Her wet buttocks pressed the tiles of the shower wall, sliding and squeaking against them.
Laurel's caressing hand worked between Kelly's legs.
Gasping, Kelly leaned forward, her face nuzzling Laurel's breasts.
Ordinarily cream colored, Laurel's bosom glowed darkly pink, thanks to the flushed heat which the shower had drawn into her body.
Kelly opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around a stiff nipple.
She sucked urgently while Laurel's hand worked on her.
And brought her to a climax!
When she came, Kelly felt like her head had exploded, along with her pussy.
Laurel's nipple flopped free of Kelly's moaning mouth.
Kelly, gasping, hunched forward, hugging herself, legs bending at the knees.
She dropped down to her knees on the floor of the shower.
Which brought her directly under the path of the shower spray, which spattered down stimulatingly on head and shoulders.
Kelly reached up and hugged Laurel's wide hips.
Moaning, she rubbed her face against Laurel's hips, bush, pussy, thighs.
Laurel's bush was soaked through and through, while her strong thighs were sleek and slippery with running water.
Kelly's moaning mouth puckered up and pressed kisses on Laurel's sex.
Laurel spread her feet wide apart, opening her thighs to expose her pussy fully to the loving attentions of Kelly's mouth.
Kelly pressed hot sucking kisses on Laurel's pussy.
Pressing her parted lips to the pussy lips, she, lanced her tongue inside.
Her tongue thrust and probed, licking Laurel's juices.
Laurel's plump, heart-shaped buttocks tightened as she rocked her hips in response to the rhythm of Kelly's tongue.
Kelly reached up to clutch those buttocks, one in each hand.
Withdrawing her tongue from within the slit, she slid it up to the summit of the pussy, to press, tease, tantalize, and satisfy the clitoris.
The splashing gurgle of the shower could not drown out Laurel's gasping moans.
Kelly pressed her lips against Laurel's clitoris.
She whipped the throbbing button of flesh with her tongue.
It took little of that clit worship to make Laurel climax.
Laurel's climaxing pussy heaved convulsively against Kelly's lips.
Her body shook as she came intensely.
Laurel and Kelly were forced to wash up again, to clean up after the first shower!
All too soon, though, Kelly was washed, scrubbed, toweled dry.
Laurel's hair dryer quickly blew the wetness out of Kelly's long blonde hair.
Kelly was depressed at having to climb into her clothes and kiss Laurel goodbye.
She would see her again, tomorrow – at school.
But, as always, while in the high school the lesbian lovers must pretend to be nothing more to each other than teacher and student.
Sometimes – most times! – it was hard for Kelly to keep up that pretense.
At least she had all the wonderful memories of the hours of love she and Laurel had shared – those memories helped Kelly endure her absence from her lover.
If only she was eighteen!
Then she could just leave home and live with Laurel.
As she biked home from Laurel's on that Sunday afternoon, Kelly little dreamed that total disaster lurked only a day away!
CHAPTER TWO
"You little dyke!"
"You keep your hands off me, you filthy pig!"
Kelly was cornered in the attic, with nowhere to run.
Her brooding thoughts and depression had been interrupted and shattered by the arrival of her tormentor.
Dan Waxer was drunk – as usual.
But it was more than booze which made his face shine so red and hot, which made his beady bloodshot eyes glitter so hotly.
Kelly had heard him stumbling around on the floor below.
He had knocked into some item of furniture, overturning it so that it toppled. There was a crash, and the sound of something breaking.
The accident was followed by his muffled cursing.
His heavy footsteps made their way to the attic door.
On his side, was the new lock and hasp he had installed – installed so that the door could only be secured from the outside.
A heavy padlock held the door sealed from without.
Sealing Kelly in the attic – as a prisoner.
And now her jailer was paying her a visit.
All of Kelly's fears and apprehensions crystallized into stomach-churning dread, when she heard Dan Waxer at the door.
He fumbled drunkenly with lock and key.
He had some difficulty in fitting the right key into the hole of the lock, but at last he succeeded, and the lock came undone.
He flung the door open, so that it swung on its hinges to crash against the wall.
The violence of the action made Kelly shudder.
"Kelly!"
His drunken booming voice bawled her name up the stairs.
"I'm here, Kelly! Daddy's here!"
"Daddy" – he dared call himself that!
Kelly's real father had passed on years ago. She and her mother had lived happily enough together, until the interloper came.
What Kelly's mother had seen in Dan Waxer was a mystery to Kelly.
Kelly thought that even a child could have seen through, Waxer's oily insincerity, his fast-talking flattery, his phoniness.
But Kelly's ailing mother wanted a man around the house, and had fallen for his line, and married him quickly.
Kelly loathed him from the start. He knew it, too. He seemed to take a perverse delight in annoying her and irritating her and getting her goat.
But that was far from the worse aspect of his repellent personality.
Heavy clattering sounded on the stairs leading up to the attic, as Dan Waxer stumblingly ascended them.
He misstepped and slammed into the wall, his big body rocking it.
"Damn!" he muttered, then went into a fit of alcoholic laughter.
Kelly was rigid, tautly quivering with fear.
There was nowhere to run.
The only way out was down the stairs and through the door… and the hulking form of Dan Waxer blocked that exit.
As he mounted the stairs, drawing closer, his head loomed into view, rising balloonlike from the well of the sunken stairs.
"Hi, doll!" he leered.
Shaky from too much strong drink, he came into view.
Dan Waxer was a big bearish man in his late forties. He had a big round head, with hair thinning out on top.
His low forehead was red and gleamed with oily sweat. In an absurd touch of vanity, he had grown his hair long on the sides, so his big ears were covered.
His face was thick-featured, coarse, common. He had squinty eyes, now bleared from booze, a meatball nose, thin liver-colored lips.
He had a three-day growth of beard stubbling his jowly red face. His mouth hung open in a slack, loose, leering grin.
He had broad sloping shoulders, a barrel chest, and a big beefy beer gut. He wore a stained tanktop undershirt and a pair of baggy brown slacks.
In one hand he clutched a bottle of whisky by the neck.
"What do you want?" Kelly asked coldly.
"What d'you think?"
"I don't know what goes on, in what passes for your mind!"
"Cute," Dan Waxer scowled, "real cute."
"When are you going to let me out of here?!"
"When I'm good and ready to," he snickered.
"You can't keep me locked up here forever!"
"Oh no? I been doin' a pretty good job of it so far!"
"When I tell Mom about this…"
"Yeah, you do that! Only you better yell good and loud, if you want her to hear you all the way down in Florida!"
"They'll miss me at school…"
"Hah! Ha ha ha!"
Dan Waxer's jowls quivered as he chortled. He slapped his knee.
"Hah! That's a good one – miss you at school! After what you done, if you never show up back there, it'll be too soon for them!"