Fridays at the Guardian Angel Ch. 01

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All characters are at least the age of 18 or older.

*****

“You’re up miss ace detective, you gonna call or are you here just to watch?” asked a pair of hazel green eyes flashing a confident grin and all the shiny white alligator teeth to go with it. I scrunched my nose, irritated by the gritty scent of the cigar nestled between her dragon-like smile. Glancing at the pathetic pair of cards that were my hand I did a silent mental groan. Well, I didn’t come here to win at poker.

“Yeah, I’ll play this one. And please, call me Red.” I tried to say with a confidence that didn’t betray that I was about to lose everything I was tossing into the pot.

“Red is far too cool a nickname for a kiddo like you, so I’ll call you what I want.” She replied, smoke flowing out of her nose like a dragon about to add to her growing hoard. “I’m more than happy to let you join our little family game night but that doesn’t mean you get to choose your nickname.”

“Ease up on her Jackie, I was hoping to finish my glass before we lose a player.” said the woman to my left, tossing her hand away taking a sip from her wine glass.

“Mari’s right” mumbled a brunette to my left, still in the game. “It’s been months since we’ve had a fourth and I don’t think Miss Red here gets enough allowance for a second game.”

Jackie let out a chuckle giving a pat to backside of the blonde sitting on her lap. The blonde didn’t react at all, continuing to watch the game with an expression that practically screamed that she wished to be anywhere but at our card table. “I know Cass, she’s just so easy to read I can’t help myself. After I take both of your chips I’ll go easier on her.” Replied Jackie, continuing to rub the blonde’s thighs for what I assumed was good luck.

“And she’s not a detective, she’s a writer” Said a quiet voice across the table, watching as the river revealed that I was indeed about to lose the chips I had just put forward a moment before.

“You know Kris, I think she’s closer to a journalist actually. Said she writes for that one magazine, Clicky something or another.” Muttered Cass without looking up from her cards.

“It’s Cliques, and my job title is somewhat fluid. You can think of me as a writer, a journalist, or even a blogger if you’re comfortable. And my name is Red.” I said, tossing my pathetic hand away, “But I’m interested in stories, the edgy, mysterious, sexy, and true.”

Five pairs of eyes, including the pouting pair on Jackie’s lap locked to mine when I said the word ‘sexy’. Jackie flashes another smile as she blows cigar smoke out her nose dragon-style. “Right, so that’s why you’re here miss reporter.” Chewing on the words through her smile, “To learn what it’s like to be a futanari.”

*****

Red was a nickname I had gone by for most of my life due to my naturally flame-red hair that flowed down just below my shoulder blades. My mothers would say that it looked like a flame was chasing me when I ran. I was a white petite girl, only barely clearing five feet without the assistance of heels. Perched on my small button nose was a pair of thin black rimmed glasses in front of a pair of brown eyes. My clothing and body I believed were unremarkable, especially my breasts which had stopped growing at what I thought was a pathetic b-cup. Throughout high school while not ostracized, I was not popular by any means and tended to go unnoticed in most situations. This being a quality I didn’t mind as it made overhearing interesting stories a snap.

Just a day ago I was Red the rookie new writer at Cliques, one of the most popular online publications catering to young women. Cliques covered anything from fashion tips, the love lives of celebrities, upcoming pop culture, tips to improve one’s sex life, and more recently short romantic erotic stories typically told first-hand. Unsurprisingly the erotic stories were the most read stories on the site and my debut article that recanted my secret sexual relationship with the pastor’s girl who lived next door made a huge splash on the sites’ hit counter. I would like to think it was so popular not because of how hot the story was, but that it was true as told first-hand by me.

I wanted to share more stories, but this time I wanted to focus on the erotic stories of what it was like to be with a futanari. But I was in a bind, I had never knowingly met a futanari let alone spoke with one about her sex life. Pornography revealed about as much reality as normal porn did, giving the impression every sexual encounter began at the drop of a hat and involved a healthy amount of breathing through teeth. I didn’t even know how to write my piece, should it be a journal I publish online or a series? The questions got jammed in the doorway of my mind, giving me an unbreakable case of writers block before I even began my quest.

*****

“You’re hooked on a new story I see. You’re always bringing your laptop to bed whenever you’re too hooked on denizli escort a job to sleep.”

That was Tess, we had been dating for about three years and been roommates since college. We met while I was a writer for our university’s newspaper; she became my editor at the paper and later lover. Throughout college she was the one who gave me the confidence to pursue unique and challenging stories. I grew to be a writer professionally, while Tess pursued her own passions as a personal trainer. For everything I was Tess was the exact opposite. While I was a petite shy redhead who hid behind her glasses whenever she could, Tess was a 6 foot tall amazon. With shining blonde hair kept in a tight braided ponytail and bright blue eyes that begged for attention Tess was the center of attention wherever we went. Every inch of her body sported tight toned muscle, and yet she still maintained a soft bouncing pair of D-cup breasts and a skinny feminine figure.

“Well I sorta struck gold with the last one, so now I want to strike while the iron is hot you know?” I replied. Tess strode across the bedroom, curved hips swaying in her tight spandex shorts fitted to her toned theighs as she disappeared into our closet. “How was work?”

“No rest for the wicked huh? ” Replied Tess, poking out of the closet missing her pink tank top her breasts struggled against moments ago. “That’s probably pretty good though, seeing as how your first story was such a big hit”. I muttered an agreement before losing myself in the screen of my laptop again, staring at the blinking cursor in my blank word document.

“Stuck?” Tess had suddenly appeared next to me on the bed looking over my shoulder. She had abandoned her gym clothes for an oversized grey T-shirt and black panties. I confirmed her suspicions with a sigh and bit my thumb. “Time for my cure then!” she purred before kissing me on the cheek, sliding to the end of the bed and flipping the skirt of my blue sundress above my waist. “Went with red today I see, pretty scandalous.”

Tess’s “cure” for writers block was going down on me. She believed that if she could force my thoughts out while I was on the path to orgasm then it would be a breeze to get them out on paper. “Wait, Tess you just got home and I haven’t-” I stammered as Tess was slipping my panties down my legs, leaving my pussy exposed.

“Mmm” She purred, “It’s been far too long.” She gently spread my legs I was pitifully attempting to keep closed, sliding her thumbs along my inner thigh. She began planting soft kisses on my leg, starting by my knee and working closer and closer to until she planted a kiss just inches from my pussy. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and a wetness growing between my legs. Tess continued to massage my thighs, her breath brushing along my exposed pussy lips, my heart jumping with each exhale. “So, who’s your audience for this one?” she breathed.

“Uh” I stammered, feeling my face grow hot “Curious and clueless teenage girls, and young women looking to get off.” I managed to get out. I rocked my hips in weak attempts at regaining control.

“Alright, I’m a dumb horny teenager. Tell me Miss Red, what’s a futanari?” She asked in a suddenly high pitched voice.

“Well, there are two genders, females and – Oh god!” I was interrupted by Tess using her thumbs to open my now-soaking twat and diving tongue-first into my opening. Gasps forced their way out of my lungs as I felt her wet tongue slide along my pussy lips. She worked her way up and down my slit, stopping to plant a wet kiss with her lips on my clit. When she planted a kiss she would purr out an “mmmm”, the vibrations forcing me to arch my back and curl my toes.

After planting an extra-long kiss, she released my tingling clit with a loud smack. Tess leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Miss Red,” She said with a pout “I’m here to learn, I can’t keep going if you’re not going to teach me.” She said in her teenager-voice. My heart was pounding and I could feel sweat droplets forming on my forehead. This was her cure; get me started and desperate to force out my thoughts.

“You are something else.” I muttered in-between panting breaths. Tess began running her finger up and down my pussy lips as I began again, each lap sending waves of pleasure. “So there are two genders, females and futanari. Futanari share all the characteristics of a female but instead of a vagina and ovaries they have a penis and testes. While clothed Futanari look identical to a Female, as the only physical indication of their gender is visible while naked. Futanari are also much rarer than females, with roughly 1 in 500 births being a futanari, meaning it’s possible for some people to have never knowingly met a futana-MMMMM”

I was interrupted again; Tess had buried her face in my practically dripping pussy and planted her lips around my clit. Trapped between her warm lips, my clit was electrified with relentless pleasure. Her tongue dikimevi escort darted circles around it’s prey, sending shockwaves of pleasure up my spine along my body. My eyes forced themselves shut as her pace quickened, feeling only her soft wetness as it slid across the surface of my clit.

Tess freed my clit with a “POP” and returned to work on licking up and down my pussy lips. “Is that it? Why would little me need to know about Futanari then?” She asked innocently between licks.

“Well, futanari are necessary to make children. Typically two women get married, and when they want to have a child they somehow come in contact with a futanari. God this is hard when you flick your tongue on my clit like that.” I grunted out as she returned to work. “When a woman wishes to be impregnated by a futanari she wears a yellow armband or bracelet telling any futanari that she wishes to bear a child. Somehow she meets a futanari, the futanari’s penis enters her vagina and ejaculates and bam there’s a bun in the oven. But as to the real circumstances of what it’s like to be with a futanari I just don’t k-” I suddenly stopped short, my breath caught in my throat.

Tess had returned to sucking and licking on my clit, but had thrust two of her fingers into my practically gushing depths. With each flick across my clit with her tongue she slid her fingers across the top wall of my cunt in a ‘come-hither’ motion along my G-spot. I gripped the bed sheets so hard I feared I might rip them, the pleasure coursing throughout my body uncontrollable. The combination of her tongue and hands caused my legs to twitch, sliding across the sheets like I was trying to swim away.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god” I stammered with each repetition higher pitched than the last. Tess jumped her pace into a sprint, tongue attacking my clit and fingers sliding in and out of me at a blurred pace. Loud sucking, slurping and panting filled the room like a lewd chorus. Glancing down between my legs I saw Tess’s blonde head bobbing up and down between my thighs, her panty-covered ass swaying behind her. Tess began purring as her motions broke into a sprint, the vibrations of her lips forcing such pleasure I forgot how to inhale.

“Oh god I’m gonna- I’m gonna- I’m gonna- Oh Tess!” I screamed as an orgasm overtook me. Tess continued her assault, fingers and tongue working overtime on my throbbing pussy. My vision went white as I stammered out moan after moan. I felt my feet kick along the bed with every pleasurable wave that coursed through my body, fingers gripping the sheets as if my life depended on it. Tess slowed her pace as the tremors slowly gave way to my post-orgasm numbness.

Tess popped her mouth off of me and slid her soaking fingers out of my opening. Wiping her mouth of her saliva and my juices she purred as she climbed up my lifeless body, planting a wet kiss on my lips. I could taste myself on her tongue. “So there you go, you’re looking for stories of what it’s like to fuck a futanari.” She whispered in my ear. Tess curled up next to me, allowing my head to rest on her shoulder as I recovered.

“Thank you” I whispered.

*****

I started my research like any good glorified web blogger would, by asking around on anonymous message and imageboards. The results were to be expected, a whole lot of poorly phrased lewd anecdotes, derogatory requests for images of myself, and enough dick pictures to fill several thumb drives. After a week of flipping through images of cocks at various stages of erection and ejaculation I received a strange private message:

I believe I may be able to help, but I can promise nothing. Come to the attached address this Friday at 7PM. Bring 200 dollars and ask for Cass, tell her your guardian angel sent you.

You also might want to brush up on your poker skills.

The request for money made me nervous, but I was desperate for a story and I figured I might as well give the place a look and tear out as soon as I felt any bad vibes. I spent most of the week brushing up on my poker skills, hoping that my informant didn’t expect me to win, because that was never going to happen. Eventually Friday night did slowly roll around, I ventured into the unknown, hoping I would at least come home with a new story.

*****

The address from the message was only just outside of the city, nestled in right where the suburbs are beginning to transform into the rural farmland. The trip would only be twenty minutes at most, but time slowed to a crawl as the knot in my stomach grew tighter and tighter feeling like my insides could snap at any moment. Why do I trust some weird online message? Why am I risking my life for the sake of someone’s personal smut story? “No” I said aloud to myself, “It’s not just a smut story, it’s about writing the truth”.

Following my GPS I turned off the main road and passed under an archway that instantly released the pressure in my stomach. dikmen escort Written in large lamp-lit letters along the archway read “Ark Nursery”. It all suddenly made sense in my mind; I was looking for first hand sexual experiences of a futanari, so of course I was going to a nursery.

A nursery is a set off area from a city where soon to be mothers and new mothers alike live with their families. These areas are for expectant mothers as well as mothers with young children to live in a safe comfortable environment. From the time a woman was pregnant she is invited to live at a nursery until the child reaches the age of five upon which the mothers of the child are expected to leave and return to normal housing. A nursery typically looks much like that of a college campus, with its own enclosed space and various buildings within the grounds, all for the purpose of providing for expectant and young mothers.

The Ark Nursery grounds were filled with apartment buildings with lush garden balconies and large windows lined the outer walls. Parks and playgrounds were full of children playing while mothers chatted and watched from nearby benches. Pairs of women pushing strollers glided down the sidewalks past tables of women enjoying some evening tea while rubbing their pregnant bellies. Outside a health clinic a woman in scrubs was chatting with a very pregnant soon-to-be mother, clutching her bulging belly, before heading home for the evening. Across the street from the clinic a group of women each sporting the beginnings of a pregnancy bump sat outside a coffee shop enjoying the sunset. Everything a mother would need was in this place and it just reeked of a maternal atmosphere. Everywhere I looked there was either someone visibly pregnant, had a small child, or had a small child and was visibly pregnant.

My GPS coordinates led me to the center of the nursery grounds at the foot of what appeared to be a massive glass hotel. Statues of what looked like goddesses poured water in glowing fountains on the path to the doors, the surface of the water sparkling from the lights of the massive structure. A large black archway covered the entrance with big white letters: “The Guardian Angel”; obviously the hotel’s name. Women in bellhop uniforms held the door while a valet in a tight black blouse and pair of slacks scurried over to my car and squatted in front of my open window. “Here for the evening or to stay?” She asked in a casual tone.

“Just the evening.” I tried to say in my most I-know-what-I’m-doing voice, despite having no idea where I was. Surrendering my car to the valet I strode to the front of the hotel, pushing past the large class doors. The entrance gave way to a large reception hall where all the walls appeared to be made out of marble and fountains calmly flowed water in the center of the grant room. Valets and bellhops scurried around carrying bags for various women whom were often visibly pregnant or carrying children. Classical music echoed throughout the room from unseen speakers. Everything looked so clean and sharp, I suddenly felt very out of place.

Approaching the front desk, praying I was in the right place the receptionist smiled up at me. She wore a sharp suit top and white blouse and tight black skirt. Her flowing brown hair and kind brown eyes behind thin glasses exhaled an air of professionalism yet warmth. “Welcome, how may I help you today?” She asked in a bright tone.

“I’m uh, meeting someone” I stammered, failing to not sound creepy “I’m supposed to ask for someone named Cass?”

The receptionist’s eye brightened with a smile. “Right the way Ma’am.” She said, striding from her post down one of the large marble hallways of the room. She guided me to the entranceway of what appeared to be the resort lounge. A large bar lined the back of the dark room in front of booths and tables. A large stage hosted a small band playing jazz for a group of onlookers enjoying mixed drinks. The receptionist strode to the hostess, who wore a glittering blue cocktail dress, whispering in her ear and pointing at me.

The hostess beckoned me to follow with the flick of a finger to the far corner of the lounge and a table of five women playing cards. Actually, only four were playing cards. One woman was perched across another’s lap; a blonde with a strangely bored look on her face. The hostess bent over and whispered into the ear of a woman at the table, who then looked up at me and casually asked “Whatchya need?”

“I uh-” I stammered “I was told to come here and ask for Cass which is you I guess. My guardian angel sent me.” A smile escaped onto the faces of all the women playing cards.

“Cass you are just wrapped around that girl’s finger aren’t you? Now she’s sending lost puppies to you praying for a litter now?” chucked the woman with the bored looking blonde partner. “You’re too crazy about that woman. She’s had what, eight of your kids now?”

“Nine. You’re just jealous you can’t get a piece of her Jackie” Cass replied, “She goes back to that perfect body after every child and I can’t stay away.” Cass turned to me, remembering I was there. “So, what’s your partners name then?”

I was caught off guard by the question, “Uh, her name’s Tess, how did you-?”

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