of her friends to give vent to her volcano of lust, but the man already had a commitment. The fact that she could have not him made her even more furious. She fumbled in her intimacy mechanically in bed, but the pleasure made her even more excited and unable to overcome her desire for Nicòle.
In the evening of the third day she decided to put an end to it and phoned.
"Yet, I was sure that she had warned you," said Franca, perplexed "today's young people no longer have any respect."
"No, leave her alone, they are just kids, maybe she gets bored here with me. Unfortunately I do not have neighbors with children of her age. I understand the poor girl." Flora justified her.
"Wait Iâll call for her, letâs see how she feels." Then Flora, anxious and awkward, heard the distant voices of Nicòle and her mother:
"What are you thinking? Why did you not warn Flora you were sick? "
"Ugh, but I was not well, I thought you had told her."
"You're a so rude. Now get on the phone and apologize ... " Other words that Flora could not hear followed. Shortly after, Nicòle came to the phone:
"Sorry!" she began.
"For what, my darling? I'm sorry you were not well," beaming Flora said " but now how are you feeling now?"
"I'm fine," Nicòle continued, somewhat laconic. Then, again, Flora heard mother and daughter confabulating in the background.
"Mom says: if it's not too much trouble, can I continue coming to you?"
Flora didnât know how to conceal the joy that those words brought to her, her voice broke in trepidation, as she said:
"You know, Nicòle, now this is your home. You have to decide, if you want ⦠us to see each other again."
"Yup. I still want to come" said the young girl.
The next day, when she entered the house, a fragrant scent of apple pie and cinnamon filled her senses. Flora went to meet her and they embraced without speaking. Since then, however, she no longer sat on the ottoman, but on the couch, next to Nicòle.
5
Perversed enchantment (Fairy Tale)
Now that the ice had been broken the Iron Fairy no longer kept her secrets for herself. On the contrary, buttery and languished, she had decided to give her soul and, if possible, even her body to the princess.
To Dawn it didnât seem real: after homework, in the afternoon, they would have tea and chat like best friends. And since Dawn had never been so good and willing in her studies, in the end she would get a prize. This prize was presented as confidence and intimacy.
The fairy, resigned, would give herself to her completely, so to let her satisfy her lust and languished feelings of young and impertinent girl.
So the naughty girl would sit beside her.
They would often make use of a small blanket with a scottish pattern, times when Dawn would rejoice even more. They would watch television or Flora would read something in the long winter evenings. She would crash on the sofa and follow pretending interest to any program, for the sake of staying close to her. Their legs, hidden under the blanket, would begin rubbing together and the mere sound of the textile would excite them. Dawn never lacked the right excuse: for fun or for fear, any pretext was good to squeeze against the Iron Fairy. Then, especially if protected by the woolen blanket, the thin finger would begin rummaging. The girl would hug the woman in seek of protection and would explore all her roundness, all her curves. She wondered on the cotton shirt, sometimes getting lost among the roses on the black background, or picking daisies on the violet nightgown. The more the fairy would keep quiet, the more the hands gained confidence.
When she began she would want to stroke with delicacy, faking little interest: distracted, occasional caresses, as if born spontaneously with no ends. But then the excitement would increase, the movements would become increasingly raw, convulsed, disconnected. Those hands literally âpossessedâ the body of the large fairy.
Dawn would touch her abundant hips and then would crawl like a snake to her soft and generous belly, suddenly slipping under the cotton to caress her groin. Then she would return upwards, find her tits and pull, squeeze, play with her large breasts. The nipples would reveal themselves at her touch bloated and hard under the material, pressed under the matronal bra.
Then the fingers would explore the neck, the head, dangle on the earlobes⦠and the fairy would slowly die of languish. The heart would go crazy and small drops would shine on the forehead.
The blanket was Albaâs accomplice.
The girl would start complaining of being hot and, underneath the quilt would slip her skirt from her gazelle legs, staying only in panties and socks. The bare flesh would now again seek the contact, move the cotton, slip the silk and find, finally the otherâs skin. When the skin met, it was a joy for both. The desire was as great as it was suffered and prohibited. The fake silence of the fairy, that impossible indifference of hers, make the young girl shudder: instantly, she feared of being discovered that consequently banned, shooed. She knew she was taking advantage of all the Iron Fairyâs enchantments, but she couldnât help it. She had to drink from that forbidden fountain.
Every evening, returning home, she would promise herself to resist that thirst but the next afternoon the good intentions would fall and she would dive back on the surrendered, soft, maternal body.
6
Getting lost, to after seek for each other more than before. (Reality)
The afternoon was cold, though spring had already arrived.
Nicòle arrived with rosy cheeks and knees, her little nose was frozen. Her slender figure emerged superb, between the play of light of the doorâs glass. Flora was dazzled, once again, by her grace. She had been missing for a week and she had realized how much she loved her already.
Master of the world, Nicòle took off her coat and white scarf. Then, she took off her cotton cap, letting her golden hair scroll down her shoulders. She flooded the house of smiles and words without importance.
"No school tomorrow, no homework today!" She established, domineering, that it was the suitable afternoon to watch "Doctor Zhivago". Flora wanted to cry, but did not, nor did she oppose the request. She had been waiting too long for her to not fulfill the wishes of her small "tyrant". She began feeling butterflies in her stomach, while her mind relished the caresses she longed. Their hands would dance with their fingers, intertwining and repelling each-other, like dancers on a stage. She could not curb her desire, nor to put a real brake to that girl.
But they had been stalled for too long: she could not continue like this. Flora decided to take the plunge and play her cards:
"Go pee then, otherwise you wonât want to get up later" she smiled. "Meanwhile, I'm going to prepare tea."
"Yes, Sir!" Teased Nicòle.
While Flora was fumbling in the kitchen, the young woman lingering in the bathroom shouted:
"I
