Blue Collar Lesbian Erotica

by Karin Kallmaker

  "Are you coming? Again?" I asked stupidly with just a hint of incredulity.

  Sara's eyes flew open as she grabbed her hair. "Will you get this thing off?" she yelled and I jumped.

  I finally got the key in the lock. I twisted the key back and forth and nothing would work. God, no...I began to sweat in earnest now. It was dripping down my back. I wiped my brow and tried again.

  Poor Sara was moaning loudly, the onset of another orgasm. Can you die from too many? I thought stupidly, as concentrated on my task.

  "What's...w-wrong?" she gasped as her legs trembled. "OH, God, I'm coming, JO!"

  "Shit!" I said angrily. I never in my wildest dreams thought that I'd be terrified of an orgasm. "Hold on..."

  "Fuck!" she said and pushed my hands away. She tried to no avail.

  I took the key once again and gave it a quick twist and the unthinkable happened. I sat back with the broken key in my hand. I blinked stupidly at my poor lover who just had her sixth orgasm. She really didn't know what happened. Trying to collect myself, I reached for the remote and banged it on the table. I pointed at her quivering body and pressed the off button. Thank God!

  "Ohgodohgod," Sara moaned as the tremors stopped. She let out a contended sigh. "Unfuckingbelievable."

  I took a deep grateful breath. Sara laughed quietly and reached for me. I allowed her to pull me into a warm embrace before telling her what happened. It was a nice loving hug. I basked in that love knowing in about three seconds it would be over. I swallowed hard and pulled back.

  Sara was coming out of her euphoria. "Hmmm, what a good idea even if that stupid remote didn't work. It must have a short. God, Jo, I'm exhausted," she sighed tiredly.

  I still had the broken key in my hand.

  "Um, honey?" I said softly.

  It was the tone of my voice, I'm sure, that made her eyes pop wide open.

  "What?" she asked in a quiet terrified voice.

  I took a deep breath and held up the broken key.

  Sara blinked rapidly several times as if trying to register the extent of this disaster.

  "The key broke off in the lock, honey." I somehow felt the need to explain this out loud.

  "You broke the key off in the lock to this contraption?" she asked quietly irate, but very succinct, I might add.

  "Well, now a moment ago, you said it was unfuckingbelievable," I reminded her with a weak smile.

  "Get...This...Thing...Off...Me," she said. The tone in her lovely voice nearly made me soil myself.

  "Okay. Okay. I, um, well," I stumbled and scratched my head. I looked down at my beautiful lover locked in the shiny steel prison. Locked.

  I reached over my prone lover and grabbed the phone. After a few rings...

  "Stacey? Jo. How are ya?"

  I heard Sara growl lowly and got to the point. As I explained, Stacey roared with laughter. So much so, that Sara heard her. She closed her eyes to calm her anger. I avoided her completely. "So can you come over?"

  "What do you expect me to do, Oh Great One?" she asked.

  "You're a locksmith for chrissakes. Smith this lock!" I said helplessly.

  "Okay, I'm closing shop in ten minutes. I'll be right over.

  Chastity belts...you two beat all, you know that?" she said laughing.

  "Just get here, please," I begged and hung up.

  Sara lay there with a smug look. "Smith this lock?"

  I laughed quietly and I hesitantly lay next to her. "Baby, you feel ok?"

  "Yes, baby is fine. And you, dumpling?" she asked calmly. I didn't want to laugh, but this woman is just so wonderful. I chuckled, she joined me, and in a moment, we were both hysterical, rolling around the bed. Sara groaned and stopped.

  "What's wrong?" I asked urgently.

  "Forgot about the plugs," she winced and lay back.

  "Shit, Sara. We'll get you out of that thing in a few minutes. I am so sorry, sweetie," I said earnestly.

  Sara reached up and gently touched my cheek. "I know you are. Actually, this was a good idea. It's just that sometimes--"

  "I know; I'm a bonehead. I don't know why..."

  Sara reached up and pulled me down to her. She kissed me with such love it took my breath away. "You are a bonehead but you're my bonehead," she whispered with a grin. "But you know what?"

  "Huh?" I mumbled quietly. I closed my eyes as she raked her fingers through my hair. She controls me completely when she does this. I was breathing deeply, reveling in her touch.

  "I have to go to the bathroom," she whispered against my lips.

  My eyes flew open as I pulled back. "You can. Here, wait..." I said and I scooted down between her beautiful thighs. I slipped the metal shield off and slipped off the-- Shit! I sat there with the clitoral stimulator in my hand. I felt like such a moron.

  "Do you mean to tell me, you could have taken that thing off at any time?" she said, her voice rising with each word.

  I winced as she spoke. "I-I forgot. I was so worried the remote didn't work. You know how I am with electronic stuff." I tried to defend myself.

  There was no defense. I sat back on my heels, the picture of stupidity and dejection. I looked up at her. "At least you can go to the bathroom now." I smiled sheepishly.

  Sara, my beloved, glared at me, her nostrils flaring. "That's not where I need relief," she said through clenched teeth.

  "Eeww," I said with a grimace.

  Sara closed her eyes and shook her head. "Someday I will kill you, and when I tell the judge of all your ideas, I doubt I'll do any time at all really. Perhaps just a visit or two to the psycho ward..."

  I said nothing, still trying not to laugh. I ran my hand over my mouth in the attempt.

  With that, mercifully, the doorbell rang.

  "The locksmith, cometh." I said and jumped from the bed.

  When I brought Stacey into the bedroom, Sara had slipped into her silk robe. I frowned deeply. Geesh, she could've put on a pair of sweats. I glanced at Stacey who was grinning with eyes wide open.

  "Well, hello, Sara. I hear you're in need of my services," she said in a sultry voice.

  "Okay, Casanova, just get the lock off," I said quickly.

  Stacey walked around the bed to sit on the other side with bag in tow.

  I leaned into my beloved. "Do you have to look so sexy?" I whispered.

  She glared at me. "Don't even go there, Houdini," she said, evoking a low chuckle from Stacey, who pulled out the tools of her trade, in a variety of shapes.

  "Say ahh," she said with a grin as she flexed the steel clippers.

  I reached over and slapped her head. Sara laughed as she opened her robe.

  "Don't even think about getting aroused by this, Stacey," I warned and Sara rolled her eyes.

  Stacey gave me an incredulous look. "I'm sitting on a bed with a drop dead gorgeous woman who's wearing nothing but a black silk robe and a chastity belt, which I'm about to cut off, and you expect me not to get aroused? Man, that's just brutal," the young blonde declared and shook her head as she chewed her gum. She then concentrated on her task.

  Twenty minutes and a minimum amount of pain later, Stacey had the lock cut off. She grinned evilly and reached for the lock. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the bed.

  "Ouch, okay, okay..." Stacey grimaced as I led her to the door.

  "Jo Windham," Sara scolded as I yanked our young savior out of the bedroom. "Thanks, Stacey." I heard Sara call out.

  "Anytime." Stacey called back and I slapped her on the head again.

  "Thank you, Stacey," I said sincerely.

  She rubbed her wrist. "You're welcome," she said as she opened the door. She leaned into me. "Was it hot?" she whispered.

  "Totally," I assured her.

  The young locksmith groaned helplessly as I closed the door on her.

  Sara was not on the bed when I returned. I heard the toilet flush and winced. Then I heard the shower running. I slipped out of my clothes and joined her.

  "Let me get your back," I offe
red as I stepped into the steamy spray. "It's the least I can do."

  WE LAY IN bed later that night, Sara cuddled close to my side. I absently ran my fingers through her hair.

  "Mad at me?" I asked, hating that I sounded so juvenile. I heard her take a deep breath.

  "No, I am not mad at you; not anymore anyway. I love you," she whispered and kissed my shoulder.

  "God I love you, Sara. I always will," I said emphatically as I rolled her onto her back.

  She gave me a worried look. "What are you thinking?" she asked softly as she caressed my cheek.

  "Page forty-two. There was this article on this certain technique..." I stated as I kissed her neck.

  "No. No more experiments, Jo," she said.

  "Mhmm," I agreed as I tenderly kissed her earlobe. I felt her body shiver.

  "W-What kind of technique?" she asked. "It doesn't involve any metal does it?"

  I laughed quietly. "Nope, this is just me and you," I assured her tenderly.

  "Now that's a good idea, Jo Windham. You may proceed," she whispered and pulled me down for a long loving kiss.

  I gave one last glance at the treacherous chastity belt as it lay in a twisted heap in the chair, mocking me. I laughed inwardly. It's nice to spice up your sex life, but when it really comes down to it, there is nothing better than the woman I love, loving me, loving her.

  Barfly

  by Trish Shields

  I SAT IN the corner, the lights dim, except those over the pool tables. A few couples played, their shots sounding like an accompaniment to Patsy Cline as she crooned over the jukebox.

  My fingers drew abstract images in the condensation sliding off the side of my beer bottle. Both boots were propped up on the chair across from me, and my chair was tipped back. The same faces greeted me and I realized that I'd finally gotten to a place where I'd heard too much country music. Not that there was much choice.

  Not a gay bar per se, just one of a few that didn't care what color your money is, just that you spend it there. And as long as you're discreet, you won't be messed with. I could understand that and respect it. Nobody wanted trouble, only a place to sit and watch their lives go by. I was okay with that, too.

  I blended in easily with my leather jacket, high hobnails and solitary ways. Most of the clientele are truckers, but some are locals. Those that are keep to themselves, away from those of us of questionable tastes.

  A glance at the clock showed me that it would be "last call" very shortly. I glanced at my half empty bottle. I don't come for the beer really, just for the chance to get out of the place I call home--a 14 foot trailer inherited from my mother. Well, if you can call her leaving me to wake up one morning at the tender age of 12 to find her gone, a small note indicating she'd send money when she could, but that she couldn't stand the life she was presently tortured by, an inheritance.

  Thinking back on it now, I guess it was the kindest thing she did for me, or anyone else for that matter. Hard-bitten and totally oblivious as to how to bring up a child, let alone keep her own life straight, she did right by letting me do the job. It made it a hell of a lot easier coming out three years later with a nice brown skinned girl in the next small town. I'd always enjoyed riding my bike, but I could peddle that sucker and go like the wind with the thought of an afternoon in her arms as my prize.

  But then she grew up and moved away and I started coming to the bar, watching the wildlife, engaging my gay-dar, and getting lucky every now and again.

  Questions began nagging me though--was this all there was to life? Wasn't I headed down the same damned road my mother had taken years ago, abandoning myself just as she had done?

  The bowl of peanuts was empty, but as my eyes picked out another bowl nearby, they picked out two coal black eyes staring so intently at me that I swear she was looking into my very soul. My chair came down with a crash and I sat with both palms flat on the table. My mouth was dry and yet I couldn't make my hands move, couldn't lift my beer if my life depended on it; pinned like a rare butterfly on the corkboard of life.

  She sat there, and as her eyes moved from mine, down slowly, taking in every inch of my body, I thought I might just burst into flames. As her gaze was moving back up I was taking my own time perusing the delicacy before me on the way down. I couldn't see much in the semi-darkness, but I could see that she had close-cropped curly hair and a wicked smile that promised more than anyone had a right to enjoy in one lifetime.

  Someone walked between us, the bond broken, and I dragged in a full deep breath of air. I felt as if I hadn't exhaled in at least an hour. Finally able to move my hands, one went to the bottle and the other to wipe at the sheen of sweat that had appeared while I was lost in limbo. Downing what was left of my beer, I decided to use it as an excuse to get up and perhaps wander my way over to the beauty's table on my way back from getting another beer. Would I be so bold and would she care? My eyes darted up and I felt pinned all over again. It took an effort to pull my eyes away from hers, and although my knees felt weak, I did lumber to my feet and then waded through the morass the air had suddenly turned into. Each step seemed in slow motion and I felt I must have aged as I finally gripped the side of the bar counter. Josie, the bartender and owner, cocked an eye in my direction. I rarely have more than one beer, and only if I've had a shitty week at work. That wasn't the case and Josie knew it. I was one of only two mechanics in town worth their salt so I got lots of work. I could have moved out of that damned hellhole I lived in, but it had always been home so I placed most of my paycheck into the local bank and forgot about it. I'd been working on Josie's truck since midweek and things were coming along just fine.

  I cleared my throat and cocked my head slightly to the right.

  "Know who she is, where she's from, who she's with?"

  Josie shook her head and snorted. "What am I, 'Dear Fricken Abby'? Go ask her yourself." We'd known each other all through school. She was one of the first people I'd shared my little secret with and I remember how she laughed, because it really hadn't been a secret in the first place, at least not to her. She knew the type of women I liked, and I could tell that she thought I might be a little out of my league. "She looks too good for you anyway, Tony." She wiped the bar down and slammed her hand on the counter. "Now, you want another beer, that I can help you with."

  I placed the empty on the bar along with a five-dollar bill. With a nod Josie grabbed another Bud out of the cooler and slid it down my way.

  My heart was racing when I turned and found that the object of my desire wasn't at her table. My eyes scanned the room quickly and my breathing caught in my throat as I saw that she'd moved to my table.

  Forcing one foot in front of the other I made my way back to the table and sat down. The music in the bar faded away and all I could hear was the click I was making as I tried to swallow a bit of moisture down my throat.

  Now that she was closer, I could see the toffee color of her skin, her fine boned frame and almond eyes to die for. I could smell a scent of cinnamon. She was exotic and yet somehow familiar. When she reached her long tapered fingers across the table to lie on mine I thought I might die. I could imagine those fingers slowly moving over my body, entwined in mine as I moved over her, with her, inside her. I longed to see the contrast her hands would make as they clutched and kneaded my breasts, her full lips pulling my nipples into taut points of intensity.

  I felt a sense of great loss when she removed her hand and instead placed the new bottle of beer between my hands. "You look thirsty, kiddo." Her voice was like honey or caramel or a mixture of the two with just a touch of chocolate to keep it all together.

  One gold dangling earring shone in what little light the bar afforded. She had a stud higher in her other ear and I wondered what other succulent flesh might be pierced with tantalizing bits of gold. That thought took me down another merry path of torture as I imagined her legs over my shoulder with the scent of cinnamon inhaled with every breath and a piece of gold caught in my teeth.


  Another click filled my head as I managed to force a bit of liquid down my throat. I'm not the talkative type, preferring others to do the talking while I took care of the action part of the equation. As the silence lengthened between us I wondered who would win the staring contest I hadn't even known had begun. Finally, I broke away from her steady gaze and pulled the bottle to my lips. The tip of her tongue slipped out from between two full luscious lips as I slowly consumed the contents of my beer without taking a breath.

  Her chair creaked as she dragged it closer to mine, out of the partial light and into the shadows I was sitting in. Her hand moved slowly from the table and I watched it as if it were a snake, ready to coil about my body. As her hand moved up my leg, wandering onto my inner thigh, I expelled a breath and caught her hand hard against my jeans.

  My mouth opened, the words wanting to tumble out as to who she was and where she thought we were going with all this teasing. But before I could, she purred, "Now you aren't going to ask what a nice girl like me is doing in a place like this, are you?" Her hand twitched beneath my own. "I figured you for more of an imagination." My mouth snapped shut, the words caught behind my teeth and forgotten immediately.

  Her journey up to the juncture of my jeans continued and as she reached her final destination she gasped. I had visions of her pulling her burned hand away but she didn't, and instead began to massage the fabric, pushing harder as she moved closer, her mouth just inches from my ear. "I'm going to make you cum right here in this bar with everyone around, all of them oblivious to the ecstasy I'm going to put you through." The way her lips moved across the sensitive skin of my ear lobe was all too familiar, and images of the perfect mate, the one that had punctuated every night of my life since I was old enough to know I loved women more than I loved to breathe, came to the fore.

  I didn't know this woman, but somehow I did. It felt natural for me to simply lean back and slowly open my legs. I shuddered as her teeth grazed my lobe and her tongue worked its magic inside my ear. With one hand gripped on the bottle and the other on the table, I tried to look normal, as if sanity was a usual state of mind for me, that I was still the boring 30 year old that came in and sat in a dark corner nursing one beer before heading home, usually alone.