One Piece Of Pussy

Author's notes:

Note 1 - All characters in this story are 18 years of age, or older.

Note 2 - IMPORTANT!!! This story starts... with an actual story. So, if you crave a bit of sapphic tension to get your blood moving, start at the beginning. If you're trying to nut off, start in the middle.

Note 3 - A lot of the following is true, true enough that I've really enjoyed this stroll down memory lane. With my hand up my dress.

Hope you get that O,

Elysia

-- -- --

Mark Gibbly sat across the picnic table from us pushing his skater hair back from his eyes. He must have done this a hundred times in that ten-minute stretch, and it always fell right back in. Maggie was smoking and picking at her fishnets. Me? I was holding my copy of The Dragonlance Chronicles to my boobs like a shield. Maggie had convinced me to wear a white crop top with suspenders instead of a bra. There might as well have been holes cut for my nips, all the good my shirt did hiding them.

The summer after senior year was pretty wild. Most of my friends calmed down by the time we graduated, and in the summer settled into work and preparation for college. I had been a goody-goody all through high school. At my wildest, I let my long distance boyfriend suck on my tits in his backseat and had one or two sips of mom's cooking sherry. Now, with two months to go until I jetted off to a prominent engineering college, I was panicked that I hadn't made more than three core memories. My yearbook was full of have-a-great-summers and phone numbers... I should mention I had turned pretty shortly after my 18th birthday, and I was being hit on so aggressively that I'd taken introversion to a new level.

Of all the numbers I received, Maggie Weatherby's phone number was the only one I called, and I'll tell you why. Maggie had NOT settled. She was just as goth at graduation as she had been since middle school. She was smart, too. Devil horns and an wagging tongue closed her salutatorian speech to tumultuous applause from the graduates and polite palm tapping from the adults.

I don't know why she gave me her phone number. "Summers are boring. Wanna hang out? Call me." I wasn't on her radar. I was on no one's radar as anything other than a rack and an ass. The comments I received at school pretty much assured that. When Maggie offered to hang, the call of adventure was shrill in my ears.

So there we were, middle of July, afternoon sun deepening Mark's farmer tan, and Maggie still looked bored. I'm sure I was a disappointment to her. Yet, Maggie was still hanging out with me, even though I'd declined to participate in most of the things she wanted to do. Most of her ideas sounded more like jail time than a good time, but I didn't mind being near her when she did crazy shit. Maybe she just wanted the audience to carry her stories into the world. (Sometime, I should tell you about the convenience store grift of early June.)

Maggie cut Mark's story right down the middle. "Dude, I'm losing wood. No one gives a shit about aggressive skate wheels. You said you had intel on the thing."

"You said you'd..." Mark's words fizzled out as he glanced at me.

Maggie rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to go down on you if the details don't turn out. If I get mine, then you get yours."

If I could have willed the blood out of my cheeks, I would have, but I'm sure I was red from ear to ear.

Mark cleared his throat. "Alright, so I didn't check it myself, but Dan Kraditz's older brother swears it's real, and that guy has smuggled blow in his asshole before."

Maggie groaned. "How is this even relevant?"

"He has no reason to lie about this, is all I'm saying."

"So? Where is it?"

"Um," I said, lifting a hand. "What are we talking about?" Usually I keep my mouth shut and let Maggie's deals run their course, but I was getting stir crazy without context.

Mark looked at me with narrowed eyes and then looked at Maggie. "Is she cool?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Mark!" shouted Maggie, swinging her leg over the bench. She was on her feet in a second. "Of course she's fucking cool? Would I hang with a loser? Look at her tits! Do losers have tits like that? If you don't know anything, just say so and stop wasting everyone's fucking time!"

"Alright! Alright. Whatever, this farmer dude has all the land between the cemetery and Middle Road, and it's out there in the middle."

Maggie took a drag on her cigarette and threw it onto the pavement as she sat back down. "Catholic?"

"What?"

"The cemetery, dude."

"Presbyterian," he said. "I think. I don't fucking know! It's the big one up by the machine shop. With the little dead people houses."

"Mausoleums," I said.

Mark's brows knit together, and Maggie smirked at me. "Yeah, that's the one. Okay, all that land back there is like, a dozen football fields and a whole lot of trees, so you gotta do better than 'in the middle somewhere'."

"Take the railroad tracks up to the creek, then follow the creek up through the corn. Dan's brother said it's along the tree line, if it hasn't collapsed yet."

"Perfect," said Maggie standing. She grabbed my hand to help me up, and I nearly fumbled my shield, I mean book.

"Hey!" said Mark. "When are you going out there?"

"Why do you care?" asked Maggie.

"Well, when am I going to get my... you know?"

"Oh right," said Maggie. "Do you have a pussy?"

"Fuck no," said Mark. "I gotta dick, a huge one. Er, a reasonable one."

"Aw, that's too bad," said Maggie. "I only go down on pussy. I thought I was pretty clear about that."

"What the fuck, Weatherby!" said Mark, climbing up and over the table. He was lanky, but he was shredded and towering over us. It was a bit intimidating. "I did all the work. What am I gonna get out of this?"

Maggie held up her pack of cigs. "You smoke?"

"One of you bitches had better suck my cock." At this, Mark knocked the book out of my hand. "Or I'm gonna..."

He didn't finish. Maggie cracked her knuckles, wound up, and in rapid succession jabbed Mark Gibly in the throat and then the nose. The blood spurt made me light-headed.

"How about this?" said Maggie as Mark stumbled and moaned and cried. "As payment, I won't tell anyone how you broke your fucking nose."

"Fuck you!" Mark shouted into his hands, blood pouring down his skate or die shirt. "Fucking bitch! Whore bitch! Cock tease cunt!"

"Your creativity is noted," said Maggie. She picked up my book, handed it back to me, and curled my arm into hers. "Come on."

"Shouldn't we like... call an ambulance or something?"

"What?" said Maggie, tugging me away from the baseball complex and toward her beat up Lincoln in the parking lot. "He looks better now. And he can tell everyone it was a skating accident. His friends will eat that shit up. That's the real payment here."

"But like," I said, "where are we going? What's special about an old barn?"

Maggie stopped and looked me in the eye. "If I tell you, you're going to chicken out. Do you want to have an adventure that won't hurt anyone with minimal chance of being arrested?"

"Define minimal."

"Trust me," she said. "Do you trust me?"

My eyes narrowed, but I smiled anyway.

-- -- --

We stopped back at the house for bottle waters - Maggie pounded two - and Lunchables, and I changed into a plain teeshirt (with a bra) and soccer shorts and from my thong sandals into cross trainers. Maggie was good in her Converse All-stars, fishnets, short skirt, and black button-up. She looked hot. No, like, temperature hot. But her black lipstick and eye makeup might as well be on at midnight for all she seemed affected by the July sun.

We parked up near the older headstones where no one visits and made our way down along the ornate iron fence to where the train tracks crossed the drive into the cemetery. From there, the ballast crunched underfoot as we headed away from civilization.

"You got me out here," I said.

"Yeah?"

"So?" I said. "What's special about the barn?"

Maggie's mouth quirked at one corner, her cute little dimple making an appearance. "Do you like pirates?"

"If you don't want to answer the question..."

"Seriously," she said, hopping onto the nearest rail and maintaining effortless balance. "What's the best thing about pirates?" Her black-nailed hands folded at the small of her back, just above her pert ass.

"The sea is their mistress," I said.

"Ew! No!" shouted Maggie. "They fuck the whores in port, and the sea is a slut. The best thing about pirates is their fucking treasure! Say you understand!"

I giggle and immediately regret it. When Maggie gets worked up, the flutter in my tummy makes it hard not to find her adorable. This is not ideal when she's trying to appear fierce. Or breaking some asshole's nose. I straighten my expression and clear my throat. "The best thing about pirates is treasure."

"I'm glad you think so, I quite agree. Now, the thing people don't consider about pirates is, the successful ones began to amass riches, but they're fucking pirates, so they don't have any place to cash in. They just keep getting richer and can't do shit with it. And it wasn't abnormal for captains to pass on their hoard after their deaths, generation to generation to generation to generation..."

"Didn't pirates really do their thing from 1650 for like... another 75, 80 years?"

"Dude."

"I'm just saying, how many generations could there have been?"

"You're killing my story, you fucking nerd."

"Said the Salutatorian."

To which Maggie glared at me.

"I apologize," I said. "Please resume."

"So like... pirates added to their hoard by passing their maps on to the next pirate they'd chosen, and that captain would add to the hoard, and then that captain would pass on the map and so on. You still with me?"

"Never left."

"Right, so in our town, there is a legend of our very own pirate hoard. One guy is chosen and given the details to find the hoard. He may partake of the hoard as much as he wishes with the understanding that he'll add to it if possible and he'll pass it on to another caretaker after he graduates."

"How do you know all this?"

"Please," she scoffed. But she volunteered nothing else.

"So the boys of this town, this dumpy nothing town, have been maintaining a treasure hoard in an old barn for...?"

"A very long time," said Maggie, nodding sagely. "What else is there to do? Eating, sleeping, and fucking gets boring after a while. Well, maybe not the fucking. But fucking the dudes around HERE is boring. You'd think they'd never seen a clit before."

A lot of our conversations leaned toward sex. That gave me a different feeling entirely. A pressure in my chest. Which led almost immediately to a pressure in my pussy. I wasn't into girls or anything. But like, it was difficult not to look at Maggie's lips when she started talking like this. Soft, bee-stung lips that boys were heard to say were perfect for dick sucking. I wondered... what about just... kissing?

"What are you looking at?" she said.

My eyes darted away from Maggie's mouth. "What kind of treasure are we talking about anyway?"

"What kind of treasure do you think a bunch of horny teenage boys would pass on to each other?"

Oh.

THAT kind of treasure.

"Here's the creek," said Maggie. "Should be up here and then we'll see it."

Sure enough, another ten minutes and we were approaching a gray, weathered structure that perhaps could have once been described as a barn. Sagging in the middle with a collapsed adjacent structure, there we no doors to speak of, and the orange light of summer evening did nothing to brighten its pallor.

I followed Maggie, but she held me back at the door. "Let me go in first," she said. "If it's safe, I'll call you in."

"What if you get hurt?" I asked. "Or like, the roof collapses?"

"Then you can go for help."

"I'm just saying, if you think it's so dangerous we can't go in together, why go in at all?"

Maggie put a hand on my cheek, and my breath quickened. "You're very sweet. But I'll be fine. Not even Hell wants me."

"I thought everyone wanted you," I said, my heart thundering at words I realized in that moment I meant whole-heartedly.

She bit her shiny black lip with a half grin and popped an eyebrow. "Everyone?"

I swallowed.

Her smile never left as she turned toward the barn interior and passed into shadow. I stepped to the threshold so my eyes could adjust, and I watched her navigate a sea of detritus that may have once been farm equipment. Quickly, she reached a small island of dirt at the rear of the barn and disappeared behind an obstruction.

"Yo ho ho!" Maggie shouted. "It's not even buried!"

I didn't wait for her summons and was halfway to her by the time she cleared me to enter. On a wooden crate so sturdy it had to be a recent addition, Maggie had placed an aluminum box. To her right, the hole in the dirt where she had retrieve it.

"You want to do the honors?" she said.

"What if it's booby-trapped?" I asked.

"There's gonna be boobies, alright," she grinned before ignoring her own suggestion and opening the box.

The smell was that of an old, musty basement, but the inside of the box wasn't terribly dirty or tarnished. Maggie reached inside and pulled out a small stack of magazines, so worn and water-damaged that I could hardly make out the Penthouse logo on the cover. Everything else was lost to what I assumed was the neglect of teenage boys.

Maggie peeled the top magazine from the stack and handed it to me with blazing eyes. "Have you ever seen a porn mag?"

Taking her pulp offering as if it were going to bite me at any moment, I shook my head.

"The cocks are huge, and all the pussies are bald. Unless you get one from the 80s, and then the pussies are like jungles of hair." She tapped her chin and said with whimsy, "I honestly don't know which I prefer. Well. Probably bald, if you held a gun to my head."

I reflexively squeezed my thighs together, thoughts drawn to my hairy muff. But my attention was largely on the bit of treasure in my hands. It felt like a piece of abused cardboard. Maggie started peeling at the cover of the next mag in her stack, and I followed suit.

It took a few crunchy attempts to get a page to come apart, and a few more to get one that was discernible. What I did see eventually was a nude woman strapped to a chrome chair, her legs in stirrups and spread, her very bald pussy perfectly petalled and glossy at her vagina. The two women on either side of her were dressed in science fiction inspired silver sheath dresses, breasts hanging out, nipples erect, perfect bald pussies little more than delicate slits below their hems. Each one had a beam gun in hand, guns that were clearly vibrators.

I felt myself getting wet. I had been feeling something for a while, but now I felt like squirming.

In the next frame, one of the captors had shoved the vibrator gun into the captive who was moaning with pleasure. The captor operating the vibrator gun puckered her lips in an oooo face, and the other captor was pinching the captive's nipples. My hand was close to my own nipples, and if I hadn't been wearing the bra, I might have pinched one. My skin felt charged, flushed, sensitive. I was vaguely aware of Maggie's scowl.

In the next frame, I couldn't see most of what was happening, but I saw a tongue pressed to the clit of the captive... and that was it... that's all I could think about. I couldn't turn another page. I just kept looking at that woman's clit... wishing it were mine. Looking at the other woman's tongue... wishing it were mine. I'd smelled myself before. It wasn't like... amazing. But the thought of smelling a pussy that wasn't mine... something about that made my body hum. And I was pretty certain if I'd taken my panties off at that moment, it would look like I'd peed a little.

"What the fuck," hissed Maggie.

Carefully, I closed the magazine. "You okay?"

"There's hardly anything here!" said Maggie. "All these magazines, and they're glued together with dried cum."

I dropped the magazine from my hands immediately and wiped my palms aggressively on my shorts. "Shut up."

"Fucking dudes," cursed Maggie. Her black lips pursed, and she shook her head. "How are yours?"

"Alien lesbians. But mostly, same."

"Oooo!" Maggie's eyes lit up, and she swiped the magazine out of the dirt. The page I was looking at was one of the few that weren't stuck together, so she found the spread quickly. (Heh heh). "Ugh, that's fucking hot. Have you ever wondered what pussy tastes like?"

My cheeks were on fire as I said, "Well... uh... I know what mine..."

A slow smile spread across Maggie's face. "Why you dirty... little... slut."

My stammer was practically indignant. "Y-you telling me you've never?"

"Of course I have!" she said. "But I've also tasted a number of other pussies, and I can say with authority that I'm a huge fan. What? I told you I only went down on pussy."

"I...," Oh god oh god oh god, "thought you just didn't want to blow Mark."

"One hundred percent I didn't want to blow Mark. But I've gone down on boys and girls, and girls are far, far preferred." She takes a step toward me. "Tasted myself plenty of times. And do you know when I taste the best?"

My breathing was shallow, my heart beating in my temples. I shook my head almost imperceptibly.

"When I'm licking myself out of the mouth of another girl."

Jesusfuckingchrist.

"You know what we should do!" Maggie said, straightening so fast I nearly fell backward. "Fucking boys cumming all over these, like their fucking guest book signatures. WE should cum on them, too."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"It's our right! We kind of have to. We found the hoard, though it's pretty much all one piece at this point. It's only appropriate that we cum on it. This page." Maggie pointed at the science fiction women. "We need to cum on this page."

"But like... how do we..."

"Squirt. Do you not squirt?"

I blinked. How were we even talking about this?! "I... don't know."

"Not everyone does but... like... You don't know... or you've never had an orgasm?"

"I'm... but... well... I'm not sure."

The look of the devil crossed Maggie's face. "Elysia. Ann. Staccato. Have you never masturbated before?"

"I've washed pretty aggressively in the shower."

Maggie's mouth fell open with gleeful surprise. "Oh, we need to fix that. And what better occasion?"

I startled. "Here? Now?!"

Maggie dropped the magazine to the ground in a puff of dirt, and she worked her hands under her skirt. Her eyes never leaving mine, mine never leaving hers and too petrified to look elsewhere, Maggie's fishnets came down hooked by her thumbs. Then a black thong. She straddled her legs and squatted.

"Aren't you going to look?" she said, smirking. "You want to. Just look."

Like pulling a spoon from cool molasses, my eyes shifted to behold Maggie's open, furry cunt. That's the first thing I noticed, all the black, thick hair. My own pubic hair was much finer and thinner, but then I was turning sun blonde and had bright blue eyes. Maggie's hair was chocolate brown and her eyes darker still. Her dark pubic hair seemed consistent. But below her thatch, it looked like she'd shaved. What I noticed next was how puffy and fat her vulva was. An incredible mound, I wanted to pet and cup and... sniff.

And lick. And taste. And suck.

That was gross, right? What if she tasted like sweat and piss?

Well, what if it did? That was part of it, right? People still ate pussy.

She was squatting over the mag, petting herself, staring at me... watching me watching her. Her fingers slowly splayed her thick, meaty lips, dark and flushed with arousal. She motioned me closer with her index finger. "Magazines can fuck off. Come get a closer look at real cunt. Kneel right here."

"In the... dirt?"