[*Anya*]

She loved her car. It was her mother's 1968 red Mustang with black leather seats. Every time she slid into those crackling leather seats, she would offer up a prayer to her mom for giving her the car. She loved the cold chill of the seats in winter and the hot softness snd the sensuous way they would cup her ass in the summer.

It was not just the connection to her teen-years but the connection to her mom. Those years were filled with conflict but underneath it all, she knew her mother loved her dearly.

As she drove, she cranked the window down to let the cold chill of the autumn night blow her hair back from her face. She thought about the first time she climbed into the cramped back seat of the car-not with a boy but a girl.

She mused to herself, "I wonder what ever happened to Iris?" She ran her tongue over her lips at the memory of that night. She was the aggressor for the first time. Flirting and gently pushing Iris closer and closer to that first time.

She knew she was always attracted to girls beginning in Junior High. Why else would her stomach clench, her palms sweat, whenever she was near one of the butch JV girls? Afraid, always afraid to admit to herself what she truly was.

Until that first night when she parked the car in a far corner of the parking lot and reached over and kissed Iris. Their lips seemed to meld together, breathing as one, tongues touching, licking and the need to touch each other overcame any sense of reason or logic.

As one, they opened their doors, without a word-as though speaking would spoil the moment. She still acutely recalled every second as Iris slid down the leather seat. The smell of the leather, the fresh sea-smell of her hair and how hard it was to tug down those tight jeans in the limited space but pull them down, she did.

Her need to smell Iris, to taste and lick her was overwhelming. She slid down in the seat herself, cupping Iris's ass in both hands and almost came herself at just the delicious smell of Iris's pussy. Gently, she touched her tongue to the wetness. She could feel it trickling down to her hands.

She remembered everything she had read during her babysitting jobs in all the sex books the dentist and his wife had. "Go slow", she kept repeating in her head but all she really wanted to do was to drink that wetness. She slowed her breathing down and began to lick Iris.

Tongue flattened, stroking, licking, sucking until she could feel the wet begin to drip onto the leather. Iris was quiet at first. She feared perhaps she was doing it wrong. Then Iris began to make sounds she recognized from herself as she fully engaged in the inexorable progression to orgasm.

When Iris began begging, "Don't stop, don't stop", she knew that Iris was going to cum. She still remembered the sense of utter satisfaction and pride at being able to connect so totally with Iris. It was at that moment of orgasm that she knew, with no more fear; that she was truly a lesbian.

She shook her head at the memory, squirming in her leather seat, feeling that heaviness and want in her own pussy. She drove on, smiling, knowing that her butch would soon be taking care of that need.