LITEROTICA PODCAST
LIT CAMS (200 Free Tokens)ADULT TOYSVOD MOVIES

Older women/younger girls - a lesbian picture/story thread

Status
Not open for further replies.
Just checking to make sure she has clean panties on... in case she gets hit by a car.
 
Earthly1 said:
Its a great photo, but If the younger girl on the left is the one leading/taking control, then I'm not convinced.
Click to expand...

Even though this scene is more like a romantic fun make out, what's always the most important factor in "taking control" is attitude. Niether age, nor body size. I can clearly see a very obedient submissive in that older lady.
only if the little one had enough self confidence.
 
Those cheesy over produced porn movies like above don't really do anything for me where they're looking at the camera and overdoing the oohs and aahhs etc. It's all too forced, (appreciate it's porn!) fake and unnatural.
 
laura4olderf said:
Those cheesy over produced porn movies like above don't really do anything for me where they're looking at the camera and overdoing the oohs and aahhs etc. It's all too forced, (appreciate it's porn!) fake and unnatural.
Click to expand...

I prefer homemade, amatuer porn too
 
laura4olderf said:
Those cheesy over produced porn movies like above don't really do anything for me where they're looking at the camera and overdoing the oohs and aahhs etc. It's all too forced, (appreciate it's porn!) fake and unnatural.
Click to expand...

Sort of 'eye of the beholder' -- I don't usually care for those either, but the one you referred above to 'felt' very intimate and tender. I particularly like it when the two women do a lot of kissing, the action is fairly measured and well paced. But they all do have an element of fakery as you point out. My problem is that I have to put out of my mind that there is a cameraperson in the room, an audio person, etc.
 

"Well now, this is unexpected," Karen said, more to herself than anyone else. She peered down at the kneeling girl - her prize, her victory - and pondered what on earth to do next.
She didn't even know the girl's name, she didn't even want to. It was enough to know that her lying, cheating, snake of an ex-husband had suffered when he lost her. Karen closed her eyes for a second and sighed, remembering the moment that she'd expressed her final demand during their lengthy and painful divorce negotiations.
Throughout the whole awful affair, she'd waited, biding her time, holding back until after the cruel division of his material possessions and the destruction of his empire was complete, until the moment after every one of her demands had been satisfied and he'd dared to hope that they were nearly done. Then she'd played her winning card.
"There's one more thing I want," she'd purred. Her lawyer turned to her, flashing her a quizzical look. This wasn't in the script.
Her ex-husband had looked up from his papers, ashen faced, mentally exhausted, his sagging features gripped with the sorry look of a beaten animal. "What else?" he said with a pathetic tone that almost made her feel sorry for him. But not quite.
Karen leaned forward and reached into her jacket pocket, sliding out a simple black and white photograph. It was the photograph she'd found in his briefcase, the photograph that had set her on the path of discovery and the revelation of his betrayal, it was the photograph that had woken her up from her own docile slumber. The photograph of the girl.
She flipped it over onto the table and relished his shocked sigh.
"I want to take her from you," she said simply, studying his face, watching his world fall apart. "I want you to never see her again."
"No, you can't..."
"I can and I will. Either you play ball and give up the little slut that you seem so captivated by, or I'll tell the world all about you and your disgusting appetites. I'll tell them about the things you do to the young men in your congregation, to the young girls in the towns you visit. I'll tell them about the drugs and the parties, about the infidelity and the sin... I'll tell them everything. I'll ruin you." She paused, letting the full weight of her threat sink in. His lawyer was red-faced and frantic, spluttering about how improper this was, how outrageous. Karen's own lawyer simply looked on with an expression of simple amusement. "But it doesn't have to be like that," she continued, "and this girl is the price of my silence." She reached forward and tapped the photograph with a single slender finger.
It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only last week. Karen shuddered at the memory, once again experiencing the thrill of victory. She hadn't quite imagined that it would turn out like this though. She hadn't expected to ever meet the girl that had destroyed her marriage. This girl who was much younger than Karen had thought, barely out of high school. Young enough to be Karen's daughter in fact.
"Do you know why I'm here?" said Karen, intrigued and nervous in equal measure. "Do you realize that I own this apartment now?"
"Yes, Miss," said the girl. Her voice was light and melodic, a hint of trepidation, but otherwise quite unperturbed by Karen's presence.
The girl had been waiting in Karen's ex-husband's apartment in the city, the one that he had so reluctantly turned over to her. She'd found her in the living room, half naked, kneeling on the floor with her arms cuffed behind her back.
"Did my former husband explain the situation to you?"
A note of sadness flickered in the girl's crystal blue eyes, a haunted look of regret that was gone in an instant. "Yes, Miss. He explained that I belong to you now."
"Belong?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"Miss?"
Karen shook her head and gathered her thoughts, struggling to parse what the girl had said. "Did you belong to my husband?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Why?"
"He bought me."
Karen raised an eyebrow. She knew that her husband had unconventional appetites, but how far did that go? Just how many girls were there like this one? She cast her mind back to the divorce hearing, remembering her words, her final demand. How could he have possibly thought she meant this?
She leaned forward, feeling strangely warm and a little bit dizzy. She hadn't expected to ever meet the girl. She'd hoped that she would be distraught, emotional, as devastated as her ex-husband had been. But she wasn't. Far from seeming emotionally devastated, she seemed almost calm. Not quite resigned, more contented.
"What does it mean... that you belong to me?"
"Miss?"
"You said you belong to me, but what does that mean?"
Karen's mind was racing forward at a thousand miles a second.
The girl peered up at her, doe-eyed and confused. She looked bewildered by the question. "It means I'm yours, Miss. You can do what you want to me. You can have me do whatever you want to you. You own me, my body and my mind. I am your toy, your doll."
Karen sighed, feeling a light shiver run down the length of her spine. The situation was getting stranger by the second. Karen felt out of her depth, uncertain, almost as though her victory had been wrenched from her grasp.
"I'm not..." she started, unsure of what to say. "I've never... been with a woman before," she sputtered, as if that explained everything.
"Me neither, Miss," said the girl.
Karen reached forward and gently touched her thumb to the girl's cherry red lips. A minor trespass, a testing of boundaries. The girl sighed and leaned forward. More a puppy than a person, Karen thought. She felt a strange presence in the pit of her stomach, a nagging demand that seemed unfamiliar and insistent.
"And you'll do... anything?"
"Anything, Miss."
"Then, perhaps..." started Karen, pausing as she tried to let her racing thoughts settle.
"Miss?"
"Perhaps we can learn together?"
The girl smiled, a radiant sunbeam the ignited bursts of white fire throughout Karen's body. "I'd like that, Miss."
Karen nodded and stood, feeling suddenly very sure of herself, suddenly certain of what her final victory over her sleazy husband might actually entail. To her surprise, the thought thrilled her.
Maybe divorce wouldn't be so bad after all, thought Karen, as she led the girl on all fours into the bedroom and a whole world of new possibilities.
 
Ellaford that is great, really enjoyed reading that.

I hope you're not too upset that I, and others, have posted in your thread; I've tried to keep mine classy, befitting this classy thread, but If I could remove them I would.
 

Kim had never been on a date quite like this. The outfit she wore was not of her own design. It had been chosen instead by her date, specified in an impossibly neat, handwritten note delivered directly to her office desk. The note had detailed, down to the smallest attribute, exactly what she should wear and how she should wear it. From the style of her hair to the particular brand and shade of pantyhose. The tone of the note had suggested that this was not a request, but a requirement.

Honestly, if she'd gotten the note from a guy, she would have ripped it in two and told the pervert where he could go, probably giggling about her lucky escape with her girlfriends later on.

But it was not from a guy. It was from another woman. A strange, confident, older woman. One that she barely knew but nevertheless felt an unfathomable attraction to. Now, as Kim sat in the hotel lobby waiting for her date to arrive, she mused on how readily she'd accepted the woman's demands, submitting to her whims with barely a single thought. And, while her blank capitulation still surprised her, shocked her even, there was one further detail that surprised her somehow even more...

And that was how much she'd liked it.
 
Last edited:
EllaFord said:

Kim had never been on a date quite like this. The outfit she wore was not of her own design. It had been chosen instead by her date, specified in an impossibly neat, handwritten note delivered directly to her office desk. The note had detailed, down to the smallest attribute, exactly what she should wear and how she should wear it. From the style of her hair to the particular brand and shade of pantyhose. The tone of the note had suggested that this was not a request, but a requirement.

Honestly, if she'd gotten the note from a guy, she would have ripped it in two and told the pervert where he could go, probably giggling about her lucky escape with her girlfriends later on.

But it was not from a guy. It was from another woman. A strange, confident, older woman. One that she barely knew but nevertheless felt an unfathomable attraction to. Now, as Kim sat in the hotel lobby waiting for her date to arrive, she mused on how readily she'd accepted the woman's demands, submitting to her whims with barely a single thought. And, while her blank capitulation still surprised her, shocked her even, there was one further detail that surprised her somehow even more...

And that was how much she'd liked it.
Click to expand...

Nice :heart:
 
this is amazing, i just pictured this whole scenario and it made me instatntly hot and bothered...


EllaFord said:

Kim had never been on a date quite like this. The outfit she wore was not of her own design. It had been chosen instead by her date, specified in an impossibly neat, handwritten note delivered directly to her office desk. The note had detailed, down to the smallest attribute, exactly what she should wear and how she should wear it. From the style of her hair to the particular brand and shade of pantyhose. The tone of the note had suggested that this was not a request, but a requirement.

Honestly, if she'd gotten the note from a guy, she would have ripped it in two and told the pervert where he could go, probably giggling about her lucky escape with her girlfriends later on.

But it was not from a guy. It was from another woman. A strange, confident, older woman. One that she barely knew but nevertheless felt an unfathomable attraction to. Now, as Kim sat in the hotel lobby waiting for her date to arrive, she mused on how readily she'd accepted the woman's demands, submitting to her whims with barely a single thought. And, while her blank capitulation still surprised her, shocked her even, there was one further detail that surprised her somehow even more...

And that was how much she'd liked it.
Click to expand...
 

Her Christmas card went out in mid-December, bang on time.
On the face of it, the card painted a cozy festive scene - Julia and a young companion (a neice perhaps, or a stepdaughter?) curled up before a sparkling Christmas tree. Julia knew that most of the card's recipients would take one look at it, then set it aside, perhaps chuckling at her self-absorbed arrogance and the camp stupidity of the card.
But those who dismissed it out of hand were not the true audience, and a cozy Christmas scene was not its true message. Instead, Julia had created the card with a specific group of people in mind.
It was created for those people that had ridiculed her sexual preferences, the group of people that had called her a freak or a pervert for her unconventional appetites. It was created for her accusers, for those that had sullied her good name, concocted grotesque rumours to prise the girl from her grasp, to destroy their fledgling relationship by taking her job or her home or her friends.
And the message that the card intended to convey to those familiar enough with the couple to realize it? Well, it was simple.
"She is mine. She belongs to me. Despite all of your efforts, all of your schemes, all of your futile betrayals, she is still my willing pet. I own her body and her mind, she exists only to give me pleasure. So, while you are tucking into your Christmas turkey, I will be enjoying her sweet, young pussy and she will be enjoying mine; while you are singing Christmas carols, she will be screaming out my name and begging me to let her come; while you are wrapping your trivial gifts, I will be tying her body and binding her eyes, preparing her for ecstasies that you can only dream of. Merry Christmas."
 
EllaFord said:

Her Christmas card went out in mid-December, bang on time.
On the face of it, the card painted a cozy festive scene - Julia and a young companion (a neice perhaps, or a stepdaughter?) curled up before a sparkling Christmas tree. Julia knew that most of the card's recipients would take one look at it, then set it aside, perhaps chuckling at her self-absorbed arrogance and the camp stupidity of the card.
But those who dismissed it out of hand were not the true audience, and a cozy Christmas scene was not its true message. Instead, Julia had created the card with a specific group of people in mind.
It was created for those people that had ridiculed her sexual preferences, the group of people that had called her a freak or a pervert for her unconventional appetites. It was created for her accusers, for those that had sullied her good name, concocted grotesque rumours to prise the girl from her grasp, to destroy their fledgling relationship by taking her job or her home or her friends.
And the message that the card intended to convey to those familiar enough with the couple to realize it? Well, it was simple.
"She is mine. She belongs to me. Despite all of your efforts, all of your schemes, all of your futile betrayals, she is still my willing pet. I own her body and her mind, she exists only to give me pleasure. So, while you are tucking into your Christmas turkey, I will be enjoying her sweet, young pussy and she will be enjoying mine; while you are singing Christmas carols, she will be screaming out my name and begging me to let her come; while you are wrapping your trivial gifts, I will be tying her body and binding her eyes, preparing her for ecstasies that you can only dream of. Merry Christmas."
Click to expand...

I so love your writing :heart: so evocative ..
 
vaery naughty idea.. i wonder if anyone has done somehing like this... would love to be in that card

EllaFord said:

Her Christmas card went out in mid-December, bang on time.
On the face of it, the card painted a cozy festive scene - Julia and a young companion (a neice perhaps, or a stepdaughter?) curled up before a sparkling Christmas tree. Julia knew that most of the card's recipients would take one look at it, then set it aside, perhaps chuckling at her self-absorbed arrogance and the camp stupidity of the card.
But those who dismissed it out of hand were not the true audience, and a cozy Christmas scene was not its true message. Instead, Julia had created the card with a specific group of people in mind.
It was created for those people that had ridiculed her sexual preferences, the group of people that had called her a freak or a pervert for her unconventional appetites. It was created for her accusers, for those that had sullied her good name, concocted grotesque rumours to prise the girl from her grasp, to destroy their fledgling relationship by taking her job or her home or her friends.
And the message that the card intended to convey to those familiar enough with the couple to realize it? Well, it was simple.
"She is mine. She belongs to me. Despite all of your efforts, all of your schemes, all of your futile betrayals, she is still my willing pet. I own her body and her mind, she exists only to give me pleasure. So, while you are tucking into your Christmas turkey, I will be enjoying her sweet, young pussy and she will be enjoying mine; while you are singing Christmas carols, she will be screaming out my name and begging me to let her come; while you are wrapping your trivial gifts, I will be tying her body and binding her eyes, preparing her for ecstasies that you can only dream of. Merry Christmas."
Click to expand...
 
Status
Not open for further replies.

Similar threads

E
Pussy juice and man milk
Replies
9
Views
747
dingdongditchding
D
B
Big Changes
Replies
2
Views
333
Milo9012
Milo9012
neon_noodle
Married couples should have a live in Sissy
2
Replies
48
Views
2K
FeelingLikeMyself
FeelingLikeMyself
ziggyjones44
Story idea settling.....
Replies
5
Views
127
Cabeza
C
richgo50
Anal scent
Replies
15
Views
831
fma20fma
fma20fma
Back
Top