Girl Crush - A collection of five erotic stories

by Sommer Marsden

  I dried off, got into the bed and switched the TV on, but I felt restless. I texted Caz to see what she was up to, but she didn’t reply, so I figured she was out for the night – probably having a lot more fun than me, though that wouldn’t have been difficult. Feeling aggrieved, I flicked through the channels before turning the TV off. I decided to leave the light on all night, just a bedside lamp, as I still felt nervous. There was, however, a foolproof way that I knew would relax my mind and body and get me off to sleep.

  Reaching into my bag, I took out my favourite pink vibe and smiled. I had put new batteries in, anticipating that it would be well used for the next two nights. I sighed and slipped it between my thighs so the tip was resting gently on my clit. I switched it on, the slowest setting first, and savoured the gentle vibrations. It usually never took long with my faithful friend. By the time I was at level three, I was groaning with delight, the sensations pulsating though me, creating wonderful waves of pure pleasure. Bliss. I came several times, losing count as I drifted off into a peaceful, satisfied slumber.

  However, this was short-lived. I was abruptly awoken in the early hours by a loud crashing noise. Thinking I was still dreaming, I half roused myself, my senses dulled by sleep. Then my brain kicked into gear and I realised it was the sound of a chair falling over. I got up, not fully awake yet, but aware that something was not right. Stumbling out of the bed, I was horrified to see that the door was open. My heart missed a beat when I saw a figure outlined there. It was a man. I was so shocked I was unable to scream. I just stood there in my flimsy short T-shirt.

  We stared at each other in dazed silence. Then he said, ‘Please excuse me.’ He looked as scared as me. ‘I’m so sorry.’ His voice was soft and mellow. I wondered how a guest could get into the wrong room by mistake. Surely all the keys were different? Then the door closed and he was gone. I stood aghast, trembling.

  It was like a bad dream, a situation that, living alone in my cosy flat, I had always dreaded. I sat down by the phone, considering what to do next. Would he come back? What if he was a prowler? It took me a good ten minutes to compose myself. Then I picked up the phone, hands shaking, and rang the motel’s night desk.

  ‘Hello. I want to report an intruder in my room. A man just tried to get in.’

  ‘Yes, madam. I know.’ The voice was unnervingly familiar. ‘It was me.’

  I went silent. This was totally unexpected. I didn’t know what to think.

  ‘I’m the night porter. I cannot apologise enough. I assure you this sort of thing has never happened before. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I couldn’t lock the door,’ I muttered numbly. I felt very vulnerable.

  ‘There was a mix-up on the computer. We had a late arrival and I thought your room was empty,’ he explained. ‘I know that probably sounds unlikely to you right now, but believe me, it’s the truth.’

  ‘You scared me.’

  ‘I would offer to re-room you but we are fully booked. You will, of course, receive a full refund.’

  I considered packing my stuff, getting in my car and driving back home. But it was 1 a.m., bitterly cold and raining outside and I was tired.

  ‘At least let me fix the lock on your door,’ he offered. ‘Hopefully that might make you feel a bit safer.’

  ‘OK.’ It still felt unreal.

  While I waited, wrapping myself in a big white fluffy bathrobe, I texted Caz to tell her what had happened. Just in case …

  There was a timid knock on the door. I opened it carefully. He looked very sheepish. The night porter was in his early thirties, like me, and had warm brown eyes and soft dark hair.

  ‘I’m really sorry about what happened earlier,’ he said again. He seemed genuine and I felt more reassured. I noticed he was wearing a rather smart charcoal grey uniform. I had a thing for uniforms. He was also carrying a tool bag. I like a man with a good set of tools. I had often watched my rather attractive neighbour working on his car, and when the plumber came round, I liked to watch him too. There was something sexy about a man who knew how to handle his tools. Call me pervy, but it turned me on. A lot.

  ‘Can I come in?’ he asked cautiously.

  ‘Of course.’

  I studied his strong arms and hands as he took out a screwdriver and set to work on the lock. Long, slim fingers. Mmmmm.

  When he had finished he turned to me and said, ‘There, all fixed. You should have no more unwelcome visitors now.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I paused. ‘Would you like a cuppa?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not allowed. Anyway, I’ve caused you enough bother. I have to get back to work.’

  ‘At least stay with me a while longer,’ I insisted. ‘Until I feel less anxious.’

  It was a lie. Now I had spoken properly to him I felt surprisingly safe. If the truth be told, I was actually feeling quite aroused. The distinctive uniform he was wearing with the golden trim and shiny buttons, his set of tools … And the clincher … the huge bunch of heavy silvery keys on his belt that jangled when he moved. Caz had often teased me about my fetish. It was both the sight of them – they were shiny – and the sound they made. Keys meant power. Power was sexy.

  I gestured for him to sit by me on the edge of the bed. Now it was his turn to be anxious. His shoulder brushed against mine for the briefest of moments but it was enough to set my pulse racing. He glanced nervously at the bedside table and I wondered what he thought about the big pink vibe sitting there. I had forgotten to put it away. Oops.

  ‘I really should be going now,’ he began again.

  ‘Are you sure? I would like you to stay with me. Just a little longer.’

  ‘You’ll get me into trouble.’ But his face was so close now, I could feel his breath on my neck.

  ‘Please?’ I leaned over and kissed him. He didn’t pull away. At first, he let me caress his mouth with my lips and tongue, simply receiving the pleasure, but soon he was returning my attention, tentatively at first, then greedier until his passion matched my own. I let my bathrobe slip from my shoulders and his hands found my breasts, kneading and exploring my nipples through the thin fabric of my T-shirt. Slowly, he pushed me back onto the bed, lifting my T-shirt up over my head. He tossed it onto the carpet. God, I wanted him. In his uniform. As he started to unbutton his smart jacket I whispered, ‘No, leave it on.’

  I reached out and grabbed the bunch of keys on his leather belt, fingering and caressing them suggestively. Seeing this, he unhooked them from his belt and dangled them over my mouth, letting them stroke my lips. I licked and sucked the hard metal. He smiled, before slowly running them across my naked body, inch by inch, taking his time, lingering on my breasts and nipples. I trembled with delight at their coldness, although they soon picked up my body heat. He continued to track them down my belly towards my thighs. I shuddered with delighted anticipation as he rested them between my legs. It felt like a jolt of electricity was passing through my clit. Unable to control myself, I cried out. To stifle the sound, he covered my open mouth with his, kissing me hard, using his tongue. After a long, passionate kiss he looked into my eyes and murmured, ‘Shhh,’ resting one finger across my mouth.

  By now my clit was so wet I could almost taste it. The smell of my juices on the sheets was overpowering. Gradually, and very gently, he pushed the largest of the keys into my opening. I gasped. While he moved it slowly from side to side, he also exerted the lightest fingertip pressure on my clit. I was melting. The combination of the hard metal and his sensitive fingering brought me quickly to the edge. Before I knew what was happening, I had come, intensely and abruptly.

  He removed the key, placed it in his mouth and sucked it clean of my juices before clipping it back on his belt to join the others. My heart was racing but he continued to tantalise my helpless juicy clit, muffling my groans and whimpers with his left hand now, lowering his head to nibble and nip my exposed breasts as I wriggled and moaned, close to coming again. When he felt my muscles tensing, he took his fingers away and I bit his
hand, squealing with frustration.

  ‘Noisy bitch,’ he whispered, grabbing my vibe from the bedside table. I thrust my eager wet pussy towards it, writhing, hips arched. It had only been buzzing inside me for seconds before my clit exploded once more. He licked my favourite toy, the way he had the keys.

  As I lay there, still reeling, he straddled me, unzipped his flies and pushed his rigid cock into my mouth. He pumped me vigorously, without mercy, and just when I thought I would suffocate, it was his turn to explode. I thought I would choke, there was so much hot sticky fluid, but when he withdrew he put his hand over my mouth and murmured gruffly, ‘Swallow, slut. All of it.’

  I did.

  He rolled off and lay beside me, stroking my tousled hair with his long fingers, kissing the nape of my neck. I felt dizzy. And very tired.

  When I awoke, many hours later, I was alone. The duvet had been pulled over me so I wouldn’t get cold. My vibe was sitting innocently on the bedside table, as if it had never been moved. I snuggled up in the warm bed, reluctant to move. Unfortunately I had a computer course to go to. Glancing at my travel alarm clock, I sighed. Time to get up.

  As I soaped myself in the shower, I wondered if it had all been a dream. A vivid, horny dream.

  I listened to the news on breakfast television, dressed and picked up my bag. As I opened the door, I noticed something poking out underneath it. A white envelope. I bent down and picked it up. It felt hard. Tearing it open, I was surprised to find a key. A big, shiny key. And a yellow Post-it note with a room number and the words, ‘Guess who’s on duty again tonight?’

  I smiled. Maybe my stay in Basingstoke wouldn’t be so uneventful after all.

  Housemate Potential

  by Penelope Friday

  The Harley’s engine went from a loud roar to a dull murmur and then silence as it came to a standstill. Rob swung one leather-clad leg after another from the bike, checked the number of the house and walked firmly up the path. This was the right house, the place advertising for a housemate.

  The door opened just as Rob got to it. The guy was around Rob’s height (an inch or so under six foot), with blond hair and an uncertain smile.

  ‘I’m here about the room.’

  ‘Sorry?’ he said vaguely.

  Rob stripped the gloves from long-fingered hands, and pushed the helmet up. Blond guy looked – glanced away – looked again – as Rob’s dark hair tumbled down onto her shoulders.

  ‘Oh. You’re … um …’

  ‘Very tall for a woman,’ Rob supplied drily.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said weakly.

  She watched him glance over her body, knowing that he was looking for the signs that should have told him before that she was female: pausing a second on the snug leather jacket that hinted at her small rounded breasts before slipping lower. She allowed her own eyes to do the same, and was made aware that he was not displeased by what he saw.

  ‘The room?’ she pressed again.

  ‘Oh yeah. I’m Alex, by the way.’

  ‘Rob.’

  He half held out a hand, then dropped it as he realised that her hands were full with her helmet and gloves.

  ‘Do you want to leave these down here? They’ll be quite safe.’

  Rob piled her things neatly on the dresser by the door and followed him towards the staircase.

  ‘It’s up here.’

  Rob saw with amusement that he was having difficulty keeping his eyes off her. Presumably when he advertised for a housemate, a six-foot biker girl had not been his imagined respondent. All the same … he didn’t seem precisely upset. She followed close behind him on the stairs, making sure that he was ever aware of her presence, of her closeness – of her femininity.

  ‘Have you lived here long?’ she murmured.

  He jumped. Physically jumped. Rob bit back a smile: she oughtn’t to be doing this, but it was too tempting. He was too awareof her.

  ‘N-no …’ He paused. ‘No, I haven’t,’ he said more collectedly.

  ‘Chatty, aren’t you?’

  They’d reached the top of the stairs. He turned round to her and gave the apologetic smile again. ‘You … er … disconcert me.’

  Rob raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Not much contact with women?’

  ‘Not with women like you.’ He clearly regretted it the minute he said it, blushing a deep crimson that spread from his face to his neck.

  Again, Rob was forced to swallow her grin. Was this boy really as innocent as he seemed? Surely no one could be that naive? She wouldn’t mind discovering, either way.

  ‘So show me the bedroom,’ she invited.

  She heard his sharp intake of breath, but kept her eyes coolly fixed on his face, expression neutral. If he wanted, well, what it seemed like he wanted, he would have to make it clearer than this. And as the throb began to start between her thighs … she hoped that he would show her precisely what he needed.

  ‘Through here.’

  She brushed against him as they moved through the doorway into the small room, which was dominated by a double bed. He was still aroused: she could feel it, could hear the still uncertain breathing that showed his interest. Let him wait. Let him wait and wonder.

  ‘Nice decor.’

  The sarcasm was clear but not unkind. The room appeared to have been last decorated in the 1970s; psychedelic flowered wallpaper gave the room a claustrophobic edge. It made the mind spin as if delirious … made people act in ways perhaps unusual to them.

  It was perfect.

  ‘Um … you – I mean, whoever moves in – could always redecorate,’ Alex said.

  She was standing just behind him.

  ‘But do you think you’d like my way of redecorating?’ she whispered in his ear.

  He turned his head, fast, to look at her. Their similarity in height was at its most obvious now. Their eyes were on the same level – and so were their mouths. Rob waited.

  ‘I …’ Alex leaned forward and kissed her mouth, but he was still uncertain, Rob thought with amusement. What did he think she’d do to him? What – her heart rate quickened and she increased the pressure of their kiss – did he hopeshe’d do to him? She moved away and looked at him thoughtfully. His eyes had shut when they kissed, but she had kept hers open, wanting to use every sense available.

  ‘I think I might,’ he muttered. ‘Like it your way, I mean.’

  ‘That sounds promising.’

  Rob pulled the zip of her jacket down slowly, still keeping her eyes on Alex. She shrugged her shoulders out of it, and the leather creaked slightly as she pulled her arms out.

  ‘Hot in here, isn’t it?’ she said conversationally.

  ‘Um …’

  ‘Likely to get hotter, do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ But his breathing, she noted, was irregular.

  ‘I’ve always liked it hot. You?’

  ‘Depends where I am.’

  And how out of your depth you are,thought Rob. Alex was hesitant – very hesitant – but definitely not unwilling. Guiding him through, introducing him to new experiences, would be particularly satisfying. She would be kind (of course), and although she couldn’t guarantee it, she intended him nothing but pleasure. On her terms, obviously: that much was understood.

  She ran a hand across the back of her neck, underneath the cascade of brown hair. ‘Are you hot?’

  ‘Warm,’ he admitted.

  ‘It’s that jumper. Let me help you off with it.’

  Rob slid her hands underneath the jumper. He was wearing a thin cotton shirt, and she could feel his muscles through the material. She slid her hands upwards, taking the jumper with them; he bent his head to allow her to pull the material free.

  ‘Is that better?’

  ‘I guess,’ he answered.

  ‘Good.’

  If he was intending to wait for her to make all the moves, he was going to be sorely disappointed. He would have to work for his pleasure.

  She sat down on the bed and took anot
her look around the bedroom.

  ‘A large bed for the size of room, isn’t it?’ she suggested.

  ‘People seem to prefer it,’ he said uncomfortably, his eyes anywhere but on her face. ‘They like to have room.’

  ‘Room for what?’

  ‘Well, whatever, really, I guess.’

  ‘And is there room enough for you here?’

  He looked at her, scanning her body in an embarrassed fashion. Was he going to take the opportunity or not? Rob still wasn’t certain, which made it all the more interesting. He’d like to, she was sure of that – but his inhibitions were strong. There was a long uncomfortable silence that she made no move to break. Then: ‘Yeah,’ he said at last. ‘At least, I think so. And you?’

  ‘And me.’ She reached out and stroked a hand down his thigh. ‘Why don’t you come and sit down?’

  He obeyed. Rob was pleased. Alex might be shy, but he knew what he wanted. If they were lucky, their wants might even overlap. She leaned down to undo her bootlaces, and felt a warm dry hand on her arm.

  ‘Let me.’ It was more a request than an instruction; and the pink flush was again on his cheeks.

  She raised her eyebrows. Well, at any rate he seemed to be a quick learner. This might be even better than she had imagined! Lazily, she lifted a leg and placed one booted foot on his lap. Her boot was too solid to give her a good impression of his state of arousal, but he seemed keen enough. His fingers were slow but certain as he pulled the laces apart and slipped the first boot from her foot. She could feel his erection now, and she rubbed the sole of her foot suggestively against the bulge in his trousers.

  ‘You’re good,’ she approved.

  ‘The other foot?’ He was biting back his stammer in every word, his excitement obvious.

  She lifted her other foot over the first so that her feet were crossed. While he pulled at the fastenings of her left boot, she continued to move her right foot slowly and sensuously against him. His hands were more unsteady now: she had distracted him too much.

  ‘Why don’t you undress?’ she asked lazily. ‘I do believe the temperature is beginning to rise a little, don’t you?’