Girls Who Score

by Ily Goyanes

  And then I’m coming. That damned waxer humming lowly somewhere in the gym. The most bad-ass girl on the team practically on her belly sucking me off. A fine tremble still shaking my exhausted thighs. That’s when I start to laugh.

  “Good for you, Bowmen. A sense of humor will get you places,” Chevy says, sitting up. She palms my breasts and kisses me one more time. “Now come on.”

  I take her hand as she stands and offers it. She pulls me to my feet and I wait for my heart to stop pounding and my legs to stop shaking. “Where’re we going?”

  “Food and then…” She winks.

  “And then?”

  “More chairs. You didn’t think I was done with you, did you? You have tons more to do before your thighs are as strong as I want them.”

  “Oh?”

  “But don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  I just bet she will. But I plan to make it worth her while too. Every good trainer deserves her own reward.

  BLOOD LUST

  Gina Marie

  Rae knew the minute she saw the chick’s blood on her face that she had to have her. What was her name?

  “Fuck you, bitch—I’m taking you out!” were the only words she heard the cunt say. What did her coach call her? Marinda? Even though it was just a sparring match, girls always fight to kill. Marinda was no exception, and she fought like an animal. Rae guessed she fucked like one too. In the locker room, Rae pulled her hair out of the rubber band, letting the thick waves loose, and tipped her chin up into the mirror to examine the damage.

  That’s when she saw it, a little smear of the bitch’s dark blood; a long, thick streak at the edge of the bruise staining her right cheek purple. The sight of it made her incredibly hot.

  Of course, it didn’t take much. Rae had been horny since she had discovered a dirty magazine in her grandfather’s nightstand drawer when she was fourteen. She’d never forgotten the story of hot lesbians exploring the wild side—words like juice and tight turning her on even then. If she had been a good girl, she would have stuffed that rag right back where she found it, but she wasn’t and she didn’t. She’d crouched in the semidark of the bedroom and flipped it open to a hot tale of lesbian lust and a few other surprises.

  By the time she heard footsteps and was forced to put the magazine back in its not-so-hidden hiding place, all of those delicious words had been seared into her brain. Fuck. Cherry. Dildo. Slick. Cock. Hard. Tit. Pop. Blow. Red. Cunt. Down. Dong. Bang. Spread. Wet. Hard. Pinch. Stroke. She spent the entire afternoon whispering them to herself, enjoying the way they felt in her mouth, the way they buzzed in her brain, the wicked way they tingled everywhere else.

  She whispered the words now as she thought about Marinda—tangling with her in the sheets, biting at her bruised skin, strapping on a huge black dildo and slamming it into Marinda’s shiny red cunt. She could taste the salty sweetness of Marinda’s knife-point nipples, hear the pussy-wrenching stream of filthy words spewing from her naughty mouth.

  Rae felt her clit harden as she closed her eyes and played the sparring match back in her mind, remembering the Christmas-y feeling of joy that comes with a good, solid blow to the face… the sexual excitement of striking Marinda’s jaw hard, the thrill of watching the little trickle of blood from her cut lip streaming down her chin.

  Rae stood there lost in lust-thought in front of the mirror, a wet towel poised to wipe the blood away. At that moment Marinda walked in and stood behind her, staring her reflection down, her jaw puffy, eyes flashing with anger, her face still glazed with a bright sheen of sweat.

  Rae put the towel down and straightened her back. “Nice fight, bitch.”

  “You too, whore.”

  Marinda moved in close and grabbed Rae’s ass, not once removing her dark, vicious gaze from Rae’s reflection in the mirror.

  “I know what you want from me, Sugar Rae.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been around.”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Marinda.”

  “It’s Lucinda to you, Miss Cherry pie à la fucking mode.”

  “Fine. Don’t fuck with me, Lucinda.”

  “Oh, I will fuck with you. I will fuck with you till you can’t take it anymore. But you won’t get it that easy.”

  “Really? Is that your game? Playing hard to get?”

  Rae was breathing hard; Marinda’s hands were reaching around, her fingers teasing Rae’s crotch.

  “No, baby, not hard to get. Hard to hit. Best two out of three.”

  Rae nearly exploded on the spot. She wiped the blood from her cheek and turned around. Lucinda leaned forward and pulled Rae in close by the back of her neck, their lips nearly touching.

  “Bring your best game, lover girl,” she growled. “I don’t know what’s going on in your twisted fucking mind, but just so you know, if you lose—and you most likely will—you’ll be begging for mercy at the working end of my whip.”

  Rae licked her lower lip and smiled seductively. “You toss me a cherry bomb and I’ll throw you a grenade. I’m always ready for action. May the best bitch win.”

  Lucinda’s manager arranged a three-fight matchup and promoted the hell out of it. Posters, radio announcements, media coverage—the works. The bawdy crowd of spectators may have felt a certain “sexlectric” charge in the air, but of course they didn’t know what the true stakes were. The personal challenge wasn’t announced in the paper.

  After two draws, Lucinda nailed Rae on the last night with a blow that put her on her ass and nearly knocked her out. She got back up in time, but couldn’t find her rhythm. A deal’s a deal. Time to pay up.

  In the locker room after the final match, Rae did her best to ignore Lucinda as she stripped out of her gear and sweat-drenched clothing with an air of winner’s bravado. Then Rae felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around slowly. Lucinda stood inches away, naked, the smell of battle rising from her skin. Her eyes flashed fire. She handed Rae a slip of paper: You lose. 540-555-0990.

  Rae imagined Lucinda laced up tight in a black vinyl corset and crotchless panties, standing over her as she awaited punishment on all fours, collared and leashed like a tamed beast. She could see, could hear, the lashing sound as Lucinda gripped the leather handle and cocked her muscular arm. She could feel her ass stinging as she took her loser’s place at the working end of the whip. She preferred to be the girl on top, but the dirty thoughts still caused her pussy to scream and drip, hot thick juice sliding down her thighs. And those words, those dangerous words, came swirling back into her mind. Fuck. Crop. Slip. Core. Hard. Bite. Knife. Whip. Growl. Slide. Clit. Ache.

  Without a word and without looking up, Rae took the number from Lucinda’s taped fingers, tucked it into the pocket of her gym bag and continued toweling off.

  Saturday evening, Rae pushed the numbers into her cell. Lucinda answered on the sixth ring. “Lucy here.”

  “Hi Lucinda, uh, Lucy, it’s Rae. You know, the loser.”

  “Loser Rae! Hello, baby!”

  Lucinda sounded almost sweet on the phone. Rae was a bit taken aback, unsure of how to respond to her tone.

  “So, uh, what do you…?”

  Lucinda rattled off an address on the east side of town. “See you at my place at five.”

  When Rae pulled up in her car, Lucinda was sitting on the curb in front of a row of loft apartments and shops, licking at pink drippings sliding down the side of a double-scoop strawberry ice-cream cone. She was quite innocent looking in a green and white polka dot shirtdress and strappy sandals. Her hair hung loose and shiny, her lips tinted dark red and wet with sugar and cream.

  What about rage? What about punishment?

  Lucinda waved, licked and smiled.

  “Hey, babe! Welcome to the ’hood! That’s my loft up there—with the black balcony rail. Want a cone? Moxy’s makes the best ice cream in the universe. Hand cranked and triple whipped!”

  Forget about the cone—Rae would be happy to lick the drips right from Lu
cinda’s hot lips.

  “I’d love a cone,” Rae smiled.

  As she stood at the counter ordering, Rae glanced back at Lucinda, still sitting on the curb mouthing her treat.

  Rae carried her hand-cranked, triple-whipped cone outside and lapped at the cool creaminess with the tip of her tongue.

  Lucinda stood and smoothed her dress, then leaned toward Rae. “You have some ice cream on your…” She smiled, leaned closer and slowly licked the drip from Rae’s cheek.

  A jumble of words began popping through Rae’s brain again.

  Silky. Candy. Softly. Lusty. Drippy. Sweetly. Horny. Sexy. Smoothly. Slippery. Fuck.

  Maybe losing wasn’t so bad after all.

  Rae followed Lucy upstairs into her loft. She licked her cone and looked around. The place was gorgeous—sparely yet beautifully furnished, the walls painted in the soothing colors of earth and basalt—Rae thought it looked like a Zen love palace. The minimalist décor gave the space a sense of elegance without being “soft.” Rae felt herself moisten as Lucy took her on a quick tour. Fuck shui, she thought to herself as she took it all in. Gorgeous black-and-white photography hung in gallery frames. Cityscapes were interspersed with nudes and shots of simple objects like rocks and water.

  “Lucy, your place is beautiful. Are you a photographer?”

  Lucy turned and stole a mouthful of Rae’s cone, smacking her lips, ignoring the question. “The master bedroom is this way.”

  A king-sized futon covered with a dark gray silk comforter and white silk pillows embroidered with Asian cranes was situated slightly off center, set off by a wall-mounted headboard made of hundreds of small, glossy river stones. There was nothing else in the room except professionally framed photographs similar to the ones hanging throughout the loft, a simple walnut dresser, a woven bamboo lamp and an antique black lacquer chair. As they entered what seemed like a sacred space, Lucy lifted a large black professional-looking digital camera from the dresser.

  “Yes, I am a photographer—my other job when I’m not beating the shit out of people. Smile and look pretty.”

  Rae began tumbling through a hot naked photo shoot in her mind as Lucy simply tilted the camera slightly and clicked once.

  “You fill the frame nicely,” Lucy smiled, clicking again, the camera now level with Rae’s torso, casually held in Lucy’s hands.

  “That’s so cool,” Rae said sincerely. “These must be your photographs on the walls. They’re amazing. I have the most unglamorous job in the world—when I’m not beating the shit out of people, of course. I own a small landscaping business.”

  “Landscaping is totally artistic,” Lucy said, raising the camera again, snapping a few candid shots. “But enough about what you do. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Rae almost blushed before she went with Lucy’s cue.

  “You did kick my ass. I guess I have to obey.”

  Rae lifted her shirt to show off her navel. “You got me good right here,” she said, pointing to a fading bruise low on her torso near her right hip.

  “You are so ripped,” Lucy said, enjoying the peek at Rae’s bare skin. “I remember that one—I could feel my fist bouncing off of your abs—like bones tapping on a kettle drum. Now take off your shirt, loser,” she commanded, still looking so fucking cute in her polka dots.

  Rae smiled and slowly began lifting her top—a black halter with a gathered bust and orange poppies blooming up the side.

  Her unencumbered breasts blossomed forth as she pulled the cotton fabric over her head and stood there defiantly, Lucy circling around as if warming up for a sparring match, pressing the shutter again and again.

  “Nice tatas, chica!” Lucy exclaimed. “Damn!”

  “Thank you for the compliment, Lucinda,” Rae said in a snarky voice, her pussy dying for attention. She wanted to grab Lucy and take her down to the floor, but she just stood there obediently, completing Lucy’s fuck shui décor, bare breasted and barefoot in faded, tight blue jeans.

  Lucy set the camera down and moved in close, wrapping her arms tightly around Rae’s waist.

  “You smell good too. You smell like…mm…like some kind of berry.”

  “Berry? I smell like a berry?”

  “Not any berry—some kind of berry, but I can’t place it. Something unusual, but familiar. You smell fresh.”

  Lucy tilted her head, her glossy hair sweeping across Rae’s arm, driving her crazy with lust. Lips parted slightly, she kissed Rae firmly but tenderly full on the mouth, then opened her lips a little more and tickled Rae’s lips with the soft tip of her tongue.

  Finally tasting her was like quenching a terrible thirst. Rae kissed her back, accepting Lucy’s open invitation. The women pressed together, their lean, muscular bodies forming a statuesque pillar in the center of the room.

  “Do I taste like an unusual berry?” Rae questioned as Lucy began sucking on one of her breasts, her other hand reaching around to her ass.

  “You taste like sin. Delicious, hot sin.”

  Rae ran her hands through Lucy’s hair and leaned back as Lucy continued to pleasure her nipples and breasts, pressing them together and biting lightly, her tongue smooth and soft.

  Suddenly, she stopped and pulled away.

  Rae tried to pull her back.

  “Not yet. Get dressed. We’re going on a picnic.”

  “We are?”

  Rae wanted to fuck. Here. Now. In the fuck shui shrine. God, she wanted it bad. A picnic?

  “I want you to feed me grapes and read poetry to me. I warned you that you’d be at the working end of my whip, remember?”

  Fuck! Rae sighed with resignation and pulled her shirt back on, slowly tying it back into place before fetching her shoes and purse. Lucy changed into sexy jean short-shorts and a plain white V-neck T-shirt.

  In the kitchen, Lucy pulled a bottle of wine and some food containers from the refrigerator. She placed them in a quaint little wicker basket and handed Rae a woven blanket.

  “My car’s around back.”

  Rae’s nipples tingled and her cunt throbbed as they hopped into Lucy’s silver convertible Maserati.

  “It’s definitely picnic weather,” Rae said, trying to sound accommodating.

  “Yes, and the water will be perfect.”

  Lucy pulled on her shades and turned to Rae, grinning as they sped off.

  “What water?”

  “Athens Lake. You ever been there?”

  “I’ve done some bike riding around there—it’s nice.”

  “I know of a secret little place where we can hang out and go for a swim.”

  “I didn’t bring a suit.”

  “You don’t need a suit in the dark.”

  They arrived at the lake and Rae followed Lucy like an obedient servant loaded down with picnic supplies, down a trail that opened up onto a secluded grassy shore that sloped to the water. A few fishermen, tiny specks on the opposite bank, were the only people around.

  “Very nice!” Rae said with all sincerity, folding out the blanket. “This is such a great spot.”

  Lucy lay down on the blanket and tilted her face to catch the last few rays of the sun. “What a beautiful evening.”

  Rae began unpacking the basket, laying out Lucy’s meticulously prepared meal—cheese, olives, French bread, seedless black grapes, cherries, a plate of crudités, the bottle of red wine, and a dense-looking chocolate truffle cake with raspberry sauce.

  “Grapes milady, as you requested.”

  Rae held a juicy grape in her mouth and leaned over Lucy, slowly sliding it between her lips as the sun sank lower and lower on the horizon. Pretty soon they had polished off everything but the cake, including the entire bottle of wine.

  “Just leave your clothes on the blanket. Come on!”

  Lucy was serious about swimming. The sun had long since set. Stars had begun blinking on across the sky, reflecting in the inky blackness of the lake.

  Rae held out her hand and let Lucy pull her into the water, th
e initial shock sending shivers up her legs and across her butt. Silt and small stones on the lake bottom felt good on the soles of her feet.

  The starlight words began to rise. Fuck. Dark. Mouth. Wave. Cool. Star. Kiss. Skin. Stone. Glide. Sky. Float.

  The three-quarter moon cast a silver net across the water. Lucy pulled Rae deeper until they were both nipple high in the water, their hair floating atop the ripples.

  Rae pulled Lucy’s slippery naked body into hers, sliding her hand between her legs, finally connecting with her sex, the heat of her pussy radiating through the coolness of the water, warming Rae’s fingers.

  “Kiss me there,” Lucy whispered.

  Rae slid under the water and held onto Lucy’s hips as she sought her heat with her tongue. She licked at her softness, pressing her cheeks into Lucy’s goose-pimpled thighs for as long as she could before coming up for air.

  “My turn.”

  Lucy dove down to return the favor. Rae leaned her head back to soak in the seduction of the night sky, little wavelets and ripples forming around them as they stirred the blackness with their bodies.

  God, Lucy’s tongue on her clit was like a gift. She came up for air and Rae dove onto her breasts, sliding her hands around their perfect form, letting them float into her mouth. She continued to tease Lucy’s breasts, then lifted her ass and tilted her back until she was floating. Rae held Lucy’s weightless body on the surface of the water and slid her fingers deep into her cunt. Rae fucked her harder as she felt Lucy’s lips swell with pleasure.

  Lucy’s long legs spread wide in the water as she floated. The only sounds were intermittent frogs and crickets, a light breeze blowing through the surrounding trees and the lapping of wavelets across their skin. Lucy’s face shone silver in the moonlight. She tilted her head back farther in the water as Rae fucked her, rubbing her clit with her thumb, her fingers sinking deeper and deeper into her cunt, lifting her hips higher in the water. Lucy let out a constricted breath and her muscles clenched. Rae watched her face intently, entranced by Lucy’s eyelids and cheekbones glowing in the moonlight, her mouth open, tongue out slightly and gliding across her upper lip as she shuddered. “Yesss. Oh, sweet Sugar Rae, yesss.”