Taco Belles

Around 1100 Hrs (11:00 AM), Professor Sandstorm was summoned to Admiral Thorndike's office. There was one other person in the room, whom the Admiral introduced, although Sandstorm recognized her from the photograph she had been shown yesterday.

When the two women looked at each other, they maintained eye-contact for a few seconds before the Councilwoman at last extended her hand while saying, "So you are the genius behind this mechanical marvel Admiral Thorndike is so enthusiastic about?" As the two women shook hands, the Councilwoman added, "I would very much like to see it."

"I am afraid it would make a poor showing right now," the Professor answered. "We've got it opened up and half its insides are spread out over three tables." Seeing the look of disappointment on the Councilwoman's face, the Professor quickly added, "Although I have tons of videos of the robot on my computers at home."

"That'll work," the Councilwoman's smile returned. "When would it be convenient?"

The Professor looked to the Admiral, who said, "You can do it now, if you want, Professor. It's not as if you are on the clock or anything."

At those words, the Councilwoman stood up. The Professor noticed that the woman was about two inches taller than herself and five, maybe ten years older. She was a curvy woman, although her breasts were not as big as Professor Sandstorm's. Few women's were. She had reddish-brown hair, green eyes, and thin lips.

Pausing at the door, Councilwoman de Mar looked back at Admiral Thorndike and asked, "Not on the clock? That means you are paying her a flat consulting fee? How much?"

"We haven't exactly worked that out," the Admiral answered. "Right now she's trying to modify her robot with our assistance. Sort of like an intern."

"Meaning that if you do purchase the device, she can submit a consulting fee for whatever amount she wants?" the Councilwoman asked, her plucked eyebrows lifted.

The Admiral tried to maintain his poker face, but there was a slight tightening around his eyes. He couldn't believe that he had walked into that one.

As Councilwoman Sharon de Mar sat in the passenger seat of Professor Denise Sandstorm's hover-craft, heading for the Professor's home/laboratory, Sharon said, "Listen, I'm starving. I had to take an early morning flight and haven't had breakfast or lunch. Can we stop somewhere and pick up some fast food?"

"I could take us to a restaurant," Denise offered.

"No, just go through a drive-thru," Sharon answered. "I really want to see those videos. Oh, there's a place." And she pointed to a Taco Bell.

Once they got to Denise's house, they went upstairs to eat the food in the living room while Denise simultaneously booted up her living room computer.

"You're familiar with that crude joke about tacos, aren't you?" Sharon asked as she bit into one of hers. When Denise shook her head no, Sharon said, "If nature did not intend for people to eat pussy, it would not have been made to look so much like a taco."

Diane snorted and had to stop chewing her food as she laughed. "Oh. That's terrible!"

"What? Eating pussy?" Sharon replied.

"Well, no. I enjoy it," Denise answered. "I mean, the joke is terrible . . . but a good terrible."

"You enjoy giving or receiving?" Sharon asked. "Or both?"

Finally, the lightbulb came on over Diane's head when she realized that Sharon was 'hitting on her'. Remembering what the Admiral had said about the power the Councilwoman wielded, and considering that she had blown Captain Depardieu almost daily for six months in an effort to get the military to look at her work, she decided to 'accept' the offer.

"Both," Denise answered, moving away from her computer to sit down on the couch next to Sharon. And thus ignoring the Admiral's admonishment about always telling the truth to Council Members. Diane had never done any 'carpet munching' before. Well, except for that time back in College, but that was so long ago, it hardly counted.

"Denise, isn't it?" Councilwoman de Mar asked as she stroked the side of the Professor's face and leaned in towards her. "My name is Sharon."

"Yes, I know," Denise replied, touching Sharon's face in return and closing the final few inches between their lips. It was different than kissing a man. The texture of her lips was softer, smoother. Probably from years of wearing lipstick. And naturally there was no beard stubble. As she got deeper into the kiss, twisting in her seat, she groped the other woman's body. Grabbing her full breasts, sliding her palm over Sharon's thighs.

When they broke their kiss, the pair started undressing each other. Buttons opened, zippers lowered, shoes kicked off, skirts tossed. Soon they were both naked, or nearly so. Denise slipped to her knees in front of the couch, burying her head in Sharon's crotch. Chewing on those smooth, slick, Brazilian-waxed nether lips. The all-powerful Chairperson of the Appropriations Committee hooked one foot on Denise's shoulders and brought the other up to the cushion, spreading her legs wide and moaning like a bitch in heat. Denise was amazed by the flow of the other woman's juices. The blonde with the short pixie-cut locked her mouth over the auburn-haired woman's pussy, sucking and licking. Swallowing repeatedly as her mouth filled with saliva and vaginal secretions, Denise pushed Sharon closer and closer to an orgasm.

Grasping Denise's head firmly with both hands, Sharon pulled her face in closer, holding it against her wet, dripping sex as her hips bucked and thrashed. Lifting her knees higher, curling her toes, she screamed in fulfillment and release. Shuddering and shaking. Quivering.

When at last Sharon's body went limp, Denise lifted her head and smiled up at her newfound friend. Sharon, looking down, returned the smile and stroked and petted Denise's short, pixie-cut hair with gratitude and affection. The blonde returned her attention to Sharon's wet pussy, giving it a few parting, good bye kisses and nuzzling it with the side of her face.

After Sharon had caught her breath and regained her composure, she sat up straighter and said, "Come here. It's my turn now."

Standing up, Denise removed her last article of clothing, sliding her panties down past her hips. Once Denise had settled in on the couch, nesting into the corner formed by the arm and back cushions, Sharon got up on her knees. She teasingly lowered her head to 'return the favor'.

"I see you like to keep yours smooth, too," she commented before beginning to lick and kiss.

Denise was amazed. The woman between her thighs really, really . . . really . . . knew what she was doing. Both Denise's eyes and mouth opened wide as she gasped and panted, probably setting a new 'speed record' for reaching a climax. Screaming out Sharon's name, Denise came. And came. And came.

By the time Denise returned to earth, she was laughing and crying and shaking. "Oh, Sharon! I've never . . . never . . . been eaten out like that before."

And so, the two women spent the next hour kissing, and cuddling, and chatting, and laughing. And finishing their take-out lunch.

However, both women were women of duty, and with groans and good-natured complaining, they got dressed to view the videos. It was nearly four o'clock by the time they stopped watching the monitor and despite Sharon's insistence that she could take a cab back to the hotel, Denise was more insistent that she drive her there.

"Oh, my," Sharon laughed as she descended the stairs to the first floor. "I had noticed your . . . decor . . . when I came in, but didn't really pay attention. What is this? Your laboratory?"

Smiling sheepishly at the mess and disorder, Denise shrugged, "Here and downstairs."

Glancing towards the open door that Denise indicated, Sharon approached it and peered down. Denise encouraged her to go ahead and take a look, an invitation which the Councilwoman accepted. As Denise explained what certain items were, their purposes and uses, or hoped for uses, Sharon noticed the 'blowjob machine'.