Girl Fever

by Sacchi Green

  We shook hands, giggling, kind of nervous. Then she kissed me on both cheeks, and I told Mom we were going upstairs to my bedroom. Mom was sooo relieved that Katie wasn’t actually some dirty old man.

  Fact was, Katie was eighteen years old, like me, and looked a lot like me—blonde hair, blue eyes, girly body and bubbly personality. We could’ve been twins.

  “Here’s my latest fab find!” the girl gushed, pulling a dress out of the bangled leather bag she’d brought along.

  I plucked the silky red slip-dress out of her hands and pasted it to my body, rubbing the super-slick fabric. “Awesome!” I yelped.

  “Go ahead and try it on. We’re about the same size.”

  I instantly stripped off my sparkly purple tee and white skinny jeans, dropped the slinky dress over my head and let it slide down my bare body. Katie zipped me up at the back, as we stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror in my bedroom.

  “You look way sexy!” she breathed in my ear.

  I grinned, tingling all over. The dress fit me like a glove, and really showed off my smooth, tanned arms and legs, my feminine curves. Katie reached around to adjust the plunging neckline, and her fingers brushed over my nipples.

  I jumped, zapped with sensation. All the excitement of meeting a fellow fashungirl, trying on her stuff, had really gotten to me. My nipples were super-hard, brimming with feeling, poking the dress out on my quivering body so that Katie couldn’t help but notice.

  “Nice,” she murmured, pulling down on the material so that my boobs just about popped out. Then she smoothed it down, her hands running up to cup under my breasts.

  I full-body shivered, gasping for breath. Katie clasped my boobs and squeezed them, breathing soft and hot against the nape of my neck, staring into my gaping eyes in the mirror. And then her fingers fluttered out and pinched my throbbing buds, rolling them in the silken fabric.

  “Oooh!” I moaned.

  I couldn’t control myself. It felt so warm and wonderful, my nipples buzzing between Katie’s fingers, her body burning into mine, my cunny welling with wetness.

  “I think you’d look even hotter without the clothing,” Katie whispered, before kissing my neck. Her hands slid right into the dress, grasping my bare boobs skin-on-skin.

  I absolutely shimmered, every hair on my body standing on end. “I…I…d-don’t know, Katie,” I babbled, staring at the girl licking my neck and fondling my boobs, feeling it all with a wicked intensity. “I’ve n-never done anything like…”

  “You don’t have to do a thing,” she said. “This time.”

  She turned me around and slipped the spaghetti straps off my shoulders, so that the sexy garment slid down me to the floor. Then she looked at my totally naked bod, running her eyes all over me.

  I just about burst out crying, I was so full of emotion. When Katie cupped my boobs, bent her head down and sucked a vibrating nipple into her mouth, I did cry out—with joy.

  Katie tugged on and tongued one jutting bud, then the other, bobbing her blonde head back and forth. I clutched her smooth, rounded shoulders while her warm, wet tongue and mouth made me dizzy with delight. She knew just how to tease my tits for maximum pleasure, sucking the tips with her glossy lips until I almost floated right off my feet with feeling. My cunny totally flooded.

  Katie headed lower, going down on me. She dragged her shiny pink tongue down my heaving tummy and into the blonde fur of my pussy. I just about exploded with passion, when she flicked my clit and licked my slit.

  “Ohmigod! Yes, Katie!” I wailed. I was sooo into what the girl was doing to me—what no girl, or boy, had ever done before.

  She was down on her knees, gripping my trembling thighs, licking my supersensitive cunny. She stroked long and hard with her wide, outstretched tongue, covering every inch of my dripping, dazzled slit.

  Then she spread my puffed-up lips with her fingers and plunged her tongue right inside my cun. I grabbed on to her head, shocked to the core. Her tongue drove deep into me, stuffing me full of wild sensation. She pulled her head back and then pushed forward, pumping my pussy with her long, stiffened tongue.

  “Oooh, Katie!” I shrieked, bursting with bliss. I clawed her blonde hair, shaking, absolutely gushing sweet release right into her mouth.

  She helped me lie down on my bed afterward, and we cuddled and kissed, all tender and glowing. I’m supposed to do to her what she did to me, next week, when she comes over again to dress up—and then dress down.

  SIGNATURE

  Jean Roberta

  Aauuggh!” Carli had never made a sound like this before.

  My own sounds were more staccato: “Uh! Uh! Uh!” I reminded myself of an old-fashioned train chugging uphill.

  “‘We—almost—there?” she huffed.

  “Yep.” I couldn’t say more.

  Oh, the joys of a man-free lesbian life: we get to move our own furniture from room to room. The carved oak chest Carli inherited from her late grandmother definitely belonged in our bedroom, even if getting it there killed us both.

  “O-kay,” she said. “I have to stop for a while. We can maneuver it into place later.”

  “Sure.”

  I’m old enough to be her mother, but I seem to have more endurance. She, on the other hand, has impressive bursts of energy.

  Like the chest, Carli has a smooth finish that invites the viewer to touch it. Now she was covered in a damp sheen of summer sweat, her sandy-blonde braid sticking to her neck and one freckled shoulder. She threw herself on our high queen-size bed and closed her eyes.

  Her brave little breasts looked almost flat beneath her halter top. Her tight thighs spread themselves apart, covered only in denim shorts over ridiculous bikini panties with a design of pink and blue teddy bears.

  I’m a dirty old woman, I’ll admit it. I won’t admit to being a predator.

  Carli “came out” at fourteen, when her bff showed her some new tricks. At twenty-two, she had a repertoire of tastes and skills. I outed myself at thirty, as a divorcée with two kids and a job I was terrified of losing. I was still making up for lost time.

  I crawled up and straddled her. I couldn’t resist an exhaled, “Ha!” She giggled without opening her eyes. So that’s how she wanted to play.

  I carefully reached under her neck to untie her top. That was easy. I pulled the fabric down until her two pale breasts were naked under me, their large pink nipples soft and unaware. That changed as soon as I breathed on them.

  I nuzzled her neck, and my hot mess of dark brown hair fell onto her skin. I licked the salt from under her chin and over a pulsing vein. No wonder animals show their necks to signal vulnerability and surrender.

  I had other goals, however. I stroked her firm upper arm before lifting it out of the way. Then I plunged my nose into the soft skin and pungent hair of her armpit. Ahh.

  She opened her eyes. “What are you doing?”

  She sounded like Red Riding Hood, puzzled by the appetites of a bitch wolf. “Smelling you,” I explained, moving my head so she could hear me. “No one else smells like you.”

  She squirmed, not with delight. “I don’t have any deodorant on. Nothing.”

  “I hope not,” I warned her. “I asked you not to.”

  “But I’m really sweaty. I can smell myself.”

  I showed her a toothy grin. “Good.” I stretched out my tongue to savor her taste. “An excellent bouquet, earthy but delicate. Completely organic, with no chemical aftertaste. It’s your signature scent.”

  “Oh, Donna.” She was clearly embarrassed and learning to enjoy it. She seemed to know this was my way of claiming her. Not that I hadn’t already, but intimacy is a process that requires repetition.

  There is old furniture, and then there is the well-loved chest that Carli inherited, complete with family memories. There are a lot of cute young women, but only one Carli.

  I hoped she could sense the weight of my womanly breasts hanging over her, even with her eyes closed. I hoped she felt pr
otected by the pressure of my thighs and the shelter of my hips.

  I moved my nose around in the hollow where her springy hair grew like wild grass in a valley. She jerked from the tickling.

  I cupped both her breasts, sliding my hands over the now-red nipples, as insistent as the beaks of baby birds. There was only one thing to do next: suck them hard.

  “Uh.” I loved the soft grunt that seemed to flow directly from her lungs as she steadily lost control.

  I pulled my mouth away to tell her something I thought she needed to hear. “Mm, honey. Your smell, your taste. It’s what I want.”

  I straightened up to peel her shorts down over her lean hips, exposing her adorable oak-blonde bush, pulling her silly panties down to her knees, her ankles and completely off.

  There she was: a nymph of a girl who could have posed for a painter in the Renaissance, and who could have been identified by the shape of her rib cage, the constellation of her freckles, the slight bikini-line crease in her belly. Her legs were spread so far apart that she looked ready to give herself some attention, if I didn’t do it soon.

  I wedged my hands under her thighs to hold her in place and ran my snuffling nose from the top of her bush to that part of her slit where the scent was strongest.

  “Oh!” she sighed, letting me know I was getting somewhere.

  “Mm,” I hummed into her wet opening. I took a lungful of her aroma, then ran a pointed tongue inward, searching out her clit like a bloodhound on the trail of a fugitive.

  I noted the differences in taste and temperature between her outer lips and her hot inner channel.

  Her swollen clit was ready for me. I licked, prodded and wiggled it, tasting her. Her hips and thighs moved, gradually finding their rhythm. I wouldn’t let her dislodge me.

  “Donna!”

  I knew what that meant. I let go of one thigh so I could slide two fingers into her, downward and inward below the trembling flower of her clit. I explored her slick inner walls while pulling her flesh into my mouth. I ran my tongue back and forth across a bursting nub.

  “Ohhhh!” She threw her arms around my back as she raised herself halfway off the bed. Her cunt clutched my fingers, inviting me to stay. I could feel her heartbeat.

  “You, baby,” I told her. She knew what I meant. I had exes and so did she, but at that moment, no one else counted.

  It’s a paradox: we’re all the same, and we’re all different. “Lesbian” means something different in each relationship. Whatever might happen between us, I hoped I would never forget what it was like to take in the essence of Carli. And offer her mine.

  THE AIRPLANE STORY

  Victoria Janssen

  Drusha twisted restlessly in her seat before burrowing beneath the airplane blanket and squeezing Kelli’s hand.

  “There yet?” Kelli mumbled. She was wearing orange earplugs to defend against engine noise and had tied back her scruffy curls with a faded purple bandanna. Her eyes blinked wider and focused on the Bollywood film flashing across tiny screens throughout the darkened cabin. She glared blearily. She looked cute when she was irritable.

  Drusha unscrewed an earplug. “When we get there,” she said, “we’ll be sleeping in a dormitory.”

  Kelli leaned into Drusha and said, “Duh.”

  “Three weeks!” Drusha said. “No…” She made the descriptive American Sign Language gesture that meant fucking.

  “We’re not going on vacation.”

  “But…” Then, “Don’t tell me to grow up.”

  “You said it for me,” Kelli said, grinning. The corners of her eyes creased, as did the lines bracketing her mouth. She murmured, “Look, I’m not totally happy about what we won’t be doing in Malaysia, but maybe we can get a hotel room for the last night, or something.”

  Drusha grabbed Kelli’s hand again and squeezed. She murmured back, “Or you could follow me into the bathroom back there.”

  Kelli grinned again. “Naughty girl.”

  “I’m serious.” She leaned closer and spoke more softly. “I’ll leave the door unlocked, and stand on the toilet lid. Wait a few minutes and follow me in.”

  Drusha couldn’t tell what Kelli was thinking. Did she think this was a stupid idea? Childish? Disrespectful to the dispossessed people they were traveling to help?

  Finally Kelli looked at her. “You’re too tall,” she said. “I’ll go first.”

  Drusha stared at her watch as the seconds ticked away. Despite it being two o’clock in the morning, more than one person was up and wandering the aisles of the jumbo jet: a bleary man with a baby; a fidgety boy; a young woman wearing headphones. Drusha wondered if any of them had ever had sex in an airplane bathroom. She imagined them watching; well, not the baby. Or the boy. That was too weird. Two minutes, thirty seconds.

  Four minutes. Their flight wasn’t even close to over, and she already felt as if she’d rolled down a hill covered with rocks. A good orgasm would squeeze out some of those kinks, she thought. And maybe give her a new one, all about jumbo jets.

  She smiled apologetically at the man with the baby as she squeezed past him. She just barely made it to the door of the bathroom ahead of a skinny teenager, who looked disgusted.

  Kelli crouched on the toilet lid, wearing a dubious expression. Drusha didn’t give her the chance to change her mind. She leaned forward and kissed her, tugging at her sweater with both hands.

  Kelli dragged her mouth free. “There’s no damned room in here!”

  Drusha’s butt was crammed against the door. She was glad she’d locked it; she’d look pretty stupid if they tumbled out into the aisle. “Keep quiet!”

  “So now you’re the cautious one?” Kelli yanked up Drusha’s T-shirt. Her words puffed against Drusha’s ear and made her shiver.

  Drusha grabbed the waistband of Kelli’s sweats and yanked her forward. The door held, and she got hot, awkward weight pinning her. She fumbled to open Kelli’s bra.

  “Forget that,” Kelli said. “Get your hand down my pants.”

  Drusha shoved the bra up with the sweater and popped the button on her own jeans. She yanked down her zipper then slid both hands into Kelli’s sweatpants. Kelli wasn’t wearing any underwear.

  “You bitch!” Drusha gasped. “You wanted to fuck the whole time!”

  “Handy now, huh?” Kelli whispered, and licked her ear. “Get your fingers in there, I want to come.”

  “Like I’m going to tell you no.” Drusha hooked her fingers into Kelli’s pussy. It felt steaming hot, thick and slippery and just the way she liked it. She wondered if Kelli had gotten herself started while she was in the bathroom alone.

  Kelli knelt on the toilet seat, one hand down the back of Drusha’s jeans and the other underneath her T-shirt, scraping lines with her short nails.

  Drusha had three fingers in now and was using her thumb to massage Kelli’s clit with its own hood. She rubbed faster, panting against Kelli’s chest. “I wish I had a dildo!”

  “Try getting one of those through customs,” Kelli said, between gasps. She was close, Drusha could tell. If it hadn’t been for the sink, she would have sunk to her knees and licked Kelli until she came. She made do with pressing the heel of her other hand into Kelli’s mound. Kelli writhed until she came with soundless puffs of air. Drusha was pretty sure it had all taken about three minutes.

  “Fuck,” Drusha said, holding her. “My underpants are all wet.”

  “Should’ve gone without,” Kelli said. “How the hell am I going to get you off?”

  “If you need me to tell you that…”

  “Brat.” Kelli squeezed her ass, hard, then tugged on her belly ring. “Push your pants down.”

  Drusha peeled her jeans off. Her underpants went with them. Suddenly she could smell herself more than she could smell Kelli.

  Kelli looked down at her pubes like they were art. “Put your fingers in your pussy,” she said. “Shove them in with my come all over them.”

  Liquid gushed out of Drusha’s cunt, alr
eady sopping as a wet sponge. She braced herself against the door. She formed her three longest fingers into an arrow and pushed inside herself.

  Kelli shoved her T-shirt up and squeezed her tits, rubbing the heels of her hands against Drusha’s nipple bars. “Fuck yourself,” she growled. “I want to hear it.”

  Drusha let her head fall against Kelli and jerked her arm, thrusting as fast as she could. She couldn’t help but bump Kelli with each stroke. Kelli didn’t seem to care. She kept working Drusha’s nipples; Drusha had come from that alone, before.

  She hunched her shoulder, trying to reach farther inside. Just then, Kelli began flicking her clit. Drusha sucked air against an inner twisting that all at once sprung free, whirling her into loose-limbed, shaking aftermath.

  Drusha hadn’t noticed before, but she could feel the plane’s vibration in the door at her back, an extra stimulation that now helped soothe her down from her frantic peak.

  Kelli said, close to her ear, “I came again after you did. You are so fucking hot. I really thought you were going to scream and the flight attendant would catch us and I’d end up losing my tenure.”

  “If you did, I’d keep you as my love slave,” Drusha said. “Rich kid, remember? Trust fund?”

  “Does a trust fund cover love slaves?” Kelli kissed her. “We’d better get out of here. You go first.”

  “Like nobody’s going to be able to smell me.”

  “I have baby wipes.”

  “The fuck?”

  “Good for trips like this. I stuck them in my sock. Hold on—there.” She kissed Drusha again. “Now go, before I ravish you again. That’ll have to wait until the hotel.”

  “I’ll make plans for that hotel. And for the plane ride home.”

  BACKSTAGE NERVES

  Heather Day