Best of Best Lesbian Erotica 2

by Tristan Taormino

  “Yeah, honey, fuck me, fuck me,” I pant and I can almost see her smile.

  I wrap my hands around her head and push her deeper into me. I’m moving her head and every time I look down those eyes are staring at me. My legs are shaking and my cunt starts to clench and I feel my insides begin to boil and I look down and she winks at me. I can’t believe it, I lose my shit. I start to come, shaking and crying I fall over on her.

  “Please stop, stop, stop,” I cry, but she won’t. That vibrator isn’t moving, but it’s still deep inside me. I reach down to grab her hair but then, the bitch, she starts to come and I get off again, just feeling her shaking and moaning under me. It’s too much.

  She’s done, and finally she pulls out the vibrator. I climb off of her, and she turns off the toy and places it down on the little stage. I’m spent, I feel like I’ve been fucked for the first time in a long time, and if the floor wasn’t covered with spent jizz maybe I could crawl up and go to sleep there.

  She’s still looking at me, that smile that’s more like a smirk on her face, and she’s buttoning up her blouse and pulling down her skirt. She stands up, looking like nothing ever happened, and she walks over and you know what she does? She kisses me. Plants a big wet one right on my mouth while she slides a twenty on the stage; then she turns and walks out.

  I can’t believe her. The nerve of that slut, I know her type, the kind that always needs the last word. I shake my head, some people are just crazy, you know what I mean? I get back on stage and wait for my next show.

  Thermal Stress

  María Helena Dolan

  I’m an ass woman. I can’t help it; that’s just the way I’m wired. Oh, of course I love the way women look and feel and taste and smell and sound. But I really love the way women sway. Uh-hmm.

  And a woman who knows how to work it…whew! A thoroughly religious feeling just comes all over me. When I see a positively heart-stopping ass, it makes me want to get right down on my knees and…say the rosary! Oh yeah!

  Especially when they make it sway, honey. Swaying on the street, swaying in the breeze, swaying on the dance floor, swaying like it has a mind of its own, if you please. Any one of those moves can knock me down and roll me over; but you know I’ll be right back up for more.

  And, truth be told, I should say that I especially love the way she sways, my sweet, sweet thing. Uh-hmm.

  I must declare, she has got to be the finest work of womankind on the Goddess’s green Earth, built with the roundest, sweetest, firmest, ripest, shakinest, succulentist mounds imaginable. I swear, grown women start to weep, and even faint dead away, when they see that garden of delights crossing their paths. Woo.

  Now, this kind of thing is a gift you’ve got to be born with. You can’t fake it, you can’t acquire it, you can’t learn it. There can’t be any doubt that my woman started out from toddlerhood with handfuls of the stuff. Hell, when she was just a teen queen, trying to figure out which way to go—you know, whether it’d be boys or girls or both—she already knew that a pair of tight jeans exhibited her best and most stirring calling card.

  Oh yeah. And being a southern gal, she liked to strut—even before she knew how to work it. Some innate pool of female knowledge bubbled up to the surface long enough to let her know that punctuating her arrivals and departures with that undiagrammable but definitely declarative sentence was precisely the way to proceed.

  Some things just come instinctively to the naturally gifted. It ain’t as if anyone put her up to it. In fact, all kinds of folks tried to get her to change her ways.

  Shoot, for years, the neighbors could hear her mama hollering out the window, “Come on in here, girl, before you shake yourself all to pieces!”

  But thank God that didn’t succeed. ’Cuz now I am the happy beneficiary of all that bounty. It’s a glory so sweet that sometimes it just about makes my teeth ache.… Just watching her walk is a thrilling, fulfilling thing. But actually making love to her…I can hardly stand it! Sometimes, it just comes upon me, like a veritable force of nature.

  Take the other night, for instance. We were lying in bed, just reading. It was late, and I was dog-boned weary from work and meetings and the daily runnings around. The most I could muster was a chaste little peck, which I’d already administered on her Oil-of-Olayed forehead.

  She has a lamp on her side of the bed, and I have one on mine; she held a book, and so did I. Mine was a murder mystery with a dyke dick, and hers was poetry.

  So we were content, just laying there together, heads on respective pillows, arms barely touching, bodies relaxed and ready for sleep. Calm, comfortable, homey.

  But then, she rolls over to her side of the bed, propping her head with one arm as she continues reading, and her butt is all of a sudden touching my hip. A tornado siren wouldn’t have shocked my nerves as much as just registering her firm but ohso- soft flesh against my suddenly awakened body.

  I can’t help myself; it’s just the way I’m wired.

  So I naturally have to roll over too, putting my arms around her and pressing my starting-to-get-bothered-about-it pussy against her butt. She smiles, turning her head toward me for a moment. And then, she keeps on reading!

  Well, I’m afraid that my now-discarded novelus interruptus won’t hold my attention any longer. Not with all this soft warmth blending with my own. “Turn over, baby,” I croon. She rotates her head over her shoulder and gives me a pointed “have you lost your mind?” look.

  By now, I’m working one hand around to her dark triangle in front. Pressing down, the way she likes, I give her that low, lazy voice: “Ooh baby, you know I just want one little lick. Just one lick, and I can die happy.”

  “Yeah,” she rejoinders. “As if one was ever enough for you.”

  “Ah now baby, it ain’t as if you don’t receive some benefit, too.”

  “I’m reading,” she says, not quite dismissively.

  “Not any more,” I point out. “In fact, I think your butt is having some thoughts of her own.”

  It’s undeniably true; just that small circular pressure at the origin of her clit has got her hips moving in circles, and little explosions set off quivers in various other parts.

  “Mmm, baby, I can feel your heat. I want to give you some lovin’.”

  She doesn’t reply; but her hips grind a little faster and a little harder, as I kiss her neck from her ear down to her shoulder.

  With one hand working her mound, the other comes around to pleasure the nearest breast; once that preliminary negotiation is established, I part her thighs with my leg. And that lets me feel her slick wetness already beginning to collect there, like some kind of thermal spring, as the temperature rises dramatically.

  “Ooh, honey, you better lay on your belly. There’s something I’ve just got to give you.”

  In an evil voice, she asks, “Jewelry?”

  “Uh, huh. Pearls of great price.” And then I stop what my hands and leg are doing—which she hates.

  “Oh, all right,” she grumbles and lays belly down. Which puts her butt right where I can reach it.

  At first, I simply have to lean back and admire this natural wonder. I marvel that I can’t even span all the way across it with both hands stretched out, like a piano player searching for the last, best chord. But even that attempt sends shudders through her and me.

  Kneeling now, I run my hands up and down her mounds, sometimes kneading and sometimes just drawing my fingertips lightly across her puckering skin. Keeping it going, I reposition myself over her and then drag my breasts across her back, just barely touching her skin with them. Slowly, ever so achingly slowly, I trail my now-hardened nipples down her ass to the tops of her thighs. Ah, her hips are really grinding now.

  Inspired, I take my right tit in my hand and stuff it up into her crack, so she can feel my flesh all up and down her. Her heat rises higher, and her hips move more furiously, sucking my tit into her.

  She protests heartily when I pull out of her, but she quiets as
I begin to once more rub my breasts up her back. Reaching her hairline, I stop and hover over her. Then, starting at her neck, this time with my lips, I kiss downward, slow, with deliberate torpor; velvet mating with satin to form a wondrous combination. This delicious mating takes so long because I simply have to cover every inch along her perspiring spine.

  As I finally claim the territory of her left cheek with sovereign kisses, I cheat with an unexpected infiltration and cross over to her coccyx with my indefatigably exploratory mouth. That bony tail remnant twitches mightily as I part her mounds with my hands and kiss inside the crack.

  Her smell is so sweet and so like her that I can’t imagine ever wanting to stop. With my reverential tongue tip, I begin my search of her quivering ring, that delicate, puckered peach pit. I work my assertive tip of tongue flesh against those folds, dispatching trills of sensation that expand into undulating surges of excitement as they spiral through her. She moans out her pleasure into the mattress as I work her more and more feverishly, her asshole clutching and shaking.

  But I can’t resist the pull of her pussy any longer. My mouth races down to her near-gaping hole, and I lick the outer walls in a circular motion.

  Fixing to boil, she blurts out, “Give it to me, honey. Put it in me. I need it now. Tongue-fuck me!” she calls out in an imperious plea.

  And I do, thrusting my face against her, my nose seeping into her ass, my tongue charging in and out with a great heat, a ferocity usually seen in people desperately trying to save treasured objects from furiously burning buildings.

  She screams, and I keep at it. I can’t breathe, but it doesn’t matter. I just keep moving my head against her, my hands on her hips, pulling her butt up toward my face with fast, hard strokes. I just keep fucking her with my tongue, as her fingers fly to her now-frantic clit.

  When she’s just about to come, I somehow pry my head up and out of her. She screams in terrible frustration, but she knows what’s coming next. And so, still breathing in the savor of her wetness laying atop my upper lip, I slip the first finger of each hand into her unbelievably hot and seeping pussy, thus simultaneously following both her upward thrust and her downward path. I slide in and out with shuddering ease, letting her really feel the penetration as I move against her wet walls, which begin to lengthen and deepen and open wider. Getting it from two angles at the same time drives her harder and hotter still.

  As she thrashes, I withdraw one hand and allow the other hand’s forefinger to remain in order to meet up inside the palace walls with the rest of her sister digits. I then ease the withdrawn hand’s slickly coated finger into her waiting asshole. Her proprietary folds surround me, hold onto me, demand me. I fuck her ass with gentle force, steady and targeted and continual between her yielding tightness. And I haven’t neglected the right hand, which keeps fucking her other, slippery hole, just up to the end of the fingers, which I wiggle against her inner wall at the end of each thrust.

  She begins to come as I push first with one hand, then the other, alternating strokes so she and I can both really feel the fiery, thin wall between them. Screaming and clenching, she tightens both of her realms against both of my hands.

  “Oh yeah, baby. Give it up. Give it to me,” I chant over and over again with mantralike intensity, fucking her for all I’m worth.

  And wonder of wonders, she does! She flat out gives it up, wailing and rocking with the force of her orgasms, clenching me tighter and tighter as her limbs thrash and then collapse.

  She has me right where she wants me. And I couldn’t be happier, with my fingers still inside her, as I bend down to kiss her ass one more time, feeling the radiating heat flush my awestruck face.

  “Mmmmphh,” she half sighs as I gently withdraw from her still-holding-tight districts. “You know what you do to me is a sin and a crime,” she chides in a voice that reverberates low and nastylike, accompanied by that slow and slight smile.

  Holding my expatriate fingers against my nose and inhaling deeply, I reply, “Well, it certainly is in most of these contiguous southern states. But not, apparently, in your sovereign territories.”

  Used to me and my ways, she smiles again, touches my face, and reaches up for a last little kiss. Then, she curls against me, her ass snuggling up to my pulsating pussy. Ah, there she is again, her ass abutting me as it had over an hour ago.

  After a moment of luscious silence, I ask, “Isn’t this how we got started in the first place?”

  “No. Actually honey, I think it was when you said something about giving me jewelry.”

  At that, we have to laugh.

  These southern gals—they sure know how to work it.

  sex hall

  MR Daniel

  The hallway is narrow. I had expected it to be less bare—there are no pictures on the walls, which have all been painted dark reds, slick mahoganies, and purples. I laugh to myself. The colored girls must have had fun checking out swollen pussies when they were painting this. The lights are sunk deep into the ceiling and turned down low so it’s lit like a club. A house diva is wailing through the PA system, backed up by an insistent fuck-me-baby, fuck-me-baby tempo. I feel as though I’m in a peep show.

  Brown, bronze, and various sun-kissed women move past me, some with their eyes straight forward, nervous, others whose eyes seem to burn a path before them. I can feel their heat as they pass. There is a steady pulsing below my skin as I move forward, the current stopping and starting and me feeling the blood push-flow push-flow through my neck and fingers, my heart growing, forcing blood into my breasts. I pass the first doorway and hesitate. The door is open but I am suddenly afraid to be caught looking.

  Someone behind me stops to look over my shoulder, and her fingers inquire at my leg. I can feel her questions all the way up my thigh into my stomach. I almost jump into the room, and there is laughter behind me. I catch my breath, surprised at my confusion. This morning I was so sure of what I wanted, what I felt, but now…Excitement? Pleasure? Fear?

  Didn’t I want to be fucked from behind, anonymous?

  A voice in my ear is saying, “Look forward, baby, or I’ll leave.”

  And, “I know you’re wet.”

  And, “When I remember how you look I’m going to think about parting your bush, how you almost reached behind to guide my hands. But I told you not to move. Don’t move.”

  Hiking up skirt, pulling down panties, the snap of a glove, and a hand between my legs. Fucked in a doorway. Fingers up my cunt, feeling the space in my flesh, pushing deeper and rubbing ’til there’s this cross between a sharpness and pleasure, my muscles filled with blood, taut, filling and pressing until I think I’m going to pee on the floor.

  My mouth is filled with stars and they’re burning their way through my vagina. They hurl through my chest and I can’t breathe; sweat collects in the band of my skirt. They light up nerves, sending shocks to my clit and behind my eyelids. I hear myself salivate as she works her hand in further, I pant, my cunt pants for her and the feeling of stars.

  I am high, nipples sharp from the sound of her inside me. I am straining against damp fabric, pores fucked alert, open, wanting to feel air on sweat-and-oil-steeped skin, as I brace myself in the doorway.

  Bodies passing by us go quiet as another finger goes in my puckering ass, tilted to receive, and lips circle my neck, her tongue leaving a trail that ends with a mouth clamped on the back of my throat, kissing, sucking hard, until a half-moon appears. I wanna come bad, but I could stay here forever.

  Can you fuck too much? Can you feel too good? Can you be so ripe that you keep bursting and swelling, bursting and swelling until a mouth bites you open again? Her teeth burn into my ass, she whips the hand out of my cunt and I feel the air leave my chest, my breasts suddenly get heavy and full. Her hand spanks my ass, my skin wet and hot, and enters me again like horses. I swear I’m gonna drop to my knees as the finger in my ass moves back and forth, teasing the rim of my anus. I feel myself coming, raging against the horses, grasping them
expelling-thrusting them out as they lunge, push further inside. She holds onto me. “That hand isn’t going anywhere,” she says.

  I feel come like hushed spurts, warm like blood, flowing out of me. I’m on my knees, my unconscious fingers take her horse hand, arching as I pull her out of me and rub her against my lips and clit. I feel like a dog, mouth open and bent over, writhing against her hand, I’m not thinking anymore, just doing what feels good. She doesn’t pull away. I come again, air passes through my throat and I hear a sound like the last breath as you break the surface of water. Doubled over, breathing hard, I pull away from the finger in my ass and push her other hand from between my legs. I lick my juice from her glove, and pull the latex off. My tongue dives for the skin in between her fingers. This is how I will remember her, by her hands. She helps me up from behind, pulling up my panties stretched and tangled in my boots, her fingers spread wide feeling me up as she pulls my skirt down.

  She bites my neck and says, “It’s too bad you came so soon,” and rubs her pelvis against the crack of my behind. I can feel her packing. Well, I’m sorry, too.

  “Next time,” she says, her hands firm on my hips, teasing, pressing into, circling against me, slowly. “It’s underneath my black vinyl shorts, it peeks through a little ’cause they’re short-shorts like the ones the reggae dancehall queens wear. Zippers up the sides. I only wear them here.”

  “How do you know you’re the only one?” I ask. She can’t see me smile.

  “Well, if I’m not, we’ll find out soon enough,” she laughs, and bites the half-moon she left before. I listen to her walking away.

  Boots, I guess, with heavy soles.

  Sometimes She Lets Me

  Alison L. Smith

  Last night her back was sore, spasms from the past, a high school injury, and I said that I’d rub it and then we could just go to sleep, and when I finished she asked me to massage her ass and I said yes but I could not do without kissing it, licking that white moon. I ran my teeth along the arc of it, biting, and her ass started to move under me.