Lying Young Ch. 01

"Um, Dori..." Dori imagined her saying, as her face broke into a big grin. "...I'm afraid this is quite inappropriate."

One leg over the back of the couch, other foot on the floor, toes digging into the carpet, Dori made an innocent face. Her cunt moistened.

"But why, doc? What am I doing wrong?"

Deborah pointed with her pen. "You're lying on my couch in your nude flesh."

Dori giddily giggled, as tingles of pleasure danced over her correctly nude flesh. She parted her labia and rubbed.

"But, doctor," she barely audibly mouthed. "Whatever could be wrong with that?"

Dr. Morelli scooted her chair closer, making her ever more excited.

"You see, Dori," she explained, pointing to the girl's pussy with her pen. "You're naked...and you're masturbating in my office."

Dori's head swooped back. Her smile grew ear to ear, as a wild surge of passion invaded her.

"Ooooooh!" she exclaimed. "Say that again and touch me, Doctor Debbie!"

Dr. Morelli shook her head. "This is a professional office, Dori. I cannot permit such behavior inside of it."

Dori moaned, loudly, earning herself more tingly goodness.

"But I can't help it, doctor!" she indeed helplessly insisted. "You're just so sexy, and you turn me on! And that's the truth! I just can't control myself around you! You make me so wet, and...and...and wet! I want you to kiss me! PLEASE!!"

"Oh, but now, Dori, you know the rules."

"I don't care, Doctor Debbie! I want you, so bad! I can't even lie about it! My pussy's on fire! Kiss me!"

She heard Deborah let out a sigh sitting over her.

"If you insist, Dori. But I'm going to have to brand you for your infraction."

Dori amazed herself. She came up with that sentence on the spot, and it drenched her cunt. It made her so hot, she generated a layer of pre-cum. She threw her head back, mashing and crushing the pillow cushioning it. "YES!" she boomed.

Dr. Debbie climbed on the couch between Dori's legs, leaned over her with her pen, gripped her right breast around the underside and began scrawling letters, first across her heaving tits. When she finished, Dori's chest and belly read, I AM A DIRTY, BAD GIRL, AND BEING EXPOSED FOR ALL TO SEE. NOW I CANNOT HIDE MY CRIME.

She imagined Deborah finished penning these shaming words on her boobs and tummy, discarded the pen, produced a camera, and took a photo of Dori's lust-dizzied body to preserve the message. She then too placed the camera...anywhere else, leaned once more over Dori like an ominous sexual presence, and seized her tits.

Dori screamed as the sizzle tore through her. Hot tears materialized in the corners of her eyes. Her skin was ripe, sweaty and reddening. Her nipples stood proudly erect as she pawed into the clit hood with one hand, and furiously fingered inside with the other. Her entire pussy was growing too soaked, blood-gorged and swollen to stand it. She won herself wave after ascending wave of blazing, blinding passion by keeping her mind as focused as possible. Although, just like her nubbing, throbbing clit, it was getting harder and harder.

She pursed her lips, trying eagerly to wait. "Kiss me, Debbie..." she begged. "Please...I need...your lips...your tongue..."

Deborah Morelli's invisible fingers smoothed over Dori's diamond-hard nipples, as Dori cradled her tits with the crooks of her arms. She strained, trying to sustain the fantasy, keep it as "real" as possible, and feel Doctor Debbie's supple lips brush her own. She didn't know how much more her overwhelmed pussy could take, or if she could hold it back. She decided she'd better hurry up already. So she held Dr. Deborah Morelli steady in her mind's eye, brought her down so they were face to face, and finally made it happen.

Deborah's lips made contact with Dori's own, sinking into her, melding, pressing, enchanting Dori's senses to the core, all for one. Dori squealed through her pursed lips, even though she was still alone. Her imagination was just so powerful. It could indeed do a lot of wonderful things, fantasy-jilling not the least. Her upper foot whacked the back of the sofa like Thumper, while her other quintet of piggies burrowed into the carpet fuzz. She felt herself warm up even just some more, as Dr. Deborah's ghostly body nestled over. It didn't matter that her good doctor kept her clothing on, or what she did with her hands. So Dori had her palm her cheeks while they kissed, chocolate brown Italian hair wisping her gingerly. Dori put her arms and wrists into turbo mode, giving the last of it all she had. She built and built, built and built, and BUILT...

Until the inevitable...she rumbled inside, about to lose it. Her thighs and pussy quaked violently. Her legs shook and trembled. Her upper foot dropped to the cushions. She started seeing stars under her fluttering eyelids. It wouldn't be long at all now. Dori at last felt her soul careening upwards, straight to the heavens. Her inner explosiveness only multiplied, endless sparks of live sensual electricity crackling over her. She finally reached that point just pre-orgasm where she couldn't stand it. It was time to finish herself off. So she imagined Doctor Debbie slipping out her tongue and forcing access inside Dori's mouth.

Their tongues touched. And that did it. All hell ripped loose.

Dori came. Her desperately burning cunt squirted hot sticky cum, caking and pelting her paw. Her eyeballs felt like slot machine reels, moving almost as wildly as in REM sleep. She finally let Dr. Deborah Morelli "vanish" from above her, as her orgasmic shrieks forced her mouth open. Her arms and wrists throbbed, but the ache was intangible in her throes. The cum splatters fizzled out, but the climax kept rocking her world another few moments. As with lots of orgasms, she had trouble determining just when she hit the apex and started back down. But she knew this was going to be a good one. It wasn't every day she met a charming lady like her therapist-slash-psychiatrist. And when she did meet someone new, they didn't usually spend so much time together off the bat. And even though they were there to talk about her, not Debbie, Dori could admire her all she liked while confiding.

At whatever point it was that Little Dori signaled to her owner she was done, said owner let everything drop, her breath catch back up, and the afterglow bathe her. Her ear-to-ear grin stayed plastered across her dizzy face. There'd be no prying this smile off her for a while. There'd also of course be no going anywhere until her blood rerouted correctly. But this was perfectly fine. Dori reached down with one arm to pull her lower leg up from the floor, surrendered consciousness, and took a wondrous, tranquil nap.

Little did she know just a short matter of days later, she'd whip up a not entirely different fantasy, involving Miss Lesley Claire Walker.

*****

The Folks Who Came To Dinner

Friday, March 30th, 2012, 5:25 p.m.

Dori had straightened the apartment and prettied herself up, in one of her spiffy bright dresses and a loose necktie. Her parents were coming for supper, as they did from time to time. She'd rather have Lesley over, or the lot of them all together. But her Tuesday had already been made this week, as Lesley had in fact dropped into the Goodies Bakery to see her. She'd looked Dori up, deciding to pay her a visit, and to pick up an assortment of muffins, for her Student Council admins. Dori was so happy to see her, she insisted on taking care of the order herself. She placed thirteen muffins in a bowed gift basket, and presented it to Lesley with a smile so happy, so enthusiastic, so beautiful...Lesley went weak in the knees. "A baker's dozen," she'd winked. "Literally."

They'd only just begun communicating on social media. Their schedules were a little congested and incongruent for any kind of a date just yet. But Dori felt she could wait, that Lesley was well worth it. A girl like her didn't come along every day. Which was not to say that Dori wasn't eager. But in the meantime, she had her folks on the way over this chilly evening. It may not have been the most pleasant thing in the world, but it wasn't the worst either. Even still, she was a little nervous. These get-togethers with her folks remained capricious to this day. She had a family-sized lasagna to pop in the oven, and then of course some of her infamous delectables for appetizers and dessert. They'd indicated to her they'd be over circa 6:00. Dori checked the time.

"5:27." She shrugged with a nod, heading into the kitchen for some juice. "Got about a half an hour to kill..."

She brought out a glass of Hi-C, swiped the remote off the coffee table and began to sit down.

Three raps came at the door knocker, prompting Dori back up with a grunt.

"Or not," she amended, wondering why sometimes she bothered to sit down at all. "Who the heck is this now?"

She opened the door. Outside stood Viola and Simon Young. Dori's eyebrows arched.

"Mom. Dad. You're...early."

Her folks waved with smiles. Dori held up a single index finger.

"Just a sec."

She placed the door shut to the crack, scampered back to the coffee table and grabbed her glass of Hi-C. She guzzled it down, trotted into the kitchen, refilled it, returned it to the coaster, pranced to the door and pulled it back ajar.

"Hey!" She herded them in for a first group hug. "Well, c'mon, c'mon in! You guys wanna sit down?"

Mr. and Mrs. Young each took one end of the couch, and motioned for Dori to sit between them. Dori hesitated. Though she had some trouble pinpointing why, the idea made her a bit more anxious still. She guessed she envisioned her parents sitting together, so she could take one side of both, or just choose another spot for herself. It wasn't exactly appropriate to assign seats, but these were the ones her folks had chosen. And they were waiting for Dori to join them.

"Oh!" She pretended to smack herself in the brow. "Where're my manners? Lemme go get you guys something!"

She scooted into the kitchen, from which her parents heard only vague sounds for a moment.

"Oh, uh, Dori?" Simon called.

"Yes?"

"You've got that iced tea, right? You know, the sweet kind, like we always used to have when you were little?"

"Now, Dad, you know I haven't had that stuff in years."

"Oh, good. Pour me a glass, would you please?"

Dori did so and brought her father his beverage. "Mom?"

"You know my usual; call me that Cab."

Dori tried not to sigh. "Uh, Mom..."

Viola arched her brows at her. "You do have it, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Then chop chop!" her mother smiled, clapping her hands. "Mommy's thirsty! Wants her happy juice!"

"Right, fine, you got it," Dori lackadaisically agreed, heading back to the kitchen. "Glass or bottle?"

"Silly girl, both."

Dori dug into her more or less obligatory wine rack and located the Cabernet. The wines were only kept in here for when her Mom visited. Her Mom brought them over sometimes as "gifts," since Dori couldn't legally buy. She always asked what her mother would like to drink, because she hoped just once to get an answer that didn't have alcohol in it. Dori didn't like wine, a trait she could only have gotten from her Dad. One night when she had trouble sleeping, she poured herself a little—even though she was still only 20—but the smell alone was too much for her. She'd deposited it down the sink instead. She returned to the living room with both, deposited one in each of her Mom's mitts, and now with more of a reason to sit alone, grabbed some plush in the nearly recliner.

"Thank you, peach," said Viola, pouring a first full glass. Simon, who neither approved of her excessive consumption, cleared his throat.

"Viola..."

"Simon...yes, what? You drive. You are supposed to be the gentleman."

Dori turned on the TV and started looking for a program. Any program. At all.

"Viola, I won't be around to drive you forever. And you keep drinking like that, neither will you."

"Are you coming to a point, Simon?"

"Viola, you know your threshold."

"Amen." Viola toasted, clinking Simon's glass of iced tea. "Cheers, hugsby."

"I'm not joking, wifey."

Dori hopped back up from her recliner, clapping her own hands loud enough to shatter crystal.

"He-ey!" she announced, trying to defuse the building tension. "Appetizers! Huh? App—I go—they're right b—...'scuse me!"

She re-hastened into the kitchen. Simon and Viola heard more random noises. They turned back to one another.

"No fighting in front of the daughter."

"Agreed. She is now out of earshot. Shall we continue?"

Simon sat one leg on top of the other. "I still say we should've taken 94. And Dori said we were early. I knew we said 6:00."

"We said 5:00, Simon. Our daughter's a liar, and 90's faster."

"Yes, faster and dangerous. Might change your tune if you were driving. Oh, but then, I forgot: your 'happy juice.'"

"Y'know, wine makes you do a little something called 'loosen up,' Simon. You oughta try it sometime. It's nice."

"No, thank you, Viola. Aside from being your chauffeur, I prefer being allegedly 'tight' to 'loosening up' my lunch."

"You'll notice at least I don't nag at you while you're being my 'chauffeur,' as a lot of wives would."

"Perhaps that's because you're passed out for ninety percent of the ride."

Dori slipped the pan of lasagna into the oven and loaded up a nice big plate with some hors d'oeuvres, reapproaching the living room.

"Y'know," Viola retorted, "Some men like a woman who enjoys her liquor, and who can hold it like a lady. Some gents actually prefer that kind of woman, to an uptight, sober, prissy little—"

"Biscuit?"

They turned. Dori had reappeared, holding a platter of small biscuits with various flavors of filling. Her folks agreed to call a truce for now, and each took one with a napkin. Dori sat the platter between them and resumed her recliner.

"Okay, well, the 'sagna's gonna be ready in about two weeks, so, mind if I put on some 'toons?"

They didn't mind, so Dori started channel-flipping.

"So, babe," her Dad said, placing his biscuit and napkin beside his iced tea. "How'd your appointment go?"

"Oh, yeah," her Mom chimed in. "That was two appointments this week, right? Bix and the shrink?"

"Well, matter of fact, guys," Dori told them, "The therapy session kinda sucked."

"Oh, glad to hear it, honey," Simon smiled. "That's wonderful."

"Yeah, uh...still kinda waiting on the results from the checkup, though."

"Well, you mean Bix didn't tell you the results when he finished up?" her mother wished to know.

"Oh, of course he didn't. Yeah, he did. He just said there were one or two things he was a little concerned with."

Her Dad furrowed his brows. "What one or two things?"

"...It was kinda bizarre, actually," said Dori, launching into a whole new lie. "Some clown came in with about seven thousand balloons and a helium tank. So we went outside, and I held them while he blew them up, and they actually started to lift me off the gr—"

Viola began to say something unpleasant, but was overlapped by Simon holding up a hand. "Dori...it's us. Please, just the truth."

"Right, right. Well, um...like I told him, my migraines started coming back."

Simon placed the same hand over his face. "Oh, hell."

"Simon, you've always been too worried about this," said Viola. "Dori's seen Bix since she was five, and it never concerned him that much. That's all they are, just headaches. They come and they go."

"Uh, yeah, well, about that—" Dori again started to say.

"Viola, she gets them at least three times a week. No one's headaches are that frequent."

"Y'know, while we're on the subject," said Dori, raising her voice a bit. "Dr. Bixby wanted me to menti—"

"And what about the nausea?" Simon went on. "Things start getting a little serious when your kid's spewing chunks."

An awkward silence settled. Dori looked embarrassed. She thought she'd try to lighten the situation with a little humor.

"Well, I'm hungry. How 'bout you guys?"

They all decided to relax and snack on the biscuits while the lasagna cooked. They watched some TV, and around 6:30, Dori got up to check on supper. It was done. She served. They were about midway through when her cell rang.

"'Lo?...Uh-huh?...Oh, hey."

Her parents gazed in her direction. A beat passed. Dori abruptly glanced back to her parents for just a second, and answered.

"...No, I can talk. Go ahead."

Viola sipped her wine, her expression not changing much. Simon's eyes widened a bit. He observed something seemed to be amiss, as Dori appeared to be telling the truth. He then noticed something else. Dori's tone and face turned worried.

"No...what?"

Simon stood from the couch, strode the few paces over and put a hand on Dori's shoulder.

"Honey, what? What is it?"

Dori gently waved him off for the moment. Her voice rose in alarm as she spoke into the phone.

"...No, whoa, whoa, wait a minute here. You sai—...y—...well, yeah, I know that, but you sai—..."

She got up, stepping away from Simon, a few feet in the other direction. Her parents could hear nothing on the other end but a faint murmur. But the next thing they knew...

Dori froze.

Her eyes and her voice welled up.

"...What??"

To be continued in part two.