‘How do I look?’ Lucy asked the birthday girl, as she led her back across to the chair.
‘Beautiful,’ said Jenna, sitting down like she was told to, then allowing Lucy to straddle her body. Lucy liked Jenna’s answer. She’d never looked at another woman before and seen such an obvious look of lust in her eyes. Every man she danced for wanted her body, but she’d never expected Jenna to feel the same way.
‘Your friends will love it if you touch me,’ said Lucy, the professional guiding the amateur through the performance.
‘Gladly,’ said Jenna, then she grinned at her pals, before grabbing hold of Lucy’s arse cheeks. As the WPC’s fingers spread out across her buttocks, Lucy reached in the pocket of her gaping blouse. She removed a toy gun, which was filled with chocolate sauce. Lucy leaned back and pushed out her tits, then shot a dollop of sauce on one of her nipples.
Jenna didn’t need any more guidance; her mouth was on Lucy’s nipple in an instant. She swallowed it whole and licked up the chocolate, then gleefully gobbled up even more jug. The audience went crazy, shouting ‘Get a room!’ and calling the performers ‘Lesbo sluts!’ The atmosphere was truly electric, but Lucy still felt able to take it higher.
Lucy squirted some chocolate on her other nipple, then watched as Jenna’s tongue went in hot pursuit. She lapped up every last drop of the delicious sauce, then continued sucking even after the syrup had vanished. Sweet sensations erupted in Lucy’s body, as the lesbian WPC titillated her teats in a way that surprised and even shocked her. The birthday girl’s nerves had completely vanished, to be replaced with an overwhelming confidence. Taking courage from the joyful reaction of her friends, she ran her hands all over Lucy’s body, groping the kissagram’s stockings and suspenders, while flicking her tongue all over her breasts.
Lucy had never lost control of a performance before, but Jenna seemed to be taking charge. Most men get shy when confronted by a beautiful, naked woman in a crowded room, but Jenna was thriving; pretty Jenna was having the time of her life. She grabbed the toy gun from Lucy and squirted some chocolate sauce on Lucy’s lips, then all of a sudden the two girls were kissing. Jenna kissed the chocolate off Lucy’s mouth, then her tongue pressed deep between her lips.
The noise in the room reached fever pitch, as the real WPC kissed the saucy one. Lucy had never known a customer to react so boldly before, and there was nothing she could do to stop herself melting in the young woman’s arms. There was something in the way that Jenna had sucked her nipples that excited Lucy beyond all measure. The chocolate routine was usually so clumsy, so awkward, with some petrified man licking gingerly at her teats and just wanting the whole thing over as fast as possible. But playful, passionate, adventurous Jenna didn’t seem to want the routine ever to end. And she hadn’t just gobbled up the chocolate sauce; she’d kissed, licked and sucked Lucy’s swollen nipples as if the two of them were long-term lovers making out in a private room.
Lucy could still feel her nipples tingling, even now that Jenna was kissing her lips. She’d lost it for a moment, but she had to reassert control. She was meant to be the professional performer and she couldn’t allow herself to be overawed just because she was dancing for a woman, not a man. Her act normally climaxed with a split-second flash of pussy, so she extricated herself from Jenna’s embrace and tried to get things back on track. She placed a hand on the front of her knickers and thrust her crotch into Jenna’s face. On the final beat of music, she would rip off the silk. But something distracted her – her knickers were wet!
For the first time ever, Lucy missed her cue, tugging off her knickers a second too late. The Velcro strips came apart as planned, but the scent of cuntjuice rising from her gash wasn’t something she’d expected at all. Neither was Jenna’s cheeky reaction. Instinctively, the WPC squirted a dollop of chocolate sauce between Lucy’s thighs.
‘You are a bad girl,’ Lucy said, as the audience roared its approval.
‘I know,’ said Jenna, already leaning forward. She stuck out her tongue and touched the sauce on Lucy’s clit. Lucy heard herself gasp, as a clitoral spasm sent a feel-good sensation coursing through her veins. Jenna had licked her so softly, so gently, giving promise of something, intriguing her, arousing her.
Normally Lucy couldn’t wait for her act to end, but for once she was sad to hear the music stop and the ovation start. As she and Jenna took their bows before the delirious audience, Lucy sensed that this had been a missed opportunity. Dancing for women had been special for her. Her nipples had been licked many times before, both onstage and off, but not even her favourite boyfriends had shown such a delicate, sensuous oral touch as Jenna. Gazing out at the crowd of cheering lesbians, she suddenly realised why. Of course, only another woman could ever really know how to satisfy a female erogenous zone. After all, she’d sucked many cocks in her life, but she’d never had a cock, so she could only guess what would feel nice. But Lucy knew what she liked having done to her pussy, so she’d know how to pleasure another girl, just as Jenna would know how to pleasure her.
‘Happy birthday!’ Lucy told Jenna, giving her a final kiss on the cheek. Both girls were still buzzing from the thrill of the performance, and from the delighted reaction of the crowd, which seemed to show no sign of abating. Everyone seemed to want the moment to last for ever, as if they all knew it was the high-point of the evening, and the rest would be just an anti-climax. And no one felt that more than Lucy. As she hurried off to the ladies to change, she felt an overwhelming sadness that she’d not been able to finish what she’d started.
A wistful Lucy could still hear the cheering, as she stood before the mirror re-doing her make up. She felt pleased that she’d shown everybody such a good time, but it was Jenna’s surprise reappearance that really lifted her spirits. The WPC came bursting into the ladies, lifting off her dress, as she walked over to Lucy. She led the kissagram into a vacant cubicle, then dropped straight down on to her knees.
‘I think I might have missed some chocolate sauce,’ said Jenna, pressing her face between Lucy’s thighs. Her lips formed a circle around Lucy’s clit, then her tongue started stimulating the sensitive nub. Lucy gazed down at the gorgeous woman kneeling down before her, happy and relieved to have her back again. She placed her hands on top of Jenna’s head, holding her face against her cunt. This time she wasn’t going to let the birthday girl escape so easily. This time Jenna was going to keep on licking until Lucy had experienced the orgasm she so desperately craved.
‘Make me come,’ Lucy whispered, then she bucked her pelvis forward. Jenna’s mouth slid through folds of soft pink skin, till her lips were circling the kissagram’s orifice. She thrust her tongue forward, entering the sticky hole, then slapped her hands against Lucy’s buttocks. As her fingers dug into the toned, tanned cheeks, Jenna began to pump her tongue back and forward.
Jenna’s clitoral licks had been soft and tender, but the taste of Lucy’s pussy seemed to bring out the beast in her. Lucy’s orifice was tight, but Jenna wouldn’t be beaten. She jammed her tongue through the tensed up muscles, her forceful licks making Lucy squeal. Again and again, she pushed her tongue back and forward, desperate to feel the first orgasmic pulsation rippling through Lucy’s muscles. She could already smell and taste the sex-juice, as well as hear the squeals, so she knew Lucy’s orgasm was fast approaching. All that was missing was the first big pulse, so she drove her tongue forward as hard as she could.
Lucy let out a high-pitched moan, as her cunt muscles parted to receive Jenna’s tongue. She felt her knees start to buckle, so she released her grip on Jenna’s head. She pressed her hands against the sides of the toilet cubicle, steadying herself against the wooden walls. A huge wave of sexual pressure was pulsing through her pussy muscles, causing her insides to spasm around Jenna’s tongue, which was two-inches deep inside her hole. A massive orgasm was welling up inside her, ready to burst out at any moment. She wanted it to happen, but her body was demanding further stimulation. Like a sneeze that continually wr
inkles the nose but doesn’t quite come, her orgasm left her standing on the precipice.
Jenna pulled her tongue out of Lucy’s pussy and looked up into the kissagram’s face. She could see the frenzied sexual tension in her eyes; the about-to-burst feeling in her flushed pink features. Sliding her hands up Lucy’s body, she reached her pert, curvaceous jugs. Her fingers tightened around Lucy’s nipples, then her tongue sprang back into action. It slid over Lucy’s orifice, en route to her clit, where just one lick was enough to make it happen.
Lucy beat her hands against the cubicle walls, as a clitoral spasm re-ignited the wild pulsations between her legs. Another wave of tension went shooting through her pussy muscles. Another quickly followed, accompanied by a sudden outpouring of syrupy juice. Lucy started screaming, just as Jenna started licking. Suddenly, her tongue was everywhere, lapping up the streams of come with obvious enjoyment. Jenna’s passionate licks served to heighten what was already the biggest orgasm of the kissagram’s life. She stared down at the WPC, unable to believe that another woman was capable of making her feel so good.
‘Kiss me now,’ said Lucy, helping the WPC back up to her feet. Their lips came together, but not for long, because Lucy wanted to return the favour. She leaned down and started kissing Jenna’s breasts, but Jenna just pushed her down to her knees. Her purple thong was wet with juice. Lucy tugged it aside, then licked Jenna’s cunt.
‘Now you make me come,’ Jenna said, as Lucy zeroed in on her clit. She planted six wet kisses on the sticky-out stub, then opened wide and licked it hard. The WPC started groaning immediately, like she was almost ready to climax. She must have really loved the taste of my fanny , thought Lucy, as she placed a hand on Jenna’s gash. Her finger pushed between two moist lips, then carefully slotted deep inside.
Jenna’s sex was full of tension; Lucy could feel it straight away. The muscles were gripping skin-tight to her finger, which she pushed back and forward, while licking Jenna’s clit. Lucy smiled as she detected the first real hard convulsion, reminding her of her recent climax. Wanting to feel that same intensity again, she jumped back to her feet and parted her thighs.
Lucy kept her finger in Jenna’s pussy, and the WPC responded in kind. Their bodies pressed together, their breasts and mouths meeting, as they finger-fucked each other’s cunts. After a matter of seconds, Lucy felt her earlier orgasm coming back to the boil, but it was Jenna who pulled her lips away from Lucy’s and was first to yell with orgasmic delight. She spasmed hard around Lucy’s finger, her juices gushing into the palm of the kissagram’s hand. Lucy’s response was instant – just feeling Jenna’s climax was enough to bring her back to the glorious orgasmic heights of moments ago.
The two women yelled the sexual tension out of their bodies, then with the screaming over, they could kiss once more. Their lips tasted of pussy, a familiar taste to Jenna, but a new one to Lucy, and one that she’d quickly learned to like. Dancing for women had been different for her, and so had making love to one – different, exciting and wholly fulfilling. There’d be many more men for her to dance for in the future, but Lucy hoped, in fact, she couldn’t wait, to dance for women again.
Plain Jane
by J. Carron
I laid the advert on my knees and looked around at my fellow guinea pigs. Piggie we all were one way and another. Right little hogs. I’d never been a beauty, not like my sister. I had the brains. She had the cute stuff – long legs, button nose and pert breasts.
Of the girls in this room, there wasn’t a button nose among us. Plain. A rotten word to describe a poor defenceless female. Plain I was though, and I knew it. Cruelly, this waiting room had a whacking great mirror in it. It wasn’t one of those discreet ‘just-checking-my-lipstick’ mirrors. It was flipping huge. More of a look-at-your-ugly-mug mirror. I’d never had need of the lipstick mirrors because I’d never worn the stuff. Just like I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to a hairdresser. I realised a long time ago that painting and preening my sad features was time wasted. What I was born with I was stuck with. Acceptance was my mantra, not camouflage. Until now, that is.
I looked at the advert again. ‘Women Wanted for Clinical Trial.’ The payment was good and the letter I’d received inviting me to this first session was intriguing. Are you attractive to men? It asked. I scratched an inky black cross in the ‘no’ box there. Do you have difficulty finding a partner? Yes sirree, you betcha. A couple of sad fumblings at university parties summed up my adventures with men. As soon as they saw me outside in the light, any half good-looking ones suddenly found urgent reasons to get home. And they must have lost the telephone number I pressed desperately in their palms because none of them phoned. Only twice had I ever been taken back to a fellow student’s bedroom. One was so drunk I practically had to carry him. The resulting coupling (yes, there was one) was like life. Nasty, brutish and short.
‘Can you all please come in now?’ The nurse in the white coat swished open the door to a small lecture theatre and twenty unlovely women took their seats. I won’t bore you with the science because pheromones aren’t my thing. But basically the drug we would be testing, if we decided to go ahead, worked on the principle of butterfly lust. Sorry, have I lost you? Well, they lost me at one point but I did grasp from the cartoon diagrams that butterflies exude some sort of scent which drives the opposite sex to distraction. Yes thanks. I was twenty-nine and I’d like some of that. Correction. Lots of it.
The next stage was each of us entering a cubicle with a doc who questioned us on everything from how many sexual partners we’d had to our diet and lifestyle. Mine checked out as Miss Lonely. Work, more work and nights at home with a packet of Doritos. The doctor then checked through the blood and other samples we had provided weeks ago. At the end, he gave a triumphant smile and told me I was just the sort of saddo they were looking for. It was then he handed me the magic bottle. Blue pills. I was to take one a day, before breakfast, and record on the datasheet my experiences. Then I must report back to this office at the date he marked on the front. Maybe I imagined it, but I thought he gave me a wink as he wished me luck and assured me I’d notice an upturn in my ‘activities’.
It was well after breakfast, but I had nothing to lose. I’ve never been a conformist, so I broke the rules and shoved in one of those little blue beauties straight away. As I went to bed at the end of the day I felt extraordinarily rested, more relaxed than I had for some time. The next morning, curious to see whether anything had changed, I went into town and had my second pill washed down with a cup of cappuccino sitting on a squishy leather sofa in the high street coffee shop. I sat by the window and watched men passing. Wouldn’t it be heaven to have any one I wanted? Like a skinny woman in a patisserie I became choosy. If this experiment worked, I wouldn’t have to take any old specimen sporting a limp dick and a weak chat line. I’d be the one choosing.
As I watched geeks, ghouls and I-love-myself-in-these-jeans specimens of the male gender mooching past, I crossed them scornfully off my mental list. Then I clocked, standing with a clipboard, one of those guys who try to get you interested in giving to charity. I sat up. Here was a dream come true. All those guys are out of work actors or models, that’s what makes them happy to approach strangers and chat them up just to extract cash. It also happens to put them tops on the gorgeous guy scale.
Here was a top-drawer testosterone dispenser in seriously stylish packaging. A head above the other men on the street, his face was squarish, framed with understated sideburns and peppered with stubble. Streaky blonde hair, dishevelled and not unclean, made him look as if he had just got up from a night’s torrid lovemaking. In repose, he looked slightly snooty as if he was above all this. But when he made his choice of victim and zeroed in on (I noted) a pretty girl, his blue grey eyes lit up and the dimple on his chin dispersed in a widening smile. It may have been something to do with taking that pill, but as I absently spooned bitter cappuccino foam into my mouth I began to feel disgustingly horny.
I
knew it was ridiculous to think it would work that quickly, but paracetamols did, why not this? I wished I could have checked my pasty face in a handbag mirror but I didn’t possess one. Still, this was more a recce than a fully armoured assault with combat gear. Downing my coffee, and gathering my handbag, I paid, hearing the comforting rattle of those little blue pills. Once outside on the street, I wondered where those pheromones would appear. Would I breathe them out or would they exude from my skin like scented oil?
I watched my prey as he combed his fingers through a mop of hair, nonchalantly collapsing it back onto his forehead while he listened to the girl and scribbled on his clipboard. I imagined his hands cupping the back of my head, and a feeling shot through my stomach like I was going down in a fast lift. Then, horrors, he looked up and our pupils locked. Instead of turning away embarrassed as I would have done in the past when I thought I had no chance, I found myself staring back. Then, most unlike the old me, my brazen lips edged upwards into a smile. Mr Cool responded with a raised eyebrow. My heart tap danced. Then, after pausing longingly, he turned and reluctantly went back to his interviewee.
I let out the breath I had been holding. This was power. I had experienced it at work. But never, ever with men. I turned and drifted thoughtfully off through the shoppers. Remember that old song about walking down this street before but the pavement always staying beneath your feet until… Well this was my moment of revelation. I was suddenly jet propelled with new hope. Observing in a way I had never done before, I looked at men and women as they floated past. The attractive ones had a sex-filled swagger. It came in their walk, the way they held their heads up, the way they tossed their hair. They believed in themselves. They had it in spadefuls and I couldn’t even muster a teaspoonful.
Five Minute Fantasies 2 Page 3
