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From: "Gina Marie Wylie" <gmwylie98260@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Laura Alban Hunt Ch 2 -- Pool Party {Gina Marie Wylie} (Ff Cons)
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Date: Thu, 13 May 2004 16:10:07 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Laura Ch 2.rtf" begin>



   ----------------

   ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++





   The following is fiction of an adult nature.  If I believed in setting
age limits for things, you'd have to be eighteen to read this and I'd never
have bothered to write it.  IMHO, if you can read and enjoy, then you're
old enough to read and enjoy.



   ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++





   All persons here depicted are figments of my imagination and any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly a blunder on my part.



   ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++





   Official stuff: Story codes: Ff, con.





   If stories like this offend you, you will offend ME if you read further
and complain.  Copyright 2003, by Gina Marie Wylie.



   ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++





   I can be reached at gmwylie98260@hothothotmail.com, at least if you
remove some of the hots.  All comments and reasoned discussion welcome.



   Below is my site on ASSTR:

   http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gina_Marie_Wylie/www/



   My stories are also posted on StoriesOnline:

   http://Storiesonline.net/



   And on Electronic Wilderness Publishing:

   http:// www.ewpub.org/



   ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++





   Laura Alban Hunt



   Chapter Two -- Pool Party





   That Saturday dawned bright.  I was up early taking care of a raft of
last minute details, pleased that I could do something for Susan to make up
for all the things I'd done to her.





   Susan's best friend was Jamie Kellogg, who lived about a half mile away;
they were both in the same homeroom at the middle school.  Jamie's mother,
Linda, a tall, full-figured blonde, had volunteered to help me deliver the
dozen teenagers to the Cineplex to watch an animated feature called ``Ice
Age.''





   ``My daughter found a kindred heart in Susan,'' Linda told me.  We had
returned to the house to sip tea in the shade by the pool and to await our
chauffeur duties later.  I was still unused to the Arizona weather and was
wearing jeans and a blouse; Linda was much more comfortable in thigh-length
shorts and an elastic top that ran from her shoulders to midriff.





   ``Oh?'' I asked.



   Susan didn't talk much about her other friends.  School in general, but
not the personalities.  I'd heard a lot about Jamie, though.  The two of
them frequently studied together at one house or the other.  Jamie was
about five six, as blonde and blue-eyed as her mother, and showing early
signs of being as buxom.





   ``Jamie wants to be a cheerleader next year when she starts at
Scottsdale.  She has a cousin on the squad there; Gail has been talking
Susan's ear off about what a good time she is having, all of the activities
she participates in besides cheerleading.  Now, Jamie says Susan wants to
go out for cheer too.  I thing my daughter has infected yours with the
cheerleading bug.''





   I explained my own history and Linda nodded.





   ``It wasn't quite that bad for me.'' She ran her hand over one of her
breasts, hefting it.  ``These started growing in sixth grade; by the time I
got to high school they made it hard to deal with in any sort of athletic
activity that required bouncing around.'' She grimaced.  ``So I made sure I
married a guy from a long line of small breasted women.  Dennis stayed with
me long enough to get me pregnant, then moved in with a guy he'd gone to
college with.  More his type, if you get my drift.''





   ``Oh.'' Not much you can say about that.





   ``He told me once, that all his life he'd wanted a family where there
were boys, boys, boys.  I came from a family with all girls, he came from a
family where there were only girls; he took Jamie as a sign from heaven as
to what was coming and bailed.  I wished him happiness, but it didn't work
out for him.'' She sighed, met my eyes.  ``He's got AIDS, he won't come
near either of us; stupid lunk.  We both still love him.''





   ``My husband worked in the World Trade Center.'' As effective a way as
any of ending conversations about departed husbands.





   ``Sorry,'' Linda told me.



   All I could do was shrug.  ``Sorry'' and ``Sympathy'' were words I heard
too often; meaningless perfunctory words that excused people from having to
actually face what it meant to lose your husband.





   ``So, our daughters are best friends.  That's a good thing,'' Linda
said, trying to ease the silence that followed.





   ``I'm glad.  Susan is very outgoing and I'm...  well, I never was. 
Since Roger died, I'm pretty much of a loner.''





   ``That's not good.  You should get out, get around.'' She glanced at me.
``Of course, that's me talking.  I suppose it's different for everyone.''





   ``I'm still adjusting to it; I know it sounds silly seven months
later.''





   ``It's not silly at all!  I saw those pictures that day; Dennis called
and told me I had to watch.'' She looked at me apologetically.  ``It was
awful.  I didn't watch for very long.''





   ``Awful,'' I agreed.  ``The President of the company Roger worked for
was one of six survivors of more than four hundred employees.  He told us
that only five others from the entire company had survived.  Five clerks
had been downstairs on break, getting bagels and having a smoke.  He was
out of the office, at a meeting that day.  None of the people who'd been in
the office have been identified.  He told us that the Mayor and police
chief had told him that the people above the crash site were atomized in
the collapse.''





   I managed to keep back the tears.  ``Atomized,'' I spoke the word
softly, not the scream that featured so prominently in my dreams in the
five months since that meeting.  The President of Roger's company had
become a gaunt shell; how do you adjust to your entire company vanishing?
And that you survived?





   Linda was silent for a long moment, and then sighed.  ``It's a very good
thing our daughters are best friends.''





   The moment passed, the world seemed to brighten a little.





   After we'd brought the girls back from the Cineplex, Linda asked if I
needed help with anything.



   I shook my head.  ``One reason I agreed to this: teenagers are getting
to the point where they are self-sufficient, they also can entertain
themselves.  Susan has been a pillar of strength and fortitude; she
deserves this.''





   Linda laughed.  ``Oh, I remember entertaining myself a lot when I was
thirteen!  I didn't need friends!  Not that friends weren't nice too!''





   I blushed, remembering my own, shy, hesitant explorations.  They had
been few and far between, until I'd met Roger.  Then I'd seriously made up
for lost time and opportunity.  If I wasn't with him, I spent time dreaming
I was.





   Linda left; the girls started splashing the water out of the pool.



   I sat in the kitchen, tea glass in one hand, and a book in the other. 
Was that maybe part of it?  I'd had a happy, full sex life and now that was
gone too, along with Roger.  I hadn't really thought about sex since that
day.  There had been too much shock, too many tears, and entirely too much
upheaval in our lives.





   The kitchen timer went off and I started on dinner.  Susan had wanted
pizza and I'd vetoed that.  I'd suggested spaghetti and Susan had vetoed
that.  The previous owner of the house had a built-in barbeque a short
distance from the pool; I'd never barbequed anything in my life, although I
remember my dad doing it often enough when I was growing up.





   I got the charcoal going, put on some hamburgers, hot dogs, and some
chicken legs to cook on the grill.  I quickly learned that chicken wasn't
as easy to barbeque as hot dogs or hamburgers; the fat dripped and kept
catching on fire.  Finally I put the chicken off to one side, and that
seemed to work, although the cooking time on the chicken went up quite a
bit.





   But it was something the girls were used to.  They sat outside on the
deck with the two picnic tables pushed together, talking and having a good
time, as much, it seemed, as they'd been having in the pool.





   I had lemonade, soda pop and tea for them to drink; I was surprised to
find out that tea and lemonade were more popular than the soda.  I had to
make some more.



   You never think so prosaic a task as carrying pitchers of tea and
lemonade can change your whole life.  It happened to me.  Since that moment
my life has never been the same.





   One of the girls stood up from her chair.  She stretched, actually a
classic full yawn, her back arched, her arms above her head, mouth wide
open.  She was wearing a modest two-piece suit, but modest or not, my eyes
were riveted to her breasts, and her twin, very erect, exceedingly visible,
nipples.





   I didn't quite drop the pitchers of tea and lemonade, but it was a close
thing.  I set them down next to the ice bowl, trying to control a welter of
emotions and hormones that had surged through my body.  I turned and
retreated back to the house as quickly as I could manage.





   I sagged against the refrigerator; suddenly emotionally spent.  ``Too
much sun, I guess,'' I muttered to myself.  That and Linda had brought up
the subject, one that I had spent overlong thinking about ever since.  I
couldn't believe that I'd been sexually aroused by a teenage girl.  Nor was
it easy to accept how much I'd been aroused in that brief second.  I
laughed at myself.  What had I thought earlier?  That it had been too long?
Oh baby!  Had it ever!





   My heart returned to normal, my breathing slowed as well.  I decided I
really had spent too much time in the sun.





   Later, a couple of the girls helped bring in the serving plates,
silverware and the like, and then helped me load the dishwasher.  The girl
who'd yawned was one of them.





   I cautiously glanced at her out of the corner of my eye.  I was pleased
and relieved that my body and hormones remained calm.  That, and her
nipples were no longer erect.  I started the dishwasher chugging away and
turned around.





   She was there, standing looking at me.  Everyone else had gone back
outside.  ``I'm Gail Kellogg, the cuckoo's egg today,'' she said,
introducing herself.





   I shook my head, not understanding.  ``Jamie and Susan, the rest of
their friends.  Eighth grade cheer wannabes.'' She buffed her nails on the
skin of her upper chest.  ``I, on the other hand, am a junior and assistant
choreographer of the Scottsdale squad.''





   I nodded then, in understanding, Linda had mentioned her niece. 
``You're a little older than the rest,'' I said.





   ``Yep, but I live right, exercise a lot, and look younger than I am.''





   ``You do.  I'd never have known unless you'd said something.''





   ``Tell me, Susan's mom, do you have a name?''





   ``Laura Alban Hunt.''





   Gail smiled.  ``Oh, wow!  Three barrels!  Cool!''





   I was startled when she reached out, put a hand on my hip, leaned close
and kissed me on the cheek.  ``Thanks for putting up with us, Laura,'' Gail
said as she drew close.  When her lips were near my ear, she added, ``I
think you noticed something special about me earlier.'' It was a whisper,
and then she pulled back, and smiled broadly at me.  ``Thanks again.''





   I nodded, trying not to flush.





   There is, I learned that afternoon, a difference between when a man
seduces a woman, and when a woman does it.  Men like the chase, but they
don't like to be kept waiting to find out if there is light at the end of
the tunnel.  A woman, on the other hand, enjoys the chase for itself, and
is far, far more patient.  She's still interested in the light at the end
of the tunnel, but willing to take her time.  And willing to patiently wait
to find out if she will succeed.





   Later, the party moved inside to the family room.  Susan and a couple of
the girls put their heads together, and put on some CD's.  Half a dozen of
them were dancing at any one time, sometimes more.  The rest stood around
talking, obviously relaxed and comfortable, enjoying themselves.  I stuck
my head in right after the music started, then again an hour later.  By
then it was after eight thirty and was dark outside.





   Gail motioned to me.  Most of the girls were still in their bathing
suits from earlier, Gail included.



   ``Would you like to dance?'' she asked.



   I met her eyes, wondering if it was a good idea.  Still, I'd had a short
conversation with her earlier and I hadn't completely freaked out; so sure,
why not?  And if there was a little curiosity on my part as to what she
meant about being special, that was okay too.  She was surely talking about
something else.





   We danced a fast one, and then the music segued to slow.  She danced
with her arm around me, and I had mine around her.  We talked of school and
cheerleading, things she was doing, things I wished I'd had done myself,
things I hoped Susan would have the opportunity to do.





   I was mildly distracted by having nothing but warm skin under my hand,
the memory of my earlier rush of hormones never far from my mind.  But the
conversation was varied and far afield, I relaxed.





   The song ended and Gail smiled at me.  ``Come.''



   She nodded towards the sliding glass door that led out to the pool deck.
It was a pleasant request, not an imperative.  I followed her out onto the
deck.  The evening had cooled off; it was now fully dark and the air was
still and pleasant, even with the pool a few feet away.





   ``You know what it means when someone talks about belling the cat?'' she
asked, standing next to the pool.  Both of us were watching the lights
around the pool deck sparkling on the water.





   ``Yes,'' I said, mystified.





   ``I've been appointed a party of one, to bell the cat.  You.''





   ``Me?'' I asked, more mystified and confused.





   She nodded, then gestured at the house.  ``Most of these girls have
known each other since forever.  Your Susan and Penny Harris are two new
girls this spring.  The others have been getting to know them; this party
is sort of the final exam.''





   I saw her eyes were on me, so I met them.  ``I'd like to ask you to not
go back into your family room for the rest of the evening and night.  Not
until tomorrow morning.''





   ``And if I don't agree, what happens to Susan's chances of being a
cheerleader?''





   ``No harm, no foul.  Maybe nine of ten of the girls have parents who are
not cool.  That's just a fact of life.  Aunt Linda said that maybe, just
maybe, you are one of the cool ones.''





   ``Cool about what?'' I asked.





   ``Girls,'' Gail answered simply.  ``Girls and girls, Laura.  Like Susan
and Jamie.  Like all the rest.  These girls have been...  friends...  for a
long time.'' She laughed then.  ``Oh wait, I forgot: since last year.  I'm
not with my high school teammates tonight!''





   She continued to look at me, her eyes showing very little.  ``Laura, my
mother is uptight and very religious.  Dad started going to Promise Keepers
a few years ago, Mom caught the `born-again' bug, and now she too is washed
in the blood of the lamb.





   ``I don't want to sound cynical or dismissive about my parent's beliefs,
but that's the whole problem in a nutshell.  Those are their beliefs; I
have different ones, beliefs at odds with theirs.





   ``I for one, don't see anything wrong with two girls making love all
night long.  We're a small circle of friends; we almost never go outside
it. Thus the risk of STD's is very low.  Girls and girls...'' She grinned.
``Very low risk of accidental pregnancy.  God the Father is about the only
one we have to worry about.'' She giggled, and I nodded, understanding the
joke.





   ``Once, I was trying to explain to Aunt Linda why I felt the way I do,
but she put her finger on my lips, shushing me.  `You don't have to
explain,' she told me.  `I was in high school too.  You only get one shot
at growing up.  Yes, you should do well in school; having friends who study
with you, support you, that's a real help.  But live your own life, Gail.
Don't let anyone tie you down, unless that's what you want.''' Gail smiled.





   ``So we have these parties where we can do the things we want.  Like
make love until the sun comes up.'' She gestured at the house.  ``A couple
of the girls are aggressive, hungry.  They like to be with someone
different any chance they get.  Others nest, they find someone they like,
and become friends for life.  I think we'll all be friends for life; some
though, are a whole lot closer than others.





   ``Not all cheerleaders are gay, Laura.  But all of them at Scottsdale.
And these girls as well.  And me.''





   I took a deep breath.  ``And what happens if someone finds out?''





   Gail shrugged.  ``Someone finds out.  None of us enjoy being sneaks, but
it's either that or live small, cramped lives, controlled by others.  My
mom, for instance, thinks I'm a good influence, because I like to work with
the younger girls bringing them along.'' There was a momentary wicked gleam
in her eyes.  ``I'm one of the hungry ones.''





   She waved again at the house.  ``Were you to go back inside now, there
would be a lot of earnest conversations going on; the music is still
playing but the dancing is over with.  Earnest conversations that will
shortly change to soft kisses, light touches, gentle caresses.  And
then...'' She smiled.  ``Leave them to themselves, and come morning there
will be a lot of happy campers in there, ready to face another week of
dull, stultifying school.''





   Gail stopped talking, just stood looking at me.  After a second, she
reached for my hand and held it in hers.  ``And of course, the best benefit
of all: you can show me your bedroom.''





   I stood still, totally indecisive.  All sorts of things ran through my
mind.  I'd wondered why the cheerleaders in high school had voted against
me so many times.  Was it because I never hung out with them, or was it
because I was an unknown quantity?  No matter how horny I was, did I really
want my first sex after my husband's death a lesbian experience with a high
school cheerleader, not half my age?





   I met her eyes, and she squeezed my fingers gently.  ``Please.'' A smile
quirked Gail's lips.  ``I don't often beg.''





   Her hand dropped away from mine, but that was because she lifted her arm
and put it around my waist, turning to face me.  Without a word, she
brought her lips up to mine, and kissed me.  No school girl kiss, but a
hard, frank, sexual kiss, her tongue already seeking entrance to my mouth.
I opened to her, opened my mouth, opened my body.





   There was nothing shy and timid about Gail, she was as she said, hungry.
Her arms went around me, pulling me to her, and I returned the gesture. 
Gail kissed like Roger had, hungry and horny, eager.  Above all, eager.





   After a few seconds, I pulled back.  ``I've never been with anyone
before.'' I saw Gail lift an eyebrow in obvious sarcasm.  ``A woman, I
mean,'' I told her.





   Gail laughed softly.  ``Dearest Laura, it really is like falling off a
bike.  You just let go, relax...  and nature takes care of the rest.''





   I chuckled.  ``I'm not sure I like your metaphor.''





   ``Trust me to provide a soft landing, Laura.'' She flicked her eyes to
the house.  ``We want to live happy, contented lives; above all, we want to
wake up in the morning full of good cheer, a bounce in our step, a sparkle
in our eyes.  You can't do that if you have even one regret, Laura.  So
relax, enjoy.  Trust me.''





   With those last two words her hands on my back moved, popping my bra
snap beneath my blouse.  In seconds Gail had my blouse undone, it went
fluttering down to the deck, followed at once by my bra.  Gail cupped my
breasts, leaned down and kissed one, using her tongue on my rock-hard
nipple and aroused areolas.





   Over the next hour I found that while I'd long believed Roger to be an
attentive lover, as interested in my pleasure as his, it was a shadow of
how Gail went about making love to me.



   Roger had licked and kissed me to orgasm many, many times; then he
entered me and we sought completion together.  Gail was intent on my
pleasure alone.  Even as prosaic a task as removing my jeans, her lips
tasted and suckled my breasts.  Gail explored my untrimmed bush, finding
the warm, wonderful, wet places hidden there; first with her fingers, then
with her tongue.





   Roger had gone down on me a few times, as I'd done to him.  It wasn't,
he'd told me, that he didn't like it, but he liked ``regular'' intercourse
better.  Since I felt the same way about going down on him, it didn't seem
odd or out of balance.  Now and then, it had been a nice change of pace, a
chance to do something different to spice things up.





   For Gail, oral sex was the whole thrust of her desire.  She fingered me,
oh indeed, yes, she fingered me!  But above all it was her mouth, licking
and sucking, her tongue plunging inside me like some short, fat penis that
aroused me more than my husband had ever done.





   I had my first orgasm while she was still kissing my breasts, another
when she sucked on my clit, then lightly nipped it.  Another while her
tongue moved in me like Roger's erection had, another when I thought there
couldn't be another.





   We ended up on one of the deck lounge chairs, the kind with a thick pad.
After my latest orgasm, Gail lifted her head and grinned at me.  ``You
still haven't shown me your bedroom.''





   I nodded, and she stood up, and then offered me her hand.  Roger and I
had spent hours and hours making love; I wasn't sure how long Gail and I'd
been together, but it hadn't been hours and hours.  Even so, my legs were
wobblier than ever I'd felt with Roger.





   By the time we reached my bedroom, Gail was nude as well.  She lightly
pushed me down, on my back, and then straddled me, moving forward so that I
could kiss her as she'd kissed me.





   Gail had only a tiny tuft of hair, high up, just above her mons.  My
god, I thought, she's just a little girl!  Then I remembered orgasm after
orgasm; she might not be fully adult, but her sexual abilities were!  So I
leaned close and tasted her.  I'd never tasted a woman before; I was
surprised that Gail was tart and spicy.  For a moment I kept my composure,
then the smells, the tastes filled my mind, energized my libido like it
never been energized before.





   I assaulted Gail with my tongue, using it with wild abandon, licking,
sucking, nipping, kissing -- any way you can imagine a mouth and lips and
tongue used to pleasure a woman, I did it.  Gail groaned, moaned, twisted
and squirmed.  I felt her juices running down my face, and I chased the
trickles I could reach, then again and again driving my tongue into her.





   Finally Gail collapsed forward, utterly wrung out.  ``Goodness, Laura,''
she said, snuggling down into the crook of my arm.  ``I think you liked
that!  I surely did.''





   ``Yes.'' My lust waned, the fires ebbed.  I blinked, suddenly afraid. 
``Are you okay?'' I asked.





   ``Okay?'' Gail giggled.  ``Okay and then some, Laura!  Oh, a little
sore, but oh, sweet Laura, I want some more of that heavenly tongue before
I go!''



   She leaned close, planted a kiss on one of my nipples, a nipple that
instantly stood up, demanding attention.  I slid my hand down, along Gail's
hip, resting finally on the smooth, muscular globe of her bottom.





   I felt desire rise in me, only to be brought up short by another Gail
giggle.  ``Oh, you're getting horny again,'' she muttered.





   ``I don't think I really stopped,'' I admitted.





   ``I was up late last night,'' Gail told me.  Then she kissed my nipple
gently one more time.  ``It wasn't like this.  Now it's late, Laura.  We
should save a little for later today.''





   I glanced past her at the clock radio on the nightstand; ten or ten
thirty I thought.  I was stunned to see it was nearly two.  I sank back,
suddenly aware of how tired I was.



   ``Good girl!'' Gail murmured, ``I don't think I could stay awake through
another, and it's too grand to waste!''





   I hugged her, and she put her head down, pillowed on my breast.  It
didn't take but a minute before her breathing was even, slow and even. 
Then mine matched hers.

   
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