Best Lesbian Erotica 2005

by Tristan Taormino

  At that moment she looked up and I caught her eye. I knew she was horny, too. She smiled that languid smile of hers and gestured for me to meet her by the open door. I made my way downstairs to her, grateful for the fresh air from the cooling October night.

  “I’ve got fifteen minutes,” I said, running my hand down her strong, sweaty back.

  “Come with me, baby.” She grabbed my hand and led me quickly down the dim, club-lit corridor leading to the restrooms. A couple of gay boys passed us and cooed, “Love the show!” I smiled thank you and we both walked faster, searching out a quiet corner. My girl used to bartend in this complex and knew every nook and cranny. She pulled me down a blind corridor that stopped with a single locked door and pushed me firmly against the wall. We were alone in the humid dark, the music from the next room muffled-loud and bass-y. I felt her breath on my neck, raising the tiny hairs in anticipation.

  “You’re all hot, baby. Why is that?” She touched my cheek. “You need to step outdoors?” She slid her hand over my clit and squeezed, just a little. Not enough. I let out a soft moan. “Or you need something else?” She squeezed again, dragging her fingers firmly back and forth over my aching cunt. I twitched, a spasm of pleasure running through my swollen clit.

  “We don’t have long, baby. What am I going to do with you in ten minutes?”

  “Fuck me.” I looked straight into her eyes, challenging her. “Fuck me!” I hissed, desperate for her cock. I hadn’t felt her crotch but I was sure she was packing tonight. She had that raw air about her when she was harnessed up in public.

  “Oh, that’s what you’d like, isn’t it? That’s what you want. But you get a lot of what you want so maybe you’ll just have to wait for it. Maybe tomorrow, baby.”

  She undid the faux mountaineering clip at the top of my trousers and unzipped me all the way down. She shoved her hand, roughly, inside my underwear and I was ready for her—hot, swollen, and slick with juice. Her middle finger found my straining clit easily and stroked me right there, right on my hard little nub, over and over; rubbing, circling, pushing her finger back toward my cunt, teasing me. I was breathing hard, rasping, unconcerned that we might be discovered. That just made it hotter.

  And then her finger slipped into my wet cunt. I caught my breath.

  “Oh baby, you feel so good,” she whispered in my ear. I clenched my muscles around her finger and she shuddered. “All right, baby, if that’s what you want, that’s what you get. You want me to fuck you? Huh? Is that what you want?”

  I nodded, coyly. I wouldn’t show triumph. She always gave me what I wanted but sometimes she made me wait if I was too presumptuous. It was a game we played, a game with a delicate balance. Her finger slid in and out of my pussy, causing the most delicious, desperate pleasure. But I wanted more of her. I wanted her cock. The cock she bought for me. The cock she knew would fit me good, just that little bit too big. The kind of cock I’d have to be dripping for.

  She slid my tight nylon trousers down to my ankles. My oversized platform boots wouldn’t allow me to remove them. I had no choice but to squat down a little, parting my legs from the knees, my feet firmly held together. I heard her zipper coming down and watched with panting need as her jeans dropped to her ankles and her boxers quickly followed. I could have begged, could have broken my rule about begging, but she saw it in my eyes and that was enough for her. She pinned me to the wall and slammed her dick into me. Hard, up to the hilt. A deep cry escaped me as I felt the length of her desire filling me. She was never this quick, but I couldn’t wait any longer and she knew it. She always read me with precision.

  “Is this what you wanted, baby?” Her voice was gravelly in my ear. She thrust into me again, hard. “Is it? My stiff dick inside you? That’s what you’ve been needing all day, isn’t it, baby?” She thrust into me again and again as she spoke, her cock slick with my juice as she plumbed my depths, driving it into and out of me with dizzying, rhythmic perfection. Every time she thrust into me, the harness slammed into my clit, nudging upward, rubbing it bottom up just the way I liked it. I could make only small movements to meet her thrusts; she had me pinned to the wall and I was trapped by my trousers, bunched and tight around my ankles. I felt a pinch in my back and slithered my hand around to smooth the back of my halter neck. I felt a wire, a long thin wire running the length of my back.

  At that moment I realized that my radio mike was still on, attached to the back of my trousers on the floor around my ankles. The tiny microphone was still clipped to my bra and it was live. Through the fog of my cunt-driven brain I realized with a jolt that George could be listening. If any noise had been loud enough he would have heard it, even with his headphones around his neck. I couldn’t stop us, though, couldn’t bear to break the moment to reach down and find the off switch on the radio mike pack. As my girl’s dick thrust into me again with force, a delicious thought ran through my mind: Maybe he was getting off on this, too. That’s kinda cool, spreading the fun around. I wasn’t interested in touching him but the thought of him touching himself while me and my girl fucked made me hornier, wetter, hungrier. My cunt started to clutch and grab, milking my girl’s cock.

  I felt taken over by her, by my own desire, and by the thought of a voyeur. I was panting like a dog, hard, fast, and guttural. She was grunting from deep in her guts as she fucked me hard and it was this that finished me off. My orgasm rocketed out of my body like a Guy Fawkes display. I cried out as I bucked and twisted on her shaft. She collapsed against me for a moment to feel my spasms before slowly and gently pulling out of me. We looked at each other for a moment, with a mixture of love and satiety.

  “Fuck, twenty minutes! I only had twenty minutes. I must be late!” I pulled my trousers up, zipped and clipped, and kissed her squarely on her hot mouth as she slipped her cock back inside her trousers.

  “Come and find me when you’re finished, baby. I’ll be dancing.” She turned to walk away, then turned back. “By the way, your mike’s on.” She smirked at me and began sauntering back toward the dance floor. She knew! She knew and she didn’t say anything. It made me want her all over again. Our chemistry was explosive, but even if I’d been reveling rather than working there would have been no more, not just yet. She liked to build it up, she liked to tease herself. She’d take one slowly built up orgasm for every four of mine. That was the way she liked it. I watched her sexy ass moving as she walked away from me, then I broke into a run to reach the end of the complex.

  Half an hour had passed. I reached our meeting point and looked first at Dave. At least my panting could be attributed to the running.

  “You’re late,” said Dave, slightly annoyed. “Ten minutes late. Time is money, y’know, especially for camera crew.”

  “I’m sorry, Dave. There was a long line at the bar.”

  “Well, I’ll let it go this time. I got time for an extra beer, and George got a couple of smokes. You look a little flushed. You ought to have rested.”

  “Nah, I had a quick dance, Dave. It keeps me hyped.”

  “All right, let’s get set up for vox pops.”

  I looked at George. For someone who’d spent half an hour smoking by a gate on a cool evening, he was looking pretty warm and relaxed. His hair also seemed a little sweaty on the ends, like he’d recently been in a hot, enclosed space. I looked at his headphones. They were around his neck as before, but I could see beads of sweat on the earpieces, glistening in the lights from the event complex. I smiled at the thought, hoping he’d had a good time on me.

  Blue Suede Shoes

  Kristina Wright

  The invitation to my best friend’s thirtieth birthday party had said, “Come as your idol.” So, there I was in Caroline’s living room, dressed in a skin-tight white dress that flowed around me like a cloud and flaunted my ample cleavage, sweating under a blond wig and more makeup than I’d ever worn in my life.

  “Hey, girl, you look incredible!” Caroline screeched from across the room. She was dolled up in some
sort of belly dancer’s costume that winked and sparkled with every move she made. I had a huge crush on Caroline once upon a time. Her being straight didn’t much matter to me. I valued her friendship too much to make a play for her even if she had liked girls.

  “Let me guess—Cher, circa 1975?” I asked.

  She laughed and her costumed twinkled. Caroline’s cleavage made me look like a boy and I grinned appreciatively. A girl can look, can’t she?

  “No, Mata Hari.”

  I arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Odd choice of idol material.”

  “She knew how to handle men.” Did I mention Caroline was going through a bad breakup? I kept telling her she needed to give up men, but she wouldn’t listen. Instead, she kept trading one jerk for another. Speaking of which, I watched Caroline practically swoon as a James Dean look-alike sauntered by with a boyish smirk.

  “Good point. Now, could you point me in the direction of the beverage table?” I fanned myself. “I’m dying in this crowd.”

  Caroline pushed me toward the dining room where two guys wearing Jordan jerseys were tapping a keg.

  “Thanks,” I called over my shoulder as Caroline sashayed off toward Jimmy Dean.

  I grabbed a plastic cup and thrust it toward the Jordan twins. “Fill ’er up,” I said.

  Jordan #1 filled my cup while Jordan #2 eyed my dress, his gaze hovering around my tits. I waved him away. “You’re not my type, Mikey.”

  “How about me, darlin’?”

  I turned toward the husky voice and fell in love. The brunette wasn’t wearing a wig and her jet-black hair was slicked back in a sexy pompadour. She’d painted sideburns on her sculpted cheeks, but the full lips and smoky eyes weren’t fakes. The leather jacket and black pants fit her like a second skin, and the guitar slung over her shoulder looked like a beloved friend rather than a prop.

  “I’d play in your band anytime,” I said with a grin and a swish of my skirt.

  She smirked. “I’m looking for groupies, not band members, sweetheart.”

  Caroline came up behind me and whirled me around. “You’ve got to meet this chick,” she said, gesturing at a cowgirl in chaps.

  “Whoa, horsey,” I said. “Who is she?”

  “Annie Oakley.” Caroline steered me across the room and I lost track of my leather babe.

  Annie turned out to be a bit confused about what she liked, so I wandered away after the third mention of her ex-husband’s dick. I had a cup of spiked punch in one hand and a plate of seven-layer bean dip in the other hand when I literally bumped into my new wet dream.

  “Hey!” She swung the guitar away from me in one smooth gesture as punch went flying. “Nice move, Norma Jean.”

  I blushed to the roots of my blond wig. “Oh god, I’m sorry.” I dabbed at her leather jacket with the corner of a napkin and got an amused grin for my efforts.

  “Easy, dollface. It’ll clean. My shoes, on the other hand….”

  Her voice trailed off as we both looked downward. She was black leather head to toe, but her shoes…oh, her shoes! Blue suede leather with square toes and chunky heels. They were shoes with an attitude to match their owner, only now they were splotchy in places from my punch.

  “Maybe if you take them off we can use some club soda on them.” I rolled my eyes. “Oh god, I just channeled my mother!”

  Her laugh was whiskey sexy. “She’d be so proud.” She tucked a finger in the halter top of my dress and tugged. “C’mon, I don’t care if you’re Marilyn or Martha, if you’re going to feel me up, let’s do it in private.”

  I didn’t think I could get any redder as she led me off to Caroline’s bedroom. I followed her into the master bath, feeling like I was in some sort of surreal suburban dream in which the studly rock star invades the housewife’s bedroom. Only I was no suburban housewife and my rock star was no stud.

  She lifted the guitar strap off her shoulder and propped the guitar against the door. Then she stripped off her leather jacket, revealing a black T-shirt that showed almost as much cleavage as my white dress did. “My shirt is soaked,” she said, but there was no anger in her voice. If anything, she sounded amused.

  “I’m sorry.” I wasn’t quite sure why she wanted me in here and I was doing my damnedest not to stare at her chest.

  She didn’t help matters by pulling the shirt off and standing there topless. Her tits were small and pert with nipples almost as dark as her hair. She grinned at my stunned expression.

  “Am I offending your delicate sensibilities?”

  I found my voice and said, “Hardly.”

  “Good.” She ran some water in the sink and tossed the shirt in.

  I leaned against the counter as she sat on the edge of the tub and tugged her shoes off. “What’s your name?” I asked, desperately needing to distract myself from her perky tits.

  “Call me El,” she said, dropping the shoes on the floor.

  “You’re kidding.”

  She arched a jet-black brow. “I never kid.”

  Whoever she was, she was getting to me. The vee of my halter was soaked with sweat and I was starting to think it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get undressed myself.

  El stood up and drained the water from the sink. She wrung her shirt out and hung it over the edge of the tub. “I think it survived. I’m not so sure about my blue suede shoes, though.”

  “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

  “They’re vintage. You can’t replace them,” she said.

  Despite her mild tone, I felt my temper spike. “Well, what the hell do you want me to do, then?”

  “Wanna be my groupie?”

  I couldn’t help it, her unaffected smirk made me laugh. “Is that a fair exchange? They’re one-of-a-kind, after all. They look expensive.”

  She took two steps forward and hooked her fingers in the vee of my halter. “And you look like a good fuck.”

  “It’s the dress,” I said breezily, though I felt anything but breezy.

  “Take it off and we’ll find out.”

  My smile faltered. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to fuck her, it wasn’t even that I hadn’t had my share of party quickies before. I just wasn’t sure I was ready to rock-n-roll in Caroline’s bathroom, with the suburbs waiting just outside the door.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she asked, her callused finger caressing my cleavage. “I know you’re not Sandra Dee. Caroline told me a little about you, and she said you’d love me.”

  If she was trying to convince me with her husky drawl, she was going about it all wrong. “I’ve gotten a little more…selective in my old age,” I said.

  She pouted, her bottom lip full and sexy without a trace of lipstick. “I’m hurt.”

  “You’ll get over it.” I was starting to relax and enjoy this. “I’m sure you’ll find your next groupie right outside the door.”

  “But I want you,” she murmured, her hand caressing my tits through the silky white fabric. She tugged at a nipple when it hardened under her touch. “And I think you want me.”

  I licked my heavily lipsticked lips. “Who, me? Play with a bad-boy rocker like you?”

  She smirked, a little more confident now. “Yeah, babe. C’mon, take off this dress and show me your tits.”

  I laughed, but it was to cover my nervousness. Did I really want to get it on in Caroline’s bathroom with a woman who had jelled her hair into a ducktail?

  Yeah, actually, I did.

  I reached behind my neck to untie the halter of my dress. It fell, revealing those plastic shells that are supposed to lift and support the breasts without covering the nipples.

  “Yummy,” El said. She reached out and yanked the shells off my tits.

  “Damn!” I shrieked. “That hurt!”

  El leaned forward and kissed my open mouth hard, until I forgot the pain in my tits. She didn’t touch me with any other part of her body, and it was both strange and erotic as hell to feel only her mouth and tongue.

  Finally, she braced her hands on my
hips and pulled me closer. I moaned in her mouth as she tugged my dress down so that it pooled around my feet. She leaned back to look at me in my thigh-high stockings and white heels and whistled softly. “Whoa, babe. Sexy.”

  I couldn’t blush any brighter. “Thanks.”

  She braced one hand on my hip and leaned forward, running her tongue across my bottom lip. “You up for this?”

  It sounded like a challenge. I hadn’t exactly come to this party expecting to be picked up by an Elvis impersonator, but it beat the hell out of munching on bean dip and mini quiches.

  By way of answer, I leaned into her, which pressed out bodies together from chest to hips. Her nipples were as hard as mine and I rubbed against her like a cat. She moaned and it echoed off the bathroom walls, or maybe that was me echoing her. A few minutes of bump and grind combined with the heat of our bodies had us both slick with sweat. She sat on the toilet lid and pulled me down so that I straddled her leather-clad thigh. The heat of her body through her leather pants made my pussy tingle in anticipation.

  “You are the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long time,” she whispered against my neck as her hands teased and tormented my nipples. “A boy like me could fall hard.”

  She shifted me higher up so that my cunt was in close contact with her crotch. Close enough so that I could tell she was packing. Just the thought of what she might be able to do to me with what she was carrying around in her pants was enough to make me moan.

  She reached between my thighs and slid a long, callused finger inside me. “Naughty girl. You’re supposed to wear panties.”

  “Easy access,” I panted, and they were the last words I said for a while as she finger-fucked me to a delicious orgasm. I bit down hard on her shoulder to keep from screaming out loud and alerting Caroline and the rest of the mini-driving, car-pooling folks drinking punch and eating pinwheels just beyond the bathroom door.