Why two ladies should have the right to be a couple

I usually don't get political in this vent. And I'm not going to start now. But last week the Supreme Court of the United States issued a landmark ruling that establishes a constitutional right to marry regardless of gender, so now same sex marriage is legal in all states. I have a dear friend who is a divorce lawyer (fluttering my eyes at the thought of whether or not my conduct has resulted in my friend getting more business), and his take on same sex marriage was always, "why shouldn't same sex couples have the right to be as miserable as everyone else when the marriage breaks up?" He says he has always been in favor of same sex marriage because it will then lead to same sex divorce.

So why am I writing about this if I said I'm not going to get political? Well, because I have included some lady on lady sex in my stories (and in my life, when the other lady is seriously HOT), and I just want you to know that I intend to keep doing so. If you like to hear about fun that I have with sexy women (ahem, I mean that I fantasize about with other women, as all of my blog stories are fictional for your reading pleasure only, of course), then please send me an email letting me know how hot it gets you. If you don't like to hear about my tongue teasing some agonizingly on the brink of exploding clitoris, well, you can always click over to my gallery and enjoy the pictures.

So I got a speeding ticket. And I asked a sexy lawyer I know from my gym what to do, and she looked over the ticket over a Smart Water after spin class and said, "I'm going to be at the courtroom on that date already, just find me, and if I can't get it dismissed I can get you into a pretrial diversion program so you won't get points on your license and your insurance won't go up." Sounded good to me.

My court date arrived and I wore a demure grey suit, skirt below my knees, maybe two inches of heel (considered wearing flats, but compromised with my inner desire to look so smoking hot I'd distract the judge and the prosecutor), white silk blouse, camisole underneath. I looked attractive, but like the professional that I am. No, not this profession. My daytime profession. Sheesh. Get your minds out of my pussy. But leave your tongues there. Okay, so I looked like the female lawyers. The good looking ones.

The tiny courtroom was standing room only, mostly unsavory types (I dare say that perhaps my lawyer and I were the only savory people in the room). And when I saw Megan, my lawyer friend from the gym, I realized I'd never seen her cleaned up before, but rather she's always been sweaty or about to get sweaty. Dolly has high standards. Megan easily made the grade.

Megan is a five foot six inch, slender, fit, brunette, blue eyes, hair to the middle of her back, flawless skin. She might be the sexiest non-tanned woman in South Florida, she apparently is either never in the sun or wears SPF 70 with a huge floppy hat. A short French manicure, a white linen suit, closed toes heels that were taller than mine making her legs look amazing, and I'd never noticed her calves before probably because of the yoga pants. Her wedding ring and engagement diamond are in a platinum setting, with sapphire accent stones that match her eyes. I guess I'd never noticed the rings before, but now that everything else about Megan was classed up, and she had a matching diamond and sapphire matching drop necklace and diamond and sapphire earrings, this time I noticed.

I might have been in the civilian world and facing the potential for a hefty fine, but my first thought was, "I'd hit that." Okay, I didn't think of it in exactly those terms, so I translated into "guy talk". But oh yeah, big time.

She took my hand to pull me close so she could speak directly into my ear so I could hear over the low roar of the gallery full of other defendants. And the jury box was full of the various and sundry police officers and sheriff's deputies who would be testifying today against anyone who chose to contest their tickets. So Megan was turning me on, while the presence of LE always gives me a bit of tension. So the nervousness that produced the slightest hint of perspiration on my forehead was accompanied by the excitement of Megan's touch that was inspiring my body to produce lubricating love fluids in my smoothly shaved kitty. Add hot breath in my ear...I so wanted to be with Megan at that moment. I let my lips brush her ear when I spoke back to her, and I'm not sure which of us noticed that we were still holding hands and instead of letting go, adjusted the grip and suddenly my fingers were interlocked with Megan's. Megan took a deep breath, very close in, and I'd worn just a hint of perfume so that only she would be close enough to detect it. She did detect it. I saw a look of bliss on her face. That' s how it makes me feel to wear it. She squeezed my hand just before letting go, and sauntered over to the prosecutor's table. What a great ass. And what a great lawyer -- she returned, told me that because I was clocked more than fifteen miles over the speed limit (okay, 91 in a 60, that's how I roll) they wouldn't dismiss based on my lack of prior tickets, but they'd knock it down to 73 in a 60, to get within the parameters for the diversion, which meant a $150 fine and to sign two pieces of paper saying I understood the DMV materials about safe driving. Which was much less than I'd have been fined and my insurance would have soared, too. Nice work, I took the offer in a heartbeat, and Megan pointed over to a window where I could pay and be on my way, and all this before the judge was even on the bench. "Let me buy you dinner," I suggested. "Make it drinks, my husband is driving the kids to his parents over in Sanibel and so it's just me and my Labradoodle at home this week. Vacation from mommy responsibilities! And from some wifely duties as well. I'll text you directions. Seven thirty?"

"Love to."

I had two Dolly dates that day, kind of a busy afternoon actually, one was a repeat and one was a new friend. I added magic to what sounded like some very plain vanilla lives based on the small talk (yes boys, I do listen. When getting intimate, I really do care about knowing the man I'm sharing my time with. And whatever else of mine I might choose to share as a consenting adult in private.). They left with smiles, and I had nicely stuffed envelopes. But the changing clothes opportunities let me spice up what I had on under my suit, dipping into some of the fun intimate wear.

I got Megan's text and arrived at 7:29 at her place. A shaded, tree lined driveway gave me privacy from the street. I'd stopped off and brought a bottle of Chardonnay with me, a nice selection my new friend the Chef had introduced me to. I already knew that Chardonnay went well with cock, I was hoping now to pair this bottle with female body parts of a more feline variety. When Megan opened the door I stepped inside, then after the door was closed spread my arms and declared, "my freedom giver, you kept me out of prison!" and kissed her cheek as I embraced. Wanted to see how Megan would respond.

She responded well, laughing and hugging back, breast to breast, still in her immaculate suit, heels...the only thing nearly as sexy as Megan was her home. "Wow, this is beautiful!" This was either entrepreneur successful or family money going on here, either Megan or her husband, but this wasn't from DUI and speeding tickets. "Thank you. And tonight its lady's night here -- no men or children allowed!" Our eyes met. A smile and a squeeze, And she felt the condensation of the chilled wine bottle in my hand so she released me, took the bottle, and said she'd be right back with glasses.

Professionally decorated, lots of cream, off-white, pewter tones. Luscious furniture, no "brown wood" furniture like traditional homes have. This was not Southern Living, this was Modern Design. Elegant. A huge oversized sectional, settee, and accent pieces arranged in a soaring ceiling great room that went from front to back of the house, and the back looked out onto lawn and a dock on the intracoastal waterway. The front shades were drawn, so even the private front yard did not look in on us. "Make yourself comfortable," she called from the open kitchen. She'd removed her jacket, and I only now realize that the bit of lace I saw wasn't a blouse, it was a bustier. Her shoulders and upper back were so sexy, and seeing Megan's arm's in action as she removed the cork, I loved her toned triceps. Feminine, classy, and oh so alluring.

She returned, and we sat closely, angled, each flashing leg from skirt slits, clinked glasses and toasted to victory. We never took our eyes off each other. I told her that her home was gorgeous and so was she in that bustier, and asked wasn't that very racy to wear to court. I made it a point to trace the edge of it with my fingertips, since being forward was entirely called for here on the unknown ground of "will the married trophy wife successful lawyer fit MILF want to fuck Dolly?" She grinned with just one half of her mouth in response to my touch and took another sip. "My suit hides most all of it, and I feel sexy when I dress like this underneath. And I do my best work when I feel sexy." I wondered if I could get her to turn pro in another job classification and do doubles with me, I swear, she'd be a hit at TER if she wanted to be. She certainly seemed to have the attitude.

"And you're one to talk, Miss Yoga fanatic and triathlete. You're sexy enough to make a lady switch teams." Megan touched my toned arms, stroked my skin, then ran her index finger up my leg over my calf to the hem of my skirt.

For the uninitiated, that was the "go" sign. I have been initiated. I didn't need to be invited twice.

We both leaned in, tilted our heads, and our lips met in silence confirmation of our mutual intent that ladies night meant... well, LADIES night! Her tongue was confident, but yielded to mine when the introductory DFK gave us a chance to assess each other's kissing style. I would lead, at least in the kissing department. But Megan was not passive and her hand went up leg, under my skirt, and she discovered the tops of my thigh highs that I'd put on. "I didn't notice these in court today," she said when we broke the kiss to breath. "After you invited me over I freshened up a bit for you" I told her. I left out the part about fucking two Dolly dates, sucking their cocks, taking one load in my mouth and another on my tits and generally using my men friends for my only sexual satisfaction. Good thing my brand of sexual greediness comes across as dedicated to my lover's pleasure (okay, I'm kidding on that one -- my own sexual pleasure is genuine when I'm with you men, but other than when we do direct focus on my pleasure points, the rest of my pleasure is a pure by-product of wanting you to have your most amazing sex and companionship EVER when you're with me). We let our hands roam over each other, and we were both in thongs, mine black, Megan's white, and her bare legs were ultra smooth. I'd left the satin camisole on, and my nipples were erect, and after more kissing and fingers pushing each other's thongs to the side to dip into each other's respective already drenched kitty, she pressed my fingers to my mouth, and then I started to return the favor then stopped, and pulled her fingers to my mouth. So I'd tasted both of us, and Megan opened her mouth in feigned hurt feelings. "Hey, I didn't get any!" "Darling, you didn't want second-hand Dolly. I want you to taste directly from the source." A wicked little grin and then Megan kissed me, trying to suck some of that second hand pussy off my lips. I closed my eyes. So sensual.

I lifted my arms as Megan removed my camisole, then my hips as she slip my thong down. I was on my back, and Megan went to a built-in cabinet near the back glass wall facing the water, opened up, and brought out a thick, lush oversized throw, and covered her sofa set. No need to allow our lady liquids to ruin such a great sitting area. She laid me down and then kissed me again, this time her tongue a bit stronger, then worked down my body, spending time at my breasts, sucking my nipples hard with frigging me down below with those beautiful hands of hers. Her pedicure was glossy black, a contrast from the French manicure. She maximized my flexibility, spreading my legs, throwing one up over the back of the couch, and showing what was unmistakably an experienced set of pussy eating skills. When I squirted she just smiled up at my, and I heard her say, " I knew it". She sat up, removed her bustier herself, brought my hands to her tits, and I wasn't shy about feeling her, tweaking her, stimulating the fuck out of her. She stood and I knelt, slid her thong down, and then gave a series of partial, slow, soft, introductory licks along her married slit. She had a well-trimmed patch in contrast to my completely bare grooming. Her fingers stroked and ran through my thick blonde hair. "Dolly...." she whispered. Just my name, every so often. A much more controlled expression, even her gasps were silent, though visually her face was so expressive. I'd panted, did a little dirty, "oh fuck, yes" and even invoked a couple "Oh God's" along my way to happy land. I loved the contrast, just like I loved the contrast of her fair skin to my tan and her dark brunette hair to my blonde hair. She was immaculate below, and my tongue visited all of her entries and exits. We worked our way to a sixty nine, and then traded top and bottom, and then I turned her around to face me, kiss me, let me lick my own sweet pussy from her lips and we positioned our well-licked, super slicked labia with each other and scissor'd and lady-fucked each other. I thought we were about to take a rest when she up and straddled my face, presenting her sexy pussy back to my mouth yet again, while astride my face, one leg bent between my body and the back of the sofa and the other leg straight, pointed wide, toward the floor where our feet had been when we first sat down. I reached up and played with her nipples. Again, just "Dolly .... Dolly ...." for her spoken approval. Her both shivered and stiffened and broke out in a thin sheen of perspiration when I brought her to a climax.

Then with a knowing grin Megan stood, extended her left hand to me while scooping up both wine glasses in the bowl of her right hand, and I loved the sight of her wedding and engagement ring set on her married hand reaching for me. She led me, still without speaking, down a hall to a well-appointed master bedroom. She had already done a turn-down of the sheets. Now standing and naked while belly to belly and nipple to nipple, My hands explored her body as we kissed in a closeness that exceeded all of the day's (and now evening's intimacy). She wanted to make love with me in her marital bed. With her wedding rings on. Hell yeah!

I did take a bit more of lead in the bed -- again, we swapped positions regularly, a sense of wanting to explore everything the other had to offer as a lover, and included in these sexual variations were some wrist pinning and control by having a firm grip on the other woman's hair. When I was on top of her, in what was otherwise a missionary position except for the noticeable lack of a cock, Megan wrapped her legs behind me, resting her feet on the back of my calves, her hand shifting from my D-cup full enhanced breasts to my own toned arms. I loved the feel of her arms, her back, her ass, her legs. I loved the look of being lost in lust that spread over Megan's face when I used my hand to touch her spot just right from the inside. I again loved the sparkle of the reflected moonlight off her wedding diamonds as she touched me with her left hand and brought me off. It was ten thirty when we simply nestled into each other's arms, legs intertwined, both perspiring and drained by the other and the more than a dozen orgasms each that we had enjoyed.

"So, you and your husband..." I began.

"He knows it is a part of my life. He doesn't know where, when, or who. Or the frequency. At least not at first. We have great lovemaking when I confess my infidelity with a woman to him while we have sex. One of our best lovemaking rituals."

"So you plan to tell him that you and I..." I blurted out, a tad concerned. Not to worry.

"No. No names when I tell him. You'll be "a client" and I'll describe your body and technique. That's all."

"Does he ever?" I started to ask.

"Join in?" she responded, cutting me off.

"No, well, maybe, but I was going to ask if he ever has other lovers?"

"You'll think this is awful, but Chad does his straying with an escort. Just one, just a few times. He knows plenty of men who do a lot of it, they call it hobbying--can you imagine, fucking as a hobby! (1. yes, I can imagine; 2. After what we just shared, I'm surprised you don't think of it as a hobby. This wasn't marriage, you and me, Megan, and it had to be way more fun than anything in your life that you would call a hobby. But she's at a disadvantage here talking about this to me, so I'll let it slide. Because I'd sure love to make time with her a regular hobby of mine.) That way it's no risk of emotional commitment, it is business, and she goes away and there is no unwanted contact afterward. Fewer complications, no one gets attached. And I love hearing about it when he tells me. He did some online research --they have their own websites and there are reviews and discussion boards --the one he's seen sounds like she should join us in the gym. He says she's like the sexiest fitness chick from a fitness competition, tanned beach beauty, and she craves sex, oozes sex. So he and I have a great sex life, and then he has her, too."

Wait a minute. Chad? "I thought your husband's name was Thomas? Mr. & Mrs. Thomas ...."

"Oh, his father was Thomas, he's a junior. Has always been called Chad, to avoid confusion, his middle name is Chadbourne.

Fuck. Chad from Miami, who I've seen on the other side of the state every so often, in Naples, when he hires my time for a special request and I fly there on a private jet, who tells me that he is sneaking down from Sanibel to see me from a family visit without his wife in Sanibel. I've had Dolly dates with Megan's husband more than just a couple times. He's handsome, and a good lover.

"And how do you feel about escorts, counselor?" I tried to hide my anxiety by teasing my beautiful lover's brown nipple.

"Oh, I see it in the law. These aren't hookers or street walkers like you see in a Julia Roberts movie or like they show on television. These are educated, beautiful ladies who have figured out the economics and can't duplicate the hourly rate in a straight job, or who do it on the side for the excitement and sexual pleasure and get paid nicely along the way. He sees this one very high end lady I told you about, she's very healthy and careful and clean. She's even helped him be a better lover for when he comes home to me. I guess I'd be annoyed at the money except that when he turned forty-five the balance of a trust established by his grandparents became his, which is where this way more than we need house came from too. (I was right, it was family money!). And I know he's not getting involved with anyone who might steal him away.

Who was going to steal anyone from Megan? She was gorgeous, sexy, sensuous, and as you can guess from her explanation to me, I like the way she thinks. She told me more.

"We've teased each other about him sharing her with me; or maybe someone else, there are so many gorgeous ladies right her in South Florida, but he says he prefers to only do it out of town, and just with her, says its for my protection. I've read the emails (She has!? Eeeek!) and he's not hiding an affair. I feel safe that he does his extramarital sex with her and her alone. He leaves the kids with his parents and he drives from Sanibel, about an hour, and I think he tells them he's playing golf. And sometimes he does play golf too, I know for sure."

I knew for sure, too. Once I had to abandon a blowjob when he realized we'd lost track of time and he had a tee-time at the Ritz Carlton course.

"Have you ever represented any escorts as their lawyer?" I asked, partly out of curiosity and partly because now I wondered if she should be my "one call' in the event all my precautions might ever fail me, which they never have.

"Yes. Why, interested in becoming one? -- Hey Dolly, no kidding, a lover like you who looks like you, you could make $500 an hour, I'm not kidding. I could introduce you to a few girls local to teach you the ropes."

I smiled. "So you think I'm worth $500 an hour?" I smiled and kissed her. "Maybe we could double up and ask for a thousand, you're amazing yourself." Oh how I wanted to tell her what my hourly rate really was.

"Well, I'm just saying you're sexy and fit and gorgeous and love sex and if you fuck a man anywhere near how amazingly you have sex with a woman, whatever the top ladies, get, that would be you." That was better. Chad knew my gift schedule. Not sure why that bothered me, but I managed to let it pass when Megan's fingers started to twiddle me again and she licked my nipples and playfully asked, "Now I do need to let the dog out one last time, but is there any chance you can stay over? Chad will be so amazed when I tell him about you. No names, of course."

And that's where my story ends. I hope maybe you enjoyed reading this and agree that two women being with each other is a beautiful thing. And if one of you charming gentlemen want to play with both me and one of my close sexy friends, we'll just have to see if that might be possible!

THE END

Purely fictional fantasy for your reading pleasure.

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