Nightly Needs Ch. 02

by Olivia Palmer, © 2017

*

They met in the tight, bright, private institutional enclosure reserved for inmates to converse with lawyers, relations, and pissed-as-hell ex-mothers-in-law. The inch of plexiglass between them was Stef's only salvation.

Beverly seethed, perched at the edge of her cheap plastic chair, as she watched her former daughter-in-law shuffle into the little room in her silly institutional scrubs and cute spiky blonde hair. The tall, thick, butchy guard escorting her stood two feet behind Slimy Stef's chair, staring through her with empty eyes.

Stef clearly relished this chance to see her ex-mother-in-law. She made strong, sustained eye contact with Beverly, who of course instantly took it as a challenge and held the stare. Stef grinned from ear to ear and took her sweet time picking up the phone on her side, keeping their eyes locked. The bitch was showing off. Looking sexy. Somehow. Some way. Beverly squinted and tried not to notice her body's reaction to seeing the younger woman, but she couldn't help herself.

In the midst of her increasingly moist response, Beverly tried reminding herself what an utter bitch the younger woman truly was. But even in prison, dressed like a derelict nursing student, already a little puffy and pale, Stef was still a gorgeous, clever, powerful-looking succubus. Beverly's heart fluttered to see her, she finally had to admit. The lesbian within, lurking ever so close to the surface these days, liked what she saw. Christina had picked a gorgeous woman to entangle herself with, there could be no doubt. Even in the ugly gray outfit, her ex-daughter-in-law's lush curves and deep sensual appeal were unmistakable. Stef was still as hot -- and yet as cool -- as ever.

Taking a deep breath and reluctantly closing her eyes, Beverly listened for the she-devil's soft breath on the line, for her to speak first.

"Well now," she purred. "If it isn't Momma Bev. How are you doing? What brings you around to see little old me?"

Her confident, calm, pleasant voice brought Beverly up out of her chair in an instant, knocking it in a clatter to the linoleum floor behind her.

"You BITCH!" she spat into the phone. "What the FUCK did you do to my daughter?!"

Stef blinked and smiled with genuine pride. Then she shrugged and nodded at the older woman, staring her down. She leaned back and gazed at her with clear, happy blue eyes. Beverly's face was almost crammed against the plexiglass, glaring down at her daughter's tormentor, her free hand pressing her palm against the wall between them, shoving it so hard her entire arm began to ache, along with her back.

But her pussy, for some reason, swelled up. Called to her. Made her want to keep looking into those pretty eyes. Made her want to keep listening to her words.

Beverly shuddered and tried to collect herself, but she still couldn't look away. She realized that Stef had said something important to her, just a moment before, practically at the same time Beverly had been snarling at her, but she hadn't understood the words. She'd been so angry and then just as quickly she'd been so deeply distracted by her juicy urges. What the fuck was wrong with her all of a sudden?!

Blinking, Beverly shook her head and then stared hard at the table top between them, rather than at her seductive, serene daughter-in-law. That seemed to help get her back into attack mode, and Beverly sighed with relief. Then she set her jaw and got ready to go at it again.

Before she could, though, Stef said something else. "Let me tell you this," the beautiful thirty-something drawled, cocking her head and looking up at her former mother-in-law with a confident, sexy grin, "I sure didn't do anything to her that she didn't want. You can quote me on that one."

Beverly ground her teeth together and hissed into the phone. "What the FUCK does that mean, you goddamn fucking CUNT?"

Her ex-daughter-in-law shrugged again, smiled with more lewd pride, and then winked at her. Winked!

"You need to ask her that one yourself," she suggested.

The GALL! Beverly sucked hard on her teeth, then slapped the plexiglass between them with a loud whack! She kept on staring into her eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes. She tried to burn holes through them with her own. She absentmindedly shook out her stinging hand, then ran it over her messy bun, tucking some stray wisps back behind her ears. Her lobes were hot to the touch! She realized her entire head was flushed -- her scalp, her face, her neck was sweaty. Her anger felt like it could almost make her actually come to a boil.

The entire situation enraged her. The whole time they'd been talking so far, Beverly had been on her feet, angry, attacking. But this sex-witch, somehow she stayed calm. Cool. Infuriatingly confident and composed. Oh, but how she wanted to kill her at that moment! The arrogance!! Acting like such a fucking know-it-all, such a goddamned gold-plated skank with her ex-wife's own mother right there in front of her!

Again, in the midst of her rage, Beverly belatedly realized Stef had just said something. But what? She couldn't quite catch it.

At nearly the same moment Beverly shuddered all over. A delicious wave of pre-orgasmic pleasure rippled through her entire body. She realized instantly that her panties were now soaked and that her pussy would be hot to the touch. And oh, did she want to touch it! A slow, thick dribbling of her juices began to trickle down the insides of her thighs. She could already smell herself. Her head felt light as she reached down with her free hand and rubbed her fingers over her tight blouse, across her suddenly aching nipples.

"Beverly?" Stef quietly asked. "Are you all right?"

Was she? Beverly stopped moving her hand for a moment and thought about it. What was going on? What was she doing? Touching herself? Rubbing her own breasts?! She looked down at her fingers, the tips pressing tightly against the top of her left nipple, which throbbed and begged to be rubbed some more.

"What the FUCK?!" Beverly gasped, jerking her hand away and ducking her head in a hot flush of shame. She dropped the phone on the table and staggered back as quickly as her tight gray pencil skirt would allow. Her eyes flashed at Stef, but the younger woman still sat there, smiling casually, amused, watching her former mother-in-law's every move.

That smug bitch! Beverly balled her fists at her sides. She took a deep breath and a few small steps forward, planning to bend over and shout at the phone from close range. But as she began to bend, she couldn't help herself -- she shot a glare of pure hate through the plexiglass. Daggers. From her eyes to that bitch's. At the same moment, though, she noticed Stef's mouth moving.

She saw words. Something. What? She could hear the sounds quite clearly, the phone was close enough now for that. But, frustratingly, once again she couldn't quite figure out what was being said!

Oh well, Beverly thought, I'll just wait for her to repeat it I guess. As she waited, her hands drifted to her thighs, and she began rubbing at the elastic lace-trimmed tops of her stockings beneath the light stretchy fabric of her skirt. She loved that particular pencil design. It had a small slit at the bottom, in the back, but she could spread her legs well enough if she really needed to. It had a lace-up tie in the back also, at the waist, but it was just a simple reach and tug to pull it loose. Then, just one simple push... a little wiggle... and her skirt would be around her ankles on the floor!

And her blouse? Well, it was her favorite, her most expensive tailored "tightie-whitie", hugging her ribs and tummy below her breasts, which it then relented only-so-slightly around, snugly supporting them almost as much as her lacy white demi-cup bra, with the top button open, the throat of the shirt pulled well-apart, exposing her skin deep into her tanned cleavage. All it would take is just three... more... buttons... pop! pop! pop! and it would be off!! She could just drop it on the floor next to the skirt.

And that bra? Easy! One little reach-snap-shrug... and she could toss it onto the table in front of her, next to that phone with the funny sounds... and if she stepped out of the puddle of skirt around her feet, well, it would then be a simple thing to hook her thumbs into the little hip straps of her white thong panties, bend a little, and slip them right off. She could lay them on top of her thin sexy bra and slide them both through that narrow slot in the plexiglass on top of the table, just high and wide enough for legal documents or thin books and such... but now she could send a much more fun and delicious package to her mistress, couldn't she? Her warm, moist underthings!

"Ma'am!" came a loud, strong, sudden voice a few feet away from Beverly. She turned to see a tall, muscular, frowning woman bursting through the door to the small room, her uniform jangling with all manner of things hanging from her broad belt, her big hands reaching out, gesturing at her, at the floor.

"Sasha, what the-" the woman huffed, turning to look with confusion at the guard on the other side of the plexiglass, still standing behind the seated Stef, staring straight ahead at nothing.

"Sasha!" the guard on Beverly's side shouted, then bent and picked up the phone, her voice terse with command. "Prisoner, put your guard on the line."

Beverly saw Stef smile even wider and slowly turn her head to say something to the guard behind her, whose eyes instantly snapped into focus, looking first at Stef, then at the two women on the other side of the plexiglass. When Sasha spied Beverly, her mouth fell open, and she clearly said, "Oh my God!" even though neither of them could hear her on the other side of the plexiglass. Stef's guard took the phone, unable to peel her eyes away from Beverly.

As soon as the receiver was near her head, the guard on Beverly's side barked, "How could you let this happen? Return the prisoner to her cell and report to monitoring immediately!" Sasha nodded, visibly shocked, shaken, gulping -- but still staring hard at Beverly, who began to blush and dropped her eyes to gaze at the surface of the table. Why was she gawking at her like that? How rude!

The guard next to Beverly was still talking. "I'm going to have this guest escorted from the facility, and then I will deal with you!"

"Wh- what?" Beverly stammered, turning to look at the guard. "Why do I have to leave? I'm not done!"

The guard's jaw set, her mouth curling into a snarl, she clearly seemed about to blast Beverly with some sort of institutional attitude problem. She was pointing at the floor beside and behind Beverly, which boggled her of course. Why was the husky woman doing that? Did she want her to get on the floor? How bizarre!

But then the guard stiffened, the phone still pressed to her ear. She blinked. Listened... and the longer she listened the more her body relaxed. Finally, she smiled brightly at Beverly and chirped, "Oh, I'm so sorry to disturb you, ma'am! Please finish!" She held out the phone then quickly left the room, closing the door behind her with a click.

How nice of her, Beverly thought. She turned back toward the table just in time to see Stef stuffing something soft and white into the side pocket of her gray scrubs. Sasha had already returned the phone to Beverly's daughter-in-law and was once again standing still and silent behind the prisoner, looking at nothing.

Beverly raised the phone to her ear, and immediately Stef's calm, beautiful voice spoke to her.

"Why don't you sit down," she intoned, "and then I'll tell you everything you'll need to know."

Stef's gorgeous eyes held the older woman's with amused ease. Why, Beverly wondered, would I ever want to look away? Stef is so pretty! She turned excitedly and picked up the chair.

It was then that she noticed someone had left their clothes on the floor right next to where the chair had toppled over. How odd! Why would the guards allow someone to just toss their nice skirt and blouse on those dingy tiles and leave them there? Obviously that was an expensive ensemble, too, some truly tasty threads. What a waste. She thought minimum security prisons were relatively top notch. Well, apparently that wasn't the case here!

She sniffed, a bit indignant at the trashy state of the interview room. Then Beverly rearranged the chair properly and sat in it. Oh! Cold on her bottom! Even the chairs were sub-par!

She shivered and tried to ignore the icy plastic on her butt and the backs of her thighs, but she could feel her skin tighten all over into sensitive prickles of gooseflesh. Her nipples felt it the worst! They were terribly sore all of a sudden! They'd feel so much better if she could just rub them a little.

Beverly scooted her chair closer to the shallow table between the two of them and snuck a quick drag of her fingers across her fat, rock-hard nips, hoping Stef wouldn't notice. But Stef just smiled and kept talking, like she'd already been doing, staring into Beverly's eyes and saying something into that phone up against her head, words and words and words... and Beverly realized Stef wasn't looking at her hand at all. And why should she? Why couldn't a woman scratch an itch while talking on the phone? People did it all the time, didn't they?

So Beverly relaxed and rubbed and rubbed at her nipples. Then pinched them. Pulled on them. They were just high enough and big enough, even, that she could raise them, one at a time, and suck her whole aureola into her mouth and nurse on herself -- and, oh! That was much better!

Glancing up after a while, Beverly noticed Stef watching her silently, smiling her quiet, confident smile. Maybe she'd done enough now, Beverly thought. Her nipples felt amazing, her whole chest was hot-feeling, flushed. In fact, nice warm sensations were radiating all through her. She lowered her breast, releasing the aureola from her slobbery mouth, a long rope of drool trailing from her bottom lip to the swollen, distended nipple. Beverly's hand released her flesh and collected the rivulet of saliva, smearing it back and forth across her chest, making her skin glisten so nicely.

Stef grinned and nodded at her.

"Good, Beverly, very good," she purred. "I really like how you keep looking into my eyes, by the way. Makes me feel special. Girl like me, locked up and down on her luck... you know, it means a lot, you doing that."

Despite the sudden surge of joy that washed over Beverly to hear those words of praise, a small part of her mind began shouting at her, from deep inside, begging to be heard. Something wasn't right. Something was just... off... something was just... just... wrong with this situation!

"Yeah..." Stef continued, "that's it, Beverly. Keep looking at me. I want to look at you, too. You're so gorgeous, you know. Maybe even prettier than your slutty little daughter."

Christina? Slutty? Well of course she was! She was Beverly's daughter, after all! That's how any beautiful mother wants her beautiful daughter to be, isn't it? That's how it works. A sexy young woman uses her charms. Her pretty face. Her tinkling laugh. Her soft long hair. Her hungry mouth. Her pouting lips. Her long tongue. Her pert breasts. Her long stiff nipples. Her flat tanned tummy. Her delicious curving hips. Her hard round butt. Her tight hot pussy. Her sweet tasty asshole. Her long legs. Her delicate arching feet. Her adorable suckable toes.

Beverly knew every inch of Christina's lithe, athletic body. She couldn't help but spend several delicious minutes breathlessly staring at her in the mornings before she left for work, admiring her daughter's naked beauty. Beverly relished sniffing the air around Christina's unconscious form, smelling her musky aroma, loving her mussy hair and the sweaty sheen on her skin, the drool trickling out of the corner of her mouth, her pink nipples riding up and down atop her B-cup breasts as her daughter finally settled into an exhausted, deep sleep.

Stef was still talking, but Beverly couldn't hear most of it. The words were being drowned out by some nearby woman who was obviously in heat. She heard sighs. Then moaning. Soon the room was filled with "Ohhhh..." and "Oh yessss...." and such, on and on, echoing all about the small space.

Who was that, anyway? How could she possibly be able to hear some other woman so close by? It was like she was right there in the room, interrupting her conversation with all those lusty noises! What kind of shoddy setup had they stuck her in? Piss-poor architectural design, terrible ventilation, what the hell? There was no call for such short-shrifted workmanship in a supposedly secure facility. She'd really need to have a word with the warden on her way out. There should be no way Beverly was able to hear such private pleasures in a place like that!

But that distraction was soon enough just a normal part of the moment. Beverly quickly found herself used to it. Liking it. Why shouldn't a woman in prison know sexual self-pleasure? It was likely the only thing she still had control over, at least in theory, right?

Beverly found herself deeply enjoying the sighs, the moans, the groans. They seemed to only get louder the more she listened for them. It was like they were a part of her. She felt them rumbling through her own body, rising up and out of her own heaving chest, rasping through her own dry throat, trembling across her own parted lips. The more she stared into Stef's deep blues, the more she heard it, the more she felt it: such profound pleasure!

"That's it," Stef calmly encouraged her. "Keep going. Keep doing it... just... like... that...."

Doing what? Listening to that horny woman? Stef could be so strange sometimes!

And Beverly still had a tiny nagging thought at the back of her mind. What had been troubling her again? She struggled to remember. Something had been bothering her, right? Something she'd forgotten?

There was a break in the husky sounds of feminine arousal. As luck would have it, the lull came just as Beverly shifted around a little on the cheap institutional chair. The repositioning pressed some fresh cold plastic against her warm exposed skin. Then, in a flash, Beverly figured it out.

Her stockings! That was the problem! They had to come off, didn't they? Stef needed them. For that other pocket in her institutional scrubs, of course.

It only took a moment, then two tight light rolls of nude lycra were being slid through the little slot in the plexiglass, past the glossy red-bottomed heels that Beverly had regretfully removed and set, side-by-side on the narrow table.

"All right," Beverly finally sighed. "That's better."

"I agree," Stef purred, stuffing the thigh highs into her pocket and smiling. "You're doing such a wonderful job, Beverly."

Beverly beamed. Stef's words made her so happy! How could she have ever been mad at this precious girl, her sad, incarcerated, former daughter-in-law?!

She realized the moans and groans were still gone. She had a chance, just maybe, to get in a good conversation with her daughter's poor ex-wife before they returned!

Beverly leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table, gasping as her breasts pressed against the cold edge of the cheap laminated surface. Such temperature problems in this place too, she thought. Definitely sub par!

Nevertheless, Beverly ignored it and forged on, urgently pressing the phone closer to her face.

"Please, Steffi," she begged. "Tell me what I should ask Christina."

And Stef told her. Everything she needed to know.

But not until Beverly had finished scratching a new itch, lower down. Of course the best way to do it was with her bare feet up on the table, spread wide, and one of her black-and-white checked Loubuitons sliding up and down her slippery, hot crease. It wasn't until all three inches of the toe were inside her, though, that she finally felt like the itch was really getting what it deserved.