Lustful Affairs (Erotica)

“Cookie or nookie,” Abby giggled.

She laid a chocolate-covered Girl Scout cookie on her blond pussy mound. “It’s a simple choice, Tyler.” She tried for a serious face, before dissolving into a giggle fit.

The teenage boy broke up, laughing hysterically. The naked young couple lay in the back seat of Ty’s dad’s big car, parked by the lake. The bluish air wafting in the car was fragrant with marijuana smoke. After smoking way too much pot, Abby and Ty had started eating Abby’s Girl Scout cookies, which were supposedly safe in the trunk. Her discarded Girl Scout uniform was rumpled on the floor.

“Hmmm, cookie? Or nookie?” debated a decidedly stoned Ty, his face an inch from Abby’s fur. “Both taste oh-so-yummy. How about … BOTH!” He spread her knees wide apart. Ty gobbled up the Thin Mint, then opened his mouth wide and covered her quivering sex with his lips. He slowly licked, dipping his fat tongue into her pink slit.

“Mmmm, sweet, sweet pussy,” Ty murmured as he lapped her juices. As Abby wound her fingers in Ty’s curly hair, he moved his mouth up, rooting for her clit. When he found it and began suckling, Abby gasped. Ty continued his insistent nursing while Abby mindlessly humped his face, lost in pleasure.

That was the first night she had come. With someone else, that is.

“Ty, Ty, Ty, you sure knew how to suck pussy.” Abby Carter blushed at the decade-old memory. The 25-year-old mom shifted in her minivan seat, unexpectedly aware of her hardened clit underneath the pleated green skirt. She sat parked in a McDonald’s, a half-eaten Egg McMuffin next to her in the passenger seat.

Abby’s flashback was prompted by her high school Girl Scout uniform. Early this morning she had put it on for the first time in years. Abby stood in front of her full-length mirror, feeling a little silly. Her uniform looked different than she remembered. Although the young mom had added only a couple of extra pounds since she was 17, she was much curvier now. The short pleated skirt hugged her round hips, and came down to just a few inches below her panties. The diagonal sash now draped snugly over a plump over-sized breast instead of the budding teenaged tit she had before. Only the perky beret — perched on top of her blond head — looked the same.Content rights by NôvelDr//ama.Org.

Aroused by her memories, Abby looked down at herself. She ran her hands up her smooth thighs, sliding her fingers underneath the green skirt. “I don’t have to pick up Emma’s Girl Scout cookies for a half hour,” Abby reasoned, wiggling her fingers under the elastic waistband of her white panties. “Besides, no one can see through the tinted glass.”

Abby delicately fingered her slick folds. She stroked her lips, rubbing in the oozing girl-juice from her slit. Tilting her pussy forward, Abby dipped two fingers into her wetness, massaging her clit with the heel of her hand. Abby’s hole tightened around her fingers as her pussy pulsed. She withdrew them with a wet slurp, and squeezed her clit between her wet thumb and forefinger. Abby rolled the erect nub, gently pulling. Her green Girl Scout skirt flipped up, exposing her busy hand inside the white panties. Abby threw her head back, dropping her beret in the back seat. She felt a growing surge, growing, growing …

“Riiinnnggg!”

Her cell phone.

Abby abruptly withdrew her sticky hand, grabbed a McDonald’s napkin, and picked up her iPhone. “Yes, hello?” Abby asked, a little breathlessly.

“Abigail? Are you OK, dear?” asked a cheery voice. “Suzanne Moffatt here. Just wanted to make sure you’ll be here on time to pick up Emma’s cookies.”

“Sure, I’ll be on time, ma’am,” said Abby. “I’m almost there.”

After hanging up, the young mom shivered thinking of Mrs. Moffatt, her daughter’s perfectly proper troop leader. The ever-smiling Suzanne Moffatt looked like something out of a Betty Crocker commercial, with a beauty-parlor hairdo, starched blouses and sensible shoes. Mrs. Moffatt and the other moms from the troop were overly polite to her, but Abby always felt like these power moms disapproved of her.

“I’m too young. I’m too blond. I’m divorced. And my tits are too big,” Abby thought to herself, hiding a smile. “At least I can still fit in my Girl Scout uniform.” As she drove to Mrs. Moffatt’s, the blonde smoothed the badge-covered sash over her large breasts.

“Jesus! My nipples! They are OUT!” As she parked her minivan in the driveway, Abby looked down at her chest in a panic. Her nipples were now erect, and much more obvious than before her little mental trip down memory lane. She sighed, shook her head, then giggled.

Walking up the sidewalk, Abby tried hunching her shoulders to minimize her jiggling breasts, but they refused to be shy, sticking out high and proud. “Oh well. At least I’m here when I promised,” thought Abby, standing up straight as she knocked on the door.

“Why Abigail, how nice to see you!” Suzanne Moffatt, said brightly, showing all her capped teeth in a wide smile. “Do come in!” Mrs. Moffatt’s eyes carefully avoided Abby’s big tits under the diagonal sash. “How cute, wearing your old uniform! I’m sure you know only girls SELLING cookies can wear their uniforms during Girl Scout cookie time!”

The young blonde walked into the living room, which was piled high with stacks of Girl Scout cookie boxes. The spotlessly clean room looked like Martha Stewart had just finished decorating it.

Abby adjusted her green beret over her disheveled hair. Her nipples pointed straight at Mrs. Moffatt. “Sorry; I just ran out of the house.”

The older mom flashed another toothy smile. “Why dear, I understand! I’m a mess myself!” Mrs. Moffatt touched her flawless brown flip. “And look at me! I might as well be in DUNGAREES!” Mrs. Moffatt wore a navy blue blazer with matching navy blue slacks. Her tasteful silk blouse was topped with an understated strand of pearls.

“Do you have Emma’s cookies ready for me to pick up?” asked Abby.

“I sure do! I have 100 boxes set aside for each Brownie to sell in the next few weeks,” said Mrs. Moffatt. Looking around as if she didn’t want to be overheard, the older mom lowered her voice. “This year there is a CONTEST! The first Girl Scout in the county to sell all 100 of her cookie boxes wins a trip! The winner and her family travel to Washington D. C. to be presented with a special ‘Awesome Achiever’ medal from the Girl Scout Council president!” Mrs. Moffatt was practically salivating. “Of course, my own Judith has already sold 84 of her boxes, so with any luck tomorrow after school she’ll sell out and be officially declared ‘Awesome’!” Mrs. Moffatt crossed her manicured fingers in front of Abby’s face.

“Naturally, if little Emma wants to attempt to win, she’s, ah, welcome to try!” Mrs. Moffatt had a pitying look on her face, as if picturing Abby’s dreamy 6-year-old Emma duking it out against her own aggressive 8-year-old Judith.

Seething, Abby stood still, clenching her fists. “You, you, you … BITCH!” she nearly spat out loud. The young mom was consumed with an irrational desire to wipe the smile off Mrs. Moffatt’s carefully made-up face.

Mrs. Moffatt helped a silent Abby load her van with stacked boxes of cookies. The older mom waved merrily to Abby as the blonde drove away. Little did Mrs. Moffatt know, the young blonde was plotting her next move.

After calling her neighbor and arranging that he’d pick up Emma after school, Abby got busy. She had cookies to sell.

***********

Abby drove her van to a just-opened subdivision nearby, and parked at the very back, near the new construction. She hoped new homes meant people new to the neighborhood. In other words, people that wouldn’t recognize her.

As she stepped out of the van, Abby smoothed the green skirt over her hips and adjusted the sash on her plain white buttoned blouse. She pulled up her green knee socks and retied her white Keds. Abby left her dark blond hair loose to ripple down her back, falling to her waist. She was ready to sell.

The homes on one side of the street were finished and lived-in; the other side had half-constructed houses. Abby walked up the sidewalk to the first occupied house, and rang the doorbell. She plastered a smile to her face. A tired-looking woman opened the door, a baby on her hip. “Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies!” Abby asked brightly. The woman looked down at Abby’s breasts and short skirt, and grinned.

“Sure honey, I’ll take a box of Thin Mints,” she said.

After handing over the cookies and collecting the money, Abby smiled as she walked away. “One down, 99 to go!” she thought.

As Abby walked to the next home, she heard a whistle, and turned her head. Across the street, two construction workers stood in the open garage of an unfinished house. The muscled young men were smiling.

“Hey little girl, are you selling cookies?” yelled the taller of the two. “We could sure use a sweet snack.” The second guy laughed and punched the first in the shoulder.

Abby stopped, frozen. She was about to walk away, ignoring the workers, when a vision of Mrs. Moffatt’s sad, pitying smile flashed through Abby’s mind. The young mom narrowed her eyes, set her jaw and hardened her resolve. “I’m not letting that, that … CUNTSICLE and her awful daughter win Emma’s ‘Awesome Achiever’ award!” Abby told herself, cocking her beret at a jaunty angle. “Turn around, Abby, and SELL THOSE COOKIES!”

Abby pivoted, her skirt flying up, and walked across the street toward the grinning construction workers. As she walked across the dirt yard, they stared at her sweetly bouncing breasts. Abby entered the garage, looked up into their dirty faces, and smiled. “Would you guys like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?”

The taller guy looked at his blond co-worker, and stroked his bare tanned chest. “What do you think, Marc? Do we want this little girl’s cookies?”

“Oh, I think we do, Greg. I’m hungry for a treat.” Marc grinned at Abby wolfishly, his teeth very white. His blond hair was pulled back in a short ponytail.

“Well, they are $3. 50 a box, and I’m anxious to sell as many as possible,” said Abby, thrusting her chest forward.

Greg ran his fingers through his dark hair, and lazily looked down at her breasts. “It might convince us to buy your cookies if you were wearing a proper uniform. That blouse is not regulation Girl Scout attire.”

Marc’s face took on a mock-serious look, as he nodded sadly.

Abby thought for a second, face burning, then said softly, “How many cookie boxes is a regulation uniform worth?”

“I’d say that’s worth two boxes each, don’t you Marc?” Greg laughed. Marc joined him, nodding vigorously.

“The customer is always right! I’ll take care of that now,” said Abby. She started lifting off her sash, but Marc interrupted her.

“No, leave that on,” he said softly.