"This is Murphy," said the leather jacket's owner.
"Um, hi. Last night, you responded to a call on Edenfield, and you left your jacket." Leah trailed off, not sure what else to say. Lets go to bed would probably be too forward.
"Oh hey, yeah! I was going to wander up and down the street this afternoon calling for it. Or just hoping some hot blonde came out and returned it to me, if it didn't grow legs."
Leah laughed and said, "Well, I'll save you the walk. Would you like to have lunch?" Leah held her breath, remembering the feel of a light brush against her breast.
"If not, that's okay, I mean, I could just drop off your jacket, or whatever, I'm sure you're on duty..."
"No! I mean, yes, I would love to go to lunch. I got off duty this morning, but was just cleaning up and doing some paperwork. What time, and where? Oh, and do you have a name?"
"My name is Leah, and how about 2 o'clock? I have to run some errands this morning. I'll pick you up at the station." Like get new underwear, a new bra, stockings, god willing she sees them.
"Two is fine, and my name's Chris. See you then."
Was that a flirtatious tone Leah heard in that husky voice? After hanging up, she grabbed her purse and ran out the door, heading for the nearest Victoria's Secret.
FOUR HOURS LATER Leah stepped through the doorway of the station and said to the Matronly woman at the front desk, "Hi. I'm supposed to meet Chris Murphy." The bouffant wearing, rouged woman gave her a big smile and said, "One minute honey. I think she's still getting ready." Her cackle echoed off the walls as she punched in an extension and in a sing-song voice said, "She's here."
Leah nervously ran a hand through the long, wavy blonde hair she had given up on straightening, and pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose. Her new outfit, tight black jeans, with a tight, low-cut black blouse that showed just the right amount of cleavage above her black lace bra made her feel sexy and a little wanton.
The station door opened and Chris, with her short blonde hair and fantastically broad shoulders stepped out into the sunlight. Her blue jeans hugged her clearly muscled thighs and a tight black t-shirt her thick arms. Her heavy black boots were a perfect complement to the rest of her. Leah swallowed hard and hoped she didn't faint right at Chris's feet. Or, at least if she did, she woke up naked and being given CPR.
They laughed and talked like old friends as they drove, learning about one another in a relaxed manner. Leah kept sneaking glances at Chris's large, calloused hands resting easily on her knees.
"So, where do you want to go for lunch? I've been talking so much I didn't even think about where we were headed," Leah admitted, blushing.
"Is Italian okay?" Chris asked, not wanting to seem pushy. "There's a great little restaurant down Pike Street, with a great view of the canal."
Leah nodded and drove happily toward one of her favourite restaurants.
Once seated in the dimly lit little café, with its checked table cloths and votive candles, Leah began to get nervous. What if this wasn't a date after all? What if Chris was just being nice to her after the traumatic evening she had?
She looked up from the menu to find Chris staring at her intently. She watched as Chris reached across and, picking up her hand, drew her lips gently against Leah's knuckles. She never lost eye contact, and the look in them was clear.
Yup, it's a date.
"Maybe we could have dessert after?" Chris asked, with her meaning clear in the purr of her voice and the way her eyes travelled over Leah's exposed cleavage.
Leah nodded, mesmerized by the feel of Chris's soft lips as she turned her hand over and began to kiss her palm. Once again she was left speechless.
"Would you like to go now?" Chris asked softly.
Leah grabbed her keys off the table, took Chris's hand and yanked her out of the restaurant, desperately searching for something witty to say, but feeling only the flaming heat between her thighs and the aching in her lace covered breasts.
On the ride back to her place, Chris traced lazy circles on Leah's thigh, then leaned over and nibbled on her earlobe. It took all of her concentration not to drive off the road. Or, even better, to just pull over and go for it right there on the street.
As soon as they got out of the car, Chris pulled Leah tight against her muscular body, and she melted into the strong arms holding her. She groaned as Chris's mouth crushed her own, her tongue dancing deeply inside, making promises of the night to come, as Leah knew from their earlier conversation that neither of them had anywhere to be the next day.
They stumbled up the two stairs, and as Leah fumbled with the keys to her door, Chris stood behind her, her large hands cupping Leah's breasts and lightly playing over her increasingly hardening nipples. "I wanted you the moment I saw you in your bunny slippers," Chris whispered in her ear, and then tugged Leah's earlobe between her teeth. They fell in the front door, and between burning kisses Chris whispered, "Bedroom?" to which Leah answered by waving a finger in the general direction. She gasped when Chris scooped her up in her arms, and without breaking their kiss, carried her up the steps and into the dimly lit bedroom, where she lay her down on the black comforter and then covered her with her own hard body.
Chris's mouth trailed down Leah's neck, and over her silky cobalt blouse to the nipples poking through the fabric. She sucked them into her mouth, watching Leah's face as her back arched and she moaned. She sat up and gave the shirt a sharp tug, grinning as the buttons went flying and Leah's black lace bra was exposed. Chris took a breast in each hand, squeezing gently, rubbing them, caressing them until finally she heard what she wanted to hear.
"Chris, please. Oh, God, Chris, you're driving me crazy. Please."
Chris unbuttoned Leah's pants, yanked them off and threw them behind her head. Sliding her hands up Leah's soft calves and along the inside of her thighs, she looked into Leah's eyes and smiled, then dropped her head into the well trimmed nest of curls between Leah's legs, smiling again when she heard her moan.
She moved her tongue lightly over the engorged lips, stopping occasionally to flick her tongue over the swollen pink clit. Leah was gasping and bucking, and Chris wrapped her arms around Leah's thighs and began to fuck her with her tongue, moving in and out, deep and hard. Leah was nearly screaming by the time she moved up to her clit and sucked it hard into her mouth, moaning when Leah came in a hard gush almost instantly.
Chris rested her head against Leah's thigh as they both caught their breath. When she began to move back toward the hot, wet mound, Leah made a sound of protest and pulled on Chris's short hair, so that Chris had to move up and on top of Leah
Leah smiled through a sex haze and said, "Oh no. You too." Chris smirked and pulled her t-shirt over her head then pulled her pants off, and then peeling her sports bra and Calvin Klein boxers off as well revealing an amazingly muscular body, with a flat stomach and rock hard thighs. She lay down on Leah and began nibbling and sucking on her neck, while grinding down on her leg.
Reaching down, she slid two fingers inside Leah's wet centre while at the same time picking up her tempo as she rode Leah's leg, driving them both to deafening orgasms.
Collapsing on top of Leah, they lay there for a long time, drifting in and out of sleep, wrapped up against one another, neither feeling the need to talk. Leah slowly awakened to a warm wetness on her breast. She opened her eyes and found Chris sucking gently, rolling her nipple around in her mouth, teasing it with her teeth, and she groaned.
Suddenly, Chris tucked an arm under her and rolled, so that now Leah was on top. "Ride me," she said, and slid three fingers into Leah's tight, swollen pussy, trapping her hand between her own thigh and Leah's body. Leah rode, enjoying the control and the depth of Chris's hand inside her, while Chris's other hand twisted, pinched and tugged at her nipples. Chris watched as the beautiful woman sat astride her, her soft skin glowing and flushed, her breasts bouncing slightly with her movement, her hair flowing and mussed. She rode faster and harder, moaning and then scr
eaming as yet another orgasm crashed down on her, her back arched and her long hair tickling the inside of Chris's thighs as she tossed her head back.
Gasping for breath, she slowly lowered herself onto Chris, who shifted slightly so that the hand inside Leah was now resting against her own wet patch as well. She began to move slowly, rocking against her hand, moving it gently inside Leah who moaned quietly, nearly unconscious from the pleasure. With an increasing pace she rocked them both into one last orgasm, holding Leah tightly against her as they both cried out and collapsed in exhaustion.
Finally satiated, Leah glanced sleepily at Chris as they both drifted off and said, "So, does this mean I can keep your jacket?"
Chris pulled her close and said, "Why don't we talk about it over breakfast?"
Fluid
by Sammo
JIFFY LUBE! I adore Jiffy Lube and not just because anything that mentions lube gets my pulse racing and pussy clenching, but because Frankie works there. Frankie the grease monkey mechanic is the butch of my dreams.
Frankie has been changing my oil, checking my fluids and making sure my hoses are intact for the last nine months. Nine months, two weeks and three days, to be exact.
I'm a femme. I know that when I put the pedal down, the car moves forward. When I brake, the car stops. I know that I need to run it through the car wash occasionally, and how to pump my own gas. That's what I know about cars. The first time I went to get my oil changed, it was because my dad threatened to stop paying half of my car payment. I had driven 11,000 miles and hadn't even thought that my brand new Nissan Sentra might need service. It turns out all that stuff under the hood needs occasional attention. Who knew?
So, I drove to the Jiffy Lube on the corner of Franklin and Lincoln. (Our town likes dead white guys.) And that's when I saw the butchest of the butch. When she walked over to the car with clipboard in hand, muscular arms straining her Jiffy Lube shirt and oil on her cheek, I cursed myself for not reading the drivers manual and discovering a car needed an oil change every 3,000 miles. I could have been here twice already!
She flashed me a big smile, her white teeth standing out against the grime on her face. I took in the "Frankie" patch on her pinstriped mechanic shirt, her baggy black "Dickie's" pants and steel toe boots and my heart threatened to lurch out of my chest. Her spiky blonde hair had streaks of what I figured must be grease from dragging her hand through her hair as she spoke to me.
"Oil change?" she asked in a Janis Joplin voice.
"Yes."
"We do a full service which includes--"
"Yes." Smooth Hannah, real smooth.
"Checking the coolant, checking tire press--"
"Yes." Oh, could I be any more fucking articulate?
Frankie smiled again.
"Hop out and I'll take it from here. You can sit in the waiting room until I bring the paperwork in. I should be done in about a half hour. There's free wireless internet connection, "she said, giving me a wink and a grin.
I stumbled out of the car in my pink, three inch high-heeled sandals.
I stepped into the office feeling like an idiot. It's not like I haven't seen a butchie before. I have. Many of them. Shit, I've even slept with a few of them. Not as many as I would like, but still, I'm no newbie!
When I drove up to the Jiffy Lube entrance this evening, (for the fifth time in two months) a short man with a severely receding hairline headed my way with the requisite clipboard.
"No fucking way," I mumble, about ready to careen past him and out of the side entrance, when I'm saved by a deep, scratchy, come-give-it-up-kind of voice from the office.
"I got this one, Gary. If you want to check the Escort it should be pretty much done, only the paperwork's left."
"Sure thing, Frankie."
Frankie strutted over to me, feral grin in place.
"Oil change?" she asked. Her eyes showed her amusement, although she was evidently too polite to laugh at me directly.
Fuck. I was busted. It hadn't even been three weeks since my last oil change. I thought fast.
"My air conditioner's on the fritz."
"The fritz, huh? Well, we can't have that. We're closing in about 45 minutes though, so if it's just a quick fix I can take care of it now, but if it's a big deal you'll have to come back."
"No problem," I responded too quickly. "Should I wait in the office?"
She shook her gorgeous spiky-haired head. "Office is closing. I'm afraid you'll have to hang out here by the pit. Make sure to stay to the side though. I wouldn't want you getting lube on your pretty dress." Her soft grey eyes wandered up and down my latest acquisition from Old Navy.
Oh. My. Fucking. God. OH MY FUCKING GOD! I resisted the temptation to yell that I wanted lube on my dress, settling instead for an understanding smile. I clenched my thighs together to stop the pounding in my clit.
How can she do that? One mention of the word "lube" and I'm a dizzy, wet wreck. I leaned my shoulder against the wall and attempted to read a poster about transmission fluid, differential fluid, power steering fluid and windshield washer fluid, all the time trying not to think about my own fluid, which threatened to spill down my legs at any moment.
I watched as Frankie headed down the steel steps into the pit. She spent at least twenty minutes banging and clanking in the pit, during which time I tried not to think about her muscular arms and hoped she hadn't discovered that my air conditioner story was a phony. I watched as it grew darker outside and soon I was the only customer left.
Gary popped his head into the bay and shouted, "You gonna lock up, Frankie?"
"Yeah, I got it," she yelled from the shadowy automotive depths. "I just need five more minutes with this Nissan and then I'm done."
"Good night," he said, and let the metal door clank hard into place behind him.
Another few minutes passed before I saw Frankie emerge from the pit.
"Okay," she said, "There's no problem with your air conditioner."
I felt myself flush. I should have just worn a sign around my neck that said PLEASE FUCK ME!
"However," she continued, "You seem to have a leak."
I looked at her dumbfounded. Could she really see my inner thighs from the pit?
"Excuse me?" I asked in my best Marilyn Monroe voice.
"You have a small problem with the valve cover gasket. It's leaking oil onto the exhaust manifold. Your car is still under warranty right? You should take it back to your dealer and have them take care of it. It shouldn't have this problem with such low mileage, but it's an easy fix."
"It's got a leak?" I asked idiotically.
"Yeah, the valve cov-- Look, why don't you come down with me and I'll show you."
I didn't answer. I was stuck on the words "come down." I looked closely at Frankie who was grinning evocatively. Oh yeah, I'll come down.
When we got into the pit I took in the variety of boxes lining the work benches and shelves. There was a puddle of black liquid on the floor and dirty rags strewn all over the place.
Frankie looked me up and down, her eyes traveling slowly from my painted toenails to my painted lips. The hunger in her gaze made me blush and then without warning she was on me, her lips claming mine. Her tongue thrust inside and I moaned into her. She took that as her cue. She pressed her lower half into me and I groaned. Fuck me, she packs, and at work no less. I ran my hand down her inner thigh. She was packing a hard cock, one well concealed by her baggy Dickie's.
I rapidly unzipped her and reached into her boxers, fondling her cock. Frankie grabbed the back of my head and pulled me harder to her, screwing my mouth with her tongue. Oh my. It was all moving so fast and yet not fast enough. My lonely nights of rubbing the pillow between my legs and dreaming about how her lips would feel against my distended clit were catching up fast. Already the reality was proving way better than my dirtiest fantasy.
She planted her hands against my ass and I knew then that my dress was ruined. And I so didn't care. She thrust against me, her bulg
e both rigid and soft at the same time.
"You like?" she asked.
I didn't answer. I moved my hand up and down her shaft, slowly jerking her off.
"Suck me," she whispered.
The wetness flowed from my pussy, seeping into my panties as she gently pushed my head down.
"Suck me," she repeated, her demanding hands pushing down on my spaghetti-strapped shoulders.
I lifted my dress above my knees and knelt on the black, slippery floor. Slowly I released her chocolate colored cock from the boxers and looked up at her.
"Now." She grunted as I touched the tip of my tongue to the head of her cock. Her hips thrust slowly and I opened my mouth to take in more. The cyber-skin, silky and stiff, rested against my tongue. I gently curled my lips around her and pulled her deeper into my mouth.
"Fuck yeah. Suck harder."
I felt her pelvis push a little faster and I drew her stiff rod deeper into my mouth, letting my pink lipstick smear along the faux veins.
My clit was pulsating against the cotton of my panties. Juices flowed, in danger of dripping onto the floor at any minute, mixing white with black.
I increased my speed and took the whole of her cock deep into my mouth, giving her head, making her eyes roll and her hands grip my head like a vise.
Suddenly, she pulled me up by my hair and slammed me against the work bench, lifting me onto it and pulling up my dress at the same time. Frankie reached between my thighs and tore my panties completely off, discarding them somewhere on the greasy floor. Without skipping a beat she lowered her head and buried it between my thighs, her tongue plunging in and out of my cunt. She wasn't gentle, she wasn't tender; she was primal. She fucked me with her tongue until I was dizzy.
I leaned back and braced myself with one hand, while the other reached into my bra and toyed with my tits. They were swollen and heavy and my nipples ached. I caught one of the rigid peaks between two fingers and slowly tugged. More juices flowed into Frankie's mouth as I roughly handled my nipples. I needed something bigger, something harder.
Blue Collar Lesbian Erotica Page 4