A shy teen receives an education she won’t get at college from her employer and her lesbian lover!
Shy Jessie is spending her last summer before she goes off to college working for wealthy divorcee Mrs Jones. Glamorous and sexy, Mrs Jones is great to work for, but has one rule: Jessie’s expected to come and clean at fixed times.
When Jessie turns up late one afternoon to find her employer in bed with the gorgeous Layla, she understands why. Jessie’s shocked, but also fascinated—something the lovers soon notice when they catch her.
Before she knows it, she’s climbing into bed with Mrs Jones and Layla. Jessie might not be in college yet, but she’s going to be learning a lot of new things this summer…
Inside Mrs. Jones is a 5,300-word short story, published by Deep Desires Press.
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Jessie opened the bathroom door and peered outside. The moaning got louder, interspersed with little gasps and sighs.
“Oh, yes…” said a voice.
Jessie realised two things: the sound came from the bedroom across the landing, and the voice was Mrs Jones’.
She was also pretty sure she knew what those sounds meant. Jessie might’ve been young, but she wasn’t stupid, or a virgin — even if her first time, in the back of Ben Traymer’s car, had been a bit underwhelming.
Jessie stifled a giggle — so that was why Mrs Jones had been so strict about when she was to come in! But that meant Mrs Jones would already know Jessie had been late, and there was no way could Jessie could have mopped, hoovered and dusted with her boss getting fucked silly upstairs. The best thing she could do was probably to tiptoe back downstairs, let herself out and hope for the best when she saw Mrs Jones again. That was Jessie’s plan, anyway, but as she headed for the stairs, she saw the bedroom door was open just a crack.
Just a little look, she thought, followed by No! Are you crazy?
But the sounds Mrs Jones was making were… sexy. No other way to put it. By the sound of it, she was having a much bettertime than Jessie had had in the back of Ben’s car. And Mrs Jones was so pretty. Jessie probably wouldn’t have admitted it to herself if the wine hadn’t still been making her a little lightheaded, but she realised she’d love to see her boss naked and getting rogered by some young stud.
All right, she decided, but just a quick look. A minute. No, not even that — then you’re out of here.
Jessie snuck over to the door, peered through — and gasped.
Mrs Jones was naked, all right, stretched out on her king-size bed. Pretty wasn’t the word to describe her, Jessie realised. She was beautiful — toned and fit, and with what Jessie could now see was an all-over tan.
But it was Mrs Jones’ lover who made Jessie gasp; kneeling by the bed was a tall black woman, also naked, with her face buried between Mrs Jones’ wide-open legs. Her head moved up and down and side to side; Mrs Jones moaned, bit her lip and arched her back, face flushed and eyes screwed shut.
The biggest surprise of all, though, was how much the sight turned Jessie on. Okay, she was horny and frustrated, and the wine just made her feel more brazen, but even so the intensity of the sudden tingle of arousal between her legs shocked her.
But then she remembered how she’d kissed Holly once. This creepy guy had been bothering them in a nightclub, and since they’d both had a few drinks they’d kissed to make the guy think they were lesbians. Afterwards they’d both been embarrassed and pretended it had never happened, but if Jessie was honest, she’d enjoyed it. She’d enjoyed a lot.
Mrs Jones moaned louder, writhing on the bed and stroking her lover’s hair. The tingle between Jessie’s legs got even stronger. Something warm and wet trickled down the inside of her thigh. What was that? When she reached under her skirt and touched the gusset of her panties, she realised — they were soaking, and a shiver of arousal went through her as her fingertips brushed the lips of her pussy.
You have to go! The sensible part of Jessie’s brain screamed at her. She knew it was right, but she couldn’t stop staring at Mrs Jones and the black woman, or resist touching herself again.
She was even more turned-on than she realised; a thrill like an electric shock went through her. Jessie gasped and shifted position, bumping the door with her shoulder.
And that was when Mrs Jones opened her eyes.
Oh, shit, thought Jessie.
Mrs Jones’ mouth became an O; then she looked down, to where Jessie had her hand between her legs, and Jessie’s mortification was complete.
Jessie waited for Mrs Jones to scream, to order her out of the house, to tell her she was fired, but Mrs Jones did none of these. “Hold on, Layla,” she smiled, holding her lover’s head. “We’ve got company.”
Layla looked up. Her big, dark eyes lingered on Jessie’s; then she looked down, between Jessie’s legs, and she smiled too. “Someone’s excited.”
“Someone’s being very naughty,” grinned Mrs Jones. “Peeping at us and playing with herself.”
“That is naughty.” Layla got to her feet. She was gorgeous, too; slim and toned, with wide hips and firm, full breasts.
Mrs Jones’ smile widened. She was looking right into Jessie’s eyes now. “What should we do with her?”
“Ooh, I don’t know, Mrs Jones. What do you think we should do?”
There was a wicked gleam in Mrs Jones’ blue eyes. “I think that maybe she’d like to join in.”
Neither woman said anything else. Jessie wanted to speak —to say yes, to say no, to nod or shake her head, but she couldn’t. Mrs Jones held out a hand; after a moment, so did Layla.
It would have been easy to run away and shut the door. But…at the same time she wanted to step into the room. And it was easier to do, as well. Much, much easier just to do as Mrs Jones said and give control to her.
Jessie stepped into the room and shut the door behind her, and took a step towards them. Mrs Jones laughed, then sat up and patted the bed beside her. Her breasts were bigger than Layla’s, but still firm. The wheat-coloured hair between her legs glistened.
Layla took Jessie’s hand and led her to the bed. She sat next to Mrs Jones, knees together, hands in her lap, trembling. She was scared — but she was so turned on, too. Her panties were sodden, and she could feel her nipples straining against her bra.
Mrs Jones leaned towards Jessie, then touched her halter top. “Take it off,” she whispered. Jessie did as she was told, peeling it off over her head; as she did, Layla knelt in front of her and unfastened her bra.
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