1. Fever Dream


    Date: 9/12/2015, Categories: Lesbian, Author: MadMartigan, Rating: 15, Source: LushStories

    journalistic mind still works, at least. So does my memory . Rules , I deduce. Don’t forget the rules . I want to scream out, say, ‘fuck the rules!’ Fuck them indeed. Following rules aren’t what made me the youngest overseas correspondent. They didn’t lead to solar energy tycoon Max Gleason’s breakdown confession to yours truly about using government subsidies to payoff his eighteen-year-old floozy. Bending them did. Sometimes breaking them. You have to be cutthroat and proactive to get ahead. Or so said my socioeconomic journalism professor as he fucked me over his desk while changing an ugly little B- to an A. But I can’t. Or won’t. Who’s to say? I agreed to the rules after all, wrote them down in fact, while she illustrated them with dirty photographs and raunchy humor . I can’t really explain the why of it, which frustrates me to no end. It was during a Monday morning pitch meeting. Two highly recruited journalists, one investigative, and the other photographic. Two young, ambitious women salivating for the week’s lead story, both assigned to it to spare everyone else the headaches that would have followed if only one of us had gotten it. Maybe what started it all was sexual frustration. Or that tingling sensation when my finger brushed hers while reaching for the same pen. Or boredom. Or curiosity. Or a simple coping mechanism. Leverage to blackmail the other in the form of a glittering ring on her slender finger and the romantically themed photograph hanging in my ...
    cubicle. Or maybe it was to experience something so depravedly wrong, that it felt perfectly right. Maybe it’s none of those. Or maybe it’s all of them… hence the frustration. I don’t know. I don’t like not knowing. A silken cascade of hair tickles my toes, hot breath warming the small digits cooled off by that gust of winter wind. Warm lips press against each perfectly manicured toe, tongue flicking out in a delicate tease. My face starts to burn in embarrassed shame. I used to think feet and sex just didn’t mix. I’d grimace in disgust when some girlfriends would talk about it during Wine Wednesdays. Then I discovered just how erogenous that area could be in the most embarrassing of ways. I’ve never had the courage to bring it up with Grayson. I doubt he’d ever go for it anyway. But this woman… she seems to know exactly where to go. She moves up my body, hot mouth alternating kisses with long sweeps of a cat-like tongue. The heat flares inside me again and I feel wonderfully dizzy, drunk on wine, drunk on fire, drunk on sheepskin rugs, and drunk on the sensations she’s awakening inside me. Her lustrous hair tickles the expanse of my legs as she crawls upward with a titillating slowness that both frustrates and excites me. When her breasts finally flatten against mine, it’s like an electrical current sparking involuntary reactions. Salty tears of desperate need pool at the corners of my eyes and sticky cum starts drooling out of me like a busted wipe. I feel like one of those weak ...
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