Lesbians Love Licking: 10 Story Lesbian Erotic Collection W/ BONUS! (Lesbian Erotic Romance)

by Nicolette Dane

  “Yes,” she softly cooed against my neck, her voice low and almost inaudible. I began to thrust my fingers back and forth into her, using my thumb to caringly fondle her clit. In turn, Dinah squeezed once more at my lips and absentmindedly rubbed my hip in a small circle.

  The two of us continued to rub up against one another, each with a handle on the other’s pussy. My fingers easily coursed in and out of her, assisted by the growing wetness created from her arousal. Dinah squeaked little moans up against my flesh with each push, her breath becoming syncopated with my ardent thrusts.

  I could feel sweat accumulating on my brow and at the small of my back, mounted and moving up against this petite beauty, and I kissed her forehead sweetly, letting my lips linger and my mouth breathe warmth onto her skin.

  Dinah subtly moved her hand from my hip and down to her mound, using her own fingers to manipulate her clit as I pushed my fingers inside of her. Her hand that had been fondling me pulled back and rested on her stomach, her eyes closed, her motions steady. I could tell she was feeling wonderful and focusing on herself. I wanted nothing more than to help lead her to orgasm.

  Her hips started lifting up off of the couch in rhythm with my penetrations and her breathing became choppy and short. She still squeaked as she breathed, though her noises were getting higher in timbre and she held her head firmer against me. I looked down at our joint effort and her hand was circling even faster on her clit, masturbating herself toward the precipice as my fingers flew back and forth with mounting sounds of wet flesh slapping.

  “Don’t stop,” she moaned, her chest heaving, small breasts that barely stuck out at all moving up and down with her panting.

  Then Dinah quivered, her thighs shaking, her hips bucking up. Her squeaking moans and hot breaths turning into joyous weeping. I could feel her pussy clench against my fingers, then release, then clench once more. She ceased her own fondling, simply holding onto her clit now between her fingers, as her body shuddered.

  After a few more moments of this shaking and shivering, Dinah’s ass fell back to the couch cushion and she began to dissolve into it. Her hand grabbed mine, fingers still inserted, and steadied it, intimating that she was coming down. I slowly removed my fingers and eased up from our lying position, my knees positioned to either side of her body there on the couch.

  Dinah placed a hand on her chest, her eyes closed, her breaths becoming deep and purposeful.

  I brought my fingers up and looked at them, wet and creamy with Dinah’s lubricant. I pressed my fingers together and then pulled them apart, seeing a thin gooiness between them. Curious, I ran my tongue over my fingers and tasted Dinah’s pussy. It was sweet, light, floral. My heart melted.

  “Oh my,” Dinah sighed submissively. Her eyes opened and she looked up at me and gave a drunken smile. “Thank you,” she said, using her hand to gently massage my thigh.

  “You’re welcome,” I said, my heart thumping hard, my pussy still aching for her. I lowered my fingers, still coated in her juices, and rubbed them into my own womanhood a couple of times to assay its sensitivity.

  “Can I stay over tonight?” Dinah queried, her expression relaxed and content.

  “Of course,” I said, smiling adoringly down at her.

  *

  A couple of days later the theatre was abuzz with the heartbreaking news that one of our soloists, Maura, had broken her foot. Maura was devastated and our production team was pulling out their collective hair. While the girls in the corps de ballet were all weeping for their fallen comrade, having been a dancer I knew what they were all feeling on the inside: opportunity.

  I was sitting in my office, pouring over some notes, and trying to get a plan in order, when Charles busted in. He never knocked. As Artistic Director, he felt that the theatre was his and he had license to go wherever he pleased, unannounced, and no matter where you might be in the entire building you knew that, at any moment, Charles could be standing in front of you, behind you, or quite possibly even infiltrating your mind.

  “Mish, my dear,” he belted out as he crashed into my office, quickly righting a chair in front of my desk, and histrionically falling down into it. “I assume you know why I’m here.”

  “Of course, sir,” I said. “I’m figuring out right now what our next move should be.”

  “Poor Maura,” Charles lamented. “Such promise, such grace. The young woman is positively wretched over this. She’s tied herself into a knot, vomiting out cries of hysteria.”

  “Vomiting, sir?” I said.

  “You know what I mean,” he countered. “I feel for her, of course, but the show must go on,” he said, thrusting a dramatic finger up into the air.

  “Agreed,” I said. “Who do you have in mind to replace her?”

  “I’m going back and forth between a few of the junior dancers in the corps de ballet,” he said. “I’m unsure if any of them are quite ready to take up such an important role, but I’m leaning toward Dinah.”

  “Dinah?” I said with surprise. My mind drifted back to the evening Dinah and I shared and my heart fluttered. Since Dinah had slept over, our interactions at the theatre had been overly professional when others were around, and rather touchy-feely when we felt we were alone.

  “You don’t think she’s the one?” Charles inquired, taking the glasses off of his face and letting them dangle on his chest by the thin stretch of string around his neck. “Who were you considering, if I may ask?”

  “No,” I said, correcting his assumption. “I didn’t say that. I think Dinah could be an excellent choice to promote to soloist in this production.”

  “We’ll have to work her much harder to prepare her in time for the opening,” Charles said. “Do we think she can handle the extra load?”

  “I believe so, sir,” I said, beginning to feel giddy inside. To think that Dinah, my new little lover, could take over as a soloist in this grand of a production and I would get to break the news to her. Perhaps it was what she was after all along by sleeping with me, by seducing me. But I didn’t care. I was elated.

  “I want you to think about it, Mish, before we make a decision,” said Charles, now standing from his chair and easing toward the door. “Analyze the notes, watch the rehearsal tape,” he said. “Let’s keep this between you and me for now and announce it in the morning once the dust of this unfortunate news has settled. Let’s give Maura a little time to grieve, you understand.”

  “Yes sir,” I said.

  As Charles left me, I was brimming with excitement. Of course, I wanted to run to Dinah right away and tell her but I had to keep it secret as Charles instructed. Still, I knew that Dinah was my choice. I didn’t have to watch any tape, review any notes. I knew it was Dinah in my heart, I had known for a while. She would be a star some day.

  *

  I carried a thick binder down one of the theatre’s longer hallways, my steps echoing throughout, and I fussed absentmindedly with my hair held in a high bun. Holding in the enthusiasm was becoming difficult. Though I did indeed feel bad for Maura, I couldn’t help but think of the pleasure I would receive in promoting Dinah. As I approached the stairwell leading up to the second floor administration offices, I saw one of the girls from the corps de ballet, Lacy, coming down the steps and looking at me with a knowing smile.

  Lacy was a terrific dancer, she herself destined to excel in this art, and she was beautiful and sharp. Sometimes almost two sharp, like she was plotting something, her eyebrows revealing a certain deviousness. Approaching the bottom of the stairs, Lacy was dressed for rehearsal in white tights and a leotard, her black hair already done up in a tightly woven bun.

  “Mish,” she called to me as we met at the bottom of the stairs. She had a grin stretched across her face. “Can we chat?”

  “Hi Lacy,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “The girls have been talking,” she said. “About Maura.”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s very unfortunate about her accident.”

  “Is i
t true that Charles means to promote someone from the corps to take her place?” Lacy asked.

  “We’re still figuring that out, dear,” I said. “I’m sure it will be a topic of conversation today at rehearsal. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to—”

  “Mish,” she said, blocking my way to the stairs with her small frame. “I know Charles looks to you for guidance.”

  “Lacy, I really must be going,” I said. “We can talk about this later.”

  “I know about you and Dinah,” she said. I’m sure the color drained from my face at that moment, informing Lacy of my guilt, and I suddenly felt incredibly trapped. Cornered. Powerless.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lacy,” I countered. “Please let me pass.”

  “I want to take Maura’s place,” said Lacy, her stance as firm as her voice, resolute in her blackmail. “If I’m not given Maura’s role as soloist, I’ll tell everybody about you and Dinah.”

  “You don’t scare me, Lacy,” I said. “There’s nothing to know about Dinah and I. She’s a dancer in the corps whom I direct, just like you.”

  Putting my hand on Lacy’s shoulder, I pushed past her and began trudging up the staircase and away from the young extortionist, my heels clacking on each step as I ascended.

  “I know she stayed at your house the other night,” Lacy called up the stairs behind me. “I want to be made soloist,” she reaffirmed, and then stormed off in a huff in the opposite direction.

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How had Lacy found out about my and Dinah’s tryst? It was unfathomable. Of course I had told no one about it, that much I knew. So it came down to Dinah. There must had been a moment when she let it slip. Perhaps she hadn’t covered herself well enough with a story to assuage the interest of the other girls. I needed to find Dinah. All of my highs were stumbling into lows. I felt like I could throw up.

  *

  “That’s all for today,” said Charles, rising from his seat and clapping for the dancers on the stage. I remained seated, almost shrinking in my chair, as the entire company waited with excited impatience as to the announcement they knew was coming. We had conducted the entire rehearsal without Maura, instead having one of our choreographers fill in, and many in the corps knew this was their chance to climb the ranks and grab their star.

  I could feel Lacy looking at me, her gaze stern and angry, as she milled about with the others on stage. Dinah smiled at me softly and then turned to chat with one of her fellow corps dancers.

  “Attention people,” continued Charles. “You all know that Maura has suffered an unfortunate accident and her role in the show will need to be replaced.”

  As Charles spoke, the company grew silent and gave him full attention.

  “Mish and I will be deliberating as to whom shall fill this role,” he went on. “The new soloist will indeed come from the corps de ballet,” Charles said, rousing a clamor among the young women in the corps. “Please,” he said austerely, inspiring sudden silence. “Thank you. Moving on, we will hopefully come to a decision by tomorrow’s rehearsal,” he said. “This is not political. We will be choosing based on talent and whom we think will best execute the role. Mish, do you have anything to add?”

  “I don’t, sir,” I said.

  “Very well,” Charles surmised. “You are all dismissed.” With that, Charles gathered his notebooks and traipsed off down the aisle and toward the exit as the company remained on stage enthusiastically talking with each other about this dramatic prospect.

  I lowered myself further into my seat, releasing an exhausted sigh, and I opened up my binder to look busy. I knew if I got up and walked off I would be stopped by the girls, but perhaps if I stayed and waited it out, they would all leave and I could exit without speaking to anyone.

  It was difficult to not beat myself up inside. Had I, only days ago, contained my lust for Dinah, had I not spent the night with her, I could very easily and rightfully give her this promotion, a job that could surely take her to the next level in her career. Yet because of my irresponsibility I was being extorted by Lacy, still quite a talented dancer but undeserving of the role over Dinah. At stake was my career, my life, for I knew that Charles would certainly dismiss me where he to find out I had brought such drama into his production. He preferred scripted drama to the real life sort.

  As I blindly stared into my binder, pondering my fate, I felt a presence hovering next me and looked up. It was Dinah, grinning down at me.

  “Mish,” she said softly. “It’s really happening, just like you said.”

  “Dinah, I—” I said, unable to finish.

  “I’d prefer it not happen this way, with Maura having that injury,” said Dinah. “But I’m excited for what’s to come!”

  As Dinah and I spoke, I looked up toward the stage and noticed Lacy eyeing us, her arms crossed, a dark grimace on her face. The other girls conversed happily around her, but she just watched in our direction. Our gazes met and she raised her eyebrow suggestively, then turning from me to reenter the colloquium with the others.

  “Dinah,” I went on. “Sit down.” She followed my orders and sat next to me, her expression growing more concerned.

  “What’s wrong, Mish?” she said, reaching her hand over and placing it on my arm.

  “Listen,” I started. “Did you tell Lacy anything about what happened between us?” I spoke in a slight whisper, especially when saying Lacy’s name to avoid any unwanted attention.

  “Well, I—“ said Dinah, diving into deep thought. “I think I did tell her that I was going to your place the other night.”

  “You did,” I said matter-of-factly.

  “I’m sorry,” said Dinah. “It just slipped out.”

  “Dinah, Lacy is now trying to blackmail me into convincing Charles to give her Maura’s role,” I said. Dinah’s face changed from concern to a visage of shock. “She stopped me in the hall and told me that if I don’t get her that part, she’ll tell everybody about us.”

  “Oh my God,” said Dinah with sadness in her voice. “Are you serious? She said that?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Of course I want you to have it, I want you to be a soloist, but if Charles finds out about what we did I’ll lose my job.”

  “Mish,” mourned Dinah, a tear forming in her eye. “This is my dream.”

  “I know, dear,” I said. “It’s wrecking me inside.”

  Dinah began to quietly sob, lowering her head and dropping her hands to her lap. Reaching over, I tenderly rubbed her back and sighed heavy-heartedly. I couldn’t help but look to the stage and again I caught a look from Lacy, who smiled sweetly at me. She could see that Dinah was sobbing and could, I’m sure, infer what I had said to her.

  “If it’s any consolation to you,” I said. “Charles mentioned you first.”

  Dinah said nothing. She was broken. I wished I could disappear.

  *

  At home that night I was having such a difficult time coping that I opened a bottle of wine and poured myself a glass. This may not seem out of the ordinary to you, but ballerinas rarely, if ever, drink alcohol. In fact, I never even tasted wine until I was 27 and I still have never had beer or any other liquor. We just work too hard as dancers to even have time to drink, nor do the additional and unnecessary calories entice us into drinking. The straight and narrow life of a dancer.

  But I was hardly a dancer anymore.

  I sipped from my glass and wallowed in my sadness in the kitchen, slumping against the kitchen island and dwelling on what would happen in the morning. I knew I would have a meeting with Charles before rehearsal and I knew we would have to make a firm decision.

  Dinah was the right choice for the soloist promotion, I knew that. Charles knew that. And I believe the corps knew that, perhaps even Lacy. It’s sad how much politics play a role in the arts – talent, drive, ability, at a certain point it doesn’t matter all that much. Sometimes you need to make an unpopular, an incorrect decision, just to keep the status quo, to k
eep a project moving without some sort of unnecessary dramatic interruption. It was hard enough that Maura was injured. She had real talent, real drive, and she would still have a successful career despite this setback. I could see Maura as a principal dancer. Just not this year.

  Dinah was like Maura, just a couple years back. I knew she could succeed in this business, this art. Oh Dinah. Just the thought of her made my heart palpitate. So lovely, slight, innocent in a way. The idea that she could be playing me because of my position, it just didn’t seem possible. Our night we spent together was too perfect to fake.

  I took another sip of wine and picked up my phone, carrying it and the glass with me as I paced around my condo. I opened up my address book and thumbed through it, landing on Maura’s phone number. I had barely spoken to her since the accident and I knew it was irresponsible of me to ignore her and her feelings. She was, after all, important to our company and her voice should be heard.

  Sauntering into my bedroom, I crawled up onto my bed and flicked my bedside lamp on. My wine glass sat on the table and I eased back into my pillows, my finger hovering over the “call” button. Perhaps Maura could help make my decision for me.

  The phone rang a handful of times before Maura finally answered.

  “Hello?” came a weak, sad-sounding voice on the other end.

  “Maura,” I said. “It’s Mish.”

  “Hi Mish,” she said. “You’re calling quite late.” It was only nine, but I knew she was used to turning in early because of her usually quite grueling schedule.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just wanted to phone you and wish you my condolences on your injury.” I could hear her sniffle through the phone.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t upset about it.”

  “It’s quite sad,” I said. “You know how much you mean to the company and to me personally.”

  “I know,” she said. “Thank you for saying it.”

  “You know that I, along with Charles, have the very difficult job of trying to replace you,” I said. “Which, I might add, is a near impossibility because of what you bring to the company.”