Depravity and Corruption

1. ~Not a Single Care In the World~

Slack-jawed, wide-eyed, and more than a little tipsy, Sydney sat on a stool in the festively decorated bar, listening to her new friend intently. The greens and reds of Christmas-season were an odd backdrop to their conversation.

Heather spoke in a silky, deep and musical voice. It had the clear enunciation and the timbre of a person born to be heard. She should be a lawyer or politician; generally anything where one needs to make people pliable. Sydney certainly felt like putty while listening to her speak.

But her wonderful voice was saying things you wouldn't expect out of this description. They weren't exactly ponderous ideas of her philosophical musings. No. She spoke of vividly torrid, rapturous things.

Heather was rattling off a list of kinks she'd enjoyed, recounting her colourfully detailed experiences, and describing some peculiarities of the human anatomy which Sydney had thought were dreamt up by the pornography industry.

By now, every story she told was already past the threshold of moral ambiguity and went well-beyond socially unacceptable. You shouldn't say such things in public. The language she used was so casual in its eroticism, that the professional quality of her voice seemed so out of place.

It was making Sydney blush, and her blood run quick. She'd never heard someone speak so candidly about sex in all her 34 years of life. At first, she had been so embarrassment hearing these things, that she kept looking over her shoulder, like a defenseless creature cautiously drinking from crocodile-infested waters, who needed to be quick to escape at the slightest sign of danger.

It didn't take long for Heather to enthrall her, though. Now, Sydney was totally captive to what she was hearing. The new friend reddening her cheeks was devilishly crude and, because of this, Heather was entirely alien to her: a woman completely uninhibited by social mores and altogether unshackled from the concept of shame.

Sydney had been raised in a very open and nurturing environment, where a dirty joke was welcomed by all, and the occasional slip of the tongue or mishandling propriety was forgiven as a purely human occurrence. But this candidness was positively humbling to her. She thought herself confident, open-minded and even a little risqué, but the sensual redhead made her look like a Victorian prude by comparison.

As Heather described her sex life, her audience of one thought that, to this strange, alabaster-skinned creature, hedonism seemed like a basic tenet of life; Public sex or BDSM were a basic expectation; role-playing was an artform to be mastered, not something to be used to shake things up once in a while; things like threesomes, anal sex, and double penetration were aperitifs for this woman. In essence, she was an insatiable connoisseur of the pleasures of the flesh, and Heather flaunted her expertise with a passion as fiery as her straight, dark-red hair.

People were starting to take notice, giving them dirty looks and shaking their heads in disapproval. Neither of the women noticed, including Sydney who was no longer aware of her surroundings. Heather sat in front of her with her head held high, back straight, chest out and proudly proclaiming herself a ‘total slut’.

Sydney simply continued to listen and stare incredulously into Heather's green eyes as the woman finished another story, which had begun with describing a prolonged tryst she had enjoyed with her current boyfriend’s parents over the summer.

The poor guy knew they had an open relationship, and presumably enjoyed his own fun on the side. Heather wouldn't know. She described herself as a 'relationship anarchist'. So, obviously, her boyfriend might benefit from that depending on how charming he could be.

But he also had no idea that, over an entire weekend, his girlfriend had been taken every which way by his dad while she alternated between being lovingly eaten out by his mother and enjoying the taste of older woman’s pussy.

“…oh yeah…” Heather continues with an afterthought “and an impregnation fetish. OH, GOD! Those are fun nights, especially with strangers or... uh, authority figures. Like my old college professor!" she giggled. It was a surreally innocent sound considering the subject.

"I usually work it in right at the end of the first round, when he’s about to cum. The way I see it, either he freaks out and leaves right after, or he’s into it and we keep going all night.” That one struck a chord. Sydney speaks up, so overwhelmed by curiosity that she risks asking for more details.

“Oh my god… how do you even?.. How do you even approach that in the middle of sex?!” she asks, her sex-drive beginning to overtake all common sense. She shouldn’t be encouraging this girl. They’d only met a couple of hours ago, and she was obviously outside the norm of people Sydney usually associated with. She was probably outside the norm in general. What kind of social circles does someone like this even become a part of? Certainly none which Sydney involves herself with.

“I ask him to come inside me. Well… asking is putting it mildly. I beg. The guys I attract seem to get off on that. Maybe that's just men in general. But I figured out pretty quick that it comes from the animal side. So I now I lean into it and, after I beg him, I tell him I’m coming too. That gets them over the finish line, and as they’re about to burst I just say… ahem.”

She clears her throat as if preparing for a performance. She gives one, and loudly at that.

“YES! YES! PUT A BABY IN ME! KNOCK ME UP, PLE-EEEASE!” she finishes by drawing out the final word with a crescendo culminating in a squeal. Her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her brow furrows and she grits her teeth as if she's pulling off a band-aid or, more to the point, as if she's having an orgasm.

Heather is positively Oscar-worthy and she bursts out laughing at the end. Sydney raises a hand to her mouth, mostly to cover the smile that’s dismantling any façade of shocked expression. Sydney could only pretend she was offending her sensibilities. In fact, Heather was positively changing those sensibilities with every lurid sentence she spoke.

“OH! MY! GOD! HEATHER! WHAT! THE! FUCK!” Sydney punctuates every word with feigned indignance. The libations have her completely uninhibited, but the feeling of having her boundaries pushed, bent and broken like this was more intoxicating than the alcohol. She joins Heather in explosive laughter. They don’t notice the barkeep waiting for their attention.

“Ladies.” He says, arresting their rambunctiousness for a moment. “Sorry to say this but you need to leave. You’re upsetting my customers.” He says, eyebrows raised, implying his impatient frustration that these grown women should have more self-awareness. Perhaps they should.

As they turn around, they see that most of the bar is staring daggers directly at them, with the odd smile or leer thrown into the mix. Heather and Sydney break out in more laughter, and they giggle all the way through paying their bill, gathering their things and stepping out of the door.

"Well, can't come back here again." is how Heather loudly says her goodbye to this particular watering hole. Sydney continues to laugh and blushes even harder.

2. ~What Shall Two Drunken Girls Do?~

There’s not much conversation between them until they get manage to hail a car a couple of minutes later. They’re too busy laughing at the situation in the cold December air. To any passer-by, they just seem to be in the spirit of the season. If only they knew what they were laughing at.

Sydney is besides herself with her own comportment, but also past caring at this point. She’s drunk enough to simply enjoy the festiveness of the moment with no inhibition. It feels very pure and liberating, like an out of body experience.

Heather doesn’t seem to care in general. The only thing the alcohol does for her is loosen her up enough to have a good time with a relative stranger; otherwise she seems like she tells these stories with the same confidence of practice with which an old man might tell his grandkids a cheesy joke. However, she can’t help but feel a connection to Sydney, despite the girl obviously sharing only a fraction of her natural lasciviousness.

As they get into the cab, they realize that they have no idea where they’re going. Other than drinking at the bar and getting to know one another, they hadn’t made any plans. Now that that was done, they had to consider where this was going.

“Uuhhh... wanna come to my place?” Sydney proposes. A good sign. Heather decides to push it one step further, though.

“No. How about you come to mine?” she offers instead. “I have a hot tub.” She finishes while pumping an eyebrow up and down in a comical suggestiveness. The implication is pretty clear despite the tinge of humour.

“Hell yes!” Sydney yells. The cabbie is just patiently waiting for an address, enjoying the view just as much as the thought of what his two passengers might get up to after their ride is done. Heather tells him where to go and the driver finds that he has to unglue his eyes from the rearview mirror before proceeding.

About 20 minutes later, Heather is fumbling with her keys, and more giggles ensue. Sydney is trying to stifle her laugh and getting red in the face as a result.

“I swear to God, I’m really good at finding the hole, most of the time!” Heather jokes. Giggles turn into another bout of hysterical laughter from the two, made even louder when Heather drops her keys.

Suddenly, the door unlatches and swings open. A man stands in front of them, dressed in a bathrobe, looking groggy.

“It's 3 in the morning, Heather.” he says with stern calm. The matter-of-fact remark makes both girls immediately shut up. Sydney stares at him like a deer in headlights. He was scowling but that did nothing to make him any less handsome.

Dirty blonde or light-brown hair just beginning to gray at the side, piercing eyes of a light colour Sydney couldn't quite make out, and a clean shave that accentuated sharp, wolfish features. He was also obviously about the same age as they were, but seemed to have the patience of a much older man.

“Sorry, daddy.” Heather replies sheepishly, as if on cue. The man sighs. Sydney looks at her new friend, bemused. Her voice changed drastically when she spoke to her boyfriend. She thought that this is probably what Heather sounds like when she calls him daddy during sex, too.

“Come in and go into the basement if you’re gonna stay up. I need my sleep.” He says calmly, seemingly used to Heather’s antics.

“Okay, daddy. Sorry.” She repeats. It sounds so weird in contrast to her normal way of speaking.

“Hi.” He says, quickly acknowledging Sydney and turning around before she even gives her reply.

"Hi." she says, seemingly going unheard. Her eyes trail his broad back, slumped from being tired. Obviously, he’s not interested in meeting anyone tonight, but maintains some semblance of good graces despite the situation. Sydney is immediately uncomfortable.

She didn’t realize that Heather’s boyfriend lived with her. From the night’s conversation, she was given the impression that their relationship was new and still on shaky grounds, as evidenced by Heather’s wild weekends with his parents. Heather was mostly harvesting a field of sex, not exactly planting seeds for next season's romance. Sharing a living space seemed strange.

“Come on, girl.” Heather says, grabbing Sydney's hand and following the man into the house. He goes upstairs and they go down after Heather said “Goodnight, daddy!” in that incredibly sweet, infantilized voice. It was half an octave higher than the voice which Heather had been speaking with throughout the night.

“Sorry about that! I didn’t think we were being that loud. Maybe no hot tub tonight, but we can still have some fun downstairs.” She says to Sydney as they walk down the stairs, suddenly back to her normal tone. Sydney frowns.

“Uuhh… maybe I should go. I feel like I’m intruding, now. I didn’t mean to wake up your boyfriend.” she says, unsure of herself, now.

“Huh?” Heather asks, turning around in the middle of the stairs. Her eloquence seems to be disappearing with the passing time.

“He seems nice, I feel bad for waking him up.” Sydney explains. In reality, she doesn't want to have sex with someone's girlfriend while they were under the same roof, open relationship or not.

“Bitch, that’s my dad! Hahahaha.” Heather replies. “Ew, I’d never call my boyfriend ‘daddy’ outside of sex. I don’t do roleplaying 24/7.” She laughs even harder and continues down the stairs. The revelation distracts Sydney completely.

“Wait, we’re in your parent’s house?” she asks. “You live with your parents?”

“Yu-huh.” Heather replies drunkenly, sounding more like a teenager now. “Well, it’s just me and my dad, but yeah.”

“Oh! I didn’t realize. He’s looks so young, I really thought that was your boyfriend!” Sydney explains, completely flabbergasted.

“Yeah, he’s only 39. It always throws people for a loop. Sorry, I should’ve told you I still lived at home.” Heather is seemingly oblivious to her word’s effects.

“Wait… 39? I don’t… I-I-I don’t get it.” Sydney says smiling, certain that she’s just been told an inside joke of some sort and requires explanation. Maybe Heather was making fun of the fact Sydney was only 5 years younger than her boyfriend? In her drunken state, anything made more sense than the idea of Heather's dad being under 40.

“Ugh, girl!” Heather begins. “I know you’re drunk, but it’s basic math. He was 18 when I was born.” She explains in a dismissive tone, as if frustrated to have to do so for the umpteenth time.

“Oh.” Sydney begins, but the implication hasn’t sunk in yet. Half a second later, the lightbulb goes off. “OH! Oh my god! Wait... I thought you... wait-wait-wait... How old are you?!”

"I just celebrated my 21st this year, bitch! Do I really look that much older?” Heather responds in mocked indignance, punctuated by a chuckle.

"No! No, I don't mean you look old. I just thought we were the same age cuz you... I don't know. You talk and act so mature, but you're only 21..." Sydney says, excusing herself.

Heather turns around, considering her words. “Wait, you're not 21?" she asks, obviously equally slow on the uptake.

"I got a few years on you, kiddo. I'm 34." Sydney says, giggling.

"Shit, girl... we both got our wires crossed. You're almost as old as my dad. Hope I look as good as you when I'm your age, then. Hahaha." Heather said jovially. "I'm legal age, okay? For drinking... and for this.” She finishes, before pulling Sydney into a kiss.

She is taken aback by the Heather's forwardness, though she probably shouldn’t be considering the kind of person her new young friend has proven to be. As Heather moves her tongue past Sydney’s lips, the latter replays some of their interactions since meeting earlier that day.

3. ~Lust at First Sight!~

Sydney had walked through the mall a bit aimlessly. The tall, curly-haired brunette had never been to this corner of the city and so she had no idea what stores were available. She continued to hunt for a nice present for her mother’s “Birthmas”.

The poor woman didn’t ask to be born on December 24th, and so she deserved something extra every year. That being said, Sydney had no clue what her mom would even like this year or if she’d find it anyway, considering how late into the season it was. Hell, it was even late in the day. The mall would close soon. Sydney had really dropped the ball this year.

That’s when she spotted it… the lingerie store. She suddenly knew exactly what to get her mother. After all, they had always been best friends, with no secrets between them. They shared everything, from their big brown eyes, to the secrets they kept from most everyone else. They could even share bras, having the exact same bust size; disproportionately large and generously shaped bosoms, they were. Now that Sydney was in her 30s, that extended to each other’s sex lives.

Unfortunately, being emotionally available for your mother in that way also meant the occasional bit of information she didn’t want or need. But suddenly, that came in handy. She knew her mom wanted a teddy. She expected her mom would appreciate gift for what it was, as well as for the joke it was meant to be.

"Don’t tell your daughter what you wear for dad, if you don’t wanna be embarrassed!" she pictured herself whispering to her mom as she handed her the present. She also intended to write on the card 'A TEDDY FOR DADDY! HAPPY BIRTHMAS, HO! HO HO HO!’ in big, bold letters.

Her mom had a wicked sense of humour, yet another thing the two women shared. They were very liberal in their home. Despite this, nothing could’ve prepared Sydney to meet someone like Heather. As she perused the store, a worker approached her. She seemed sweet and charming, also incredibly alluring with her shoulder-length auburn hair, green eyes and slender figure. She was short and very athletic.

“Can I help you find something?” she asked, ruby-red lips moving with a tantalizing smoothness. The smile that followed was as disarmingly enticing. Sydney took one look at her and decided she could trust the woman enough to tell her what she was looking for.

She was right, they had a good giggle as they found a cute little blue number to buy for Sydney’s mother. She even managed to cross-sell Sydney a couple of things for herself.

"I can't tell with certainty because of that turtleneck you're wearing, but you look like you've got H-cups? I'm gonna guess... a 28 or 30 band?" Heather asked. Sydney was impressed with Heather's keen eyes, both figuratively and literally. It's like her beautiful emeralds could see right through the fabric. She smiled embarrassedly.

"28H, yeah. How could you tell?" She asked, a bit self-conscious, but mostly curious.

"It's mostly experience... but you could say I like boobs as much as any straight guy." she finished with a whisper. She flashed a killed smile before continuing.

"I would kill for a set like yours... sorry, I'm not being very professional." Heather said, not overly sincere about the apology. She was definitely hitting on Sydney.

All of Sydney's lovers, men and women, had been fascinated with her tits. But when Sydney was growing up, most boys just objectified her and most girls were envious of the attention she got. Either way, it usually resulted in ridicule when she protested to either kind of attention.

She wore things like turtlenecks for good reason, and obviously even something like that wasn't up to the task of hiding her if Heather could figure her out so quickly.

"I'm going to go to the back and find you a few things." Heather announced, walking away. Sydney was immediately struck by the redhead's perfect ass as she strutted towards the backroom.

Snugly fit into a pair of tight black jeans, Heather's butt seemed to defy comprehension, much like Sydney's boobs did. It was a perfect peach, framing hips which flared outward with a perfection catering to today's extreme standards. Sydney nearly blushed, upon realizing she'd been staring.

When Heather returned moments later, she offered several items with different sizes. "Any of these should fit you. Obviously, men might try, but they can't make a science out of it." she said. "Sorry about earlier. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable with my comment."

Sydney didn't mind. She was used to it, and the girl was very funny and beyond sexy. She was already attracted. Thinking of how easily Heather figured out her measurement made her wonder if she could take a wild guess at how many inches were on the woman's perfect behind.

They ended up chatting about the pressure and stress of the holidays, mainly the topic of buying presents for family.