Juliet's Diary: My Secret Plague Journal (The Lesbian Diaries, #4) E-Book

Giselle Renarde

• Herausgeber: Giselle Renarde
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Juliet is young and in love. Problem is, there’s a pandemic gripping the planet. She knows she’s not supposed to leave the house, but her lust for her girlfriend makes her defiant. How can Juliet get close to Romi if she has to stay away?

Lesbian fiction from award-winning queer Canadian author Giselle Renarde.

Leseprobe

Juliet’s Diary

© May 2020 by Giselle Renarde

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.

Cover design © 2020 Giselle Renarde

First Edition 2020

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Table of Contents

Disclaimer

Juliet’s Diary

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Also in the series | The Lesbian Diaries: | Ariadne’s Diary | By Giselle Renarde

Bridie’s Diary | By Giselle Renarde

Cosima’s Diary | By Giselle Renarde

ABOUT GISELLE RENARDE

Juliet’s Diary

My Secret Plague Journal

The Lesbian Diaries

––––––––

By Giselle Renarde

1

I NEVER IMAGINED THINGS would escalate so quickly.

Seems like only days ago it was like, “Oh, there’s this virus halfway across the world, sucks to be them.”

Now it’s everywhere.

Now it’s us.

Or, that’s what the news is saying.  That’s what the politicians are saying.  That’s what my parents are saying.

It’s everywhere.  It’s bad.  It’s gonna get worse.

Stay home.

So yeah, okay, maybe if you’re eighty. But what if you’re eighteen or nineteen?  Who’s gonna get sick and die at my age?

This virus has radically fucked up my first year at university. Classes have already shifted online. Oh well.  It’s just as easy to skip an online class as it is to skip one in person. Maybe even easier.  As long as I can find someone who’ll sell me exam questions, I’m set. 

Worked in high school. That’s how I met Romi. She’s so smart. And she needed the money.

Not that I care about my education. I only enrolled in university because Dear Old Dad promised to pay me fifty grand if I didn’t move out right away.  Or, to put it less succinctly, he didn’t want me moving in with Romi and her whole consortium.

So I didn’t move out.

I stayed put.

And look where that bright decision landed me.

I swear, I’m never going to make another life decision based solely on money. Money isn’t everything. Anyway, if I got into a real jam, Dear Dad would bail me out for sure.  He says he wouldn’t.  He truly seems to believe an adult should be able to stand on her own two feet.  But, like, honestly!  If I needed the dough, he’d be there for me.  I know he would.

But if I'd moved in with Romi et al last summer, I wouldn’t be stuck here now. 

Mamma Mia and Father Knows Best are both deemed essential workers, obviously, so they’re pretty much never home.  And when they are home, they stay in the basement apartment, where Ty used to live.  Weird to think he’s my cousin and he’s not considered “family” anymore.  Like, he used to be family.  And now that he’s married to Vanessa, he’s her family and not ours?

Does that mean Romi’s roommates are a family now?  I hope so.  They’re, like, a chosen family anyway.  The Island of Misfit Queers. A Mountain of Queers.  Queer Mountain.  I should run that name by them—I bet they’d go for it.  They love naming things.  Especially the trans girls. They’ve got names for everything in the house.  There’s a lamp they call Larry. 

Soap Dee Spencer.

Count Spatula.

They have so much fun in Romi’s house, I swear.  I wanted so bad to live with them.  I should have just moved.

Except Father Christmas offered me a big payout to stay put.  Not just money, actually.  He was just about to buy a Beamer, and he told me if I went to school here in town and didn’t move out of Family Headquarters International, I could have my mother’s Lex and she would take the Merc. 

Dad’s not stupid.  No cash upfront.  I get one lump sum June 30th.  If I last that long, I’m free to move out July 1st.  No strings attached.

I got the car right away.

Seemed like a pretty sweet deal, until the virus happened.

Who even knows what life will be like in July?  Things could get even worse.

It’s not like we’re technically on lock-down right now.  Not here.  In some countries, they can’t even leave the house—not even to, like, go for a walk or something as basic as that.  I wonder if they’re allowed to walk their dogs?  If we were on lockdown here and you could only go out to walk your dog, I’d buy a dog.  I don’t even like dogs, but I’d buy one off the back of a truck. Anything to get out of this shack.

My parents have been serious as hell about this pandemic, right from the start. Okay, so maybe they have to take it seriously because of where they work.  If you’re around sick people every day, of course you don’t want to get sick yourself.  You don’t want to get your germs all over someone with a compromised immune system.  I get that.  I’m not stupid.  But I’m not my parents, either.  I don't work in a hospital.  Fine if they want to isolate themselves from me, but they shouldn’t expect me to change my life because of the jobs they do. 

They chose their career.  I didn’t pick my parents.

When there was only one case here in this country, right away my parents told me to cut out all physical contact with anyone.  Even them.

Okay, when was the last time I touched my parents?  When I was four?  We’re not exactly a huggy family, over here. 

But, more than that, do they really think a heartfelt request could keep me away from my girlfriend?  If Romi and I lived together, like we planned, she’d pretty much be my wife.  Why shouldn’t I touch my wife?  Why shouldn’t she touch me? 

Even with all this virus stuff going on, you can’t stop young people from doing what young people do.

My parents are educated individuals.  They should know this shit.

Teens gonna teens.

2

MOTHER GOOSE SKYPED me from the basement before leaving for her shift.  Daddy Dearest started at nine in the morning, but I know what he’s like.  He won’t come home tonight.  He’ll sleep at the hospital, if he sleeps at all.

And you know what that means...

Freedom!

As soon as the maternal force pulled out of the driveway, I grabbed my shit and I was outta there so fast.  My mother warned me to stay put, for the good of society.  But if my parents are never home and they’re living in the basement anyway, what difference does it make if I get together with my girlfriend?

I couldn’t drive to Romi’s house, for a couple reasons.  First off: if my parents came home early, they’d see that my car was gone.  Then I’d be in trouble.  Oops, I mean they’d be “very disappointed” with my behaviour.  They’re not the kind of parents who get mad.  They’re the kind of parents who get disappointed.

Romi’s are the kind of parents who neglect their offspring so bad Child and Family Services removes the kids from their custody, so I guess I shouldn’t complain.  I still do, but I shouldn’t.  I know.

It’s too bad Romi won’t come to my house.  She thinks my parents judge her.  She’s right, but at least my place is warm and I have a nice soft bed to fuck on.  So what if my parents judge her?  They’re not even home.  Besides, the last time I parked near Romi’s place, poor old Lex got her tires slashed.  That’s when my dad told me not to hang out with “that Rhonda girl” anymore.

I said no way, and her name isn’t Rhonda.

He offered to buy Lex new shoes if I complied.

I still said no.

He paid for the tires anyway.

I knew he would. He loves his little girl.

And he doesn’t mind me, either. 

Haha. That was a joke.

Anyway, getting from my place to Romi’s is faster by subway.  Today was weird, though.  The subway station is only around the block, but the whole time I was walking there, I only saw a few cars on the road.  That would be pretty normal on my street, but on the main road?  Really strange.  There’s always more traffic than that.

There weren’t too many people on the subway either, come to think of it. 

Bizarre.

But I wasn’t paying much attention, at the time, because my blood was pumping hard.

I was about to see Romi.

When I got to the house, I had to wait forever for Ben to open the door.  I wish they’d just give me a key, but whatever.  Their house, their call. 

I told Ben my idea about naming their house Queer Mountain, but he said Mount Queer sounded better.  Mercury came walking by just then, and she said Mount Q sounded best.  We all agreed that had a nice ring to it.  Ben works at a sign shop, and I told him he should have like a banner printed up, but he just went “humph” and turned away.

As I headed up to Romi’s room, Mercury told me she wasn’t there.  She’d come home and gone back out again. I asked where, but nobody seemed to know.  They don't keep tabs on each other, unless it’s important.

The front door opened and shut, and I heard Ben tell Romi I was upstairs.  I couldn’t hear what she said to him.  Maybe nothing.

As soon as I heard her footsteps on the stairs, I dropped my bag on the floor.  I thought I’d be able to strip before she made it to her room, but it didn’t take long to get to the third floor.  When she opened the door, my jacket had just dropped behind me.

I don’t know why I expected her to be surprised.  She knew I was coming over.  And Ben told her I was up here.  So why would I expect to see surprise on her face?

Maybe it wasn’t surprise I was hoping for.  Maybe it was something else.  Like joy or something. 

Sometimes, when I walked into the room, Romi would be stretched out on her floor mattress, reading from a used textbook and taking notes on my old laptop (I told Daddy Dearest I lost it so he’d buy me a new one). She would look at me and a smile like diamonds would break across her lips. I’d feel like the hottest little mutha in this whole damn city.

Romi ain’t so bad herself. 

She’s got purple hair at the moment, though the top of her head is always hidden under this hat she’s decided she loves.  Her hair still has bits of blue at the ends, from the last dye job. Mercury did the honours, because she really wants to be a stylist.  I don’t know why she doesn’t just go to school for it.  She has a job.  Actually, I think she has two. 

Can’t cost that much to go to barber college or whatever.

Anyway, not my life. None of my business.

Even though Romi didn’t look her best when she walked in the room, I still launched myself at her.  Didn’t even give her a chance to drop her bag. 

When I kissed her, she pushed back like, “Jules, fuck, gimme five seconds to take off my coat.”

“I can take it off for you,” I said.  “I can strip you with my teeth.  Whatever you want.”

She told me the libraries are all closed now.  She had to go to the sandwich shop where one of her roommates works to use the Wi-Fi there.  Romi et al don’t have it at the house, which I find ridiculous, with the number of people who live there.  Maybe you need a landline to route the modem through? But they don’t have that either.  With five people total, you’d think they could split the cost.

Anyway, I didn’t care about the stupid library and it bugged me that she kept talking about that bummer bullshit.  I was like, “Dude, you’re killing my horny.  If you want to use your mouth for something, would you please just put it on my pussy?”

For a second, she looked like she was gonna blow.  Then she shook her head and smirked and said, “You’re lucky you’re rich.”

“And hot,” I added.  “Don’t forget about the hot.”

“How could I forget about the hot?”  She looked me up and down before lifting the strap of her bag over her shoulder and setting it gingerly on the floor.  I don’t know how she managed to take off her bag without knocking her hat off her head, but mission accomplished. 

She took off her coat and dropped it on her bag.  She had on high-tops and leggings and a grey knit sweater that went almost down to her knees.  It was so baggy she looked like she had no tits.  I knew better, of course.  I peeled off that sweater to get to them. 

She didn't seem to mind.

Under the sweater, she had on a really tight t-shirt, which is why her tits had gone MIA.  I tugged that off, too.  My mouth watered the second I laid eyes on her pale breasts and pink nipples.  Hard to choose between kissing her lips and sucking her tits.  I could do both, just not at the same time. 

I decided to kiss her, because that’s what I’d been fantasizing about the whole subway trip over.  All the sex stuff we do is great, but kissing is really spectacular. 

Does that sound super-vanilla? 

I don’t know. 

I just know that kissing Romi gets me wet in an instant.  Actually, it’s not just the act of kissing that does it for me.  Even the thought of kissing Romi gets me wet.

My panties were a pool on the subway. 

I always wonder if randos take one look at me and know I’ve got a river of hot pussy juice flowing between my legs.  Can people tell when I’m thinking about sex?  I hope not, because I think about sex pretty much every waking hour. 

When I’m asleep, I dream about sex. 

Sometimes I orgasm myself awake.  No joke.  I’ll wake up and be cumming up a storm. Half the time I can’t even remember why.

I ran my hands up Romi’s sides as I kissed her.  She shivered in my arms. 

There’s great satisfaction in making a hot girl shiver.

She kissed me harder, breathing through my lungs. Wouldn’t let me up for air.

One of Romi’s hands snaked around my back while the other went under my top.  She deftly unhooked my bra before sliding her cold hand across my warm, naked skin. 

She cupped my breast. 

First, a gentle squeeze. 

Then, a rough one. 

She pinched my tits and I pinched hers.  The difference is that my nipples get hard and hers remain satiny soft and cotton-ball plush.  She has the sweetest nipples I’ve ever seen, and the only nipples I’ve ever tasted. 

I’ve never been with anyone but Romi.

But I’ve been with her lots.

She rode my thigh as we touched and kissed, so I did the same to her.  Skinny jeans are my friend.  The thick seam did the trick.  Wasn’t hard to stroke off on it.  All I had to do was rock my crotch on Romi’s leg.  Seemed like she had to work harder because she didn’t have that nubby fold of denim to get off against.

I tore off my top and let my undone bra fall to the floor.  Sucked to break a kiss, but felt amazing to revive it.  Romi’s bedroom is always cold—the whole house is—so my nipples hardened even more than before.  I clung tighter to Romi, trying to steal the warmth from her skin.  In the process, I pressed my big breasts against her smaller ones.

This was heaven, to me.  I mean, I don’t believe in heaven.  So feeling Romi’s soft tits against mine is literally what I believe heaven is.  Not a place on a cloud.  Just a girl in my arms.  Kissing.  Touching.  Our breasts pushing into each other.  Our clits throbbing hard as we rub off on the other one’s thighs.

This time, when we kissed, our nipples kissed too.  Hard on soft. 

I kissed Romi’s neck and she wheezed.  Not a gasp, even.  A sound like a final breath before death. 

She would die for this, I bet. 

I sure would.

In perfect synchronicity, we skittered toward the bed.  I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t need to.  I knew my way around my girlfriend’s bedroom, even in the dark.  And, with the shades pulled, it was actually pretty dark in there, despite being midday.

When the back of my ankle met the floor mattress, I dropped myself down.  Romi landed on top of me without untangling her legs from mine.  Once she was there, she pressed her pussy even harder against my thigh.  We had to go one at a time, now.  I couldn’t get my clit in the perfect position anymore.  But I guess she noticed, or maybe she just wanted to take care of me, because she slipped her hand inside my tight jeans and jammed her fingers between denim and lycra.

She rode my leg in long, elegant motions, the way a rower strokes as they stride through a glassy waterway. I liked the idea of being water for her.  Of being wet. Eternally wet.

Even though her movements were fairly calm and well-regulated, Romi rubbed my clit frantically.  She knows I like it hot and hard.  She knows I like it rough. 

Her tongue jabbed around inside my mouth, battling my tongue as I moaned and bucked my hips.  What she was doing felt so good that I grabbed my own thong and tugged it up in the front.  I pulled at it until the stretchy gusset folded itself between my shaved lips to envelope my swollen clit. 

Now that I could feel Romi’s hand against my naked flesh, I went a bit crazy.  I drove my fingers through her hair, causing her hat to fall off.  That obviously bothered her, because I felt her flinch, but I just wrapped my fist around her purple-blue locks and twisted until her hat was the last thing on her mind.

She shrieked inside my mouth and slowed her hips all the way down.  For a moment, she didn’t move.  Not on top of me.  We were still kissing and she was still walloping my pussy the best she could with my pants so tight around her hand, but she was no longer riding my thigh.

I think she came.  I didn’t ask, because I didn’t want her to stop what she was doing, but I think she was having one of her dead-silent orgasms. 

Her mouth moved away from mine.  Her lips glided across my cheek.  She kissed behind my ear, down my neck, across my chest.

I unzipped my fly and undid the button.  That didn’t make much of a difference.  What did make a difference was yanking my thong out of the way so Romi could reach my clit unobstructed. 

When her fingers glided against my slick pussy lips, I thought I was going to lose my mind.

When her mouth anchored on my tit, I really did lose it.

Four flat fingers moved faster between my legs.

I can’t believe how good it felt when she touched me there.  Like that.  Skin on skin.

She rubbed me harder, faster, while her lips locked on my nipple. 

I twisted my fist in her hair and she shrieked.

“Don’t stop sucking me,” I begged, pressing her face against my breast.

She went back at it, sucking my tits—back and forth between the two—while she pounded my pussy.  I twisted and writhed beneath her, but she kept up.  She held fast.  Her mouth latched on to me and wouldn’t let go, even when I whipped around and arched up and slammed down.

No matter what I did, she didn’t stop.

She didn’t stop until I told her to. 

Even then, I was undecided.  My pussy was done, but I wanted her to keep sucking my tits. 

I told her to, and she did.

When I finally unravelled my hand from her hair, I realized it was super-greasy, which I guess is why she’d kept her hat on before.  Usually, she showers at the recreation centre, because the hot water heater at Mount Q barely works and the landlord can’t be bothered fixing it.  So by the time the femmes are finished, the shower’s cold as the crypt. But apparently all the recreation centres are closed because of the virus?  I don’t know.  Whatever.  My gym’s still open.