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From: "Katherine T." <katherinet_@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Blonde (lesbian, FF) (Katherine T.)
Date: Tue, 31 Oct 2000 10:10:10 -0500
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{ASSM} The Blonde (lesbian, FF) (Katherine T.)
The following entertainment is for adults only, and anyone not
an adult is hereby warned to go away.
All comments to the author will be greatly appreciated.
Contact me at katherinet_@hotmail.com
A repository of erotic fiction by Katherine T. can be found at
the following URL: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Katherine_T
Author's note: I wrote this story some years ago under another
pseudonym. I've made some changes and I'm now posting the new
version for the first time on ASSM.
The Blonde
by Katherine T.
Marty was in a downtown garage getting an oil change when
she saw the blonde for the first time. A sharp looking blonde in
a fur coat, tall and distant, her eyes hidden by opaque
sunglasses, hair long enough to dip over the collar of the fur
coat. Marty checked her out, told herself she wouldn't mind at
all, wouldn't mind changing the blonde's oil if she needed it.
What else was there to do while sitting in the grungy little
waiting room on a plastic chair? The room had a counter, someone
half asleep from the garage behind the counter at the cash
register, two vending machines and a half dozen plastic chairs
for the customers while they waited for their cars to be worked
on. The only customers in the room at the moment were Marty, the
blonde in the fur coat, and a sleepy-looking cab driver with a
toothpick in his mouth. The cab driver had his nose buried in a
newspaper. He'd seen too many blondes like this one climbing in
and out of his cab. So it was only Marty who actually looked at
the blonde, looked at her and fantasized what it would be like.
The fur coat hid the blonde's body between her head and her
legs, but the legs were good, very good indeed in stiletto high
heels that probably cost more than Marty earned in two days as an
electrician. The blonde was maybe in her early thirties. She
looked like she'd been around the track a few times, not winded,
but like she'd seen the course. Marty imagined herself stripping
the blonde by candlelight. Marty liked taking her time with a
woman. She imagined herself slowly stripping the blonde and then
giving her a workout. She imagined the blonde on her back with
her legs up and her pink pussy slowly opening like a clam as
Marty looked at it. The blonde reminded Marty of a centerfold
she'd once pulled out from a magazine to put on a wall. A naked
blonde wearing nothing but white heels and sitting on a low
glider with her legs wide open. The glider was so low, the blonde
in the photo seemed to be squatting. You had to look close to see
she was actually sitting on the white glider. She had a neat
little pussy, the hair shaved away along the slit to leave all
that lovely pussy meat completely visible. She was tan all over,
and she squatted there in the sunshine with her eyes hidden by
dark sunglasses. And how. Marty had memories of herself
masturbating while she looked at the picture. A perfect blonde
with a perfect pussy. She had a thing about blondes in white
heels. Too bad this one wasn't wearing white. Too bad it was
January and not July, because in July this one would wear white
and she would certainly be something to look at. Blonde het
woman, but Marty never minded just looking at them.
They had Marty's car out before the blonde's, and as Marty
left the waiting room, the last thing she looked at was the
blonde's flashing legs as the blonde paced back and forth like a
restless cat. And how.
* * *
Marty worked for the Acme Electric Company. She was a
licensed electrician, and for the past two years they'd had her
out solo doing small jobs and she liked the freedom. Work on a
new building and you're just one of a swarm punching a clock. On
the small jobs, she went out alone unless she needed a helper,
and that wasn't often.
In June, Marty went out on a call to a plush townhouse to
replace a fuse box ruined by a water leak. Some of the townhouses
downtown, no matter how expensive, were getting old and they
needed rehab. Water leaks came first, and when that happened the
electrical fixtures and wiring went next. That was all Marty was
thinking about, electrical fixtures and wiring, when she walked
into the plush townhouse and found the blonde she'd seen in
January waiting for her.
Not waiting, actually, but the townhouse belonged to the
blonde and her husband.
"I thought it would be a man," Mrs. Ferguson said. That was
her name. Ferguson.
Marty shrugged. "Don't worry about it, ma'am. I'm pretty
good myself."
"Sure, I bet you are." And with that Mrs. Ferguson turned
and walked away.
No recognition. She had looked at Marty as though she'd
never seen her before. Seemed to look through her, in fact. No
memory of that winter day when they'd been in the garage waiting
room together. Mrs. Ferguson apparently remembered nothing.
But Marty remembered. And how. This was definitely the same
blonde. No fur coat now. Nothing but a thin summer dress that
showed the long lines of a lean body.
Marty worked on the fusebox in the basement for about an
hour, and then she came up to the kitchen to work on the
auxiliary. Mrs. Ferguson walked in wearing a white chenille robe
that covered her from neck to toes and asked Marty if she wanted
some coffee.
"The maid's out, but I can make it myself," Mrs. Ferguson
said.
"You don't need to bother," Marty said.
"Oh, it's no bother. You know, somehow you look familiar. I
think I've seen you somewhere before. Is that possible?"
Marty told her about that January afternoon in the garage
waiting room.
"I remember the fur," Marty said.
"The fur?"
"You wore a smashing black fur coat."
"Oh, that one."
What could one say to that? Oh that one. Did she have them
in all colors? No fur now, only the white chenille robe, and
belted so loosely that each time Mrs. Ferguson moved Marty caught
a glimpse of bare thigh and a suggestion that maybe under the
robe Mrs. Ferguson was naked.
They stood facing each other, sipping their coffee, talking
about the weather, the house, and what it was like for a woman to
be an electrician.
"I like it," Marty said. She was sorry she couldn't see more
of Mrs. Ferguson's legs. She remembered those legs. She imagined
what was between them. This one had to be one fine pussy. Marty
sipped her coffee and felt stupid because she was dying to have a
look and it would never happen.
Mrs. Ferguson stared blankly at one of the kitchen walls. "I
come from a small town in Pennsylvania. Lots of coal dust. All I
ever wanted was to be out of there, and that's where I am. Out of
there."
"This is a nice house," Marty said.
"It costs two and a half million dollars, and if my husband
wanted he could buy the whole block."
"He must be rich."
"Very. And he's a slimy bastard to boot." She came close to
Marty and looked into Marty's eyes. "You're a dyke, aren't you?"
Just like that. You're a dyke, aren't you? The words bounced
around in Marty's head while she stood there frozen, dumbfounded,
paralyzed.
Shaking herself loose, Marty nodded. "Yes, I am. Does that
bother you?"
The blonde gave a low laugh, reaching out to toy with the
collar of Marty's shirt. "Yes, it bothers me. It bothers me very
much." And then she leaned forward and she kissed Marty's mouth.
Her lips were warm and she meant business.
Marty turned on so quickly, she felt the sex heat in her
face. This was not the time to ask questions. She kissed back,
sliding her arms around Mrs. Ferguson, squeezing Mrs. Ferguson in
her arms as she worked her tongue into Mrs. Ferguson's mouth.
Mrs. Ferguson finally pulled back to catch her breath. "Yes,
this is just what I need. Can you stay awhile? What's your name?"
"Marty. And yes I can stay awhile."
"I'm Gina," Mrs. Ferguson said.
Gina. Marty liked the name. She liked everything about the
blonde, her name, the house, the kitchen, everything. There was
no need to worry about what to do next, because the next moment
Gina casually opened her white chenille robe and pulled it apart
to show herself to Marty.
"Not bad for a girl pushing forty, am I?" She held the robe
open to be looked at.
She was something to look at, all right. She had a young
body, small breasts, tight firmness everywhere, an even suntan.
And a shaved pussy.
Marty's heart pounded as she gazed at that bald mound,
plump, only the top of the slit visible, the mound as smooth and
tan as the rest of her body. Gina laughed as she noticed Marty's
interest. She was standing beside one of the kitchen chairs, and
with her eyes on Marty, she calmly propped her left foot on the
seat of the chair and swung her thigh to the side to open her
pussy to Marty's eyes. "How's that?"
Marty knew only one answer, only one response to such an
outstanding offer. She went down on her knees in front of Gina,
ran her hand up the back of Gina's right leg, sniffed around the
insides of Gina's open thighs to delight in the scent of some
expensive cologne before leaning forward to get her mouth on that
plump shaved pussy.
Gina made a sound, half gasp, half moan, pushing her pelvis
forward to signal she wanted more of it. Marty worked the smooth
cunt with her lips and tongue. Gina's clit was a neat little bud
with a firm shaft. Marty rubbed it with the tip of her nose as
she used her tongue to scoop up the melted frosting that streamed
out of Gina's pussy. When Gina started nervously humping at
Marty's face, Marty understood she wanted it now and she focussed
on Gina's enlarged clit.
"Oh hell, don't stop," Gina said. "Suck my clit hard."
Suck it hard, Marty did, and when Gina went off she humped
so hard against Marty's face, she almost knocked Marty over on
her back.
Marty rose and kissed her, her mouth and chin carrying
Gina's juices to Gina's lips.
In a soft, throaty voice, Gina said: "Baby, you're good."
"The best."
"Do you ever use a strap-on? I have one if you'll use it."
Marty followed her to the master bedroom with her eyes on
the round little ass and fine legs.
She watched Gina search beneath the underwear in a drawer
and pull out a ribbed pink dildo and harness.
Gina held it up. "For me, this is guaranteed heaven."
"Could I ask a favor?"
"Sure, what is it?"
"Do you have white shoes? Maybe a pair of white heels?"
Gina stared at her, a long stare that ended with a nod.
"Yes, I do. Oh, you bet I do."
Marty smiled and started unbuckling her tool belt.
end
All comments to the author will be greatly appreciated.
Contact me at katherinet_@hotmail.com
A repository of erotic fiction by Katherine T. can be found at
the following URL: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Katherine_T
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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