Confessions of a Kinky Divorcee by Lana Fox

slender, tanned thighs half-wrapped around Janey’s waist. She’s wearing a lacy, pink bra and a pair of tan high-heeled shoes. Now, something about these shoes makes me a little angry. (Well, to be honest, Kitten, I’m jealous. Not only are the pair of them getting it on like rabbits, but Lil’s clearly given in to Janey’s penchant for heels, which means I’m no longer the only Goddess of Stilettos.) But even though I’m fuming, I gaze at them, aroused. Their kissing is carnal – it goes on and on – and though Janey is wearing the tiniest pair of Lycra shorts, Lil manages to push her fingers inside them, letting out a little moan of approval as she strokes those beautiful buttocks. Oh, God, I remember fondling them, Kitten! So soft, so pale, so flawless. And I remember how hard I came …
    Lil peels off her own top, and I get a quick glimpse of her breasts – fairly big, maybe a 34C, with large, plum-coloured nipples, and I admit they’re lovely. But it’s Janey’s breasts I’m longing to see. Then, at last, when Lil peels off Janey’s top, there isn’t a bra, Kitten! Just a pair of pale, delicious breasts that I only catch for a moment when Janey turns a little and pushes Lil’s hair from her face. But oh, my, Kitten, what a gorgeous being this Janey is. Her nipples are small and rosy, and her breasts are tight and perfect, and the way Lil is pawing them makes me fume. What right does she have to fondle my tenant’s nipples?
    Mind you, seeing as I’m She-Who-Cannot-Be-Trusted-With-Buttocks, I had no right even thinking of this. What a messed-up woman I am.
    Still. I go upstairs to take a shower, and on my way back down in my new black jeans and sparkly grey flip-flops, I pause halfway. I can see the girls through the open door. Lil is kneeling on the floor with her head between Janey’s thighs, and Janey is lying back, her fingers tangled in Lil’s hair. She keeps arching, and moaning, and arching, and moaning, and she’s whispering things that I just can’t hear, and the look on her face – it’s pure rapture, Kitten. Her eyelids are fluttering and her jaw drops, and her whole body tenses, time and again. I have to admit, when Lil leans towards Janey’s beautiful nipples and sucks – and maybe bites – them to her heart’s content, I imagine I’m her, for a moment, and I’m instantly in a lather. Then suddenly, Lil dips back to Janey’s pussy, and Janey arches back, more tense than before, and she murmurs, ‘Oh Christ … Christ … Christ,’ each word a little louder than the last, before thrusting her hips even harder, so her pussy presses into Lil’s open mouth, and crying out in bliss, her whole face contorted with the kind of joy I, for one, would like a little more of.
    I sidle away towards the kitchen where I clank the washing-up around until I hear Janey behind me. She’s dressed in her little shorts and a tight grey T-shirt. Her nipples are erect underneath. Her face is flushed red, and she smells of beer. ‘Oh, God,’ she gasps, ‘Deborah, I’m so, so sorry.’ She’s lisping a little – that’s when I realise she’s drunk.
    ‘You do pay for a
bedroom
,’ I snap, clanging a saucer onto the draining rack.
    ‘I didn’t know you were home. You’re earlier than usual.’ (‘Usual’ sounds like ‘you-shoo-all’. That’s how tipsy she is).
    ‘Are you saying that if I’m out,’ I ask, ‘it’s fine if you get your … juices … on my white leather armchair?’
    Janey slurs that it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. She and Lil were making up. She assures me that the armchair is fine – there wasn’t anything to clean.
    ‘That’s not the point,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t feel uncomfortable in my own home.’
    There’s a long pause, followed by some shuffling. ‘Oh, my God, you’re right, I’m so sorry! I’m a bit drunk. No excuse, though.’
    I dunk a mug into the water and scrub it, superhard. ‘I noticed Lil was wearing high heels,’ I mutter.
    Holy