There was silence again in the room. Joanna glanced round at the other members of the group. She had to stifle a laugh. They all stared, open-mouthed. Nobody had a clue what to say. When there was no reaction, Nicole again shrugged her shoulders, said exactly what she had a week earlier: “I just can’t get enough.”
That night, Joanna again did not get off the train at her stop. She went back to the same gay bar, and was again fingered to orgasm in exactly the same corner, only this time by a black girl with a wicked smile and hot sensual curves in all right places.
Joanna began to wonder whether the group was helping or hindering. Since Nicole had joined, Joanna had been hornier than ever, even more desperate for her longings and cravings to be fulfilled by someone, by anyone. But she knew that she was going to keep going, if only to see Nicole, to listen to her latest outrageous adventures.
It was the same routine the following week. Nicole again arrived late. This time the little black top she wore pushed her cleavage together so that it resembled two ripe, succulent peaches. At the end of the meeting, there was the same air of expectancy, only this time Nicole remained silent. Joanna was shocked by the intensity of her disappointment.
Joanna did not follow Nicole to the tube station – rather, she convinced herself that they both happened to be walking at exactly the same pace, heading in the same direction – but again she found herself sitting in the same seat as two weeks before. Nicole gave no indication at all that she was even remotely aware of Joanna’s presence. Only, at her stop, she again turned and smiled at Joanna.
“So, are you coming?” Nicole asked, holding out her hand.
No words were spoken as they walked across the street and along the cracked, uneven pavements. It was getting dark and there was a slight drizzle. Joanna had no idea where she was being taken to or why, not even whether it was safe to go. However, there was never any doubt that she would go.
She was led into a hotel foyer.
“I have a reservation in the name of Mrs Smith,” Nicole explained to the receptionist.
Joanna had to hide her shock. Nicole must have planned this all along.
A four-poster bed, covered with silk sheets and fluffy pillows, stood in the center of the room. Joanna had hardly taken in her surroundings before she was forcibly pushed down onto the bed.
Nicole quickly kneeled over Joanna, and forced her long strong legs down either side of Joanna’s slim waist. Even if Joanna had wanted to resist, there was no way that she would be able to: Nicole had a vise-like grip over her. Nicole leaned forward, passion etched across her face. Her long red hair hung loose, tickled against Joanna’s reddening cheeks. Joanna was astonished by how beautiful Nicole’s green eyes were close up.
“Do you really think that I joined the group because I have a problem controlling my sexual desires?” Nicole asked with a wicked sneer.
Joanna was too mesmerized, too absorbed (possibly too afraid) to answer. She shook her head from side to side.
“Of course I didn’t!” Nicole exclaimed, as she pulled her little black top over her shoulders, revealing a leopard-skin bra underneath. “Do you want to know why I joined the group?” she asked, leaning back and pushing a hand between Joanna’s thighs. Joanna instinctively parted her legs just a few (significant) inches wider. Joanna’s eyes were bulging now from a deadly combination of fear, excitement and anticipation. She nodded her head, not daring to glimpse away for a single moment.
“I joined the group,” Nicole said, thrusting a finger inside Joanna’s panties, “because I wanted to find a girl who was just as fucking horny for it as I am! And,” she continued, with a self-satisfied snarl, pulling out from between Joanna’s legs, “judging by the fact that you have already drenched my fingers, I think I may just have found one!” Nicole pushed the glistening fingers between Joanna’s open lips, and Joanna hungrily – obediently – sucked on them.
“You know, what I really want,” Nicole continued, “is a girl who will do whatever I tell her to. Do you think that you would do that?”
Right now, thought Joanna, feeling her nipples tingle and juices slowly trickle down her buttocks, I will do whatever you fucking well tell me to do. Still, she spoke no words. Again, she nodded her head.
Nicole hurriedly slipped off her denim skirt and matching panties and bra. Naked, she was absolutely breathtaking. Her breasts were not large, but were ripe and round with pointed dark nipples. She was slender and slight and yet her legs were shapely and strong. What really aroused Joanna, however, what really made her throat dry and her cunt wet, was the full, fine red hair between her legs.
A delicious blend of perfume and pussy filled the room. Joanna lay back on the bed, fully clothed, awaiting instructions. She usually took the initiative in the bedroom. Now, she knew it was not even an option. Nicole was keeping her waiting. She prowled around the four corners of the bed on her tiptoes. Joanna longed to fill the void by rubbing her throbbing clit. She feared that Nicole would slap her hand away.
“Remember I told you about my dildo? The one I used to make myself come like a train?” Nicole asked, moving towards her handbag lying on the floor. “Well,” she continued, “I wasn’t telling the whole story there. The truth is that there is more than one.”
Nicole stood naked, a long shiny porcelain dildo in each hand. She had the same wicked, mischievous smile on her face that Joanna remembered from the meetings. Joanna stretched out her hand to touch her, but was instantly rebuked.
“Put those hands away until I tell you where you can stick them!” Nicole ordered. Her tone instantly softened. “Don’t worry: they will be put to very good use in a moment.”
Nicole climbed onto the king-size bed. She bent at the knees so that her cunt was lowered just inches from Joanna’s face. The tantalizing aroma was absolute agony for Joanna, the temptations overwhelming. It was as if Nicole paused momentarily, just to test Joanna’s willpower. It very nearly broke. Nicole faced the full-length mirror that was on the wall at the bottom of the bed. She thrust the dildo into Joanna’s hand.
“OK, my horny little sex addict, stick it inside my pussy,” she demanded. There was definitely need in her voice.
Joanna did not have to be asked twice. The dildo slid in effortlessly. She was incredibly slippery and wet. Joanna felt Nicole tense, her body shudder. She slowly, deliberately, pushed the dildo back and forth. “Harder!” Nicole demanded. Joanna did as she was told. Nicole released a deep growl. Joanna knew that she was looking at herself in the mirror, that watching herself was turning her on.
“Now,” Nicole shouted, ‘lick my clit at the same time, you horny little bitch.”
Joanna raised her head from the pillow, circled the erect little bud with the tip of her tongue. Juices trickled down her chin. She built a perfect, steady rhythm. The pressure she applied with her tongue synchronized with the force exerted by the dildo. Within minutes, Nicole was writhing on top of her with pleasure, barely able to contain her wild, animalistic moans. She shuddered to an orgasm and then, almost immediately, was overcome by another, even more powerful climax.
Nicole was far from finished, however. “That second dildo is not there just for show,” she growled. “Stick it in my arse. I want both of them inside me!”
Nicole was already fully lubricated from the juices that trickled between her buttocks. She gasped with ecstasy as the second dildo slipped easily inside. Joanna applied the same pressure, the same pace, with both her left and right hands. Nicole thrust her hips backward and forward, as the wonderful cocks pushed in and out. Joanna was encouraged by the moans and groans and curses that emitted from Nicole’s mouth. She started to take more control, began to whisper her own torturous words. “You like two cocks inside you don’t you, you horny bitch . . . like to be filled up with cock . . . yeah moan for me.”
Orgasm after wonderful orgasm followed until Nicole collapsed onto the bed, an exhausted, shuddering wreck. It took moments before she was able to regain steady breathing, further m
oments before she was able to string a coherent sentence together. When she looked up at Joanna, her smile was softer, her tone gentler. “I think it is your turn to do whatever you want, Joanna.”
The rest of the night was spent swapping positions and sexual favors. Joanna had never before found a girl who matched her own intensity and desire for pleasure, and it was the most incredible evening ever. They kissed and hugged as they left the hotel and promised to meet each other again at the group.
Joanna continued attending the meeting every week (seven o’clock prompt), without fail. She never saw Nicole there again. It was not a problem. She assumed that the meetings had served their purpose for her. Another girl began attending who aroused Joanna’s interest. She was young and cute with seemingly an insatiable sexual appetite. They caught the same train line.
“So, are you coming?” Joanna asked after the girl’s third meeting, holding out her hand.
She had a hotel room booked in the name of Mrs Jones.
Read more Chris Westlake stories in Lesbian Erotica Volumes 5, 6, 7 and 8 and in Erotica Volume 11
HAIR TODAY, COME TOMORROW
Dominique James
I’ve just discovered the most amazing and exciting thing. As well as being extremely satisfying, it’s also very kinky, and that, in my opinion, multiplies the excitement. I intend to try it again and again but I just have to tell someone about this first time.
It involved my friend Debbie. She and I are very open with each other and often play sexy lesbian games together. She is lesbian but I go with the flow, as it were. My husband doesn’t mind and loves to watch. He’s a civil engineer so is away for days at a time every other week or so. I think he encourages me to play with Debbie just in case I get so worked up (I can do that sometimes) and start to look for another man to play with. I never have, and never would do that, but you know what men are like and how jealous they can get when they start to think too hard. I strongly suspect it’s because most of them wouldn’t pass up the offer if a woman made herself available and they assume women are the same.
A few nights ago, he was away. So was Debbie, leaving me on my own. Never a good idea; typical me – I always want what I can’t have – was feeling very frustrated despite my collection of sex toys and my clever little fingers.
Debbie was only away for one night and was coming to stay the following night. We like to play mild BDSM games (more BD than SM) because we both like the feelings of trust that go with them, plus the feelings of helplessness when you’re the “bottom”. Anyway, the night she arrived home I picked her up from the station, having planned a little game during my needy, waking hours the previous night. It involved a nice, easy-to-eat (or, rather, easy to feed your same-sex lover when she’s all tied up) dinner and would go on from there.
When the train arrived and she stepped out, she was looking a bit tired from her trip away, but ever so smart in her business suit, and I was looking forward to getting at her as soon as possible. We had a quick hello snog on the platform, both of us amused by all the people looking but pretending not to. She kind of spoiled my urgency when she said, “D’you know what I need the moment we get in?” My expectations were dashed when she answered her own question with, “A nice, warm shower.”
OK, so that meant altering my plans. But not too much. We drove along and she told me about her dreary two days – she’s a management consultant and gets constantly hit on by all the male clients. Then again she’s lovely to look at so you can’t really blame them too much. She sometimes resorts to reaching into her bag and pulling out a picture of the two of us from our holiday in Ibiza – both in bikinis – and telling them I’m her partner. She really doesn’t understand men well enough to realize that just makes them worse, both from the sight of us in those (very brief) bikinis to the idea of two women together. I occasionally wish some of them could try it (not with me, I hasten to add) – the women would be still at it long after they’d prematurely ejaculated and started snoring.
When we got close to home, I stopped the car at the side of the lane – it was quite dark by then so nobody could see.
“What are you doing?” Debbie asked sleepily.
“Blindfolding you,” I answered, leaning across and fitting her with an airline blindfold (whenever I fly I always keep them for times such as this). I took one look at her and started to laugh, and, of course, she wanted to know why. I’d just picked a mask at random but the one I’d picked just seemed hilarious to me.
“It says on the blindfold you’re a virgin! Must be a very, very old blindfold.”
She huffed and puffed (in a jokey way) and the only sensible way to stop her was a kiss. No, not a peck, but a soft, increasingly urgent woman-kiss. Perhaps it was just as well it was dark, but I suppose any of the occasional cars that caught us in their headlights could have seen what we were doing – above the waist anyway, I’m admitting nothing below the waist. Or neck in this case. All right, I was stroking her boobs, OK? Well, bugger them, I don’t care. The last kiss I’d had previously to these was a goodbye kiss from Philip, complete with his rough, bristly skin, naughtily groping hands on my boobs and the kind of clumsy force men seem to adopt when they’re trying to be macho. If that was a kiss, then this one with Debs needed a new definition.
Anyway, I digress. I told her she mustn’t remove the blindfold and completed the drive home. She said she thought it was because I was taking her on some kind of mystery tour so I let her go on believing that. When we eventually arrived home, I had to help her inside and we went straight upstairs, where I enjoyed myself undressing her. She sat on the bed while I did the same, complaining because she wanted to watch.
“Shut up or I’ll tie you up,” I warned.
“Blah, blah, blah,” she said. “Blah, blah, blah, blah . . . blah.” She likes to be tied up almost as much as I do.
I went into the bathroom and put out some fresh towels, then switched on the water before coming back to get her.
“Don’t get my hair wet,” she said, “it takes too long to dry and I need to sleep.”
I didn’t get the significance of her request till I thought back on it the following morning.
In the shower I spent a lot of time soaping her and washing away the sweat and grime of a couple of days in London and the idea of those grubby men’s paws on her. Some of these creeps really revolt her but she has to keep smiling and being nice, apart from the odd one over the years who’s managed to get her alone in a copier room or something and has ended up with a knee in the balls.
Funny how showers can relax a person so much. Soaping gave way to caressing and that led to kissing as we both got more and more into each other, but I’d decided the previous night I was going to take the lead, such that most times when she got a little intimate with me I’d gently slap her hands away, telling her to relax and that I was in control. She seemed happy enough with that idea.
After the shower I dried us both off and led her back downstairs into the lounge, the crackling log fire now well ablaze and very welcoming. I sat us on the sofa and tied her hands behind her back with a soft silk scarf I’d put there in the afternoon. (I put a few there, actually, just in case I wanted to tie more than just her hands.) Silk scarves are good and bad for bondage: they’re lovely and gentle so can stay on for hours without discomfort but they do have a tendency to slide and can come off unintentionally. But I’ve had lots of practice and have devised a way to double knots back on themselves so that doesn’t happen – Debbie would get free when I decided, not when she or fate did.
I nipped to the kitchen and served up a single plate of the very spicy chicken Panang I’d made that afternoon and had been keeping hot in the slow cooker. It’s tasty and warming, but light and fresh-tasting. A single fork was all we needed. OK, purists would say chopsticks but I’m not very proficient with them and didn’t want hot curry spilling on sensitive female flesh.
I’d chosen curry as part of my plan and, when we’d had sufficient, I moved on t
o the next stage. I settled Debbie back onto the sofa, ignoring her complaints that her arms were trapped behind her, and slipped onto the soft carpet below, pushing her legs gently apart. It’s funny – human nature/ nurture, I guess – that when people are watching us we remember our mothers’ instructions not to stare, but when they can’t see us, that’s a different matter. I was inches from Debbie’s completely exposed vagina and spent quite a time looking at it and stroking it, from the creases at the top of her thighs, her mons veneris, her labia majora (sorry if I’m being clinical but I think the actual names were more apt to the occasion – it felt as much like a clinical examination as a sex game).
Debbie was getting quite worked up at my attentions, and I’m sure that – behind the blindfold – she knew full well I was examining her so intimately, but that didn’t stop her jerking and jumping as I touched her, especially as I ventured beyond the dry to the moist; getting more moist by the second, in fact. Now was the time to bring the curry into play. I took a quick forkful of the sauce, making sure my tongue and lips were well coated before swallowing it, and leaned forward to lick and kiss her inner lips (that better?) and her clitoral area, spreading her own emissions around and over the bud itself – clitted cream anyone?
The heat of the curry had its effects, warming up her most sensitive skin.
“Hell, D, I’m on fire,” she laughed.
I spent maybe fifteen minutes doing that before we swapped places and she did me the same way. We even swapped the blindfold so I couldn’t see what she was looking at or about to do; but I felt what she was doing just fine. We had a laugh when she needed more sauce because she had to guide my fork hand to the curry and to her mouth, since I couldn’t see and she couldn’t move her hands. In the end I took off the blindfold and watched her licking and kissing me.
The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotic Stories Page 29
