by Rachel Heath
Rachel Heath’s Lesbian Erotica
by Rachel Heath
ISBN: 978-1-945648-14-4
A Pink Flamingo Media Ebook
Copyright ©2016 by Rachel Heath
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers.
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Pink Flamingo Media
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P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083
“Looking is Listening and... Shaving,” “What They Do” and “The Mystery of the Perverts’ were previously published in On Our Backs. “Playing the Bad Girl Game” appeared in The Spank Shoppe. “New Ladies, Clarice, and Me,” “Feeling the Good Parts,” and “The Tutor” were published in Bad Attitude. “Who Says A Blind Girl Can’t Be Bad?” as well as “Spanking and Miz SeeSaw” and “Duchess and Sharla” were published by CF Publications.
Table of Contents
Looking is Listening and... Shaving
New Ladies, Clarice, and Me
Making Us Lesbianese
The Hoosier Whoremongers
Feeling the Good Parts
Ass Woman’s Wonder
Playing the Bad Girl Game
The Tutor
What They Do
Overwhelmed
Spanking and Miz SeeSaw
Mrs. Danvers and Rebecca Late One Evening
The Mystery of the Perverts
Who Says A Blind Girl Can’t Be Bad?
Duchess and Sharla
Chapter One
Looking is Listening and... Shaving
I met Felicia at the last Social. She was at the other end of the room with a bunch of young folks. It’s a big room, there were over sixty people there but I noticed her. My type. Long black hair flowing down her shoulders and I could tell by the way she flung her hair and moved her hips, she was a sexy one.
Her group was listening to Rita Morales tell about the Balkans. Then Kevin Morales talked about their daughter’s graduation.
An old lady, I reminded myself. Plus I’m probably not even her gender. A teen-aged boy called her Mom but that doesn’t mean anything -- so many queers have kids.
I was talking to Gladys and Chuck, Gladys gave the run-down on AIDS and Magic Johnson, Chuck about Donald Trump’s new girlfriend and Ivana’s book. Harvey talked about the Operation Rescue fanatics. Harvey talks slowly but everyone makes an extra effort to encourage him; he was raised oralist so he has trouble Signing.
I’d already said my Hello, How Are Yous to Trudy, my ex-”roommate,” and Carmen, her girlfriend. We don’t have to actually go up to each other like Hearings do since we can talk from a distance but we can’t avoid each other either since we all attend the same Socials.
I’ve gotten used to seeing the two of them. Trudy left me over a year ago. Carmen is a nice lady; I don’t hate her. I’m really quite sorry when she says she injured her foot last week and that’s why it’s in a splint.
Trudy’s gone back to work part-time. She’s also put on weight which doesn’t look good on since she’s only five feet tall. Really, she’s getting fat. But she’s still dramatically good-looking, her plentiful snow-white hair swept to one side and up. Like her hair all over, I can’t help but think.
I was talking about the Pentagon trying to resist budget cuts when I saw Felicia telling a joke about Star Wars and asteroids. Since we were talking about the same thing I saw my chance and invited her over.
As she and her son made their way through the knots of people between us, I got a better look at them: poor guy, he had a terrible case of acne. He was dressed in a kind of preppy uniform, a white shirt and tie, jeans, his dull brown hair cut ‘50s-style short. Felicia was a different story. Her coloring was perfect from my point of view: fair skin, but black eyebrows and a detectable mustache (always a good omen). Her coal black hair had some white streaks but she was young, she couldn’t be over forty. A nice body, just a bit plump. Her powder blue jeans were ripped up and down and reminded me of a picture of Cher -- now there’s a lady I could really do something with.
After mutual introductions I asked Felicia and Gary why they came to this Social. I knew it was their first in this area because I’ve been to every Deaf Social since I retired. Now, that Trudy’s split, I don’t know what I’d do without them; it’s all Hearing where I live.
“I just moved. For a new job,” Felicia replied, “I’m an accountant.”
“How about you, Gary?” I asked, thinking: Felicia’s probably straight. And I’m too old for her.
“I’m going to a Junior College right now,” he said. “I’m a Hearie so I might work as a translator.”
“You’d be a good one,” I complimented, quite sincerely, “I’d never have guessed you weren’t Deaf. But kids who are raised by Signers... was your father Deaf, too?”
Felicia answered for him. “His Dad was Deaf but we broke up when he was little. My daughter, Gail, was exposed to as much Sign as he was but she’s very poor because she doesn’t use it often. She was embarrassed about having Deaf parents when she was growing up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Gail’s doing fine, though. She’s an X-ray technician. I’m proud of her even if she used to be embarrassed by me.”
“She’s not embarrassed by you anymore, Mom,” Gary added.
“Do you work, Sue?” Felicia asked. She wore two little rings and a bracelet -- with a woman symbol. She also had a tiny woman symbol for one earring.
“I’m retired but I used to be a Deaf Counselor for High School kids,” I said.
“Are you married?” Felicia asked.
“Never have been,” I tell them, feeling a twinge: I think of myself as divorced--abandoned. But I’m not out to the people at the Socials. In some of the bigger cities Gay Deaf have their own Socials but not here.
“I know a lot of people like that,” she says and pauses before adding, “Especially women.”
It’s a hit. Gary laughed knowingly. Not much to look at but he’s smart.
As Felicia and I exchanged TTY phone numbers, I suddenly wondered: but what if it’s already shaved?
***
Felicia is bisexual. A weird thing--we Deafies don’t even have a word for it yet, we’re still fingerspelling it. She divorced her husband because he drank. Also, she was starting to realize how she felt about women.
She was married gay-style but her girlfriend was a flirt and also real jealous (this is according to Felicia). Another time she lived with a Hearing -- it was a guy -- but then he lost interest in learning Sign and that was his reason for being with her.
“My son knows,” she says, “because I came out to him when he asked me if I was a lesbian. He suspected because I was so close my girlfriend. Also, because we fought so bitterly. I haven’t come out to Gail yet. Like I said, we haven’t been that close. During her teen-aged years she rebelled by joining one of those religious fanatic churches. Anti-feminist, homophobic -- when she had the TV on PTL or the 700 Club, I used to be glad I was Deaf since I didn’t have to listen to those idiots.”
“Is she still that way?” I asked.
“Oh no. She came to her senses. Gail belongs to a pro-choice group that gets women past the Operation Rescue protesters. I should come out to her, I probably will soon.”
When I explained my fetish to Felicia, she blushed and started laughing. She reassured me that she wasn’t offended -- she’s done tying and spanking before. It was just that she never expected to attract anyone by having so much body hair: “I’ve always been s
elf-conscious about it. I used to torture myself with wax.”
I waited hopefully.
“I’m glad it’s not the hair on my head, Sue,” she continued, “I couldn’t let you have that.”
***
I was wearing stocking and garters and a lacy white teddy -- that’s what she likes -- and I got the stuff together while she undressed: clippers, shaving cream and razor, pan of water, washcloths. I put a fat blue pillow in the middle of the bed and then a beach towel across that.
Naked, Felicia lay on her tummy across the big pillow so her bottom stuck up nicely. She held her head against the regular pillow.
There it was: a jungle of thick black hair down the crack of her ass.
I went to work with the clippers first. She wriggled and I leaned over and warned her, “Stop, you’re going to make me cut you.”
She turned to say “OK” and her elbow hit the pan but luckily didn’t knock it over, just swished the water around.
I started shaving, very carefully, aware of my pussy juice warming. Each time, I rinsed the razor off, then shaved the next segment. Oh, I thought excitedly, she’s got so much hair! I had one cheek shaved, washed, dried; I examined it to make sure -- no stray hairs.
Pausing, I savored the sight of the one cheek so nakedly white against the primitive black brush of the other.
Then I shaved, washed, shaved, until both buns were hairless. My nipples tingled. I kissed her bottom; the skin shivered under my lips. She started playing with herself. Her hips moved from side to side as she masturbated.
I lay on her back, my chin on her shoulders and my pubis moving against her clean bald butt. Felicia’s chest vibrated -- giggling. I moved my legs further apart, trying to catch all the ass I could.
Sniffing the musky oil of her perspiration, I kissed and sucked on her shoulder. We rocked and shimmied and I slid my hands under her chest to play with her breasts. The hard tiny bumps of her nipples reminded me of raspberries.
I pushed and bounced against her ass in excitement. Our legs rubbed together, bearing down and flailing, and tears started hotly in my eyes. I felt her breath speed up. Her bottom swayed slowly and sensuously. My short fingernails dug into her skin as I bounced harder and faster, faster, slowing down, then speeding up, faster and faster until I came against Felicia’s beautiful naked ass.
I kissed the nape of her neck gratefully. There was a pronounced red mark on her shoulder -- I’d given her a hickey. Trying to catch my breath, wiping the perspiration off my forehead, I rolled off of her and she turned on her back.
“Now, it’s my turn,” Felicia said. She drew her knees up and opened her legs.
“Didn’t you already come?” I asked.
“Yes, I did but it was a small orgasm and I want a big one this time,” she said, her hands trembling a little as she talked, “Seconds are usually best for me and I want as good an orgasm as you had, pervert.”
I put my face on her very warm pussy. The clear fluid ran thickly along her lips and gave off a rich, spicy odor.
Her hands caressed above her bush as I gently sucked her clit, then pushed my tongue in her vagina and around her wet lips, slowly and for a long time the way she told me she likes it.
“Kiss my thighs,” she said, “The inner thighs.”
I moved my mouth down to her thighs, kissing the inside of her still-furry thighs. Tufts of curly hair waved under my tongue like tall grasses in a breeze.
Felicia got my attention with a tap by her foot, then said, “Now, eat me, Sue,” and I returned to her hot, open sex. My face was on her pussy licking around--not on--her hard little button when her hips started grinding again, faster but with long pauses.
Her hand nudged the top of my head so I licked inside her cunt. She put her fingers around her clit and she came, a slow wonderful take-your-time shudder--freeze—shudder--wild twist with her cunt throbbing around my tongue.
Afterwards, clinging and slippery, my face still bathed with her love juice, I asked, “Did come good enough this time?”
“I think I was loud enough to make both of us Hear,” she replied. Then we rested together in silence, our hands too tired to talk anymore.
Chapter Two
New Ladies, Clarice, and Me
My relationships have been checkered. See, I get excited by newness. My sexual desire dries up on the familiar.
So...My life’s been a lot of scream fests, furniture tossed around, clothes torn up, that bullshit. But a lot of fun, too, at least when I was young and enjoyed something of a reputation as a dyke Casanova.
But I’m not young anymore. I retired three years ago. You need a relationship when you’re older, you crave security, that comfort, that everyday companionship. Especially when you’re not working, the days drag and the nights are so lonely.
On the other hand, I can’t see myself in the kind of lezzie marriage so many have--the Lesbian Bed Death syndrome where you might as well be roommates. I’m old but I’m horny. You know, like good wine.
I tried an “open” relationship a few years ago. Millie said she “believed” in open love but then for a week afterward we’d be getting into big fights over little things, both of us screaming and swearing but it was really about the other lady.
When it was Millie who was seeing another woman, I was so down I couldn’t stand it. I kept thinking “Aren’t I good enough?” and “I wonder if she’s going to like it better?” I didn’t want to have sex with Millie. I didn’t want to do much of anything.
So that went squash.
Then me and Clarice met at the Paleo-Lesbo Club. Hit it off right away, she was a lifelong queer, retired loan officer for a bank. Clarice is plump, big breasts (I’m kind of a “tit woman”), big waves of auburn hair. She’s got a heart shaped, very expressive face with large blue eyes.
We decided to live together after a few months of dates and weekends.
Discussing our sexual fantasies after a talk show on the subject, Clarice startled me when she said she’d actually done B&D, not just thought about it.
“That’s sick stuff, isn’t it?” I asked uncertainly.
She laughed. “Some people think so but a lot of people still think lesbians are perverted. You know, we hate men, want to be men, are narcissistic--”
“Shut up,” I said lightly.
“Seriously, though, Jane, maybe it is what some people mean by perverted but I do it to add spice to sex. Private theater for horny folks.”
That led to a very lengthy discussion broken up over several days. Like I explained to Clarice, I’d always had these fantasies about spanking but I wasn’t sure I wanted to try it.
Anyway, we did agree on a couple of safe-words just in case we did a spanking scene sometime.
***
I met Jesse at the church where she is the minister. She isn’t a hypocrite, you understand. Clarice and I go to a liberal, seek-the truth-from-all-sources church. Jesse’s sermons are mostly about justice and togetherness, the meaning of personhood vs. the confinement of stereotypes.
Jesse wears her silver hair in a longish shag. A lot of jewelry, lambda symbols and woman symbols. Olive-complexioned with warm brown eyes, slim and flat-chested. Not my favorite type but I was instantly attracted to her.
She doesn’t have a “companion”--(she uses that word instead of lover; however enlightened, she’s still a minister).
When we met at her place she had on dark blue jeans and a Virginia Woolf T-shirt. I got her out of the quick. She left the jewelry on, glittering against her creased brown skin while we made love.
New ladies. I just can’t resist.
***
I had the strangest excited-scared-excited feeling. I would tell Clarice. I didn’t want to “get caught.” Or I wanted to get it over with. To find out one way or another whether we’d stay together after an infidelity of mine. And about the other thing, too.
Spanking. What a strange...
How could you like... ?
When I confessed my try
st to Clarice, she frowned, smiled, frowned, then smiled devilishly and licked her lips. She drew her shoulders up, the stand-up straight of traditional strictness, causing her big breasts to just out like shelf and said, “Haven’t you been a bad girl? Unfaithful?”
“Yeah,” I fell into the scene shyly.
“You just can’t control yourself, can you?” Her hands were on her hips and her sparkling blue eyes narrowed.
I shook my head and whispered, “No.”
“You were unfaithful to me, huh?” She raised an accusing eyebrow and those breasts I adored seemed to quiver with indignation.
I nodded.
“A cheater! A horny little cheater!”
I giggled self-consciously.
“Stop! Are you laughing at me?” she asked menacingly.
“Oh no,” I said.
“And right after you’ve cheated on me, too! Haven’t you been bad, Jane?” she asked, shaking her index finger.
“I guess so.”
“I know so. And you deserve a spanking. Right on your bare bottom,” she declared.
I said nothing, but my face warmed with embarrassment.
“Come here, Jane. Lie here across my knees.”
I hesitated but then moved closer and I let Clarice pull me across her lap.
“Now lift your skirt up. And pull your panties down. Show me your naked ass.”
I pulled my skirt up. My hands went around my panties but I couldn’t pull them down.
“Pull your panties down, you bad girl,” Clarice said, but her voice was soft despite the testy words.
I lowered my underpants, exposing my bottom. Suddenly aware of the foolishness of my childlike position, humiliation flowed over me in a warm, red wave.
“What a lovely ass you have, Jane,” Clarice said. “So round and smooth and white.” Very lightly and very gently she caressed my taut buttocks with her fingertips. “Just like a baby’s, the skin so tender! And so unprotected and naked. What a wonderful bottom to punish.”
My face went hot with embarrassment. Despite my tension, I felt a stirring and moistening in my vagina that kept me from using a safe-word.
Clarice brought the palm of her hand down, slap. I jerked and gasped. Despite the expectation it was a surprise.
