When She Was Good

by Tristan Taormino

  My lips are glued to hers as if I’m using this kiss as a way to meld with her, to feel all that she’s feeling. To feel full and stretched, having the very core of you tapped by someone who understands what you are. I raise my legs higher so that I can feel Daddy’s denim-clad ones, and let my heels press into his ass. He grunts and gives a hard thrust that makes her moan into my mouth, practically gasping.

  “This toy feels good,” Daddy says approvingly, as he shifts. I see his hand clasp her shoulder before the hard thrusts come, her body pushing me into the bed with each one. Her face is buried in the curve of my shoulder, and I hear each grunt, each whimper and groan of pleasure. She’s whispering to herself how fucking good it feels, her fingers gripping me even harder. My lips seek out her neck, and I lick it before softly nibbling at her skin. She’s saying yes over and over again, and I feel her wriggle between my legs, probably trying to get more of him in her. Sometimes we can be too greedy.

  I can see the same thought in Daddy’s eyes. His hand disappears and I know he’s grabbing her hips. I feel her lift from me, just as I hear the soft crash of skin meeting jeans as he slams into her. She screams so loudly, my hand shoots out to cover her mouth, watching as she’s being pulled back onto my Daddy’s dick, unable to move on her own because of the grip he has on her. Daddy is fucking her like she’s a rag doll, her arms flailing about as he bounces her on his dick. He wraps an arm around her waist, holding her close as he continues to jab into her, and I can see her eyes roll back in her head. She suddenly shrieks, biting my hand, and I can feel her juices dripping on me as she cums.

  But Daddy doesn’t care. He continues fucking her, bent on using her for all she’s worth. He releases her, letting her fall back on me. His hand is in her hair, and he shoves her face over my breast. She doesn’t have to be told, and quickly sucks my nipple into her warm mouth, and I give a sigh. He lies over her and his lips hungrily meet mine. I push the cap and du-rag off his head, exposing the thin cornrows I braided earlier that day, and grip his head tightly, wanting his mouth against mine forever. His tongue glides over my teeth, teasing me, making me reach for it with my own, and as I catch it, sucking it deeply, he thrusts into her so hard she bites my nipple.

  After a few more thrusts, she cums again, sucking harder on my now sore nipple, but I don’t care, the only thing that matters is Daddy’s mouth on mine. When he finally breaks the kiss, he winks at me, before grabbing her hair and starting to fuck her faster. She’s on top of me, in a constant tremble, and I know she’s just about fucked out. But we know better. Toys know that it doesn’t end until they’re all used up, and Daddy’s not done playing. I see his hands reach for her nipples, and watch his dark fingers squeeze and pinch the pink nubs until they’re almost red and she’s hollering. His nails find her skin, and she breaks, unable to scream anymore, her body convulsing.

  When Daddy pulls out of her, he leans forward to kiss my forehead.

  “Get rid of her,” he tells me, before leaving the bed and going into the bathroom.

  It takes me a few minutes to get her on her feet and lead her to the guest room. I help her clean up and watch her fall into the big bed. She sleepily kisses my hand, licking each finger, trying to entice me to stay with her. Girls like us are always greedy, always ready to play. But I kiss her forehead and before too long, she’s falling asleep. In the morning Daddy will take her home.

  When I return to the bedroom Daddy’s on the bed, naked and ready for me. Like a good girl I settle between his spread legs, and kiss his hairy thighs, letting my tongue taste his salty skin. I work my way up, the smell of him leading me to where he wants me most. As my tongue finds him, wet and ready, he groans, his fingers in my hair, loosely playing with the strands. This is my reward. This is what I strive for; to touch Daddy in a way no one else is allowed to.

  I part him with my tongue, stroking him slowly. I find his hole, licking across it, toying with it before finding the hard and swollen nubbin that’s begging for my lips. As I gently suck it into my mouth, Daddy’s legs tense. I flick the tip of it with my tongue as I continue to slowly suck, feeling his hips rise and rotate. He’s saying filthy things, things only Daddies should say, his voice gruff and breathless. He’s telling me that I’m a filthy whore with whores for friends. He wants to fuck us all and use us all as toys. My hand is between my legs, furiously rubbing my clit; his words make me want to get fucked, to show him how much of a whore I’d be for him.

  I lick him slowly ’cause Daddy likes things slow. Daddy likes to cherish every movement his good girl makes. I flatten my tongue and give him one long lick, and he closes his thighs on my head. I fasten my lips around that little nerve and suck him hard, making his hips buck. His fingers in my hair are no longer nice, twisting and turning, pulling my face into him hard.

  “You gonna swallow it for Daddy?” he asks.

  I moan my approval and slowly bob my head, letting him feel my soft lips glide up and down on him. Daddy’s grinding hard into my face, his thighs squeezing tight, blocking out everything but him. All I can do is suck, until I hear the loud growl and feel him shoot, filling my mouth that’s so desperate for him, and then I quietly cum. I drink everything he has to give me, my tongue greedy and searching.

  After a few moments, Daddy pushes my head away, lovingly calls me his greedy slut and pulls me close. I settle in his arms, relaxing in the smell of sex that surrounds us. And once I feel his large hand finally settled and cupping my cunt, I sigh and allow myself to fall asleep.

  UNDONE

  Miel Rose

  There’s this woman I work with. She moves around with more confidence and self-possession than anyone I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I think it’s because she’s in her late forties, older than most of the people I hang out with. But who knows? Maybe she’s always been that way.

  She works in the bulk department at the grocery store I cashier for. I love to find excuses to sneak into the back and watch her, the muscles in her arms tensing as she hefts the fifty-pound bags of dry goods. She has this old-school butch feel, and in this town, old-school butches might as well be unicorns.

  After she got hired, my work clothes got a lot more interesting. My skirts got shorter, my jeans tighter—and this is really saying something. Plunging became the best adjective to describe the necklines of my tops. If the neckline was too high, I would just cut it lower. I started wearing more makeup to work, but I drew the line at heels after spending most of a shift barefoot when I decided it was more comfortable than standing eight hours in front of a cash register in platform sandals.

  I would watch her move around the store, her short graying hair tousled and messy like she’d just rolled out from between some girl’s thighs. She drove me crazy. My mind would start running in circles. Did she date femmes? Would she even recognize me as femme? Or would she think I was some young, freaky straight girl trying to fuck with her? She looked like the exact kind of trouble I liked, but outside packaging can be deceiving. How did I even know she was a top? Lord knows she inspired the bottom in me.

  I turned on my best flirt.

  At first, I don’t think she knew what to do with me. Then she started playing along, seeing what I’d do. When I didn’t run for the hills, but continued flirting shamelessly with her, she turned up the volume. We’d be alone in the back room and she’d start dirty talking me, nothing too nasty, just enough to make my breath catch, my cheeks burn. The way she looked at me made me want to get down on my knees before her, my wrists held together behind my back, and show her what a good bottom I could be.

  It was crazy making, wondering if she was going to make a move, if she would ever ask me out. Maybe she had a wife. Maybe she thought I was too young. Maybe she didn’t get hot for chubby girls. Maybe she didn’t get hot for femmes. The possibilities for rejection were endless in my head.

  Then came the night we were on inventory together and the third person working our shift called in sick. I almost pissed myself when I walked around to the back
of the store and saw her sitting on a stack of crates, smoking a cigarette. I always did inventory with the same two people, I hadn’t even bothered to check the schedule. I was totally unprepared to see her. She squinted at me through the smoke, looking me over like I was dessert on legs, like she wanted to devour me right there.

  Under her stare my aggressive flirty self dissolved like unstable ground out from under me. I said hi, and fumbled around my brain, finally adding something about getting to work, and walked past her into the building. I worked my ass a little extra, hoping she was looking.

  I made my way to the office desk in the back, getting my clipboard and inventory list together. I heard the sound of her boots behind me as she entered the building, slow and measured, echoing through the back room. I listened to her steps getting closer and my body started breaking out in goose bumps. She didn’t stop until she was right behind me. My hair was pinned up and I could feel her breath on my neck, smell the smoke from her cigarette. This woman had me undone and she hadn’t even touched me yet. My heart was beating hard and I was working to control my breathing.

  She leaned closer, whispering in my ear, “Well, sweetheart? You’ve been flirting viciously with me for months. You want to take this to the next level? Or do you want me to back off and we can start working?”

  She was being rather gentlemanly about it, not even implying that I was a cock tease. I didn’t know what to say, my heart was racing and my breathing wouldn’t slow down.

  I turned my head and looked at her over my shoulder, trying to let all the built-up want for her show in my eyes. She smiled at that, took hold of my shoulder and turned me around to face her. Her hand came up to stroke my jaw, her thumb tracing my lips. My eyes were locked to hers and I kissed her thumb, opening my mouth and sucking it in as far as it would go. Her eyes blazed and she moved her thumb gently in and out of my mouth. She was working me with kid gloves so far, treating me real soft and gentle, but I could feel the power building inside her, making her body tense.

  She took her thumb out of my mouth and spread my saliva back and forth over my lips.

  “That looks like consent to me, sugar, but I want to hear you say it.”

  “I want you,” I said. It just slipped out. I wasn’t feeling very eloquent.

  It seemed like enough though, because she smiled and said, “And what should I do with you, baby girl? Hey, by the way, how old are you anyway?”

  It was hard for me to remember my own name at that moment, but I answered her, dazed, “Twenty-five?”

  She whistled softly and said, “Damn, girl, I’m old enough to be your mother.” And then, “Actually, you’re younger than my daughter.”

  I was thrown off balance. I did not want to be thinking about this woman being my mother…maybe my daddy, but not my mother.

  “You have a kid?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too shocked.

  “Yeah, I didn’t raise her though. Gave her up for adoption. I was only fourteen when I had her.” I could sense everything she wasn’t saying in the way her body had pulled away slightly, the way she wouldn’t meet my eye. I turned her face toward me and kissed her softly on her mouth, letting her know that her having a kid older than I was didn’t stop me wanting her. She ran her hands over my hips, pulled me into her. I moaned into her mouth, I couldn’t help it. I was so turned on I felt shaky. I could feel my pussy dripping puddles into the crotch of my jeans.

  She broke the kiss and tilted my head back to get at my neck. She kissed me lightly, leaving a trail of moisture on my skin from her parted lips. Then she was at my ear, nuzzling me, whispering, “What do you want, sweetheart? What can I do for you?”

  I started blushing furiously. Where was the confident girl who had worked so hard to be able to say what she wanted? I couldn’t find her. I managed to whisper, “I want you to rough me up.”

  “Yeah?” she said. I could hear the edge of tension and excitement in her voice. “What does that mean to you, baby? Give me more.”

  “Ummmm,” was all that would come out of my mouth. My face was still hot and I bit my lip. Why did this woman make me so nervous? I looked down and noticed the wide leather belt she was wearing. I felt my pussy clench as the inspiration hit me.

  I slowly raised my eyes to hers.

  “What is it, girl? You can tell me.”

  I took a deep breath and blurted out, “You could hit me with your belt.”

  I felt like an idiot, but she smiled and leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. She said, “Are you going to let me fuck you too, or do you just want me to hurt you?”

  I wanted to spread my legs for her right there, show her how wet she was getting me. Instead, I tried to get a hold on myself and said, “No, I definitely want you to fuck me.” My voice was still shaky.

  “Are you going to be able to tell me if I do something you don’t like, or if you want me to stop? You want a special word or something?”

  I wanted this so bad and I wasn’t in the mood to pretend I didn’t. “No, I don’t need a safeword,” I said. “I’ll just tell you if I want you to stop.”

  “All right. Take off your pants.”

  My fingers trembled as I undid the fly of my jeans and wiggled them over my hips. I left my panties on, since I hadn’t been instructed otherwise, and I was sure there was a huge wet spot spreading up the front.

  Arms still across her chest, she looked me up and down. “Lean over that desk and stick your ass out for me.” I did as she said, pushing the papers and clipboards to the side. “Spread your legs wider.” I spread my legs as wide as they could go, my back arched. The air felt cold on the soaked crotch of my panties.

  I heard the leather of her boots creak as she pushed off from the wall to stand behind me. “Damn, this is a pretty picture.” She hooked her finger under the crotch of my panties and ran her knuckle up and down my slit. We moaned at the same time, hers a growl, mine a whimper in the back of my throat.

  I wanted more, I wanted her whole hand inside me, but she took her finger away. Sliding my panties down over my hips, she whistled again, low under her breath. I imagined what she was seeing, my bare ass up in the air, legs apart; my pussy spread open, exposed.

  I could hear her unbuckling her belt and sliding it slowly from the loops. My legs turned to jelly. I was glad I was lying down across this desk because I probably couldn’t have stood if I wanted to. She trailed the belt down my lower back, across the crack of my ass, the tip brushing my pussy lips. She brought it between my legs and rubbed it back and forth, getting the leather wet with my juices. She pulled it back and tapped it lightly against my thighs, making a wet sticky sound on impact.

  “All right, sweet thing. We’re going to start out slow, a round of five and then we check in. You okay with that?”

  I would have rather she waled on me, but the words to explain this escaped me. I nodded my head and said, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  She didn’t hold out on me though. When the belt came down, it came down hard. The first stroke made my knees buckle. My body shuddered at the pain so sharp it drove me crazy, overwhelming me as it quickly turned to pleasure, making my cunt ache, my clit pulse. She followed the first stroke with another four, crisscrossing my ass.

  “You want more?” She ran her hand over my ass, feeling the heat.

  “Yes, please? Yes,” I said, moving my ass back and forth.

  She started really going for it, harder and faster, making me cry out with each hit. She passed the fifth stroke and went on to the sixth, starting in on my thighs, barely missing my pussy. My body rocked forward with each hit. I was wondering if I could take more when she reached ten and stopped.

  Her hand felt cool on my ass, tracing the welts. “Your ass looks beautiful all marked up.” I could feel her lean closer, scrutinizing the marks. “Damn, girl, you’re already starting to bruise! Are you ready to get fucked yet?” Her hand slid down to my pussy, checking how wet I was getting. I pushed myself back at her, trying to g
et her fingers inside me, but her hand evaded me.

  My endorphins were kicking in and I felt more relaxed and more shaky at the same time, and also kind of silly. Little giggles were sneaking in between my moans. I bit my lip trying to stop.

  “What are you giggling about?” She slapped my ass with her hand, making me gasp. “Do you want to get fucked or not?”

  “Yes! Please…”

  “Roll over.” She slapped my ass again and I rolled over, trying to arrange my sore cheeks on the cool surface of the desk. She pushed over one of the office chairs, parked it in front of my spread legs and sat in it. She leaned back and looked up at me.

  “Take your shirt and your bra off. I want to see your tits.”

  I pulled my shirt up over my head and unhooked my bra, letting my double Ds down slowly onto my belly.

  “You are so beautiful,” she said. One of her hands was resting between her thighs, her thumb running back and forth over the seam of her crotch. “Play with your tits for me, baby. Give me a show.”

  I could feel my face heat up again, if I had ever stopped blushing in the first place. This woman could make things I had done before, of my own volition, seem new, and so dirty. I lifted my tits up and pushed them together, grabbing my nipples between my thumb and forefinger, twisting and pulling them. I watched her watching me, getting hot on getting her hot.