Best Lesbian Erotica 2013

by Kathleen Warnock

  “Now, you.”

  Michelle gave Savannah a wide-eyed once-over. How could she not? Her lithe, young body with its enticing curves was there to be noticed. Without apparent offense at being ogled, Savannah climbed the pool ladder and Michelle watched as Savannah’s shapely butt edged into the water.

  The pool was four feet deep with the sides a little higher. It was aqua blue with stiff white side supports that made it seem like a circus pool, the kind high divers drop into from the uppermost reaches of the big top. Savannah stretched out and glided over the water into the pool’s center.

  “Come on, now. Don’t be shy.” She batted the striped beach ball toward the ladder. “We’ll have ourselves a private pool party.”

  Moist from the heat, Michelle’s sticky body grabbed at her clothes as she rolled them over her arms and legs. As the little hairs on her skin detected a slight breeze, she felt cooler. She could especially feel how hot her pussy had become underneath her shorts. She liked the feeling of air against places that rarely remained unclothed and while she thought it would be pleasant to enjoy the sensation a little longer, she reached for the pool ladder.

  Her foot touched the water on the inside of the pool and registered a perfect temperature. It wasn’t like the public pool. If there was chlorine, she couldn’t smell it, and she dropped her body in.

  “I feel like nature girl!” exclaimed Michelle. She laughed as the water tickled past her privates, over her stomach and washed away the line of sweat beneath her breasts. “I can feel my skin.”

  “That’s what makes skinny-dipping so much fun!”

  Savannah draped her arms over the edge of the pool while Michelle swam in a circle.

  “I know a fun game,” said Savannah. “Take your do-rag and put it over your eyes. Then try to tag me. You say ‘Marco’ and then I say ‘Polo’ so you can hear where I’m at, but I’m going to try to fool you and sneak around. Okay?”

  “I know that game.” Michelle dipped her bandana in the water and squeezed it out before placing it over her eyes. Savannah swam off and after Michelle tagged her, they switched roles. On the second round, Savannah tagged Michelle’s foot while trying to escape. Savannah took off the blindfold and handed it back.

  “I have a boyfriend,” Savannah said. “Junior Peyroux.”

  “That’s nice,” Michelle said.

  “We do it.”

  Michelle hummed knowingly. Savannah wasn’t a kid anymore.

  “You know what he does?”

  “Well, I can guess,” Michelle said. “Are you sure you want to tell me?”

  “I’d rather show you.” Savannah bobbed in the water closer to Michelle. “I mean, on me.” Savannah held her own nipples between her thumb and forefinger and gave them a twist. “See what happens there? Takes two secs and they’re standing up like nobody’s business. But it hurts! Did you ever do that to LaTanya?” Savannah’s tits were perky and higher than the water line where Michelle had an eyeful.

  “No. Savannah, that’s kind of private.”

  “The reason I ask, is I don’t have much experience. Junior’s not my first, but unless I know what to do to fix things, I’m ready to drop him. Show me, Michelle. Show me what to do so I can tell him.”

  “You want me to show you?”

  “Touch my breasts the right way. Please! I promise I won’t tell a soul you showed me, not LaTanya or Junior or anybody. I have to show Junior what to do.” Savannah took one of Michelle’s hands and placed it on her breast.

  Michelle let her hand drop into the water. It was a simple response and a hard one to make. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t.” Savannah looked mighty good with her nipples twisting into hard points. Opportunity was knocking, begging for her to open the door…but this was LaTanya’s little sister. If she hoped to ever put something back together with LaTanya, she had enough common sense to know this wasn’t the way to do it.

  “Then you tell me what feels good.” Savannah would not be stopped. She placed both her hands on Michelle’s large breasts beneath the water and pushed them together and apart in a circular motion. “Is this good?”

  “Savannah, really now! Well, yes, it feels good.” The turn of events was not a bad thing. After all, she had no guarantee LaTanya would take her back. She was feeling much refreshed from the pool and now LaTanya’s hot little sister was insistent. How could she refuse? “This is to help you with Junior, right?”

  “Yes. Please say you’ll show me.”

  “Okay, I’ll show you.”

  Savannah dropped her hands and stood a little straighter as if to demonstrate she was ready, showing off her pert breasts as they floated at the water line.

  “Um, usually I’m kissing a little before going there…”

  “Then we should kiss. You can never have too much practice,” Savannah declared as she put her arms around Michelle’s neck and brought her lips near. “Go ahead. Kiss me. I know you kiss girls all the time.”

  Michelle embraced Savannah around the curve of her waist and looked into her eyes, warm and brown, her lashes wet and stuck together in dark, shiny spikes. She closed her eyes and kissed Savannah gently, not sure if she should open her mouth. Michelle kissed the young woman’s face and landed back on her lips while naturally moving her hands, squeezing her close. Her breasts felt good against Savannah’s chest. Savannah opened her mouth slightly and Michelle licked inside then came out and sucked on Savannah’s generous lips. She moved her hands slowly to the front and positioned Savannah to delicately massage her tit, being careful not to focus too much on her crinkled nipple. Her hand squeaked along the wet skin. She broke from their kiss and looked at Savannah.

  “That’s what I’m talking about—feeling right nice. Junior never did anything like that. He’s always acting like he’s in a hurry, like his daddy is going to walk in on us any minute.”

  “Well, forget Junior for today,” Michelle said as she dribbled a stream of water from her hand down Savannah’s front. The water trickled into separate rivulets and fell back into the pool.

  “Aren’t you going to finish?”

  “More? How many lessons were you thinking?”

  Savannah put her finger on Michelle’s lower lip and Michelle took the tip into her mouth and suckled it. “I’m thinking we should at least finish what we started.”

  “You want everything? Like…” Michelle nodded her head at everything below the waterline. Savannah nodded. Michelle smiled. This was her lucky day. “Then we best get out of the pool. Water’s fun for some things and better when you’re more experienced. I think we should get out.”

  They climbed out and toweled off. Their tea had the last traces of ice and was getting warm, but its sweet wetness was welcome nonetheless. Savannah suggested they lay their towels side by side beneath the pecan tree, as it would still be too hot in the house. Savannah lay down on her back. Her breasts perked skyward and her bush began to dry into a small, unruly ball of fluff. Michelle joined her and the two made out beneath the shady branches. Savannah tasted of sweet tea and her face and neck were salty with perspiration.

  Michelle took her time loving the young lady. Savannah was receptive to her touch and let it show. Michelle traced her fingers up and down Savannah’s firm curves. She made circles around her breasts, winding in smaller and smaller spirals until her fingertips found their center point and stayed there. She pressed in each nipple and then moved up and down Savannah’s body with licks and kisses until she landed on first one nipple and then the other, mindful of avoiding anything that might be rough, and certainly doing nothing like what Junior might have done in the name of lovemaking. Savannah hummed a sigh-like note from time to time and didn’t seem the least bit self-conscious or timid as she experienced Michelle’s touch.

  “You want everything, huh?” Michelle asked. Savannah’s reply was to open her legs. This is too good to be true, thought Michelle, and yet, here we are. She ran her fingers the full length of Savannah’s body. The young woman flinched when her to
es got tickled. Savannah laughed.

  “Is it okay to laugh while you’re doing it?” she asked.

  “Sure! Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Just have yourself a good time.” Michelle resumed her massage and Savannah let out a little moan. “See, this is better, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, yeah. I was thinking what to do about Junior when you pulled up the drive. And I thought to myself, who’s going to know more about what a woman likes than a woman who knows what other women like?”

  Michelle chuckled. “I’m glad my reputation is good for something.”

  Savannah opened her legs a little wider and Michelle made her way down, stopping to lick the moisture pooled in Savannah’s navel. She blew onto Savannah’s bush to separate the hairs and saw a little pink skin hiding inside. Parting the hairs with her fingers, she could see a slight glistening. She reached both of her hands beneath Savannah’s butt and raised her up to her mouth. She kissed and licked high up on both sides of her legs before settling into the wet center of her youthful womanhood. Again, Michelle took her time, a fact Savannah seemed to appreciate. No one’s daddy was going to interrupt them. Her tongue ran over and around, inside and out; she suckled and kissed and tried to think of ways to give pleasure, ways that were most likely new and wonderful judging by the hardened nub nestled beneath the younger woman’s mound.

  Without warning, Savannah bucked up as if her butt had caught fire. “Oh! Oh! That’s it! Oh!” Michelle released her hands and let Savannah’s bottom rest on the towel. “You did it! I did it!” she cried. “I finally had an orgasm! Wow!”

  “You never had an orgasm?”

  “Nope.” Savannah looked sheepish. “Never did. Until now, that is.”

  “Well, hallelujah!”

  “It was incredible! Like I’m shivering from the inside out. But…I was hoping you’d, you know, with your fingers. And now it’s over.”

  “We can still do that,” Michelle said.

  Savannah sat up wide awake. “Really? But I already…”

  “That’s okay. We just keep doing it, that’s all. Since this was your first, take a little break and enjoy the feeling.” Michelle nudged Savannah back onto the towel and gave her a little body massage to keep her interested. After a few minutes, she positioned her leg between Savannah’s and pressed in over and over with her firm thigh. Then, she moved her hand down to Savannah’s fuzzy bush. She licked a finger—not that she needed to—and held Savannah on her nub for a few moments without moving. They kissed and Michelle rocked her finger a little at a time until it had entered its mark. She kissed Savannah’s neck as she worked her down below. It was a challenge to stay focused and not think about coming. Her own twat, which pulsed and dripped pussy juice down her leg, was becoming as insistent as Savannah. Michelle finger-fucked her for a good, long while, and with one thrust, Savannah announced to everything within a mile her unbelievable pleasure. Michelle’s fingers were squeezed so tight she thought the circulation would quit. And then Savannah shuddered and fell on her back, exhausted, catching her breath.

  “Holy Christmas! I had another one! So this is what you and LaTanya were up to.”

  Michelle pressed on her own clit. The pressure had gotten almost painful and she could feel it throbbing. It wouldn’t take much for her to come. “Not exactly,” she replied while trying to even out her breathing. “It’s different; with everyone it’s different. You were amazing.”

  Savannah propped herself up on her elbows. Her dark body gleamed as dappled sunlight danced around across her skin. She glanced at Michelle’s hand, which seemed frozen with tension. “And then did LaTanya take a turn with you?”

  “Sometimes we took turns and sometimes we did it together. I know I could use a little help right about now. This has gotten me all worked up. In a good way, mind you. But you don’t have to. I can do it.”

  “No, I want to! Let me. Lie down. Right here.” She patted the ground, sat up and made a space on the towels for Michelle. “I probably won’t be as good as you. I’ve never done this—to myself. I told all my girlfriends I did, but that was only because they said they did it. Really, I never have.”

  “Are you sure you want to?” asked Michelle.

  “It was better than I ever imagined. Like a triple rainbow, and peach ice cream, and all my favorite things in the world. Now I know what everyone’s talking about. I want to try. Let me try.” Savannah’s eyebrows arched upward in a nuanced gesture, the same pleading Michelle saw earlier in the pool, and she knew she could not refuse.

  Savannah was a good student. She imitated some of the things Michelle had done and made her wait. Michelle was fit to be tied by the time Savannah got around to pushing in one of her fingers. Michelle came instantly. And being a good student, Savannah had also learned that unlike her experiences with Junior, coming didn’t mean stopping. By the time they finished with each other, the sun had lowered in the sky and the unbearable heat had slackened. They took one last dip in the pool, splashed around and embraced in the cool water. Buddy wandered by with his food dish in his mouth, and dropped it by the lounge chair. He let out a shrill yawn and looked up at Savannah expectantly.

  “Someone’s hungry, huh, Buddy?” Savannah said. “Guess it’s time to get out.”

  After they dressed, Michelle embraced Savannah again and kissed her deeply with her tongue. She looked into her dark brown eyes. “Now you promised not to tell and I’m going to hold you to it. This here’s a small town and I’ll find out if you do.”

  “What’s to tell?” said Savannah. “That Junior and I broke up and now I’m going out with you? What do you suppose folks would say about that?”

  Michelle smiled and kissed Savannah on the forehead. “They’d say, ‘I never did understand why a smart girl like Savannah was hanging out with that Peyroux boy.’ And I’d have to agree.”

  DAFFODILS

  Sally Bellerose

  I am vainly, passionately in love with my garden. I consider each crocus bud to be swelling by the grace of the sweat that dripped off my neck while I planted last fall. The curves of the tulip leaves are the curve of my back, straining with the pitchfork over the compost heap. I have an ex-lover, Annie. My old girlfriend appreciates my vanities. She’s a fecund woman of fifty-five. Fecundity. God, I love that word. A word that celebrates the muck and mire we all spring from, the richness of life. A word you can use without feeling corny about the filling, swelling, bursting going on inside and outside of you.

  Like everything else in nature that’s alive and kicking, my ex-girlfriend and I know a sexy season when we feel it. Spring is fucking time. Since we broke up, there have been some years when I don’t see Annie all winter long. But you can bet your last tube of Vagilube, she’s going to show up at my front door, sometime before the season begins and as sure as taxes are due, smiling like she never ever did one wrong thing. She’s the first sign of spring: soft, moist and furrowed.

  This year Annie came on April first, All Fools’ Day. I know because my present, love-her-madly-till-death-do-we-part, girlfriend left for a conference in Erie, PA that morning. My girlfriend’s tracks where still fresh on the driveway when knock, knock, knock, Annie’s at my door.

  We sit quietly in the living room. I pour coffee. Her body, full on my couch, extravagant, is what my grandmother would have called pleasingly plump. In fact, Annie looks a lot like my grandmother, except her hair is not gray. Annie dyes her hair red; not auburn, red. She looks incredible. It’s one of those days when the light is so bright and the air is so clean that everything seems possible. I look out the window. I see my neighbor’s rusty trash cans on their sides near the border of my garden. The damned kids have thrown them over the fence again. When I smile at the sun bouncing off the dirty metal barrels, I know Annie and I are going to end up naked.

  It’s always the same. We start out polite, acting like we aren’t affected by the bulge in the daffodils anymore, pretending we don’t have some unspoken pact to celebrate the rituals of spring together,
year after year. We’re dying to find out what changes and what remains the same, but we start out slow, just in case one of us has decided that we should quit while we’re ahead.

  Annie and I were born the same year in the month of April. We met in the spring, twenty-two years after our separate births. We were young together. We were young together until we were forty-six. Then we weren’t together and we weren’t young. Middle age: I’ve never been able to wrap my mind around that season of life. It’s not what I expected. I thought middle-life would take over and make me respectable, settled, comfortably bored. Now Annie and I are both fifty-five, on the cusp of old age, approaching old-ladyhood as unsettled and wanton as we were thirty-three years ago. Annie says you’re only as old as you feel. Well I feel fifty-five springs horny.

  I look at Annie, wrinkles deepening around her eyes as she smiles at me. I see old familiar lust forming in the lines at the corners of her mouth. She brings her coffee to her lips. There’s a fold inside her elbow that I don’t remember from last year. Annie, we’re turning into old women with desire tucked in the bends and kinks of our skin.

  Old women, I like the sound of that. I touch my neck, my skin warm and loose. Old women, sitting on the couch unfolding. I like the feel of it. Especially in spring. Spring has a way of honoring the layers of life that came before. The thicker the blanket of dead leaves, kitchen scraps, manure and snow, the more succulent the hyacinth’s new shoots. I like having all those winters, all those springs backing me up. It’s good that I’m still alive. I’m just starting to get the hang of life. It’s mostly the dying at the end part I’m having a hard time adjusting to.

  I lean back on the couch and close my eyes. Annie sits quietly beside me. She touches my hand. Softly her fingertips turn over my memory. I think of Annie’s hot breath on the back of my neck, her fingers reaching around my waist to unzip my jeans from behind. I don’t think of us as any age. I remember how the sweat forms in the small of her back as she moves on top of me and calls my name. I try to remember where we found the guts to take these liberties so long ago. Even youth doesn’t give two women license to do these things together. Maybe age stops asking for permission.