Lesbians Love Licking: 10 Story Lesbian Erotic Collection W/ BONUS! (Lesbian Erotic Romance)

by Nicolette Dane

  “There you go,” said Lillian as Claire’s lips met her moistness. Claire released her tongue from her mouth and gave a long, slow lick upwards on Lillian’s slit. Adjusting herself as she sat between Lillian’s legs at the end of the bench, Claire got up on to her knees now. Her hands rested on Lillian’s thighs and started to massage them back and forth while her lips pushed against Lillian’s clit, beginning to suckle and slurp at her celebrity trainer’s fleshy little nub.

  Claire could feel her heart beating fast. All of this was so intense to her, an emotional workout in itself. But nothing beyond this mattered to her. She could only think now of the accomplishment of pleasuring Lillian. Of making her happy and proud. Claire closed her eyes as she drank from Lillian, her lips becoming just as moist as Lillian’s. She could feel the wetness of Lillian’s pussy on her chin.

  “Very good, babe,” said Lillian with a moan. “That’s it.”

  Reaching down between her own legs, Claire started to fondle herself overtop her compression shorts. Before long her moisture seeped through the shorts and could be felt on her fingertips. While massaging herself, she continued slurping against Lillian’s pussy. Moving her free hand from Lillian’s thigh, she started to prod against Lillian’s pussy lips, tracing her fingertips through the slit and feeling Lillian’s softness inside.

  “Push them in,” advised Lillian, her hands now coming to her chest and rubbing her breasts through her tank top. Her hips rose up slightly and then lowered, pushing herself up with her toes.

  Claire took Lillian’s command and slowly pushed her fingers into her trainer’s dilated hole. Her fingers slid in easily and were soon coated in Lillian’s juices. Claire thrust into Lillian now, penetrating the fitness celebrity’s pussy and easing her fingers in and out.

  Tired of the fabric of her shorts getting in the way, Claire pushed her hand down into her shorts and fondled her own pussy flesh-on-flesh, masturbating her own clit as she suckled on Lillian’s. It all felt so good, so passionate. Claire leaned her face against Lillian’s inner thigh to support herself as she continued licking and penetrating her trainer. Her damp and sweaty face stuck to Lillian’s thigh, the humidity coming from both of them increasing the heat that Claire felt.

  Only months ago being trained by Lillian was some wild dream for Claire. And now here she was going down on the fitness guru. In the previous season of the show, Claire remembered gazing on Lillian through the TV, wondering what it would be like to work with her, to train with her, and even then the sexual feelings bubbled their way up. Now Claire was tasting Lillian’s juices, fingering her pussy, sucking on her clit. Lillian’s small muscular body laid there for Claire to pleasure and from the look on her face, Lillian was certainly enjoying it.

  “Right there,” said Lillian squirming her hips. “Keep it up.”

  Upon hearing Lillian’s coaching, Claire grew more confident and more lusty, manipulating her own clit with increased fervor now and slurping against Lillian’s clit with greater suction, her tongue flicking against it between breaths. Removing her fingers from Lillian’s pussy, Claire brought them up to Lillian’s clit and softly squeezed her labia around the clit. This caused Lillian to buck her hips up once more, then drop her ass back down onto the weight bench with a slap.

  “Fuck,” said Lillian, her bottom half writhing on the sticky pleather of the bench seat. Claire could feel Lillian’s pussy clenching and releasing, contractions indicating that Lillian was very close to coming. This sent a reverberating sensation throughout Claire’s body and as she fingered her own clit she could feel herself approaching climax as well.

  Lillian then quickly grabbed the braces at the top of the weight bench again to steady herself, her hips and legs twisting and wriggling against Claire. Her strong legs pulled in and grasped Claire’s head now, holding Claire’s face against her dripping pussy. Claire was starting to come but she wanted so badly to usher Lillian through orgasm. She glugged from Lillian’s womanhood, her face covered in sticky sweat and fluids, and she slurped as best as she knew how until suddenly Lillian’s backside jolted upwards off the bench.

  Claire could feel the pulses coming from Lillian’s throbbing pussy against her face, the creamy viscous juices emanating from Lillian’s insides and smearing on Claire’s face. Lillian was moaning and calling out in loud gasps, shouting expletives as she thrashed.

  “Oh God,” exclaimed Lillian, sitting up quickly, reaching for Claire’s head and running a hand through her hair. Lillian’s face was flush and her chest was heaving, gasping for air.

  Claire looked up from her pleasuring and met with Lillian’s eyes. The two women smiled at each other. With her hand, Claire wiped some of the moisture from her face and chin.

  “You did it, girl,” said Lillian, still fondling Claire’s hair with one hand and placing the other on her own chest to feel her heart rate.

  Claire felt the pressure release between her legs and she closed her eyes tightly, a soft groan coming from between her lips. She put her hand to her pussy over the stretchy fabric of her shorts, holding herself as her thighs quaked through her own orgasm.

  “Are you coming?” said Lillian with a smile. “You’re coming too!” She laughed gleefully and caressed Claire’s head.

  Claire rested her forehead against Lillian’s thigh and breathed heavily, holding herself and enjoying the immense thrill of coming with the delectable scent of celebrity trainer Lillian’s pussy so close to her.

  Slowly, Lillian removed her legs from around Claire’s shoulders and scooted up on the bench, sitting up now, still panting, her hair lightly mussed from the sexual workout.

  Claire took a deep breath and opened her eyes, looking at Lillian. A smile grew on her lips.

  “You’re a winner,” said Lillian. “You’ve got this competition locked up.” She smiled and touched Claire’s chin.

  Lillian stood up on and stretched her small muscular frame out, arms in the air. She then reached down to the floor to grab her spandex capris and started to slide them up her legs.

  “Get up, babe,” said Lillian. Claire followed her trainer’s orders and stood.

  “Did I do okay?” asked Claire.

  “You were great,” said Lillian, leaning in and kissing Claire on the cheek.

  “What now?” said Claire, looking around the gym, her uncertainty returning.

  “Now?” said Lillian, stepping back into her sneakers. “Go make yourself a dinner pita with three ounces of the Cathy O lean chicken and then get some rest.” Lillian grinned and patted Claire on the ass. “I think we’ve discovered a new workout regimen for you, babe.”

  Claire smiled and blushed softly, looking down. She was so elated to have expressed herself to Lillian, to have opened up to her sexy trainer, and to have pleasured her. She felt woozy with the excitement of it all.

  In that moment, she knew that she could win the competition. With Lillian on her side, there was nothing that could stop her.

  Claire beamed with confidence.

  40-LOVE: SERVING MY TENNIS COACH

  “Just a few more,” shouted Margaret from across the tennis court. Lucy nodded to her and awaited her coach’s serve. Lucy had made the tennis team at college in her freshman year, a pretty awesome feat, and Margaret, one of the coaches, had taken the student under her wing to improve her play. Margaret was a beautiful woman of 40 years old, still trim and fit thanks to her dedication to sport, and she was more like a big sister than a coach. She was always there for Lucy to talk to and she was always looking out for her pupil.

  Tossing the ball up, Margaret smacked it hard with her racket sending the ball flying over the net and toward Lucy. Margaret could really hit, the velocity of her volleys was far greater than Lucy had ever experienced with her coaches before college. It was well known that Margaret had actually played tennis professionally for a number of years and she could certainly play like a pro.

  As the ball bounced in front of Lucy, she took a crack at it with her racket and returned th
e serve handily, directing the ball back toward her coach. It coasted just over the net and sliced to the right, spinning downwards near Margaret. Without a flinch, Margaret reached and grabbed the ball out of the air.

  “Great, Lucy,” Margaret said. “That was great.”

  “Thanks,” Lucy called back.

  Margaret quickly stuffed the ball into the elastic band of her white tennis skirt and slid her racket under her arm. She reached up and took her long blonde hair out of a ponytail, readjusted it, and tied it back up into a haphazard bun. Truly a gorgeous woman, glamorous even, Lucy thought it such a shame that Margaret didn’t make it further in her professional career. It wouldn’t have been much of a stretch to see her alongside celebrities in various commercials or see her sponsored by some of the giant athletic companies. Her skin was perfectly tanned from playing tennis outside, her hair sun-soaked blonde as though she were a surfer, big blue eyes. When Lucy looked at her coach, she wished that she could be just like her.

  “Last one, babe,” said Margaret, bringing her racket back to her hand and taking the ball from her skirt. “Ready?”

  Lucy nodded and got into position, bent over and composed.

  Margaret again threw the ball up and sent it Lucy’s way with a loud thwack sound. It traveled toward Lucy with incredible speed but Lucy kept her eye on it, following it as it bounced before her. With quick reflexes, Lucy smashed the ball with her racket and sent it back toward Margaret just as before, aiming the ball in the direction of her coach.

  As the ball approached Margaret, she simply batted it off to the side of the court with her racket. She smiled and waved toward Lucy, starting a walk toward the net.

  Lucy followed her lead and made her way toward center court.

  “Killer,” said Margaret, reaching the net just before Lucy. She reached her hand out to shake. Lucy smiled bashfully and shook her coach’s hand.

  “Your serves are ridiculous, Coach,” said Lucy. “I felt like a couple of them were going to break my wrist.”

  Margaret laughed and patted Lucy’s upper arm over the net.

  “You’ll be there soon, Lucy,” said Margaret. “I think you’ve really got a shot.”

  “At what?” said Lucy, a bit confused.

  “Pros,” said Margaret with a smile.

  “Isn’t it too late for me?” said Lucy. “I mean, Vera Oh is on the pro tour and she’s not even in college yet.”

  “Come on, Lucy,” said Margret. “You’re only 18 years old. It’s not too late for you, silly girl.” Margaret laughed and shook her head. “Crazy.”

  “Sorry,” said Lucy, blushing.

  “Let’s head inside and get out of the sun for a bit,” said Margaret. She walked along the net until she got to the edge of the court where she had a towel lying on the ground. Lucy followed closely behind on her side of the net and watched her coach as she walked. Margaret’s legs were long and muscular and tanned, her thighs barely covered by her short tennis skirt. As Margaret reached the edge of the court, she bent over to pick up her towel and Lucy caught a glimpse of the white built-in panties of Margaret’s tennis skirt. Lucy tilted her head slightly to get a better look up her coach’s skirt.

  As Margaret came back up with her towel, she turned around toward Lucy and smiled, wiping off her neck and face. She motioned for Lucy to follow her into the house and the two women trotted along together, Margaret in the lead and Lucy shadowing.

  *

  Lucy was so honored to be able to train on Margaret’s own tennis court at her home. She was the only girl on the team that Margaret had invited to personally train and while Lucy felt some jealous coldness from certain teammates, she decided to be grateful for the opportunity and take full advantage of it. If Margaret felt that Lucy had what it took to go pro then Lucy would make her coach proud and train in whatever way Margaret saw fit.

  Margaret’s home was a nice ranch house, not too large but certainly not small, partitioned off into a few different wings. It was the kind of home that someone with a bit of wealth steeped in modesty might own, perfect for a single woman in her 40s who had played tennis professionally. Margaret had obviously done well for herself and her coaching job at the university was quite high profile. She had personally coached a few other girls who were currently playing pro tennis and Lucy could tell she was a hot commodity. The big newspaper in the state had even run an article about how the university had re-signed Margaret to a new contract, snatching her from the offer of another great tennis program across the country.

  Margaret led Lucy into the kitchen and made her way toward the refrigerator. She retrieved two blue sports drinks from the fridge and slid one across the kitchen island toward Lucy. The kitchen was modern and clean, with an open layout and a wall of windows looking out toward a pool and the tennis court.

  Opening up her sports drink and taking a gulp, Lucy took in the scene around her. It was a calm and beautiful Saturday afternoon and the sun lazily shone into the kitchen, lighting the kitchen without being oppressive. She looked to Margaret who was absentmindedly fussing with her hair, her skin damp with sweat from their training session. Margaret’s white polo shirt had little flecks of sweat soaked through at random places on the stretchy fabric. Catching Lucy looking at her, Margaret smiled and held her drink up in the air in a mock toast.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Margaret, setting her drink down onto the kitchen island and then leaning her hip on the countertop.

  “Good,” said Lucy. “Energized.”

  “That’s great,” said Margaret. “I’m glad you could get over here today.”

  “Mm hmm,” nodded Lucy, averting her gaze and searching the room impishly.

  “What’s up?” said Margaret. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

  “Well,” started Lucy, looking down to her bottle. She took the bottle between her hands and spun it around idly.

  “Spill it,” said Margaret. “You can talk to me.”

  “I was wondering about your career,” said Lucy. “I mean, you’re so good at tennis and you only played for a couple years.”

  “Ah,” said Margaret, nodding perceptively.

  “Did anything happen?” said Lucy. “Did you have an injury or something?”

  “No, that wasn’t it,” Margaret replied. “To be honest, Lucy, I just wasn’t good enough.”

  “What? No way,” countered Lucy. “I’ve seen you play a match with Coach Barnaby. You’re incredible.”

  “Thank you, dear,” said Margaret with a laugh. “But the pros are a different beast.” Margaret reached up and undid the bun in her hair, letting her blonde locks fall down to her shoulders. She shook her head softly to fluff her hair out.

  “And you really think I have what it takes?” said Lucy. She squirmed slightly in her tight black spandex shorts, the fabric of which barely even touched her thighs they were so short. Lucy pulled at the stretchy material, airing it out as it stuck to her humid flesh underneath.

  “I do,” said Margaret. “I think you’ve got a lot of potential.”

  “I’m not so sure,” said Lucy, looking down again, her lack of confidence showing. Margaret smiled softly and came around the kitchen island to Lucy’s side and put her arms around Lucy, pulling her in for a hug. Both women were still quite sweaty from the court and Lucy could feel the damp flesh of Margaret’s arms around her.

  “Just believe in yourself, Lucy,” said Margaret. “And stick with me.” She put her head against Lucy’s head now as the hugged, and Lucy wrapped her arms around Margaret’s waist, accepting the affection of her coach.

  “I like being with you,” said Lucy, settling into Margaret’s embrace. She could smell a lusty sweatiness coming off of her coach and it suddenly, from out of nowhere, made her feel slightly aroused. Margaret stroked Lucy’s lower back delicately.

  “I like being with you, too,” said Margaret. She kissed the side of Lucy’s head.

  “Can I admit something to you?” asked Lucy, pulling
away gradually from their hug and now looking at Margaret’s face.

  “Of course, dear,” said Margaret, reaching up and fondling a tress of Lucy’s dirty blonde hair.

  “I think you’re really pretty,” said Lucy, blushing and swiftly averting her eyes. Margaret laughed softly and put her forehead against Lucy’s.

  “What are you trying to say?” said Margaret.

  “I like you,” said Lucy. “It’s weird.”

  “You’re just saying that because I’m your coach and we spend so much time together,” said Margaret, releasing Lucy from their hug and moving a step back.

  “Maybe,” said Lucy.

  “Are you a lesbian, Lucy?” asked Margaret inquisitively, tilting her head to one side.

  “I don’t know,” said Lucy. “You are, though, right?”

  “Well,” said Margaret cautiously. “Who told you that?”

  “I just heard it somewhere,” said Lucy, moving a wisp of hair from her eyes.

  “I am a lesbian,” said Margaret.

  “I don’t know if I am,” said Lucy. “But I feel so close to you, and…” she said, trailing off.

  “And?” said Margaret, raising an eyebrow.

  “I’m nervous about it all,” started Lucy. “And I was wondering if you could, you know, coach me on that too.”

  “Oh,” said Margaret knowingly. “I get it now.”

  “I hope that’s not weird,” said Lucy. “Or presumptuous. I mean, I don’t even know if I’m pretty enough for you.”

  “Oh Lucy,” laughed Margaret. “If you think I wouldn’t love to be intimate with my 18-year-old student, well…” she laughed again and shook her head.

  “It’s weird, I know,” said Lucy.

  “I’m only human,” said Margaret. “I’ve got urges just like you.”

  “So, you could be interested in helping me?” said Lucy, looking up to her coach with a naïve pleading face.

  “I think we can work something out, dear,” said Margaret with a devilish grin on her face. “Why don’t you follow me?”