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.
