The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotic Stories

by Barbara Cardy

  “Well, then, what are you?”

  “Your slut, ma’am,” she said, and she knew even as she said it that it wasn’t loud enough. She could already feel the wooden hairbrush cracking over her reddened flesh and she dropped to her knees in front of Valentine, wrapping her arms pleadingly around the other woman’s hips.

  “Oh please,” she said brokenly. “I’m your slut, I swear, I am, I’m your slut.”

  Valentine’s hand caressed Tanya’s hair and she made a shushing noise. “Oh, you good, good girl,” she cooed. “That’s wonderful. You’re wonderful . . .”

  Tanya clung to Valentine’s lean body, nearly sobbing. It felt so good to hear those words of praise, but she knew that it wouldn’t necessarily matter. Valentine could, would and had blistered Tanya’s ass while saying those very words and Tanya flinched when the other woman reached down to touch her hot flesh

  “Oh, that wasn’t so bad,” Valentine said. “You’re barely red.”

  Valentine stroked the abused skin gently, rubbing in gentle circles that made Tanya whimper with gratitude.

  Valentine pushed her to her elbows and knees, her bare rear high in the air and her legs slightly spread. Now that she had calmed from the assault, Tanya could feel how damp she was, the wetness running down between her thighs.

  Whether she could say it or not, she knew exactly what she was, and she stifled a groan when Valentine investigated the wetness with a gentle, inquisitive finger. That groan turned into a sigh when Valentine spread her damp folds apart, stroking the slick pink flesh.

  “That’s a pretty girl,” Valentine said approvingly. “That’s beautiful.”

  “Val,” Tanya said, her voice small. No “ma’am” now, not when she wanted something so badly, and Valentine touched Tanya’s shoulder to let her know she was heard.

  “Val, I want . . . I want your fingers . . . inside, please.”

  Valentine chuckled softly at Tanya’s request, uttered so primly and she stroked Tanya’s back, from shoulders down to her sore buttocks.

  “OK,” she said softly, and Tanya warmed at the love in her voice.

  Valentine pressed one finger slowly into Tanya’s cunt, making Tanya push her hips higher even as she moaned into the carpet. She started stroking her finger in and out, teasing at first before pumping in earnest and turning Tanya’s groan into a high whine.

  Two and then three fingers were added in rapid succession, and soon Valentine was fucking her hard, making Tanya brace herself against the floor and thrust back with her hips. She could hear the sounds as Valentine pushed her fingers in and then Valentine was bending over Tanya’s body, putting her lips right next to Tanya’s ear.

  “Use your fingers, darling,” Valentine whispered. “I want you to work that cute little clit of yours until it hurts.”

  Tanya instantly shifted to slide her hand between her legs, finding her clit and rubbing it hard. She could feel how wet she was, and how soft the motion of Valentine’s fingers driving into her, fucking her.

  Her climax made her whole body convulse, it seemed, around Valentine’s fingers. She heard Valentine’s pleased laugh and then she fell over bonelessly on her side, Val’s fingers slipping easily out of her. Her body felt wrung out, and she could hear her own ragged breaths in the still air.

  Some timeless moment later, she looked up to see Valentine licking her own fingers, smiling like a cat with cream.

  “You’re delicious, darling,” Valentine said warmly, and then she spread her legs and reached out to grab a fistful of Tanya’s hair. Tanya went willingly and she lay flat on her stomach between Valentine’s legs. She could smell Valentine’s wild musky scent, and she gratefully buried her face in Valentine’s lightly furred cunt, spreading her lips with fingers that still shook from her own orgasm.

  Valentine lay back on the floor, one hand carelessly clenched in Tanya’s hair. Tanya could raise her eyes to look up at her lover’s flat belly, and small, perfectly made breasts, up to a face that was contorted with desire.

  Me, I did that, Tanya thought with delight, and she felt another pulse of heat from between her legs.

  She applied the flat of her tongue to Valentine’s clit, lapping like a cat until the other woman was moaning and writhing. When Valentine’s hand was grasping her hair tightly, Tanya licked harder, her face growing wet with Valentine’s arousal.

  Valentine dug her heels into the ground, pushing her face up to Tanya’s mouth and Tanya could feel the fine tremors that shook Valentine’s legs. Small breathy gasps escaped Valentine’s mouth and her body began to jerk as Tanya licked with more force, burying her face deep between Valentine’s legs.

  “Oh, you’re beautiful,” Valentine moaned, and her body locked up, holding Tanya’s face to her flesh even as she shook hard with the strength of her climax. Her back arched, and every muscle in her long beautiful legs tensed, shook and finally relaxed.

  Tanya gently licked at her lover’s cunt, partly because she loved the taste, partly because it pleased her to be so gentle while Valentine’s breath was still ragged.

  After a long moment, Valentine tugged Tanya’s hair again, bringing her up to rest alongside her.

  “Look at this,” Valentine said softly, touching the wetness on Tanya’s face. “Where’s my shy girl now, hmm?”

  Tanya laughed, ducking her face against Valentine’s shoulder. “Right here,” she whispered. “I’m right here.”

  THE CHASE

  Chris Westlake

  The beautiful countryside instantly became a tangled blur of green and yellow as the train progressed at a rapid pace. Carriage four was deserted but for two passengers, two strangers who spoke no words. Only, one of the strangers had her legs spread wide; her frilly white panties pulled to one side. Two fingers – wonderful, magical fingers – had been inserted inside her throbbing sex. The fingers were not her own; they belonged to the second stranger. The women stared at each other open-mouthed as the fingers thrust back and forth. The train passed a station, but it did not stop. Carriage four shook. The passengers shook. The vibrations of the train only helped push the girl over the edge. Her knees trembled, her knuckles tightened, her breathing became an uncontrollable pant. It was the first and last time that she would reach an orgasm while travelling home on the 16.22.

  The four girls were twenty-two. There were a few raised eyebrows when they booked a break on a luxury campsite in the peaceful surroundings of the Dordogne. Their last holiday had been a booze-fuelled party extravaganza in Ibiza. It had been wild, and it had been messy. This holiday promised to be the epitome of quiet and relaxation. Jennifer just hoped that this would not equate to boring.

  It was four o’clock in the afternoon. The girls sat by the pool drinking cocktails. The intensity of the sun was beginning to fade. There were a few other young groups drinking. One of the girls – from a French group – had already caught Jennifer’s attention.

  “Don’t know who she thinks she is,” Amy chided, raising her sculpted eyebrows.

  “She’s hardly got the figure to pull off that outfit,” Sara eagerly added.

  “Don’t fancy our competition much,” Anna bitched, stifling a laugh.

  Jennifer kept quiet. She fancied it. Not in the same way, though. Her three friends had no reason to suspect her sexual inclinations. Even she had been a little confused for a long time. That was until the train journey six months earlier. Now, there was no doubt whatsoever. She knew that she positively craved – yearned for – pussy.

  They always sat opposite each other on the journey home, politely smiled, but never spoke. The train was usually busy for the first few stops. Then, more passengers got off than on. The first thing Jennifer noticed was her legs. They were long, shapely and always clad in black tights. The high heels probably made them look just that little bit longer, that little more mesmerizing. Jennifer discreetly eyed them over her book when they crossed and uncrossed. The woman was probably in her mid thirties. Long hair flowed all the way down to the dark tunnel of
her cleavage.

  That Bank Holiday Friday, they were the last two passengers in the carriage. Jennifer knew that the woman was looking at her. There was a wicked, mischievous smile on her face that she had never seen before. Jennifer maintained eye contact and dared not look away. The train went under a tunnel. It was only fifteen seconds. The lights in the carriage were not on. It went pitch black. By the time that the train came out the other side, the lady had moved away from her seat. Her hands were inside Jennifer’s lacy bra, kneading and massaging her dark nipples. Her lips pressed against her mouth, softly kissing. The tongue had deftly darted inside. Within seconds, the fingers were inside her drenched panties, penetrating and fucking. Within minutes – as the train passed the next station – Jennifer was trembling as she reached a shattering orgasm.

  She never saw the woman on the train again. However, for Jennifer, it was just the beginning.

  Now, she watched as the young French girl played to her male admirers. One of them made a comment. She pulled back her head and laughed. It was a deep, husky laugh. She was not stick thin like Jennifer’s friends, but curvy and fuller-figured. The little white shorts displayed her fleshy olive thighs. Her midriff was exposed; there was a ring through her belly button. The girl kissed one of the men on both cheeks. She looked flirtatious and playful. Jennifer caught her eye for a moment. She smiled. It was a warm, full, infectious smile. Jennifer flushed crimson.

  “Think you pulled there,” Anna laughed, nudging Jennifer’s arm.

  “Don’t know about fancying the competition, but I think our competition fancies you,” Sara teased.

  The smile played on Jennifer’s mind all night. The next morning, her friends stayed in bed late. Jennifer, however, was restless. She needed to get out, to get some fresh air. Jennifer was walking towards the restaurant when she spotted the French girl. She sat on a wooden bench, talking to one of the men from the night before. Whatever she was saying, the man appeared to be engrossed. The girl stood up, smiled, ran in the direction of the woods. The man did not pause. He eagerly chased after her.

  Jennifer did not stand a chance. The urges were just too much. She desperately needed to know where the girl was leading him to, and why. She kicked off her flip-flops and followed. Her bare feet dug into the uneven floor, snapping the twigs underneath. The morning sun seeped through tiny gaps in the trees. She could just about make out the man in the distance. One moment she was too far away; the next she was too close. Her head spun; it was a deadly mix of exhaustion and excitement.

  And then the man stopped running. He slowed down and started walking.

  Jennifer cautiously peered round the edge of a tree. There was the girl, stood with her back pressed against the trunk of a tree. She stretched out her arm. With her middle finger, she asked the man to come closer. He did, but slowly, tentatively. Jennifer watched her lips move. She was giving him an instruction. He knelt on one knee, pulled the tight little shorts down her fleshy thighs. Jennifer saw that she wore no panties. Her full dark mound of hair absolutely glistened. The tongue was inside her now – darting, flicking, massaging and toying. The girl raised her legs, wrapped them tightly around his shoulders. She pulled back her head, looked to the skies, released a long husky moan. Then – slowly, casually – she looked in Jennifer’s direction, and smiled wickedly.

  Jennifer shook to the core. The girl must have known that she was there all along.

  She turned and ran, back in the direction of the campsite. Cuts and bruises formed on her feet, but she hardly noticed, barely cared. Jennifer was frantic with need. She needed to get out of there, and as quickly as possible. A bead of sweat formed on her forehead, trickled down her hot cheek. She was dizzy and short of breath.

  Jennifer opened the door to her room and – thank God – the girls were out. She needed to take her pants off, right now. She rolled them down her thighs; kicked them from her feet. Jennifer stretched out her legs, pressed her swollen feet against the concrete wall. The aroma of sweat and hot sticky sex instantly filled the room. Jennifer frantically rubbed and massaged her erect clit until she was panting breathlessly and squirting her juices uncontrollably all over the fresh linen bed sheets.

  Jennifer had never felt like this before. This girl – who she had never spoken to before, whose name she did not even know – invaded her every thought, daydream and fantasy. The days passed slowly. The four girls spent hours sunbathing by the pool. Their endless chatter became a distraction, a mere irritant. She pretended to listen, even contributed where necessary. In reality, Jennifer constantly looked out for the girl through her dark sunglasses, when she was in the pool, at the bar, when she strolled back to the room. And yet, there was not a single glimpse of her. She suspected that she had gone home. Jennifer was left feeling disappointed and frustrated.

  The final day, Jennifer again woke early. The sun was only just beginning to rise. She had so much pent-up energy, but had no avenue for release. Subconsciously, she retraced her steps. Everything was exactly the same from a few mornings before – the time and the place. And there she was, sat on the same wooden bench. Only this time she was not with a young man. She was alone. It was as if she was waiting, had read Jennifer’s thoughts. She saw Jennifer walking towards her. She smiled. And then she stood up, and walked.

  This time, Jennifer was not sure whether to follow. She knew that the smile was encouraging, that it was both warm and inviting. And yet, she knew that this was completely different from actually wanting to be followed. Unlike the last time, the girl was not running. Now, she was walking. Her full wide hips swayed rhythmically, almost hypnotically. And yet, when the girl did look back, her smile did little to hide a multitude of sins.

  Now, Jennifer was certain that the girl most definitely wanted to be followed.

  She did not head into the woods. The girl walked down the footpath. The path was sheltered, with trees and greenery on both sides. Jennifer knew where the footpath led, but she did not know why the girl would take her there. The girl looked back. The sinful smile was still there. The downward slope became steeper. The girl gained momentum, walked faster, until she was almost running. Jennifer struggled to keep up with her. She moved out of sight.

  Jennifer reached the bottom of the slope. Right in front of her lay a massive expanse of clear, fast-flowing water. She knew that the path led to the river, but even so, its beauty never failed to take her breath away. Now, though, this was not the only thing affecting her breathing.

  The girl was stretched out on a wooden rowing boat, right on the bank of the river. Her smile was broad. It was mischievous. She leaned out her arm and gestured to come closer. Jennifer had seen it before. Only, this time she was not hidden behind a tree. She was not watching from afar. Now, the girl wanted her to come closer. And, this time, it was so much more exciting.

  Her footsteps were unsteady. Her knees trembled. She carefully placed one foot inside the boat, then the other. It rocked uneasily from side to side. Jennifer sat down on the other side of the boat, leaned her tense shoulders upright against the wooden panels.

  “I like to be chased,” the girl stated, matter-of-factly. “And I get the impression that you like to chase.”

  The French accent was strong, but the English was immaculate. She had a soft, sweet voice, which contrasted nicely with her deep, husky laugh. Jennifer noticed a cute little oval beauty spot above her top lip. Her raised knees were parted. Jennifer glimpsed between her smooth dark thighs, all the way to the top. She noticed that today she was wearing panties – red, lacy ones. The girl must have noticed the wandering eyes. She parted her thighs further. “So, are you going to take them off?” she asked, daringly.

  Jennifer’s mouth was too dry, her throat too tight to speak. Instead, she let her hands talk for themselves, her long fingers delicately rolling the panties down the girl’s thighs. She glanced momentarily at the wonderfully thick mound of hair. The girl leaned back, cushioned her head on the narrow edge of the boat. “So,” she drawled. “Did
you enjoy watching me the other morning? You were a naughty . . .” She paused as she tried to think of the right words. Her eyes looked to the sky. Her forehead furrowed. “Ah yes – peeping Tom!”

  Jennifer could only nod her head. Her cheeks were burning red. The tips of her fingers were numb with nerves.

  “And.” The girl smiled, spreading her legs even wider so that her feet pressed against the sides of the boat. “Would you like to taste for yourself?”

  Jennifer searched for the right words. Her mind was blank. “Oui, s’il vous plait.”

  They were the only French words that she knew. They were the only words that she needed.

  Jennifer knelt down on all fours. She desperately wanted to tease, to at least give the illusion of some restraint and control. She tried to delay her kisses, brush her tongue slowly, languidly over the delightful pale skin, and yet she wanted to taste her so bad. The desire and hunger had been building at an uncontrollable rate for days. The girl had become a wicked obsession, dominating her every thought. Now Jennifer could already smell her hot, excited cunt. The wonderful aroma was drawing her in like a magnetic force. She could not resist any longer. Her tongue darted between the parted thighs, instantly found its way to her creamy centre.

  The girl released a growl. Jennifer could only feel, taste, hear and smell now. Her face was nestled deep between her legs. Her eyes were shut tight. She felt the girl tearing at her T-shirt, almost ripping the fabric. Her long manicured nails grazed down her back. The pink, delicate skin felt hot, burning to the touch.

  The girl was moaning. For all her bravado and swagger, the girl needed Jennifer as much as Jennifer needed her. She had her own, overflowing desires. She longed to be satisfied. And right now, her juices were overflowing, hot and sticky on the tongue, trickling between her plump buttocks. The little wooden boat swayed from side to side as her feet straddled around Jennifer’s waist, squeezed tight. “English girl make me come!” she screamed, and instantly the boat swayed as she panted breathlessly to an orgasm.