Blue Collar Lesbian Erotica

by Karin Kallmaker

  "Why not?" Amber got up and walked over to the pole. There was a red trap door around the base of it and a hole just big enough that she could see the outline of two fire trucks below. "It's not that high up."

  "It's not the height." Bailey rubbed one hand along the surface of the pole, her skin making a squeaky noise. "You'll get burned if you're not wearing clothes. It's like a rug burn."

  Amber reached for the pole with her right hand, wrapping her fingers tightly around it. Then she wrapped her legs around and slid upward a few inches. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation against her groin.

  "Oh, there's no burn. Not if you're moist enough."

  "Amber, you--"

  Amber was sliding up and down the pole just enough to get a little friction going as her skin stayed in contact with the metal. "Oh, this is--you have to--Oh God!"

  This time Bailey could not quiet the woman as she increased her motions and brought herself to climax.

  "Yes! Yes!" Amber threw her head back and let go of the pole just enough to slide closer to the trap door.

  Bailey reached out for her but was not in time to stop her as the door opened and Amber slid through.

  The woman was still in her climax as she reached the floor.

  Bailey quickly put her clothes on, grabbed Amber's clothes and started down the pole. But Amber was still wrapped tightly around it. Not wanting to end up on top of her...at least not like that...Bailey ran down the stairs. She reached Amber just as the bay lights came on and the alert tones sounded for a fire call.

  "Shit!"

  "What's that?"

  "A fire call!"

  "Cool!"

  "Not cool!" Bailey pulled Amber to her feet and hurried her into a storage closet, pulling the doors shut. "Get dressed!"

  "Okay, okay," Amber grumbled, slipping on her pants and shirt and trying to get Bailey to open the doors so she could see the other firefighters moving around.

  Bailey peaked out, watching as two men moved past their hiding place and toward the engine closest to the brass pole. He stopped at the base of the pole and Bailey felt her heart leap into her chest. "Shit," she mumbled.

  The man was staring at the pole, looking up to the trap door, then down to the base, his eyebrows arched in confusion. "Yo, Dave. I though you polished this thing."

  Dave, who was tossing his gear onto the truck turned to stare at him. "I did. About an hour before we went to bed."

  "You did a lousy job. There's Brasso all over the thing."

  "What?" Dave shook his head. "No way."

  "Way." The other firefighter opened the door to the driver's side of the engine and climbed in. "There's white stuff all over it."

  Bailey couldn't hear Dave's comment over the roar of the fire engine's motors, but she could only imagine what they would say if they knew what the "white stuff" was. The thought made her giggle.

  Amber pressed closer to Bailey and whispered in her ear. "When can I come slide down the pole again?"

  Bailey laughed out loud. "Any time you want, babe. Any time you want."

  Redneck Lesbos

  by Pat Cronin

  A GREASY HAND appeared from under the Chevy Dualie pick up truck, the fingers making grabbing motions. "Hey babe! Hand me a beer, will ya?"

  "Why? Your legs broke?" Sissy asked as she placed the beer into the greasy hand. "You done yet?"

  "Nope." Rai twisted the top off the bottle and took a swig. "Ahh, much better."

  "You know we're supposed to be at Slug's at four."

  "Slug can wait. It ain't like we're that far away." Rai set the beer on the pavement, swiped her arm across her forehead to get rid of the sweat and went back to work getting the new oil filter in place. "Besides, we've got all the wood. He can't even start the fire until we get there."

  "And he'll be bitchin' about how late we are."

  "Sissy, honey, all you have to do to get him to shut up is give him a beer."

  Sissy laughed and glanced at the open cooler. "There won't be any left if you don't stop drinking them and get the damn oil changed."

  Rai rolled her eyes.

  "And stop rolling your eyes at me."

  Rai stopped what she was doing and looked in Sissy's direction. "You got x-ray vision now?"

  "No."

  Rai held up her middle finger.

  "You know the answer is no. I'll be too tired after the party tonight and we'll be in a tent in your brother's back yard. No way we're doing the 'wild thing' with his kids and half your family running around."

  Rai glanced at her finger, then shook her head. "How the hell do you do that?"

  "Because you're so damn predictable." Sissy squatted near the front tire of the truck, leaning forward enough to see under the vehicle. "But I may reconsider if you hurry."

  Rai tightened the filter one last time with her hand and smiled. "Wanna join me under here or in the shower?" she asked, waggling her light brown eyebrows.

  "Neither. If I get under there I'll get dirty. If I join you in the shower, we'll never make it to Slug's."

  "And that's a bad thing because..."

  "Rai!"

  "All right!" Rai was laughing as she scooted out from under the truck. "Can I at least get a kiss?"

  "Fine." She lifted her head to kiss Rai, but backed up when greasy hands came at her. "Go!"

  RAI STEPPED OUT of the shower and put the towel around her body. She headed into the front room and found Sissy on the couch with her head back and her eyes closed. Rai stood over her and shook her wet hair, laughing when Sissy's eyes opened wide.

  "Bitch!" Sissy rolled away from Rai, wiping the water from her face as she did.

  "That's Ms. Bitch to you." Rai plopped onto the couch beside her.

  "At least you're clean now. Go get dressed so we can get going."

  Rai tossed the towel on the floor and got onto her knees beside Sissy. "Sure you want me to do that?"

  Sissy's eyes narrowed slightly, but the admonishing look only lasted a few seconds. "I really hate when you do this."

  "Do what?"

  "This." Sissy pointed to Rai. "Get all showered and clean...then get all naked in front of me when we should be leaving."

  "You don't want me naked? Or you don't want me clean?" Rai crawled close enough to Sissy that her bare breasts rubbed against Sissy's arm.

  Sissy licked her lips. "Well," she took hold of Rai's hand and rubbed the calloused fingers. "Actually, I don't think I've ever known you not to have grease stains on your hands." She kissed Rai's fingers. "It's hot."

  "Yeah?" Rai positioned herself so she was straddling Sissy's lap. "How hot?"

  "Too much yapping," Sissy claimed Rai's mouth with hers, pulling her onto the couch so that Sissy was now on top.

  "Oh, this I like."

  Sissy removed her shirt and tossed it aside and pressed her bare breasts against Rai's. "Mmm. Me too."

  Rai reached for Sissy's pants, but got her hands slapped. "What?"

  "You get to wait for that." Sissy clamped her mouth down on Rai's breast, her tongue flicking across the taut nipple.

  "Oh, baby. Nice."

  Sissy's hand played with the other nipple like she was playing an instrument, pulling and flicking it, making Rai squirm beneath her.

  "You are such a tease," Rai dug her fingers into Sissy's short hair, holding her head while she continued to suckle her breast. It was making her body tingle, creating an ache between her legs that was driving Rai mad. She thrust her hips up, only to have Sissy press them back down.

  "Down girl," she said, moving her mouth to Rai's. They kissed frantically, Rai shoving her tongue into Sissy mouth, groaning when Sissy sucked it.

  Rai held Sissy's head with both hands, needing her kisses, wanting her touch.

  Sissy pulled back from Rai to catch her breath. Their eyes locked and no more words were needed. Sissy's hands moved down Rai's body and Rai leaned her head back, sucking in air as she anticipated her partner's next move.

  Rai felt the soft t
ouch against her inner thighs and shivered. She was already wet and way past ready. She closed her eyes when fingers moved through the curls of hair between her legs.

  "Wet. Nice." Sissy's fingers parted the hair, lightly moving between Rai's lips. They slid in easily, finding the hard nub immediately.

  It was almost too much. Rai's hips bucked, pushing into Sissy's hand. "Please baby. Right there."

  "I know." Sissy took the nub between her fingers and played with it, pressing it, twisting it, driving Rai crazy by bringing her close, but not close enough.

  "Oh God! Oh, that's--that's it!" Rai's fists opened and closed, her hips now thrusting upward as Sissy's grip on her tightened. Rai threw her head back and moaned. "Please. I--I need you inside. Baby..."

  Rai felt Sissy release her, sliding her fingers further down. They were just along the rim. Sissy's fingers teasingly went inside Rai, then came out again in a slow, deliberate motion.

  Rai looked at Sissy to find her smiling back at her. "Baby..."

  "It'll be so good, sweetie." Sissy's fingers continued to play at Rai's opening as Sissy placed her mouth over Rai's clit.

  The touch was soft and pleasing against Rai's sensitive skin. Sissy's tongue licked the sides of the clit while her fingers slid in and out.

  Sissy's finger moved in tandem with Rai's hips, slowly at first, then speeding up as Rai got closer and closer.

  Sissy's mouth suddenly took in Rai's flesh and suckled it hard while her fingers moved faster.

  "Oh baby! Yes! So very close...harder. Harder!"

  Rai's hips shoved harder, trying to drive Sissy's fingers deeper inside.

  "I'm coming!" Rai screamed and her body began to shake and spasm. Her toes curled and her hips rose up. She tightened around Sissy's fingers and held her there.

  Rai was lost in the moment until she felt Sissy kissing her mouth. She could taste herself and it made her shiver again. The wonderful throbbing between her legs seemed to go on forever, even after Sissy removed her fingers.

  Rai let out a deep breath and looked up into Sissy's face. Her lover was comfortably lying on top of her, a very pleased expression on her face.

  "Wow."

  "Yeah, wow." Sissy said. "You're gonna need another shower."

  "Hmm. Wanna join me?"

  Sissy laughed. "You're insatiable!"

  "Yeah. And I'm horny." Rai kissed her.

  "We still have to go to Slug's."

  "He can wait. He only wants us to come because we always bring the beer."

  "So, you wanna stay home?"

  Rai lifted an eyebrow at the question. "Are you kidding? We could have a shower, play some more and be done in time for Wrestling at 7."

  Sissy said, "So we're not going to your brother's house?"

  "Hell no." Rai pulled her close for another kiss. "Slug can get his own damn beer."

  The Relief Pitcher

  by Nann Dunne

  I'M VERY ATTRACTED to big, good-looking women. And Greta Shuler, pitcher for the Sundowners Bar slow-pitch team, is really big and really good-looking. Her teammates call her Mack, as in truck, but in my mind, heart, and soul, I call her the Goddess.

  I'm in a new job, in a new town, on a new team. Joining a bar team can be a fast way to get acquainted, especially to women who are inordinately fond of other women, as I am. Is the Goddess one of us? I don't know that yet, but I sure as hell am going to find out. I'm basically shy by nature, so that might take me awhile, but it will happen.

  Ever since I got to town, I'd been scouting for a team to join, and Monday evening I watched the Sundowners play. "Who's that pitcher?" I asked a bystander.

  "That's Mack Shuler."

  "She looks pretty good," I said.

  "She's probably the best in the league."

  But I hadn't been talking strictly about her skill as a pitcher. She looked pretty good, period. Nearly six-foot tall, broad and muscular, she had tight white-blonde curls cropped too short to move when she pitched. But other parts made up for that lack of movement. Whew. Her breasts were sized perfectly for her body and no bra on this earth could keep them quiet when she lobbed the ball. The batters getting hits must be hets.

  Thick through the trunk and chest, she had thighs as big as a slim teenager's waist, and it was all muscle. With a little more fat on her body, she could have sat for a Rubens painting. But to me, she was perfect just as she was. On first sight, my mind dubbed her the Goddess. She could rule over me anytime she wanted to.

  I spotted a tough-bodied woman who appeared to be the manager, and I caught up to her between innings. "Hi. My name's Syl Bentner. I'm new in town, but I've been playing softball forever. You interested in a pitcher-outfielder?"

  She gave me a casual glance. "Everyone calls me Murph." She turned back to the game. "Come to practice Wednesday night. I'll check you out."

  So, it's Wednesday, and here I am, waiting on the bench for Murph's summons. The Goddess is at the mound, warming up. And while I watch her, my mound is warming up too. She takes a slow, measured step toward the plate, then as she hurls the ball up into its arc, she brings her other foot forward until she's in a square stance. Like a tiger, she rises to the balls of her feet, ready to pounce on anything that might be hit toward her. Her breasts are still bobbing, and I go into fantasyland, imagining myself being pounced upon, with those breasts slapping my cheeks.

  Murph goes to the mound and says something to the Goddess, then they both walk my way. I stand up, wipe my hands on the sides of my baggy shorts, and command my suddenly weak knees to stay locked.

  Murph speaks. "Mack, this is--" She stops. Obviously, she's forgotten my name. Now I'm hunting for a tongue that's in danger of being swallowed.

  "Bentner. Syl Bentner." I stick out my hand, and it gets engulfed by the Goddess's. Her handshake is firm, but not bone-crunching. With one look at my fawning face, she has to know she can bring me to my knees anytime she chooses to. With or without a handshake.

  Up close, she's even more impressive. Full, black brows curve above deep-set, deep blue, deeply probing eyes. Her slightly arched nose sits above wide, firm lips and a square, no-nonsense jaw.

  "Greta Shuler. But call me Mack," she says in a low, yet intense voice whose rumbling timbre makes up for any lack of volume. I suddenly realize I still have hold of her hand, and I drop it awkwardly. Amusement flickers through those gorgeous eyes, and I wonder what kind of impression I'm making.

  I'm average in size, shape, and weight. My only claims to fame--as imparted by some past bed mates--are my chestnut brown hair that lightly sweeps my shoulders and my hazel eyes that change color according to what I wear. And I have a "charming," though narrow-mouthed, smile. I flash it at the Goddess, hoping that the charm part is working, but it's impossible to tell. Murph's voice--I had forgotten she was there--breaks my concentration.

  "Mack pitches most games. Our second pitcher doubles as an outfielder. But you never know when you might need a relief pitcher to take over a game, so you can't ever have too many."

  She hands me the softball she received from the Goddess during their little chat at the mound. "Go do a few warm-up tosses, then we'll take a look at your skills."

  I was warmed up as soon as the Goddess touched me, but I follow Murph's plan.

  To make a long story short, I get to join the team. I'm a pretty good pitcher if I do have to say so myself, good enough to be a starter on some teams, but I'm satisfied to pitch in relief for this one. I don't come anywhere near the Goddess in ability. In that one game I watched, she cut down batters like a machete in a sugarcane field. Wow. Gorgeous and powerful. The woman of my dreams. But what if she's not... Don't even go there, Bentner! Think positive! My body sure is thinking positive. It's positively drooling, in all the right places.

  I don't get a chance to talk with the Goddess again, though I want to. When she's almost finished pitching to some of the batters toward the end of practice, a helpful, but plan-destroying player takes me across the field to an old YMCA building. Se
ems the County owns it now and uses it for meetings and different affairs. Some generous benefactor has even installed automatic lighting to save on electricity. But most important to the sports teams, they're allowed to use the shower and locker rooms. My new teammate shows me the facilities. The tiled shower area, next to the locker room, is a strip of eight open showers with no privacy panels. It serves the welcome purpose of a place to get cleaned up without having to go home first. She gives me a key to the building and one to a locker after I sign in blood that I won't abuse either one.

  Since I live a good distance away, I'd brought clean clothes with me. I hoped to find a service station that was enough of a dinosaur to still have public restrooms. I could wash up in one and change my clothes before scoping out cruising spots. In a pinch, a fast food restroom would do. Anyway, the teammate returns to the field, and I get the clean clothes from my car and put them in my new locker.

  From the building's doorway, I can see part of the field. The sun is going down, practice is breaking up, and some players are already heading here. Some apparently have other plans and aren't coming this way. I'm terribly disappointed that I don't see the Goddess.

  I hadn't had sex with another woman for so long, I've been half afraid my juices would dry up, but every contact--by eye or hand--with the Goddess has dispelled that worry. Lack of lubrication is not a problem. In fact, I'm so horny right now, I'm afraid to be with naked women in a shower--I might get arrested for eye-trespassing. Or drooling without a license. So I wander into a nearly empty room and decide to wait out the other bathers.

  I wait about half an hour for the laughter and chatter to die away as the place empties, but the time is not wasted. An old exercise bike had been stashed in one corner of the room. I step aboard it to offset some of the aches that result from a first workout after a long layoff. Softball workout, that is, I amend with a wry grin. That thought leads to another.

  This old bike has handlebars with removable rubber grips. Am I horny enough to use one of them? After all, they are washable. Hmmm. I grin when my mind paraphrases an old song: If you can't be with the dildo you love, then love the dildo you're with. I wait about ten minutes after the last bather leaves, then I pull off one of the handlegrips--still bright gold, in spite of age--and trot into the locker room. I undress and pile my dirty clothes on a bench. Then I take one of my towels from the locker and leave the clean clothes still inside. Alone in the building, I have the freedom to walk around nude, which I do.