by Alison Tyler
I hear the sheets move at the stir of a body. The bed creaks, feet pad close. The curtains pull aside, open to the dark and the warmth of the room. Of him—bed and sleep heated. I know that smell well; so many nights I’ve lain beside his sleeping figure and inhaled the air he exudes in sleep. Heat and sweat and sweetness, redolent of the weight of dreams. He slips in beside me, letting the dark into my little light hidey-hole. The rain has stopped. The moonlight shines on him and silvers his naked body, rendering his brown flesh pale.
He kneels beside me.
“I’m watching the moon.”
“It’s beautiful. You’re cold.”
It’s true, I am. I’ve become ridiculously chilled. A cold white thing, apart from the sleeping, cozied, nighttime world. He watches with me for a while. I don’t lean into his warm body; I don’t want to imprint my coldness under his skin. I think about pressing my white, icy, moonlit hand to his warm, dark chest, and watching his skin pale as I leach all the heat and color out of him. But he is sitting close enough that I can feel his body heat still.
“Come back to bed.”
I reach up to put my arms around his neck, as if I’m a little girl, as if he could lift me, scoop up my roly-poly, wobbly body and carry me back to bed. I rest my face against his chest and breathe him in. I feel filled with the cool moonlight. I shine. He stands and takes my hand, leads me out of the light, through the curtains. He slips back into the warm space that waits for him and pulls me with him. I follow, and there’s room for me in the burrow. I am moon chilled, he is earth warm. I don’t bleed him dry when he kisses me. Instead the heat spreads deep inside me; warm liquid, honeyed light runs through me from the touch of his tongue on mine, everywhere his lips touch. His hot mouth on my cold nipples plunges me into the current; his fingers push inside me and prove I am not frozen through. I am melted; I haven’t sucked the warmth from him, he has thawed me.
I try to reach for his cock, but he holds himself out of reach.
“Soon.”
He whispers into my belly, burns kisses onto my thighs and pushes them apart. The feather cover is a cave, his hot breath fills it and I welcome back the darkness. I see red night as his hands spread me open and hold me still, as his tongue splits me, slicks me, slides from my wet center to my clit, once, twice and then fastens on. He sucks my clit into his mouth and licks, firm strokes, and he moans onto my tender skin. His voice vibrates deep into me, and I jerk, moving toward and away from it, overloaded. His fingers find me again, pressing into me, pushing against my inner wall, up against where his tongue is licking. The burn starts to spread; I’m going to scream, I’m going to drown. My hands are in his hair, one foot has found its way to his shoulder. Sweat beads my skin and I’m starting to twist, when he tears himself off me and his body covers mine. Before I can cry the loss of his mouth, his cock is hard against my clit, the length of him crushing, rubbing, and he’s in me in one, long, agonizing stroke. All my swollen, throbbing flesh welcomes the almost-pain of it.
He fucks me deep and slow and hard, and I hang on, pinned down, aflame. He licks the sweat from my face, bends his mouth to my nipple and grinds my clit with his thumb. The chill is forgotten. I am a hot thing, one that lights for him. He glides in and out of me, pants his desire into my ear. His tongue swipes at the seashell whorls there, hot breath pushing into me, raising torrid shivers on my neck. It’s the trigger. My cunt clenches around his length, pelvis spasming against him, the sensation so strong part of me tries to escape. But his hips pin me still, his cock wrings every last tremor from me. And then his teeth find my shoulder, and he’s pounding against me, shooting inside me with a groan. My pulse beats in the bruise he leaves, heart and cunt and blood all throb. The air is still clear and new, but the chill moonlight is long banished here in the heated dark. He has reached deep inside me and I am warm from the inside out.
FOR THE MOMENT
Kiki DeLovely
I looked up just as she parted her lips with the tip of her tongue, meeting another pair of lips. Even through the crimson darkness I could tell it was hard, deep, hot. My ultimate butch-on-butch fantasy coming to life. I had felt them moving on top of me—knew it was inevitable and was quite pleased it was happening so soon—sensed its fruition just in time to catch that first glimpse of my own personal goddess-sent, ambrosia-dripping dream. As the intensity of the kiss mounted, their fingers—working individually, then in tandem, then separately again—increased the intensity with which they fucked my cunt. They stretched me wider as the two pairs of lips worked each other over and two pairs of hands heightened my already sensitive sense of touch. Surprised by each new movement, varying changes in tempo, one pressing harder here, the other lighter there, switching my entire body into high alert with their notable differences, their shared passions—growing even more fervent as we built upon the blaze.
I gasped, sunk my teeth into flesh, screamed out, grasped for whatever was within reach, as one twisted her fist into my cunt and the other worked her hand into my ass. Realizing I had again been squeezing my eyes closed, so completely absorbed in the all-but-overwhelming sensation, I consciously engaged my field of vision to take in these beautiful butches—admiring the definition of their muscles, lines cut sharply across their unique strengths, intention set deeply in each of their faces.
They crawled up closer to me, shoving a tongue into my mouth, followed by a slight moan, teeth biting down, and then lips rubbing urgently against me—I grabbed a fistful of each one’s hair and pushed them together for my own amusement and arousal, undoubtedly heightening their own in the process—and just as it got really heated, I jerked the two apart, leaving passion and wanting to fill the space between them. Feeling like some sort of sick puppet mistress, I continued the process until they had had enough and decided to take control again, easily overpowering me as one followed the other’s lead. They pinned me down and fucked me hard and fast, deep and slow, into my own unique bliss and back again, practically to the point of exhaustion, until I was screaming out yet utterly unable to form a single word.
I may have been the one among the three of us who spoke the most words leading up to that point, but it was only nonverbal vocalizations coming out of me thereafter. And those two handsome creatures needed no words between them whatsoever—working perfectly in synchronicity—T.J. surprisingly bowing to Harlan’s dominance, allowing Harlan to fuck her, me (not so surprisingly) loving every second, luxuriating in the immensity of it all. We had only this one night after all. One night before T.J. left town in the morning. One night to make the best of all this tension between the three of us.
From the very first second when they enveloped me as we stood next to the bed—lips on my face, neck, chest; teeth on my back, digging into my shoulder; four hands wandering across my body, exploring the heat—there was not a second of hesitation while we all wondered just where exactly this would lead. As I felt those four hands navigating the landscape of my curves, my skin completely enraptured by their touch, my mind paused for just a moment in deep appreciation and I thought to myself, How the hell did I get this lucky? And therein ceased all other outside thought.
Harlan and I were new lovers living in a small town and with my old lover flying in from the Bay, it was clear we had to take advantage of this opportunity. It’s not every day that a femme like myself has the chance at such a hot threesome, given the size of our incredibly small queer community. So we had T.J. meet us out at a bar, and though there were few words between them other than the obligatory introductions, I could tell the night was going to smile upon us. The three of us made our way silently and swiftly over to my place where I led them each by the hand into my bedroom. It took no time at all for the ravaging to begin.
I had never before been so filled in my life, had never been able to take so much. But then again, I had never been offered quite so much either. My nipples ached, my pussy was sore, I could only imagine what my body would feel like in a couple days, and still I wanted more. Between T
.J. and Harlan, they had had me in every position imaginable—and some I definitely hadn’t ever been creative enough to dream up—generously giving of cocks, fingers, fists, tongues and teeth. Those two hot butches took everything out of me and then went back for more. And then went back for each other.
Much later, at a point well into morning hours, the three of us found ourselves spooning—Harlan grinding against my ass, me pushing up against T.J., who then reached back and slipped a hand down the front of Harlan’s boxers. I followed suit, working my hand between her cock and clit while T.J. grabbed ahold of her cock firmly. We stayed like that, bodies enfolded and pressing perfectly into each other, fitting together with ease, fucking with a motion of fluidity until rays of light peeked through the curtains and sleep began to blanket us.
And just before sleep had fully embraced us, with each on either side of me, I recalled how their movements conjured a feeling of vertigo. As though I was swallowed up by the ocean, waves gently pounding against me, shifting my body to and fro of their inadvertent volition. I vocalized this oceanesque feeling to them as they both began to curl up around me, intertwining limbs, the three of us giggling, a sweet closeness shared as we drifted off, dizzyingly satiated. For the moment.
OBEY ALL SIGNS
Andrea Dale
During your driving test, the examiner will note how you obey the rules of the road and traffic signs and/ or signals,” Chuck quoted from the DMV handbook.
I stared, dumbfounded, at the road sign, then at my husband. “Are you serious?”
“You want to pass the test, don’t you?” His voice was stern, his expression implacable.
My rational brain panicked, while at the same time my body betrayed me, my panties flooding with moisture and my nipples springing to attention so suddenly that the seat belt, rubbing against one, was excruciating.
I’d grown up in the city, never needing a car until we’d married and moved to California, where public transportation was a joke. Chuck was coaching me. I’d been doing fine so far—not running through yellow lights, looking both ways at intersections, remembering my turn signal when I changed lanes.
“It’s not a verb, like Stop,” I protested. “It’s a noun, like Railroad Crossing.”
“Do you think arguing with the driving examiner is going to help you pass?” Chuck asked.
Of course not. More importantly, arguing with Chuck always got me into more trouble. In deliciously perverse ways.
Like right now. He’d had me drive his convertible to a fairly remote road and instructed me to pull over just before the caution sign that said, simply, HUMP.
And he wanted me to obey that sign.
Knowing I had a hang-up about public sex.
Weak thighs and a fluttering stomach joined my growing symptoms of arousal. That explained why he’d had me wear a pencil skirt with a thigh-high slit: not to turn on the faceless examiner I hadn’t yet met, but for Chuck himself. And for me, because I could hike it over my hips.
I did that now.
“Give me your panties,” Chuck said.
Cheeks flaming, I couldn’t keep from glancing around to make sure no other cars had crept up while I wasn’t looking. Wriggling out of my underwear in the confined space took a little doing, but eventually I managed.
There was a wicked glint in Chuck’s dark eyes. “Sopping,” he said, approval in his voice, before he hung them over the rearview mirror, filling the air with my musk.
He told me to spread my legs, stroke myself until I was close, ease off, do it again. I hated that, hated being denied, loved that he could make me hold back even thought I hated it. Truth was, I didn’t come very close. I was constantly aware of where we were, outside, public, with the chance of anyone driving down that road at any moment.
Then, finally, he opened his pants, freeing his fat cock, and I clambered over to straddle him, sinking down with a delighted shudder. He unbuttoned the top of my shirt so he could reach in, tweak my nipples.
I posted, ground down, “humped.” I didn’t whimper like I usually did, out of desire and frustration and lust. No, I practically held my breath, listening. And then, ohgodohgod, I heard the whine of an engine, a motorcycle, growing louder.
Closer.
“Someone’s coming,” I whispered frantically. No idea why I felt the need to whisper. Just panic.
“Well, then,” Chuck said, “you’d better come pretty fast, because you don’t get to stop until you do.”
I couldn’t, but I had to, and the frantic terror of being caught wove together with frustrated need, the need to come, building higher and higher until I was sure the bike was just around the corner and something snapped inside of me and I came, shrieking and shuddering in a red wash of hot sunlight.
At the same time, I felt Chuck’s cock swell, and his hips slammed up, prolonging my orgasm with his own.
“Get back in your seat,” Chuck hissed, and somehow I managed to, with my skirt pulled down again, as the motorcycle approached behind us. I could feel Chuck’s come trickling out of me as I tried, and probably failed, to look nonchalant.
The motorcyclist slowed down, way down, and for a moment of sheer dread I wondered if this were a further plan of Chuck’s—not that my orgasm-addled brain could figure out what traffic law could be interpreted to mean sucking off a stranger. Then I realized he was looking at my flushed cheeks, my half-open shirt…and my panties dangling in full view from the mirror.
And as he gunned the motor to speed away, that realization sent my traitorous body into another shaking orgasm.
GIRLS SLEEP WITH GIRLS
Giselle Renarde
On our way to Gina’s parents’ cottage, we decided to pay my boyfriend Dylan’s grandmother a quick visit. She was a tad traditional, he warned, but the four of us—Gina, her boyfriend Ali, plus Dylan and I—had all been crammed in the car so long we couldn’t refuse a stretch. Anyway, his grandmother lived all alone, only distant neighbors looking in on her. It was a bit of a sad situation, really.
Dylan’s grandmother greeted Gina, Dylan and me with a friendly smile, tea and cookies. Ali “the foreigner” got tea and cookies, but no smile. Classy.
As we stared out the front window in silence, the skies opened up. It poured like I’d never seen. Rain turned to hail and the steel sky turned charcoal.
“Do you think we could stay overnight?” Dylan asked his grandmother. “We hate to impose, but it’s not safe to drive.”
“Of course! Stay!” Grandma replied. She glared noticeably at Ali before eying all four of us. “There are two spare bedrooms. Girls sleep with girls. Boys sleep with boys. That way there’s no monkey business.”
We all tried not to laugh as Dylan agreed to the sleeping arrangements.
“She might even be cute if she wasn’t so racist,” Gina said after the matron showed us to our room. For nightwear, we could have rushed to the car in the rain for our luggage, but I had no qualms about sleeping naked. Tossing my clothes on the floor, I slipped my bare skin under the lovely, crisp sheets.
When Gina crept into bed, her warmth spread across my skin like a wave. I’d never noticed her floral perfume before.
“Girls sleep with girls,” Gina said, imitating Dylan’s grandmother. “She thinks girls can’t get up to no good?”
As if to challenge that belief, Gina’s hand roamed to my thigh. Her fingertips felt like silk against my skin. I couldn’t pretend to be surprised; it was somehow implied this would happen on holiday. The way she looked at me, I’d always known.
When I turned away from her, she didn’t take it as a rebuke. She only moved in closer. Her cheek was on my hair. Her breath was on my neck. It was nearly as hot as her hand as she traced a path up my thigh. She raked my pubic hair. I set my leg against hers, opening up. The moment her finger touched my clit, I jumped. She wrapped an arm around me, holding me in place. We didn’t speak as she stroked my wet slit. Even as I stifled my reaction, she kept rubbing.
Gina cupped my breast, an
d I felt the pressure in my clit. Every part of my body seemed connected by live wires, and connected to Gina skin to skin. I was so wet, wetter than the storm outside. Even my thighs were drenched in juice, and I wondered if Gina was equally aroused, but her front was pressed so close to my back I couldn’t reach to feel. Her fingers slid around my slippery pussy lips, like she couldn’t get a good hold anymore. Too damn wet. So she inched down my body, rolling me onto my back, one arm still lodged between my shoulders and the mattress.
Her breath on my nipples forced them to grow harder than I’d ever seen them. They were like dark pebbles on the rounded mountains of my breasts. When she licked them, I nearly lost it. When she sucked them, I had to cover my face with a pillow. The wet heat of her mouth made me wild, forcing me to buck my hips at her hand as it circled my pussy. Then she slipped a finger inside my slit and, god, my thighs just started trembling. I was losing control, but I didn’t care about the squeaks of the bedsprings as long as I wasn’t shouting Gina’s name to the rafters. The last thing I wanted was for this pleasure to be interrupted.
Gina forced more fingers inside my pussy, and the pressure stretched my borders in every direction. I wanted to watch her face as she did all this, watch her mouth on my tits and her fingers invading my cunt, but there was no way I was taking that pillow off my face. I was getting close, and I didn’t want anyone to hear me. Anyway, there was a strange comfort in the recycled warmth of my own breath, the shallow feeling in my lungs as I gasped for air through cotton.
She fucked me with her fingers. Hard. Sometimes it hurt a little, her nails, but I was so turned on I didn’t care. I rode her hand, thrusting my hips, making her fill me again and again. It wasn’t like a cock. A cock couldn’t fuck me this fast, couldn’t slam up against me this hard. My head was buzzing. I was biting the pillow. Gina was biting my tits. God, she didn’t stop. My pussy was making all kinds of wet squelching noises as she rammed me with her fingers and I was shaking all over, loving the raw passion, and I knew she knew.