Girl Crazy

by Sacchi Green

  “Thirsty?” she asked, holding out a partially frozen liter-sized bottle of water. “I’ve got power bars, too.”

  “Always prepared,” I muttered, taking the water. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a beer in there. Or a bottle of tequila?”

  She laughed and gave me a one-armed hug as she chugged from another water bottle. “You’re so cute. Such a city girl.”

  Despite the grungy state we were in, she kissed me. I tasted the cold of the water and the slight gritty texture of mud that was smeared on both our mouths. I pulled away and wiped my mouth with an even dirtier hand. “Yes. City girl. City girl needs shower before she makes out.”

  “No running water out here, but I think I can help.” She pulled a large barrel-shaped thermos from the back of the Jeep. “Strip down. I’ll give you a bath.”

  “Are you nuts?” I looked around. “I’m not taking my clothes off out here.”

  Becky laughed again. “Fine. If you won’t, I will.”

  She set the thermos of water on the ground and quickly stripped out of her denim cutoffs and T-shirt. Her underwear, a simple white cotton thong, was the last to go. She looked incongruous standing there next to the muddy Jeep wearing only a pair of sneakers, with mud splatters marking her body like tan lines. Incongruous—and sexy as hell.

  “Well?” She gestured toward the water jug. “Want to get cleaned up or want to stay muddy?”

  What I wanted, quite suddenly, was to kiss her again. I quickly pressed her up against the Jeep, pulling her sun-warmed body against mine as I kissed her. I could still taste the mud, but the taste seemed like a part of her now, this earth-goddess chick of mine. She hooked her leg around my hip and pulled me into her, kissing me hard. I could tell by the way she was grinding against me that she was as hot as I was.

  “Let’s go home,” I murmured against her open mouth.

  Becky had other ideas. “Get naked.”

  “No.”

  She reached between us, palming my crotch. “C’mon. I’ll spread the blanket out, and we’ll fuck like bunnies.”

  The idea was tempting, even to a city girl like me. I thrust my pelvis at her, tweaking her dark nipples. “I’m filthy.”

  “So am I.”

  She had a point. I was too hot to argue anymore. Within moments, my clothes were piled on top of hers. I ran a hand through my short hair, feeling the drying mud that had caked it into spikes. I felt like something out of National Geographic, only in Born sandals, but it no longer seemed to matter. Becky was spreading the blanket out on the ground, teasing me as she bent over.

  “Want to clean up now—or later?” she asked, a little breathless.

  I eyed her, taking in her lean, tan body. “Later. It looks like all my favorite parts are mud-free.”

  She giggled as I tumbled her down onto the blanket. She wrapped her legs around my hips and pushed her pussy against me. She felt warm and smelled earthy, and I could feel myself responding to her. I anchored my hands under her ass and ground against her, lining my crotch up against her pussy. The hard ground was unyielding against my elbows and knees, but Becky’s body felt too damned good to complain.

  She moved against me, thrusting up so hard I knew we’d both have bruises to show for it. I leaned down and sucked one dark nipple into my mouth, savoring the silky, sweaty taste of her skin. She moaned and clutched at my head as I sucked harder. I moved to the other nipple and gave it the same rough treatment, knowing it would drive her higher.

  I shifted, moving one hand from under her to cup her pussy. She was lean and angular everywhere else, but here she was lush and soft, liquid heat coating my palm as I slid two fingers inside her. She gasped and arched off the blanket, and my fingers went deeper.

  “Oh yeah,” she moaned. “Fuck me, Kate.”

  And I did. Moving so that I was kneeling above her, I slowly withdrew my fingers and pushed them back inside her, again and again, until my entire hand was coated in her wetness. She spread her thighs wide, with her knees bent, and I loved the way her body opened to me. She gripped the blanket in her hands as she thrust up to meet my fingers. Her soft whimpers deepened to guttural moans as I stroked her fast and hard, her pussy tight around my fingers. She came quickly, clenching her thighs around my hand and pulling her knees to her chest. Completely still, the only thing I could feel was the quiver deep in her cunt that was almost like a heartbeat against my fingertips.

  “That’s it,” I said, as I coaxed her through her orgasm. “Come for me, baby.”

  Her moans tapered away to soft gasps. I slowly withdrew my fingers, smiling at her. Quicker than I would have expected postorgasm, she grabbed me and flipped me over onto my back. I groaned as my shoulder blades came into contact with the hard ground, but I didn’t dissuade her.

  “My turn,” she said, a wicked gleam in her green eyes.

  She shimmied down my body until she lay between my spread legs. Then she opened my pussy with her fingers, and I felt the firm tip of her tongue against my clit. That one small sensation nearly brought me off the ground. I waited, expecting more, but that was all she was offering. Just the tip of her tongue on the tip of my clit.

  Groaning in frustration, I reached out to find her mud-caked braids and gave them a tug. “More,” I demanded.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  She ran her fingertips along the insides of my thighs. “But we’re outside,” she teased. “What if someone sees us?”

  I nearly growled. “I don’t care. Lick me. Now.”

  “Demanding wench.”

  I gave her braids another tug. “You have no idea.”

  I felt the tip of her tongue again, circling around my clit, dipping into my pussy, tasting my lips. I wriggled against her evasive tongue, craving so much more. The sun felt hot against my naked body, while the smell of mud and wildflowers was overpowered by the scent of sex. I tilted my hips up and found home. Becky slid her tongue inside my pussy and then lapped at my clit with broad, shiver-inducing strokes. I groaned and rocked against her tongue, her braids still clenched in my hands like reins.

  She moaned open-mouthed against my pussy and I trembled, not only from the sensation of the vibrations through my sensitive clit, but at the thought that going down on me turned her on. Hot tears pricked my eyes suddenly, some well of emotion opening up as I rode her mouth. I was close, so close, and she somehow sensed it because she sucked my clit between her lips and flicked it with the tip of her tongue. One, two, three and I was coming into her mouth in a gush of wetness. I heard someone scream and realized it was me, my voice a wild wail as I rocked against the source of my intense pleasure.

  She slipped her tongue inside my pussy again, her upper lip pressing against my quivering clit as my body tensed with waves of pleasure. I closed my eyes, feeling the tears trickle out while physical pleasure combined with an emotional release so intense it seemed as if I would never stop coming.

  Finally, with every muscle in my body exhausted from the effort, I gasped, “Stop, stop! I can’t take any more.”

  She stopped moving her mouth against me, but didn’t pull away—probably because I still clung to her hair, which had come undone in my hands. With her mouth resting against my still-throbbing pussy, I stared up into blue, blue sky that seemed so much closer than I remembered.

  I sighed as I released my death grip on her hair. She wriggled up beside me on the narrow blanket and grinned. “That was nice,” she said simply.

  “Your mouth is all wet.” I leaned over and kissed her, tasting myself more than the mud that still flaked on her cheeks. “And you taste like me.”

  She ran her tongue over her shiny lips and giggled. “You should see the blanket. You’ve got a mud puddle under you.”

  “If you’d told me that was going to happen, I would have come mudding with you a long time ago.” I wrapped my arms around her and held her close, the combined scent of sex and mud forever burned into my memory in the best possible way. “I could get used to this ou
tdoorsy stuff.”

  Sighing contentedly, she nuzzled against my neck. “It’s all in how it’s presented.”

  She was absolutely right.

  WINE-DARK KISSES

  Catherine Lundoff

  I knew what Janeece’s lips would taste like, even back before I kissed her for the first time or had anything to compare them to except what I imagined.

  We were the only women of color in our nine A.M. history class, both of us mixed race or whatever they’re calling it now. My parents weren’t big on terminology. It took me years to get my mom to even admit that I was adopted, and then I couldn’t get much more than that out of her.

  It wasn’t like I didn’t know I was different. I didn’t look like anyone else at my school in the town where I grew up, and as near as I could tell, I didn’t think like them either. I decided to be the only goth in town, for one thing. And I broke up with the most popular guy in school just before prom for another. All of my friends and most of my enemies thought I was crazy. I had plenty of the latter.

  They were probably right. I didn’t know why I had done it either, at least not until my first period history class at State.

  “Hi. Looks like it’s just you and me, girlfriend.”

  The word voluptuous had only been a polite way to say fat as far as I was concerned, until that morning. The girl who sat down next to me wore clothes that strained at her curves, hugged and revealed her breasts, her thighs. Just looking at her made me shiver all over, deep down inside.

  I sat there, all black eyeliner and metal studs and black clothes, and said the first dumb thing that popped into my head. “Just you and me?” It was better than sitting there with my mouth open. Right then, I wanted anything but for it to be just her and me. The thought made me squirm with sheer terror.

  The other girl looked me over as a slow smile parted her full lips. “You auditioning for a Marilyn Manson video?” She held out a hand at my scowl. “I’m Janeece. And yes, I’m always in your face.”

  I thought about telling her to fuck off and get her disturbing body away from me. But instead I took her hand, carefully as if it were a snake that might bite me, and responded, “Ingrid Peterson.” I waited for the reaction that always followed.

  Janeece gave me a long, considering stare. “Huh,” was the only thing she said.

  Then class started and we didn’t talk again until it was over. By then I was watching her from the corner of my eye, entranced, captivated, horrified. It wasn’t like I’d never had weird feelings about other girls before, but I’d always chalked it up to being a misfit. Here, I could remake myself and leave all the stuff I didn’t like behind me, back in the small town where I grew up. And yet those stupid weird feelings were still there.

  Janeece turned around as though she could hear my thoughts. “Got another class. See you on Wednesday, Ingrid.” She managed to say my name like it wasn’t a strange taste on her full lips, and I thought that I could listen to her say my name a whole lot more. I nodded, watched her walk away, and imagined…something. I didn’t know what, really, I just knew that watching her move made me wetter than the most popular guy in high school ever had.

  It was like that seeing her walk in on Wednesday morning, too. Here it was only our second full week of college and she was nodding and saying hi to a couple of people on her way over to me. Somehow it figured that she’d already made friends. I had managed to meet absolutely no one except my roommate. And Janeece. My stomach did a slow, leisurely flip.

  We had a few minutes to kill so she asked the question I knew was coming—except it wasn’t the one I expected. “You want to grab a coffee after class, Ingrid?”

  I nodded, not trusting whatever would worm its way out of my black-lipstick-covered mouth. I have no idea what the professor said after that. If it turned up on an exam, I was doomed, but there was no way I could bring myself to care. I was having coffee with Janeece.

  The glow lasted right up until I got my espresso and sat down across from her. She glanced at what I was having and grinned. “It suits you,” was all she said. She sipped her cappuccino before she launched into small talk. I went along for the ride because I wanted to know more about her but didn’t know how to get there without help.

  Finally, she started to ask what I knew she’d ask eventually. “So, this is none of my business…”

  “Yes, I’m adopted. No, I don’t really know what I am. And no, I don’t care.” I crossed my arms over my black T-shirt and gave her my most ferocious scowl.

  “I was going to ask if you had a boyfriend. Girlfriend. Whatever. But okay. I’ve got other friends who are transracial adoptees. Wherever you’re at is cool by me.” She leaned back and took another sip from her coffee. “You want to talk about it?”

  I think that might have been when I fell into something like love. I spent a few seconds staring at her with my mouth open before it all started pouring out of me. Everything I wanted to tell someone who’d even kind of understand what it was like being the only one like me for years and years. I even told her about how my mom cried when she finally admitted I was adopted. And how my dad told me I was the light of their lives. Right before he asked me to never mention it again. I figured I could go nuts wondering where I’d come from and what my background was, or I could roll with it.

  And I had, right up until now. Janeece’s skin was darker than mine but not by much. Her hair was curly while mine was long and black and straight, and my eyes tilted up a lot more than hers did. Apart from that, it was like I had a mirror to look at, sort of. No more comparisons with white, freckled skin and long blonde hair. It was a beautiful moment.

  She seemed to get it too, which made it all worthwhile. I talked until I ran out of words. It felt like forever but probably didn’t go on for more than twenty minutes. Then this guy showed up just as I stopped talking. A gigantic god of a guy, the kind they put on college recruitment brochures. “Hi baby.” He leaned over and kissed Janeece. “I’m just grabbing a coffee before class.”

  Janeece looked up at him and glowed. I wanted to crawl away under a big rock, dragging my crush and my ego and my words with me. Then she remembered I was there. “Hey Ingrid, this is Tony.” She stopped there like that was all that needed to be said.

  I looked up at the cocoa-colored hand being held out to me like I might bite it. Fortunately, someone who wasn’t me took over and shook it gingerly instead of chomping down. “Hi. I should probably get going. See you Friday, Janeece?” Whoever that other person was got me the hell out of there to someplace quiet where I could snivel in peace. I cried my eyes out in a deserted bathroom for about ten minutes and then I was done. Sure, I might think about her again from time to time when I was getting myself off under the blankets at night. But I was done. I knew that was it.

  Until Friday rolled around. This time when she walked into class, I was nonchalant. I even picked up my phone and made it look like I was texting as she dropped into the seat next to me. “Hey, Ingrid. Sorry we didn’t get to finish talking the other day. I didn’t realize you had another class then.” For the first time, Janeece sounded uncertain.

  I shrugged, determined to seem like I didn’t care. “So how long you been with that guy? What’s his name again? Tony?”

  Janeece raised one delicate eyebrow. “Nearly a year. We met before I got here, back when I was a senior and he was a freshman at State.”

  “Yeah? He got a thing for jailbait?” It was the bitchiest thing I could think of to say, and I would have said anything to push her away right then.

  It looked like it was going to work. Janeece scowled at me, and those luscious lips parted to let me have it just as the T.A. called our attention to the front of the room. “Later,” she mouthed at me. And that was that. Another history class I had no memory of. Good thing I was getting better at taking notes in a fog.

  Class ended way too soon. Janeece whipped around in her seat and glared at me. “I don’t know why you’re being such a bitch about Tony. It’s not
like you even know him. Or me either.” She gathered her stuff, throwing it into her bag at full force.

  I sat there until she actually stood up to walk out of my life, just sat there looking at her and feeling my heart race. Then I dragged some words up from somewhere in my little reptile brain. “Look, I’m sorry. It just slipped out. I wasn’t thinking.” Score one for social skills.

  Janeece looked over at me, still scowling. I tried to look contrite, not like that was easy while wearing black lipstick and a spiked wristband. “Well…okay,” she said finally, and my heart started beating again. Meantime, I started spinning up a new fantasy. After all, just because she had a boyfriend didn’t mean that chicks were totally out of the question—even one like me.

  That was what triggered the next thing out of my mouth. “Wanna hang this weekend? You know, maybe study or go to a movie or something?” I said it in my tough-girl voice. No way was I going all romance novel and After-School Special in front of her. No matter how much I wanted to.

  Janeece looked like she was thinking about it, but I think she’d already decided what she was going to say. “Could. How about coffee on Saturday? Here’s my number.” Then she met my eyes, and I just melted inside. Hell, all over my chair. For one horrible moment, I thought I was dripping down to puddle on the lecture room floor. Somehow I got through exchanging phone numbers and said ’bye until the next day. Somehow I got to my next class, and then my part-time job at the mall to work my shift.

  I suppose I must have slept too, but the next thing I can remember is sitting across the table from Janeece at some cheap greasy spoon near the U. I watched every sliver of food go into her mouth and wished that it could be me that those lips closed around. I had it bad. But I don’t think she knew then, not really. She just reveled in the attention and tried to get me to talk more.