Izzie and the Ladies

When Izzie thought about the ladies, her fantasy went dark. She felt ashamed about it. She wouldn't admit that to Deb, for example. She would tell Jenny. Jenny was the only one who would understand. That's why they were living together.

When women lived to be a certain age, they were not called pretty, but "handsome". Those silver haired ladies were handsome, distinguished, even wealthy. They exuded a kind of entitlement, as if they could do whatever they wanted with Izzie because they were so...distinguished? They could treat Izzie as a plaything, and she was turned on by those thoughts in the darkness of the bedroom.

She thought of being held down, bent at her waist, face down, on the table, her wrists gathered and pinned to the small of her back. Fingers stroked behind her thighs, up her inner thighs, up under her skirt, giving her goosebumps. She gasped for air, almost couldn't breathe. She couldn't believe how wet she was, her juice running down the inside of her thigh while her body shuddered. Fingers traced the lips of her labia, coaxing even more juice to run out, then smeared her wetness into her asscrack.

By then Izzie was cumming in her bed, twisting her nipples mercilessly while rubbing the tight bead of her clit, throwing her hips up while she cried out "No!"

She panted, let herself take in a few gulps of air, then touched the little opening in her asscrack. What if they invade me there?

Closing her eyes, she now imagined herself lying on a long table in a fancy mansion. They have taken her there. Those ladies were rich, weren't they? This time she was on her back, completely naked. She couldn't move away, not that she wanted to, because someone she couldn't see was holding her arms up above her head, pinning her wrists together. She was the centerpiece, the center of attention at a fancy party. Women in elegant dresses hovered over her, touching her, exploring her body as it pleased them.

In bed, Izzie, reached up to grasp the spindles on the headboard with her fists. There were pieces of rope left there the last time Jenny tied her down. Oh, come home Jenny and fuck me! She was breathed hard. Her mouth was dry. She got up and went to the refrigerator, naked, to get a beer, and then she went to the toy chest.

She had another, earlier fantasy about being held down on a table. Once, when she was a waitress (always a waitress) at a roadside diner when a group of bikers roared in. They were all women, all very butch - no, not in leather, but in jean jackets with the sleeves cut off, and bandana on their heads. On the backs of their jackets was their logo. It showed a half naked, cartoonish babe with the initials "SM". Turned out it stood for Sapphic Machine. They were noisy, but polite. One of them winked at her when they left. She said "come ride with us some time!" She had blushed beet red.

Izzie took out her toys, and rubbed her cunt with the tip of the vibe. In her fantasy, they were not polite. They came late at night, the bikers, just before closing, rowdy and smelling of ****. They flipped the "Open" sign to "Closed" They pushed her onto a table, held her down, ripped her clothes off, laughing and saying lewd things. They played with her naked tits, sucked her nipples, both of them at the same time while a third went down on her cunt, washing the flat of her tongue all over her pussy, with a barbell bead in her tongue. Oh yes, it was a **** fantasy. One of them came packed, with a strap on between her legs. She moved in between Izzie's thighs and just pushed that thick dildo into her wet cunt.

Izzie cried out in bed, and plunged her buzzing vibe repeatedly into herself. She was so very very wet, throwing her head left and right, crying out "No!". Her body heaved up into an arc, her cunt clenched and she cummed so very hard, imagining being gang **** by a group of butch biker chicks, being fondled like a plaything in a rich mansion, everything blurring together.

Oh Jenny, come home soon!