Best Lesbian Erotica 2011

by Kathleen Warnock

  I hear her orgasm, more than I feel it. That’s the downside of a strap-on. No nerve endings. She yells and sighs and I wonder if anyone can hear us, if they’ll come barging in at any moment. Whatever. I’m having fun.

  “Get on your knees,” I tell her. She does, a bottom through and through. “Suck it.”

  She rolls the condom off and licks the head before putting it in her mouth. I watch her suck and try to imagine how her boyfriend feels when she does this to him. I wind my fingers through her hair and guide her lips along. It looks hot. I strain forward and she takes it all.

  Her hand wanders up my thigh and finds something it likes. I feel her go inside. She remembers what I like. It’s funny how I still feel like a man with her in my vagina. No contradiction between her sucking my cock and fingering my pussy. I’m so worked up from the stimulation and visuals that I finish right away in a little explosion of muscular contraction. Aftershocks reverberate up and down my body. I’m shaking, so far into sensation that I barely notice her move away.

  We don’t speak. She stands, brushes off her pants before putting them back on. She avoids my eyes. I pull the dildo out of my harness and stuff it in my back pocket. It feels silly now, bouncing around. My underwear feels wet. We used to laze in bed for hours after sex, refusing to get dressed and face the world. When my world shrank down to her naked body and skin was our only barrier.

  I pick up the deflated rubber and torn packaging, look around to see if we left anything else. There’s nothing on the floor, but I notice a little blinking red light coming from the ceiling. “Shit.”

  “What is it?” she asks.

  I point. The light is attached to a security camera painted to match the walls.

  “Fuck,” she says. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Every word is ice. She’s glaring like I planned this. “I could get fired.” Alice teaches preschool. Forgot to mention that.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. So much for afterglow.

  “We have to do something.” She’s starting to panic. After panic comes yelling and I really want to avoid that.

  “I’ve got it.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Trust me, okay?” She doesn’t look convinced. “Can you find your way out? Meet me at the entrance.” With a little more cajoling I get her out the door. Then I wander back into the main factory and pace until something looks familiar. I make my way toward Gary’s office. The door’s locked. I drum my fists against it. No answer. “Open up. It’s me.”

  Shuffling noises come through the wall, a couple steps and the door swings open. Gary’s standing there, alone, thank god. He looks flushed. Behind him lie a dozen monitors stacked unsteadily on his desk, showing different parts of the building.

  “Give it,” I say.

  “Give what?” His voice is husky. There’s a crumpled tissue on the floor.

  “You know what I want.”

  “Don’t think I do. Unless…did you want this?” He grabs a cassette from his desk and dangles it above my head. I know better than to jump—he’s six-four. Arms like a gorilla. “I can get into big trouble for losing security footage, you know?”

  “Nobody looks at that shit but you.”

  “Well, maybe I want a copy for personal use,” he teases. “Some hot, lesbian action for those long, lonely shifts.” He fakes jerking off and ends with a big explosion, sound effects and all. My friends are real mature. “Didn’t know you and Ali were even talking, let alone that.”

  “I’m gonna kick your ass if you don’t give me the tape.”

  “Big talk from the little dyke.” He hands it over with big cheesy grin. “You owe me one.”

  “Deal.” I take the tape and run outside. I know I’m buying him beer for months. Maybe I should get Alice to chip in? Or maybe she shouldn’t know he saw.

  Either way, I get it to her. She looks surprised.

  “Am I good, or what?”

  “You’re something all right.” There’s a glint in her eyes that I hope bodes well.

  “You might want to watch it and make sure I got the right one.”

  “I’ll do that.” The glint becomes a full-blown smile. Something tells me that tape isn’t headed for the furnace. I kind of want a copy but decide against pushing my luck.

  “So, um, I guess I’ll see you around.” I run a hand through my cropped hair, not sure whether to give her a hug or a kiss or what.

  Alice gives me a peck on the cheek. The contact feels awkward. We’ve changed since breaking up. Subtle changes, sure, but solid enough our bodies no longer fit. I walk her to the parking lot and watch her drive away. She got what she wanted from me, plus a souvenir. Lucky girl. Maybe she’ll watch it with her boyfriend.

  Whatever. I don’t care. They can do what they want. The bus is a long way off. I turn my back on the industrialized landscape and start walking.

  THE NUMBER 91

  Heidi Champa

  Moving to the city had meant giving up many things, but my car was the first to go. There was no place to park it at my new apartment and paying for a space across town seemed pointless. So, I bid it farewell and sold it to a new, and hopefully loving, owner. It would be public transportation for me, from now on. While I missed the joys of singing along to the radio and putting on my makeup at stoplights, at least I could console myself with the idea that I was helping to save the environment.

  I stood on the narrow swath of cement, waiting for the Number 91 tram. Every day, it was the same routine: the 7:40 a.m. and the 5:17 p.m. The trams were usually on time, not like the buses. That was a lesson I learned the hard way, after being late for work three days in a row. So, I started waiting for the loud, rumbling cars every morning, and I hadn’t missed a single meeting since.

  The trams also provided an added bonus I hadn’t counted on. Every Monday, Thursday and Friday, I got to ride home with Stella. She was gorgeous, even in the awful blue-gray transit authority uniform. It seemed a crime to put someone so beautiful into something so ugly, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter. Her sewn-on name tag stuck out from under her long dark hair, and from the first day I read her name, Stella was burned into my brain. I always sat at the front of the car so I could stare at her through the glass partition.

  I had only spoken to her once, but that was all it took. It was the first day I stepped on the tram; the very first time I saw her perfect face. I realized I didn’t know how the ticket system worked, and I panicked a bit before biting the bullet and asking for help. I tapped on the little windowed compartment and Stella turned and gave me a nod.

  “How much for the weekly pass?” I asked, then smiled. Her blue eyes were so distracting, I almost forgot why I was standing there. She smiled back, her rose-pink lips stretching over her almost too-perfect teeth.

  “The machine is right back there; it will give you the ticket. The weekly pass is seven-fifty.”

  She wasn’t impatient or angry. She didn’t even give me the look of pity that the rest of the city folk had perfected for people like me—just that smile. I almost stumbled, my high heel slipping on the grooved walkway as the tram lurched forward. I recovered and headed back to the machine to buy my ticket, fumbling with my money, trying to remain cool and calm despite my pounding heart. After that, I was hooked. But I never talked to her again. There was no legitimate reason for me to engage her, despite my efforts to think of one. So, I had to be content to look at her and admire her from afar.

  I become an expert with a monthly pass, like most of the people around me. I was a regular. Every day that Stella drove we shared a smile, and I sat and watched her through the glass. Occasionally, she glanced my way, in her casual, offhand manner. When she did, I felt my body tighten and my insides turn to mush. Being new to the city, I didn’t have many friends. Stella managed to make me feel less alone, without ever saying a word. Somehow, knowing she was there made me feel like I had someone to count on, even though we were strangers.

  I started to learn my way around the city a
nd ventured out beyond my little neighborhood. I even managed to convince a few friendly people that I wasn’t a total hick—no small feat with the accent I had. Even with my newfound comfort and community, Stella remained my touchstone. During those rides home, I couldn’t stop glancing her way, looking at her lovely profile and trying to grow the courage to say something, anything to her. As we screeched our way through the city over the tramlines, I couldn’t help but wonder what her voice might sound like, how her hands might feel on my body.

  One Friday night, after a long day, I waited patiently for the tram that would take me home. My stomach contracted, as it always did, as the Number 91 pulled up to the stop. All I could think about were Stella’s soft blue eyes that would soon be staring back at me. But, as I entered, a different face looked down from the window. It was the usual Tuesday driver. His shock of red hair and messy beard gave him away immediately. I hesitated a few seconds, until the person behind me shoved me forward. I swayed with the tram down the street, my mind wandering. It was weird how thrown I was by her absence. I relied on Stella to always be there. Even though she just drove the tram, I felt more alone than I had in months. I shook my head, trying to get my composure back, but the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach wouldn’t go away.

  At home, I went through the motions of getting ready for a night out; a night out I wasn’t particularly interested in. But I had promised my friends, and I didn’t have a good excuse to cancel on such short notice. What was I supposed to say? I can’t go out because the girl I pine for wasn’t on the tram today. It sounded sad, even to me.

  Bar after bar, drink after drink, all I could think about was Stella. I was finally ready to talk to her. I had it all worked out. The end of the line was only three stops from my house. I was going to wait until the last stop and ask her some banal question, just to buy some time with her. Not a great plan, but it was the best I had come up with. At least now I would have more time to think of something clever to say, something that would make her see how much I liked her. It would just have to wait until after the weekend. If I had waited this long, a few more days weren’t going to kill me.

  As the shot glass in my hand hit the bar, I was finally starting to feel a bit better. Even drunk, my brain was annoyingly lucid, my sorrows finally starting to drown. I bid my new friends farewell and headed for the reliable old 91 that arrived in mere moments. Late-night trams were usually slow and only arrived every thirty minutes. But as most city dwellers knew, you timed your last drink according to tram time. I could see the lights in the distance as I leaned against the cool Plexiglas of the enclosure. As the tram came skidding to a halt, I could have sworn my drunken eyes were playing tricks: it was her behind the glass. Stella—waiting to greet me with her smile. I walked onto the tram, my mouth gaping open. I fumbled with my purse to find my ticket, but no matter how much I dug, it refused to be found. She kept her eyes on me, and the few people on the tram were too drunk to care about the delay. She finally motioned me past, her small hand waving for me to sit down.

  I sat before the tram lurched and wound down the deserted streets. The stops came and went, and my fellow tipsy passengers trickled off, finally leaving Stella and me alone. My stop was next, and I saw my chances dwindling with each block we passed. When we came to my stop, the tram shimmied to a halt. Stella looked at me; the doors opened for me to pass through. But I didn’t move. I just held her gaze, my eyes refusing to leave hers. After a few seconds, she closed the door, and the tram continued down the street, all the way to the end of the line. I sat there in silence, my stomach flipping over as Stella turned the lights off, putting the tram out of service. Suddenly, the glass door that kept her separated from the rest of the tram opened, and for the first time, I saw all of Stella. She was shorter than me, her long dark hair hanging down her back stopping just above her ass. That horrible uniform didn’t do much for her, but her curves were still visible through the coverall-style outfit. It was strange being so close to her, and my whole body registered the proximity. My mouth started moving before I could stop it, the first thing on my mind suddenly coming out of my lips.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. You weren’t on the five seventeen.”

  I felt so self-conscious. Stella just walked toward me and sat down, leaving very little space between us. The fabric of her uniform brushed against my leg and I could barely breathe.

  “Lewis needed to switch. I took his night shift. Lucky for you, I guess.”

  Her voice was like honey, seeping into my brain and making me swoon. It was not what I imagined it would be. It was better. She slid her hand over my leg, starting at the knee and working her way up. It was such a bold gesture, at least to me. I tried not to look stunned, but I don’t think I succeeded. Her hand stopped when it reached the top of my thigh, the hem of my skirt bunching a little under her fingers. I felt a surge of panic run through me, and I started to protest, even though I really didn’t want her to stop.

  “Stella, what are you doing?”

  She smiled and her demeanor was easy and calming.

  “Something I think we both want. I realized if I waited for you to make the first move, I’d be waiting forever.”

  Stella leaned closer to me, and my throat felt in danger of closing up. She continued talking, clearly ignoring my nervousness.

  “You know, you should really be wearing panty hose under that skirt. It’s a little chilly tonight.”

  Before I had the chance to say anything, she kissed me. Her lips were so soft I almost didn’t feel them at first. But her tongue was insistent, swirling into my mouth and taking my breath away. Her hand ran underneath my skirt this time, nudging my thighs apart, but she didn’t stop there. Her confident fingers kept moving upward until they rested dangerously close to my pussy, making me gasp. I thought she would stop, but she didn’t. Her fingers moved again, this time reaching my center and finding my panties wet.

  “But you don’t feel chilly at all. In fact, you seem a little hot.”

  Stella smiled and ran her finger between my cunt lips, pressing the cotton fabric against my sensitive skin. Her mouth was back on mine, as I urged my hips forward. She was teasing me, pulling away every time I tried to push harder against her hand. I could feel her smile under my lips, knowing she was driving me crazy.

  “Stand up.”

  Stella’s voice echoed off the wall of the tram. The dark was pierced by the nearby streetlight, giving us just enough illumination to see each other. I stood and walked to the center of the car, resting my back against the pole busy commuters had hung on to all day. She dropped down in front of me, her knees touching my feet. I could barely see the blue of her eyes in the dark. Her hands traced up my thighs, under my skirt and began to tug my panties down. I stepped out of them, moving slowly on my heavy legs. Starting at my knee, Stella’s tongue meandered up toward my pussy. I tried to push my hips forward toward her mouth, but she continued on, licking down my other leg. Again, I could feel the smile on her lips, her amusement at my torture. Her fingers found my pussy lips, now naked.

  “Stella.”

  It was all my mind could manage at that moment. The rest of my thoughts were too jumbled to express. Her thumb pressed my clit, a single finger sliding inside me and pulling all the way back out. She reached her hand to her mouth and licked her finger. A tiny gasp escaped my lips while I watched her. She looked sexier than any woman I had ever seen, even with the ugly uniform hugging her frame. Her moist finger slid back inside me and again came all the way out. While she thrust slowly, she continued to tease the tip of my clit with her soaking wet thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure. Over and over she plunged her finger inside me and left me empty again. I was practically whimpering for her to speed up, but she kept things at her pace.

  “Do you want me to lick that sweet pussy? Is that what all the fuss is about up there?”

  She knew exactly what I wanted and yet still didn’t give it to me. I didn’t think I could
manage to say the words out loud, but looking at her face, I knew she wouldn’t continue without them.

  “Yes. Please, Stella. Lick my pussy. Stop teasing me.”

  She smiled up at me, as she thrust two fingers into my weeping cunt. Finally, after several more agonizingly slow strokes, I felt the warm tip of her tongue wash over me, my clit throbbing at the contact. Her lips closed over my tender flesh, tugging my clit to rapt attention. Her fingers kept moving inside me, the sounds of my moans filling the empty tramcar. My knees felt like they were ready to give out, so I reached above my head for the handle to steady myself. Her hand held my hip and I let her control everything. She moved me slow, then fast, her fingers furious one minute and plodding the next. Two fingers became three, then four, stretching me open farther than I had been in months. I could hear her moaning into my cunt, the hum of her lips driving me absolutely mad. Her hand left my hip and I watched as she unzipped her uniform and reached into her own panties.

  My orgasm was building inside me, but Stella seemed to know that I was close. She backed off, leaving me restless and edgy. Her fingers were out of my body, their absence teasing and tormenting my empty pussy. As suddenly as she was gone, she was back inside me, and I nearly screamed. Her tongue attacked me, rubbing over my clit so fast I could barely keep standing. The heat, the explosion of pleasure crashed over me so quickly, I wasn’t ready for it. Stella was relentless, keeping me coming longer than I ever had before. I didn’t think it was ever going to stop, and I didn’t want it to. As far as I was concerned, Stella could keep me like this all night.