10 min read

photo: SexArt

Chapter three: Breaking down Miranda’s walls

It could have gone on forever.

I could have lived, right there, in that contact.

The tip of her tongue, touching mine.

The tip of my tongue, touching hers.

It was too much.

It was always too much.

It was always perfect.

Then we were back at my place.


Did Chloe even have a place?

Or was she just some ghost that went from lover to lover, becoming a part of their environment?

I remembered…I remembered…being in the parking lot.

I remembered the look of fear in Miranda’s eyes, that look that said being apart from Chloe, even for the short drive, would mean everything was ending.

I knew that look.

I knew I’d had that look, many times.

I remembered Chloe saying, “Shh, it’s ok, you are coming with us.”

I think I drove.

I couldn’t be certain.

I remember a lot of talking.

Even laughing, and teasing.

From all of us.

And then we were in my home.

I knew it wasn’t mine anymore.

It was ours.

I also knew that Miranda didn’t know that.

We were standing very close to each other.

Like we couldn’t bear to break the triangle we were forming.

Chloe’s voice was soft, gentle.

“So, this is the first step, ok? You are going to try and act all brave and stuff, but I know it’s scary. I know you are straight, Miranda. I know you’ve always been straight. I’m not saying you have to go full-on dyke, but you can’t be closed off to anyone, just because of gender. It just doesn’t work like that.”

“I…I don’t think I’ve been straight since Devon told me about you.”

“Yes, you have. Appreciating women, appreciating their sexuality doesn’t make you any less straight. It just means you aren’t closed-minded. You aren’t locked into the tiny world-view your parents and society crammed you into.”

She stroked Miranda’s golden curls.

“But, you wouldn’t be here, with us, now, if you were cut off from the idea. You just need those walls cracked open. You need to feel those rules, those chains, break. Like I said, you may only be with men from now on, but you can’t be cut off from anyone, regardless of how they identify.”

Chloe leaned in to whisper in my ear, but loudly enough for Miranda to hear.

“And yes, you too, baby. There’s way more than just two genders. We’ll get there in time.”

“I think you are being kind of a snob. I watched her, I watched her fuck herself helpless in my bathroom. And I’ve done nothing but cum for both of you since then.”

“You know that has nothing to do with us. It has everything to do with what we have. You got off to my girl Devon because you saw the purity of her need. Not because you thought she was sexy.”

Miranda was shifting her weight from one foot to the other. I knew that meant she was nervous.

Chloe was pushing. And I understood that. But she was pushing too hard.

Miranda’s parents were, well… not open-minded. And she’d gotten beyond that, but not THAT beyond.

I took her hand.

“It’s ok. I promise.”

Her cheeks were bright red.

Her eyes were brimming with tears.

But she didn’t let them fall.

She wasn’t scared.

It was just coming too fast.

I squeezed her hand, again.

She squeezed back.

“I trust you.”

I’m not sure if she said it to Chloe, or to me.

Hand, in hand, in hand, I led us all to my bedroom.

Our bedroom.

I knew it was ours, now.

Chloe crawled into my bed, instantly nesting there.

My bed was a luxurious thing: king sized, too many pillows, a plush comforter, and sheets so expensive it was embarrassing to tell. If I was at home, I was in bed.

It was decadent.

Like Chloe.

I smiled at Miranda.

“Take off your top, and skirt,” I gently told Miranda.

She lifted her top off, her gold curls spilling out as she did, and with a wonderful, enticing shrug of her hips, her skirt fell to the floor.

“Wherever did your panties vanish to, Miri?” I teased, as she stood there in just her bra and heels.

She blushed, and I fell a little bit in love, all over again.

“Everything,” I whispered.

She stepped out of her heels, and undid her bra, letting it, too, fall to the floor.

I knew her instinct was to cover herself, but she didn’t.

I was proud of her.

I was hit with the urge to grab her by the throat, to squeeze until she was a tiny bit afraid. To explain to her that I was the one Chloe loved and she would never come between us and I was the only one that mattered and she was a plaything to be tossed aside. I wanted to make sure she never came close to getting in my way.


And it was all a lie.

Because jealousy is almost always a lie.

And Chloe never lied to me.

I belonged to her, and she belonged to me.

My throat, to her wrist.

Miranda and Chloe were something different.

And maybe, just maybe, Miranda and I were something different.

I stuffed it down, back where it came from.

All three of us deserved something better than a schoolgirl’s jealousy.

“Do you like my stockings, Miri?”

I knew she did. The woman had an insane nylon fetish. She told me, once, that sometimes her favorite part of sex was when the guy ripped her stockings off.

She nodded.

“Would you like to take them off me?”

She nodded.

“Would you like to rip them off me? With your teeth?”

She nodded, very enthusiastically.

As she did, I lifted off my top, and pushed down my skirt, and stepped out of my heels. I don’t think I’d seriously considered panties.

“I would like that. Very much.”

She knelt, and ran her hands along the stocking, her nails leaving runs.

“Please, get rid of them for me,” I smiled down at her.

There was the sound of fibers tearing, a giggle as her teeth pulled, and shredded.

It took much less time than I’d expected.

It was exquisite.

Then she was standing again, blushing, but happily so.

And we were both very naked.

“C’mere, sweetness,” Chloe summoned, the only one of us still dressed. It seemed unfair.

Miranda crawled into my…our…bed. And, as guided by Chloe, leaned back against her, between her legs.

I lowered my naked body on top of hers, enjoying the shuddering of her breath as our skin touched, from head to toe.

My own voice was soft, soothing.

My hands roamed, lightly, almost innocently.

“God, I’ve always loved your curves, Miri.”

One hand moved through her hair.

“And your curls.”

She nodded.

I smiled.

“Would you like me to kiss you, Miranda?”


My lips moved painfully close to hers.

“Would you like to kiss me, Miranda?”

She was silent for a moment. She knew the question was different. It was asking something of her. Demanding that she not simply be passive.


“Please, please kiss me, Miri.”

Her lips shifted, moving across the hair’s breadth between us, meeting mine.

A soft, shy kiss.

A first kiss, after a lifetime of waiting.

And I returned it, letting her guide us.

Letting our lips find how they should fit.

Her eyes closed.

Mine stayed open.

I couldn’t bear to miss a moment.

But when I felt a hesitant tonguetip touch my lips…

But when I felt it grow just a bit more insistent…

But when I felt it slip into my mouth…

But when my own reached to welcome it, and I heard her tiny sigh…

My eyelids fell on their own.

I returned her kiss, moving it from my mouth, to hers, and back again.

Over and over and over.

I felt her hips move, just a bit, felt the tiny curls move against mine.

Her arms wrapped around me, and I heard the happy mewling sounds from my throat.

The kiss, our kiss, turned deeper, seeking further tastes, secret places, touches that would be ours forever.

Her teeth found my lower lip.

Bit down.


Fingernails raked my back.

This was what I wanted from her.

That sharpness I knew she kept hidden.

She released my lip.

I enjoyed the fading soreness, and my teeth grabbed hers.

Her whimper was music.

Her whimper was my dog whistle.

Pavlov’s bell.

It let me turn fierce.

She told me to.

That high school kiss remained loving, remained adoring, but became more.

Became dirty.

Became fucking.

Sighs became moans, and one of her legs lifted from under me, to wrap around me.

It hurt to break my mouth from hers, but I needed that beautiful throat.

And I took it.

First with lips, running along her skin.

Then with tongue, tracing the line of her rapid pulse.

Then with teeth, leaving beautiful, curved marks on her perfect skin. Making her arch her neck, roll her head back, issue tiny cries.

She said my name.

She reached into my hair.

I found her ear, teased her, bit and pulled.

Her nails down my back dug in.

Her hand in my hair gripped harder.

Her hips moved under me, as her leg pulled me against her.

This was need.

Her heat.

Her skin.

Her moans.

I stopped.

I just wanted to listen to her breathing.

Listen to the sounds of our skin moving against each other.

She knew I was there.

She knew I wasn’t stopping.

She knew I was letting us build this moment.

When I couldn’t keep myself from her for another moment, my lips fell to her collarbone.

They traced down one, then up the other.

Then returning.

Then lower.


And then I was at her breast.

Just kissing the soft flesh, as it rose and fell with each breath.

Higher, and higher.

Her nipple was already hard.

My lips caressed just the edge.

My tongue finally peeked out, just at the tip.

A happy sigh from her lips.

Deeper as I drew the firm point into my mouth, wet and waiting.

Her hands in my hair, cradling me to her.

My sucking was light, but my tongue lashed over it.

Then, finally, teeth teasing, then biting.

Not too hard.

I heard her whimper.

I bit harder.


She moaned.

A deep, rumbling thing.

I released, and my mouth found her other breast, letting my hand take care of the first.

Fingers caressing.


Pinching and pulling.

I bit, and pulled and her body moved under me.

I pulled harder, testing her limits.

A slight change in her sounds told me when I had found them, and I released.

“Oh my god…” her soft, breathy response.

I could almost feel the rush of adrenaline in her body, as the pain faded at the perfect moment.

I knew her body.

She let me know it.

She let me read it, and was showing me everything she could.

She was scared of this.

She wanted this.

She was doing everything she could for me.

And I would do the same for her.

My hands massaged her breasts, played with her nipples, as my mouth returned to hers.

Our kiss was twice as hungry now.

Some part of her resistance, the first gate, had burst open.

Her hand in my hair, her hand on my face, gripping, almost as Chloe had.

Making sure this kiss wouldn’t stop.

Making sure I was kissing her, the way she demanded, needed.

She invaded my mouth, and welcomed me even deeper into hers.

Our jaws ached.

Our mouths grinding together, wanted to go further, claim more and more of each other.

I lifted away, and this time she grabbed me, tried to pull me back to her.

I fucking loved it.

Instead, I moved a bit further away.

I shifted up, a tiny sound as my cunt moved along her hip bone.

I let my breast lower towards her mouth.

Her eyes went wide.

Her mouth closed, just a bit.

But only for a moment.

Then she opened wide, taking as much in her mouth as she could.

My hungry girl.

My hands on the headboard, my eyes met Chloe’s, just for a moment.

She was smiling, but her eyes were just as intense as Miranda’s and mine.

Then she faded into the background again.

I let myself get lost in the sensation of the mouth suckling on my breast, get lost in the sounds.

“Please, baby, teeth. I want your teeth.”

And she was more than happy to oblige.

I arched my back, helping her to pull on my nipple, held tightly between her teeth, and let out a shuddering half-moan.

I pulled a bit harder, taking it from her, giving me that tiny hit of pain I love so much.

Miri made a tiny sound, like I’d taken her candy away before she was finished.

Mischief rose in me.

“Do you want the other one, baby?”

“Yes. Please.”

I loved the tiniest hint of desperation in her voice.

Of course, I couldn’t deny her.

She made a soft sound, licked, sucked, bit, while I stroked her curls.

She seemed a bit more satisfied, this time, when I took it from her.

I kissed her again, without restraint. And she kissed back, like she was born to do so.

Then I let my lips move down her jawline, her neck, and lower.

I let my hardened nipples tickle the skin along her ribs, and tummy.


I placed kisses everywhere, promises to return later.

Then I reached the start of the soft little curls just below her tummy.

My tongue wandered through them, exploring the little brush.

I got closer to her.

To the center of the heat of her.

Radiating off of her, like a tiny sun.

Her body was so very ready for me.

But bodies, bodies are easy.

Her thighs had spread for me, welcoming me, making a place for me.

But I knew.

I kept my mouth near her, letting her get used to me, letting her feel my presence, feel my warm breath on her very eager, very wet folds.

But bodies, bodies are easy.

I looked up at her.

Her eyes were filled with need.

I’m not sure there’s anything I couldn’t have done to her, right then, right there. She needed this more than she understood. This was part of her learning, but it was so much more.

Her eyes were filled with confusion. Did she want this? Was it too late to stop? What was happening to her?

“Are you ok, baby?” I smiled intimacy at her. I wanted her to feel, more than anything, safe.

“Yeah,” and she tried to nod, tried to be brave.

“I love you. You know I do. And I won’t ever do anything that isn’t wonderful for you.”

“I…I know.”

I reached up and squeezed her hand.

The confusion didn’t vanish, but it subsided.

Which I was thankful for, because her scent was deep in my head, and I wasn’t sure I could go one more minute without the taste of her.

So my head dipped down, and my tongue slipped out, searching for her, sliding easily under her lips, into the wetness they hid.

God, she was so wet.

For me.

I explored along that line, just up, and down.

“Oh…god…oh…” came the raspy reply.

And she tasted like the ocean and butterscotch.

My mouth came to cover her, pressing in, pressing deeper.

I was hungry. Insatiable.

I wanted this to be beautiful and slow and my fingers were parting her so I could get more, and more, of her.

I could hear her moaning, her tiny cries, her hips rising and gyrating under the things I was doing to her.

And that whimper as my mouth slowly began to focus on her clit, full and engorged and begging for me.

Softly, softly toying over it, then more determined, suckling, making her back arch. I heard my name.

Fingers entered. I wasn’t thinking anymore. Fingers entered, and explored, and found the tiny ridges behind her clit, and stroked and teased and she was rolling from side to side, in Chloe’s arms.

“What are you doing don’t stop don’t ever stop fuck I don’t oh god, Devon, please!” and those were the final words before she dissolved into more primal sounds, body spasms, cunt fucking back at my mouth and fingers and then she’s cumming and she’s cumming so much and I don’t want to let her stop because I want to drown in her.

Miranda was lost.

She had been since the kiss.

Devon’s kiss.

The sheer power of it had owned her.

Had made her want more.

Miranda was afraid.

This broke all the rules.

But Little Girl Miranda was no match for Chloe, for Devon, for the want that they’d set on fire inside Grown Up Miranda.

And the power.

The power Miranda had felt with Devon’s breast in her mouth, the feeling of the hardened nipple between her teeth, the moan she’d evoked from her friend.


Her lover.

And then…and then…and then Devon was between her legs.

And her hot mouth met Miranda’s aching cunt.

And her fingers inside her, touching what she’d later know was her g-spot.

Which was so new.

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