Sally's Slut Stories

December 1978

Monica Franzetti was doing the bump-and-grind with her partner of the moment: a short, well-built redhead whose globular tits were being poorly served by a halter-top that was inadequate for the job. She and the redhead were grooving on a packed dance floor at one of the city's leading discos when Monica happened to see an old friend walk around the fringe of the dance floor and take a seat at a corner booth.

It was three days before Christmas, a Friday night, and Monica had been out scouting for young female talent to take to bed that evening. She had just broken up with her previous girlfriend and was out on the prowl. The redhead with big tits had held Monica's interest, until she saw her old friend Ted walk in, with a young blonde on his arm.

Monica had first met Ted some dozen years earlier, when they were both in their early 20s. It had been in Rome, when Ted was struggling to make it on the pro tennis circuit, and Monica was a tennis groupie with an eye for the ladies.

An uncle had raped Monica at age 12, and thus she had come to prefer girls sexually, where she had a physical advantage over most women. However, over the years, she'd allowed a few men to tame her, and Ted had been one of the men she'd taken to bed. She liked his big cock and the simplicity of their relationship: purely for sex, with no strings whatsoever. Over the years, Monica had periodically gotten together with Ted, up until about three years previously, when she decided to devote her attention exclusively to women, as she got involved with lesbian politics in Southern California. Nevertheless, they had remained friends, and ran into each other quite frequently at various times of the year.

After acknowledging Ted's arrival, Monica turned her attention to his girlfriend, whom she had never seen before. At first glance, Monica was curious, because this one didn't seem to be Ted's type. Her looks weren't striking, unlike previous girls she'd seen him out with, and she had almost a shy air about her. In fact, Monica's gaze had originally passed right over the girl, until she chose to take a second glance.

And Monica was glad she did, because once she got a good look at her, she could see that the young girl was actually quite pretty and nicely put-together, not too big or showy in any one area, but just right in every way. Her golden hair was on the shaggy side of short, and her limbs were sleek. Indeed, the more she saw of the girl, the better she looked. Monica could feel herself getting wet at the sight of Ted's girlfriend, and decided to walk over and meet her. She was impressed by any girl who could take on Ted, and she was intrigued by the conflicts she sensed within this very underrated beauty.

The girl appeared to be the kind Monica went nuts over: young, a little vulnerable, but with an air of sensuality. She liked to take innocent, but willing, young girls and introduce them to the art of womanly love, using every means at her disposal, which were considerable. Monica was tall, around 5-10, and slender, with incredibly long legs and arms, tapering into soft, narrow fingers. Her hips and breasts were tight and compact, with just enough strut to be wildly sexy. She had a mass of raven-black hair that cascaded past her shoulders in tight ring curls, a natural look most women would pay a fortune for at the salon. She had a narrow nose, rich lips and the biggest azure eyes anyone ever saw, eyes that glittered with a fire reflective of a true zest for life.

She had been born in the north of Italy, the daughter of minor aristocracy that had become wealthy in industry. She had used her father's fortune to follow her tennis friends to America, first to San Francisco, where she slummed for a while with the hippies, then to L.A. where she had bought a nice, comfortable place in the canyon and lived a brisk social life off her inheritance. Her stated occupation, which allowed her to stay in the country as a resident alien, was as a publicist for a gay and lesbian political group. But she only worked when she wanted, and her income from the job amounted to little better than walking-around money.

Monica watched Ted and his new girl, and it was obvious that they were intimate, from the way their hands touched each other. Monica felt pangs of lust as she watched them together, and wondered if Ted might let her have a crack at the girl, as he had on a couple of occasions when they were much younger. When Monica noticed the girl get up from Ted's table and head for the ladies room, she left the redhead on the dance floor and walked over to speak to Ted.

"Monica, darling, it's been quite a while, hasn't it," Ted exclaimed as they hugged, bussed each other on the cheeks and exchanged greetings. She sat down and Ted ordered her a drink. After a few pleasantries, Monica asked, "So, who's the new girl?"

Ted turned to Monica with one of the biggest shit-eating grins she'd ever seen and said, "That's Sally, my stepdaughter."

"Your… stepdaughter?" she answered incredulously. Ted just nodded, so Monica continued, "So, how long does this go on?"

"Since July," Ted said. "Once she got a good look at Ted's nice, big cock, she was hooked. Can't get enough."

Monica smiled slyly, then asked if she, "might like to try a woman?"

Ted laughed at that. "How do you think I got her to fuck me? I caught her going down on her sister out by the pool, and I sort of convinced her that it was in her best interests to let me have what I wanted. She's got a real nice mouth and her pussy is something else. Why? You want her? I can get her to go with you. Tell you what; I'll give her to you as a Christmas present, let you have her to do whatever you want. Not tonight. Tonight, she's mine, but maybe in a few days?"

Just then Sally returned to the table to find Ted chatting with a tall, very striking brunette. They were introduced, and when Sally held Monica's hand in hers for just a split second longer than usual, Monica knew she had to have this girl. For there was, behind an obviously shy exterior, a young woman just on the cusp of sexual maturity, one who could appreciate all of the things that she could teach. The eyes, it was the coy, seductive look in Sally's eyes and the soft way her hand had clung, just a second, to hers that sent Monica over the edge with desire.

The three chatted for a moment, and Sally found herself increasingly intoxicated by this exotic creature who was such an old, intimate friend of her stepfather. Ted asked Sally about her work schedule for the weekend, and, since it was right before Christmas, it would be hectic. But Mrs. Dowdle, the woman who owned the shop where Sally worked, was closing up until after New Year's, giving herself and her employees a week's paid vacation in thanks for what had been a good holiday season for the store. So Monica had an idea.

"Why don't you come have Christmas dinner with me, darling?" she asked Sally in her distinctive Italian accent. "I don't have anyone to spend the holiday with, and I would love your company. Why don't you pack a bag and plan to spend a couple of days with me. I will make it worth your while."

Sally just nodded numbly, but she responded when Monica leaned over and gave her a big, deep kiss, rolling her tongue in the young girl's mouth, and feeling Sally's tongue react. Then she whispered in Sally's ear, "I want you. Badly." Sally just stared at Monica for a second then smiled sweetly and said she'd be there around 6 p.m. Christmas night.

"Merry Christmas!" Monica waved as she left Ted and Sally. "And thank you."

"My pleasure, and yours," he said as Monica strutted off.

Of course, by the time Monica returned to the bar, the redhead with big tits had moved on to someone else, but she didn't care. She had met her next conquest.

Later that night, as they fucked on the bed in her apartment, it was Monica whose face Sally saw as she closed her eyes lustily, feeling Ted pumping his cock relentless in her pussy, and Ted knew it. Afterward, they lay together in the sweaty afterglow of a very hot encounter, and Ted told her about the sexy brunette, and the more he told her, the more eager she was for Christmas to come around.

By now, Sally had gotten used to going with Ted's friends for sex. She had done it probably a dozen times or so in the three months since she'd spent the night with Dave. Ted's friends and business contacts ran the gamut in age, cock size and sexual ability. Some were good, some weren't. It didn't matter. She fucked whomever Ted told her to fuck and that was it. She had made a few girl friends at college, but she did not obtain a boyfriend, although a number of men from her classes, and even a professor, made an attempt to ask her out, to no avail.

The sun was just setting in the west that Christmas night as Sally drove her Monte Carlo to the address she'd been given. It was a little spooky, she thought, to be driving the freeway at 5 p.m. on a weekday, and encountering almost no traffic. Since she didn't have pay quite as close attention to her driving as she might otherwise, she took some time to assess her sexuality, specifically, why she was so eager for the coming encounter with a sexy, committed lesbian.

Sally knew she wasn't a lesbian, at least not in the strictest use of the word. Men excited her sexually in ways most women did not. But she had been unable to resist when Sylvia had come to her as a budding woman and started asking questions about sex and stuff. And when their curiosity finally overwhelmed them, they had eagerly fallen into the trappings of female lust without regret. But Sally was introspective enough to understand that there was a good deal of narcissism in the relationship. Making love with Sylvia had been like making love to herself.

What she was about to embark on tonight was different. This was another, older, more experienced woman, a dedicated lesbian. Sally stifled a vague worry that Monica might try to turn her into a full-blown lesbian, and Sally knew she didn't want that. She liked men, and the dicks they carried around with them, too much for that.

Monica was exquisitely dressed, in a short black dress with blue highlights. Sally had to laugh when she saw that Monica, too, was wearing black. Sally had gotten a pair of designer jeans for Christmas, black denim, that she had worn, and she had worn a thin, almost-sheer black blouse, and a matching set of black panties and bra that Ted had gotten her from Frederick's.

Sally was ushered into a surprisingly cozy house tucked away atop a small hill. It was tastefully and conservatively apportioned, with no indication that the occupant was a wealthy heiress to a European fortune. Unlike most of the idle rich, Monica was careful with her money. During her years following the tennis circuit, and later in Haight-Ashbury, she had learned to appreciate frugality. She wasn't miserly, but she didn't throw her money all over town, either.

Monica could feel her pussy getting wet at the sight of Sally. She was gratified to learn that her initial assessment of the girl's attributes was dead-on. She was gorgeous in a very understated way, and the way Sally's bangs played peek-a-boo with her luminous eyes turned her on. She knew she was going to have fun with this girl.

For her part, Sally found herself once again mesmerized by Monica. Everything about the woman screamed of sophistication and allure. In the background, she could hear opera playing from speakers that were built into the walls and ceiling. Somehow that lent an air of mystery to the evening.

While dinner was being completed, the two women sat in the den, had a drink and began to get acquainted with each other. They quickly found themselves enjoying each other's company. Monica was an intellegent, witty woman with a distinctly European outlook on life. She had Sally relaxed and in festive spirits in no time.

After a bit, Monica pulled out a rolled joint, which they shared, after which Monica walked to a table against the wall, opened a drawer and pulled something out and returned to the sofa next to Sally.

"Have you ever taken a trip?" Monica asked. Sally didn't quite understand, so Monica asked if she'd ever dropped acid.

"I knew a few kids in high school who did, but I've never tried it," Sally said, a little apprehensively. Monica smiled at that. She had made a quick run up to San Francisco to visit an old friend from her hippie days and had brought back a whole sheet of pure-D windowpane. Monica was known in her gay circles as the Acid Queen, because she loved to turn young women on to LSD, her drug of choice, and ravish them for hours while they tripped. Monica held up the gelatinous tab for Sally's inspection.

"It's the best there is, clean and pure," Monica said. "It will open your mind and free your soul. And it will make you very, very horny. Join me, please?"

Sally found she couldn't say no, so they each dropped a tab, toasted each other on their approaching "vacation," then went to the dining room for dinner. Monica's chef, one of her few indulgences, had prepared a sumptuous feast of lamb in a mushroom sauce, with spinach-stuffed manicotti in a cream sauce and crisp, steamed broccoli. And, of course, there was plenty of wine with dinner.

By the time they were finished, Sally was starting to feel something strange in her stomach, a glowing almost, and when she tried to focus her eyes on something, that something would start to move in very interesting ways. Once they had retired to the den, Monica walked over to her state of the art stereo, a Nakamichi reel-to-reel, and changed the tape. Instead of Pavarotti, she put on a tape of her favorite rock band, the Grateful Dead, a tape she had gotten straight out of the motherboard from a show the previous year at Cornell University, already known as a legendary performance among the band's fans. As the sinuous music of the Dead wafted through the room, the two women sat very close and began to talk, about nothing and everything.

Sally could feel herself slipping down an emotional slope, as the acid started to take hold, and when the conversation turned to Ted and how he'd managed to embroil her in a sexual relationship, she lost it. Monica was the first person she'd encountered whom she could tell exactly what had happened, and she found herself crying bitter tears on Monica's shoulder. Monica held the young woman tightly and let her cry it out, knowing that the acid was fueling Sally's overwrought emotions. When Sally's tears began to subside and she composed herself, she realized that she was in Monica's arms. They stared knowingly deep into each other's eyes before their lips met and they kissed, with a mounting passion.

Suddenly Sally was extremely hot, and felt a compulsion to take off her clothes. She wasn't sure where that came from, but she didn't hesitate. She stood up in front of the eager-eyed brunette and unbuttoned her blouse and her jeans, pulled them off, then stood in front of Monica, swaying lustily in just her panties and bra.

Monica stood up and they embraced tightly, kissing madly as they swayed to the music. Quickly, she shed her dress to reveal a one-piece chemise, with a small bra, not unlike a push-up bra, and a high waist on the lower portion. The two women each admired the other's underclothes, then they sauntered toward Monica's bedroom, where they would spend most of the rest of the night.

It didn't take long for Monica to strip her chemise off, but she told Sally to leave her underwear on for a while. Monica stood by the bed, as Sally lay back on her elbows. Sally was intoxicated by Monica's slender, olive-skinned body. Her A-size tits stood out proudly, with the hard brown nipples jutting outward. But what riveted Sally's attention was her bush, a thick dark mane of hair between her legs that nonetheless did not hide a juicy pair of lips that seemed to beckon her. Monica trimmed her pussy back off her legs some, in order to wear a bikini, but otherwise, she let it go. She liked the way it felt, the way her hair tickled a woman's clit when they ground their mounds together.

And there was something else, too, that blew Sally's mind. That was the fact that Monica did not shave under her arms. Sally had always thought that was gross, and sometimes joined the girls at school in deriding the "earth mamas," who refused to shave. But there was something erotic and exotic about the dark hair that peeked from Monica's armpits, something, well, European. Monica fished out another joint then sat on the bed next to Sally while they smoked it.

Sally's mind was a carousel of sensations as she really started to trip, and the sinuous rock slithering out of the speakers enhanced the glow, making the room pulse with energy. After the joint was finished, Monica turned to Sally and they kissed, slowly, tenderly, and Sally responded. Monica ran her hands all over Sally's body and was startled when she encountered the clean-shaven pussy between the younger girl's legs, under her soaking-wet panties. Sally hissed as she sucked in air at the touch of Monica's fingers rolling her clit.

Abruptly, Monica reached around Sally's back, unhooked her bra and tossed it to the floor. Sally's nipples stood up tall, and she shivered from the older woman's touch. Monica bent over and suckled Sally's tits, slowly, lovingly. She had all night, and she was going to take her time.

Sally felt a welter of sensations sizzle from her nipples to her spine and thus up and down her entire body. Monica moved from Sally's tits, down her flat stomach, tracing butterfly kisses all the way to her abdomen. All the while, her hands were kneading Sally's sex through her panties, causing gasping waves of lust to radiate through her body.

When her face reached the junction of Sally's legs, Monica inhaled deeply, giddy with the aroma of aroused young womanhood. She peeled the wet panties from Sally's crotch and ran two fingers up her furrow, up to the clit that was already throbbing with need. After a minute or two of lightly caressing Sally's lips, Monica slowly inserted her fingers as far as they would go in her steaming pussy. When the twin digits were fully embedded, she found her thumb was poised right at Sally's clit, and as she began to slowly, sinuously, finger-fuck the younger girl, her thumb collided with the hard little bud.

Sally groaned heavily and began to lurch her hips upward in an attempt to get more of Monica's fingers in her cunt. She was almost there, almost ready to explode in a colossal orgasm, when Monica abruptly pulled her hand away, reached underneath Sally's butt and pulled her panties off. Sally's legs were splayed open, revealing her bald juicy pussy that was ready for lust.

Monica gazed down at the young woman who had so beguiled her. She wanted to eat her up, every last bit.

"Bellissima," Monica whispered. "Beautiful. I don't think you know just how beautiful you really are." Sally shivered at the compliment. In high school, not many of the really hot guys had taken notice of her, but since Ted had turned her into his slut, she was finding that she was quite a bit better looking, and considerably sexier, than she had thought.

Without another word, Monica bent her face to Sally's cunt and swiped the flat of her tongue up her pussy then made a spear of it and began to tongue-fuck the young blonde. Quickly, Monica pressed her lips to the gaping slit, and soon she was eating Sally's pussy like a person dying of thirst in the desert.

"Ah, God!" Sally gasped. "Please, make me cum!"

Monica, however, took her own sweet time, but finally, after taking Sally to the brink of release a dozen times, she pressed her entire mouth on Sally's cunt and vigorously sucked and licked the quivering flesh. Sally pressed her hands to the back of Monica's head to keep the seal between mouth and pussy tight. Her hips were gyrating frantically, and it felt like she was trying to suck Monica's entire head into her hungry pussy.