by D. L. King
I groaned and let her tear off my jeans. At this point, I was afraid they would look like I’d spilled a drink on them if they stayed on; I was so hot for Tyler. Besides, all I wanted was her skin on mine. Well, that and… “Show me.”
Tyler stopped short. “What?”
“Show me how you fuck yourself, you naughty lady.”
Tyler’s eyes widened. She jumped up for long enough to scoot down the rest of her dress, then lay back down spread-eagled. I could only stare. Tyler Lite now wore nothing except a pair of heels and a flimsy white thong covered in tiny, colorful jewels. Her panties had a G-string, so there was only a tiny line of cloth between me and her pussy, and I could see the edges of her labia peeking out of either side. Wetness soaked the middle of the string and spread out shiny over Tyler’s inner thighs. I have no idea how long I just looked, hypnotized, before Tyler cooed, “Like what you see?”
“Fuck,” I moaned again, feeling like I might explode. As I began yanking off the rest of my clothes, Tyler brought both hands down between her legs and started to play around. She slid one hand inside her thong, all five fingers working over her clit. With the other hand, she ran a finger down the soaked line of her underwear, right over her pussy, then dipped inside. Within half a second, her finger was all the way inside her. She pulled it halfway out, its bottom half glistening, then quickly glided it back in.
“Care to share?”
“Mmm.” Tyler pulled the finger back out and stuck it deep into my mouth. I sucked hard; she tasted sweet. With my tongue and teeth, I pulled every bit of fluid off Tyler’s hand, and then climbed on top of her.
I lay astride Tyler’s thigh and kissed her again, pressing my own thigh between her legs. We both gasped at the contact. I rubbed back and forth a little, feeling my clit go white-hot at the friction. Tyler rocked beneath me, mouth open in pleasure as I sucked her bottom lip. Within seconds, both our thighs were slick where we connected.
Tyler traced her tongue along the insides of my lips as she started rocking against me faster. I could feel her clit, hard as a marble, rubbing my thigh as she made little noises into my mouth. It felt so warm that I wondered, for a split second, if it would leave a mark. I wouldn’t have minded.
“Fuck me, April,” she hissed fiercely. “Fuck me.”
I rode her thigh faster and harder, starting to feel lightheaded. I cupped Tyler’s breast and grunted as we went back and forth again and again, each time feeling more excruciatingly wonderful. My crotch tingled so hard that I felt like every cell was electrified, and I pressed my face into Tyler’s neck, eager for what I knew would happen next.
My climax ripped through me, making me shake hard against Tyler’s body as I gasped. I soaked her leg with my glossy heat, mouth open against her skin. Tyler breathed faster as I came, and partway through she cried, “April! Fuck!” and began vibrating herself. She nearly sobbed as her body thrust against mine. I could feel her labia clenching and releasing against the skin of my thigh, and I swear it was the most erotic sensation I’ve ever felt.
As we lay there, cooling down, I heard the opening number of the show wrap up. “Shouldn’t we get you back out there?” Tyler panted, nudging my arm. “You might have to give an acceptance speech.”
I chuckled. “I guess.”
We got up, not in any particular hurry, and began putting our clothes back on. Tyler stepped back into her lavender dress and pulled it up. A jagged sound went through the air. “Oh!” Tyler found a mirror—not hard, given where we were—and examined the tear that had just formed down the side of her dress, next to the bust. “Well…shit.”
“No worries.” I tossed her my jacket. It was shrunken and leather with a diagonal zipper; hardly her style, but it was all we had. “Just do this up. You can keep it, even. No one will notice a thing.”
“Yeah, right!” Tyler rolled her eyes again but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Won’t you be cold?”
“I’m a badass. We don’t get cold.” I almost managed to say it with a straight face. Almost, but not quite.
Tyler shook her head and reapplied her lipstick before we went back to the show.
By the following morning, I didn’t quite feel as blasé about our encounter. The press would be trying to dig up dirt like never before, now that I was an award-winning artist and shit. And, as we all know, when they can’t dig up dirt, they create it. I took my time making coffee, gathering my nerve to open my laptop.
As a rule, I try to avoid those gossip sites. The first few times, it was pretty cool to see myself, but the stories were always so bogus that they made me angry. That day, I had to know: Had the sapphic speculation reached a fever pitch? Who had noticed our midnight outfit swap?
I steeled myself and clicked onto the most notorious site of all. My heart jumped into my throat at the first picture: Tyler in her dress and my jacket, loitering on the red carpet after the show.
Then I saw the caption: IS TYLER LITE GOING PUNK?
All I could do was laugh.
THE LAST TIME
Annabeth Leong
I should tell her this is the last time. I’ve never done that, but I could.
Every time she texts me, Thea says we won’t see each other again after this one final fuck, but then she also claims, to anyone who asks, that she’s straight. She has her reasons, but that doesn’t make this any easier.
I can’t trust myself either. Her text comes through after ten, but my phone is turned up loud and the ping gets me out of bed. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t waiting for it. Even while I think about how I’m not going to put up with this forever, I’m finding her favorite skirt and buttoning it on, stuffing my bag with lube and toys she likes, crumpling up my pride and shoving it into a corner of my mind well hidden by my lust and our history.
I can’t follow the speed limit on the way to her place.
Thea used to be my actual girlfriend. In college, she sported a buzz cut to die for, rocked flannel shirts and steel-toed boots and took me to see Tegan and Sara for our first anniversary.
Outside Lupo’s, downtown, after the show ended, we waited in an alley by the tour bus in the cold, hoping for a glimpse of the musicians. There was a whole crowd of us there, sweat from the press of people inside drying and freezing in our hair as we stood on our toes to see over each other and crammed our bodies into awkward spaces.
Thea helped me climb onto a narrow concrete wall that divided the alley from the parking lot beside it. From there, we had a great view of the tour bus and the side door of Lupo’s, but the footing was precarious. She hooked an elbow around a lamppost for balance and held me around the waist with her other arm.
Our increased height exposed us to the cutting wind. I pressed closer to her, shivering in my short skirt and leggings, greedy for the warmth of her body. She folded one side of her oversized motorcycle jacket over my right shoulder and tightened her grip on me. I settled into the animal scent of leather, and of Thea.
There is a way that being in a crowd can make you feel private—almost secluded, though in fact you are the opposite. I drifted into that place as the minutes stretched into half an hour and beyond and my lower legs began to numb from holding the same position.
That trance was probably the reason I didn’t stop her when the hand on my waist shifted and started crawling up my skirt. Instead, I remained perched on the wall, depending on her to help me stay in place, as her fingertips brushed first my outer thighs, then my inner thighs, and made their slow, determined way to my pussy.
She tapped my clit with her half-curled index finger, as if pointing it out to me. Each light impact sent a shiver through me. She paused, pressed more firmly and gave me a circular rub through my leggings and underwear. I gasped, and then immediately looked around to check whether anyone had noticed what she was doing to me. I felt Thea smile into my hair.
Shifting her mouth to my ear, she murmured, “We’re going to be standing here for a while. But I want to fuck you now.”
I whimp
ered and pressed my ass against her. Before I met her, I didn’t believe people could need each other chemically, didn’t understand doing foolish things for the sake of sexual gratification.
Hooking an arm back over her neck for balance, I spread my legs a few inches, too focused on her fingers and my clit to care how shaky that made my position on the wall.
“Do you like these leggings?” Thea asked. “Would you be upset if something happened to them?”
She tugged the stretchy fabric. I wanted her fingers back on my clit.
“Do whatever you want.” I barely recognized my voice. It was so full of naked need. “I bought them to impress you, anyway.”
“I’m impressed,” Thea said, and used a corner of one short fingernail to open a hole along the seam, just over my pussy. “Now let’s see if I can impress you, too.” She gripped the edge of the ripped fabric and tore. Cold air hit my inner thighs, and I cringed at what seemed like a loud, obvious noise. My thin, silky thong felt like it wasn’t covering me at all.
A second later, Thea made sure it wasn’t, yanking the fabric to one side and plunging a finger into me.
I clenched my jaw to keep from moaning.
“You know,” Thea whispered into my ear, “I’ve only ever felt your pussy wet. I never have to get you ready. Your body is always begging for me to fuck you.”
It was true, but I didn’t want to admit it. “Don’t be cocky,” I muttered.
“Why shouldn’t I be? You’re about to come all over my hand, and then after that you’ll let me do anything I want to you.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but my cunt had already begun to ripple around her fingers. I twisted my head to one side as I struggled not to cry out, and when I did, I caught a glimpse of someone watching us, smirking.
In any other situation, I would have cared. I would have stopped. Thea was still touching me, though, tearing the hole in my leggings even wider so she could get more of her hand into my pussy.
I don’t remember if we saw any more of Tegan and Sara that night. What I do remember is coming for Thea, over and over, indifferent to the cold, to who might have seen us, to anything other than her body and my need for it.
I had no idea it would be our last time together as girlfriends.
I park in front of her building, in my usual spot, and wonder if any of her neighbors recognize my car. I wish I had put on clothes that were more obviously gay, wish I had revved the engine louder on my way into the lot. She wouldn’t be happy if anyone noticed me, but I can’t help wanting to leave a mark that can’t be erased.
The night is too warm to be comfortable. I sniff as I pass under a stand of trees. Because it’s late, my allergy medicine is wearing off. The light in Thea’s window is on.
My body knew her at once, but my brain didn’t. I stood in the grocery store line trying to understand why I was so instantly aroused by someone who wasn’t my type.
I have mostly dated butches. I like muscular arms, the way boxer shorts look on a woman, and a whole lot of swagger.
The woman who had captured my attention had on a calf-length dress in a shapeless, conservative cut, wore her hair long and unstyled, and carried a tote bag emblazoned with the logo of a fundamentalist church. Not my type for a lot of reasons.
Her shoes were the gayest thing about her, but I knew I shouldn’t read too much into sensible flats.
Her arms, though… She had forearm definition, and her three-quarter sleeves seemed suspiciously tight. I couldn’t prevent myself from drifting into a fantasy of this woman above me using all that muscle to drive into me the way that really counts.
She got to the front of the line and turned back to pull groceries out of her cart. Impossibly, I recognized Thea.
That woman had been above me. I had felt the force of those strong arms, and I had loved every moment of it. My inner thighs quivered as my body relived the experience right there beside the tabloids, breath mints and deeply discounted beef jerky.
I couldn’t prevent myself from blurting out her name. She flinched at the sound of my voice.
I had barely seen her since the night of the concert, and not at all since college. She had gone over to her parents’ place without me the evening after Tegan and Sara, and the next time we met up, she avoided my eyes and made flimsy excuses. I never really found out why we went from wild passion on the street to nodding awkwardly at each other in the hallways.
Thea apparently did not want to give me a chance to ask any questions. After the cashier finished ringing her up, she pushed her cart out to the parking lot faster than a shopping-spree winner on a game show.
I dropped my basket of groceries at my feet and ran after her, ignoring people’s curses and startled exclamations as I pushed past them.
She had bags to load into her trunk, and even with her strong arms, she couldn’t do that before I caught up with her. I grabbed her car’s bumper, panting, grateful for every minute of cardio I’d put in recently at the gym.
“Thea, wait.”
“We shouldn’t be talking, Mel.”
“Why not?”
She gave me a significant look, but I refused to interpret it for her. Besides, the main thing I got from it was a fresh jolt of attraction when she met my eyes intensely. I could tell she felt it, too. She’d always had a way of tossing her head like an animal about to charge just before she kissed me, and she did it now, her strange new long hair floating around her face as she did.
“Why not?” I repeated.
She cleared her throat and dropped her eyes. “My parents will hear about it if I backslide.”
“If you backslide? I just wanted to talk to you, find out how you’ve been.”
“I’ve been well.” Her voice was reedy, less confident than I’d ever heard it. She moved as if to square her shoulders, but she wasn’t actually standing tall.
“For Christ’s sake, Thea.” She frowned, and I wondered if it was because I’d taken the Lord’s name in vain. “For…Pete’s sake, I guess. No, forget that. I have no idea who Pete is. How about for your sake? What happened to you?”
Was that a smile that flashed across her lips? If it was, it faded quickly. “I can’t talk about it.”
“Thea, we used to be in love. I still care about you. You can tell me, whatever it is.”
She flinched again, and I wished she would stop doing that. She glanced over each shoulder, and then turned back to me. “Lower your voice, Mel. Most people don’t know about my past.”
“ Our past.”
Thea bit her lip. “I’m straight,” she said, her voice wavering. “I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”
That hurt my pride. “Why would I be disappointed? Maybe I’ve got a superhot new girlfriend who makes me come way harder than you ever did. Maybe I think back on what you and I had, and it all seems childish to me.” I had to stop talking, because I found myself suddenly on the verge of tears.
Thea’s mouth twitched into a shadow of her old cocky smile. My face heated as my body reacted to it the way it always had. “None of that is true and you know it,” Thea said.
That was the woman I’d never been able to forget. I wanted to climb into the backseat of her sedan right then and there.
I grabbed for Thea’s hand, but she snatched her fingers away. “I can’t, Mel. Don’t you understand that I can’t?”
She ran for the driver’s-side door, but I didn’t chase her. I just folded my arms across my chest. “No,” I called after her. “Because I know you can.”
Tonight, I’ve got half a mind to slap her hands away when she tries to touch me, lift up my skirt, show her my lacy black thong and tell her she can only have my pussy if she cops to what she sees in our future. Does she think she can play straight forever?
I push the buzzer beside the main door of the building. My pulse races as I wait for the sound of the lock releasing for me. The elevator is too slow for my taste. I dart around the corner and yank open the door to the stairwell.
; I hustle up four flights, but pause at the top. I’m always a little worried that I’ll get this close but she’ll decide not to let me in.
This time, though, the door is cracked for me. I swear I can already smell the rose and lime scent of her body lotion, even from out in the dingy hallway.
My strides get longer. I slip through the space she opened for me, and I don’t want to be furtive about it, but I am. Her entranceway and living area are dark. The only light in the apartment is coming from the bedroom, and that seems like such an appropriate metaphor for our relationship that it makes me a little sick. I head toward it. That’s all I’ve ever been able to do.
Thea’s first late-night text came two days after I ran into her at the grocery store. I had the same number I’d used in college, but she’d apparently changed hers.
She said she wanted to talk, and I was stupid enough to believe her.
I drove to meet her at IHOP, but before I could walk into the restaurant, a car in a secluded corner of the parking lot flashed its lights. Its passenger door popped open. I walked over and got inside, and Thea kissed me before I could say a word.
She was half starved, pawing at me with a shocking lack of coordination. I needed her just as badly, so I climbed over the gearshift, awkwardly inserted myself between the steering wheel and her body, and let her get away with touching me without explaining anything.
I choked on the humidity of her closed-in car and strained to see her face in the dim light from the restaurant’s sign. She kissed me as if the inside of my mouth contained water, air, light and food, but her hands stayed outside of my clothes, and soon my body was hot and wet while my mind roiled with confusion.
She tore a button off my shirt, and then froze and began to apologize.
“Stop it,” I said, and tore another button off myself.
I grabbed her hand. Looking into her eyes as best I could in the darkness, I guided her fingers into the space made by the missing buttons, leading her to the edge of my bra. Thea gasped, and her fingers fluttered. I helped her even more, tugging my underwire upward to let my breasts spill out beneath. One of them landed in her hand.