Girl Fever
Page 7
People got off the train, one by one, fewer boarding to replace them. And then they were alone. The doors hissed shut, the train jerked and swayed as it picked up momentum and Charlene exchanged a wicked look with Tilly. This was it.
Charlene swung to her feet, chest heaving with anticipation, eyes half lidded. Tilly, still seated, leaned forward to slowly run her hands up Charlene’s legs, gliding up silky-smooth skin, vanishing under the little white dress. Up, and then down they came again, taking Charlene’s panties with them, the skimpy white thong she only wore when she wanted to play out this fantasy. Charlene stepped out of them, gasping as cool air swept right up her legs. She bent down to undo Tilly’s belt buckle and unzip her jeans. Tilly was packing tonight, wearing her favorite strap-on, the one with the thick purple fake cock, and Charlene pulled it free and erect through the undone zipper. All in silence, because they’d rehearsed this in their fantasies a hundred times.
With time being of the essence, they moved quickly. Tilly slid forward, and Charlene straddled her, lowering her aching pussy onto the shaft, hissing with delight as it filled her. Moaning, Tilly reached out to rake her fingers over Charlene’s shoulders and back, while Charlene braced herself with her hands on the back of the seat, starting to rock up and down. Slow at first, but picking up speed, the dildo slick with her arousal, every movement sending a shock of pleasure against Tilly’s clit as well. They moved together, letting the train do half the work for them, bodies jostling, quiet groans escaping parted lips.
Charlene suddenly ducked down, capturing Tilly’s mouth in an eager, demanding kiss; Tilly tightened her grip, pulling her close. Charlene raised herself up and slammed herself down, taking the dildo as hard and fast as she could, feeling the orgasm rising within her until it finally burst forth. She screamed her release into Tilly’s mouth, her entire body tensing and shuddering, and Tilly urged her through it with a fierce joy, hips arched upward to press into her.
Spent, Charlene broke the kiss, pulling back with shaky limbs and heaving chest. Tilly had to help her up and off the strap-on, supporting her until she could collapse onto the seat. There was some very hasty rearranging of clothing as they made themselves presentable again. The thong was gone, kicked somewhere under the seat; neither felt like retrieving it: a sacrifice to the gods for a night well spent. All too soon, the train hissed to a stop, and a crowd of semi-drunken frat boys boarded. The girls exchanged a wry look. Just in time.
As Charlene and Tilly exited the train a few stops later, ready to head home and clean up, Tilly grinned impishly at her girlfriend. “Have I ever told you what my favorite movie scene is?”
THE SECOND TIME AROUND
Sara Lynde
In my experience (not exactly staggering, but I know a thing or two about how to please a handsome, sexy butch,) nightly sex that lasts for at least an hour is the norm in a new relationship. So when the inevitable first sexless night with Danny came, I felt a huge letdown. Never mind that the situation couldn’t really be helped. Let me explain.
Danny is a driver for Canfield Armored Car Service (guaranteed safe transport of cash and other valuables). It isn’t like being a cop, where you drive to work in your street clothes and change into your uniform at the police station. Danny dresses for work at home. She wears a uniform, badge, gun, and a utility belt with a lot of contraptions on it. Although she isn’t aware of it, every time she puts on her work clothes she turns me on to the point where I want to beg her to take me to bed and, what the hell, just show up a little late for work. But I never do that because Danny is very conscientious about her job. She wouldn’t miss a shift, or even be a minute late, unless it was a matter of life or death. She keeps her uniforms and equipment in tiptop shape. She’s always cool and in control—on the outside.
Oh, wait. I was about to explain about our first sexless night together. Due to an unforeseen crisis at Canfield Armored Car Service, Danny had to work a double shift. That night some guy on drugs or something tried to hold up Danny and her partner as they were loading the day’s receipts for the local Home Depot. They subdued him, but in the process Danny’s partner accidentally shot him in the arm, and that led to a trip to the police station to give a statement. Long story short, Danny finally got home at 3:45 A.M., exhausted. With only six hours until she had to leave for the morning shift, she crashed for what little sleep she could get before going back to work. So, no sex.
Anyway, I was about to describe the real Danny, the one that most people don’t see. Under her “tough guy” exterior is a sweet, sensitive, tender person who is also a tiger in bed. She knows exactly how to give me the most mind-blowing orgasms I’ve ever experienced, and she does so regularly.
As far as her own needs, I guess the word to describe Danny is “clitoral,” as opposed to me, maybe best described as “diversified.” Even when she’s not aroused, she has the biggest clitoris I’ve ever seen. It protrudes from her lips and if she doesn’t wear jockey briefs to cover it firmly, the sensation of her clothing rubbing against it goes from stimulating to aggravating to painful in short order. The only time she wants that kind of stimulation is when I’m the source, and I can guarantee you that for me it’s a pleasure like no other. Her response to my fingers, my tongue and the variety of toys we’ve tried is always the same: that gorgeous, sexy clit swells up and almost doubles in size. When she comes, it arouses me more than anything she does to me.
Oops—distracted from the story yet again. Sorry about that. I was entirely to blame for our second sexless night, which was two weeks later. Long story short, we went to a party and I drank too much. When we got home, the first thing I did was to pass out. The next morning I woke up two hours earlier than usual in a state of anxiety. I slipped out of bed, put on a robe, and started a pot of coffee. I downed two Extra Strength Excedrin with a large glass of water and then drank three cups of coffee while I contemplated the sad situation I had caused. I had planned a surprise for Danny when we got home from the party. It wasn’t a big deal. In fact, it was a rather small deal—a miniature vibrator (one AAA battery required) that attaches to your finger and runs at the equivalent of about 3,000 rpm. I figured she would either love it or hate it. But sadly, thanks to me it was neither, since I’d passed out and left her with nothing.
I heard stirring in the bedroom, then the bathroom, then the shower. A few minutes later, Danny came into the kitchen in her uniform. When I tried to apologize, she laughed and shushed me and said not to worry about it. She kissed me, harder and deeper than usual, and headed for the front door. I followed, unfastening my robe. I slipped my hand into the pocket where I had hidden the finger vibrator.
At the door she turned to me. She was grinning. Tonight, she said, we had a lot to make up for. I pressed closer and unzipped her fly. “And what if I can’t wait for tonight?” I wondered. Well, I was assured, tonight would be here before I knew it, and then… and then her eyes turned cloudy as I slipped my index finger through the slit in her briefs and grazed the tip of her clitoris. She pulled me into an embrace and I felt it swelling quickly. She leaned back against the door, her feet several inches apart.
With my robe open, she was able to claim me in whatever way suited her. She massaged my breast with her right hand and held me tightly against her with her left. I moved my right hand so that the vibrator on my middle finger covered her clit, and my first and third fingers cupped her firmly. I don’t know why, but I rested my left hand on the butt of her gun. She never took her eyes from mine. At first she moaned softly. Then her moans became the howls of a feral animal as the little vibrator worked its magic on her erect clit.
I felt her stiffen. There is nothing, nothing, nothing more exhilarating for me than bringing sexual fulfillment to a magnificent butch. I wanted this to last, but I knew how much she craved release. Seconds later, she cried out in ecstasy. There was no thrusting or bucking or thrashing. She pressed herself against me, and I felt every part of her body as her orgasm reverberated through it.
&nb
sp; I was almost insane with need. I told her that I would never, ever consider asking her to deliberately be late for work except in a life or death situation, and this definitely was one. I put her hand between my legs to prove it. When she felt the flood, her eyes widened and she broke into a huge smile. Yes, definitely an emergency, she agreed. She picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. What happened next was the greatest experience of my life, but that’s another story.
Anyway, there’s an old song about something being better the second time around. When it comes to sexless nights, I guess it’s true.
ROUTINE
Jessica Lennox
I love Saturdays. Anyone who works an 8-to-5 job relishes Saturdays, but my love is more than that. I’ve perfected Saturday mornings with a routine that I look forward to all week long. Having a routine doesn’t mean I’m boring or predictable; it just means I’ve guaranteed that every Saturday will be a happy one.
First—and this is the part that most everyone enjoys—I allow myself to sleep in. No alarm clocks, no appointments, no plans. I wake up slowly, allowing myself to languish in that twilight sleep—not quite awake, but not fully asleep either.
Here’s the part that differs from everyone else’s Saturday: once I feel like I’ve indulged enough in my laziness, I reach over to my nightstand and grab whatever erotic material I’ve placed there the night before. Then I open the top drawer and free my vibrator from its hiding place.
I love my vibrator. It never lets me down. Let me rephrase that—as long as I have good batteries, it never lets me down. After years of experimenting with toys of all types, I have found the perfect vibrator—the silver bullet. I’ve tried others, high tech, expensive, fancy, different colors—nothing works for me quite like this model. The vibrating “bullet” is egg-shaped, and it fits perfectly between the lips of my pussy, nestled against my clit. Just thinking about how it feels makes me twitch. So, no more experimenting for me. When you find the perfect lipstick shade, the perfect hair color, the perfect vibrator, you stick with it.
Back to my routine: with tools in hand, I snuggle between the sheets, propped up by pillows, with just enough light to be able to read by, yet keeping the ambiance of the room sexy and inviting.
I begin with a story I’ve read a dozen times before—nothing too exciting, something predictable, but just enough to get me going. As I reach the first sex scene, I slowly nudge the vibrator between my pussy lips, which are already tingling with anticipation. I don’t turn it on yet though—just the sensation of the cold, hard cylinder against my clit gets me excited. As the story unfolds, the details start having an effect on me—the strong hands on the girl’s ass, the bulge of the cock seen through the jeans. I can feel it all as if I were part of the story. I’m in harmony with the main character—my excitement builds along with hers. As she submits to her partner’s commands, I lazily stroke my breasts beneath the sheet, flicking each nipple to attention then gradually pinching and pulling them until I’m so hot, I have to kick the covers off and let the cool air travel over my naked body. The introduction of cool air against hot skin only increases my arousal, and finally, I turn on my vibrator to the lowest setting. The first burst of electricity shocks my clit, and I gasp with the suddenness of it.
Today, however, I will not be able to indulge myself at leisure. I have an early morning appointment that could not be avoided, so instead of languishing in pre-orgasmic bliss, I have to step up the pace. There will be no teasing, no holding back, no slow buildups.
Today I choose a story that I would normally save until much later in my routine, but I don’t have time to mess around. I turn my vibrator on almost to full blast and flip to the middle of the story, reading at a furious pace. I am all too familiar with the feeling of sweet, delicious humiliation as the character in the story gets her ass spanked, then probed. The scene plays out quickly as my eyes speed past the paragraphs. I swiftly read the words that describe her emotional conflict between humiliation and arousal. I squeeze my legs together to create more friction between the vibrator and my clit as my hand travels downward to stroke my clean-shaven pussy. A few flexes of my thigh muscles along with some pressure from my fingertips, and I start to climax as our girl is getting fucked and spanked at the same time. I hold the vibrator in place with the palm of my hand, letting the tip of my middle finger squeeze its way in between my lips and dart just inside the opening until my orgasm has subsided.
I look at the clock. I have a few more minutes so I decide to go again, but I’ll have to make it quick. This time I choose a story about two butches and a femme. There is something so hot about threesomes that usually I can’t get through an entire story before losing it, and that’s exactly what I need right now.
My eyes dart over the words while my vibrator does its job on my pussy. I squeeze my legs together as I live vicariously through the story’s characters, imagining that I’m the girl: my mouth around some butch’s hard cock while the other butch fucks me from behind. I thrust my hips upward, desperately grinding my clit against the vibrator. I make myself continue reading the story although I don’t need the stimulation anymore; my clit is already starting to contract. I force myself to hold off for a few seconds until the femme in the story starts to come, and then I let go with a scream. I drop the book and press the vibrator harder into my pussy with one hand, while plunging two fingers inside with the other. I clamp down, feeling the contractions in my pussy over and over until finally the pulsing in my clit dies down.
Normally I would continue to lie in bed and stroke my pussy for several more moments, and maybe even go again, but today isn’t a day for routines.
DEFENSELESS
Nat Burns
I looked at her handsome face and wanted to smash it.
“How could you?” I asked in a harsh whisper. “You butch bastard.”
“Whoa!” She recoiled from my anger. “You said you didn’t want the job.”
“Well, I sure as hell didn’t want you to get it!”
There’s a lot of baggage between Willie and me. She’d dumped me a while back and taken off with my friend, Reese. Then, six months ago, she’d shown up at Mackie Brothers working in my department. We’d made some peace, as people do who have to work together, but this—getting the supervisory position that would make her my boss—well, it was treason.
“Why?” she asked, eyes keenly interested in my anger.
“You’re just a snake, and you always will be.” I turned back to the line.
“Come on, Saffron, give me a break. I need the money. That truck I’m driving is a pig, you know that.”
“You don’t have to drive that truck, Will. I told you before you bought it that it was gonna break you.”
She shrugged and grinned that adorable butch grin that she knew melted me. It wasn’t going to work. This time.
“Just get out of my face. I am so pissed at you. I may have to look for another job.”
The lunch bell sounded and her smile drooped. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” she asked in a low, urgent voice. “Tell me you’re not gonna do that, Saff.”
I locked down the oven used to harden the epoxy we worked on then looked at her. I saw a weird pain in her face, something I’d never seen there before. “Will?”
“Saffron, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“About things.”
“So, talk.” I started toward the lunchroom.
“Let’s go out to the truck,” she suggested.
“I don’t know…”
“Please?” She hitched her heavy work pants and shuffled her booted feet.
I sighed, never able to resist her when she was being shy. I motioned for her to lead the way.
Outside the sky was overcast and I knew it’d be raining soon. I breathed deeply of the grayness as we traversed the big back parking lot. Fresh air is fresh air and after a morning spent in the hot confines of the factory, it felt mighty damned good. Willie strode next to me with
her usual swagger and I could tell she was enjoying being outside too.
“Damn, Will,” I muttered as we paused next to her black Dodge, a ton and a half, with bright chrome and oversized Tiger-paw tires. I ran my hand over the gleaming front grille and shook my head. I spied her childlike grin of pride. Will and her toys.
“I’d sell it in a heartbeat, if you wanted me to,” she said quietly.
Had I heard her right?
“Okay, what’s going on?” I folded my arms across my chest and leaned against the truck. “Talk to me.”
“Inside.” Her nod indicated the high truck cab.
We sat in silence for a moment and then I heard her sigh my name. I sought her eyes and saw such pained love there that it made my heart ache. Her lips found mine, her tongue teasing, flicking, penetrating deeply. The caresses tickled, aroused; I felt dizzy yet the kisses continued. Heat grew inside me and when she pulled me across the seat, closer, to gaze at me with darkening eyes, I swooned into an intense ocean of want, of need.
I moaned as her lips traveled lower and teased the swell of my breasts. My voice seemed to excite her and she jerked up the front of my shirt so she could tug at my bra with her teeth. She looked up at me, mouth wrapped around white lace, and the desire in her gaze brought me to the brink of orgasm. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been wanting her until that moment. She twisted my bra and my breasts escaped to freedom only to be recaptured by Willie’s ravenous mouth. When she latched on to one nipple, I cried out from the delicious torment. Willie broke the contact and pulled me into a new engulfing kiss that I felt all the way to my toes.