Radical Encounters

by Radclyffe

  When she felt me stiffen, she wisely hastened to add, “And besides, baby, your hair always looks fabulous.”

  “Easy for you to say.” I ran my fingers through her short, thick black hair. “You don’t have to do anything to yours.”

  She laughed and tugged up the blue silk tunic top I had worn for my tai chi swords exhibition. “One of the many advantages of being butch.”

  “Oh yeah?” I bumped my crotch into hers and she gave an appreciative grunt. My clit had revved up to full force now. “What are the rest?”

  “This, for starters,” Taylor muttered as she pushed my sports bra aside and latched on to my nipple with her teeth. She tugged and sucked at the same time, and I gushed come all over my thighs.

  “Honey,” I protested halfheartedly, “someone might come in.”

  She turned her face, rubbing her cheek over my breast, and grinned up at me. “Since when do you mind anyone watching?”

  “That one time out on the balcony, and she was too far away to see all that much anyway.” I remembered lying on a lounge chair outside our hotel room while Taylor fingered me to orgasm. Just when I was about to come, I looked across the courtyard into the hungry eyes of a woman who stood statue-still, staring at us. I came so hard that time I almost flew off the chair. I moaned now, a heavy feeling in my stomach, but I kept my tone light. “And truck drivers getting a three-second glimpse while you do me in the front seat of the car don’t count.”

  “But you like thinking they can see me getting you off, don’t you?”

  “Maybe.” I pushed my breast back into her mouth. “And you don’t?”

  “Mmm.” Taylor worked my nipple around and palmed my other breast, squeezing and twisting gently.

  “Stop it. You know that makes me need to come.” I pulled on her hair. “Come on, honey. Let’s go to our room.”

  Taylor straightened, easing her thigh between my legs. “We have another class in twenty minutes.”

  I cupped her crotch, dug my thumb and forefinger into soft cotton, and scored a direct hit. Her eyes went wide as I jerked her clit. “Ten minu—”

  The door swung open and a woman about our age hurried in. I got a two-second snapshot image—blonde, small and trim, pretty—before she stopped dead and blurted, “Oh. God. So sorry.” Then she turned around and rocketed out the door.

  Taylor laughed. “Oops.”

  “Great.” I started to move my hand from between Taylor’s legs, but she slapped her palm over mine and humped her hips encouragingly.

  “Do me like that a couple more times and you’ll make me come.”

  “Really?” I nipped at her chin, then centered myself, relaxed the muscles in my forearm, and used my hips and thighs to pivot my body easily out of her grasp. “Hold that thought.”

  Taylor groaned and slumped against the counter. “Who ever said butches get to call all the shots.”

  “I can’t imagine,” I said sweetly, then caught her hand and tugged her toward the door. “Time for class.”

  The rest of the afternoon was taken up by nonstop workouts until 6:30 when it was time for dinner in the—surprise!—campus cafeteria. Since summer classes hadn’t started yet, the fifty of us martial arts practitioners had the place to ourselves. The scenery was way better than the food.

  “I’m going to skip the evening session,” I said, pushing away my plastic tray. “My legs are already stiff, and if I don’t take it easy, I won’t be able to train in the morning. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”

  “Good idea. I’ll come with you.”

  Taylor stood and gallantly collected our trays and utensils and bussed them to the conveyor against the wall. I grabbed our gear bags and followed her upstairs. We stowed our bags in our room—two twin beds, how quaint—and headed down the deserted hall toward the showers. I flicked on the overhead lights just inside the bathroom and, blinking against the fluorescent glare, immediately shut them off. Even my eyes were tired. A few scattered security wall lights provided enough illumination to see by, and I started for the shower enclosure, stripping as I walked and tossing my clothes in a heap just outside the cubicle. Taylor grabbed towels from a stack by the door and followed me. The warm water felt like heaven, and I sighed with gratitude as my tight muscles began to unwind. I’d forgotten how hard it was to train nonstop for hours, especially now that my crazy call schedule made it difficult for me to work out as regularly as I once had.

  “Turn around,” Taylor said, “and I’ll wash your hair.”

  “I adore you,” I muttered, leaning both hands against the wall. I felt Taylor’s breasts slide over my back as she lathered shampoo into my hair. Her strong fingers stroked my scalp in deep, wide circles. I moaned and dropped my head back against her shoulder. “Don’t stop. Ever.”

  Taylor laughed and wrapped one arm around my waist, scooping a handful of suds onto my breasts with the other. She massaged my chest with the same firm circles, caressing my breasts, her thumb pausing to flick each nipple as she passed. I heard her breathing pick up.

  “I’m too tired, honey.”

  “No you’re not.” Taylor bit down on my earlobe, then sucked the hurt away when I protested weakly. My body was so relaxed I was afraid I might dissolve into a puddle on the floor. But when she circled her index finger in my navel, my clit twitched.

  “Mmm, I felt that.”

  “Oh yeah?” Taylor fanned her fingers between my legs. “How about that?”

  “Honey, don’t tease.” I turned my head and bit her neck.

  She hissed in a breath and rubbed her crotch over my ass. Then she slid two fingers down my cleft and circled my opening. “I’m not.”

  “Oh Jesus, Taylor.” My cunt rolled and my thighs went soft. “Then fuck me if you’re going to.”

  Taylor growled and pushed me up against the wall, her arm between me and the cold tiles, her fingers buried in me, her crotch humping my ass. “I’m. Gonna. Make. You. Come.”

  Every word was bitten off, her hand and hips thrusting in time to the harsh syllables. The water streamed over our heads and I drifted on a mist of steam, a storm gathering in the pit of my stomach. I was just starting that smooth glide to a deep come when I heard a thin cry float above Taylor’s labored grunts. “What was—?”

  “It’s nothing,” she gasped. “Oh shit, baby. I’m gonna come all over your ass.”

  Her hips jerked and her fingers hit that sweet spot high up inside me and I came in her hand, my eyes half closed and blurred with water. I thought I saw a flash of gold at the edge of the steam clouds, but I was too far gone to be sure.

  Taylor collapsed against me, panting, and it’s a good thing she did because I needed her weight to hold me up.

  “God, honey,” I moaned.

  “Yeah.”

  She kissed the back of my neck and eased her fingers out, stroking my clit as she passed it by. I was still so sensitive I came a second time, twitching and swearing at her. She laughed. When I could move, I turned and kissed her.

  “Did you hear anything...odd...right at the end?”

  “When I was coming?” Taylor regarded me incredulously.

  “Uh-huh.”

  She tugged the towel from the hook and draped it around my shoulders. “No, but I’m pretty sure I saw God.”

  The next few days passed in a blur of pain and exhilaration. We fell into bed at nine o’clock and were up at six to start all over again. Once or twice I noticed the blonde who’d walked in on us that first morning in the bathroom staring at us in the cafeteria or during the rest breaks between training sessions. I thought at first she was cruising Taylor. Most femmes and not a few butches usually do. But then I saw her sitting on the sidelines while I was performing a tai chi form and Taylor was nowhere around. I swear she was fucking me with her eyes.

  On the morning of the last day I woke Taylor an hour before everyone else usually got up.

  “I’ve had enough of group living. Want to join me for a shower?”

  She
rolled onto her back and stretched, the muscles in her abdomen tensing as she bowed off the bed. She always looked just like that when she came with my lips fastened around her clit. I skimmed my fingers up the inside of her naked thigh and patted her cunt.

  “Of course, you can always sleep an extra hour if you don’t want to play.”

  “Fuck that,” she said, jumping up.

  We grabbed clean sweats, and I peeked out the door. The hallway was empty. I looked at Taylor’s naked body.

  “Race you.”

  We ran bare-assed naked down the hall and careened into the bathroom, trying to be quiet but laughing the whole way.

  “We probably woke up the entire floor,” I said. “Let’s claim the showers before anyone else shows up.”

  We’d just stepped under the warm spray when I heard the door open. I looked at Taylor and grimaced.

  “So much for our playtime.”

  “Says who,” Taylor whispered and pulled me to her.

  Her mouth was on mine before I could utter a protest. Then her tongue was in my mouth and her hands were squeezing my ass, and my crotch was doing a thing of its own, rolling and grinding over hers. Part of my mind was listening, but heard nothing. I hoped whoever had come in was only using the john, because Taylor knew exactly how to get me lethally horny in seconds. I heard another sound, like a half-strangled cough, and this time when I saw a flash of gold out of the corner of my eye, I saw the face that went with it. I pulled my mouth away from Taylor, who moved to kissing my throat, and stared into the eyes of the blonde who had been watching us all week. She was leaning against the wall just inside the shower. She was still watching us. And she was naked.

  “Honey,” I murmured.

  There must have been something in my voice because Taylor left off sucking on my neck and followed my gaze. No one moved for an eternity. Then the blonde spoke.

  “Please don’t stop.”

  Taylor extended one arm and turned off the shower, then pushed me gently back against the wall. While she lowered her head and covered my nipple with her mouth, I kept my head turned toward the stranger. Her gaze dropped to my breasts and she unconsciously brushed her fingers over her own tight nipples as Taylor kissed and sucked on mine. The blonde’s face was dreamy, her skin flushed a beautiful rose.

  “Bite them,” I murmured, loud enough for our audience to hear. When Taylor did, I cried out. The pain and the pleasure shot to my clit and I wanted to come. The blonde’s breasts rose and fell rapidly, and she had both nipples clamped between her fingers now, tugging and tweaking them. My voice came out sounding breathy and thick when I spoke to her. “It feels so good. If I let her, she can make me come this way.”

  “Not yet,” the blonde implored urgently. “Please don’t come yet.”

  I laughed. “I’m taking requests.”

  Her face contorted for a second as she swept her hand down her belly and into the blonde strands between her thighs. So softly I could barely hear her, she whispered, “Come in her mouth.”

  My hips twitched and I was afraid I might go off just from the needy look on her face. Taylor must have heard her too, because she groaned and dropped to her knees. She wedged her face between my legs and lapped at my clit with long, hot strokes. Her arm was pumping between her legs, and I knew that she was jerking her clit in time to the movements of her tongue.

  “Go slow, honey,” I keened, my clit so hard I was afraid it would burst. “You’re going to make me come.”

  Taylor flicked at my clit, dancing her tongue under the hood. I wanted to come so bad, but I wanted something else even more. I fixed my gaze on the stranger, staring at the slender fingers sliding through the blonde delta a few feet away.

  “Let me see your clit,” I gasped.

  With a whimper, the stranger opened herself with one hand, pressing down so that her hard, deep ruby clit jerked upright, exposed and glistening with her juices. I felt Taylor turn her head for an instant, and then she was sucking me even harder. I rested my head against the wall. I was losing my grip on the terrible pressure building in my cunt. “I’m going to come soon.”

  “Me too,” the blonde cried in a high, thin voice. She kept her clit visible with one hand, squeezed between two fingers like a bright shining stone, and rubbed it furiously with her other hand, pinching and tugging. “Oh, I’m going to co...me.”

  Taylor groaned, her hips jerking, and I flooded her mouth with hot come as my clit jumped between her lips.

  When my belly stopped heaving, I smiled weakly at the blonde who had slid to a sitting position, her head lolling lazily and her hand still clamped between her thighs. I caressed Taylor’s face where she rested her head against my stomach. “Get up, honey. Let’s take a shower.”

  “Just turn the water on,” Taylor murmured, her eyes half closed. “I’m good here.”

  I fumbled for the dial and turned it to hot, then beckoned to the blonde. After a few seconds’ hesitation, she rose unsteadily and stepped close to us.

  “You sure you don’t mind?” she asked softly, suddenly shy.

  I shook my head. “This is one time when three is definitely not a crowd.”

  By the Light of the Moon

  “Come on, J.,” my best friend Trudy said. “We need a fourth.”

  I set a glass of wine by her elbow and glanced at the object in the center of the card table, then at the three women eagerly studying me. “I never heard there was a quota.”

  “Come on,” she whined, half cajoling, half hurt. “You said you’d play.”

  “No,” I said with exaggerated politeness. “I did not say that. I said you were all welcome to hang out here and watch the eclipse.”

  That particular night was one of those rare confluences of science and superstition, when even ordinarily rational people surrendered to mysticism. It was All Hallows’ Eve, the moon was full and bright in an otherwise inky-dark sky, and there was about to be a total lunar eclipse. Everywhere around the world, I was certain, Wiccans danced naked in tree-bordered glades and pagans prayed to the goddesses of yore. That was fine with me, and I sincerely hoped that they had a magical experience. My problem was that three of my good friends sat with a Ouija board poised between them, waiting for me to join them and summon a spirit from across the great divide. Presumably, the Ouija board was the vehicle to open the gate between our world and the other dimensions that some believed coexisted side by side with our own. Trudy insisted that everything was conspiring to ensure our success. Success at what, I wasn’t entirely certain.

  “You three go ahead. I’ll light the candles.”

  I turned off the room lights and opened the drapes, exposing the floor-to-ceiling windows in the French doors, beyond which lay the gently rolling slope of lawn behind my house. The moon was a huge, shimmering globe above the treetops, and silver light immediately suffused the room with a warmth that was tangible. Even as I watched, a tiny sliver of midnight inched its way over the edge of the moon, marring its perfect beauty. I struck a match to the candles in several ornate silver candleholders that had been my grandmother’s, knowing that in just a few moments, the room would be cast into total darkness. When I finished, I turned to find three sets of eyes still regarding me hopefully. With a sigh, I took the fourth seat at the table. I wasn’t entirely certain of the source of my reluctance, and it seemed churlish to ruin their fun.

  “Well,” Trudy began with an eager note infusing her soft Southern accent, “y’all put your fingertips lightly on the planchette. Now remember, don’t press too hard.”

  The instant my fingertips touched the smooth, varnished wood, I felt it. Some shift in the air. A faint tingle in the back of my throat. The barest stirring of blood deep, deep inside me. The sound of my own heart beating magnified inside my head. Of course I knew that it was only the involuntary rush of epinephrine prompted by my surprise as a faint breeze flickered the flames in the candles on the far side of the room. Breeze? It was early fall in New England. I didn’t leave the windows o
pen at night. I would have searched for the source of the cool breath against my face if all of my attention had not been riveted to the Ouija board. As I watched the planchette rock gently back and forth in a small semicircle, I heard Trudy’s voice, muffled and soft, as if she were speaking from a great distance. For some reason, I could only catch every few words through the low hum in my ears.

  “… friends…welcome…visit…lonely...”

  One after the other, the candles guttered and went out. The moonlight, which moments before had illuminated the room nearly as brightly as sunshine, was quickly fading. I knew without looking that the shadow of the night now nearly covered the face of the moon. The planchette vibrated, sliding in an ever-widening circle on the board, jumping from letter to letter too quickly for my eyes to decipher. Was it spelling something in its frantic race from place to place, or merely reflecting the chaos of our own hidden secrets and desires?

  “… waiting…”

  My arms shook with the effort to keep the small pointer from flying into the air. Energy poured through my fingertips, along the avenues of my muscles and nerves, stirring anticipation in my depths. Anticipation that was surprisingly sensual, as if some memory of a touch long past had been awakened. The darkness was so complete I could see nothing, the silence so dense I could hear nothing, not even the shuddering breaths of the women beside me. And then, with crystal clarity, I heard her voice.

  “Can you help me?”

  The planchette stopped moving. Someone gasped. In the same instant, a dull thud registered in my overstimulated yet strangely sluggish brain. I froze, my heart seizing. Then the sound came again.

  Knocking.

  “There’s someone at the door,” I said in a surprisingly steady voice, lifting my fingers from the pointer.

  “Don’t answer it,” Trudy said sharply.

  One of the candles burst into flame, and I could see my friend’s eyes, open wide with apprehension.