Author Note: Every aspect of this story is 100% fictional and all characters are 18+. It was written with the intent of entertaining those who enjoy the fantasy of non-consent sex. Some of the characters and situations would be ridiculous and disgusting if viewed through the lens of reality. Your sexual partners should ALWAYS be treated with respect even when, per their wishes, you're pretending not to.
One note on the story itself: You may notice that I like to leave my main characters in precarious predicaments. This is not done with the intention of eventually continuing the narrative as I have no plans to write any sequels or additional chapters. However, anyone else who would like to attempt to do so has my full blessing.
** Her Last First Lesbian Experience **
"Breath, just breath," Karen repeatedly told herself. Her hands gripped tightly to her BMW's steering wheel as if it would somehow keep her from falling out of the car and straight into Monica's house. Through her windshield, she stared intently at the small, white, single story home. She didn't know what she was hoping to see. Maybe for Monica to pull the curtains back to confirm she was at home? But Karen already knew that Monica was there because her crappy little Honda was parked right there in the street. No, Karen knew that she wasn't really waiting for anything. She was just nervous.
She shifted in her seat. The lingerie she wore underneath her dark green overcoat was a little tight. She had bought it almost four years prior in a last ditch attempt at physicality with her husband, Ben, before resigning to a sexless marriage. Some lacy blue panties with matching bra, garter belt and white stockings that, having bought them a size too small at the time, Karen was now practically spilling out of. Karen felt that the outfit accentuated her shoulder length dark hair and light blue eyes. She genuinely hoped that Monica liked it.
The irony of the situation was not lost on Karen. Any other time, she'd never give one shit what some 20-something who didn't have any money thought of her. In fact, Karen often wouldn't think twice about bringing a girl like Monica to tears if she wasn't getting the service she deserved at a shop or restaurant. But Monica was different. It wasn't just that she was a young, athletic, and sexy blonde - Karen knew that those were a dime a dozen in California. It was that Monica showed her interest and affection in a way that no one had in many years.
They had met less than a week prior when Ben needed Karen to take keys to one of his rental properties. She only agreed to do it because she was preparing to beg him to fund another solo trip to Aruba. When she arrived, the new renter was not waiting outside like she was supposed to be. Instead, she found Monica inside having broken in through the bathroom window.
The truth was, at first Karen had not been shy about the fact that she wasn't happy with Monica having let herself in. Monica apologized profusely. Eventually, she convinced Karen to come in for a cup of tea but one cup turned to many as they sat and talked for several hours.
Monica had given out many compliments about Karen's clothes and was shocked at her age, having thought Karen much younger. As they talked, her compliments became more and more specific. It pleased Karen that Monica noticed how fit she was - no one else ever did and those spin classes were not easy. It was when Monica leaned in to feel just how soft and bouncy Karen's hair was that they first kissed.
After that, they had made out on Monica's couch like teenagers; their bodies intertwined. Karen had never kissed another girl before but Monica's lips were soft and her hands racing across Karen's chest and teasing around her thighs just seemed right. Karen felt young and sexy for the first time in many years. She was reminded of a time when she was fun and daring. A time before Ben, marriage, motherhood and middle age.
Monica had finally pulled her young supple body away, much to Karen's regret. She explained that she was just feeling stressed and needed a chance to compose herself. That was when Monica talked a little about herself.
Monica was from Minnesota and, when she first got to LA, had found herself mixed up with some unsavory people. Karen was surprised (and, if she was being honest, a little turned on) to find out that Monica spent a short time in prison. But now she was out and trying to get her life back together. The problem was that the roommates she had lined up all bailed on her. She was still moving in but had no idea how she was going to pay the rent.
By this point, it had gotten late and Monica explained that she needed to finish unpacking. Before they parted ways, Karen promised that they'd get the rent situation figured out. Monica embraced Karen, rubbing her body against Karen's as she gave her a long deep kiss, and then whispered in her ear that she hoped that she would get to see much, much more of Karen when they next met.
The following few days had dragged on for Karen. Monica never seemed available to get together but her teasing texts kept Karen titillated until finally Monica agreed on a time for her to stop over.
It had been all Karen could think about but, now that she was there, she found herself frozen with anxiety. Would going through with this mean that she was now a lesbian? Was it wrong to lust after someone who was not that much older than her own son? What if the sex was awkward or unsatisfying because of her inexperience?
"Come on," Karen said aloud though she was alone in her car. "Don't be a stupid bitch!"
Karen willed herself to release the steering wheel and step out of the car. She wrapped the overcoat tightly around herself, the silky lining rubbing against her mostly bare body underneath, and tied the belt. As she approached the front door, the strappy stilettos that she had worn in the hopes of impressing Monica clicked with her every step. At each click she got closer to the house and, as she did, her anxiety rose up inside of her. She tried to focus on the thought of Monica's sweet tender mouth all over her body. It worked and, as the panic subsided, her pussy became more and more wet.
By the time she got to the red front door, Karen felt ready to burst. The doorbell chimed and Karen thought that she heard some shuffling and hushed voices. Unsure, she pushed the button again. There were another few moments of silence but eventually she heard Monica call for her to come in. Her voice sounded shaky and broken.
Karen cracked the door and stuck her head in. It opened to the small living room where Monica was sitting on a couch with a flower pattern, the same one that they had explored each other's bodies on previously. She wore yellow and white striped panties and a faded green t-shirt with a pickle on it. The shirt was stretched tight and Monica's small, hard nipples pressed against it.
The sight would have turned her on if not for Monica's concerning body language. Her cute, short blonde pixie hair was disheveled and her eyes downcast. Monica's left eye was swollen and a little bit of blood sat on her lower lip. Karen felt motherly instincts rise up inside her and quickly entered the house.
"Holy shit, Mon. Are you-"
As the door slammed behind her, someone unseen painfully grabbed a handful of Karen's hair and used it to fling her against the far wall. She slammed up against it with an "umph!" Karen spun around but, when she did, her overcoat became undone revealing the sexy lingerie she wore underneath.
Blocking the door was one of the biggest women that Karen had ever seen. She was tall and stocky like a powerful man might be and her plain brown hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. She wore a men's red flannel shirt that her thick arms strained. It was unbuttoned allowing Karen to clearly see the orange prison jumpsuit underneath. On the woman's face was the clear expression of anger.
"Oh, I see how it fucking is!" the large woman spoke to Monica. "I'm breaking out just so you don't have to wait 28 more months for me but you don't care. You already got Miss Thing here licking your clit!" Monica remained motionless on the couch.
"No! We never-" Karen was again cut short. Faster than she'd have thought possible, the large woman had crossed to her and had Karen's throat in her meaty hand. Karen held onto her wrist with both hands but knew immediately that she didn't have the strength to pull free.
"Don't you fucking tell me what I know! Ain't no one dressing like this to sell makeup door to door. Here, let's see..."
With her free hand, the woman yanked Karen's overcoat down past her shoulders. Docilely, Karen released the strong wrist and let the coat slide down her arms and onto the floor. Her sexy outfit was now fully exposed. To Karen's great shock the woman then jammed her hand down into her lacy blue panties and then ran a thick finger up and down her pussy slit all while she stared unblinking into Karen's eyes. Involuntarily, Karen squeaked out, "hrmm" but pursed her lips tightly to avoid any further noises. After a moment, the woman pulled her hand out and licked her finger then shoved it into Karen's mouth so she could taste her own juices.
"Fuck, girl. You're as smooth a silk down there and wet enough to drown a kitten!" Her tone was now almost playful. She then nodded towards Monica. "Now I know that my little bitch here can suck the hell out of a puss. Learned that in cell 113, didn't you?" She addressed Monica but she didn't reply and continued to remain almost perfectly still.
"Yeah you did. But you," she turned back to Karen. "For this sweet thing to pick some old ass mommy bitch over me, well you must be a pussy master."
