Fiction Friday: Deleted scenes of girl-on-girl love

Chapter five of The Case of the Cunning Linguist is currently up at Jukepop, so take a moment to pop over, read it and +Vote it.

I’ll wait.

Okay, if you’re back that means you’re ready for something more. The deleted scene that was a little too racy for Jukepop’s PG-13 restrictions, perhaps?

Here goes. Oh, and if you haven’t read the warnings on this blog yet, it’s fucking 18+ and this is gonna get graphic. Step off now if you’ve got issues.

“I love to do things the censors won’t pass.” -Marilyn Monroe

Everybody strapped in, vibrators at the ready?

Let’s play.


“Dreadful,” I said, squeezing my thighs together at the thought. I wondered if I could request that she reenact the scene for my own amusement. It would be terribly unprofessional, but why did it seem she was trying to turn me on with her come-hither gaze and fuck-me eyes? Even her tone had relaxed into a purr as she described Father O’Malley’s indiscretions. Clearly Sister Magdalena was no stranger to the erotic arts, but was she truly trying to seduce me?

“It was beautiful,” she sighed. “He was a fantastic lover, oddly enough. I had though he would be greedy, aiming only to have his vices satisfied, but he always tended to my needs first. That afternoon alone I had three orgasms beneath the Rose window, and two more on the altar. It was quite fulfilling.”

“Oh, my. Is it hot in here?” I asked, unbuttoning my blouse to expose my lace bra and heaving bosom.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Sister Magdalena smiled. “But now that you mention it, I suppose it is rather warm.” She stood up and, with practiced form, shimmied out of her skirt, blouse and undergarments.

Beneath the Snow White garb was heavenly perfection, in earthly form. Breasts as buoyant as if a surgeon had sculpted them, an hourglass shape as perfectly curved as Marilyn Monroe’s, and a neatly manicured landing strip leading to the doors of paradise. I knelt and prayed at this holiest of holies, tongue outstretched, a supplicant in search of confession. She tasted of warm honey, and I lapped her juices as if licking whipped cream from a bowl, aiming for the cherry in the middle.

As I buried my face inside of her, she moaned low and slow. Her hands slid into my hair, massaging my scalp as I licked and sucked, and her tone began to rise as I inserted one finger, then two, then three, my thumb circling the button of her clit, fingers flying up and down, back and forth, swirling and fluttering, looking for that perfect rhythm.

“Venus,” she finally gasped, “Let me taste you!”

We lay on the floor together in a textbook 69, exploring each other intimately. I faltered in my rhythm as the tip of her tongue touched my lips with an electric shock. The current sizzled through my loins, and I spread my legs wider as I felt the moist heat of my desire expanding outward. She gently caressed my blossoming pussy, making me groan with excitement. Finally, she leaned in again for a flat-tongued lick, slow and firm, from bottom to top.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned, as she pressed into me, one finger poised just above my clit. I tilted towards her, greedy for release, but she deftly tipped away, fueling my fire.

“Nipples,” she said, pushing me onto my back and climbing astride my body. “Oh, yes, yours are perfect!”

Dipping her thumbs into her mouth to moisten the tips, she began to make circling motions against each of my upturned nipples. I groaned helplessly as she massaged them, feeling the electricity racing from my breasts down to my pussy and back again. It was a complete current, lighting up my entire system, and I longed for her lips on mine once more.

Sensing my distress, she continued her explorations calmly, grinding her hips against mine as she continued to tweak and massage my nipples.

“Fuck yes,” I whispered.

She continued to rock gently, clit on clit, each of us sighing and gasping in turn. It was heavenly.

Just as I began to climax, there was a loud rapping on my office door.


Sister Magdalena was nonplussed, slipping three fingers inside me and clamping down on my clit.

“OH SWEET JESUS!” I shouted, coming hard against her hand. She was already halfway to her own orgasm, fingering herself vigorously with her opposite hand. She sucked in air and moaned loudly, her juices squirting in a stream between her fingers.

Sister Magdalena, the squirting nun, had just given me the best orgasm of my life. Maybe there was something to this god shit after all.


Want more from The Case of the Cunning Linguist? You can pre-order a copy of the full book (ebook or print) – out this September – by clicking here.