In Les Spirites, California, within the city, a maze was in the process of being disbanded.
For years: lesbians moved to it and through it, having their sex-capades. Lesbians laid in it forming their open V formation: as their partners explored their vaginal zones.
Municipal authorities discovered and closed it down. Travelers saw it now as a no-zone. Neither here. There. Or anywhere.
Some lesbians still had secret access ways: a key, a partially opened window. Shirley and Kim (local college lesbians) broke into it.
They rushed around corners and up the stairs to a familiar couch in the living zone. Their lips traveled up and down their necks, breast, legs, and private zones. They burst then rested.
From the shadows: a pair of green almond shaped eyes peered at them. Above her eyes: a short burst of intense blond hair, cropped short.
She was a robber (Kelly’s her name). She wore almost no clothes: so far as she knew, she was the only person in the building.
An hour before: she dug at her loins in the room behind her, until she burst in the middle of the room. Her fluids dripped into the drain: and to her disappointment, nothing.
Some years before: lesbians set up locks. Keyless. Cardless. Almost biometrically free. No way to unlock their vaults or secret rooms, save through a drain. Within that drain: some clever lesbian placed a little gadget within. Water would drain into it and it wouldn’t open. Yet: if a lesbian burst over it, she would hear a click.
To her disappointment: no click. Kelly was out for an hour, trying to recover her strengths. Contrary to belief: women did tire, as easily do men. She heard a commotion: her heart started. Found!
She laid in the shadows: breathing and listening. She heard familiar sounds: women. She heard familiar moans: lovers.
She recovered enough to watch: a dying breed. Within the last year: the city grew something an ethical core. As police cracked down on porn hubs, some municipal authorities discovered and ended rings of finger-game lesbians.
That unfortunately left Kelly out of work: who made a career in her stint as a finger-game lesbian.
In her prime: she wore latex-finger gloves, tightly on her hands, and while she was by no means of the word, mean, cruel, or a sadistic, she did appreciate the money, and the brief respite from men grabbing her ass in the tight confines of local diners.
A game to her was just a game: all consented, no one felt snuffed, and it was fair as they wanted it to be fair. She burst her last vagina in a finger-game ring, when the universe unfairly seemed to grow a conscience.
She knocked off some rooms in the maze, using the familiar vagina burst technique. She plundered a few item: nothing of value. It was all consigned to ruin anyway, since no one wanted a building out of conformity with state regs.
She surveyed Shirley and Kim. They seemed book smart, intelligent. She worked alone. But something about them.
Kelly was lithe, athletic, and she liked to be fit. Her last partner flew away: as they often seemed to do. Lesbians were like fiery birds. They flew in and out. They came toward her like a storm, then faded just as fast.
She surveyed her vagina: it was a lonely little cave. No friendly face or finger to visit it.
Her strength depleted: she rested an hour, and followed Shirley to a café. And together, they returned to the maze.
Shirley was a freshman: only vaguely aware of the maze’s history. She was game to exploration. And together they work on Kelly’s problem.
Two rooms with drains, otherwise known as obsidian bowls. Obsidian bowls were used by a prominent wealthy lesbian to lock her secret chamber.
Kelly burst on each obsidian drain: no effect. Shirley remarked that she and Kim often came to a climax: at the exact same time. A thought struck Kelly like thunder shaking the house.
Two-key system!
Kelly like most lesbians was not by any means of the word, a hyper-sexual. She liked her partner with a fine drink in one hand, and an opinion on her lips. But..
Kelly pointed to each obsidian and to the one door: and concluded. She could never open the last door by herself.
Shirley understood: and obliged her. It was awkward: since they needed pin-point accuracy. They both had to crest: and both worked on each other vagina, attentive to their partner.
At a few occasion: Shirley or Kelly needed to say ‘stop’ to allow her partner to catch up. When they feel sure of cresting within a minute of each other, they split: each to their own room with its own obsidian bowl.
Shirley let loose a faint cry: she burst. 10 Seconds later, Kelly burst: but with a slight grunt.
A second passed: it seemed an eternity. Two seconds passed: it seemed almost an hour. A click, a clunk, something churned on the other side of the door.
The door opened.
Shirley looked the door frame: her eyes widened, her lips parted with awe, and she murmured ‘oh my’.
Kelly’s thought raced furiously. The maze was to be renovated within a few weeks. That left her with under a month to deal with a new set of wonders behind this door.
To be continued..
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Penned by Kelly LeBrock, Karen McGill.
Non-copyrighted version, free to share and use. Any film adaptation must reference the contents of this story approximately.