You are outside. Its winter, and cold. The ground is frozen solid. The grass breaks and crumbles when you step on it. There are dead, frozen flowers and old leaves. The trees are in deep hibernation.

You don’t know how long you walk. It is morning and then night. Noon and then morning. The dim sun passes over again and again. Your whole life is in this forest, in this winter. You try to keep warm, but the clouds are thick. You rub your hands over your shoulders. You shiver. You’re lost.

Suddenly, the sun breaks through the clouds and glitters in the hoarfrost on the branches. The sunrays warm you, and the frost on the trees and grass starts melting. The clouds are gone, and everything glitters with thawed water. The forest is one crystal, refracting light in all directions. You take off your coat. Take off your scarf. Gloves and boots are left behind in your wake. Everything is wet, but warm.

The trees come to life. The forest is green again. A gentle warm breeze caresses your skin. Flowers are growing so fast you can watch them grow. Nature is in full bloom. Behind a tree trunk you can see hair moving in the wind. Long black hair. A figure darts between the tree lines. Someone you know, but can’t remember. She pauses, her back to you, and you see the swell of her hips and curve of her breasts. She turns to you. Her skin is dark brown, and her hair trails to her soft ass. She smiles at you, teasing plump and delicious lips. She turns from you and is gone. You search for her, and all you can follow are wisps of long black hair between the trees.

You go deeper into the forest, looking for her. The springtime forest welcomes you in its folds. You’re not lost; you’re exploring. You shed more of your clothes and give chase after the black hair. You feel the warm air between your legs and over your arms. You are free.

And wet.

*******

My first thought when I wake up is that this is not my apartment. The room is dark. Heavy shades cover the windows and no light gets through. I reach for my phone or my pants to try and figure out the time. Instead, I find soft hair.

I roll over and see a woman snuggled next to me. I can tell she’s not wearing any shirt or bra from her back. I sit up and try to get a better look at my surroundings. This isn’t my apartment. This isn’t Carl. When was the last time I woke up anywhere without Carl? It’s been years, right?

Then last night comes to me. Carl’s disgusting flailing on the bed. His voice calling Reyna’s name. Leaving the apartment. Coming to June’s apartment. It’s all jumbled with these strange dreams I’ve been having. Something about an orchard or a forest. It’s all a blur when I first wake up.

This must be June’s apartment, and the woman next to me must be June. I lean over her and try to get a look at her face. Yes, it’s June. I’m in her apartment. I’m in bed. I look around the room. There are rose petals everywhere and candles. Next to the bed is a strap-on with a harness. It looks untouched. Thank God. I know I was vulnerable last night. I was scared, but how far did I go?

June stirs and rolls over, her eyes open. When she sees me, she smiles. “Good morning, beautiful,” she whispers.

“Uh, hi,” I mutter.

“Sleep well?”

“Uh, I think so.”

June sits up. The blanket falls from her, and her breasts are bare. Of course they’re bare, Sarah, she has no bra on.

June notices my eyes, and smiles. “Like what you see?” she teases.

I can only nod. I do. I love what I see. I feel myself getting wet. Wetter. I’m already wet. I always wake up wet these days. Simultaneously, a hunger and shame burn in me. I want her. I want her right now. I want her tits and her lips and that playful smile running all over my body. And I shouldn’t. Part of me knows I’ve never thought of June this way before. I’ve appreciated her beauty, but I’ve never wanted to devour it. This part of me knows to blame Reyna. Reyna is doing to me whatever it is she’s done to Maria. I just left my boyfriend’s apartment, for crying out loud. I’m not gay. I’m not a lesbian.

June moves towards me on the bed and slides her hand between my legs before I can stop her. “Oh, yes,” she says with a smile. “Someone wants me badly.” Her finger slides between the lips of my pussy, and I gasp. She bites her lips. I want to bite them too. I want to kiss and lick and feel those lips in every way possible.

A small voice tells me it’s wrong. This is strange. This is manufactured. This is exactly what Reyna wants. I ignore that small voice and kiss June, tackling her back onto the bed. She lets out a giggle, and I let out something closer to a roar.

I grind into her leg, my body begging for more from her. She gives me two fingers, and then three up my pussy. I ride on top of her, cowgirl, grinding into her hand. Her other hand paws at my breasts, and my hips buck even more, wanting her deeper inside of me.

Beneath me, June is a delight. She’s soft and beautiful. She’s sexy and flirty. But more than all of that, she’s slutty. What girl takes a practical stranger into their bed? Flashes of last night come to me as we go. I remember her on her knees. I remember her being a good girl. I remember that she needs to me to be in charge. She is a slut, and she needs a goddess to take control.

I arch my back and run my hands through my hair. I’ve never felt sexy before, but when I see June’s eyes go wide as she beholds her goddess, I cum. My whole body shivers, and the quivering in my thighs won’t stop even after I roll off of June and her fingers come out of me. Nothing can stop the rolls of pleasure crashing throughout my body.

I lie next to her in a transcendent state. My soul has left my body and hangs above the room, watching the scene. Next to me, June touches herself. She starts to call herself a slut, a little whore, a filthy cunt, and then she cums as well. She rolls over and nestles against me, suckling on my breasts. More images of last night run through my mind: our first kiss. I lift her lips to mine and kiss her passionately. I see her desperation from last night to eat me out, her eagerness to serve. I run my hand through her hair and call her a good girl. She hums with delight. I guide her head down between my legs and let her pleasure her goddess.

And I am very pleased.

*******

June and I shower together after more play. She washes my pussy like a good girl. She makes me breakfast, and I get to work unpacking my things and getting comfortable. June says I can stay as long as I want. She offers me a key, which I take with a thrill running up through my body. She’s quite devoted, my little pet.

I’d never met someone so eager to serve. I keep trying to do simple things like set the table or make coffee. She won’t let me do anything. She is truly happiest when she is serving someone else. I’m uncomfortable with all the attention. It creates a helplessness in me. Carl never did anything around the house. It’s a habit of mine to serve. Apparently, it’s a habit June wants to break me of.

And as much as she calls me her goddess, I don’t feel like a goddess. I’m still me. Yes, I’ve got this horrendously insecure girl who wants to serve me eating me out on the regular. But that doesn’t make me a goddess. I don’t know if that even makes me a lesbian. Who wouldn’t want to have a beautiful tongue eat them out? At some points, it’s all pleasure and biochemistry telling us it doesn’t matter what rubs your clit, it feels good to have your clit rubbed. I want time to figure this out, time to think, but June is always hovering around me, asking me what else I want. Half the time I’m making up requests just so she can obey. She shivers whenever I tell her what I want. This is for her, not me. Right?

After breakfast, she heads off to work, and I get to work as well. I slog through another stack of terrible romance novels about men who are emotionally repressed but desperately good looking and women who appear strong on the surface but really need a good man to complete them by the end of the novel. A lot of my feedback is harshly worded.

I look for something to eat for lunch, but June doesn’t have much going on. She’s got ramen and bread and peanut butter for the most part. The poor girl must be starving. I decide to surprise her and go grocery shopping. I know she doesn’t make much, and this is the least I can do to help her out. At the store, I realize that all my cards are linked with Carl’s, and that I should probably cancel them and get new cards and accounts as soon as possible. Any link to Carl is a link to Reyna.

After shopping, I make dinner. Nothing fancy: some sage, sausage, and butternut squash with plenty of butter. I put that in some ravioli and cook it. I then make a simple white wine sauce to go over it. It’s a delight to make anything other than spaghetti for once.

June comes home delighted to my cooking. We eat. After dinner, she keeps eating …

******

You walk through an orchard. The warm air is thick and warm, the end of summer. You peel off your shirt and pants. Even your panties and bra feel constricting, but you leave them on.

Deep inside of you, a hunger burns. You hear your stomach growling and flush with embarrassment. You should satisfy your hungers. You climb one of the trees and pick up a ripe red apple. It looks juicy. You close your eyes and inhale the aroma. It smells like summer and sun. You feel the direction of the wind change in your long hair.

You open your eyes again, eager to eat the apple. In your hand you hold a beautiful breast. You smell again, and the crisp and fresh scent of apple calms you. You examine the breast in your hand, a perfect tit. The nipples are pointy. They are dark pink. Your mouth is still open. Your mouth is wet with saliva. The hunger in you still burns.

You lick the nipple. You suck on it. Your tongue swirls around it. You nibble it. It is warm and soft. You flick your tongue over the nipple and taste the almost salty sweetness of the breast. The nipple hardens and you suckle. Milk floods your mouth, warm and sweet like honey. You drink and feel the milk fill you. It reaches down to your toes and up to your soft and spongey mind. Everything is thick and sweet. The apples are the breasts and the milk and you hunger. You sigh with relief and joy. You are home.

*******

I hear my alarm going off and want to smash the stupid phone. Last night was late. Again. It’s been like this all week. Each morning June and I wake up and she services my wet pussy. Each night we make out until I get tired of her begging to eat my out. She eats me out, often repeatedly, and I pass out.

I have a sex life that is exhausting. It was never like this with Carl. There wasn’t a desperation to see each other again or the need to fuck one last time before we fell asleep. June is never satisfied with serving me. She wants another command. She wants me to have another orgasm. There is an abyss of her sexual energy that I can’t fill.

And I never tire of the orgasms. It’s like I’m catching up for years of deprivation with Carl. June makes fun of me for my sexual naiveté. Two nights ago, she used the dildo on me to help me cum from the g-spot. Apparently, orgasms from your clit is different than orgasms from the g-spot. I’d never cum from g-spot stimulation. At first I thought something was wrong, like I had to go to the bathroom, but June helped me relax and it was different than my clit. If my clit is like thunder booming through my body, than the g-spot is like being the thunder itself.

I roll over and find June snuggled against me. We’ve almost done away with blankets and modesty entirely. I like to wear clothes to be comfortable, but unless she’s going to work or returning from work, June prefers to be nude always. I don’t mind.

But my eyes go straight to her breasts and don’t look away. When did her breasts become so … erotic? I’d seen girls naked before. I’ve been in a changing room backstage at a play or in a locker room at a gym. Boobs are a part of life; you’re going to see them. But this is something new. I see her breasts, and all I can do is imagine touching them, holding them, squeezing them, licking them, biting them, tasting them. They are different than a shoulder or a stomach. They aren’t simply beautiful; they’re mesmerizing. I feel heat running through my body, down my stomach and up my thighs to my crotch.

"I can smell your hunger,” purrs June without opening her eyes.

“I love your tits,” I mumble. June sits up, and I get a better look at them. They’re perfect. Like … apples. Small, but they look delicious.

“Oh really?” she says, arching an eyebrow. “You’ve never shown much interest in them before.” She’s right. I love kissing her. I love when she eats me out. But who wouldn’t? She’s a great kisser. And her tongue is better than any vibrator I’ve ever owned. Sleeping with her is different than being attracted to her. But now …

“How very stupid of me,” I whisper. I lean in close to her chest. She wraps her hand around the back of my neck and guides me to her nipples. I let my mouth hover over it, marveling at how beautiful they are. I’ve never done this before, but I guess I say that every day now. Everything is new with June. New and wonderful.

I wrap my lips around the nipple, but don’t suck. June takes in a sharp breath, and I let my tongue slip out between my lips and flick her nipple. Her back arches, and she pulls my face harder against her breast. I suckle and nibble at first, but when she starts bucking her hips and insisting more, I suck with ferocity.

June is late to work that day. She enjoys my new hunger, but then I need to taste the other nipple. She plays with herself, and I taste her over and over again. She tastes me, and rubs my clit until I orgasm. She tries to climb out of the bed, but I want more of her breasts. I hold them in my hands while she sits on top of me. I flick the nipples between my fingers, and she bucks wildly. She likes it rough. The more I pull and twist, the harder her hips grind into me. She plays with herself, pumping two fingers up her pussy while I pull on her tits. I’m afraid I’ll hurt her, but she begs for more and for it to be harder. I oblige, and she cums. She tries to get out of bed again, but I wonder what it’s like to be so rough. I ask her to do that to me while I play with myself. I don’t like it as much and ask her to stop halfway through. She takes this as a sign to leave, but I pull her back into bed and kiss her everywhere. Everywhere but her pussy.

I don’t think she minds being late to work. I’ll make it up to her with a fancy dinner. I go grocery shopping again. It’s taking time to separate my accounts from Carl, especially when I’m trying to avoid talking to him at all costs. I get a new card and open a new bank account. I get a friend to sneak into my apartment and get some of my clothes, but more importantly, I ask her to get my identifying documents.

Most of my time each day is spent practically divorcing Carl, and we weren’t even married. Someone should have told me when I moved in with him that breaking up would be such a bitch. He’s stopped trying to call me, which is good. Maria hasn’t stopped trying to call me. She leaves voicemails, and I listen to every one of them. I listen to her tone and word choice. Is she brainwashed? Is this her or Reyna? But all I hear is pain, authentic Maria pain. I know in her mind I’ve betrayed her, but in reality, everything I do is done for her. It’s all to get her away from Reyna.

Part of me knows I should work to get Carl and Jace away from Reyna. And there are other girls Reyna has as well. One I think was named Anna at the dinner, but I saw several back in the kitchen. I don’t know how many people she...