, soft kiss on my lips. Her lips were warm and faintly sweet, a taste that lingered and sent my thoughts spinning.
“Sorry,” she said, though her grin told me she wasn’t sorry at all. “I just had to. Come, come!” Her words tumbled out delightedly as she grabbed my arm and tugged me inside.
Her father sat in the living room, sunk into his usual spot in a cloud of smoke. A half-finished joint dangled between his fingers as he waved a big, calloused hand in greeting. “Hey, kiddo.”
His graying hair was a wild bird’s nest, blending into an overgrown beard that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in years. Only his bloodshot but kind eyes peeked out, giving him an almost comical appearance as a benevolent hermit dropped into suburbia.
“Don’t stay up too late,” he added, his voice slow and relaxed, a well-worn phrase full of good intentions but little real conviction. By the time he finished speaking, Alice had already whisked me halfway up the stairs.
Alice giggled all the way up, her laughter light and infectious, her curls bouncing with each step. She paused at the top of the stairs, looking back at me with that familiar mischievous glint in her eye. “Go on,” she urged, gesturing toward her bedroom door. “Get in there!”
I hesitated momentarily, but her grin was impossible to resist. I stepped into her room, immediately hit by her world’s warm, jewel-toned glow. Before I could fully take it in, Alice was behind me. She slipped into the room and shut the door with a soft click. When I turned, she was leaning back against it, her head tilted slightly, her red curls spilling down her shoulders in untamed waves. Her nose twitched, her expression dancing between playful and conspiratorial as if she were about to reveal the best secret in the world.
“What do you think?” she said, bursting with excitement.
“Uh,” I started, dumbfounded.
“For the mother of…” she sighed dramatically, then strode purposefully toward me, her bare feet silent on the floor. She placed her hands firmly on my hips and spun me around, directing my gaze toward what I expected to be her usual cluttered desk.
Instead, my breath caught. What had been her chaotic workspace—a mess of tangled necklaces, half-burned candles, and forgotten notebooks—was now a neatly organized haven. A large mirror framed with strings of twinkling fairy lights rested on the desk, reflecting her room’s soft, colorful glow. The makeup was meticulously arranged in a line of palettes, brushes, lipsticks, and powders, each item perfectly in its place, as though she had spent hours preparing for this moment.
But that wasn’t all. She had hung a row of clothing on a makeshift rack to the left of the desk, each garment carefully selected. Dresses of every color and length—from elegant blacks to playful pastels—hung beside skirts that ranged from flouncy to daringly short. There were cropped tops and flowing blouses, sequined camisoles, and fitted sweaters, each piece whispering of possibility. And below them, neatly folded, were stacks of stockings, delicate lace bralettes, and matching underwear in an array of fabrics and colors. Silk, lace, and cotton gleamed softly under the warm light, each radiating care and intention.
It wasn’t just a collection. It was almost a shrine. And I knew, with a certainty that sent a tremor through me, that it was for Veronica.
I barely noticed how Alice hugged me from behind, her firm breasts pressing against my back and her hands clinging to my chest. She rested her chin lightly on my shoulder, her breath warm against my ear.
“Well?” she whispered, her voice soft but brimming with pride. “Do you like it?”
I swallowed hard, and my throat suddenly dried. “This is… it’s… for me?” I managed to say, my voice barely audible.
“It’s for Veronica,” she corrected gently, her arms tightening around me for a moment before she stepped away. She moved toward the desk, curls bouncing with every step, and picked up a tube of lipstick. She turned it over in her fingers, her expression softening as she spoke again.
“You’ve been hiding her for too long. It’s time she had a space of her own.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the setup. The mirror reflected not just the space but something I didn’t quite recognize—something that felt both terrifying and exciting. The clothes, makeup, and care Alice had poured into it all were overwhelming, but it was also… freeing. Like a door had been opened to a room I hadn’t known existed.
“This,” Alice said, placing the lipstick back down and turning to face me, “is just the beginning. Tonight, we’re going to bring her out—just a little. No pressure. No expectations. Just us.”
She reached for a sleek, deep-blue dress hanging on the rack and held it up to me, her grin widening. “But first,” she said, her voice dropping into that conspiratorial whisper I couldn’t resist, “we need to get you ready.”
She carefully hung the dress back on the rack, grabbed a joint from her desk, and lit it. The flame briefly illuminated her face, her features soft yet intent as she took a deep drag. She exhaled slowly, a plume of smoke curling lazily in the air, before handing it to me with a knowing smile.
“First, let me find you at perfection,” she said, her voice warm and steady. “Then I’ll teach you how to do it yourself. Deal?”
I nodded, the joint trembling slightly between my fingers as I took a slow drag. The familiar warmth spread through me, calming the nervous flutter in my chest. I sat down in front of the mirror, watching Alice move behind me with the focused determination of an artist at work.
I watched my transformation until David was gone under Alice’s gentle care. She worked meticulously, her hands steady as she applied makeup, brushed out my messy blond hair, and pinned it into soft, elegant waves. She took her time, highlighting every trace of femininity while concealing what little remained of the boy. The latter, as she pointed out with a teasing grin, wasn’t much to begin with. “See?” she said, laughing softly as she stepped back to admire her work. “You’ve been Veronica all along.”
Once the makeup was done, the real fun began. She rifled through her collection of clothes, pulling out outfit after outfit, draping them over me like I was her personal mannequin. Some pieces she adored, like a daringly short skirt paired with just a bra, but the discomfort on my face made her pause. Without hesitation, she hustled back to the rack, her curls bouncing as she muttered, “Okay, not quite you. Let’s try again.”
Finally, after what felt like an endless parade of fabrics, she circled back to the dress she had started with. The deep blue fabric shimmered softly under the warm light, clinging perfectly to my newly discovered curves. Standing in front of the mirror, I couldn’t look away. Veronica stared back at me, confident and stunning, her blue eyes wide with wonder. I barely recognized myself.
Alice stepped beside me; her grin reflected in the mirror as she reached for one final piece. She held up a tiny red thong, the fabric delicate and impossibly small. “And now,” she said, placing it in my trembling hands, “the finishing touch.”
I slid out of my boxers, my movements hesitant but eager, and stepped into the tiny garment. The soft fabric hugged me tightly, its embrace strangely comforting, almost like it belonged. I smoothed the sides into place, my fingers lingering as I adjusted it. I couldn’t move, mesmerized by the image in the mirror. Veronica wasn’t just real—she was undeniable.
“God, you’re stunning,” Alice gasped, now sitting cross-legged on her bed.
“Thank you,” my honey-glazed voice replied as I watched my face blush complimentary.
“Let’s get naked,” Alice purred invitingly.
The words didn’t fully register; I was lost in Veronica. She smiled back at me from the mirror, radiating a joy I hadn’t seen in my reflection for years. It wasn’t just the stunning little blonde with all the right curves or how the dress hugged my body perfectly, highlighting everything I’d never known I wanted to see. No—it was the happiness in her eyes, the confidence that felt foreign but unmistakable.
When I finally managed to tear my gaze from the mirror, I turned, a smile still playing on my lips as I looked toward Alice.
My eyes found her sprawled on the bed, stark naked, her pale skin glowing like porcelain in the flickering candlelight. Her head rested on a pillow, though it seemed to float on a crimson cloud of untamed curls. The fiery strands fanned out around her, framing her freckled face, her green eyes alight with mischief and anticipation.
Her body was a study in perfect proportions—her breasts, neither small nor large, were firm and round, the soft curve of each one dusted with a faint sprinkle of freckles that trailed down her chest like the remnants of a playful sunbeam. Her flat, slightly toned stomach dipped gently toward her hips, the muscles faintly visible, a quiet testament to her effortless grace.
Just below, a fiery red strip of thin, well-kept hair crowned her sex, standing out against the creamy fairness of her skin. The bold, untamed color was as unapologetic as the rest of her, daring and full of life. Her legs stretched across the bed; one bent just slightly, the other lazily draped over the edge, highlighting the gentle, round curve of her buttocks that pressed into the soft sheets beneath her.
She lay there completely at ease, every line of her body exuding confidence and warmth. The faint dusting of freckles over her shoulders and arms caught the dim light, adding a playful texture to her otherwise smooth, flawless skin. She was art in motion, even while still, a chaotic blend of softness and fire, entirely her own.
“Come lie with me. Please.”
I hesitated, the words hanging in the air between us. The invitation was tempting—achingly so—but I wasn’t comfortable enough in my skin to fully accept it. Not yet. Even so, I couldn’t resist her warmth, her presence. Keeping the dress on like a shield, I crawled into bed beside her, my movements cautious but deliberate.
Alice turned toward me, her curls spilling like fire across the pillow. She rolled onto her side, her body molding against mine as she draped her right leg between mine, her knee pressing lightly against the fabric of my dress. Her touch was unhurried, deliberate. Her fingers found my chest, tracing slow, delicate circles over the fabric, her touch sending shivers across my skin.
“Do you… would you…” she began, her voice unusually tentative. Alice searched for words for once, her usual confidence faltering just slightly. Her nose, usually twitching with certainty, couldn’t seem to guide her.
Her green eyes met mine, glittering with something unreadable, and then she leaned in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like to have your body entered by a lapping tongue? To feel it set you ablaze? Stirring from your crotch, tingling your toes, and melting your mind?”
Her words hung in the air, and I tensed involuntarily. My mind reeled, her voice painting vivid sensations I hadn’t dared to imagine before. And then, like a wave crashing through my thoughts, my dream from the other night came flooding back—the steam, the glances, the tension, the dream that had left me trembling and breathless. Hadn’t I longed for their touch, their tongues, and their…no, surely not that?
I gasped at the thought, tensing up slightly, but Alice hushed me.
“Not even the slightest bit curious?” she hissed, almost taunting, “At how a cock sliding into you can steal your breath so easily?”
“I…I don’t have those parts…” I mumbled, confidence fading.
“Nonsense,” she whispered, “I felt your clit the other night and have wanted to taste her ever since.”
Her words struck me like lightning, sharp and unrelenting, igniting something deep within me that I couldn’t ignore. My breath caught, my cheeks burning hot, and my chest tightened as I struggled to form a coherent thought. Every fiber felt exposed, raw, and trembling under her gaze.
“I…” My voice cracked, barely audible. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Alice leaned closer, her fiery curls brushing against my cheek, her breath warm and teasing against my ear. Her fingers, still tracing lazy circles on my chest, pressed down slightly, sending me a shiver.
“You don’t have to know,” she murmured, her voice low and velvety. “You just have to feel.”
Her hand trailed downward, slow and deliberate, testing my boundaries with every inch. She paused just below my ribs, her green eyes locking onto mine with a mix of mischief and hunger.
“You may not have those parts,” she whispered, her lips curving into a sly smile, “but your pussy is as good as any, trust me. You are everything a man desires. And more.”
I swallowed hard, my body betraying me as I trembled under her touch. My mind screamed at me to pull away, retreat, and hold onto the last shred of control I thought I had. But my body—the part of me that Veronica was slowly learning to embrace—ached to stay. Ached to let her in.
“Don’t you feel how I ache to be taken?”
Veronica’s whispers rippled through me; her words unbidden yet undeniably mine. They sent a jolt through me, my breath hitching, every tiny hair on my body standing on edge.
Alice’s grin softened, her teasing confidence giving way to something deeper, more tender. “I feel it,” she murmured, her hand shifting to rest over my hip, her thumb stroking gently through the fabric of the dress. “I feel it every time I look at you. And I know you feel it too.”
I couldn’t deny it, not anymore. The ache in my chest, the fire pooling low in my belly, and the way my breath quickened every time she looked at me like that was all too much to ignore. My walls, the ones I’d spent so long building, felt fragile, ready to crumble at the slightest touch.
Her lips brushed against my ear, her voice a whisper that felt like a caress. “Let me show you,” she breathed. “Let me show Veronica what it feels like to be wanted. To be adored.”
I let out a shaky breath, my fingers curling into the sheets as her hand slid higher, teasing the edge of my dress. Her movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though she was giving me time to stop her, to pull away. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Instead, I closed my eyes, surrendering to the moment, to her. To Veronica.
Do you want me to stop?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her lips hovering dangerously close to mine. Her green eyes bore into mine, searching my face—not for consent, but for something deeper. For desire.
“Don’t stop. Please.” The words spilled from me, soft and sweet, like honey dripping from a comb in the gold warmth of the sun. It was all Veronica, unrestrained and trembling with anticipation.
Alice purred softly, the sound low and thrilling, as her hand moved with deliberate care up the inside of my thigh. My legs shifted instinctively, parting just slightly, like I was a marionette controlled by strings tied to something deeper, something primal—an earthy drift far removed from the condemning God my mother worshipped.
“Nothing that feels like this—angels dancing on my every nerve and life flowing so uncontrollably delightful—can ever be a sin,” Veronica whispered, her honey spilling over my lips in a hushed moan.
Alice’s fingers brushed the fabric of my thong, feather-light and tentative at first, as though testing the waters. The sensation sent a jolt through me, stirring something I’d never experienced before, something warm and consuming. My breath caught in my throat, a soft, involuntary moan escaping my lips.
Alice’s breath hitched, her hand stilling for just a moment before she pressed her palm more firmly against me, eliciting another gasp from my trembling frame. “Oh, fuck,” she murmured, her voice thick with delight. “What an excited clit.”
The words sent a shiver through me, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. Her fingers began to move in slow, teasing circles, exploring me through the delicate fabric. Each movement drew soft whimpers from my lips, sounds I couldn’t suppress or didn’t want to suppress.
“You feel that?” Alice whispered, her tone full of reverence and mischief. “That’s you, Veronica. All of you.”
My head fell against the pillow, my body arching slightly toward her touch. I wanted to respond, to say something, but words failed me. All I could do was feel—feel her, feel myself, feel the weight of everything I had been too scared to embrace until now.
Her burning eyes met mine, reading every response etched into my face. Her expression was tender yet brimming with excitement. “Let’s find out, shall we?” she whispered, her voice a warm, breathy exhale that sent a ripple of anticipation through me.
“Find out what?” I murmured, my voice trembling, caught between nervousness and longing.
“What you taste like, of course,” she purred, her tone playful but reverent, sending a shiver racing down my spine.
She sat up with care, her movements unhurried and deliberate, like she wanted to savor every second of this moment with me. Her hands found the hem of my dress, and she gently began to lift it, her fingers brushing against my thighs. The soft fabric slid upward, her touch leaving trails of warmth in its wake. With every inch she uncovered, I felt more exposed, more vulnerable—but also more alive. By the time she had the dress fully gathered at my waist, I was trembling, my chest rising and falling as I struggled to catch my breath.
Her hand moved back to my crotch, her palm pressing firmly against the delicate fabric of my thong. She began to rub slowly, her movements gentle yet deliberate, and I gasped as a wave of pleasure surged through me. I arched my back, a soft whimper escaping my lips—unrecognizable, yet undeniably mine.
Her lips found the softness of my belly, pressing soft, lingering kisses into my skin. Each one sent a spark through me, her warmth and tenderness lighting something deep inside. Her tongue followed, tracing lazy circles that steadily drifted downward. My hips shifted toward her, a silent plea, and she hummed softly in response, her breath brushing over the thin fabric that separated me from her.
“Do you feel that, Veronica?” she whispered, her voice hushed and reverent, her lips barely an inch from my skin. “That surge inside you? Leaving you slightly unhinged and longing?”
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words. My fingers curled into the sheets, gripping them tightly as she continued, her tongue and lips tracing their way to the very center of me. Then, finally, her warm breath ghosted over the fabric, and I let out a soft, broken moan, my chest heaving as a flood of sensations overwhelmed me.
She paused for just a moment, her lips hovering, and then I felt her tongue against me. Slow, deliberate, a touch that sent lightning bolts through every nerve in my body. I gasped, my head falling back against the pillow, my hips lifting toward her instinctively. The world blurred, fading into nothing but the rhythm of her touch, the warmth of her mouth, and the quiet murmurs of encouragement she gave between kisses.
“You’re incredible,” she whispered against me, her voice full of awe, her fingers steadying my trembling thighs. “Perfect, just like this.”
Then, as if creating a whirlwind inside me, she gently began pulling at the thin strings of my thong. Her breath brushed against the curve of my left thigh as she murmured, “Lift that cute bum for me.”
Instinctively, I lifted myself off the bed, just slightly, my body responding before my mind could catch up. It was enough for her to slide the delicate fabric down my thighs. I curled my legs in a soft movement, allowing her to easily free the tiny garment. The motion was fluid, effortless, and somehow felt as natural as breathing. Carefree. Casually. It was so perfectly Alice—fitting seamlessly into her lavender-scented world of sweetness, musk, and velvet—but to me, it was a thrilling, dizzying leap into the unknown.
She let the thong fall to the floor, her green eyes flicking back at me. “God, she’s so excited,” Alice groaned, her voice heavy with longing as she lay her head on my thigh. Her curls tickled my skin as her gaze lingered, drinking in every inch of me with an intensity that made my heart race.
Her fingertip trailed upward, feather-light against the inside of my thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. She stopped to gently cup my small scrotum, her touch reverent, almost worshipful, before her finger traced upward. When she reached my clit, I jolted, a gasp escaping my lips as waves of desire and affirmation coursed through me. What David had loathed, Veronica claimed, what David had denied in shame empowered Veronica under Alice’s reverent touch. She circled it with a delicate touch, teasing, her movements precise and intentional, as though savoring every moment.
“I’ve got to have her,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, her lips brushing against my skin. Her words sent a shiver through me, every nerve alive and buzzing.
She leaned in slowly, her breath warm against me, and then her tongue flicked against my clit—a quick, teasing motion that made my hips buck involuntarily. Her lips followed, capturing me in a greedy, warm embrace that left me breathless. She sucked gently, her tongue moving in tandem, each motion sending electric jolts through my body.
My legs spread wider without thought, giving myself over to her completely. Her hand caressed the soft tissue between my thighs, her fingers tracing gentle patterns that felt like fire and silk. She moved with care, her touch grounding and exhilarating all at once, before her fingers found the sensitive entrance to my body. She hesitated for just a moment, her eyes flicking up to meet mine as though asking for permission, before rubbing gently, her movements slow and deliberate.
My breath hitched, my hands clutching at the sheets beneath me as she worked her magic. Every sensation was new, overwhelming, but somehow right. Her mouth continued its dance against me, drawing me deeper into her rhythm, while her hand explored with a tenderness that made my chest ache.
There was no more David—only Veronica—fully seen, fully felt, and entirely alive in Alice’s hands.
Alice’s touch was deliberate, her fingers gliding across my most sensitive places, rubbing my tenderness…her womanhood—my pussy—in slow, languid circles that softened me, relaxed me, and still left no part of my throbbing clit neglected. Every stroke sent ripples of pleasure through me, each one building on the last.
“Oh, fuck, turn around, babe,” she panted suddenly, releasing me with a torturous sense of emptiness and abandonment that made my body ache for her return.
I whimpered softly, unable to hide the desperate need that spilled from me. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded, my voice trembling.
“I’m not stopping,” she reassured, her tone firm yet filled with the warmth of her knowing smile. She always read me like an open book. “We’re just getting started.”
I swallowed hard, my body obeying her as I turned over and lay on my stomach. The cool sheets against my chest contrasted with the heat coursing through me, heightening the anticipation.
“Here,” she said softly, her hands slipping beneath me to tuck a pillow under my hips, lifting my bare ass into the air. The vulnerable position sent me a shiver of excitement and nervousness, but the reassurance in her every movement kept me grounded.
Her hands were warm as they smoothed over my skin, the gentle pressure sending waves of pleasure rippling through me. A whimper escaped my lips, unbidden but true, and I felt her lean closer, her fiery curls brushing against my lower back as she murmured, “So smooth. Delicately adorned, fluttering little hairs… a ripe peach, ready to be devoured.”
Her words sent a blush racing up my neck, but there was no shame, only exhilaration. Gently, as though unearthing a fragile treasure, her hands moved to spread me. The motion was slow and reverent, as if she savored every moment. The cool air brushed against my bare skin, a fleeting contrast to the heat of her touch. I felt her breath, hot and ragged, ghosting over me, and we both moaned in unison—an unspoken acknowledgment of the moment’s weight.
Then, with deliberate care, her tongue traced a slow, teasing path down the curve of my crack. I gasped, my body tensing and trembling under her as she found me completely open, completely willing, and utterly needy. Her lips pressed against me, and her tongue moved with purpose, exploring me in ways I hadn’t thought possible. Each flick and caress sent jolts of pleasure through me, igniting every nerve.
Alice groaned softly, her warm breath washing over me as the tip of her tongue circled my opening, teasing and testing. My body tensed with anticipation, and then, with a gentle push, she slipped inside. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever felt before—foreign yet deeply familiar, thrilling yet comforting. My breath hitched, and a low, guttural moan escaped me.
I hollered and whined as she worked her magic, her tongue exploring me with a growing intensity that left me trembling. Each flick, each press, each deliberate movement unraveled me further, a delicious torment that blurred the edges of my thoughts. She sucked at my hole, her lips wet and insistent, each slurp and kiss pulling soft cries from my lips. The sound was raw and needy, a symphony of my surrender.
Her hand slid beneath me, her fingers finding my clit with a precision that left no room for mercy. This wasn’t the delicate, teasing touch of earlier; this was something entirely different. She moved with a determined vigor, her fingers rubbing me with an urgency that tilted my world on its axis. My body responded instinctively, arching into her touch, chasing the pressure, the friction, the overwhelming sensation that built and built until it felt as though I might burst.
The room spun around me, a kaleidoscope of sensation and sound. The wet, rhythmic noises of her tongue and lips, the relentless stroking of her fingers, the thundering of my heartbeat in my ears—it all melded into a chaotic symphony of pleasure. I could feel myself dripping, my body responding to her in ways I’d never imagined, aching with desire so raw it consumed me.
And then, just as I thought I might unravel entirely, her tongue left me, but she didn’t leave me wanting for long. Her finger replaced her tongue, rubbing me gently at first, circling my opening in slow, deliberate motions that made my toes curl.
She pressed against me, her finger testing my readiness, and I felt myself push back at her, my body answering her unspoken question. I wanted this. I needed this. And then…
She slid inside me.
A sharp gasp tore from my lips as her finger entered, the sensation both alien and electrifying. My body clenched instinctively around her, but her touch was patient and soothing, her movements deliberate as she gave me time to adjust. The fullness was overwhelming, a deep, aching pleasure that sent shockwaves through every nerve in my body.
Alice leaned in, her lips brushing against the curve of my lower back as her finger moved inside me, slow and rhythmic. “You’re amazing,” she murmured, her voice a reverent whisper. “You feel incredible. You make me so wet.”
Her words raced up my spine in shivers, and I let out a soft, breathless cry as she began to move, her finger sliding in and out of me with increasing intensity. Her other hand stayed beneath me, her thumb circling my clit in perfect harmony with her motions. Each stroke, each press, each deliberate movement sent me spiraling higher, my world dissolving into nothing but the heat of her touch and the rush of sensation flooding my body.
I surrendered completely, my mind and body no longer my own but hers. My moans filled the room, raw and unrestrained, as she pushed me closer and closer to the edge, her hands and mouth weaving a symphony of pleasure that left no part of me untouched.
“Fuck me,” I pleaded, my voice thin and desperate, a cry ripped straight from the core of my need. “Please, fuck me.”
Alice’s breath hitched, and I felt another finger press inside me, stretching me, filling me beyond imagination. Her movements were steady and deliberate, and every stroke sent shockwaves through my body. At the same time, her other hand worked my clit, rubbing with an urgency that made me lose all sense of time and space. My world spun, spiraling out of control, consumed by her touch.
I tensed, my body coiling tightly, as a surge of sensation erupted from deep within me. It radiated outward like wildfire, spreading through my thighs, climbing my spine, and reaching into every nerve and muscle. My legs bent instinctively, my toes curling, my fingers digging into the sheets as if trying to anchor myself to reality. But there was no holding on. I was being carried, lifted, undone.
“I’m cumming, I’m cumming. You’re making me cum!” I hollered, my voice raw and trembling, echoing through the haze of the room.
The climax hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me with a force that left me breathless. My body spasmed and convulsed, and then—release. My clit pulsed as a spray erupted from me, soaking Alice’s hand and dripping onto the sheets beneath us. I felt myself clenched tightly around her fingers as if trying to hold her there, to keep her a part of me forever. But even that gave way as my muscles surrendered, my body melting into a blissful, numbing relaxation.
Alice’s hand slowed but didn’t pull away, her touch now soft and soothing, grounding me as I floated in the aftermath. She let out a breathless laugh, her voice full of awe. “God, that was awesome,” she panted, letting herself fall beside me, her fiery curls fanning across the pillow.
For a moment, we just lay there, the room heavy with the scent of lavender, sweat, and sex. Then, she lifted her hand, her fingers glistening, and she looked at them with a wicked grin before spreading her lips and licking them. Her moan was soft and indulgent, like she was savoring the finest delicacy.
“You should taste yourself,” she murmured, her voice sultry as her eyes found mine.
My chest rose and fell with shaky breaths, but I couldn’t look away as her fingers lingered, trailing from her mouth to my lips. She traced the outline delicately, her touch sending another ripple of sensation through me. Without hesitation, I opened my mouth and sucked her fingers in, tasting myself again—my confidence, beauty, and freedom.
Alice tilted her head slightly, her smirk deepening, almost like she knew a secret but wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Her green eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief, her lips curling into a knowing smile, and her nose wiggling.
“Really,” she murmured softly, her voice more curious than teasing. “Already dipped your fingers in the honey jar?”
I felt my cheeks blush, the heat drawing my eyes down. Then, when they found the courage to meet hers again, my lips curved into a smile quickly overwhelmed by my giggles.
Alice feigned a shocked gasp but watched with intent as I licked her fingers clean, softly sliding them in and out of my mouth. Then, as she pulled them out of my mouth, her lips met mine, damp, wet, and slightly sweet.
We lay there for a moment, the room steeped in the quiet hum of satisfaction and intimacy. Our breaths mingled, soft and unhurried, as we exchanged lazy, lingering touches and whispered thoughts that felt too fragile for the world outside her lavender-scented haven.
Alice rolled over to the nightstand, reaching for another joint, but froze midway.
“Fuck,” she muttered, her fiery curls spilling across her face as she turned back to me.
“What?” I asked, my voice steady but still carrying the remnants of my breathless state.
“Your curfew,” she sighed, a hint of guilt creeping into her voice. “It’s way past. I’m so sorry…”
I propped myself up on one elbow, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at my lips. “What curfew?” I asked, my voice smooth and honeyed, dripping with newfound confidence. “David has a curfew. I don’t.”
Her brow furrowed briefly, confusion flickering in her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. Her lips curved into a proud, wicked grin, her green eyes alight with approval.
“Fucking excellent,” she said, her voice brimming with pride and excitement.
She lit the joint with a practiced flick of her thumb, taking a slow drag before exhaling a thin plume of smoke. Her gaze never left mine as she leaned back against the pillows, the joint dangling lazily between her fingers.
“Then,” she said, her tone playful and teasing, “you can stay right there and watch me fuck myself. You owe me.”
Her words sparked me, igniting something equal parts curiosity and anticipation. I let my body sink back into the bed, confident. I was Veronica, fully formed, fully alive, and I didn’t need anyone’s permission to take up space.
Alice got up, fanned a blanket across the floor, then rummaged through her nightstand drawer and pulled out a fair-sized rubber cock. The sight of it made me tingly inside, a desire awakened.
I watched Alice lay on her back, spreading herself across the blanket like she owned the moment. Her fiery red curls fanned out around her, a striking contrast against the dark fabric. I could not take my eyes off her. Her pale skin glowed in the warm, jewel-toned light of the room, smooth and almost ethereal, like she had been sculpted from the softest marble. The faint sprinkle of freckles dusted across her chest and shoulders caught the light, making them seem to shimmer, like constellations scattered across her creamy complexion.
My eyes lingered on her breasts, perfectly round and impossibly inviting, their soft curves rising and falling with each breath she took. Her hand cupped her breast, pinching her nipple, her lips parting in a soft gasp as her other hand guided her silicone lover between her legs.
With a steady push, she eased the toy inside her, her breath hitching as her hips lifted slightly to meet the intrusion. “Oh, fuck,” she groaned, her head tipping back, exposing the elegant curve of her neck. Her movements were unrestrained, her hips rolling rhythmically, driving the phallus deeper with every thrust. The sight was mesmerizing—raw, sensual, and utterly Alice.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she locked her gaze on me. “Don’t just sit there,” she purred, her voice a sultry tease. “Watch me. I want you to see every inch of this.”
I leaned forward instinctively, the smoky haze in the room making everything feel dreamlike. My chest tightened as I watched her arch her back, her veiny lover glistening as it slid in and out of her. Her moans filled the room, rising in pitch as her movements grew more frantic. Her free hand gripped the blanket beneath her, her knuckles white with the strain, as her legs began to tremble.
She groaned deeply, almost growling, and then suddenly shifted. “Fuck, I’m so close,” she panted, her voice trembling with urgency. She turned onto her hands and knees in one fluid motion, her red hair spilling over her shoulders like a fiery waterfall. Her ass shot up into the air, the curve of her back accentuated by the angle as she impaled herself on the toy again, pushing it inside with an almost feral hunger.
Her breath came in short, desperate gasps, and I could see her muscles clench with each thrust, her movements wild and uninhibited. “Oh God, yes,” she moaned, her head dropping forward so that her hair spilled across the blanket in a chaotic halo.
Then, as her cries grew more frantic, she looked back over her shoulder at me, her green eyes blazing with need. “Come closer,” she begged, her voice breaking with desperation. “Please, Veronica, come closer.”
My body moved before my mind caught up, and I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I crawled toward her, my hands steadying myself on the blanket as I approached. Her scent—earthy, musky, and intoxicating—filled my senses, making my head spin.
“Lick me,” she pleaded, her voice trembling as her hips rocked back against the dildo. “Lick my ass. Please. I need to feel you.”
Her words sent a jolt through me, equal parts shock and exhilaration. I hesitated for a moment before leaning in, my hands gripping her hips as I brought my lips closer. Her skin was warm beneath my touch, her body trembling with anticipation.
I started slow, my tongue tracing soft, deliberate circles around the sensitive skin of her ass. Her response was immediate—her back arched further, her hips bucking as a guttural moan tore from her throat. “Yes, yes, just like that,” she cried, her voice breaking as she lost herself in the sensation.
My tongue pressed deeper, exploring her, tasting her, and every motion drew louder and more frantic cries from her lips. The rubber cock moved faster now, driven by her hand, her body teetering on the edge of release. I could feel her muscles clenching beneath my touch, every part of her consumed by the moment.
“Veronica,” she screamed, her voice raw and desperate, “I’m cumming!”
Her body tensed violently, her back arching as she slammed the dildo inside herself one last time. A cascade of tremors wracked her frame, her cries filling the room as she surrendered to the force of her climax. I held onto her, my lips and tongue still teasing her, prolonging the waves of pleasure that coursed through her.
Finally, she collapsed onto the blanket, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. Her hair clung to her damp skin, and her green eyes, heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction, found mine. She reached for me, pulling me down beside her, her arms wrapping around me as she pressed her lips to mine.
The kiss was slow, languid, and full of warmth, her tongue brushing softly against mine. When she pulled back, her fingers traced my cheek, her gaze softening. “You’re incredible,” she murmured, her voice hoarse but filled with affection.
We lay tangled together, her head resting against my chest as the room fell into a comfortable silence. The scent of lavender and smoke lingered, wrapping us in its hazy cocoon. My hand stroked her hair, my fingers tangling gently in the fiery strands as she sighed contentedly.
“Stay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Always,” I replied, my lips brushing against her temple as sleep claimed us both.
