Lesbian Erotica

by Carla Blake

  Then she spread her and using both hands, parted Suzy’s pussy lips and licked her long and slow, using the flat of her tongue to savour every last inch of her as Suzy shuddered and moaned and fought hard to lock her knees.

  She probed her cunt. The tip of her tongue an inquisitive creature as she folded it and pushed it as far as she could into Suzy’s cunt. Then she fucked her like that, hardly gaining any entry at all but certain, by the amount of liquid she was lapping, that Suzy was loving it. After a while, and moving away again, she returned to kissing her thighs, smiling at Suzy’s groan of disappointment and swiftly replacing it with a sigh of pleasure as she pushed two fingers into her cunt as far as they would go. Then she fucked her, making every stroke count, quickening the pace and the pressure when after several strokes, Suzy’s fingers buried themselves in her hair and she begged her to make her come.

  She used her tongue again, finding Suzy’s clit and lapping at it, rolling the nub between her lips then allowing her tongue to probe and rub whilst her fingers continued to slide in and out in sticky ecstasy.

  Above her, Suzy juddered and she knew she was close to coming and in response, Beth licked her still harder, feeling Suzy’s clit standing proud as her orgasm crept ever closer and her legs began to shake.

  She fucked her harder, her tongue lapping, licking and delving into secret, warm places designed for pleasure until Suzy, gasping that she was coming, suddenly stood bolt upright and with her legs trembling violently fell headlong into her orgasm.

  Then she collapsed onto the floor.

  Beth went down with her.

  “ I take it I did that right.” Beth laughed, once they’d both recovered and she could help Suzy back onto the sofa. “ You tasted wonderful by the way.”

  “ What you were doing was wonderful.” Suzy sighed. “ And for someone who claims they’ve never done that before…” She left the sentence hanging.

  Beth chuckled. “ I haven’t!” She insisted. “ Honest. I just did what.. came naturally I suppose.”

  “ Well I certainly came naturally. That was fucking great. But what happens now?”

  “ Well, I was thinking of getting dressed and putting the kettle on.”

  “ Sounds great, but I was thinking about what happens with me and you. Do you want this just to be a quick fuck and I disappear down the mountain, or were you planning on turning it into something else?”

  Beth bit her lip. “ Truthfully, I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed what we just did, no one has ever made me come like that before, but I’m not sure I’m ready for another relationship, not yet. I’m sorry.”

  Suzy took her hand. “ It’s okay.” She said. “ If I’m honest, I sorta feel the same way. And we don’t really know each other that well, do we? It would be stupid to just rush in and announce that we’re a couple all of a sudden.”

  Beth nodded. “ I don’t want to loose you though.” She added quickly. “ I wouldn’t have had half as much fun if you hadn’t been here and I’m not just talking about the sex. So how about if we take it slow. Like you said, get to know each other, and see how it goes from there.”

  “ Sounds like a plan.” Suzy agreed. “ But how do we start? Do I tell you my life story or do we go shopping or something? It’s going to be weird starting from scratch when we’ve already slept together.”

  Beth scratched her head. “ You’re right.” She said. “ And I don’t think we can. We’ve come too far already. Done too much, if you get my meaning? Oh, sod it! Life’s too bloody short. Move in with me, Suzy. Hang out with me in my Scottish retreat. And whilst you’re doing it, fuck my brains out.”

  Caravan

  The smell hit her first. Candy floss and burgers. Sweet and meat. The distinctive aromas drawing her in even before her eyes caught sight of the lights and the brightly striped awnings and the little group of caravans, huddled at the far end of the park like plotters in the dark.

  She paused at the entrance, her boots sinking into the soft grass, now churned into muddy clumps by numerous feet and the passage of vans.

  A scream whipped her head round to the right, and she gazed towards the nearest ride. A group of girls all hanging desperately onto the safety bar whilst the car tossed them round and round and they screamed and screamed to go faster.

  A horn sounded, blaring into the night and she shivered, for the first time wishing she had taken heed of her mate’s advice and not come to the fairground alone.

  But it was too late now, she was here.Her feet taking her forward across the soft grass, the smell of frying onions hanging in the air, the sudden appearance of her own reflection, staring back at her from a huge mirror hanging behind a stall, reminding her that at twenty three she shouldn’t be here all by herself. There should be someone with her. Hanging from her arm and excitedly debating which ride to go on first, which garishly coloured stuffed toy to try and win.

  But there was no one and she was alone.

  The breeze chilled her and she wrapped her coat around herself, thinking it would probably smell foul in the morning along with her hair. The aromas of the fairground impregnating themselves into the very pores of her skin.

  A cable, thick as her forearm snaked across the grass and she stepped carefully over it, making for nowhere and content for now to merely circle the fairground and see what was happening. A couple passed her, kissing. The girl holding a toy Panda and a can of coke at a precarious angle. Another shriek and her gaze turned upwards towards the Ferris wheel, its giant frame silhouetted against the night sky, an perfusion of multi coloured lights revolving slowly as the ride came to a halt.

  She walked on, navigating her way over more cables and crumpled litter trodden deep into spongy mud. Her eyes sought out a booth with a red and white striped awning and she wandered towards it, her ears assaulted by pop music played too loud.

  She paused to watch a teenager in jeans and a hoodie try to win a bright yellow teddy bear for his girlfriend and wondered why he bothered. The games were fixed, the darts he was now trying to aim with some precision at the dartboard, either designed to fall short or veer wildly to one side.

  He lost of course and she saw him dig deep into his pocket, determined to win a vulgar keepsake for the blond by his side.

  Fool, she thought and kept going, hearing a quiet hiss of dismay as the teenager’s next attempt slammed into the booth’s counter and his girlfriends voiced her disappointment. Would they never learn?

  “ Hey, why so glum?”

  She didn’t answer, convinced the question was not aimed at her and she turned round the side of a booth, the bright glare of the fairground’s lights reflected in a coke can she caught with her boot and sent spinning.

  “ Hey! Nice kick.” The voice now cried and she turned, frowning at the stall holder now waving to beckon her over. “ You alright?” The stall holder asked once she was in regular earshot. “ For someone at a fairground you don’t look very happy.”

  Chrissie stared at her and the stall holder, a girl of about her own age with long dark hair tied up in a ponytail and dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans ripped either by design or default, smiled. “ What’s up?” She asked, leaning over the counter to see Chrissie better. “ Boyfriend dumped you?”

  Chrissie shook her head.

  “ Run out of money?”

  Another shake of the head.

  The stall holder sighed. “ Don’t tell me,” she teased, “ your tongue has been ripped out of your head and you’re frightened you may never be able to order another hamburger again. Babe, I feel your pain.”

  Chrissie smiled.

  “ Now that’s better. I’m Skye by the way. Vaguely Irish on my mother’s side and merely vague on my father’s. So what’s eating at you, pretty girl, cos something sure is. Tell you what, give me five and we’ll go grab a cuppa. Then you can tell me all
about it.”

  Chrissie hesitated then stood her ground, unsure why she was doing so. Unsure even, why she had ever let herself become so low. Yet she had. Work was the main culprit, she thought, the manager she was working with, a right cow, always moaning and piling on the pressure and never a word of thanks. Then there was the flat she was renting. What a dump! Dark and small and tucked away without, it seemed, the remotest chance of the sun ever finding it, she dreaded returning home each night. What she needed was to move, to find air and space and a patch of grass to sit on, but it was so hard. So difficult to drag herself out of this quagmire of unhappy lethargy and do something about it.

  Maybe she’d thought the fairground would help.

  Maybe she’d hoped that the lights and the noise and the sheer exuberance of other people would lift her out of her misery and make her smile again.

  Or maybe she’d simply been stupid to even think that.

  “ Ready?”

  Skye had re-appeared just as she’d said she would, a jacket slung over one arm, a bunch of keys dangling from her hand. “ It’s me break.” She said by way of explanation for the abandonment of the stall. “ Gerry can take over for a bit, the lazy git. Do him good to do some work for a change. “ What you say your name was again?”

  “ I didn’t.” Chrissie replied. “ But it’s Chrissie.”

  “ Okay Chrissie, let’s go grab ourselves a cuppa.”

  They made their way towards the caravans, just as Chrissie knew they would and Skye chatted all the way. The weather, the places she’d visited, the amount of red tape it took these days just to secure a decent pitch.

  “ Have you been with the fairground long then?” Chrissie asked, noticing how eerily quiet the park had become now they’d left the noise and the screaming behind. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

  Skye, however, didn’t seem to notice. “ No.” She said. “ Not me. I only started here last year, but I hear the olden’s talking all the time, always bitchin’ they are, about the old days and how much better everything was.”

  “ So you’re not..?” Chrissie hesitated.

  Skye picked up for her. “ What?” She smiled. “ A gypo? A traveler? Nah. I was born in Belfast in a semi detached. Me parents brought me over here when I was little to escape the troubles, and I’ve been here ever since.”

  “ So how come you work for the fairground?”

  Skye grinned. “ Because I got fed up working in the supermarket and listening to old folk complaining about the size of fruit and the cost of bread. I tell you, there’s only so much of that a girl can take! Joining the fair seemed like the ideal way to escape the drudgery and see a bit of the country. The Lake Districts nice by the way. Beautiful scenery. And Scotland was a blast! Got totally wrecked there. Ah, here’s me caravan.”

  She unlocked the door and was met by a black and white cat who mewed pitifully and then shot out across the grass.

  “ Misty.” Skye said as the cat disappeared beneath a neighbouring caravan, “ probably dying for a wee, poor thing. She’ll be back later after she’s blagged a few bits of burger and a good tickle under the chin. Come on in.”

  Chrissie stepped inside. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting – tatty old furniture, crystal balls, a headscarf at least? – but Skye’s caravan was nothing like that. The sofa, curving around the far end of the caravan was undoubtedly clean and upholstered in a deep burgundy with matching cushions that looked soft and inviting. In front stood a small table with a single candle in the middle and a stack of books in the rack beneath, whilst the rest of the furniture, made from a light wood, appeared to be almost new including a little kitchen finished with white tiles.

  “ Toilet’s through there if you need it.” Skye said pointing to another door behind her, “ and that’s the bedroom. What you think then? You like?”

  “ It’s not what I was expecting.” Chrissie admitted. “ It’s lovely.”

  Skye folded her arms. “ Oh, I see.” She said with a smile on her face. “ You were expecting a bunch of gypsies sitting round smoking pipes and carving out pegs were you?”

  Chrissie laughed. “ Not quite.” She admitted. “ But close.”

  “ Well I’m delighted you’re wrong and even more delighted to see a smile on your face. So what’s it to be? I got ordinary tea, Earl Grey or coffee.”

  Chrissie chose the ordinary tea. “ Did they give you this caravan then?” She asked, sitting on the sofa and noticing for the first time the small TV Skye had tucked away inside a cabinet. “ Or is it yours?”

  “ It’s mine.” Skye said, filling up a kettle. “ I had planned to go traveling once I’d saved up enough money. I wanted to see a bit of Europe, bum around France that kind of thing, but you know what’s it’s like, something always seems to get in the way.”

  “ And what’s getting in the way now?” Chrissie asked. “ Work?”

  “ No. Just.. stuff. You want milk in this?”

  They drank the tea and Chrissie turned to look out of the window behind her. In the distance she could still see the outline of the Ferris wheel as it took its riders on its slow, revolving flight, the music that accompanied it dimmed to a low hum. She sniffed her sleeve and caught the faint aroma of burgers and onions, then turned back to see Skye looking at her intently. She smiled when she noticed Chrissie looking.

  “ So what’s your story then?” The Irish girl asked. “ Why so glum?”

  Chrissie shrugged. “ The usual. Work. Landlords. Life. A complete and utter absence of a significant other.”

  “ Right. So you’ve not just broken up with someone then? Not nursing a broken heart?”

  “ Nope, not even sure I have one. Why?”

  “ Because it’ll make it a damn sight easier to do this.”

  And leaning across, Skye kissed her.

  Chrissie’s flight to the far end of the sofa was made in record time and wiping her mouth, she rounded on the girl in fury. “ What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” She cried. “ Shit, is that why you asked me in here? So you could fucking’ rape me!”

  Skye looked shocked. “ Hey, I’d hardly call a kiss, rape. I thought you might find it comforting.”

  “ Well, I bloody don’t! And I’m leaving. Right now.”

  Skye let her go and Chrissie, filled with indignant anger, stormed out, allowing the caravan door to slam shut behind her. Shit, she thought, stomping back across the grass, where the fuck did she get off, snogging her like that! Bloody gypsies. Just because you went to their bloody fairground they thought they could do what they bloody well liked.

  The rest of the fairground seemed tainted after that, the lights less bright, the music more grating and she left as quickly as she could, kicking mud from beneath her boots as she strode out onto the pavement and fumed her way home.

  The next evening she was back.

  The day had not been good. To start with she’d dreamt constantly about Skye and the kiss. Except in her dream she hadn’t stormed off in a fit of indignant fury, but kissed her back, winding her fingers through Skye’s long, dark hair and looking deep into her laughing blue eyes. She’d even heard her voice, begging her not to be angry, to forgive her, to return to the waiting circle of her arms, and all night she had tossed and turned, undecided whether to let the incident go or report the Irish girl to the Fairground hierarchy.

  Work had merely been a continuation of the nightmare and finding it difficult to focus, her manager had seized on the chance to be even bitchier than normal, demanding Chrissie do this and that and forever calling her from her office as if she were a personal slave at her beck and call. Come evening, therefore, she was a bundle of nerves and unable to concentrate on television or a book for thinking about the girl who had caught her so off guard, she’d found herself dragging on coat and boots and grabbing her house key.

  Now she stood at the entrance aga
in, immersed in an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu and almost reluctant to take the first step.

  She took it, hearing the familiar thud-thud of over loud music and breathing in the pungent aroma of onions. Mud squished beneath her boots and splattered her jeans and she made herself a promise that if they were ruined by this visit, then Skye would pay.

  But Skye wasn’t at her booth and when she asked the burly man in a stained T-shirt and stubble that was now standing there, were she was, he told her Skye was on a break and that he didn’t expect her back for a while.

  In return, Chrissie told him that was no problem, and making her way towards the caravans, she half expected to hear someone chase after her and demand to know where the hell she thought she was going? She was bloody relieved when she didn’t.

  Skye’s caravan, however, was empty when she arrived and the door locked. Misty, the cat, was in though, sitting on the window sill and licking a paw, and as she didn’t seem particularly bothered to be on her own, Chrissie tapped lightly on the glass, soliciting nothing more than a yawn from the animal before it settled down for a nap.

  So what do I do now? Chrissie thought, gazing around herself and seeing nothing but darkened caravans. Where do I look?

  Then she heard her, singing in her soft, Irish lilt and following the sound, Skye’s voice draw her forwards, directing her towards the last of the caravans where it was darker and quieter.

  And where Skye was waiting for her.

  “ I knew you’d come back.” She said, the moment Chrissie rounded the corner. “ I knew you would.”

  “ No, you didn’t.” Chrissie said, immediately defensive. “ How could you?”

  Skye tapped the space between her eyes. “ Because I have the sight.”

  “ Oh because you saw me coming. I thought you said you weren’t a Gypsy.”

  “ Would you have come back to my caravan if I’d said I was?”

  “ Probably not.”

  “ There you go then. That’s why I kept quiet. Are you still mad at me?”