Lust Unleashed - Erotic Fiction

Really old render, I know :D But it's the only one I had of Bree and Taylor in short term that I could use lol. They're doing the starring sex scene in this chapter. But first, let me elaborate:

Last January I last posted a piece of written fiction. I wanted to follow that up with a sequel chapter somewhere around March, because it was intended to be the start of a storyline, but truth be told I was simply too shy to do it lol.

That said, the storyline I've created for this is really, really good, so it's worth exploring more. Cornholio encouraged me to post stuff whenever I write stuff, so I figured let's just do it. Between working on renders, I spent the last week going over what I'd already written and basically rewrote the whole thing, but the essential events of what I had in the initial version have remained. So I think this is something I'm happy to publish at least for you guys.

That said, it's unedited. So how I see it is that I use Patreon to share this, and whatever imperfections and pace issues are in there can be worked through as people notice them, so that eventually I can publish the whole thing as a novel.

I really hope you guys enjoy it. I had a lot of fun writing it. The idea here is simple: it's equal parts erotica, equal parts real, functional story. So I take it seriously in terms of detail and research for the parts that are not necessarily pornographic.

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For once it was calm on the I-66. Unusual, especially for a friday night, when Washington D.C. emptied and federal employees flooded the roads on their way home. The unexpected calm resurfaced Sarah’s love for driving, even on a commute that had become routine. Lights rushed past as she drove a steady 70, keeping exactly to the speed limit. As a sitting U.S senator, she had always wanted to set a good example. As a U.S. senator running for re-election, her record had to be unimpeachable.

And she had enough trouble with that as it was.

She was on her way to South Riding, a residential enclave just south of Dulles International Airport. It was, in times of calm, her main place of residence. These days, she spent more time in her D.C. apartment in the vicinity of Capitol Hill, working long hours reading legislation, making donor calls, and keeping busy as a member of the Senate Subcommittee on Space and Science.

Driving through the outskirts of Arlington, her phone rang. Her dashboard screen read Madison Whitford, accompanied by a selfie of a pretty brunette, mid-30’s, at some political convention somewhere. With a snap of her fingers, Sarah put it on speaker. “If it isn't my favorite campaign manager."

“Hey, Sarah. You anywhere near a screen?”

“Will be shortly, why?”

“Our friends are running ads again. Just saw the latest one.”

“Friends,” Sarah huffed. “What do they say this time?”

“You know, the usual. Ron LeMay bad, Sarah Marshall good. Not that explicitly, but it's the gist of it. They don't name you at all, actually, so maybe that's progress. But obviously if they’re hitting our opposition that only helps us. Not gonna lie, I’ve been thinking we should reconsider our position.”

Sarah shook her head, a gesture only for herself. “I’m not reconsidering.”

“They’re spending money we don’t have to spend ourselves, Sarah.”

“No,” Sarah insisted. “Nothing in life is free. If they can make us, they can ruin us too.”

“So what do you propose?”

“I’m not sure. We’re not allowed to tell them to stop.”

She switched her car to autopilot and reclined her chair a few degrees, pinching her brow as she leaned back. This had been an issue for some time now. Her re-election bid had received support from an independent organization called Innovation for America, a group of dark money contributors with a seemingly tech-positive attitude. 

Thing was, the money wasn’t that dark, and it almost seemed like the people in charge didn’t want the layers of obfuscation to be too thick either. Usually, big dollar donors went out of their way to avoid public scrutiny, so in this case Sarah couldn’t help but assume that the trail of breadcrumbs, if not outright slices, was intended mostly for her.

One of the group’s main figureheads was a British-American woman called Jordan Tyrell, a billionaire investor with a broad portfolio in which one company in particular stood out. It was a company in which she had a plurality of shares, and a company that had, in the last few years, made a notable mark on public life in North America: Carter Industries.

Carter were half the reason why Sarah saw what she saw when she looked in the mirror: a woman in her mid 40’s dolled up like a social media phenom in her late 20’s. There were aesthetic traces of the professional female politician, of course: the blue blazer, the white blouse, the medium-length blonde coupe. But the overall pantsuit had made way for a pencil skirt riding above the knees, pronounced cleavage, and a shade of understated pink lip gloss that very much suggested something other than business.

Kayla Carter had sold women the dream of perfection, which meant it had become fashion overnight. To look any other way in this day and age was to present yourself as an outdated prude. Maybe back when the baby-boomers were still a viable voting block, Sarah would’ve had options, but they were on the cusp of dying out. A gen-z’er like herself had no choice but to play the game of looks insofar as it was required of her. But there was nothing that would ever make her endorse it. Which meant that taking Carter money, whether directly or indirectly, made her a hypocrite.

Exit 67 rolled by, not hers yet. A slight drizzle began to develop on the windshield. Her wipers kicked in. That was when it hit her: “They want to bait a response out of me,” Sarah said. “It’s a quid pro quo without telling me what the quo is, so they assume I’ll come and ask.”

“What do you think it might be?

Sarah shrugged. “Palo Alto’s not in Virginia, last I checked.”

“Oversight, then?”

“Maybe. Committee assignments come and go. This is something else. I’ll do some thinking on it, Maddie. Thanks for giving me a heads up.”

“Any time. Seeya on monday.”

Sarah nodded. “You know it,” she said, and with that waved her hand right to end the connection. The patter of rain intensified. Her windshield wipers began to more hurriedly move from left to right. Exit 64, now. Still not hers, but getting closer. 

Kayla Carter and her sexual revolution. More like a slow crawl than a revolution, if Sarah was being honest, but slow and steady won the race. Just recently, the billionaire seductress had made an appearance on 60 Minutes. Maybe it was a good idea to sit down and watch that. Probably was something subliminal to catch.

That this whole thing boiled down to a help-me-help-you scenario was the obvious conclusion, it was just a matter of what with. Sarah wasn't particularly susceptible to selling the dignity of her office out to what amounted to little more than an assembly line for internet sluts.

Speaking of.

“Call Breanna,” she said, angling towards the microphone in the ceiling. The car’s ambient lighting switched to orange, a color she had always closely associated with home and family. Which, for all her daughter’s flaws, she still was. The phone rang, and rang.

“C’mon, Bree”, Sarah muttered. Good odds she was out the house, getting railed by some quarterback. Not that Sarah could blame her daughter, she understood raging hormones all to well. Just wasn’t always easy to balance the desires of adolescent women out against the reputation of a sitting senator.

The phone rang a third time, then a fourth. No luck, it seemed, until…

“Hey, mom!” Breanna answered, her voice slightly raspy and out of breath.

“Hi honey,” Sarah said, chastising herself meanwhile for thinking the least of her. “Just calling to tell you I’ll be home in like 15 minutes. Coming up on exit 57 soon, and traffic’s easy. Wanna hang out, catch up?”

“You’re not staying in DC?”

Sarah frowned. “Wow, don’t get too excited.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m not… yeah, we can catch up.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. See you soon!”

“See you soon, honey.”

As she hung up, a voice in Sarah’s head told her a truth.

And just like that, she silenced it.

----------------------------------------------------

“Fuck, she’s here soon. Ten minutes, tops,” Breanna said between breaths, as she tossed her phone onto the bed. She stood with her back against the wall to regain herself from the ungodly level of pussy-eating she'd just been subjected to. But they weren't done yet, it seemed. Taylor grabbed her waist with both hands and turned her around, pressing Bree’s breasts against the wall.

“We’ll just have to make it work, won’t we?” Taylor said. She held a girthy, eight-inch pink dildo in her left hand, sucking on it while she held Breanna by her shoulder with her right, keeping her in place.

Breanna jutted her ass out and spread her legs, giving Taylor easy access. With her back arched the way it was, she could feel the tip of her long blonde ponytail touch the curvature of her ass before falling off the side. Taylor gently traced the dildo down the small of her back, down her ass, and past her asshole to her pussy.

“Do you want this cock, slut?”

“Uhuh,” Breanna whimpered..

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it so fucking bad.”

Taylor leaned in closer to Breanna’s ear. “You’re not gonna be able to walk after this.”

“I… I don’t care.”

“Good slut.”

Breanna felt her pussy spread, and the sensation of being filled up caused her eyes to roll back as she breathed heavily. “Fuck yeah, baby.”

“This is good dick, isn’t it?”

“It’s such good dick, baby.”

Taylor moved her right hand off Breanna’s neck and took hold of the dildo with it, then moved to stand on Bree’s other side and placed her left hand on her neck instead. Slowly, steadily, she began to move the toy in out. A gentle pace, so Bree could feel each fake vein and each ribble articulate against her labia. Then faster, deeper, and faster still. God, this chick knew how to fuck a girl with a fake cock.

Bree began to counter-thrust, knowing how much the motion would arouse Taylor too. Her narrow waist guided the eye towards the most exquisite heart-shaped ass, so soft and so exceedingly feminine. From there, a pair of long, stately legs made all the more beautiful by Zenith therapy, and a pair of delicate feet adorned in beautiful pink platform heels, all worked together to emphasize such a tight, delicious pussy.

It was as much a pleasure to have a cock get stuck into, as it was to be the one sticking it in, real or otherwise. Especially if the one sticking it in was Taylor, because the two girls had bodies that were so much alike that it easy for either one to imagine themselves in place of the other, and to transplant their sensations into their own minds. It was a perfect symbiosis, where sexual narcissism was triggered by physical similarity, and each of them got out of the other the same thing they got out of looking at themselves: pure, unadulterated lust.

Breanna moaned louder and louder, all too aware that the minutes were rolling by and that the house was not so well-isolated that her moans from the bedroom couldn’t be heard down below. But she hadn’t heard anyone enter the house yet, so for now Taylor was free to do as she pleased.

“Are you cumming, baby?” Taylor asked.

Biting on her lower lip, Breanna nodded, her brow furrowed. “Yeah,” she panted. It was hard to express more when the mental image she had of herself being fucked against the wall like this, Taylor’s tattoo’d arm driving the dildo frantically in and out, was pushing her over the edge.

Taylor lowered to her knees to get a better angle to thrust. This brought her face even with Breanna’s thighs, and she ran her left hand now from Breanna’s knee up towards her inner thigh and towards her pussy. Shifting onto her lower abdomen, Taylor moved one hand towards Breanna’s clit as she plunged the dildo in and out, now standing up again with her ass facing the same wall Bree’s tits were pressed against, to have an overhead view.

“God, you should see how your pussy grips this thing,” she said. “So fucking tight.”

“Uhuh!” Bree exclaimed.

In and out, in and out. Her brain felt like it did a judo roll while her body remained in place. Taylor rubbed her clit intensely, and the dildo’s motion was now beginning to elicit a sensation that radiated from her pussy out towards her legs and caused her knees to buckle.

“That’s right baby,” Taylor said. “Just a bit longer!”

Downstairs, a key unlatched a lock. It was the faintest of sounds but it was so innately familiar to Breanna that it penetrated all the ecstasy she was now experiencing. “Time… time’s up,” she uttered with the greatest effort.

“But we’re not done yet,” Taylor insisted. With a yank she pulled the dildo out and tossed Breanna onto the bed on her stomach, spreading her legs along the bed’s edge to perfectly expose Breanna’s dripping pussy.

“I’m home!” Sarah Marshall called from down below. “Bree?”

Breanna’s mind raced with what might happened if her mother made her way up the stairs now. Taylor had no intention of letting up, and with her tongue buried deep between Breanna’s pussy lips, she was being eaten out with an urgency as though this was the last bit of cunnilingus a woman would ever experience on planet Earth.

And then it happened.

The orgasm.

Breanna’s fingers clenched around the bedsheets firmly, but before she could utter a single moan Taylor had already jumped on top of her and closed her hand over her mouth. Then, the steady clack of heels on the stairs leading up. “You there, Bree?”

“I’m here!”, Bree shouted, ripping Taylor’s hand off. “Be down in a moment!”

It didn’t deter the footsteps.

With panic, Breanna looked at Taylor. She pushed her away from sitting on top of her with a big shove, and shot towards closet to rip out the first pair of panties she could find. Her mother had now reached the top of the stairs, and was navigating the corridor towards Breanna’s bedroom. Hurriedly trying to clasp on a bra, Bree realized that slipping on a loose-fitting shirt was probably the better idea. Taylor, meanwhile, had worked herself into the pair of ripped jeans she had worn coming in, but didn’t seem to be in a great rush to dress up otherwise.

Then, a hand on the door handle, and time was out.

Sarah Marshall stepped in to find two gorgeous twenty-somethings in a state of semi-undress, her own daughter panicking as she was trying to find something to cover her chest, the other girl with her grinning ear to ear as though she relished being caught in something that was clearly, exactly what one would think it was. Because if the clothes didn’t scream that they’d just been butt-naked together, the soaking wet dildo glistening under the bedroom light, did.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Sarah exclaimed, her gaze locked on the sex toy.

“Hi, Ms. Marshall,” Taylor said, adding in a nonchalant little wave.

Sarah, wide-eyed and clearly at a loss for words, looked at her daughter. “Who is that?”

With clenched teeth and her heart racing, Breanna understood that there was nothing left to her but honesty. It was time to confess what she’d been trying to hide.

“Hi mom,” she said. “This is Taylor. I uhm… I think I’m into girls.”