Best of Best Lesbian Erotica 2

by Tristan Taormino

  “Sounds like a lovely time,” Mari said appreciatively. If she’d had a clue about herself before she was in her ’30s, she would have picked off a few young women writers, instead of just falling in love with their work.

  “At first, I kept thinking of what the nuns had taught me, what my family would say, but somehow I was able to put it behind me. Why should I put any stock in anything they said when it made me so unhappy?”

  “You’re a wise woman,” Mari said. “I bought into it for many more years.”

  “Then be thankful that you eventually found out what you needed,” Brigid said, laying her hand on Mari’s arm again. This time she left it there.

  Mari wanted to kiss Brigid, but stopped herself. Brigid was someone to be wooed delicately. A sudden lunge would put her off. Mari rather liked sudden lunges, but she would have to adjust to Brigid’s tempo. The charge building between them was exhilarating.

  Brigid brushed a lock of hair off Mari’s forehead. “You look like you were going to say something,” she commented. “Did you have some kind of plan for what you would do?” “I’m by nature a careful girl,” Brigid replied. “Not that I’m cowardly,” she added. “But while I was gathering rosebuds, I knew I needed a future. One girl took me to her acting school, and I met the head, who was a dear, loving woman, and I began to learn how to live, onstage and off. I felt so good and free when I was acting….” She ran her hands through her hair, and slipped out of her shoes. “How glorious to speak the Bard or O’Neill, or find the good bits in even a bad play, and make people pay attention and think.”

  “I love artists,” Mari said with a sigh.

  “Lots of people do,” Brigid replied. “My teacher had a circle of influential friends, and got me seen for things, but I got the parts myself, on talent. It worked well for us both. She took care of me, and my success enhanced her reputation.”

  “Did you love her?” Mari asked hesitantly.

  “I was never with anyone I didn’t love,” Brigid said, not offended. “I couldn’t do that. I would find something loveable about them. I was only ever with someone I cared for.”

  “I’ll bet you’re a very good friend,” Mari observed.

  “I am,” Brigid agreed. “If anyone has been good to me, I don’t forget it. That much of the nuns’ teaching remained… though I’m not sure Sister Mary Joseph would have been able to see it without fainting dead away!”

  They giggled a bit too much, and Mari realized they ought to eat something, or risk passing out. She offered to make dinner.

  “I’m pining for a home-cooked meal,” Brigid said. “Max did the cooking, and I’m not the least bit talented that way.” “My repertoire isn’t vast, but I can whip up an omelet….”

  “My dear, you could be a professional chef!” Brigid declared a few minutes later. “May I?” she reached to Mari’s plate and speared a mushroom.

  “Let me…” Mari said, holding out a forkful. Brigid steadied Mari’s hand with her own, and licked the fork.

  “Inspired…” she said.

  “I’m inspired, all right,” Mari replied.

  “I was hoping you might be,” Brigid said, folding her napkin.

  Mari pulled out Brigid’s chair. As she rose, Mari gently brushed her neck with a kiss. Brigid’s fair skin colored prettily, her eyes sparkled.

  “I thought you might…you’re very…subtle,” Mari said, blushing again.

  “One has to be,” Brigid said, looking away. “One might want something very much, but you have to think of the risk….”

  Mari suddenly realized the effort it must have taken Brigid all those years to try to find love without losing everything else. Mari knew some of her friends would scorn anyone like that as a coward and a liar. Maybe I wouldn’t have done what she did, Mari thought. But she’s the one who had to live with her choices, and it does neither of us any good for me to turn away, and anyway I don’t want to.

  “You can do and say anything, and none of it will come back to hurt you,” she told Brigid.

  Brigid moved into Mari’s embrace, and nestled between her breasts. Mari liked being tall, and loved the feel of her arms encircling a woman, holding her, kissing the top of her head, feeling lips so close to her nipples. She kissed Brigid’s upturned face, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, then a gentle brush across her lips. She was rewarded with a ragged sigh.

  “Again, please,” Brigid whispered. Mari complied, as bits of the stories she’d written so long ago flashed into her head. She was the passionate, ignorant adolescent, and the character she’d made up for herself in the stories was having an adventure with cousin Maeve; no, she was a grownup of deeper, more informed lust kissing a beautiful woman, who happened to be an actress, who played the first woman she’d fallen in love with, who was kissing her in her apartment in New York City later in the same lifetime.

  She bent Brigid back in the kiss she’d been coveting all day. Brigid twined her arms around Mari’s neck and threw back her head after their lips parted, leaving Mari to suck and bite her neck.

  “Careful…I have a show on Tuesday,” she murmured.

  “Of course,” Mari replied between nibbles. “I’ll only bite the parts of you that are covered!”

  “You’re a thoughtful girl,” Brigid sighed. “I want to feel something….”

  “Trust me, you will,” Mari said, leading her to the bedroom.

  Mari’s hands caressed the silk of Brigid’s blouse, unzipped her crisp linen skirt; she was delighted to discover Brigid wore a garter belt and stockings. Brigid unclasped her bra, turning her body away. Mari could see her steeling herself, caught a glimpse of uncertainty, could almost hear Brigid think: Am I pretty enough? Am I too old?

  “My, what beautiful legs you have, said the Big Bad Wolf,” Mari purred as she shed the last of her own clothes. She rubbed her cheek on the silk stocking over Brigid’s inner thigh. She licked the exposed flesh between the top of the stockings and Brigid’s panties. She laid her body along Brigid’s, touching their nipples together. She felt the wetness of Brigid’s pussy. Brigid clung to her and rubbed her crotch hard against Mari’s thigh. “Do you have a cock? A big one to ride me with?” she asked hopefully.

  “How big?” Mari reached under the bed for her toy bag. She pulled out a large black one that barely fit into the harness.

  “Ooh! That’s lovely,” Brigid said. “Then, if you like, I can use it on you!” Mari laughed with delight.

  She pulled the harness on and the dildo bobbed jauntily at her crotch. She’d never been able to decide whether she was more turned on by seeing a woman wearing a cock, or being that woman. Brigid went down on it, and Mari swore she could feel Brigid’s lips on her actual flesh; she thrust forward as Brigid’s head moved faster and faster. Her nipples stood erect as Brigid’s hands stole upward to squeeze them.

  She pulled the cock from Brigid’s mouth and said: “I need to go in you.”

  “I like it from behind,” Brigid told her. Her pink ass rose in the air as she thrust it upward, and Mari bent down to kiss and bite her cheeks. She ran her tongue to where Brigid’s pussy began, smooth and hairless. It was quite wet, and Mari heard her mutter: Please, yes, I’m ready….

  She guided the head of the cock into Brigid’s pussy and held it for a moment, until she felt Brigid relax, then thrust it in slow and deep, guiding herself by the hard, almost relieved moans she heard, until she was deep inside.

  “Ah, yes…so good,” Brigid murmured. “So long…oh ride me….”

  Mari pushed harder, until she was slamming into Brigid, She draped herself over the other woman, squeezing her breasts, biting her neck.

  “More…more…harder!” Brigid sobbed. She suddenly breathed in through clenched teeth and fell silent. Mari could feel her orgasm, like the ocean, first drawing back, then crashing to shore. She felt her own heart beating fast, as hard as Brigid’s. She gently slipped out, and Brigid slumped to the bed, eyes closed, glistening.

  Mari took Brigid in her ar
ms, and kissed her, babbling words of love and comfort. She was surprised at how undone she was, how much it had meant.

  “Oh, lovey, that was brilliant,” Brigid said, nuzzling Mari’s neck. She licked the sweat from Mari’s breastbone. “I haven’t come like that in…too long.” Mari grasped the dripping dildo. She ran her finger along its length and brought it to her mouth, Brigid’s tongue twining with hers as she tasted the come.

  “What else do you have in your bag of tricks?” Brigid asked, reaching for the toy bag. She looked through the collection of dildos, vibrators, collars, butt plugs, and other items. She selected a strand of blue silicon beads, graduated in size. “Do you enjoy a little something up the bum?”

  “I’m a backdoor girl,” Mari admitted.

  “And here’s a wee pot of lube,” Brigid said. She coated the beads, and Mari grew hot watching her. Brigid knelt before her, as Mari spread her legs. With her little finger, Brigid gently began to probe Mari’s anus. Mari relaxed and let the finger slide in, and soon felt the smallest of the beads entering her. Brigid crooned as she guided them in slowly, gently. She lowered her face and Mari could feel Brigid blowing on her clit, which stood hard and erect.

  “What a dear pearl you have,” Brigid whispered, and Mari felt Brigid’s lips brushing it as the beads continued to go deeper into her.

  It was slow and melting and Mari stopped thinking, let herself be swept away by the nimble, knowing lips and fingers. Brigid teased her clit and made it stand at attention and Mari growled with delight. The wave of her climax was growing, swelling, and she willed it higher before it broke. She twined her fingers in Brigid’s hair and pushed herself forward to take the next bead until she was holding the entire strand, bearing a delightful fullness enhanced by the ever more intense tingling in her pussy. Brigid suddenly pulled the beads out and Mari came in a wet rush with a long, loud howl. Brigid looked up, her face damp. Mari’s body shook, and she felt tears on her own cheeks.

  “Oh, so you’re a screamer,” Brigid teased. She snuggled in next to Mari. “It’s always gratifying when someone appreciates your work.” Mari could tell she was proud of herself.

  “Can I have your autograph, Ms. Flanagan?” she murmured. Brigid shouted with laughter. A short time later, Mari reached for the phone. She called her office and left word that she wouldn’t be in the next day. Brigid looked at her hopefully. Mari rolled back into her arms.

  “Now we both have tomorrow off. I’d be delighted if you’d stay.”

  “As long as you’ll have me,” Brigid said. “And I won’t wear out my welcome. The show ends in a couple more weeks.”

  “You could stay after it closes…” Mari suggested.

  “Bless you, dear,” Brigid replied. “But California is my home. I would miss my house, and my garden, and my friends.” Brigid squeezed her hand. “I’d ask you to come to Los Angeles, but this is your home.”

  And, Mari thought, even if she had wanted to go to L.A., she didn’t want a relationship she had to hide.

  “We have a few glorious weeks,” Brigid told her. “And after, there’re phones, and scented paper for billets-doux, and planes that can fly you across the country in just a few hours.”

  “Then we’ll make the most of it,” Mari said. “And when you go home, I’ll hope we can stay in each other’s lives.”

  “I’ll keep you in my heart,” Brigid said. Mari felt herself tearing up. “You’re someone who belongs there. Somehow, you’ve learned to love freely, when you’re moved to, with everything that’s in you.”

  “I dreamed of kissing you when I was twelve years old,” she told Brigid. “And I didn’t actually kiss a woman until I was thirty. That’s too many years wasted worrying about the wrong things. Once I knew what I wanted, I stopped being afraid, and love became something worth everything else combined.”

  “You’re a true romantic,” Brigid smiled. “Like my friend

  Marlene Dietrich. I never met anyone who loved love as much as she did. She’d have liked you. She’d have wanted you.”

  Mari thought that was one of the finest compliments she’d ever received.

  “You look quite pleased,” Brigid said.

  “And why not? I’m lying next to a beautiful woman who makes love like an angel—I assume angels make love—and I have the day off tomorrow.”

  “So am I, and so do I!” Brigid said. “What a coincidence!” They rejoiced again over their mutual good fortune.

  Boys

  Ana Peril

  “You think that one’s cute?” said Mariano, pointing across the bar. I hung out with the boys every night then, watching boys, drinking and smoking and rolling and snorting and not looking for a girlfriend. Mariano got anyone he wanted, and not just on gay.com but in these sketch-ass places downtown with everyone so fucking hot and drunk, including, I hope, us. I looked where he was pointing.

  I looked at you, dancing close, your hand on the guy’s waist, your mouth next to his ear. Twenty-five or thirty? Maybe a grad student. Femme, but you were leading him. I felt rather than saw you press your cock against his thigh, and felt a sharp, unexpected pain between my breasts. The music was house, or something, something I was supposed to like, and just as I turned back to the boys, the cute bartender spilled a shot of dark booze across the counter. It dripped between us to the floor. “Sorry,” she said, smiling at me from under blonde curls. She looked straight, but I’m not sure. I wasn’t looking, but if I had been it would have been for a dyke. I looked back at you.

  “I heard he fucks women,” said Adam.

  “I don’t care. I’m not interested.”

  “Yeah, you are,” said Mariano. “Yeah you so fucking are.” But I knew that was an occupational risk of time with the boys, the continual projection of desire so intense that it seemed to spill over onto everyone. I watched him as he walked over to you.

  The three of us lost Adam to some med student and somehow left the bar. You said your place was close, that we should all walk there together and smoke a little. But I was tired, almost tired enough to skip the weed and leave the two of you to it. When we got to your doorstep, you turned under the streetlight, your dark eyes serious. “Good night, Mariano. It was lovely meeting you.” You kissed on the lips the way the boys do. He turned away from the house. With your strong arm, you opened the door for me, and let me, transfixed, walk in first.

  Inside the house, you didn’t bother to turn the lights on. You kissed me, your lips soft, sucking on my lower lip, biting. I was drunk enough to like it. You pushed me up against the wall and your knee came up between my legs. I put my hands up your shirt, stopped short for a confused moment, and in a moment of decision frantically unbound your breasts.

  “Get on your knees, bitch,” you said. With your hand in my hair, you jerked me around to face the wall. With the other you traced my naked spine. You licked your finger and circled my nipple with it, jerked my head back by the hair, bit my earlobe. Breathing raggedly on my neck, you moved your left hand down and stopped right above where I wanted it. You pinned me against the wall, with your whole body, your nipples hard. I arched against them. “I said get on your fucking knees.” I slid down the wall, my tits and right cheek aching from the pressure. You knelt behind me. “Tell me what I’m going to do to you.”

  “You’re going to fuck me,” I whispered.

  You slapped my left cheek hard. My chin banged against the wall.

  “Tell me louder.”

  I didn’t know exactly what you had to do with the university and was afraid to ask, to uncover complications. A lot of people won’t fuck undergrads, a lot more than I would have thought. A lot of people have kinks they won’t show to someone they’ll see again, especially someone who might know or be one of their students.

  “You’re going to fuck me.”

  “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you,” you answered, letting go of my hair. You ran your arm down my shoulder to my tied hands, and in one swift motion grabbed my wrists and jerked them up be
hind my back. I arched and cried out from the sharp pain that ran up my arms to my shoulders. You laughed, bit my neck, and twisted my nipple, a little too hard, between thumbnail and forefinger. “Beg me.”

  “Please,” I said softly.

  You slapped me again, harder. I braced myself to avoid banging my face against the wall. You pulled my wrists higher up my back. “Again.”

  “Please, please,” I said. “Put your dick in me.”

  “Shut up,” you said, and hit me hard across the ass, licked two fingers and plunged them in my cunt. I squeezed them with my whole body and you thrust in and out, your hand slippery, adding a third. I cried out in surprise. “Shut up!” And then a fourth finger. For a while you rammed into and slid out of me, your fingers finding that spot and pulling out, thrusting in and pulling out, your body slamming my tits and shoulders against the wall. You hurt me again and again, and each time I almost came, till I was exhausted, leaning back against you. You banged my breasts and face into the wall one last time, your hips so hard and fingers so deep into me that I thought I would break, I thought I would come, and then you pulled out again.

  “You want my dick, you little cunt? You want me to fuck you?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. I had played this game before, but only at parties, with all those sex-positive riot grrls and their rulebooks. I was used to knowing what was going to happen. It was a good sign that you kept asking me if I wanted you, it meant you weren’t an ax murderer. Not that I cared so much at that moment. No one had ever hit me so hard, or fucked me so mercilessly, and I knew you were going to do worse. My cunt and pulse pounded in fear and frenzy. Come on.

  “Face me.” You jerked my head around by the hair, and I whipped around, sat on my haunches in front of you. You knelt facing me, held my hands tight against my back, untied the rope, and in one motion pulled my wrists in front of me and tied them again.

  “Show me. Touch yourself.”

  I couldn’t get in deep enough, could just play around the opening, touch the engorged lips but not hard enough. You laughed at me with your red mouth, arching your back. Your breasts were tight against your sleeveless undershirt, and your chin jutting out in the dark between us, your dick bulging against your pants. You stood up. “Unzip my pants.” I brought my wet fingers to your fly, unzipped it, unbuttoned your pants, and tugged at the waist of your boxers. A little black tattoo, a long, swirling 3-shape, shone on your right hipbone. You pushed your purple dick into my mouth and then pulled out, slapped my cheeks with it twice. “Suck it, you little slut.” Your hand tightened in my hair. I licked the base, circled the head with my tongue. You pushed into my mouth and I swallowed as much as I could, sucking hard. I rubbed my thighs together, felt the pounding between my legs.