Dominated by Her Stepdaughter, Chapter 81

Carla helped Annabel up and they headed toward the bar to look for water. Amira had now sunk back against her chair with her eyes closed and Loren’s head gripped between her powerful thighs. Loren was using her thumb and tongue to try to coax an orgasm out of her lover as Amira muttered, “Jesus ... motherfuck...” and then trailed off into a series of incoherent moans and groans.

Finally Amira released Loren and she sat up, looking over somewhat sheepishly at Kim, who was watching with a bemused expression. Loren wiped the back of a hand across her mouth and took a deep breath; she had been working hard. Carla offered her water, which she gratefully accepted.

Moving slowly and unhurriedly, Carla and Annabel began to get dressed, and Loren and Amira soon followed. After exchanging phone numbers they bid each other goodnight, hugged and kissed. Loren and Amira stayed behind to close up as Carla and Annabel followed Kim to her car.

They drove back to Carla’s house mostly without talking, listening to dub reggae on a college radio station. After dropping Carla and Annabel off, Kim blew them a kiss and headed home.

They both needed badly to pee, so Annabel went into the downstairs bathroom while Carla headed upstairs. Carla took her time, scrolling through text messages that had arrived while she was in the club. One of them was from Dylan, who had been home alone, feeling restless. Carla briefly considered writing back, but the message was several hours old, and it was too late to open a whole new can of worms.

When Carla finally stepped out of the bathroom Annabel was standing there, naked except for her collar. She was holding Carla’s favorite strap-on in front of her, a pleading and supplicant look on her face. Thinking back over all they’d done that day, Carla decided that Annabel had been extremely well-behaved and deserved to be indulged. She took the strap-on from her stepmother and harnessed up.

What followed was like choreography, with every move seemingly plotted out in advance. Annabel turned and started walking down the hall; Carla followed a few feet behind. Watching the exaggerated sway of Annabel’s hips as she moved, Carla imagined herself a nervous teenager having her first experience with an older woman. This was far from the case, of course, but through the power of imagination she was able to momentarily feel some of that sense of excitement.

* * *

Carla’s actual first experience with an older woman had been with an employee of her father’s, a Frenchwoman named Martine. They’d met at a cocktail party Carla’s father had hosted at the house, just a few days after Carla graduated from high school, and just a couple weeks after her 18th birthday.

Carla didn’t particularly enjoy attending her father’s business functions, but she didn’t feel like leaving the house that day either, and knew that there would be good food and drink. She dressed appropriately for the occasion, in a flirty but not slutty black cocktail dress.

As she drifted around the edge of the party, sipping expensive Bordeaux and nibbling on canapés, Carla found herself drawn to a particular voice. It was melodious and feminine, with a lilting French accent, but also intelligent and authoritative. The voice’s owner was facing in the opposite direction; from her angle all Carla could see was dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, a dark gray suit jacket, and a cluster of eager-looking businessmen hanging on every word.

Gradually Carla managed to circle around to the other side and finally got a look at the woman’s face. Her features were sharply defined and perfectly symmetrical, with high cheekbones a slightly upturned nose. She was smiling but her mouth had a hint of cruelty to it, which Carla found extremely sexy. When her bright blue eyes alighted on Carla’s, Carla felt suddenly exposed, like she’d been sized up, evaluated, and judged all in a moment.

The woman was saying something about marketing in Europe that Carla had a hard time following and after a minute, not wanting to be part of the adoring throng, she tore herself away and went to refill her glass. 20 minutes or so later she was standing on the deck looking out at the ocean when she felt movement beside her and subtle whiffs of cedar and sandalwood wafted into her nostrils.

“A very boring party, no?” said the new arrival in bemused Gallic tones.

Carla turned to her and grinned nervously. Although this woman was something short of a classic beauty, there was a presence about her that Annabel found intimidating. Up close, the faintest hints of crow’s feet were detectable at the corners of her eyes; Carla guessed that she was in her mid to late thirties. “I’ve been to worse,” Carla answered, shrugging.

“Martine,” said the woman, extending her hand. Carla took it and afterward they stood talking for the better part of a half-hour. The conversation itself was quite innocuous — Carla discussed her plans for college, Martine said a few things about her work and answered Carla’s questions about France — but there was something more going on underneath it. Carla felt a connection, and when she looked into Martine’s eyes, she knew the older woman did too.

But eventually, to Carla’s disappointment, Martine excused herself. “Better get back to it,” she said, “or they’ll be talking about me.” She kissed Carla on both cheeks and went back inside.

After the party Carla didn’t think about Martine much. There had definitely been something about her, but who knew when they’d see each other again, if ever. Once or twice she found herself idly fantasizing about getting to know Martine better, but tried not to dwell on it.

Then about a week later, Carla was sunbathing topless on the deck when she heard the doorbell ring in the distance. She wasn’t expecting anyone and, feeling drowsily contented, was inclined to ignore it. But then it sounded again and reluctantly she roused herself, put her bikini top back on, and went to the door.

It took her a few seconds of squinting to recognize the woman at the door, and by the time she’d said, “Oh, hi,” Martine had squeezed past her into the house without being invited. In the living room they faced each other and Carla said, “Um, my dad’s not home right now. He’s on a business trip in Mexico.”

“I know that,” said Martine with calm self-assurance. “I didn’t come to see him. I came to see you.”

“Oh,” said Carla, feeling her heartbeat accelerate. And that was that. A few minutes later Carla was laying back on her bed with her legs spread as Martine ate her pussy.

That was one thing that Carla learned from Martine: make a woman come and she’s putty in your hands. And Carla was. Despite her naturally dominant temperament, Carla found herself yielding to Martine’s greater experience and commanding aura. Martine had her every which way that day, and they began a torrid affair that lasted for several weeks, until Martine was transferred back to Europe. She told Carla to look her up if she ever made it to the continent, but the opportunity hadn’t yet come up.


* * *

Carla wasn’t really thinking of any of this at the time; she was completely in the moment as she followed Annabel to the bedroom. The difference in their gaits was pronounced: Annabel’s was a sashaying dance of seduction, while Carla walked with a swagger, the shaft of her strap-on thrusting proudly ahead.

When they got to the bedroom Annabel got onto her hands and knees atop the bed. Carla bit her lip and shook her head; how lucky was she to have a beautiful creature like Annabel offering herself this way? She reminded herself to never stop appreciating how fortunate she was.

Moving slowly and deliberately, wanting to make Annabel wait for it as long as possible, Carla took cords and bound her wrists and ankles to the bed — tightly enough for her to feel constricted, but loosely enough that she could support her own weight with her ass in the air. The desperate expression on Annabel’s face, the gentle roll of her hips, and the shiny wetness of her pussy all indicated that she was very ready to be fucked. But she’d enjoy it that much more, Carla thought, after a good spanking.

So Carla got out her gentlest flogger and began to lash the older woman’s rear. The idea was to stall as much as to punish, and Carla paused between blows, trailing the strands of the flogger along Annabel’s back, butt, and thighs. The need between Annabel’s legs grew more acute by the minute, and she was many times tempted to begin pleading for satisfaction. But she held her tongue and put herself in Carla’s hands.

When the head of the dildo finally pushed into her, Annabel exhaled loudly and pressed down on the bed with both palms, angling her hips toward Carla. Carla reached around and cupped Annabel’s breasts with both hands, then penetrated her the rest of the way.

Annabel’s face contorted and she moaned helplessly, but somehow it wasn’t enough for Carla. She wanted to mark Annabel inside, to touch a part of her stepmother that she’d never touched before.

Hastily loosening the bonds that held Annabel’s feet, Carla rolled her onto her side and lifted her right leg — which was now on top — high into the air. All the yoga had made Annabel exceptionally flexible, and Carla pushed her to the limit, splaying her wide and driving in deeper, deeper.

Annabel felt like she was being turned inside-out; her pussy lips were gaping wide, the sweat pooling under her arms and between her breasts. She gazed up into Carla’s eyes, found them both affectionate and pitiless. In that moment she surrendered herself completely and the first of several increasingly powerful orgasms wracked her body.

When the last one finally subsided, Annabel had nothing left. She gazed up through half-open eyes as Carla untied her hands; then she rolled over and by the time Carla had pulled the blanket up over her, she was fast asleep.

After brushing her teeth Carla climbed into bed. It had been a long, eventful, and thoroughly satisfying day. Carla rested one hand on Annabel’s flank, draped the other across her eyes, and settled in for the night.

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Dominated by Her Stepdaughter, Chapter 80

As the door swung open, Loren was leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed; Annabel was on her knees between Loren’s legs, lapping away happily; and Carla was watching intently, dangling a snifter in one hand. So none of them noticed when two people entered and came toward them.

It was Carla who first became aware of a figure looming over them — that of the statuesque black woman Kim had left with earlier. Later, Carla would learn that her name was Amira and that she was Loren’s lover, as well as a part-owner of the nightclub they were in. But at this moment no introductions were made. Indeed, no words were exchanged. Amira simply unzipped her pants, pulled out a girthy strap-on the same color as her skin, and pushed the tip into Loren’s open mouth.

Loren’s eyes flew open and she looked panicked for a moment, then relaxed and smiled as she saw the familiar face above her. Kim, meanwhile, walked around and sat down next to Carla; she had the blissful glow of a well-satisfied woman. She took the snifter from Carla’s hand and helped herself to a deep draught.

Annabel had looked up from between Loren’s legs, but Amira now stretched out one long arm and pushed her back down. Amira’s other hand gripped the top of Loren’s head as she pushed the dildo further in. Loren gagged briefly but then was able to relax her throat and take most of the shaft into her mouth; she’d had a lot of practice doing this very thing.

Carla decided that she’d had enough of being a spectator. She stood and stripped off her clothes, piling them neatly on a nearby table. When she was naked she walked over and climbed onto Loren’s lap. Loren was small but looked sturdy; Carla was confident she could handle the weight.

In this position, with Carla’s crotch directly above Loren’s, it was easy for Annabel to move back and forth between one pussy and the other, using her fingers on whoever she wasn’t licking at the moment. Meanwhile Loren and Carla took turns sucking the strap-on as Amira gazed down approvingly, feeling properly honored by their attentions.

But suddenly Carla felt herself being lifted into the air and carried toward the stage. She was not accustomed to being manhandled — or womanhandled — this way, but at the moment she was happy to go with the flow, feeling her pussy throb as Amira’s powerful arms held her.

Amira deposited Carla face-down on the lip of the stage, pulled her legs apart, and penetrated her without hesitation or mercy. The yelp that Carla let out was incoherent and undignified, but she didn’t care; all that mattered was that, full as she was, she wanted more. She braced herself against the floor of the stage with both hands and pushed her ass back and up, impaling herself even further on the formidable cock.

Now Amira smacked Carla’s rump with an open hand once, twice, three times; then took hold of Carla’s hips and began to fuck her with a muscular, relentless rhythm. Annabel, Kim, and Loren all watched with fascination. It was quite an athletic display, fully the equal of anything they’d seen on that stage previously.

Carla cut loose with a primal wail when she came, arms giving way beneath her as her torso fell heavily onto the stage floor. But Amira did not let up, simply flipping Carla over onto her back, splaying her legs wide open, and continuing to pound into her. Only after Carla climaxed again, this time with a helpless, gurgling whine, did she relent.

When Amira pulled out and stepped away, her thick black shaft jutting proudly into the air, Carla remained prone on the stage, curled up into the fetal position with a dreamy, heavy-lidded expression on her face. Her protective instincts aroused, Annabel got up and started to go over there, but found Amira standing in her path.

Amira’s arms wrapped around Annabel and the black woman leaned down for a kiss, her tongue probing forcefully into Annabel’s mouth. The tip of the strap-on pressed against Annabel’s pubis, she realized that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Pushing Annabel back against the table behind her, Amira gripped her ass with both hands and lifted her up onto the table. Annabel spread her legs, ready to be fucked, but instead Amira stepped away and began to undress. She pulled off her jeans, unharnessed the strap-on, and shucked off her T-shirt and bra.

When Amira was naked she sat down on a chair next to the table Annabel was on. She pointed one long index finger at Loren, then crooked it back toward herself. Loren did not hesitate to obey; she crawled over and bent down between Amira’s spread legs.

Amira now took hold of Annabel’s thighs, opened her as wide as she would go, and pulled her a little closer. Annabel gasped when Amira’s tongue snaked into her; it was every bit as big as any cock she’d ever had in her, and much more agile. She began to writhe as Amira probed around inside her, but Amira was holding her so tightly that she couldn’t really move, which just increased the pleasure that much more.

The sensation of Amira’s bald head between her legs was a novel one. Annabel cupped the smooth dome with one hand as Amira penetrated her deeply, then traced along her inner thighs, then licked and sucked her clit. Meanwhile, down below, Loren’s head was trapped between Amira’s strong legs, completely enveloped in her musky perfume.

When Amira pressed a thumb into Annabel’s pussy she orgasmed so hard she didn’t know if she was laughing or crying. The spasms wracked her body until she felt lightheaded, but Amira wasn’t finished with her. By the time she came twice more she was completely spent; she lay there on the table staring up at the ceiling, trying to remember where and who she was.

Suddenly Carla’s face appeared above her, upside-down but still unmistakable. Annabel grinned at her and sighed, “Goddamn.”

Carla nodded. “I know.”
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Dominated by Her Stepdaughter, Chapter 79

When the show was over and the crowd had started to disperse, Carla was struck with an idea. She’d noticed that though Blair had left her two co-stars well-satisfied, she’d never been pleasured herself. This might create the opportunity, Carla thought, for a bit of fun. Standing Annabel up, Carla took her by the arm and guided her up onto the stage, then all the way to the back.

They found Blair in her dressing room, a small but neat space with a single full-length mirror, a large rack of clothes in the corner, and numerous implements of punishment on the walls. The door was open and Blair was sitting there topless, rubbing lotion into her breasts; Carla found herself completely hypnotized, standing in the doorway watching, and momentarily forgot why she had come. Finally she shook her head, reminding herself that it was rude to spy, and knocked gently on the open door.

Blair looked over at them and said “Oh, hi.” She did not look in any way surprised or put out to be interrupted in the midst of her ablutions.

“Is it OK if we come in?” asked Carla.

“Sure, of course,” said Blair. “How did you like the show?”

“Amazing,” said Carla. “As usual.” Taking Annabel by the arm and pulling her forward, Carla added, “You remember my... um, my friend, Annabel?”

“Of course,” answered Blair. “Great to see you again.” Turning back to Carla she said, “Remind me...what was your name again, sweetheart?”

“Carla.”

“Right, sorry....” Blair looked up for a moment, thinking back. “Aah, yes, the hood. I remember. That was a good one.”

“Yeah,” said Carla. “So anyway, we couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t really get your... just desserts in that last scene.” Blair raised one eyebrow. “Annabel thought she might be able to help with that. She has a very talented tongue, you know.”

Annabel blushed bright red, both pleased with the compliment and abashed to hear herself offered so crudely. Is this what I’ve come to, she thought, to have my sexual services so casually dispensed? But the worst of it was that now, having been given the idea, she wanted to do it more than anything. She would be gravely disappointed if Blair declined the offer.

After looking Annabel over for a few seconds Blair answered. “That’s a very thoughtful offer,” she said. “It would be impolite of me to refuse.” Unhurriedly and matter-of-factly, she pulled off her leather pants, then unharnessed her strap-on and set it aside. She spread her legs to reveal a glistening pink slit framed with slightly matted dark blond pubic hair.

Annabel took two steps forward and sank to her knees. Planting a kiss on each of Blair’s taut, toned inner thighs, she felt Blair’s muscles contract, smelled her powerful scent, heard her emit a sweet little sigh.

As Annabel began to lap at Blair’s pussy, Carla got out her vape pen and leaned against the wall. She took a long draw and offered it to Blair, who demurred. Carla shrugged and took another hit, feeling like she’d done her good deed for the day.

* * *

Afterwards Carla and Annabel went back to the front of the house, which was now mostly empty. They sat down at the bar, ordered drinks, and chatted for a while with the bartender. Her name was Loren and Carla found her very charming. She was smart and funny, and though her short haircut was somewhat severe, she had a friendly smile.

Eventually they were the only ones left in the bar and Loren said, “It’s closing time but you guys are welcome to stick around.” Carla assented and Loren went to lock the front door. When she returned she climbed up on a stepladder and retrieved something from the top shelf. It turned out to be a bottle of top-quality Armagnac, which she sat down on the bar along with three snifters.

Loren poured them each a generous serving and lifted her drink. “Here’s to new friends,” she toasted, and they clinked glasses. The Armagnac was smooth and delicious, among the best Carla had ever tasted. She drained almost half her snifter in one long sip, then reproved herself; you’re not supposed to gulp good liquor like that.

“So how did you guys meet?” asked Loren.

“Well...” said Carla, looking over at Annabel, who turned away shyly, “actually... she’s married to my father.”

“Really?” said Loren, lifting an eyebrow. “Scandalous,” she purred.

As Loren listened attentively, Carla related an abbreviated version of how their affair had started and recounted a few of their escapades. Feeling drunk, happy, and free, she bragged about the degree of control she had over her stepmother, describing some of the things Annabel had done at her behest.

“So she’ll do whatever you tell her?” asked Loren.

“Pretty much,” said Carla, again glancing over at Annabel. She was looking down and blushing slightly, but her heart was pounding and the juices were flowing between her legs; something was afoot here, clearly, and it seemed likely to be something exciting.

“Make her strip for us,” suggested Loren. Annabel turned to Carla, who nodded. Annabel sighed. Whether she wanted to or not, she knew that was going to end up doing it; she might as well get used to the idea. She drained the rest of the golden liquid from her snifter, feeling warmth suffuse her body as Loren put some music on the sound system.

Soon Annabel found herself up on stage again, but alone this time, as Carla and Loren sat on chairs at the foot of the stage. She started to move with the music, tentatively at first; but fortunately it was a good song with a sinuous bassline, and her inhibitions quickly loosened.

“Take it off!” yelled Loren. Obligingly Annabel reached behind her and, after fumbling for a moment, got her dress unzipped in back. She pulled it down to reveal her bra, a black push-up number that exaggerated her already generous bosom.

Loren whistled and Annabel, encouraged by rapt attention and positive feedback from her audience of two, began to do a real striptease. Working it for maximum effect, she unsnapped the bra from behind, pulled each strap down off her shoulders, then eased the cups gently off her breasts. Finally she pulled the bra all the way off and tossed to to Loren, who caught it and draped it over one shoulder.

Still dancing, Annabel slowly pulled her dress down over her waist and hips, then let it fall to the floor. She stepped out of it and resumed dancing in just her panties and heels.

“Take it all off,” encouraged Loren, who had unbuttoned her jeans and slid a hand down between her legs. Carla, likewise, was touching herself with one hand while sipping brandy with the other.

Annabel’s nipples were as hard as they could be and she began to play with them, teasing and taunting, feeling that she was now the one in control. When she felt good and ready she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her panties, easing them gradually down around her thighs, her knees, and then her ankles.

Loren was frigging herself furiously as Annabel stepped one foot out of her panties and used the other to kick them toward the audience. Her aim was bad and they landed a few feet behind Loren, who wasted no time retrieving them and bringing them to her face for a long sniff.

Carla watched happily as Loren tugged off her jeans. Underneath she was wearing a pair of boyish tighty-whities which soon joined her jeans on the floor. Loren sat down again with her legs spread wide, Annabel’s panties still plastered to her face. Her brown pubic hair was shaved into a narrow racing stripe — a style that Carla usually found gauche, but on Loren it somehow worked.

Feeling powerful and uninhibited, Annabel squatted, displaying her wet pink cunt to the onlookers. “Oh, God,” muttered Loren through the panties covering her face.

Carla nodded to Annabel and tilted her head toward Loren. And so, after climbing down off the stage, Annabel once again found herself on her knees giving head to a virtual stranger for the amusement of her younger lover. Not that she didn’t enjoy it — Loren was delicious, and quite demonstrative in her responses to Annabel’s ministrations — but that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was pleasing Carla, who rubbed herself with increasing fervor as she watched Annabel eat Loren’s pussy.

Absorbed as they were in what they were doing, and with loud music still booming through the room, none of them noticed when a key turned in the locked front door.

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Dominated by Her Stepdaughter, Chapter 78

When Blair reappeared onstage she still looked the same from the waist up — long blond hair, priestly collar, exposed cleavage — but had changed into a pair of skintight leather pants. A sizable bulge in the crotch indicated that she was packing some heat, and she was wearing not one but two black belts.

During the intermission stagehands had erected a divider and placed chairs on either side. Blair sat down in one and crossed her legs, playing absentmindedly with a string of prayer beads. A few seconds later a woman dressed as a nun appeared and sat down on the other side.

The “nun’s” face was familiar to Carla; her name was Mona and she was anything but chaste. She was a bit of a slut, in fact; Carla knew that first-hand. As she thought this Carla smiled to herself; judging by how her summer had been going so far, she was hardly one to talk.

There was a small window in the divider which Mona now slid open. “Bless me, Father,” she intoned ritually, “for I have sinned.”

“Yes, my child,” answered Blair. “What have you done this time?”

“Well, Father... Sister Mary Dolores and I have been... um... sinning again. Several times, actually. But it’s not my fault, Father, I swear. It’s Sister Mary Dolores. She... she tempts me.”

“Sister, how many times have we had this same discussion?” asked Blair. “Must I remind you again of what it says in Book of James?” She picked the bible that had been sitting next to her chair and began to read: “But every person is tempted when he is drawn away, enticed and baited by his own evil desire. Then the evil desire, when it has conceived, gives birth to sin, and sin, when it is fully matured....”

As she read another “nun” appeared at the back of the stage and crept slowly up behind Mona. The newcomer was clearly a Latina, with dark brown skin and thick black eyebrows. When she was close she reached around and clamped one hand over Mona’s mouth; Mona’s eyes bugged out but she didn’t make a sound. The Latina’s other hand snaked around and began to grope her chest.

Blair was still droning on, seemingly oblivious — “Get rid of all uncleanness and the rampant outgrowth of wickedness, and in a humble spirit receive and welcome the Word which implanted and rooted contains the power...” — as the Latina nun came around in front of Mona and dropped to her knees. She dipped her head toward the floor and it disappeared underneath Mona’s habit.

A few seconds later Mona let out a sharp gasp, and Blair paused in her reading. “Is everything OK, Sister?”

“Oh, yes, Father. Just fine. Please continue with the verse, it’s very instructive.” Blair resumed but no one was paying any attention to her; every eye on the room was on the head shape visible under Mona’s habit as it moved up and down, back and forth.

Finally Mona let out a gurgling, helpless groan and Blair snapped the bible closed. Mona leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes as Blair stood up and walked around the divider. Blair stood for a moment watching, shaking her head ruefully. Then she took off one of her belts, folded it in half, and brought it down hard on the Latina’s ample butt.

An “Ow!” was heard from underneath Mona’s habit, and shortly a head emerged and looked up at Blair. “That hurt.”

Blair sneered at her. “That was nothing.” She gestured to the desk that was still sitting to one side of the stage. “Bend over that desk.” When there was no immediate movement Blair barked, “Now,” punctuating it with another crack of the belt.

The Latina scrambled to obey and Blair looked at Mona, whose eyes were now open. “You too.”

When both “nuns” were bent over the desk Blair used the belt she was holding to bind the Latina’s hands behind her back, then took off the other one and did the same to Mona. She lifted both habits to reveal two lovely asses, one alabaster and thin, the other bronze and rounded.

Blair gave each of them one symbolic whack on the rump with the bible, then sat it down; it was not much good as an instrument of punishment. Fortunately there were two canes in the top drawer of the desk. She pushed one into the two women’s mouths and had them bite down on it. “This may sting a bit,” she said.

Beginning with soft blows to each “nun’s” thighs, Blair gradually moved upward, ramping up the intensity until both asses were glowing solid red. By then she was breathing hard and her eyes were blazing. Dropping the cane to the ground, Blair lifted Mona without apparent effort and deposited her face-up on the desk. With one hand Blair spread Mona’s legs and pushed the Latina’s head between them; with the other she pulled down her zipper and out sprung a formidable-looking purple strap-on.

Kicking the Latina’s legs farther apart, Blair wasted no time burying the dildo to the hilt in her cunt. She moaned into Mona’s crotch and appeared to teeter, nearly losing her balance. So Blair took hold of her waist and drove in even further, pinning her against the edge of the desk.

Reaching down, Blair coated two fingers in Mona’s juices, brought them to her mouth, and slowly licked them clean. As she savored one woman’s taste while relentlessly pounding into the other, Carla suddenly flashed back to a few days after her own appearance onstage. She’d been grocery shopping and seen a familiar face — a blond woman shopping with her husband and two kids, maybe 8 and 10 — but couldn’t for the life of her figure out who it was.

Only after surreptitiously following them around for a few minutes did she realize that it was Blair, hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing no makeup and loose-fitting workout clothes. Her husband was not bad-looking, but balding and a little overweight. It all did not compute somehow. Carla found herself staring, had to make herself turn and walk away. When they passed each other near the checkout line, Carla kept her mouth shut and Blair showed no sign of recognition — but then, just as she was almost past, gave Carla a wink.

Carla was startled from her reverie by the sound of someone near the back of the crowd dropping their beer bottle; when she returned her attention to the stage, Blair was now fucking Mona, whose legs were spread as wide as they would go. Mona’s upper half was hidden under the Latina, who had pulled down her wimple to reveal a long, lustrous mane of jet black hair that bounced gently as its owner moved up and down. There was no way of knowing what was going on under her habit, but judging from the look on her face it was quite pleasurable.

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