Radical Encounters

by Radclyffe

  “Hey,” she said, casually brushing one hand across the bulge in her crotch, “I thought you were the one supposed to be getting presents, seeing it’s your birthday.”

  I smiled. “I’m going to. Starting right now.”

  She was leaning back just a little, an arm out to either side, her palms flat on the mattress. The position lifted her small, tight-nippled breasts into perfect kissing position, and seeing as how they were there, I dropped the towel I’d loosely tied around my chest and, naked, straddled her legs, my crotch a few millimeters above hers. Then I had only to dip my head to clamp my teeth around the taut pink nub. I worked it with my lips and my tongue and my teeth until she was moaning and making quick jerking motions with her hips. Every time she did, her cock bumped my clit. I was dripping onto an ever-widening wet spot on the front of her jeans. I was already so ready, if I rubbed my clit over that denim-covered cock, I’d come until tomorrow. Oh, Jesus, how I needed to. But it wasn’t denim I wanted to soak with my juices when I came screaming all over her. I let her tortured nipple pop from my lips and knelt on the floor between her hard, quivering thighs.

  “Whatcha got for me in here, baby,” I crooned, tugging down the top of her jeans with one hand and exposing the royal blue waistband where it cut across her belly. I slipped my fingertips underneath the edge of her boxers and swept back and forth over her belly, stroking silk above and below. She tensed and hissed, Oh yeah. I popped open the first few buttons on her fly and the ridge of her silk-covered cock sprang out. Her clit had to be as stiff as mine under that load. I laid my cheek on her boxers, right over her cock. “Where’s my present, huh?”

  “Keep digging, sexy,” Jordan murmured, twisting a fist in my hair and bumping the corner of my mouth with her hard-on. “There’s more than one in the package.”

  She wanted me to suck her. She likes to come like that, with me jerking her cock and her clit together while I blow her. But making her wait always makes me come harder, and I wanted to come so so hard. I flicked open two more buttons so I could lick the length of her cock. I took my time, working the slippery material back and forth with my lips over the hard ridge and fat head, sliding the wet fabric up and down like a blue silk foreskin. I licked and sucked and bit until the blue was black with my saliva, her hand all the time clenching and unclenching against the back of my neck, her belly heaving.

  “Suck it, honey, Jesus, suck it,” Jordan groaned, pushing my head toward her cock. “Get me off, please get me off.”

  I teased the waistband down until just the head was bare, the rest of her cock still pinned to her stomach by the top of the boxers. Mouth open, eyes glazed, she stared at me as I fisted the shaft through her shorts and delicately tongued the tip. The sound she made, something between a whimper and a plea, shot to my cunt and it convulsed like it does right before I come. Shuddering, I clamped my free hand hard between my legs and squeezed until the orgasm backed off a breath.

  “Get your jeans off,” I ordered around a mouthful of her dick, “and get up on the bed. Hurry.”

  I gave her one last tug and leaned back enough for her to push her pants off and shove her body back up the bed. She knew better than to touch her boxers, and now her cock, freed from the tight jeans, sprang up beneath the bright silk. I clawed my way up on top of her and spun around until my cunt was over her face.

  “Lick me,” I ordered as I chewed on the soaked boxers stretched across her crotch. Her mouth closed around me and I screamed into her cunt, “Suck it, goddamn it, suck it there, there, oh yeah fuck…”

  My insides clenched, spurting juice in her face, and I shoved both hands up the leg holes of her shorts. Dimly I remembered Mr. TB and H saying, “easy access.” The harness straps framing her cunt were slick with her come. I fingered her open and mashed on the base of her clit so the tip would protrude, bare nerves crushed under the base of her cock. She pleaded some more, and I smiled and dug her cock out through the opening in her shorts. It stood straight up, with the blue silk gathered in folds around the base. Another series of quick clenches in my cunt and I couldn’t hold back anymore.

  “I’m gonna come all over your cock, baby,” I gasped, swiveling around until I crouched over her hips. “Hold it for me.”

  Groaning, her face glistening with my come, she fisted it, her fingers white against the royal blue ocean. Her eyes closed and she hissed in a breath.

  “Nuh-uh, no jerking off,” I snapped as I saw her wrist vibrate.

  “I gotta get off,” Jordan pleaded, hips twisting. “Ten seconds. Just ten—”

  “Not yet. Now hold still!” I lowered myself, an inch at a time, onto the length of her cock, my cunt more than wet enough to take her in. When I hit bottom she slid her hand off, but not before she twisted my clit a time or two. “Bitch.” She laughed.

  I was flying, and I knew she was too. I reached behind me and squeezed a handful of silk and skin and leather and cock and jerked her hard and fast until her eyes went blank and I knew she was on the edge and then I stopped. “I’ll tell you when you can come, and not before I…uh…” I was suddenly dizzy with how full she made me. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come now. Fuck yeah, here I come.”

  I grabbed a fistful of her boxers on either side of her cock, twisting the waistband around my fingers like a horse’s reins, and I rode her like she was my stallion. Head back, staring into her dazed face, I whipped my hips and pounded her cock, in and out, in and out. Her fingers dug into my ass, the muscles in her arms tight as ropes.

  When I knew I was there and there was no stopping it, I slid all the way up her cock until the just the head was in, and then I yanked on her boxers so hard her hips jumped off the bed. Her cock slammed into my cunt and I came and came and came all over her cock and what was left of the royal blue silk.

  “Ohhh, man,” she yelled, her legs jerking straight out, her belly heaving as she shot her load inside her shorts.

  “Uh-huh,” I sighed, collapsing on top of her, sweaty and sticky and totally, wonderfully fucked. “Blue’s such a great color on you.”

  “I think I heard them rip,” Jordan muttered, her voice slurring as she dragged a hand lazily over my ass.

  “S’okay. There’s about a dozen other ones I wanna try.”

  Briefs, thongs, jock straps, button fly, Y fly…oh yeah.

  Pleasure Points

  “You have a great clit.”

  “Huh?”

  “Seriously.” I tilted my head as it rested against your thigh so I could see all the sweeping undulations of tender skin that cradled the upthrust prominence like protective hands. Even unerect, the pale pink, butter-soft tip peeked out beneath the thicker, dark rose hood. “It’s beautiful—especially when you’re turned on. I love the way it gets so shiny, the head poking out at me when it’s hard.” I ran my fingertip along the side, pressed deep enough to feel the core, grinning to myself when you gasped.

  “Jesus,” you whispered when I thumbed the tip gently and your clit twitched.

  Mmm, here it comes. Oh yeah, get hard for me, baby.

  “And,” I continued matter-of-factly, enjoying the power, “I like feeling it swell right before you come.” I moved to that spot just underneath that always makes you wet and rubbed—slow and steady. Small circles, not too hard yet. “You get so big then, so stiff righ—”

  “You’re gonna make me come...if you...keep doing that.” Breathless, legs twitching, one hand twisted in the sheets.

  “Sorry. I’m just playing around.” I eased up on the pressure, slowed my strokes even more. Flick. Flick.

  “Oh come on.” That tilt of hips I loved, the silent plea for just a little more, just a little harder.

  “I’ll be good.” I really wanted to reach down and stroke my own pulsating clit, but it would be too distracting, and I needed all my concentration to tease you to orgasm. I knew all the signals—I should, we’ve been lovers for years—but I still needed to listen to the currents of your blood, sense the call of your flesh. Despite how well I kne
w your body, it still fascinated me. There was both comfort and exhilaration in knowing just how to create desire—how to control the pace, direct the passion, determine the depth and moment of your release. There were times your body demanded to be satisfied immediately—screamed to come—and then I gave you what you needed, just exactly the way you needed it. But there were other times, like now, when I led and you followed, willingly—or not. Dancing to my tune, coming to my song.

  “I think you’re bigger than me,” I mused, switching to long strokes of the shaft between my thumb and finger, squeezing lightly when I got to the tiny ridge just in front of the head. You whimpered. I smiled. My clit beat a frantic rhythm between my thighs, and I clenched my muscles deep inside, holding back the thunder of blood that would soon drive me insane. I started to jerk you off a little faster. “But that’s okay—it’s a win-win for me. I get your big clit to play wi—”

  “You’ve gotta make me come,” you pleaded. “Please, I really need to.”

  I knew you did. Your clit was stone between my fingers, your legs and ass clenched tight. My fingers were drenched in come, and the beat of your heart pulsed through your clit like hammer blows. I wanted you to come as badly as you did. I couldn’t breathe for the beauty of it.

  “Ohpleaseplease...right...there...ohyeahbabythat’s...just...right...ohright...there I’m gonnacome...oh yeah oh yeah...”

  Your clit is gorgeous when it shoots off—dark red, full and hard, jumping against my fingers. If I could, I’d make it do it all day. But now the pressure in my belly was so huge I thought I might scream, and as much as I wanted to keep going, I needed you. I slid up beside you and even though you were still coming, you reached for me.

  “You’ve got a great clit, too,” you whispered, your voice raspy, your sweat-dampened face against my neck, your clever fingers already working me to the boiling point.

  “Mmm, you make me so crazy,” I moaned. Eyes closed, I rubbed my hand over your stomach, found the barbell in your belly button, and tugged on it in time to your fingers jerking my clit. I pulled harder; so did you. “Gonna come.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I twitched at the jewelry, you stroked my clit; I twisted it, you pressed; I rolled it, you squeezed. My fingers flew, so did yours. And then my clit exploded, and I came and came.

  “Oh God,” I sighed at last, still feebly flicking the piercing in your navel. “You are so good at that.”

  “You know,” you muttered, sleepy and satisfied, softly rubbing my clit, “you work my piercing the way you want me to get you off.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mm-hmm. Makes me hard when you do that.”

  I laughed. “Honey, everything does.”

  “I wonder what would happen if it wasn’t in my navel.”

  I was suddenly wide awake. “Huh?”

  “What if it was in my clit?”

  *

  “You sure about this?” I asked three nights later as we made our way through the crowds on South Street. There were head shops, piercing parlors, and tattoo places on every block.

  “Yeah,” you said, blushing cutely. “I’ve been sorta thinking about it for a long time.”

  “Well, I know we fooled around talking about it. But this is...a big deal.”

  “I thought you said it would be sexy.” You stopped at the corner of Third and looked into my face. “Don’t you want me to?”

  “It’s not that.” I looked away, then sighed and met your worried gaze. “I really want you to. But not for me, okay?”

  You grinned, your blue eyes clearing. “Okay. I won’t let you play with it, then.”

  I grabbed your hand and pulled you close to the side of a steak joint, angling my body to shield you from passersby, and then gripped your crotch. I squeezed. “Sure about that?”

  “Come on,” you protested a little desperately. “I have to get naked in a few minutes. Don’t make me wet now.”

  There was something about knowing that my touch made you weak that drove me a little nuts, but I eased up. I knew you were nervous. Hell, I was almost nauseous worrying this was going to hurt you. “Okay. But if you want to quit—any time—you just say, and we’re done. We’ll walk out, no problem, okay?”

  “I really want to,” you said firmly.

  I grinned. “Me, too.”

  I followed you down the street toward Body Alchemy. It looked typically grungy from the outside—flat-black-painted door, windows frosted so we couldn’t see in from the street. When you made up your mind, though, you didn’t hesitate. You shouldered through, and I was right on your heels. One long, narrow room, a glass-enclosed counter along one side, a curtained doorway at the end. Behind the counter a youngish guy in a black T-shirt and jeans, piercings in every visible orifice and then some. Both earlobes sported fat glass plugs a half inch in diameter. His nose was pierced, his forehead, his lower lip. I didn’t want to, but I imagined what his dick looked like. Don’t go there. Jesus.

  He studied us back, neutrally. I wondered what he thought of two butch dykes in jeans, T-shirts, and boots. He looked from me to you, then settled on you.

  “How you doin’?”

  “Great,” you said, leaning down to look at the jewelry under the surprisingly spotless glass.

  “Need something pierced?”

  “Uh-huh,” you replied absently, staring at the fat silver rings. Fourteen-gauge looked huge to me right about now. You looked up. “My clitoris.”

  His expression never changed.

  “You’ll want Venus, then—she’s the best at that kind of thing.”

  “Venus,” I repeated quietly.

  “Yep.” He turned to me. “Very experienced. She did my co—”

  “Thanks!” I interrupted brightly. I saw you smirk and wanted to slug you. “Is she free?”

  At that moment a Tristan Taormino look-alike came through the door in a crotch-high leather skirt, high-heeled boots laced to the knee, and a red tube top that almost covered her nipples. Red lipstick, short red-lacquered nails, and big dark eyes. My taste runs to boy-bodies and short-cropped hair, but she made my heart beat a little faster.

  “Oh, hey, Venus,” the studded guy behind the counter called. “Got a customer here for you.”

  She looked our way and smiled. “Hi.”

  Fabulous voice.

  “Both of you?”

  “Just me,” you said.

  “Great.” She pointed to the curtain at the end of the room. “You ready now?”

  I piped up. “I’m coming, too. I’m her lover.” Okay, maybe I was just a little more forceful than necessary, but no way was she getting her hands on your clit without me in the room.

  “Oh, cool,” she replied brightly. “Come on back.”

  The hallway beyond the curtain was narrow and lined with eight-by-ten framed photos of tattooed and pierced body parts. Not people—parts. One penis had half a dozen rings through the undersurface of the shaft and a barbell through the head. Ouch.

  “Here we go.”

  The room was maybe ten by twelve, with a tiny sink in one corner, a padded table in the middle, and a moveable floor lamp in one corner. A box of latex gloves sat beside a series of squat, square stainless-steel trays on the counter by the sink. The room smelled of disinfectant and spices.

  “So,” she said briskly, indicating the table. “Sit up here a minute and let’s figure out what’s going to work for you. What kind of piercing do you want?”

  “Genital,” you said immediately.

  “Labia or clitoral?”

  “My clit.”

  I leaned against the counter and stuck my hands in my pockets. It’s weird, but they were shaking.

  Venus nodded thoughtfully. “You’re over eighteen, right?”

  We both laughed.

  “Had to ask that. And I won’t pierce you if you’re high.”

  “Nope. I’m clean and sober.”

  “Cool.” She shifted a little in the smallish space so she could address us both. “W
hat kind of clitoral piercing are you interested in? For show or for sensation?”

  “Sensation,” we both said together.

  “Then you want either a vertical hood, where the jewelry goes under the hood so the ball on the end will rest on the head,” she gave us a look to see if we understood, and we both nodded, “or you want a triangle piercing...under the clitoral shaft. The triangle will heighten sexual arousal the most.”

  “That one,” you said without a second’s hesitation.

  We’d looked at pics on the Internet, read the pros and cons, but I didn’t know you’d absolutely decided.

  “That’s the most serious one we do,” Venus advised. “It will hurt a little more and take longer to heal.”

  “I understand,” you said.

  “It might make your clit get bigger from the constant stimulation and the healing process—sometimes a lot bigger.”

  You grinned and damn if my clit didn’t get hard.

  “No problem.”

  Venus nodded. “There are two places I can put it—the standard triangle piercing goes low, where the labia join the hood. Or I can do a deep hood, up high under the base of the shaft. The ring will circle the shaft then.”

  “Like a little cock ring?” Your voice rose with interest. My clit twitched.

  “Uh-huh. If you’re built for it.” She reached down, opened a drawer in the table, and pulled out a clean white sheet. “Take everything off from the waist down and let’s see. You can cover up with the sheet.”

  While you stripped, she turned on the little spotlight, washed her hands, and pulled on gloves. Then she motioned me over to the table opposite her and gently reached between your legs, parted your labia with the fingers of one hand, and felt your clit. I saw your legs tense, and when she touched your clit, I got a jolt. I love your clit. Even seeing a stranger touch it turns me on. I kept my face completely still.

  “Nice,” she commented in a surprisingly clinical tone. “You’ve got a prominent shaft and the hood,” she did something with her thumb, and I heard your breath catch, “slides back easily.” She straightened. “I can do the deep hood if you want. But that ring is going to keep you erect all the time.”