by Radclyffe
Paige looked from me to Allison expectantly, gleeful anticipation brimming in her eyes. I listened intently. I knew this song. Paige had been right. It was kind of old. And it would be fun to dance to. I glanced at Rico, who shrugged.
“I’m game if you are,” he said.
I held out my glass to Allison. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” She was smiling at me in a way that made me faintly dizzy.
“Wait till you see this,” I heard Paige exclaim. “My God, I just want to jump them both when they do this.”
My eyes widened, and I glanced back over my shoulder to see Allison torn between laughter and intrigue. I shook my head and stepped into Rico’s waiting arms. We paused a moment, getting the beat of the song before we moved. I felt the muscles in his arms tense, and instantly I realized what part of the song was coming and what he was about to do.
“Dump me on my ass, and I’ll pistol whip you,” I promised.
Rico just laughed. And then I was spinning, one revolution for each count the singer made. I’d caught on to his intentions just in time, too. If I hadn’t been prepared for that, my legs would have tangled, and I would have gone down, probably taking him with me. Gutsy move on his part. I was a tad unsteady in heels this high as it was.
I forced myself to block out everything—the lights, the setting, the guys, the fact that I could practically feel Allison’s hot gaze on my skin—and just concentrate on the beat and Rico. It didn’t take long to get caught up in our familiar rhythm. The rest of the world just faded away as we moved together, and I caught myself grinning.
Rico met my eyes, and he echoed my smile before turning me again. It had been far too long since I’d been out dancing, and I had somehow forgotten how much fun it was. I made a mental note to make sure to ask Rico and Paige to go out again soon and counted myself lucky that Paige couldn’t dance like this and didn’t mind lending me her husband once in a while.
The song was over much too soon. Rico lifted me into his arms and spun me around as the last chords of the music faded away. The five or six guys from work who were still left in the bar broke into spontaneous applause, and Rico and I made a big show of bowing to the crowd. I laughed right along with him as we stumbled, beaming and a little breathless, back over to Allison and Paige.
Paige’s grin stretched from ear to ear and her glassy eyes sparkled. “That was great, you guys.” She nudged Allison. “Weren’t they great?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she wrapped her arms around Rico and folded him in an exuberant hug.
Allison was staring at me, something not unlike shock painted across the planes of her face. I frowned at her, puzzled.
“What?”
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
I shrugged and glanced away, embarrassed. I wasn’t quite sure whether she was complimenting me or criticizing, so I opted to keep quiet.
“Have you always been able to do that?”
“For as long as I can remember.”
“I’ve never seen you do that before.”
“Well, no, you wouldn’t have.”
She waited for me to look at her before she spoke. “It was very hot.”
A sharp stab of desire cut straight through me at the heat in her tone. “It’s even hotter when I do it with someone I’m actually attracted to.”
She was quiet for a long moment and something intense and almost primitive flickered in her eyes. “Could you teach me?”
“Definitely.” I listened to the song that was currently playing. Nope. This wouldn’t work. The beat wasn’t right, and I wasn’t quite able to move against it. It would be too difficult. Too distracting. I’d feel compelled to try to make my motions go with the tempo. Maybe the next one.
“Let’s go.” Allison’s voice held more than a hint of a command, and underneath there was a slim thread of passion.
I shook my head. “Not now.”
Allison’s expression was awash with something not unlike hurt. She set her jaw. “Okay.”
Unthinkingly, I rested one hand on her bare forearm. “I’m not a very good lead. I haven’t had that much practice at it.” I sketched a vague gesture in the air, indicating the song that was playing. “I won’t be able to dance to this, let alone teach anyone else how to. I’m not proficient enough to ignore the beat. Rico might be able to do it, but if you want me, we’ll have to wait for another song.”
Realization dawned on Allison’s face followed by a tender sort of smile.
“No, I meant let’s leave.”
“Oh.” A pause. “I thought you wanted me to teach you to dance.”
When Allison shook her head, I was mesmerized by the sway of her dark hair brushing the tops of her bare shoulders. “I do. But not here.”
I colored, chastising myself for forgetting that we had an audience, as was so often the case when I was in her presence. She wouldn’t want them to see us doing something as intimate as dancing. She was right, of course. There was no need to fuel their fantasies. Besides, there was no guarantee that after five seconds of moving with her in my arms while she was staring at me with that hungry look on her face, I wouldn’t ravage her on the spot, audience and probable jail time be damned.
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” I hesitated for a second, thinking, and then it hit me what she’d just said. She wanted us to leave. Together.
I gaped at her. Her blatant desire confused me. Even when we’d been a couple, she’d never wanted anyone to see us leaving a party together. We’d always had to leave separately with at least thirty minutes between our departure times, regardless of the fact that we were going to end up spending the night in each other’s arms. I hesitated, not wanting to make the wrong assumption.
Allison smiled at me again, probably reading my uncertainty loud and clear, and extended a hand to me. Tentatively, I reached out and took it. One night wouldn’t be enough, but it might be a new beginning. She threaded her fingers through mine and started to pull me toward the door. I stopped her with a light tug, and she turned around, her expression part bewilderment and part irritation. I squeezed her hand.
“Just give me a second to say good-bye to Rico and Paige.”
Relief flickered in Allison’s eyes, and she nodded once.
I hurriedly said my good-byes and floated back over to Allison, heart pounding and a flutter of nervousness tickling my insides.
Tenderness blossomed on Allison’s gorgeous face as she looked at me and once again offered me her hand. She always could read me better than anyone on the planet, which could be a blessing or a curse, depending on the situation. Tonight it was definitely the former. I smiled at her as I took her hand and allowed her to lead me out the door and into the night.
COOLING DOWN, HEATING UP
Dena Hankins
I use the ribbed cotton of my tank top to dry the skin under my tits. A bra would soak up some of the sweat, but I can’t bear one thread more than the top and my underwear. I’m sitting on the floor, leaning against the fieldstone fireplace in our 180-year-old farmhouse. Never thought the fireplace would be the spot in the house.
The fan squeaks a bit, way up in the high ceiling. I’ll have to fix that when it’s not a million degrees. The blades pour humid air over me like a warm river.
Hennie’s flushed, lying flat on her back in a cotton slip she made herself. It’s got thin lines of lace, top and bottom, and she scratches at her thigh where the lace tickles. She wiggles within reach, hunting a cooler spot on the wooden floor, and I poke her hip with my big toe. She groans. “I love you, sweetheart. Don’t touch me.”
I laugh.
The hills outside Chapel Hill, North Carolina, sport more than one lovely old house. Ours has little in the way of grounds—the fields had been sold long before we came around. We’ve owned it three years now, moved in on our eighth anniversary. Still getting bruised and blistered working on it, but that’s just part of owning an old home. Our bedroom is straight out of the nineteenth century, except we made the
dressing room into a bathroom. We updated the kitchen but left the cupboards. The old plumbing complains and we replace what we have to.
Mostly, we restore what we can and live without plenty. Like air-conditioning.
“Hennie, I think it’s time.”
My lover smiles without opening her eyes. “Gettin’ itchy?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Hennie sits up with a whoosh and blinks like she’s lightheaded. Her slip’s wet where she was lying on it. Her tits are bare under the thin cotton and her nipples are soft, nearly flat in the heat. “Want to make reservations or pack?”
I lever myself to my feet and wish I hadn’t. “I’ll pack.”
Hennie laughs. “You’re sweet, but I was joking. Get on the computer and I’ll put together an overnight bag.”
I lean over and give Hennie my hand. We both groan at the sticky feeling as I pull her upright. Pressing my lips to hers without touching anywhere else, I mumble against her mouth, “You’re the one for me.”
“I’d better be.” Her grumpy tone makes me smile and she pulls away. Slogging through the dank air, she heads up the stairs to our bedroom on the second floor. Her voice fades as she gripes, “I still say we should have a summer bedroom downstairs. We can put a bed in the piano parlor and…”
My face settles into the expression Hennie calls “mulish.” I consider that an insult and refuse to cop to it. I love our bedroom and won’t give it up for anything. A smile breaks through. Actually, I will give it up tonight for that most modern of conveniences.
We’re driving away less than an hour later and pull up to the chain motel a half hour after that. After checking in, we drive around the back and park in front of the door to our room for the night.
Hennie slides the key card into the reader and shoves against the seal made by the weather stripping. She gasps and calls out, “It’s already cold in here!” The delight in her voice is worth the sixty dollars we just dropped.
Holding the bag, I lock the car doors and follow her into the room. The temperature drops at the door and I shiver hard. Hennie’s inspecting the room—opening drawers, checking out the bathroom. Reminds me of a dog sniffing new territory when she does that, though I’d never make the mistake of saying so. She starts the shower and yells, “Good pressure.”
The shower doesn’t stop. She must have decided to jump right in. Would she want something to wear afterward? I’ll probably ruin a surprise if I open the bag, so I decide against getting clothes out for her. Maybe we won’t wear anything until it’s time to check out.
Water hits the wall and the shower curtain, the sound modulating as she moves. I picture her turning under the spray, cupping her hands and letting the cool water overflow down her chest.
I can’t stay all sticky while she’s getting so clean.
Down with my shorts, off with my underwear. The tank top droops, heavy with my sweat, and the chilling fabric draws another shiver from me as I pull it over my head. Damn. The cold is almost as uncomfortable as the heat.
In the cold, though, we can get close.
I push open the door to the little bathroom and it stops against the shower/tub combo. Hennie’s slip is limp on the floor and I catch my first sight of her in the vanity mirror across from the shower.
Her deep curves make my insides tighten. Through the translucent plastic shower curtain, she has the mysterious proportions of a goddess. Her heavy hips and solid thighs taper to strong calves and small feet, while above…ah, above.
Hennie’s breasts curve away from her ribs, lower than they were when we first stripped for one another. We attacked each other that night with the lights out. Not for shyness, but because we were in such a hurry that we forgot to turn them on.
Since then, Hennie has put on thirty, maybe forty pounds. Her breasts are heavier, her ass more padded. Her waist still has that delicious curve and her face barely shows a difference, but she looks so much more womanly to me. As a girl, she charmed me. Now I am devoted to the woman she’s become.
Physically, I’ve always been a tit woman. I love a shapely ass, but it’s big, soft tits that catch my attention when I’m supposed to be driving. When I’m shopping for groceries. When I’m ordering a meal. I love large, pillowy breasts.
Hennie’s were unreal when we met—high and too firm to make deep cleavage. In my opinion, they’ve gotten better. They’ve softened, gained a deeper under-curve and, in the right bra, they push together for some jaw-dropping cleavage. It’s not just me—everyone notices.
“Are you coming in or are you going to stare all night?”
I grin. “I’m doing more than staring tonight. It’s been two weeks since it’s been cool enough to lick your pussy, let alone fuck you.” I push the curtain back and our eyes meet. “How’s the shower?”
My pussy thumps when she steps sideways, letting the water sluice over her tits. “Invigorating.”
“Just what I wanted to hear.”
“Come on in, then.”
The sultry look she gives me is hotter than the weather outside our motel room. I step over the lip of the tub and take the motel soap from her hands. She turns away while I build up a good froth. Reaching out, I slick my hands across her shoulders and sigh.
My libido doesn’t disappear, but the familiar happiness of touching Hennie—scratching her back lightly, gripping the muscles of her shoulders and squeezing them in my hands—this overwhelms my lust with tenderness. We have time to be fierce with one another. First I just want to get close.
Hennie hums and tips her head back when I slide up behind her. Shower spray wets my front and I bring my tits and belly up against her soapy back. I slide my arms around her waist and fold her close.
My love likes to pretend that I am the horndog in the relationship, but she’s the one who starts sliding her ass on my thighs. She’s the one who lifts my hands to cup her tits and grabs the back of my neck over her shoulder. She acts like I’m the one who gets itchy and needy, but Hennie’s desire burns and demands, where mine tends to glow. If I’m an ocean swell, she’s that wave from The Perfect Storm.
“I love you,” I breathe in her ear. I nibble the outer curve and suck her earlobe between my teeth. Moments like this, I’m glad I’m taller than she is. I can see her tits mounded in my palms while I run my teeth down the muscle in her neck. The taste of cheap soap makes my nose wrinkle and I let the shower rinse my mouth.
I focus on her nipples. Hennie says they’re not very sensitive, but to me, they’re perfect. She can take a lot of sensation. I like tugging on them hard, twisting them, gnawing and sucking. It sends me over the edge to have them in my mouth, and some of our strangest sex positions have resulted from my desire for Hennie’s tits.
She asked me once what I’d do if she got breast cancer and had them chopped off. I teared up and she got pissed before I could pull it together. I wasn’t crying over some damn breast tissue, though. I freak out when she gets a splinter. I don’t know how I’d handle a major illness like cancer. Can’t stand to think about it. I hope we age well and die together in our sleep.
Hennie must feel my change of mood, me thinking about sickness and old age, because she turns in my arms and hugs me tight. She slides a hand into my spiky hair and pulls my head down to her shoulder. I squeeze her and marvel at the complicated swell of emotion—desperate love, warm affection, a hint of future sadness born of my need for her. Under all that, though, the slippery body of my lover stokes my lust.
“Finish your shower, but don’t come out until you holler.” Hennie gives the order, knowing I’ll bristle at her tone and get excited at the same time. She turns around under the spray for a final rinse and steps out.
I soap up and let the water run over me, warm water over cool skin. Been taking cold showers for a couple months, and a warm shower is a strange treat. Cold feels good, don’t mistake me, but it don’t relax a body.
I scrub my body dry—Hennie tells me to pat, but I like the scratching—and tug the locks over my e
yebrows into a disarray that I hope is sexy.
“Ready for me, honey?” I’m turning the doorknob as I yell.
“Come and get it,” my lover growls.
I step out of the bathroom and suck in a breath. My turn, is it?
Hennie stands in front of the heavy drapes, stroking the dark blue dildo in her harness. The straps follow the curve of her hips. Her hair curls around the edges of the backing pad and her belly swells gently above. The dildo is long and not very wide. I raise an eyebrow and meet her challenging look. “It’s been a while,” I say, by way of a warning.
“I’m feeling patient. It’s not the only dildo I brought, though.”
We have a few dildos we use in our harnesses. She’s wearing the one we use for butt-play, and I turn my attention to my body. Clenching my sphincters and releasing them, I feel good—clean and clear, warming up to the idea of getting fucked. It’s not my usual role, but Hennie’s excited and that decides me.
“Let’s see how it goes.”
Hennie sends me her sly “got what I wanted” smile. We meet at the foot of the bed and push close, kissing deeply and squeezing the dildo between our bellies. I press the sides of her breasts with my upper arms while stroking my hands along the waist strap of the harness.
Hennie strokes my neck and shoulders, pressing her thumbs along my collarbones. I pull away and she gives me a little push so I land on the bed, on top of the damp towel she laid out from her shower. I catch myself, half-reclined with my hands braced on the bed behind me, and Hennie attacks.
My elbows fold under her weight and my breathing stops altogether with her nipple in my mouth. She thrusts the dildo against my belly, straddling me, giving me the writhing armful that gets me hot. She knows the buttons and she’s pushing them all as though we’re going for a quickie in a park. I reach down, but the bulk of her gorgeous ass prevents me from finding her cunt from behind.
