You Get My Vote

The idea for this story was inspired by memories of another story I read a long time ago, the title and author of which I cannot remember. But at least some credit should go to that forgotten writer, and so to him/her, thank you.

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'Oakland Drive'. Becky's heart sank as she heard the words and as a sheet of paper bearing the names and house numbers, and any known political affiliations, of the residents, was thrust into her hand.

'But the houses there are massive and they're all miles apart.' She had protested without success.

'You've got young legs, you'll survive.' She had been told, wondering morosely how young her legs would feel after having slogged up and down the long winding drives in the heat of a summer's day. She already did as much exercise in the gym as she needed to keep her lithe frame fit and healthy without that.

Oakland Drive was not natural territory for her party. Wealthy and conservative, the residents were almost inevitably right wing and were not shy of making their feelings known to what they considered left wing softies. Never mind, everyone had to be canvassed if her candidate was to stand a chance of being elected and, having volunteered, she could hardly complain about being given a job that she knew somebody would have to do. It was her first election, having only reached eighteen a few months before, and she was determined to do her bit for democracy, and so she had forced a smile and set about what she expected would be a thankless task.

Now she stood at the start of a winding drive while contemplating calling on the sprawling single story edifice that stood at the other end of it. She already knew who lived here, the sheet in her hand informed her that it was Brian and Janet Ellison, and that information did nothing to put her at ease. She also knew that Mr Ellison was away, his business visit to China in search of sales had been trumpeted by the local newspaper, but Mrs Ellison was a daunting prospect in her own right.

Becky had never met her, but she had seen her on the television news, a tall, slim, elegant lady of indeterminate middle age, her long prematurely silver hair at odds with an upright carriage and unlined face. In the program she had been putting news reporters, local business men and the chairman of the local council, all firmly in their place over the need for better car parking facilities in the city centre. She was not a woman to be approached lightly with opposing views and so it seemed likely to Becky that she'd be sent away with a flea well and truly buried in her ear.

Oh well, she might as well get it over with. Becky trudged up the seemingly endless drive with some apprehension, blaming the heat and the sun for the sweat that she could feel breaking out but knowing the fault really lay with her nerves. But at least the effort was not to be all for nothing, for the red 'E' Type Jaguar that Mrs Ellison was famous for driving was parked in front of the house, confirming that at least she was at home and a second call would not be necessary.

She pushed the doorbell, hearing it ring somewhere in the depths of the house, and waited. Nothing. She pushed it again, listening for any sign of life and hearing none. Perhaps whoever was at home was sunbathing out by the pool; it was the right sort of day for it and there just had to be a pool. Becky hesitated, then plucked up her courage and began the trek around the side of the house, hoping that she would not be castigated for disturbing them.

The pool was large and deep, a genuine swimming pool rather than a show piece, but again nobody was to be seen, although an abandoned half empty glass beside a sunlounger and towel showed that someone had been there very recently. Becky looked around, her eyes taking in a sweep of empty lawn behind the pool that ran up the slope, ending in a flowering hedge and a gate onto a small orchard. In for a penny, in for a pound, Becky set off across the lawn, determined not to abandon her quest and thinking maybe that Mrs Ellison could be in the orchard. It was just the place to get out of the sun if swimming in the pool wasn't inviting enough.

She was right. As she got nearer she could make out a mass of tumbling silver hair through a thin part of the hedge. Mrs Ellison was indeed taking refuge under a tree; leaning back and relaxing with her eyes closed in sleep. Becky now faced a dilemma, should she leave her resting target and slink away undetected, or take the risk and disturb her? She'd got a job to do and she'd come this far, and so she took her life in her hands and decided to wake the sleeper if she could do it ostensibly by accident.

But then, as soon as she reached the gateway and got her first clear view she realised she'd got it very wrong. Janet Ellison was only a few yards away against the first apple tree, but she was naked and her eyes weren't closed in sleep but rather in passion. Becky stood at the gateway and watched, one hand over her mouth in total shock, the other gripping the top of the gatepost for support, unable to move, scared to continue but equally powerless to turn away. Here was probably the most erotic and sensual sight she had ever seen, a woman gently masturbating in front of her, carried away on a sea of pleasure and totally unaware that she had company, and Becky hadn't a clue what to do except stand and stare.

Mrs Ellison was beautiful and somehow contrived still to be elegant even at such a moment. She was leaning back against the wide trunk of the old apple tree, soft, blemish free skin against rough bark, her knees raised a little and parted just enough. The pale hair falling over her shoulders framed a small face with high cheek bones and a finely sculptured nose above full pink lips and a gently pointed chin. Tiny lines around her eyes the only giveaway for her age other than her hair. Her body was slim and well defined, her breasts, although small, were full enough to be interesting with only the very first sign of sag, and they were tipped with the most beautiful long pink nipples. She was teasing them with one hand, caressing them with tender fingertips, gently circling and stroking, coaxing them into hard little peaks and making tiny pleasure noises as she played.

Her other hand lay over the gentle curve of her mature stomach to dip between her legs, unhurriedly rubbing and fondling her smoothly shaven mound. Long slim fingers touched and caressed her labia, parting them to stroke either side of her opening as if keeping the final goal until later.

Becky couldn't help it, she felt her body begin to respond, her own nipples hardening inside her top, then, as she saw the fingers sink between the labia, delving and searching, she gasped, quietly but audibly, freezing instantly in alarm at the prospect of discovery. But it seemed she had escaped detection for Mrs Ellison, her eyes still closed, played on, two of her fingers now rubbing at the little button of her clitoris, pressing her labia open and showing the rest of her slit, pink and moist.

Then the busy fingers ventured down, creeping steadily towards their objective before sinking together into the cleft of her pussy, one finding the entrance and disappearing inside her vagina, only to emerge again, slick and shining, before returning into her depths, pushing, playing, her legs parting further, her hips thrusting in counterplay, inviting the finger ever deeper. At first the thrusts were slow and gentle, but soon they became urgent and forceful, the second finger joining the first and showing wet and slippery as her juices flowed, trickling from her in a discernable little rivulet. Her hand became smeared in wetness, passing some of it on to the soft skin of her inner thighs, making her excitement all the more obvious. There was no way that Becky could move now. She was riveted to the spot, scared and breathless but aroused and held by a sight such as she had never seen before; careless now of discovery if that was the price to pay for her voyeurism.

The other hand now left the little breasts with their hardened nipples and crept down, over the abdomen, resting briefly on a hip before tracing the path where leg met body until it joined its partner between the two limbs. Mrs Ellison sighed, a long soft sigh of pure ecstasy as fingers joined fingers, exploring and probing her cleft so that a third finger could play with her clitoris as the others thrust into her. Her lips parted and her tongue darted out to wipe along each lip in such a lascivious movement that it had Becky's pussy throbbing in its turn.

The fingers not exploring her vagina and clitoris now played around Mrs Ellison's pouting labia, stroking the puffy swollen lips as her rhythmic thrusts brought them into contact. She was teasing herself, quickening her pace until she began to whimper with need, and then slowing until the fingers barely moved, entering her tunnel slowly but inexorably while her clit was caressed so softly as to be hardly touched at all, before arousal took over all over again and her plunges and massage became urgent once more. Becky gazed in complete admiration, stimulated beyond reason by the sight, her reason for calling completely forgotten. Her only thought now was self criticism because she daren't touch herself while watching this wonderfully erotic display.

Meanwhile Mrs Ellison was getting close to finishing, her thighs were opening and closing around her hands as if to press them more firmly to her, and the skin of her belly was rippling and fluttering under the sensations that were now clearly surging through her. Her head went back, her lips parting to emit little sharp gasps and the muscles of her neck stretched taut and rigid. Now her fingers were moving more quickly, rubbing hard and hurriedly at her clit while at the same time she stabbed her vagina with the two others, the thrusts not so deep but rapid, as if she was unable to move quickly enough. Then she arched her back, shoulders pressing into the tree, heels pushing hard at the grass so that she lifted herself towards her delving fingers, little staccato sounds now coming from her until a long hissing sigh replaced them and she collapsed back against the tree trunk, shaking and shuddering under the force of her orgasm.

She lay there visibly trembling, her chest heaving and making her pert breasts rise and fall seductively even after her fervour, and with her hands lying limp between her open legs. Becky stood and looked, knowing her discovery was almost inevitable but still unable to move, even when Janet Ellison's head turned slowly towards her and her eyes came open, to stare directly and knowingly into hers.

'I knew someone was there, I just didn't want to know who.' Her voice was throaty after her orgasm.

'I'm sorry Mrs Ellison....'

'Janet, my name is Janet.'

'Janet.' Becky nodded. 'But I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stayed. I should have left when I saw what you were....' She stopped, her face blazing red with shame.

'That's all right.' Janet Ellison smiled fleetingly. 'It made it better for me.'

'I still should have left you alone, Mrs Ellison. It would have been more respectful.'

'And so would calling me by the name I've requested.' She tilted her head questioningly at Becky. 'Wouldn't it?'

'Yes Janet. Sorry.' Becky's mind was in a whirl, this was not what she had expected at all.'

'You're forgiven. Now forget the Mrs Ellison bit, just remember I'm called Janet. And yes, you did make me come harder by being there.'

Becky noticed that she made no mention of embarrassment, or of any discomfort the intrusion must have caused, in fact Janet still lounged with her legs apart, her pussy covered only by her hands. She wondered what to do now, but then Janet spoke again.

'You're supporting the wrong side around here.' She said, indicating the rosette that Becky wore to indicate her allegiance. The raised hand revealed her still shiny pussy and Becky couldn't avoid staring, feeling an unexpected and unwanted response between her own legs and then dragging her eyes away.

'But can I give you a leaflet?' She asked, only too aware of the absurdity of her question.

'Where do you think I would put it?'

There were several interpretations of that question and Becky felt her face flame again as her eyes were once more drawn to Janet's sex.

'No, not there,' Janet laughed, a tinkling, unashamed laugh that took the discomfiture from Becky's expression and substituted a smile of her own.

Janet rose gracefully to her feet and crossed the few yards that separated the two women to stand uncomfortably close, blue eyes looking under lowered lids into Becky's brown ones.

'You're a very pretty girl.' Her hand was unexpectedly laid softly on Becky's forearm sending tingle of erotic excitement through her.

The effect was so immediate that Becky wondered what was happening. She instantly felt that wonderful tingling irritation between her legs, along with the expectant tightening of her breasts and the swelling of her nipples. She shouldn't feel like that, shouldn't respond like that to the touch of a woman, especially one so much older than herself. Okay, so she'd just watched this admittedly attractive woman at play, but she was straight, ramrod straight. She'd never felt like that before, never. Well, actually that wasn't quite true. She'd had a crush on a school prefect at one time that had resulted in her exploring her own pussy as she had wanted to do with the older girl, but that was all. Just that one innocent little time, and now she had got turned on like a light switch. Other than that one occasion she was entirely straight and she couldn't understand the effect of Janet's touch, or maybe, she realised, she simply couldn't allow herself to understand it.

Janet Ellison's fingers traced the skin on her arm, making her shiver as they made their way past her elbow to the edge of the short sleeve of her top, where they veered away across the material to the political rosette pinned to her front.

'You'll not make many friends around here wearing that.' Janet's voice seemed to come from far away.

Now her fingers were playing with the rosette, undoing its pin and then letting it fall to the ground, unheeded, unwanted, before they gently outlined the breast beneath it, her nail buzzing against the material of Becky's top and then briefly circling the nipple, the rigid nipple that was standing proud and proclaiming her excitement, and moving on up to her neck, softly trailing around and behind, under her ear and down beneath her chin, fingertips just in tender contact with her skin. Becky stood and let it happen, a little awed by who was doing it, frozen to the spot, unable to register anything except the fact that her breath was coming faster.

For some moments they stood like that in tableau, Janet ignoring her own nudity as she caressed Becky's neck, her other hand now resting quietly unnoticed on Becky's hip, affirming the contact without restraining her. All the while Becky stood still, her own hands by her side, one pointlessly clutching the election leaflets while the other was balled by nervousness into a loose fist, her mind still racing as it tried to make sense of what was happening.

'What are you doing?' Becky asked, her voice sounding distant and husky.

'It's all right; nothing will happen that you don't want to.'

Becky nodded, accepting Janet's assurance even though she knew the truth that lay behind it. The truth that said that there was nothing she didn't want to happen. Not really.

Janet's hand dropped back to her breast, the fingers now deliberately stroking and massaging the soft flesh through her tee-shirt, looking into her eyes as if challenging Becky to say this was something she didn't want. But of course she couldn't, the hardness of her nipples, the sensation of swelling and dampness between her legs, all combining to deny her. Of course she wanted it, and more. Janet sensed that this was the moment, the moment to make her move, and she came closer, standing full square in front of Becky. Then, still stroking her breast with the one hand, the other moved to behind Becky's head and gently, slowly and gently, pulled her towards her, opening her mouth in an unmistakable signal as she did so.

The first kiss was little more than lips grazing against lips before Janet pulled away to survey the younger girl's face, making sure she had not misinterpreted the signs. But Becky's mouth had followed Janet's for a moment as she withdrew, unmistakeably wanting the kiss to continue. Janet smiled, a smile almost of triumph that flitted across her face so quickly that it was gone before it was noticed. She was aroused, still wet between the legs, still wanting more than just the single self induced orgasm of a few minutes before. Her mouth moved forward again, this time pressing firmly onto Becky's.

Becky was in a state of confusion, the strangeness of kissing another woman had somehow heightened her arousal so much that was her body was aching for release and yet her mind was still rebelling against the idea of contact with someone of her own sex and who was not even of her own generation, It was bewildering, but she could do little about it. Even as Janet kissed her she found herself pushing hard onto the other woman's lips, her own opening in invitation to a tongue that had entered with eagerness, meeting hers and letting the two dance around each other, exchanging saliva as they flitted in and out of each other's mouths.

Janet's hand was now on her back, running up and down her spine and sending shivers of delight along its length. Becky passively enjoyed it, until, with a tiny moan she surrendered entirely and her own hands went around Janet, scattering leaflets everywhere, holding her, feeling the soft warmth of her naked skin, letting her hands run the length of the older woman's back from the nape of her neck to the first curve of her bottom.

Almost immediately Janet responded. She released Becky's breast and, using both hands, she began to tug at Becky's top, pulling it loose from her slacks and then working it up her body, all the while maintaining the kiss, the kiss that said everything was all right. Eventually of course, the kiss had to break to allow the tee-shirt past, but instantly their lips parted Becky raised her arms high, wanting the top removed so that they could continue. Janet smiled and complied, hurrying the top over Becky's head, reaching high as she tugged it urgently along her arms and away, letting it fall carelessly to the grass.

Now the two women came together, embracing tightly, not kissing this time but resting their faces on each other's shoulders as they touched and stroked, hands running up and down each other's backs, each writhing slightly against the other to feel the soft flesh of their breasts press one on the other, firm breast on firm breast, hard nipple on hard nipple.

'Come.'

Janet finally broke away to take Becky by the hand and lead her the few yards away from the gateway where they both still stood to the dappled shade and soft grass beneath the apple tree that had been the site of her earlier pleasure. There they kissed again, not an urgent, exultant kiss this time, but a slower, deeper meeting of mouths that allowed tongues to explore properly and let each woman delight in the sensations. Now one of Janet's hands worked its way around to the front, slipping between their two bodies to cup Becky's breast, fingers finding and rolling her nipple, fondling and massaging her flesh. Becky moaned softly into Janet's mouth, her own hands gripping at her shoulders as if scared that she would move away.

It seemed like only seconds before Janet's hand moved from Becky's breast, making her want to protest, to reach and pull it back, but then she realised that it was heading south, travelling smoothly over her skin until it reached the waistband of her slacks. She automatically pulled her stomach back a little, giving Janet room between them while maintaining the wonderful sensation of breast against breast, her heart leaping as she felt fingers fumbling with her slacks, and then racing as the pressure around her waist slackened when the fastening was released.