A quick story for the road!
You stomp through the rain to the rickety wooden porch. Of course your rental car would die right after your phone ran out of battery. Through the downpour you can see a few amber lights shining through the windows.
They have power, whoever lives here. You should be able to sweet talk your way in so you can charge your phone.
The floorboards creak as you step up to the carved oak door and bang on the brass knocker. To your relief, you hear the rusty click of a latch and the door swings open. Standing behind it is a young woman with red hair and fair skin dressed in a wine-red corset and flowing gown. The corset accentuates her hourglass figure and you try not to stare at her round breasts poking over the top. You glance at her face. Her misty eyes stare back at you.
You explain your situation and she smiles warmly and shows you in. You follow, your gait matching the rhythm of her swinging hips. The hallway is narrow and coated with oval framed pictures of regal ladies from years ago. You feel their eyes watching you as your host continues to lead you deeper down the hall.
She shows you to a small waiting room, half submerged in shadows. She offers you a padded chair next to richly embroidered couch and mahogany coffee table. You take a seat, asking if there’s a place you could charge your phone. The woman only shushes you and places a tray with a teapot and cups on the table and then lights a candle.
“The power’s on a generator,” she explains. “I will need to start it first. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
You turn back to the table only then realizing that someone is watching you from the couch.
“Would you like some tea?” comes a lilting voice. Another woman, this one tousled blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. She’s thin and delicate, dressed in a white Victorian era dress. She smiles invitingly at you. Her lips are painted black.
Without losing her gaze on you, she pours a cup of steaming tea, offering you the teacup on a porcelain saucer.
“Drink the tea,” she softly urges.
You hesitate. Something doesn’t feel right. The way this woman is staring at you is both disturbing but also compelling. You watch the swirls of the steam as they drift in front of her face. You shouldn’t accept drinks from strangers, that’s obvious. But her eyes keep coaxing you to take a sip.
“Have some tea, darling,” a voice says from behind you. It’s the woman who let you in, her hands gently resting on your shoulders from behind your chair. “It will help you relax.”
Before you can answer, her hands begin dancing and rubbing down your shoulders. Hours of stressful driving pour off you. Your gaze stays captivated by the blond woman’s eyes in front of you as she wafts the tea under your face.
“The tea will calm you,” the red head says. “It will make everything feel so warm and loose. Drink the tea, sweetie.”
Her hands pull back your head and you feel two warm, fleshy pillows cushion the back of your neck. The woman holds you in her silky cleavage as her nails gently scratch over your scalp.
You don’t want to be impolite. You cautiously take the tea from the woman on the couch and sip. Rich, warm flavor floods your mouth and seeps down your throat.
The red head is raking her hands through your hair, rolling her tits around the sides of your face. You smile. It was such yummy tea. You’re going to have another sip.
Soon the cup is empty and you’re feeling good. You feel calm, tranquil. You lean back, content to let the buxom red head press her chest into your head. She’s cooing words to you. Words you don’t need to worry about. Words you can just listen to.
The blonde woman slides down to the floor. Soon you feel a silky hand with long slender fingers reaching down your pants. Finding all the right spots between your legs.
You sigh dreamily and surrender yourself to the mercy of the two strange women.
areudirty
titsay
romaincrisis
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