Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

 

by Emma

Chapter Two: A Desperate Good Girl on the Edge 

“Back seat, little one,” Miss Ashcroft said smoothly, opening the door for me like I was a little girl.

The inside of her car smelled like clean leather. She reached in the cargo area and pulled out a thick wool blanket from behind the seat, deep green and incredibly soft. “No proper woman leaves the house without one,” she said, draping it around me in a hug that set my heartbeat racing. “Preparedness is a virtue for mommies like me. Now, up you go.”

I climbed in without thinking, and Miss Ashcroft helped me up, fingers accidentally (accidentally…?) grazing my bottom beneath my tattered skirt.

“There,” she smiled, brushing damp hair from my forehead again. “No need to worry about a seat belt. Simply kick off your shoes and curl up with the blanket. You’re already such a little drenched thing… we need to make you warm again.”

Drenched was right. And cold. But deep inside I was warmed by Miss Ashcroft’s beauty, her kindness… but more than anything, the promise of Lollipop Lane. Could she really be taking me there?

I curled up tightly, thighs pressed together, the soft weight of the blanket pressing me down into the leather bench seat. Wow.

She turned the key, and immediately gentle instrumental music began to hum through the speakers. Piano and cello, a hint of humming. Soft. Lullaby-soft.

“What is this?” I asked, eyes fluttering closed.

“A piece my little girl composed,” Clarissa said. “She made it for bedtime, though I find it has universal applications.”

“You have a daughter?” I mumbled.

“Yes. She’s a little younger than you, and an absolute rascal.” She glanced at me in the rearview, eyes catching mine. “Perhaps you two will get along. Though, be warned, she’s the most mischievously insatiable little thing.”

By then, I was feeling mischievously insatiable, too. I still wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but I wanted to shed tears of happiness and rub my slit at the same time. “Thank you, Clarissa,” I whispered.

“Miss Ashcroft,” she gently corrected. “Say it properly, sweetheart.”

“Miss Ashcroft,” I whispered, correcting myself like a schoolgirl caught passing notes. Except my note would have read, Please, pretty please let me suckle your breast. I know I shouldn’t have peeked down your top, but your nipple caught my attention and now I just want to…

Her smile reflected in the rearview. “Good girl.”

Two words was all it took for my tummy to flip like a cheerleader on Adderall. Okay. Yeah. This was happening.

I was a good girl, and this was definitely happening.

I slipped the fingers of one hand between my thighs beneath the secrecy of the blanket, which now felt less like comfort and more like an obstruction. It smelled faintly of female. Her? Her daughter? I bit my lip, drawing tiny circles around my clit.

“Are you warm enough back there?” she asked, her voice a low purr. “You’re squirming.”

“I’m just… adjusting.”

“Mm. I do like pretty young girls getting… adjusted.”

Something inside me fizzled and sparked. The combination of the soft music, the blanket, Miss Ashcroft’s voice—every word brushing up against the part of me that still wanted to believe I was growing up, cutting away that illusion like a wet summertime bikini trimmed away by scissors.

I sank deeper into the seat, closing my eyes. But the friction between my legs was… wowie, it felt so good. I wanted more. I rocked once against my hand, just a little, just to see if she’d notice.

“Oh, sweetie,” she cooed, her eyes still on the road. “You’re going to leave a wet spot on my leather.”

“I—I’m not—”

“But you will,” she said, voice calm and final. “Protection from wetness is one of the best features of leather. Wait until we arrive home, love. First we’ll get you nice and comfy and warm. Then we see what else is wet.”

I moaned before I could restrain it.

“Oooh, lovely. I’ve a feeling you’ll be excellent company tonight.”

Lollipop Lane. Once more, those magical words echoed in my head.

The name was a vibrator permanently placed on the “oops” setting. My brain immediately launched a full printout of every rumor, urban legend, and half-serious high school whisper I’d ever heard.

“Isn’t that the place where you’re only allowed to wear collars?”

“My cousin said it’s just a house but, like, not JUST a house. Like a lesbian cult, but with cookies.”

“No, dummy. It’s a safe haven for queer girls. Like a rescue house, one where you go to escape from your parents if they’re making your life hell. And they all fuck.”

“Someone on TikTok said they saw a girl crawling down the street wearing a leash and nothing else.”

“I heard they have parties where they take turns peeing on each other.”

“Oh, my GOD. Shut up. There’s no such place as Lollipop Lane. It’s a myth!”

Apparently, there was something to the myth after all. Miss Ashcroft lived there. I was pretty sure if I asked nicely (or misbehaved correctly?) she’d show me more.

My heart thudded. My panties were a lost cause.

I swallowed hard. Glanced at Miss Ashcroft in the mirror.

She was smiling. Knowing. Like she could read my thoughts.

“Miss Ashcroft?” I asked softly, clutching the blanket tightly. My voice cracked, as if I was asking the headmistress a Very Inappropriate Question.

She didn’t respond right away. Just hummed along to the lullaby for five long seconds. It made me want her even more. “Yes, little one?”

I hesitated. “Who… are you?”

Her eyes flicked to the mirror. “I am a woman of refined tastes, impeccable manners, and a soft spot for lost girls with storm clouds in their lives.” She smiled, almost lazily. “As for the rest… well. I believe in earned intimacy, Lily, and you haven’t earned it yet.”

“Are you married?” I tried. “I—I mean, you said you were going on a date tonight, but some women… you know.”

“No. Thankfully, never, because no one on the Lane is ever alone like that.” Her eyes lingered a beat too long in the rearview. “You’ll see.”

I swallowed, the heat pulsing steadily between my thighs, dizzy with the ache of needing to release that warmth, to grind just a little harder… but I didn’t dare. I wasn’t sure. Not yet.

I watched Miss Ashcroft drive. Still humming, one hand on the wheel, the other in her lap. At ease. Queenly. What was it like, I wondered, to move through the world like that? To be so confident you could cause young girls to secretly rub their pussies in the back seat while you drove?

I imagined what she’d look like standing in a doorway, naked and bathed in warm candlelight, murmuring, “Come here, little one.” I wondered if this was truly a seduction, or something else, something that could become more.

Most of all, I wondered if she had the same hunger between her legs that I did, and if I had what it took to satisfy it.

“So…” I said, as innocently as someone with soaked panties and a burning desire could manage. “What’s the neighborhood like?”

“It’s usually very lovely and quiet,” she said eventually. “Well-kept. Extremely private, as I’m sure you’ve imagined.”

“Right. But, like… friendly?” I asked. “Close-knit? Lots of, um, gatherings?”

She gazed at me in the mirror. Those sparkling green eyes were borderline dangerous.

“You want to know,” she purred, “if my neighborhood community is a sex-fueled hedonistic contemporary isle of Lesbos, complete with orgiastic lesbian brunches every Sunday. Am I right?”

My mouth opened and I choked out a half-laugh, half-gasp, still snatching at the thought. “I didn’t—”

“Hush, now.” Her lips curved like she’d just been served a particularly juicy secret. “Of course not, darling. Don’t be ridiculous.”

I exhaled, flustered.

“They take place on Saturday nights.”

My heartbeat stopped.

THIS is Saturday night.

Miss Ashcroft’s laugh was low and melodious. “Oh, sweet thing. We are not monsters. One does need Sundays to recover, hydrate, and bake fresh scones.”

“You’re messing with me,” I muttered, trying to retreat into the blanket and my own lust-addled head.

“And you are squirming helplessly, beside yourself with the need to know,” she replied, pleased. “And I do admire curiosity. It’s a quality I nurture.”

“Nurture how?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Fuck it. Brazen, I began to rub, and rub, and closed my eyes as I imagined this amazing woman nurturing me with that sweet, lone nipple I’d glimpsed moments earlier, while I lay curled up in her lap, suckling and suckling while she hummed and stroked my hair and touched between my legs…

The car phone trilled loudly, shocking me out of images of Miss Ashcroft’s soft, warm pussy pressed against my mouth.

“Ah, it’s my little girl,” she said airily. “Hello, Bunny.”

A voice burst over the speakers like a glitter bomb made of sugar: “Momm-y-y-y-y! I was SUCH a good girl today, I didn’t even hump the pillow during my nap, unless you count that one time I—anyway, can I have cummies before you get home? Please? Pleeeease?”

Miss Ashcroft’s lips twitched as she, without an ounce of shame, locked eyes with me in the mirror. “Are you touching yourself now, little rabbit?”

Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod…

“Only with the pinkie. The rest of my hand is hovering, I swear. Hovering is allowed, you said so on Wednesday.”

“And what day is it, darling?”

“…It’s Saturday?”

“Is it?”

“Oh no.”

“Indeed.”

“I’m soooo sorry, Mommy! I got confused, I’ll stop! I’ll—”

“Bunny.”

A brief pause. “Yes…?”

“If I find so much as a hint of quim on your fingers when I return, I’ll have you crawling the lane with that vibrating pacifier in your bottom, and every dog we pass will have their way with you.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Sorry, Mommy…”

“Apology accepted. Now, be a good girl and draw a nice, hot bubble bath. Oh, and you should also know… I’m bringing someone home.”

A pause. “Is it… a friend?”

“A very pretty young guest. She’s very wet right now, and very curious about our home.”

“OmiGOD. Is she cute? Is she, like, cute-cute, or oh-no-I’m-in-danger-cute?”

“She’s precious,” Miss Ashcroft said, her voice dipped in honey. “And lost. Which, as you know, is one of my favorite flavors.”

The voice on the speakers whimpered right along with me.

Miss Ashcroft’s smile deepened. “You may be your real self tonight, Bunny. No need for secrets. Let our guest see what a pretty little girl you really are, deep down.”

A breathless pause on the other end. Then, in a voice quivering with excitement: “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good girl. Mommy loves her good girl so much…”

“I’m gonna cry—oh, Mommy, you’re gonna make me wet myself—”

“You will not. Now hop upstairs and get to work on that bubble bath.”

“Yes, Mommy! I love yoooou!”

“I love you, my sweet.”

Click. The call ended.

Miss Ashcroft didn’t speak for a moment. Then, a contented sigh. “She’s excitable. But pure and honest.”

I was panting under the blanket. “I…um…noticed,” I mumbled.

“Lily.” Miss Ashcroft’s emerald eyes flicked to mine. “You’re allowed to be nervous, little one. But you’re not allowed to lie to me. I appreciate obedience,” she added, adjusting her mirror. “But desperation is far more delicious. So. No more rubbing yourself, not until we get home.”

Though quaking inside, I reluctantly withdrew my hand. “Yes, Miss Ashcroft…”

On to Chapter Three!