Lizzie and Sarah's Hope Chest

“Hey…”

Her voice was calling from far away, and I opened my eyes to her navel, the taste of her still thick and warm in my throat, sweet honey.

“Lizzie, it’s after midnight, is someone going to be worried about you?” My eyes found hers in the firelight.

“Hmmm, parents. Whereza phone?” I asked, my voice thick. She reached behind her toward the end table, but couldn’t quite reach. I reluctantly shifted my weight to allow her to get it, instantly missing the feel of her body against mine. I sat up blinking, clutching my knees, suddenly too aware of my skin.

“Guess we fell asleep,” she whispered, handing me the cordless phone. I was instantly flushed as I looked at the tips of her nipples, growing harder as I watched, probably just the transition from asleep to awake, from cuddled, fleshy warmth to out-of-bed shivers.

“Guess so,” I whispered back, our eyes meeting again. I dropped mine and cleared my throat, dialing in the dimness. Ringing. And ringing.

“Are you ok?” Sarah whispered, running a finger against the fine hairs along my forearm. I nodded, “Yeah,” I whispered. I wasn’t quite sure 'what' I was. Then I looked at her again and smiled. “Why are we whispering?” I whispered. She laughed, softly still, as if we might wake some invisible presence. “I don’t know!”

“Lizzie?” It was my mother, sleepy but sure.

“Yeah.” There was my voice! “Listen, I’m at Sarah’s house, from work. I’m going to stay over, ok?”

“Call me in the morning.” She was already falling back to sleep. “Love you, ‘night.”

“Love you, too, ‘night,” I replied, a standard goodbye. I was startled by Sarah’s expression as I handed her the phone. “What?” I asked.

She looked a little sad, a little surprised as she hung up the phone and turned back to me. She shifted herself so she was turned towards me, her posture mimicking mine, hugging her knees to her breasts. My eyes quickly dipped down those long, tawny-colored thighs and caught a glimpse of the soft, fuzzy patch at their union. I felt the world slip sideways when I saw how slightly open and still glistening she was, remembering the feel and taste of her in my mouth. I felt a familiar flicker in my lower belly.

“What?” I asked again, still seeing that expression, slightly taken aback, on her face.

“I just seduced a girl who still tells her mother ‘I love you’ before she goes to bed at night,” Sarah said with a small snort. “Wow. What was I thinking?” She shook her head at the fire.

And like that it was gone, the liminal space we’d been in since we both startled awake, that sleepy, not-quite-real place. I reached behind me onto her couch and pulled a blanket from the corner, slipping it over my shoulders.

“I should probably get my clothes and go home,” I said finally, not looking at her, drawing the blanket around me and pretending to shiver. The fire was too warm for me to really be cold. Finally, I couldn’t stand it, and turned slightly to see her. Her chin was resting on her knees and her eyes were warm and full of something I couldn’t quite grasp. Ok, fine, so she wasn’t going to say anything. I stood up, pulled the blanket around me, and went to step around her. She touched my thigh and I stopped, looking down the waterfall of blanket, seeing her arm disappearing at the wrist underneath it, feeling the warmth of her palm on my thigh, not grasping, not stroking, just a solid, gentle pressure that told me to stop. So I did.

“Elizabeth.” She breathed it, out and in. Like she was inhaling me with the sound of my name. My knees actually felt weak when I felt her fingertips move and shift slightly against the soft, sensitive skin of my inner thigh. She didn’t say what I wanted to hear. She didn’t say, I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings, that I implied that you are too young for me, that I might be saying I regret doing this. She didn’t say that, but she did.

She said, “I want you to stay in my bed tonight. Will you?”

I swallowed. Her eyes and mouth were soft, her hair a golden halo in the firelight. I just nodded. And she took me to her bed.

**************************************************

I couldn’t stop. Once we started, I just couldn’t stop. And I didn’t tell Tim. I tried, a few times, after one of our quick and fumbling encounters in the back of his Firebird, to tell him about the sweet and magical and amazing thing I’d discovered with Sarah. I loved Tim, he was kind and thoughtful and he tried very hard to please me, but we’d been having sex for over a year and I still hadn’t once had an orgasm in his presence. Since my relationship with Sarah began I had asked myself more than once if I might be gay instead of just bi… but my love for a hard cock, and more importantly, men, simply made that impossible. Still, I didn’t think of my relationship with Sarah as “cheating” on him… how could he possibly compete? It was like apples and oranges. Where he was hard, she was soft… there was just no comparison to be made. They gave me such different things. But I admit that it became problematic. Sarah wanted more and more of me, and I wanted to give her what she wanted. I couldn’t seem to say no to her, and all of a sudden I found myself doing and saying things that I’d never imagined myself doing or saying.

Like the time we spent all day sunbathing on her apartment roof. (I say we, it was really Sarah who was slowly turning a beautiful golden brown… I was slathered with sunscreen and sitting under an umbrella, my pale skin too sensitive to ever tan) Then we reclined in the hot August night talking for hours and we made love so long and so hard that neither of us cared when it started to rain and our moans were drowned out by the sound of storm. I couldn’t get enough of her, or she of me. I’d never had anything or anyone like Sarah before. The whole thing was intoxicating.

She asked me about my fantasies. No one had ever asked me that, and I actually told her… although I later discovered that the intensity and risk of my fantasies were a playful and innocent kitten to her sleek and stalking panther! She indulged my desires… to dress her up, like a living Barbie doll, in garter belts (oh, my fascination with straps!) and stockings, tight-cinched corsets and even crotchless panties. (The trip to the local “Lover’s Lane” for those started with a giggling girls shopping trip, but ended much more seriously with my tongue exploring her for hours past those ever dampening lacy edges.) And then, eventually, she asked me to indulge her fantasies. How could I say no?

It was almost a month before Sarah opened her toy chest and let me explore a side of my sexuality I wasn’t even aware existed. A month of slow exploration, of long days at work where I was afraid the sexual tension between us could be felt by everyone, and nights where I began to vocalize, moving from tiny kitten mews to shameless cries of pleasure. I was lost, and I was trying hard to keep up the pretenses with everyone, Tim, my mom, getting ready for college in the fall, but I really had abandoned them all for Sarah.

We spent part of one memorable night in the coffeehouse, where Sarah was reading some of her erotic poetry for open-mic night (and I couldn’t help but squirm a little in my seat when she read the one about our first time together… I just hoped it was dark enough that no one saw the slow heat spreading across my cheeks and down my chest and belly.) I don’t think I’d ever wanted her more (except maybe the first time we’d been together.) Her poetry made most of the audience breathless and I saw an older man near me surreptitiously rubbing himself through his jeans under the table. That made me even wetter, knowing he wanted her, that even in the dimness I could see the outline of his cock and knew how much he wanted to slide it into the sweetness that would be flooding all over my tongue in the space of an hour. I couldn’t believe how exciting it was to see her being desired and knowing that she was mine. We could barely wait until we could be alone. She had her hand up my skirt while she drove us back to her apartment, tugging at my panties and rubbing the moist fabric. She would periodically lift her fingers to my mouth to let me suck them. It reminded me of the dizzying taste and feel of her sex, and I moaned and squeezed my legs together around her hand. I don’t know how we made it back without getting into an accident.

It was that night that she opened the chest. She was watching me undress, laying naked already on her bed, when she said, “Lizzie, I have to show you something.” I stopped mid-button, curious. “Close your eyes.”

I obliged, standing at the end of the bed in nothing but my blue chambray shirt which was unbuttoned to my navel. She slipped a hand under my shirt and cupped my breast as she passed me, thumbing my nipple, and I shivered, feeling it harden immediately. I heard her fumbling around in the room, the air shifting as she walked past me to the far wall. A click, a deep creaking, the sound of Sarah kneeling.

“Open your eyes.” She was on her knees next to an open wooden chest, her legs slightly open, and her hands resting on her thighs. “My hope chest.” Her smile was mischievous and, indeed, hopeful. It looked exactly like an old hope chest, the kind my grandmother had passed on to my mother, but instead of knitted doilies and linen, this hope chest was full of prurience and supplication. I was transfixed by the contents, almost as if she’d opened a chest of gold. The scent of it alone was alluring, the heavy redolent smell of leather and something deeper, more fully and secretly human.

I slowly sank to my knees beside her and we were motionless for a while, I don’t know how long, as I explored the contents with my eyes and she watched me. I felt her gaze on me, and realized that I’d stopped breathing. I drew a deep and shaky breath and met her eyes. They were lustful and questioning and something else I’d never seen before and was a little afraid of. I told her so.

“Sarah, I… I’m a little scared.”

She nodded. “Yes.” It wasn’t so much an acknowledgement of my fear as an affirmation. She wanted this. And there was a part of me that simply couldn’t tell her no. She reached into the box without a word, and pulled out a black silk scarf. I will never forget her slipping it over my eyes that first time, tying it behind my head. “Can you see? Be honest.” Her voice had changed completely. It held element of confidence that I’d never heard before. It stopped my breath. I couldn’t speak, I just shook my head.

“When I ask you a question, I want you to say, ‘Yes, Sarah.’ or ‘No, Sarah.’ Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sarah.” It was easier than I thought it would be.

“Can you see, Elizabeth?”

“No, Sarah.”

“Good. Now stand up.” I struggled to my feet. It was strangely difficult without my sight. “Good girl… now take off your shirt.” I swallowed hard, managing the few remaining buttons, easing the shirt off my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. I felt unbelievably exposed and crossed my arms over my breasts. I couldn’t see anything, but I could feel her disapproval. “Ah Lizzie, you should see yourself,” she breathed and I felt her fingers brush lightly over my thighs. Then her voice changed again. “Put your hands behind your back,” she commanded. I was more reluctant now, but I did it.

“Spread your legs… farther… good.” Her hands roughly massaged between my legs, and I felt a cold rush of air when she spread my lips wide for a moment. I wondered if she was inspecting me. That’s what it felt like as her hands ran over my body, a little roughly at times, pushing my foot out a little further, turning my shoulder, tilting my head with her hand. “Mm… yes…” she breathed, her face close to mine now. I could feel the warmth of her and remembered how much I’d wanted her tonight. I still wanted her, but my desire seemed secondary to this new feeling in my belly. I had no idea what it was.

“Elizabeth, I don’t want you to move. Do you understand?” I nodded. I could tell she was waiting. “Elizabeth?” Then I remembered. “Yes, Sarah.” I said hastily. The hard sting of her hand on my bottom brought tears to my eyes, more from surprise than pain and I whimpered. “Don’t move.” I didn’t. She left the room, and still, I didn’t move. What was keeping me here? I wondered. I could walk away if I wanted to. Take off the blindfold, go lay on the bed, call Sarah back in, snuggle and make love and doze. I knew I could, and she would be ok with it. But this was appealing to me, even as it was strange and uncomfortable and a little humiliating. I could tell that it excited her. I could hear it in her voice, feel it in the new way she touched me. And I wanted more of that. So I stood still and I waited, legs spread, blindfolded, my hands behind my back.

My other senses seemed heightened without the use of my eyes. I could hear her moving around in the other room, going through drawers. She came back in and I stiffened slightly, trying to control my movement, even my breathing. I could smell the sulfur of a match being lit. The sound of her shuffling through the chest. In my mouth, the lingering taste of myself licked from her fingers. I swallowed.

“Find your way to the bed, and lay down.” The sound of her voice startled me. I made my way slowly, my knees hitting the edge before I crawled onto the bed. “On your belly,” she instructed. On my stomach, the sheets cool under my skin, suddenly very aware of the wet throbbing between my legs. Oh god, this was so exciting. I could almost feel her eyes on me. “Spread your legs.” I opened them.

She knelt behind me, spreading my legs even wider with her knees. “Up,” she said, putting her hand between my legs, cupping my sex, and lifting slightly. I raised my bottom in the air, my breasts still pressing into the bed, the blindfold shifting slightly when I turned my head. I wanted her to touch me. I wanted her hands, her mouth, her soft, skilled tongue. My thighs were trembling.

“Touch yourself,” she said. I reached between my legs and slid my fingers through my wetness, immediately heading for my aching little clit. “Open yourself for me.” I whimpered, spreading my lips with my fingers. “Good girl.” I heard her breathe in deeply, inhaling me. “Your pussy is very swollen, Elizabeth… and you’re wet all over… do you feel that?” She rubbed wetness into my thighs.

“Yes, Sarah.”

“I think you may be enjoying this… are you enjoying this, Elizabeth?”

“Yes, Sarah, oh yes.” I moaned, arching my back slightly. And it was true. I was beyond excited now. I was lost in some other world where lust was the only thing that existed. My want was enormous.

“Good,” she murmured. She suddenly seemed distracted. I used the muscles deep inside, squeezing, feeling the sensation in my throbbing clit. She chuckled. “Brat,” she said, when I felt her hand sting my bottom again, I yelped. “Tempting me?” she asked.

“Yes, Sarah,” I replied, feeling my cheeks flush. “Put your fingers in your pussy,” she said. I probed higher, finding that entrance, opening it for a moment, knowing she was watching, and then slid my fingers in deep. I heard her sharp intake of breath. “Finger yourself.” I did. Slowly at first, remembering how it felt to have a cock inside, so much bigger, harder, filling me. My fingers always seemed inadequate. But the motion, my fingers delving deep as I rocked, my thumb against my clit, made me moan and thrust harder. Sarah’s breath was coming faster. I wondered if she had her fingers in her own pussy and the thought spurred me on.

“Stop,” she said. I groaned, dropping my hand to the bed, my fingers soaking. I waited. The anticipation was exquisite. Finally, I felt her fingers, parting me, exploring the fleshy folds, finding my clit for a moment and rubbing, then back to my slit again, up and down slowly. It was driving me to distraction. “Your pussy is so beautiful, little one,” she whispered. I could feel her reverence. I nearly came the minute she leaned in and kissed my clit, sucking it gently into her mouth. Her tongue flickered over it for a moment, then slid up through the slippery folds to drink me in. I was moaning softly, pressing back against her, and she steadied me with her hands on my hips.

“I have a surprise for you,” she murmured, and I stiffened, unsure. “Relax,” she said, stroking my bottom and thighs. I could feel myself open up a little more. She slid a finger inside of me, then two, pumping in and out at an easy pace. I was just catching her rhythm when she slid it into me… big and hard, so much less pliant than a real cock, absolutely filling me.

“Oh my god!” I gasped. “Sarah!”

“Yes,” she murmured, easing it in deeper. “I’m going to fuck you, little one.” That’s when I realized that the hard cock inside of me was strapped around her waist, I could feel her thighs against mine, her hands grabbed my hips. It was all the way inside me now, as deep as it could go, almost uncomfortably huge and a bit unforgiving. She shifted her weight and the cock inside of me pressed against the smooth wall of my pussy, making me arch my back to meet her movement. “Now tell me,” she demanded.

“Tell you…?” I was breathless, unable to focus.

“Tell me you want it.”

“Oh god, yes, Sarah, I want it!”

“More?” she pressed in deeper, just when I thought it wasn’t possible. I bit my lip.

“Yessssss!” I hissed. She started easing away, taking the cock with her, and I panicked, “No, no, I want it, please, please!” I begged.

“What do you want, Elizabeth? Ask for what you want.”

“I…” now I was suddenly reticent, unable to say it. I whimpered. She pulled the cock further out, so just the tip was resting at the entrance of my pussy. “Nooo, please,” I whispered.

“Ask for what you want,” she repeated.

The silence stretched, and I found myself humbled, afraid to say the words, afraid of the power of my appetite and what it might say about me if I spoke it out loud. Her fingers slowly eased their way up from the cock, spreading the wetness through the crack of my ass, probing a little there, and I shivered.

“Please…” I pleaded.

“Yes,” she said. “Ask for what you want.”

“Ohhh god…” I trembled, so hungry. Her weight shifted, and I felt the tip of that big, hard cock start to move and I arched my back instinctively to keep it there. “Oh Sarah, please, fuck me, fuck me!” I begged, unabashed now, all thought gone, consumed completely with a deep longing to be filled.

Her thrust was her response, and it drove me down onto the bed. She was fucking me, my Sarah, with an enormous cock between her soft, supple thighs. She reached underneath me, to steady me, maybe, or for leverage, and also, I discovered, to find my clit with her fingers. She rubbed with a steady motion as she pushed into me, over and over. My nipples were hard on the bed, rubbing as she rocked me. My hair hung in my face, covering the blindfold, which now seemed like a relief, an excuse to stay inwardly focused on the overwhelming sensation.

“Tell me,” she said again, and this time I didn’t hesitate.

“Fuck me, Sarah, fuck me HARD!” And my voice had changed, become someone else’s as I felt my climax building. I realized in a moment of panic that I’d never cum with anything inside of me before.

“Harder?” she asked, pushing deep.

“Yes, yes, hard! Hard!” I gasped, feeling that deep tickle that I knew meant I was only moments away from flooding all over that cock.

“Cum for me,” she murmured, rubbing faster, god, exactly there, exactly right, pressing in deep and staying there as she worked my clit.

“Oooooh yes, Sarah, I’m cumming!” I gasped, the muscles of my pussy clamping down on that hard cock, buried to the hilt, meeting hard resistance. I spread my legs wider, letting her hand rock me and take me there, wave after delicious wave making me buck and moan.

She reached down further and cupped my mound, pressing, and I sighed, loving that she knew how good that felt, feeling my flesh pulse against her hand. She leaned back and slowly eased out of me. The difference was startling.

“Elizabeth,” she whispered, and her voice sounded almost shaky.

“Mmmm,” was my response, still lost. She reached behind my head and undid my blindfold.

“Elizabeth, roll over,” she said. I did. “Open your eyes.”

And my first sight was Sarah, oh my god, between my legs, all blonde hair and golden skin, with that huge (black!) cock strapped across her crotch! She saw it in my eyes and smiled. She made her way slowly up my body, until she was kneeling across my breasts, the cock resting there.

“You came so good,” she murmured, running her hand through my hair, brushing it away from my forehead, my cheeks. She took the cock in her hand, still wet with my juices, and rubbed it over my breasts, my nipples. Then she placed the tip of it on my lips. “Suck,” she instructed.

I took it, greedy, sucking my cum off that massive black cock. She watched me, her eyes hungry. She pressed in further, further, until I nearly choked on the length, as she watched it disappear into my mouth. Then she reached to her side and undid something, and the cock was gone. She moved further up, steadying herself on the headboard, spreading her thighs and moving her pussy directly over my mouth. My mouth was open, my tongue reaching in anticipation. Unexpectedly, she reached down and put her hand behind my neck, not so much settling herself onto my tongue as lifting my mouth to her pussy. I licked her eagerly, hungry and wanting to please her. She lifted up a little, so she was just out of my reach, my face already wet with her.

“Put your tongue out,” she demanded. I reached with my tongue. “Now… hold still.”

“Yes, Sarah,” I said, reaching my tongue out again, and a brief, satisfied smile flickered on her face before getting lost in lip-biting pleasure as she used my stiff, still tongue to bring herself to climax, rocking back and forth on my face. “Oh god, ohhhh fuck, Lizzieeeee,” she moaned, and I nearly drowned in her juices when she came, shuddering and pressing me hard against her pussy.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I murmured, rubbing my chin and cheeks over her wetness.

“Don’t move,” she breathed. Even in this moment of complete abandon, she was still in control. She moved off of me, taking the cock with her. “Close your eyes,” she instructed. I did as I was told, still seeing her kneeling above me with that hard cock, feeling her moist flesh in my mouth, lost completely in who and what she’d become to me. I could hear her doing something in the bathroom at the sink, then she came back into the room. More shuffling, the slow creak of the chest lid that I would come to know so well that my clit would throb in immediate Pavlovian response every time I heard it.

Then Sarah was back in bed, pulling me to her in the way we liked to lay, my head tucked in under her chin, resting on the softness of her breast.

“Cold?” she asked. I shook my head. I couldn’t have been more warm, all over.

“Does your mother know about the collection you have in your hope chest?” I asked coyly. She chuckled.

“You haven’t seen the half of it, sweetie.” She kissed my forehead. “But you will.” I shivered, and not from cold.

“Sarah…” I said after a moment. “You do like men, yes?” We’d had this discussion before. She nodded, her eyes closed, already drifting. I stopped, unable to go further, unsure. She sensed it and opened her eyes.

“Ask for what you want,” she said.

How to say it? I’d been thinking about the differences of being with Tim and Sarah, and I’d always thought that I would be one of those women who just wouldn’t ever have an orgasm with a man. Maybe I was too inhibited with them, or maybe it was just that Tim was so inexperienced, and often too interested in his own pleasure to notice mine. But now, after this…

“I’ve never cum with a cock inside me before,” I confessed. Her eyebrow went up but she didn’t say anything. I flushed. “I liked it.” A small smile. Encouraged, I said, “I really liked it… but really I don’t think I could do it without you.” Now both eyebrows were up and she was looking at me, bemused.

“Ask for what you want,” she said again, rubbing my jawline with her finger.

“I want to be with a man… with you,” I blurted, moving to tuck my head under her chin again, hiding. There were no words for a long time. Finally I had to inquire, “Sarah?”

“Not Tim,” she said definitely.

“No!” I was horrified. “Someone else… I don’t know who…”

Again, silence. I waited, hopeful.

“I can’t say no to you… and you know it,” she murmured, pulling me close.

“Does that mean yes?”

She touched my lips with her fingertip and then kissed me. “Yes,” she whispered.

I spent the whole night with her that night, which I couldn’t often do, and we slept snuggled together until the first bit of light started seeping between her blinds. I woke up once in the middle of the night and found her sleeping curled on her side, her face soft and relaxed, and tried to imagine sharing her with a man. Yes, I wanted it. But I also knew that you had to be careful what you wished for.


P.S. To the writers out there, I allow you to add chapters to my stories if you want to. I would love to see what you can do with these characters, and to see how you choose to develope them. If you do choose to write a chapter, I will record it and give you complete credit for it if i ever do use it some where else.