I’m usually the one to take charge, so this must have been something she’d been saving up for a while, and from the hungry look on her face when she was once again before me, Jackie was totally enjoying her newfound power. And, a bit surprisingly to me, so was I. Having no choice but to surrender to her, I reveled in the way she danced around me, bent over so I could see her tight jeans strain against her ass, which she thrust up in my face before grinding herself against my lap. Normally, it’s Jackie who’s lying across my lap while I spank her ass until it’s bright red, but watching her from this position made me see my little nymph in a whole new light. She knelt down in front of me, looking up at me as she prepared to lick my pussy through the fabric of my jeans, her blue eyes gleaming. She began with her fingers, pressing her folded knuckles against the tightness where my jeans stuck to my sex, pushing against the damp fabric while I melted further into my seat, my cunt spasming already as she glided her fingers along my slit and then focused on my clit, kneading me in such a way that made me desperate for her. She pinched my clit through the layers, then brought her fingers to my nipples, which were poking forward into the air. She twisted them between her fingers while I spread my legs as best I could, giving her room to smash her face against my pussy, making her mouth felt against the thickness of the denim. Her licks traveled slowly, teasing me as she tapped her tongue against my cunt, the muffled response causing me to twitch in the chair, feeling the bra straps scrape against my wrists as I moved. I wanted to cover her head with my hands, to press her deeper to me, to clasp her tight, but instead, I alternated thrusting my thighs far apart so they butted against the edges of the chair and then closing them, trapping her head between my legs while she burrowed as deeply as she could until finally, Jackie had mercy on me and lifted her head slowly, inching her tongue along the metallic tang of my zipper before taking it between her teeth and sliding it down, her fingers leaving my nipples to undo the button. I was grateful I’d chosen my most comfortable pair, because she easily slid them down my legs, leaving me sitting there in only my black cotton panties. Once again, Jackie breathed against my pussy, pressing her tongue against the musky wet cotton before finally moving it aside to taste the real thing.
Her tongue slipped easily inside my hole, and my whole body seemed to twist and tense like a pretzel, contorting as my breath caught in my throat, my pussy clamping down around her wet, slippery tongue. But Jackie wouldn’t let me hold her, and she pulled my panties down roughly, the elastic clawing against my calf until they were off and she had me, her prey, spread out in front of her. I had no time to be nervous or embarrassed, to worry about what this role reversal might signal, because there was Jackie fishing something out of her pocket, a small, tiny vibrator I hadn’t noticed before. It must have been new, and I looked down to see the bright blue buzzing toy about to connect with my cunt. I could hear it whirring, and my body braced for the onslaught. Jackie slipped two fingers into my pussy, pushing deep inside me as she rubbed the toy against my clit, making me tense up once again. Her eyes sought out mine once again, willing me to relax, and I let go of that final edge of control I’d been unknowingly clutching, that last barrier between my independence and my orgasm, and gave myself, all of myself, to my lover. Her fingers edged along my insides, seeking, stroking, healing, as she easily pushed another finger inside, filling me as she spread them apart and turned them for maximum impact. I lifted my ass slightly, feeling her fingers curl and caress in the most powerful of strokes while her other hand kept the vibe trained directly on my clit, and suddenly, I didn’t want to pull away at all.
I was no longer afraid of what might happen, only curious, desirous, as I looked down and watched my body accept that of my true love. She eased the toy away, leaving my clit pulsating, the air a revelation as my engorged skin continued to contract with need. And then her mouth was on me, her lips wrapped around my clit as her fingers probed me everywhere I needed her to be. I shut my eyes as her tongue gently brushed my nub, a softer, gentler pressure that seemed to radiate inward and outward at once, leaving me light-headed. Tears of pleasure welled up in my eyes as her fingers pressed quietly and deeply as far as they could go, touching that part of me that only Jackie has ever been able to access, that special place where my cervix meets my soul. I felt a tear fall as her tongue wandered along the contours of my clit, as if she were tasting me, meeting me, pleasing me, for the first time. And in some ways, it felt like that long-ago moment, except now we were giving and taking so much more, and when Jackie flattened her tongue against my clit, and I felt the pressure not just of her tongue and fingers but her entire heaving body, every breath and beat of her heart thudding against me, I came, making the chair teeter as my liquid trickled down onto her fingers.
Jackie kept her head pressed against my lap, kissing my inner thighs, stroking me with her wet fingers, until our breathing faded back to normal, the silence moving from one of frantic arousal to soothing calm. She finally rose, her breasts hovering near my lips as she reached behind me to unclasp my arms before sitting sideways across my lap, her legs dangling over the chair’s edge. Her face was streaked with sweat, that same sweet, intense smile lurking across her features. “See what happens when you sit still and quiet down, baby?” she whispered before resting her head against my shoulder. We stayed curled like that in the chair for over an hour, neither of us daring to break the stillness.
Erotica 101
Radclyffe
The really good thing about having a best friend you’ve known since grade school is that you don’t have to lie about anything—she’s already seen you puke in the gutter, treat nice girls badly, fall for the bad girls who always break your heart, and generally act like an asshole. Even more important, maybe, is that you don’t have to clean the house or get dressed up when she comes by unannounced to “just hang.”
So when Angie knocked on my door at a little after seven on Friday night, I was ensconced on the battered leather sofa in front of the fireplace in my living room, wearing baggy sweats with the cord missing from the waistband and a faded T-shirt that was once blue, reading sex stories from my favorite dyke publisher.
“Hey,” I said as I held the door open for her. “Come on in. Want a beer or something?”
“That’d be cool,” Angie said as she breezed by, bringing a cold rush of winter night air along with her. She draped her faux leopard jacket on the newel post and disappeared down the hall in the direction of warmth.
I watched her go, wondering why, if she was going to wear a skirt that barely covered her buns, she didn’t wear a coat that reached a little lower. I was willing to bet that the calf-high, black leather boots with the three-inch, needle-thin heels didn’t do much to keep anything else warm either. In between the top of the black leather boots and the bottom of the teeny black skirt was a long, long expanse of creamy skin and toned muscle.
Five minutes later, I handed her a pilsner with a perfect head, set a bowl of mixed nuts on the coffee table in front of us, and sat opposite her on the sofa. She was curled up in the corner, her feet drawn up beneath her butt, her boots abandoned on the floor. Her normally vibrant brown eyes were sulky, her pretty pink Cupid’s bow lips tightened into a thin pale line, and her heart-shaped face a study in discontent beneath a riot of black curls. It wasn’t like Angie to be moody. Unlike me, she wasn’t given to dark thoughts and a desire for long stretches of solitude. On Angie, quiet was bad.
“Give,” I said, patting my lap. Wordlessly, she stretched out her bare feet and planted them solidly in my crotch. I covered her toes with my palms and rubbed my fingers over the cool balls of her feet. “What’s the matter?”
She shrugged and swiped her tongue over the foam that hung on the rim of her glass. “I got stood up.”
Rapidly, I ran down the list of her latest conquests. A face came into focus. One not unlike mine, really. Short dirty blond hair, pale blue eyes, broad expressive features no one would ever call delicate. Sturdy body, kind of like mine t
oo. “The cop, right?”
“Umm.” The pout got poutier.
“So what happened?”
“We were supposed to go to a movie and then out clubbing.”
“She canceled?” My voice reflected my surprise. Angie was a looker and always had studs standing in line. She was not the kind of girl you kept dangling.
“Work.” She said it as if it were a dirty word. “Somebody called in sick and she had to take their shift.”
“Doesn’t sound like she stood you up,” I ventured carefully. “You know, just one of those things that happens.”
Angie shook her shoulders dismissively and burrowed her feet a little tighter between my thighs before announcing, “I was looking forward to it all week. And now I’m horny.”
I laughed. “Oh, now I get it.”
She glared at me.
“So, did you make another date?”
“Tomorrow,” she said as if it were a decade away.
“Well, you’ll probably survive until then.” I wiggled her big toe between my fingers. “You could always, you know, take matters into your own hands in the meantime.”
Her pout turned to disdain. “Hardly. It’s boring.”
I felt my eyebrows lift. Now, I enjoy a night with a hot sexy woman as much as the next dyke, but whether I’m getting it regular or not, I’ve never found a do-it-yourselfer boring. In fact, a lot of the time, it’s faster, easier, and hotter to get exactly what you want exactly the way you want it. “Boring? You’re kidding, right?”
“It just…oh, I don’t know…it never really works for me.”
The little bit of sadness in her tone wiped the grin off my face. I sat up straighter, unconsciously stroking her ankles and calves. “You mean you don’t think jerking off is fun?”
“Most of the time I can’t do it. I just get more frustrated.”
In the firelight, her color seemed to deepen, and I wondered if she was blushing. How could I not know this about her? We’d been trading sex stories since we were old enough to think about sex, let alone have any. And she’d never once told me that she didn’t like to masturbate.
“Maybe you need more practice.”
“Please.”
I laughed. “Okay. Let’s analyze this rationally.”
“There’s nothing to analyze. I don’t get that excited when I do myself. I just get tired and my mind wanders.” She snorted. “Before I know it, I’m running through my grocery list.”
“Well maybe you need better fantasies,” I suggested helpfully.
“That’s just it. I can’t seem to find anything that…well…gets me turned on enough to get me off.”
“Instant replays?” For some reason, enhancing Angie’s solo career had become my mission.
“Been there, done that.” She dropped her head back on the arem of the couch and studied the ceiling. Her hair shimmered in the red glow of the firelight, a reflection of the hot coals dancing. “Once I’ve done it for real, I’m not interested in fantasizing about it anymore.”
“Okaay.” I cradled her feet against my stomach and leaned forward to snag the book that I had dropped on the coffee table when Angie arrived. I held it up to show the cover image of two naked women, arms and legs entwined. “Maybe you should try this. It always works for me.”
Again she gave a dismissive sniff. “That stuff is just crap. It’s either totally unbelievable or it sounds like it’s been written by some high school boy.”
“Then you haven’t been reading the right erotica,” I said defensively. “I guarantee there’s something in here that would make you hot.”
Even in the dim light I could see her eyes glitter. Angie loved to gamble.
“Oh yeah?” She nudged my thigh with her heel.
“Yeah.”
“Whatcha wanna bet?”
There was something more than playful about the way she worked her foot back and forth on my leg. Intrigued, I decided to take her on. “I bet you dinner at the restaurant of your choice that I can find a story that makes you hot enough to come.”
“And just how are you going to tell?”
Her voice was husky and her eyes huge. I’d been just about to get down to some serious self-pleasure while reading earlier, and now the way she slowly slid the tip of her tongue over her lips zinged straight down to my crotch. Zap. Twitch. Clench. Uh-oh. I was wet, and if it weren’t for the thick sweatpants, Angie would be getting a sample of my excitement on her skin. I eased my hips back, away from her slowly rocking foot. In a voice that I hoped sounded steady and cool, I said, “We’ll use the honor system.”
She grinned and scrunched a little lower into the sofa. The movement caused her skirt to ride up her thighs, and I caught a glimmer of blue satin panties framed by pale velvety skin. My stomach tightened into a hard, hot ball as I casually flipped through the pages of the book, trying to find the one I’d been about to jerk off to. Then, when my brain cleared for a second, I remembered the object of my search and zeroed in instead on what I thought would turn Angie on.
“Here you go.” I held out the book and she took it with an expression that said, You’ve already lost.
Confident, I shifted one leg up onto the couch so that Angie’s feet were between my thighs and settled back for the show. I could see her face above the top of the book, her expression one of polite disinterest.
“I can feel you watching me,” she said, without looking up from the pages.
“Uh-huh.”
She smiled, pleased, I thought.
A minute went by, then two. She shifted her hips. Sighed.
“Think it’s sexy?” I asked.
“Mmm. Sort of. Be quiet.”
Her face had tightened, her eyes narrowed just a little. Interested now. The foot resting on my inner thigh twitched.
“What part are you reading?” I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know what was getting her hot. I palmed her foot, caressed her arch. My clit jumped every time her toes dug into my leg.
“She just saw the outline of the blonde’s cock in her leather pants,” Angie said idly and flipped the page. “She’s feeling her up.”
Angie slid the foot I wasn’t touching higher up between my legs until it was snugged against my crotch, then kind of rolled it back and forth in short, jerky little movements. The vibrations tingled the length of my clit and I ground my teeth. My thighs hurt from clenching them so tightly, trying to keep still. I knew the scene, I’d read it more than once, and I never failed to come with the base of the cock riding over my clit as some dark beauty jerked me off in the shadows of a nameless bar.
“Hot,” I croaked.
“Mmm, yeah.”
I traced my fingers up her leg from her ankle to her knee and back down again. On the next trip up, my gaze kept traveling north until I reached her crotch. Angie made a sound like purring and shifted again, her thighs parting further. A wet patch glistened in the island of blue. I tugged the heel of her foot hard against my clit. I was so stiff it hurt, but perversely, I welcomed the pain. It always took a hard workout to get me off.
“Where are you now?” I was breathing fast, and from the way the book rose and fell on the crest of Angie’s breasts, so was she.
“She’s sucking her off,” Angie murmured. “Jesus, right there in the bar.”
The pale blue covering her sex had darkened, soaked through, and the round prominence of her clit pushed out against the fabric. I imagined I could see it twitching in time to my own.
“She’s gonna make her lose it,” I whispered, “if she keeps that up. Make her come right there.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Angie crooned plaintively, dropping one hand to her thigh. Her legs trembled as she fitfully brushed her fingers up and down the silvery skin high inside one leg. The backs of her fingers swept over the blue satin. Her hips lifted. Fell. Lifted again. She pressed her fingertips to the swelling beneath the shiny triangle.
“Oh!” Angie blurted. “She’s getting her off.” She gripped her clit b
etween fingers and thumb and twisted in quick, spastic little jerks. The book shook in her grasp and her splayed legs stiffened along the inside of mine.
“Touch inside,” I urged, rubbing my pounding clit against Angie’s heel.
“I’ll come,” Angie whined, cupping herself and squeezing until the tendons stood out on her hand, tight bands of desperate desire.
“Don’t you want to?”
“Oh yes.” Her voice was high, strained.
“Do it.” I ground into her foot, riding her high.
She shoved the swatch of wet fabric aside, her fingers swirling madly over gleaming ruby flesh.
“So good,” she moaned. The book fell to the floor. She skimmed her free hand under her sweater and palmed her breast. My breath fled.
“Unh. Unh.” Angie’s wrist was a blur of motion, her belly tense, body writhing. “Good. Good. Coming so hard.” She jerked upright, her eyes blind, then tumbled back with a wail.
Lessons in Love Page 4
