Author's Note: This story contains reluctant sex and forced lesbianism.
***
The first thing I did after leaving Angela's office was call my manager at Starbucks and tell him I was sick, yet again. The hesitation before he replied let me know what was coming.
"Michelle, look, you are great when you are here, but you are just too unreliable. I know acting is your main focus, but I need employees that show up. I can't find people to cover your shifts last minute every other day!"
"I know, I've been a real jerk. Let me make this easy on you, I quit!"
It felt so good to say those words. After four years of being a barista, I'd dreamed of saying them one day when I had finally hit it big. Technically, I hadn't yet and was now officially unemployed to boot, but it still felt good.
Being unemployed sent a little shiver of fear down my spine. What if I got fired before the upcoming party and that ten thousand dollar paycheck didn't happen? Could I grovel my way back to being a barista? No, I'd cut the safety net now for good. If I messed up this gig, I'd be going home to live with my parents.
During the trip back to my apartment I'd managed to somehow clear my brain. My aching arousal had faded to a background level of horniness. I itched for relief, but was somewhat in control of myself again. That all went away when I opened my clutch inside my doorway and shockingly discovered Angela's thong still in there.
Okay, I knew it would be in there, but I acted shocked at seeing it again, I really did! I picked it up gingerly and crinkled my nose in disgust. I tried my best to be revolted at holding the soiled underwear of another woman in my fingers. Where was the trashcan? I planned on throwing them out immediately.
They were silk, however, and probably very expensive. Perhaps I should have them cleaned and appropriate them as my own? Was that what Angela wished when she gave them to me, for me to maybe even wear them to the party?
I started to move towards my hamper, but my nose caught a slight whiff of her scent on them. I was filled with revulsion suddenly, not at Angela's dirty knickers, but rather at my own reaction to her smell. I wasn't some panty sniffing weirdo! I shouldn't be getting excited at the fact that this bit of clothing had Angela's musky arousal still emanating from it.
I turned back towards the trash can.
Yet, I couldn't deny I was a bit aroused now as I studied the knickers again. They were so small, barely a wisp of cloth, and weighed almost nothing as I spun them in my fingers. Her scent rose up in the air as they twirled.
I turned back to the hamper.
The best thing would be to clean them of their offending odor and scrub Angela from my mind. The hamper was in my bedroom closet and I hesitated before throwing them in with my own dirty clothes. Was I was worried that her smell would taint my clothes, or was I concerned about the opposite... that her thong would lose its potency if mixed in with my smelly stuff?
One last sniff.
How perverted and weird was I? I brought her underwear to my face and inhaled again deeply, as I'd done earlier in Angela's office. Her scent was weaker now, the thong long dried out, but held so close to my nose her aroma still overwhelmed me. I felt my sex begin to tingle and heat up. Fuck this was embarrassing, even alone and by myself. How could my body be reacting this way to such a deviant act?
How had I gone from being a straight girl to a panty sniffing lesbian that enjoyed eating pussy in a couple hours? What the fuck was wrong with me?! All my arousal was roaring back and I knew I needed to cum, and right now. With a groan of defeat I threw the thong onto my bed and began stripping off my clothes with an eagerness I'd never felt to masturbate before. I kept my pumps on, replicating my look from Angela's office, and fumbled frantically in my bedside table for a vibrator, choosing the slim, six inch model that happened to be on top.
"You are such a dirty, perverted slut," I said to myself in a form of pep talk as I settled into my bed. I grabbed Angela's underwear and began to tease myself with it, dragging it along my suddenly sensitive skin, brushing it against my already hard nipples, and of course, draping it over my face at times to refresh my nose with her maddening scent. "You love her smell. You can't get enough of it, can you?"
My fingers started on my sex first, finding it hot, engorged, and already moist. Primed from my teasing performance in Angela's office, I found my hole eagerly swallowing two, and then three fingers. They splashed loudly in my folds as I began to weep nectar profusely from their furious pumping. Every time my palm brushed against my clit, I let out a gasp and twitched my hips. I had to be careful, I didn't want to come too soon.
"That's it, eat my pussy you dirty old bitch," I moaned out to the imaginary face of Angela that descended between my thighs. It was a pleasant thought, but more exciting was the vision I still had of her sex splayed before me. My mind began to retrace her anatomy, recreating a mental map of her sexual landscape that included all the valleys and ridges that my tongue had so lovingly explored earlier. And that map included her asshole, I realized with a surge of heat that threatened to make me want to cum.
