Laurie told me one night how she got tired, fast, of people using her. Instead, she decided to wait for a woman who seemed to have the staying power, to be around longer than a few good fucks.I should have seen the signs.She decided that I would "work out". We moved in together a couple months later. Laurie and I found a nice three bedroom home, close enough to the university and just far enough from the city lights.Life was good.We both shared a passion; we drank until they kicked us out at two in the morning, only to find ourselves at an "after hours" party at somebody's house. Alcohol was a friend to both of us until Laurie would cross the line. Then, the bottle became her lover, her confidant.So did any male who crossed her path.Many straight guys came to the bar, for a variety of reasons. Some to pick fights to show how manly they were; some came to try to find true love, as if any real lesbian would cross back over. Then there was Laurie. She could be so fickle.If a guy came. His pupils dilated at the sight. She turned around, holding her hands over her little mound. She blew him a kiss and opened her hands like an emerging butterfly. Above her exquisite tiny slit is a small patch of fur. A deep shade of violet and shaped into a five-pointed star. Keaira slipped her panties off gracefully, leaving her naked but for her lacy black and violet choker, matching corset-style long arm-warmers, and lavender thigh-high stockings. With one slender hand she parted her lips, exposing the pink of her vaginal fissure. With the other hand she tucked her panties into the depths of her vagina. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as she rubbed her sensitive button with rhythmic twirls of a finger. The pixies swooped in all about her and lifted their tattered dresses to expose their teeny purple pussies. Two of them bestrode Keaira’s protruding upper lip. Two others straddled Keaira’s erect nipples. Most of the remaining gripped Keaira’s vaginal lips. All of them.
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