"Oh, fuck," she muttered as her fingers traced her vaginal lips. Janet was as turned on and looking for release. She was sitting in her traditional spot overlooking the college soccer fields, watching the girls' soccer team practice. Janet had realized back in high school that she was sexually attracted to girls, and she had a definite preference for athletes. She had discovered this spot a while back. The university wasn't that far from where she lived, and was suitably overgrown so that no one down on the field without a set of binoculars had a chance in hell of seeing her. And she like to watch those girls play while she played with herself. She leaned back in her lawn chair, cupping one of her breasts while she fingered her pussy with her free hand. She would occasionally run the breast-hand down her rock-hard, sculpted body so to double the effort on her moist sex. She noticed the goalie was taking shots, and Janet redoubled the speed of her fingers. You see, Janet REALLY liked the goalie. Her name was Toni Braxton, which had gotten her teased quite a bit in high school because of it sounded like a guys name. But Toni was the kind of girl that was supposed to leave town for an Ivy League school and a get a frat-boy boyfriend/husband-to-be and a degree in accounting after she graduated. It wasn't like the university she was going to wasn't prestigious, which in fact it was; it just didn't fit the story Janet had created in her head. The two girls had played on the soccer team together for a year, until Janet's "coming out" with the young English teacher caused problems with her for the other girls. Janet heard that Toni had actually stood up for her when no one else would. Janet had wanted to thank her, but she had transferred to another school so she wouldn't have to deal with the constant string of acidic attacks. Thinking of Toni made Janet even more aroused. She slid her tight, well-worn jeans all the way down to her knees so she could work on of her fingers into her ass while teasing her clit with her thumb. She pinched one of her nipples, then the other, then started rubbing her mound, wishing it were Toni. Toni was one of those girls who was just intrinsically cute. She wore her medium length black hair up in pigtails all the time and her hazel eyes sparkled underneath long lashes. She wasn't cut like Janet was; rather she had just a little of baby fat to fill out her very delectable curves. She definitely had some muscle there (as most soccer players did), but she still had a look of softness to her. She had a nice set of boobs and a lightly rounded but still firm butt. Janet's fingers were working frantically towards the goal of achieving orgasm. All the girls but Toni had headed for the showers, and she was just doing a few last-minute stretches. The sight of her bending over and hugging her legs was enough to put Janet over the edge. When Janet achieved release, she did it with gusto. Her body tensed up and started shaking. She let out a series of low, gasping noises before her body arched itself in the final stages of her ecstasy. She sat back into her chair, letting the breeze roll over her sweaty body and waiting for her energy to recover a bit. She looked out onto the field, and Toni was still there. She had her stuff in hand, and actually seemed to be looking towards the hill where Janet was sitting. Janet didn't move. It was not likely she could be seen, much less identified from this distance through the terrain but she wasn't going to take any chances. Finally, Toni turned and headed back to join the other girls.
Rose quickly got dressed and headed back through the woods to her house. It wasn't much of a house, but it was hers. Her father had run off with a county-fair queen a number of years ago, while her mother had waited until Janet had turned eighteen before jumping in a big rig with a nice trucker she had just met and hadn't been heard from since. Apparently, whatever maternal instincts she might have had diminished when she found out her daughter was gay, and hence unlikely to find a rich husband who would support them both. That was almost two years ago. The house (using the term "house" loosely) had been handed down to her father by his crazy father and by default to Janet. They had basically stuck a barn over a large basement and had attached a garage with an overhang next to it. The storm cellar was actually a very comfortable apartment, so that was where she actually lived. Her grandfather had converted it into a fully self-sufficient bomb shelter back in the 50's. It had its own shower, kitchen and phone line. And it was pretty much sound proof. You could get in by going down the concrete stairs at the side of the house or, when it was raining, using a spiral staircase that opened up into a closet in the house. Her grandfather had been paranoid, but Janet thought those stairs were really cool! The upstairs house was both her personal gym, with a punching bag and full weight set, and her office. After her mom took off, she needed to support herself. Her dad had left his tow-truck behind, so Janet had started working for a couple of repair-shops. Some of them were initially reluctant to work with a woman, particularly one as young as Janet, but her automotive knowledge impressed them into giving her a shot. The one thing her otherwise useless father had done was to teach her about cars. She had rebuilt her first engine when she was 13 years old, and she had never looked back. She had been a good student, but the sudden vanishing act of her support system had left her unable to attend regular college, so she took the tow-truck gig. Her goal was to eventually open her own garage, specializing in domestic cars. When she wasn't on call, she took classes from the community college on how to run a small business, and she picked up tips from some of the guys she worked for. It wasn't the glamorous life little girls dreamed of, but she got by. Since the weather was nice that day, she took the quick route to the cellar through the outer doors. She needed to get cleaned up after her little "session" on the hill. She shirked her clothes and headed for the shower. She took a moment to look over her body to see if anything was getting flabby. It wasn't. She took great pride in her appearance. She had long been a workout fanatic, even back in middle school. She was five foot seven inches of lean muscle. She wasn't overbuilt like a professional bodybuilder, but she had clearly defined muscles in places where most people didn't know they had places. After she had gotten kicked off the soccer team, she had started taking boxing lessons at the community center, and took an immediate liking to the sport. She hit the heavy bag at least a half an hour every day, which helped keep her toned. And she liked being able to see the definition, so she had shaved almost all the hair from her body. All except her mohawk. She had naturally red hair that she had grown long until high school. At that point she had shaved both sides of her head, leaving a two-inch streak running straight down the center of her skull. Because the hair that remain was long and because she never used hair spray or anything like it, her hair almost resembled the mane of a horse, which was just fine with Janet. The end of it almost reached her belt-line. Her wardrobe consisted mostly of faded denim or leather pants and she had a bunch of single color, sleeveless cotton shirts. Her breasts were firm enough that she really never war bras, or underwear for that matter. The only clothes she actually took pride in were her biker boots and a long leather duster that ended right above her ankles, which she had inherited from her grandfather. But she only took that out for special occasions, like when she was looking for some action. Action had not come to her often. It wasn't that she was unattractive. Even with the haircut and her style of dress, most people thought she was quite a looker. But she had developed a somewhat distrustful attitude towards the world, which is why her isolated life didn't seem that bad to her. She would occasionally bed some well-built but dumb-as-a-post trailer park wife who was looking to spice up her meaningless existence by having a bisexual fling with a bad girl like Janet, but they never meant much to her. She was content to have her periodic affairs and her afternoons on the hill overlooking the soccer fields. And she had a lot of toys she used when she was at home. She was on call in the evenings that week. School was letting out, so students who had abused their cars all semester were trying to get out of town and their overloaded vehicles were always breaking down. She made pretty good money that week. Enough to pay the bills, put food on the table, and put a little away in her savings account. Someday, she was going to open that garage. On the last day of her workweek, she was headed home when she got a call. While normally she would ignore it, it was raining hard and the thought of someone being stranded out there in the rain bothered her just a bit. The caller had reported a street name that wasn't far at all from her house, which is why they had called her. It didn't take her long to find the vehicle. It was one of those cute little new Volkswagen Beetle convertibles. Call her a purist, but Janet liked the older ones better. She backed up to the front of the car and grabbed her cheap umbrella and made her way out into the storm. She knocked on the driver's window. When the window rolled down, Janet found herself looking at cute girl with very distinct pigtails.
