Impact 19 Of The Sunday Scaries

TRIGGER WARNING: The focus of this story is a love affair between two women. But just as I am not a gold star lesbian, Sarah has an impure past. She is remembering that checkered past in this chapter, which includes episodes of nonconsent - but as always, the erotic focus is between women.

For those who pay attention to such things: When Sarah is alone the story is in the past tense. When Claire and Sarah are together the story is in present tense.

Thanks to HaltWhoGoesThere for copy editing.

Impact of The Sunday Scaries

"Tu m'apporté quoi?" Claire croaks, rubbing her eyes.

The foil wrapped bodega egg and cheese looks wonderfully silly on the gold rimmed porcelain plate. But the globe of chilled orange juice, meanwhile, looks truly beautiful in one of Claire's gigantic, magically thin wine glasses. I've poured her ice coffee in a pint glass. And while I left most of the bouquet in the kitchen, the single tulip in a bud vase really pulls the breakfast tray together.

She is struggling to sit up, blinking at the tray, her eyes comically bloodshot. Cheeks marked by lines from the mattress, from lying still for so long on the all-but-stripped bed, Claire is the portrait of a

very

hungover lady.

"Petit-déjeuner pour madame," I tease, doing a little curtsy and my best servant girl French. It's a lame joke but stifling a yawn, she gives me a small laugh. I drop the faux girlish-formality, as I set the tray on the window box. "This will help," I tell her more earnestly, turning to bend at the waist over the bed and hand her the juice and a Tylenol, showing her a little cleavage.

She is still too blurry eyed to enjoy the tease.

I watch Claire hold the bulb of the wine glass in both hands and take long greedy drinks of the sugary juice. Her eyes wander over my bosom while she does.

Wicked little curls lift the corners of her mouth as she breaks from gulping and gasps for air.

I feel like I can see a glimpse of the naughty little girl she must have been. I wonder whether Bridgitte enjoyed that naughty streak as much as I do, what she sounded like scolding petite Claire.

I take back the glass and Claire lifts herself out of bed. She looks a little sore and stiff. She should, she worked very hard last night.

While she does her morning ablutions I fetch more juice from the kitchen and remake the bed. I want to whistle while I work. I feel like Cinderella, I'm so happy making her bed.

We had managed to push the fitted sheet all the way down the mattress with most of the other bedding. Pulling the sheets and duvet back up, and retrieving the pillows from the floor, I fluff them into a backrest.

"Claire's fluffer," I think. Imagining her sitting in the middle of the bed like a queen.

Danny had told me about fluffers.

I was visiting home for Thanksgiving. We'd gone to a house party together, lots of old high school friends - his friends. One of them had made a joke and I hadn't understood, but I could tell the way everyone else reacted that it was something dirty, so I waited until I could ask him privately what it meant.

"Making pornos... they suck the guys' dicks between scenes," he whispered. "To keep them hard."

I had been shocked by the idea.

Being a porn star made a

certain

amount of sense to me - in an awful way.

Like prostitution, I could imagine desperate reasons for

having

to do it - money, addiction, threats of violence. But I wasn't a high school virgin. This was after Rebekah, after masterbating in locker rooms and my prof's office chair, and other public places, after my crazy fucking summer in New York. Which meant I was well acquainted with my own compulsive urges, and scared shitless of the consequences of giving into them. But it was still before my awful threesome with Darci. So while I'd

mostly

buckled down on those urges, I was still open to indulging them.

I

knew

I was an exhibitionist... the impulse to

risk

being caught was still a

very

guilty pleasure for me at that time; orgasmic actually. But I also knew from experience that the excitement of taking risks and fantasizing about getting caught and being punished was nothing like

actually

getting caught and

actually

being punished.

This is all to say, I could imagine how some women must like the attention, must

want

to do it, maybe even felt compelled to seek it out.

But a fluffer was different.

When Danny had told me what flufferes do, he and I had been away at Brown over two years and our long distance love affair had been particularly distancing that year.

I was almost certain he had been cheating on me. He probably thought the same about me. And really, I kind of was. I hadn't slept with another guy, but I knew what had happened with Rebekah and then in New York had crossed a line. My secret fantasy life - something I'd never told him or anyone else about - had begun to leak into my real life.

I had told myself that my fantasies were a way of staying true to Danny, but the truth was my imagination was moving me further and further from him, further from everyone. I wasn't just down on Danny at that point, I was down on myself. I felt entirely undesirable and alone.

When he told me what it meant to be a fluffer, I immediately began imagining it, fantasizing about it. I pictured what it would be like to be on a porn set as an anonymous cock sucker. I imagined men positioning lights, setting up cameras, running cables; women with walkie talkies or makeup kits moving with purpose. And in amongst them, me, doing my job, sucking dick.

I pictured the crew drinking coffee and talking casually while I was on my knees, a cock in my mouth.

The idea of that had seared me. It was

immediately

thrilling - I remember feeling faint.

I drank too much at that house party, going back to the keg with my solo cup again and again. It was as if Danny had lit a fire in my belly when he whispered what it meant in my ear and I was trying to put that fire out with beer.

When we were finally alone, I couldn't wait to go down on him, imagining I was a fluffier. It was the same kind of compulsion that drove me to masturbate in Rebekah's bed and then the locker room. I was so worked up by the idea I'd hurt him - pumping too fast with my fist, squeezing too hard, being careless with my teeth. He had finally pushed me off. Laughing, but angry, he had scolded me before letting me finish sucking him off.

The next night my family had Thanksgiving dinner with his family. Afterwards, when we were alone, I asked Danny if he wanted to watch porn with me. My question had shocked him, but he had clearly liked the idea. He told me he would borrow some tapes for us to watch that weekend.

I am entirely certain the porn we watched belonged to him.

We had watched in bed, in his little studio apartment over his parents' garage. I loved that little "bachelor pad", because it was one hundred percent furnished and outfitted by his mother, who kept it spotless.

So we were in a nice bedroom with clean sheets. Danny even lit candles.

I was braced to be shocked, maybe even hoping to be, but the video he chose was super vanilla, one guy at a time, one girl at time. The girls were pretty enough, the guys weren't gross.

Looking back, I'm certain, like the candles, Danny was being cautious, not wanting to scare me off. We watched together while I stroked him under the covers, but after a while I wanted to suck him off, to be his fluffer. I didn't tell him that, I just pushed down the covers and positioned myself so I could still see the TV if I looked to the side, and began sucking him off. I took peeks, especially at first, but I found the sound was enough.

I liked listening to the woman getting fucked hard and cuming. In my imagination I was just preparing Danny for his turn to fuck the girl he was watching on screen. Even though I was being gentle and slow, trying to stretch things out, Danny came in my mouth faster than usual.

Sucking him off while he watched porn became something we did over the holidays that year, and then after that... Not all the time, but we did it a lot.

Claire and I have never even discussed porn. I can't decide what she would want to watch. A woman with two men? Or maybe two women with a very big man? Probably just two very big men, fucking each other. But I doubt she'd be satisfied with porn, she'd want to watch the real thing...

Claire interrupts these thoughts, emerging from the bathroom, in all her glory. Wet faced and still wonderfully naked. Her skin is dark from the sun, but has a rosy glow.

My queen.

"Ma magnifique Reine!" I say, greeting my French monarch with a low curtsy and a reverent bow of my head - which makes her laugh.

She climbs back into bed, a surprisingly happy bounce to her movements. She is no longer groggy. Again, she reminds me of a naughty little girl. Much more like a frisky toddler than a frosty monarch.

"I like this!" she announces, patting her bare thighs and smiling at me.

"Being served breakfast in bed?" I ask, placing the tray over her legs. "Having a servant girl?"

"A beautiful servant girl!" she agrees.

Her bedhead tangle has been tamed into a loose bun, her face is moist and dewy - long thick lashes heavy and dark with drops of water. Her dark nipples stand out pink from her tan breasts. They are shiny and a bit swollen, jiggling happily as she shifts and positions herself to be served. Rather than lounging back against the pillows like a queen, she is sitting up straight, legs crossed, like a tantric goddess, her beautiful smooth pussy proudly on display.

She notices my attention but makes no move to cover herself as I place the tray over her lap.

Reaching out to touch the small tulip, its bloom still tightly closed, she smiles at me.

"I like my tulip," she says, pointedly stroking it, just like she had stroked the toy the night before. She laughs at my guilty look.

Looking away, and unwrapping her sandwich, I am relieved to see it's still warm.

I sit across from her, resting on my hip, and leaning on one hand. We talk and laugh while she eats, recounting funny moments from the day before, lines from the cabaret show, things Kip said or the Dougs did.

Claire wants to know all about my brunch with Helen.

I tell her that it was nice; that we talked about the funeral. She gives me a look, like I am holding back - she probably imagines flirty things. I know not telling Claire about the job offer is underhanded. But it's not as if I'd accepted a job in Amsterdam, all I did was say yes to meeting Helen's client for breakfast.

'So why do I feel so guilty?' I wonder, unable to look Claire in the eyes.

I ask if Claire is sore, admitting I am. She lets me change the subject, apologizing and moving the tray to the side so she can embrace me and smother me in damp kisses.

"I fucked you very hard," she says apologetically.

"And so long," I agree, pouting and whining playfully.

"So terribly long!" Claire agrees happily.

"Like a girl," I murmur.

"You made so many new sounds for me!" she laughs, making me blush. I start to protest, but she reaches and touches my cheek.

"My Little Deer liked her Bull

so

much," she coos with obvious pleasure, admitting her shoulders and back are sore.

"Fucking is

hard

work," she laughs. Reaching around to her lower back she says, "I feel bad now for complaining when men don't last longer!"

I offer to give her a back rub and she immediately agrees. I put the tray on the floor and got to the bathroom for oil. I reemerge to find Claire waiting for me, already stretched out on her belly, which makes me laugh.

"Are you going to fall back to sleep?" I ask as I push my shorts and panties off, and lift the little shirt over my head.

"Naked!" she delights.

"Well I don't want to get oil on your pretty clothes," I say as I crawl over her and straddle her ass.

"No, you mustn't..." she murmurs happily. "You've never given me a back rub," she moans as I smooth the oil over her back and shoulders. "This is a treat."

"My baby works so hard for me," I soothe as I squeeze the muscles at the base of her neck. "I need to keep her in fighting trim."

She groans as I begin massaging her flesh.

Danny always said I gave terrible back rubs, but he was so big, and wanted me to use so much force - it was exhausting, and I hated doing it, it was a chore. But Claire is entirely different. Her back is so narrow, her bones so beautifully fine. I'm actually careful to

not

use too much strength. Even so, I worry about bruising her, that I might push too hard. And most importantly, her pleasure is

immediate.

This is not a chore.

She moans happily as I knead the corded muscles of her neck, purrs like a cat as I work either side of her spine with my thumbs and groans loudly as I push and grind at her lower back with my knuckles.

And I find my pleasure mirrors hers. I like massaging Claire. It turns me on.

"What else did you talk about?" she asks, catching me off guard. My mouth is wet and my belly is hot.

"Sorry?" I sputter.

"Just the funeral?"

Claire is probing - she teases me about having a crush on Helen, but the teasing isn't entirely idle. Claire isn't jealous the way Danny was, she doesn't get angry and sulk, but she is possessive.

I think of how she had fucked me from behind, how her hips had slapped against my ass, one hand pulling me back by my hair, the other holding the small of my back, the things she called me. She told me I was

hers.

Fingering my asshole, she had vowed over my cries, "This ass is

mine."

Later, as we came together face to face, she told me,"Cette chatte m'appartient!"

My hands are wrapping Claire's waist now, I am riding high on the bubble of her bare ass pushing forward, over her ribs, and with enough force to make her grunt.

"OOF!"

I focus on her question.

"About dads and bosses?" I say.

I am squeezing her like a tube of toothpaste, forcing the breath from her lungs.

"MUHHH!"

"About my hair?" I continue.

"UghHHhh..." Claire groans as I mash her lats with the webbing of my thumbs.

"She really LIKES the red..." I huff, my voice constricting and releasing with my efforts. "Wanted to know why... NOW!"

"MMM!" Claire replies, as I use all my strength, crying, "AHH!" to my maximum effort.

I pull back, smoothing my hands back down her back, then sitting up straight to wipe the sweat from my lip with the back of my wrist.

"And?" Claire gasps with relief.

I'm going to leave marks if I go on like this. I'm working her too hard, my hands expressing my guilt.

"And... That I wanted to surprise you," I tell her, smoothing her flesh with fingertips and more gentle swipes of my palms. "But that, maybe it's something I always wanted to try?"

"My little ginger."

I roll my hips so my crotch bears down on her tailbone, mashing my clitoris. I rub her neck with one hand, holding her the way she had held me while she fucked me from behind. I think of the way The Bull felt inside me, how excited she had been to fuck me that way, pushing me off my hands and knees onto my belly, fucking me spread eagle, her hips riding my ass.

"What else?" Claire wants to know.

"She told me about growing up in rural England? About her first modeling jobs, her career. I told her about Amelia, Wes and Kelly..."

There is a long silence while I massage her back, finding spots that feel tight. Listening to her groans I suss out areas that she seems to like having rubbed a little deeper. My hands are at her hips, thumbs working the muscles at the base of her spine. I am resting on her thighs now. The rise of her perfect ass squeezed between my folded knees.

"That's all?" she asks finally.

Claire's arms are folded so she can rest her cheek on her stacked hands. I can see the side of her face, but her eyes are closed and her expression is relaxed, neutral. She doesn't seem annoyed or cross, but clearly isn't satisfied that I've told her everything. Is she prodding me this way because I'm transparent. Can she tell I am holding back, or is she just

sure

our conversation wasn't entirely innocent?

"And..." I started, knowing I should just come clean. "And, I asked Helen if she can see us this time of day?" I tell her, pushing my ass back further down her legs until I can lean forward and kiss her tailbone. "She said she can - very clearly."

"Is she watching my back rub?"

"I can't tell," I admit. The light makes it impossible to see into Helen's study at the moment.

"Is that why you are naked?"

"Should I put on a show?" I ask, rubbing the heavy muscles of her ass. "Would you like that?"

"Are you going to walk on my back like a geisha?"

I am going to lick her asshole. We've both known it from the instant I offered to rub her back.

Claire's ass cheeks feel powerful and dense in my hands. I think about how strong she was the night before; her endurance. She is taller than me, although we probably weigh the same, but she is so delicate, her bones are like a bird's And while her back is muscular, it's not at all like a man's; narrow and lean...

"I think I would crush you?"

"Mmmmm..." she groans happily, pushing her ass up into my hands. Her ass is beautifully round and smooth. "What kind of show does my Young Sarah want to put on, then?"

Leaning all the way over her, so my breasts brush the backs of her legs, so my mouth is near the crack of her ass, I whisper my secret into her flesh.

"I like when you make me."

My hands are working harder now, rubbing the great muscles of her ass with all my force. It's hard work, but I am happy to please Claire this way.

She surprises me by arching her back and flexing her legs. I move my hands back until I am holding her by the waist. She pushes her knees and breasts into the mattress, lifting her ass up, presenting.

"I can go again," she says happily, her voice muffled against the mattress.

'Greedy,

naughty little girl,' I think, smiling at the image of a young Claire demanding more.

"Je peux encore!" I imagine her piping.

But I also feel a building heat in my belly that is entirely adult.

Claire fucked me longer and harder than I ever imagined I could be fucked. She made me cum more and harder than I ever imagined. But The Bull had been in her too, she was fucked just as long and hard. If anything she came more than me. How is she not wrung out?

"I am in awe of your sex drive," I admit as I slide back further, taking my place behind her. "Your enormous...

capacity?"

"My capacity!" Claire laughs.

"Your appetite?" I try, laughing too, but lifting myself off one leg and then the other, allowing her to spread her legs wide for me, kneeling between Claire's feet. I am staring down at the most beautiful woman I've ever known. Her pale golden hair, square narrow shoulders, her sculpted back, pinched waist and muscular ass, her flexing thighs and open weeping sex. Her perfect pale asshole. My mouth is wet, I feel like I might explode. My insides are shaking. I will never get used to this.

"I love how

powerful

you are," I tell her in all seriousness. I am almost gasping

"Powerful?!"

She almost sounds outraged, turns her face so I can see the delight on her face.

"No one has ever called me

powerful

before!"

She sounds very pleased with herself.

I am stroking the outsides of her thighs. She is moving her knees further apart, bending them a bit, flexing her legs, positioning herself.

"You are

very

powerful," I assure her, thinking of her strength and endurance. "The most powerful lover I've ever had, have ever imagined."

"This is all because I fucked you like a girl?" she laughs.