With these orgasms, we cement our pairing. We indulge in sex at my house, at your house; blushing by e-mail; giggling by phone.
We start laughingly calling ourselves the old fuddy-duddies. After all, we are women of a certain age; we enjoy gardening and bird watching, sewing and reading, walking and writing. You read all the relationship and lesbian sex books that you can find at the library and in bookstores. You share your findings, often in the most exquisite of pleasing moments. We both read for work and still take such great pleasure in reading at home, lounging at either end of the couch, you with one leg extended just enough to touch my toes. The cats battle for lap space.
It’s great fun to realize we will do things together that we do not wish to do alone. Day trips to watch eagles and see tulip fields in bloom, long weekends to sweet spots in Canada, holidays at the ocean, days off spent at home as if they were holidays. All seems better when the sights can be shared.
There is an assumption at hand—we have all the time we need, all the time we want to perfect the state of being a couple.
You touch me deeply with your hands, mouth, smile, eyes. You work your way into my heart, a place you will always be. One look and anything is possible. Nothing is out of bounds. Experiments abound.
My hands mold themselves to your body, those sinuous curves, those dense muscles. I thirst for your mouth, your ears, the curve of your breasts, your elbows, as I take my agonizingly sweet slow time to reach your pussy, to reach in for your clit, to reach in and pull out all of your moans, sighs, sobs, screams.
We talk of the days when sitting at work will be a reminder of a long time rubbing on my inner lips; when riding a bike will be all about sex memory; when my hand brushing near my mouth will bring with it your tastes and smells that send me into a throbbing reverie.
I am crazy for you, crazed by your look, your touch. I want you more each time. Your lips grazing my ear. Your mouth on mine. Your fingers tracing from my mouth to my breasts. Your hands grasping my breasts. Your teeth nibbling, biting my nipples. Your eyes casting downward, and you following. To find my toes, ankles, bicycle-strong calves and thighs, moving ever higher and ever inward to the one place where you must reach right now. The dark, damp, dripping core of my being. The fire that cannot be extinguished, only banked until your return.
I find myself dozing, not knowing what is the dream and what is the waking. No matter. I am filled with desire. I want you. I look over and wonder—
Are you awake?
I pull back the covers and stare. My fingers glide over your back, just enough to make you stretch and fall back into a light sleep. My hands follow the curve of your hips, reach toward your knees, and you roll over, opening all your possibility to me.
No turning away now. I glide my lips around your breast, my tongue electrifies your nipple, and as I graze it with my teeth, I hear you moan.
Are you awake?
I take both your hands and stretch your arms above your head. You open to me further and I kiss and caress and chant to the pulse points in your temples, at your throat, then follow the fall of your neck to your shoulders, to your collarbone. And you arch, strain to put your nipples in my path. When I bite one, you gasp.
I think you’re awake.
Still, your eyes are closed. Your legs fall open. I slip my body between them, and again you moan as I lick your palm, tongue the spaces between your fingers, nuzzle the inside of your elbow, kiss your shoulder, and find your nipples and suck.
You groan, stretch farther. With my hands on your breasts, fingers twisting and pinching, I find your belly ring and tug with my teeth, caress your belly button with my tongue. You bend your knees and bring your feet close and lift. I cup your sweet ass in my palms and you lift again with anticipation.
Surely you’re awake.
I sit back on my heels and take your toes into my mouth and suck all sorts of sounds from you. I rub your foot and slide up your calf to the back of your knee, just touching the ends of the hairs that stand and quiver. You start talking to me as my mouth moves up your inner thigh: yesyesyesyesyes…
I push your legs farther apart and admire you. I tell you the gorgeous truth about your pussy and what I will do with it and how I will stamp it as mine. You are already moaning when I reach with my fingers—reach for your core. Ohohohohohohohoh…you give voice to this dance, louder and higher…pleasepleasepleasepleasetouchmetouchmetouchmeplease.
I twist my fingers and I find your clit with my tongue and I know your eyes are wide open. You shake and twist and babble. I lick and suck you, and you start to growl. I reach and pinch your nipple, and you scream and buck and I’m right there, and you might fly away but I hold you with my hands and my mouth until you are all shudder and whimper.
And I move up to kiss you hard and long.
Because you are awake.
Laid
Kathryn Wolf
The conversation had started with…
“For God’s sake, Sarah. Will you stop bitching about everything and just go? Do us all a favor; go get yourself laid while you’re away. Please.”
Five years ago she’d gone back home to take over the running of the family business, and she’d worked solidly until it all started to pile up on her. Her friends were right; she did need to get laid. Badly. The insane weekend she had spent in bed with a Swedish tourist she’d met in a pub seemed now exactly what it was…a very long two years ago.
Now she was holding up the bar at another pub she had not been to in years, and she didn’t recognize a soul. None of her old friends were on the scene anymore; everyone had paired up and settled down. In the last week she’d been chatted up twice, but no one caught her fancy; the spark just wasn’t there, mostly due to the fact they were baby dykes doing the chatting. However, it did stroke her thirty-six-year-old ego nicely. Tonight, hardly anyone in her immediate vicinity even looked old enough to drink, let alone be out and proud. One of the bleached blondes bopping around behind the bar scooted over to her as she finished her beer and signaled for another. The girl had “Bar Bitch” emblazoned across her breasts and an almost blinding amount of bright steel facial jewelry.
Sarah resigned herself to the fact that now, on her last night before she pulled up stakes and left for home, she was not going to be able to fulfill her promise to her friends. That was, until she looked up from her glass and straight into a pair of green eyes above a lazy smile. The light sheen of sweat on the woman’s rich tanned skin suggested she had just come in from the dance floor. The grin broadened slightly when their eyes met and held. The woman picked up her drink and walked around to Sarah’s side of the bar. Sarah sat transfixed as she watched her push through the crowd, stomach twisting sharply when the whole of the woman’s body came into view. Her tight white tank top stopped halfway down tight abs, and she had poured herself into a pair of black leather pants that rode low on her hips. Sarah felt her body heat as her heart rate picked up. A grin matching the one of the woman walking toward her made its way across her face.
Turning the bar stool around, the dark-haired woman eased her way in to stand between Sarah’s knees. Sarah swallowed convulsively as fire shot through her veins and wetness pooled suddenly between her legs.
“I’m Dillon,” the woman said as she leaned in. “Come and dance with me.”
For a second, when the woman’s rich southern American accent rolled over her like a wave, Sarah thought she was going to come on the spot. As Dillon moved to ease her off the seat, she resisted, and Dillon raised an eyebrow in question. Sarah had a sudden burning need to feel soft hot skin not her own. She slid both hands around Dillon’s waist, pulling her in tighter between her legs.
“I’m Sarah,” she said before slipping off the stool and gliding down the front of Dillon’s body. Her move was rewarded by a tight groan from deep in Dillon’s throat as she allowed Sarah to pull her through the crowd toward the nightclub.
*
Dillon could not believe the way her insides jumped the mom
ent her eyes landed on the blonde sitting alone on the other side of the horseshoe-shaped bar. She had been single for the last six months, and since then she’d had the odd fling here and there just to scratch the itch, or out of sheer boredom, but nobody had grabbed her attention like this. When their eyes locked, the twist of desire was so strong, she had almost groaned out loud. The heat spread through her body and focused between her legs as she shifted upright, and then all of a sudden, there she was, standing between the woman’s knees and introducing herself. Her mind switched off as she felt warm hands, one still moist from the beer glass, slide over her skin. She barely registered the woman’s name before she was pulled through the crowd into the central courtyard of the old building toward the nightclub in the back.
Dillon suddenly pulled back on the hand tugging hers and drew a startled Sarah into a shadowed alcove next to a lush potted tree. Her hot mouth descended on Sarah’s, eliciting a deep groan from Sarah as her back connected with the rough brick of the wall. In a very small corner of her mind, Dillon was slightly shocked at her own behavior, and then Sarah lifted a booted foot up onto the edge of a nearby planter, grabbed hold of her hips, and pulled her in tight between her legs. Arousal flooded her body and drowned out all coherent thought as she tore her mouth away and looked into hot blue eyes. Keeping the eye contact, Dillon eased her upper body away from Sarah’s and with slow deliberate movements began to undo her shirt buttons.
Dilated pupils and flushed skin betrayed how much Sarah anticipated the touch of Dillon’s hands against her naked skin. She gasped when instead of sliding inside her shirt, those hands slid down over her hips, lifting her slightly so Dillon could grind against her center. Sarah emitted a soft cry, and her head fell back against the brick as Dillon kissed down her now-exposed throat to the hollow between her breasts.
“Oh God…ah…I thought we…” The rest of Sarah’s sentence was cut short as strong fingers shifted around her body and pressed into her aching sex through her jeans. At the same moment, Dillon bit down gently on a rock-hard nipple through the fabric of her bra, ripping another cry from her throat.
“Have you ever made love in public?” Dillon asked against Sarah’s ear before claiming her lips again in a searing kiss. Nipping and biting, the women struggled to find the perfect fit for their lips, their breathing harsh and ragged.
Dillon suddenly let go of her grip on Sarah’s center and roughly ripped open the button fly of her jeans, plunging her fingers beneath the soaked denim. Working her way lower, she moaned out loud as her fingers invaded hot wet flesh.
*
The moment Dillon slipped two fingers up inside her Sarah was lost; at that point she would not have cared if the woman had stripped off her clothes and gone down on her in the middle of the Rugby World Cup grand final pitch. The pleasure was intense as Dillon started up a slow thrusting rhythm, the palm of her hand flat against Sarah’s swollen clit; she tore her mouth away and focused on hot green eyes.
“More,” Sarah demanded and Dillon growled, thrusting a third finger deep into her. As her slick inner walls began to contract around the questing fingers, Sarah’s head dropped to Dillon’s shoulder, nails scratching into her strong back muscles. Dillon picked up the pace, thrusting her body against Sarah in time with her fingers. Then Sarah was there, her body convulsing, squeezing down hard on Dillon’s fingers as she gave a sharp cry of release.
*
Dillon could not focus, could not grasp any form of coherent thought. All she could feel were Sarah’s slick walls pulsing around her fingers, and her own clit, so hard it was rubbing against her leathers. All she had to do was provide a tiny bit of friction. Sarah stirred as Dillon gently pulled out of her body and ran her hands down Dillon’s back to her hips. When Sarah shoved a muscled thigh firmly against her aching sex, Dillon came hard, her head falling back as Sarah pulled her in tighter, teeth gracing the flesh of her exposed throat.
*
As Dillon came, Sarah suddenly became aware of a sound and was horrified to discover they had drawn an audience, who had begun to applaud. She was even further mortified when she realized the cheering had caught the attention of a rather large bouncer, who currently waited with arms folded and a slight smirk on her face. Sarah swore loudly as she tried to pull away far enough to refasten her clothing. Finally realizing what was going on, Dillon stepped back slightly, giving Sarah room to move but still shielding her body.
“We’re about ten seconds from being thrown out,” Dillon said softly.
“I figured that.” Sarah chuckled ruefully, trying to tamp down her embarrassment.
“It’s still early…” Dillon left the statement hanging.
Sarah searched Dillon’s eyes and felt a kick run through her system again. Damn, I haven’t felt like this in years. The decision made, she pulled Dillon into her body.
“Come with me,” she breathed against her ear.
*
The taxi ride and climb to Sarah’s hotel room was accomplished with complete silence between them. Sarah unlocked the door, switched on the lights, and motioned for Dillon to precede her, giving herself plenty of time to admire the view of the woman’s firm ass and muscled physique.
“Do you want a drink?” she asked, her voice sounding thick.
Dillon turned from where she was looking out over the ocean, giving Sarah a feral smile. “No.”
Sarah turned off the lights when Dillon motioned for her to join her at the window. When she was an arm’s length away, Dillon said, “Take off your clothes.”
It was both a command and a request, and Sarah’s heart rate picked up as she focused on Dillon’s eyes while unbuttoning her white cotton shirt. Her skin flushed as she watched hot green eyes follow the movement of her hands. When Sarah removed her bra to expose her firm, coral-tipped breasts, Dillon’s hands twitched, but she kept them at her sides. Sarah closed her eyes in anticipation as Dillon moved in behind her.
“Walk over to the window,” Dillon breathed into her ear, sending a shiver of arousal sweeping down her spine. “I want to see you in the moonlight when you take off the rest.”
Sarah shakily complied, standing next to the window and lifting her foot up on to the desk chair to remove her heavy lace-up boots. Her body was screaming to feel those strong tanned hands against her hot skin as she pulled open the buttons of her fly and slowly pushed the denim over her hips.
*
Dillon was certain she would have collapsed on the floor as Sarah bent slowly from the waist to push her jeans down over her legs if not for the chair she had dragged under herself at the last minute. As she knew from their earlier encounter, the gorgeous woman was not wearing anything under the jeans, and when she bent over, Dillon was presented with a seductive view of her wet swollen sex.
“Oh God,” she breathed in almost silent benediction.
*
By the time Sarah straightened and let down her loose ponytail, she was almost dizzy with arousal, and she cried out in pleasure as strong arms encircled her waist and pulled her in against a hot hard body. She dropped her head back against Dillon’s shoulder, her breathing suddenly ragged. One strong hand pinched and chafed at a hard nipple, while the other brushed down to slide between her wet folds. Blindly, she reached for some kind of support as her body convulsed in pleasure. Then Dillon gently walked her forward two steps until her searching hands met the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. When Dillon started a slow circling of her swollen clit, Sarah gasped, “Please…Ah… I need you…inside me…”
Anything else she might have said was choked off as Dillon bent her forward and slid two fingers inside her. Sarah reached down, stilling Dillon’s hand, and heard a choked groan of frustration.
“Wait,” Sarah panted through clenched teeth. “I need…something…more.” Gently but forcefully she pulled Dillon’s fingers from inside herself. “In the top drawer of the side table… the wooden box…”
Sarah gasped as cool air reached the hot skin of her sudden
ly exposed back and she held her breath, praying she would not hear the sound of the door.
*
“Well…” Dillon chuckled.
She had not been quite sure what to expect when she pulled the wooden box out of the drawer, but it sure as hell hadn’t been a brand-new strap-on. A fresh flood of moisture flowed between her legs when she realized she could put it on without removing her leathers, and she had an instant vision of taking the blonde hard against the plate glass of the hotel window. When she had the cock adjusted to where she wanted it, she took it in her hand and stroked, drawing a tight groan from her throat as the base of the shaft rode against her swollen clit.
*
Sarah heard a muffled groan, then felt Dillon’s body against her back, this time with the added sensation of hard nipples rubbing over her back and hard silicone pressed against her behind. Sarah gasped and reached back to pull Dillon harder against her body and groaned when she realized Dillon still wore her leather pants.
“Is this what you want?” Dillon rasped against her ear. “Tell me, Sarah. Do you want me to fuck you?” Dillon slipped both hands down the front of Sarah’s hips and slowly leaned over, sliding the silicone shaft between Sarah’s legs, chafing against her heat. “Tell me. I want you to say the words. Tell me what you want me to do.”
She punctuated her words with a steady thrusting motion, a gentle teasing against Sarah’s swollen folds.
“Oh God…please…I want you inside me,” Sarah gasped.
*
Dillon growled low in her throat as she slowly guided the shaft into Sarah’s waiting heat. She watched as the shaft disappeared into Sarah’s hot flesh, gritting her teeth with the effort to control her movements, wanting nothing more than to thrust hard and fast into the body beneath her. Finally buried to the hilt she stopped, relishing the sensation of the shaft grinding against her clit as Sarah’s body spasmed around it. Leaning forward to run the tip of her tongue up along Sarah’s spine, she reached down and softly traced an invisible pattern up the inside of the blonde’s thighs. Sarah cried out again as Dillon’s fingers parted her swollen folds and found her clit while she started a slow thrusting rhythm with the silicone shaft.
Stolen Moments Page 25
