1. Clara alone


    Date: 9/8/2016, Categories: Lesbian, Author: GoBigCatGo, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    Clara sat on the tube train with the ghost of her reflection in the dark glass opposite her. An old letch, sitting nearby, desperately tried not to look at her flip-flopped feet. She knew it was a hopelessly narcissistic thing to think, but every day she was reminded just how much of a handicap her looks were. Most people blinked at her as if she was just too bright to stare at. Or they peered at her out of the corner of their eye. Her skin was perfect, her figure healthy and curvaceous, her hair sleek and black, her eyes big, dark and liquid, her mouth plump and almost comically cupid. And she hated every bit of it. Only the delusionally overconfident or downright creepy ever dared talk to her. All the nice people scampered away if she sought them out. It had been over a year since she last had sex. And that was with a bloke who was so intimidated he couldn’t get hard then immediately came when she touched him. She crossed her legs and frowned at the gawper opposite. Then at everyone else on the tube. Then she got off the train. She was knotted and tense with a horniness she had been unable to deal with that morning. Her idiotic flatmate had blundered into the bathroom and actually taken a shit just as she’d been trying to get off with the showerhead. So even that meagre release had been denied her. And it was the weekend. And she still had to work. She let herself into the empty furniture showroom and cursed her bosses requirement to have someone there all the time, even ...
    though the place was so relentlessly chichi all their viewings were by private booking only. “Darlink!” he said, often, knowing no other punctuation beyond exclamation, “but you are my most exquisite piece! When the morons buy my furniture they think they are buying the chance to be you!” Clara harrumphed at her desk, set up facing the window, and set about her shop-dummy duty of trying to look busy. She turned on her laptop and flicked through her emails. Spam, spam, spam, spam. “Bloody Vikings,” she mumbled, then one message caught her eye. Amongst all the other tawdry toss, one stood out, its subject “Clara finally gets laid.” The message was blank, but for a link. She knew she shouldn’t click it. She looked about the empty showroom, outside to the empty street. She bit her lip… Her brain flipped down between her legs. She clicked the link. No website, just a video popping up full screen, a naked girl spread across a black bed. He heart lurched and she reached for the off switch then squirmed in the illicit realisation that absolutely no-one could see. Even if they pressed their nose to the window, they’d see her not the screen. She crossed her legs, suppressed a smirk and watched the naked girl. Not naked. She still had a bra on. Somehow that made her seem even more exposed, just her bits out. The view was from some distance, so Clara couldn’t see too much, but the girl clearly had dark hair and kind of looked like her. Who was this from? Weirdly the email said it was from ...
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