This series is a companion to my story Truth & Admiration. Heads up for those who like their Lesbian Sex uncut: in addition to lesbian sex, this particular story in the series involves a description of intercourse between a man and a woman, as well as other sex acts that might not please LS purists (see tags).
Additionally, Leethie is toxic and uses toxic language.
My intent is not to offend, but this is a d/s lesbian romance with strong themes of nonconsent and reluctance. If that's not your cup of tea, I understand and hope you will find another story to enjoy.
As always I hope you will enjoy the story, and that if you do you will leave a comment.
XOSNS
The Guy
Leethie's father had arranged a good job for her at a small consumer computer start-up he'd invested in. He'd been excited for her, telling her repeatedly on their drive home what a great opportunity it was, and that he was sure the company was going to be a "big fucking deal." She had wanted to take some more time off and chafed at the idea of just going straight to work, of being surrounded by nerds, but the job started right away and her father insisted.
She'd been relieved that the offices, which - despite a Holstein design motif - were sleek and modern - and that her coworkers - who were young and good looking - weren't anything like what she'd imagined. And as it turned out, she liked the work and did well there.
Her starting salary was enough that she could afford a small garden apartment studio near downtown. Her parents helped her out, with the security deposit, moving her in, and kitting it out. But, for the first few weeks especially, she was back home every weekend.
Pulling in on a Friday after work for dinner, she found her parents still out on the patio.
"The laundry truck has arrived!" her father bellowed, saluting her with his tumbler.
"Stop it, Daddy!" Leethie insisted with a smile, dropping her laundry bag by an empty chair.
Her mother laughed and held up a small padded envelope and waved it happily. It was from Miranda. Leethie clapped her hands and grabbed the envelope. In it was, a mixed tape, a letter, coffee beans, a dozen or so tiny plastic Shriners, and a small stack of pictures of Leethie and Miranda from graduation - but also from before. There was a picture of Leethie hitchhiking in France she had never seen. She had looked through them quickly then handed them to her mom and read the letter.
The note said that Miranda was moving to the Pacific Northwest and that she was driving out with Thom. They were driving cross country in his VW van and were going to camp and visit national parks on the way. She was going to get a place in the city. He was going to study wooden boat building across the water on the peninsula. Leethie felt as if she had been slapped.
"Oh, this is a lovely picture. Who's that boy?" Her mother asked with exaggerated interest, holding the picture out for Leethie and her father to see. "He's very handsome."
Miranda was smiling, her lips painted red and glossy. Leethie was laughing at something, her mouth open and eyes closed. The Guy was standing between them. Head stooped a bit, his foppish hair falling over his half-closed eyes. It was a good picture of him. She felt sick.
"I don't like him," her father announced, making her mother laugh. It's what he always said about boys.
"Him?" Leethie said feigning disinterest. "I don't know, just some guy."
The Guy had been tall and painfully thin but had been good-looking in a nerdy mop-top way. Leethie had spent the night getting his name wrong - Dave or Dan or Richard or something - but he'd been in one of one Miranda's classes and she seemed to like him, and he'd stuck to them all night. Sometime towards the end of the evening, Leethie had decided to fuck him.
Miranda had gotten dressed up that night, a tight top and torn loose jeans, worn low on her hips with a heavy leather belt. She'd put her hair in barrettes and let Leethie do her makeup. She had done Miranda's eyes dark, with a lot of mascara because she knew she liked them like that. She had done her lips with a bright red lipstick, Miranda had complained, but Leethie had insisted because she liked them like that. When she was done, Leethie thought she'd looked slutty and told her so, they had both laughed.
Miranda had seemed to have fun that night, and they were all drunk and talking fast over each other by the end, but Miranda had gone quiet after Leethie invited Dan/ave/ick back to their place.
"Come on Guy," she'd told him, "walk us home."
It wasn't the first time Leethie had brought a guy home, and she knew it made Miranda jealous but didn't care. Just because she let Miranda lick her cunt didn't make it mean anything, and she liked reminding her of that.
She remembered feeling giddy and laughing on the way back to the studio. She had enjoyed the hungry looks the guy had been giving her. He had grabbed at her a couple times; she didn't stop him. But out of the corner of her eye, she had been paying more attention to Miranda, who had walked on her other side but had been sullen and withdrawn.
Leethie was feeling very drunk by the time they got home; had started undressing in the hall while Miranda worked to unlock their door. The guy had whispered something about a threesome into her ear as he watched her taking off her bra. She had already thrown her shirt over his head, but he was peeking out from under it, trying to look sexy.
"I'm not into that dyke shit," She'd told him, throwing her bra over his shoulder and laughing as she started working at her fly. Miranda had been hunched and looking down at her keys and the lock. She had looked physically diminished; like she had shrunk on their walk home.
Miranda got the door open and disappeared into the bathroom. Leethie, topless and pants pushed halfway down over her ass, had pulled Dan-or-whatever into her 'room' and helped him strip. Fast clumsy drunken pulling at belts, hungry jerking at t-shirt and jeans. She had seen Miranda crossing back to her side of the studio. Miranda had glanced in to see Leethie holding his long stiff erection in her hand. Leethie had smiled at her and stroked his cock, and felt a spike of heat as Miranda's eyes dropped to her pumping hand before she disappeared behind the screen.
He'd tried to kiss her, but she had pushed him, knocking him to the bed with his pants still around his ankles and his boots on. Climbing over him and straddling his chest she had stood on her knees, her pussy pushed forward.
"Fuuuuck," he'd groaned, staring at her bald pussy.
"Kiss it!" She told him, barking the order and laughing at the surprised look on his face. He probably couldn't believe his luck, but was clearly out of his depth. She could tell nothing like this had ever happened to him. He had looked her in the eyes like some sort of Romeo as he raised himself up on his elbows, pursed his lips, and kissed her pussy.
"Don't be a fucking fag," she'd sneered as she took him by the hair and mashed herself against him, rolling her hips and riding his closed mouth.
"MmmmMmmmmMMm," he'd moaned; still staring up at her, but not like some big Romeo anymore.
"Eat my pussy or I'm not fucking you," she'd told him dryly.
There was a long moment when she thought he might rebel. His eyes had burned, suddenly not looking so drunk. She thought he might push her off him, but then his mouth had opened and his tongue had licked her length. It was her turn to moan. She made no attempt to be quiet.
He'd pushed his arms between her legs and reached around to take hold of her ass. She rode him that way, her knees spread wide, grinding and humping his face while he jabbed and sucked. Finally losing patience with his random attempts, she pulled his lips to her clit.
"Just suck that like it was a little cock," she instructed with motherly warmth, but still holding him there by the hair. With her other hand, she reached back and took his cock in her hand. It was long and smooth and thin-skinned. Her palm felt cool and dry as she stroked him, her fingers loose and playful. He moaned loudly, rumbling against her clit. "Mmmm, good boy. Does that feel good?"
"MmmMMmm," he looked at her longingly. She let go of his hair and smoothed her hand over her belly, hefting her breast and squeezing it. She shook out her hair, knowing exactly what he was seeing. She could feel the effect she was having on him; his cock throbbing in her hand.
'His fucking wettest dream," she'd thought, picturing him hunched over and furiously masturbating about her.
"Suck me off and I'll let you cum in me," she promised. His cock had jumped in her hand as she did. "Oh, you like that?" She ringed him with her finger and thumb, gently moving them up and down over the mushroom-shaped head of his cock. He sucked hard.
"That's right," she cooed, moving her hand faster, "just like you'd suck a dick."
He didn't care. He sucked and polished her clit with his tongue like it was his job. She imagined Miranda next to them, laying on her side, facing the wall jealously listening to him suck and slobber. She pictured Miranda desperately fingering her wet little cunt, trying to be as quiet as she could. As Leethie felt an orgasm beginning to build she stifled her moans and even tried to quiet her breath, listened for any sound from the other side of the screen. All she could hear was the guy's messy gobbling and finally, she couldn't be still any longer and started to moan and thrash.
She let go of his cock and held her breasts with both hands, rolling and pinching her nipples, knowing how much both he and Miranda were getting off on her, but then her thoughts crashed and she'd no longer cared about what they were thinking; didn't care about anything but the pleasure threatening to rip her belly open.
She was panting, her hands against the wall, supporting her. He was smiling up from between her thighs, looking proud of himself.
"Good job sport," she told him, but her voice was windy and soft. She brought a hand down to his mouth. His face was wet and red. She smeared her fingers over his lips and chin, then put them in his mouth, letting him suck them clean. She stroked his cheeks again. They were soft and smooth. "You're a careful shaver, I like that."
She climbed back over his arms until she was straddling his waist. She pushed her fingers back into his mouth as she reached back and took his cock in her free hand, but this time rather than play with it she eased herself back, guiding him in. He sucked breath sharply as she pressed his head against her lips; held herself there, hovering, moving his fat glans back and forth, wetting it.
"You have a nice cock," she told him. He tried to say something but she put another finger in his mouth and pressed them against his tongue, her thumb under his chin. "Keep sucking."
She held him by the jaw that way as she'd lowered herself slowly onto him dropping a bit and climbing, then dropping a little further. He mewed and whinged happily until she'd squeezed his harder, pinching his tongue against the soft tissue below, silencing him. She thought she'd heard Miranda. A gasp? Was she cumming? She took her fingers out of his mouth and leaned over him, her hands on the mattress and her hair draping their faces. Their mingled breath smelled of cheap whiskey. He was looking up at her, but had taken the hint, and wasn't trying to talk.
She closed her eyes and began to move up and down in long smooth strokes, still listening. He had grabbed the flesh of her hips and was lifting and dropping her. She thought she heard Miranda again. A hitch sound. Was she crying? The idea of Miranda weeping and pining for her on the other side of the screen was almost as much a turn-on as the idea of her frantically masturbating.
