Sometimes She Lets Me

by Tristan Taormino

  I jumped out and grabbed her, pulling her hard to me as I kissed the back of her neck.

  “I guess we know who’s best, huh?” I taunted as I held her arms to her side.

  She couldn’t help but giggle as she squirmed in my grip.

  “You cheated,” she gasped.

  “You wanted to fuck up, so I could catch you again, don’t front,” I pointed out as I took a few steps forward, forcing her to move with me until she stood before a large tree. I placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her down to her knees, facing away from me.

  Gasping for breath, Keisha planted both hands on the ground beneath her, her ass high in the air. My movements were quick, and before she knew it, I was behind her, jeans unzipped, dick in hand. I grabbed hold of her panties by the thin strip of fabric in the back, and was about to pull them to the side, when I thought better of it and gave a rough tug, tearing them away from her body. Keisha gave a loud gasp, bucking her hips in anticipation. There was no point in drawing this out, ’cause we were both primed. I pushed into her deeply, my entry the smoothest it’s ever been ’cause of how wet she was. She groaned loudly, pushing back against me, her ass warm against my denim-covered thighs.

  I sat back on my heels, getting a good grip on her wide hips as I pulled out to the head and then pushed back in, wanting to give her every inch of me. She was so wet that even in the dark I could see her juices glistening on the dick, and she was making guttural noises every time I entered her. My fingers dug into her flesh as I stepped up the pace, just enough to watch her asscheeks shake with every move we made.

  “So, you got your ass caught up, huh?” I asked, giving a cheek a playful swat.

  “Shiiit,” she whispered.

  “What was that?” I slapped her ass again, a bit harder.

  “Dammit, Angel,” she cried out, her ass starting to rotate on my dick.

  “What, baby girl?” I asked as I gave her a quick thrust that made her body jump.

  “It feels so goooood, fuck.” She let her head fall forward as she quickened her hips.

  I weighed my options and decided I wanted to enjoy a show. I stopped moving and removed my hands.

  Keisha’s head snapped up and she looked silently back at me.

  “Who told you to stop? Keep going.” I gave her ass a hard slap and she whimpered. “Come on, Keisha, move that ass.”

  Her eyes met mine for a moment, and I saw the lustful twinkle in them before she began moving her hips. I remained still, keeping my hands at my sides as I watched the woman I love fuck herself on my dick. She was working it like only a sista could, her pussy literally pulling my dick into it as she threw herself back and forth. I was mesmerized by every move she made; how her lower half seemed to have a life of its own and how my body was oh so willing to oblige its manipulations. She suddenly lifted her left leg, and I swear on everything that I am, my dick got sucked in deeper, and I quickly grabbed the leg to balance her as her ass started to ricochet off my body. In this position, I had a perfect view of her pussy greedily consuming my dick and her clit swollen and full, standing away from her body. I pulled her leg back, holding it against me, and reached for that clit, massaging it.

  “Sweet Jesus…” Keisha wailed and I watched her fingers dig into the earth. I gently pulled on that slippery nub, feeling it pulsate and knowing she was gonna blow at any moment. I started tapping on one side of her clit, as I resumed moving, keeping her locked in her position.

  “Yes, Angel, yes!” she cried as I fucked her. I was slamming into her harder and harder, hearing the slapping sounds of her ass connecting with my body, and I could feel the beginnings of my own cum. I was on a mission to fill and stretch that pussy to the hilt, jabbing her like a piston. She was back to whimpering, only louder this time, every lunge I made causing her entire body to convulse.

  Just when I was sure she was ’bout to cum, I let go of her leg and quickly pushed a firm finger into her ass and she hollered, her body seizing and then freezing as she came, the song that I practically live for escaping her lips. I was still working her pussy as my finger dug in deeper, forcing every shudder out of her beautiful body. I bit my lip hard as I silently came, unable to take my eyes off her.

  Keisha collapsed on the ground, and I knew that once morning came and she saw all the dirt and bits of leaves in her hair she’d freak, but I couldn’t care less as I carefully pulled out of both her holes and lay beside her. We were both breathing heavily, and I found myself staring up at the night sky again.

  “You were right,” she said, still gasping.

  “About what?” I turned to look at her and saw that familiar wicked glint in her eyes.

  “About not really wanting to be a kid again,” she replied. “’Cause only grown folks can play tag like that.”

  All I could do was laugh.

  HOMECOMING QUEEN

  Anna Watson

  In the park after supper, Jenna leaned against a jungle gym and watched Pierre, her mother’s middle-aged Pekinese, totter to and fro, lifting his curly leg. She was home for Thanksgiving, incognito, relaxed. She didn’t know anyone in town anymore.

  “Mind putting him back on his leash?” The voice was low and raspy, coming from somewhere behind her. Jenna startled, and snapped out of the postbrisket reverie she’d been enjoying. Her mom made killer brisket.

  “Sure, yeah, of course. Sorry!” She whistled for Pierre, who obligingly trotted over and let himself be leashed.

  “Thanks—it’s just that Geordie can get a little too frisky.” Jenna looked at the dog, a skinny, cheerful basset hound, then up at the woman, who was wearing a suit and tie, her salt and pepper hair buzzed, her biceps bulging. Jenna came to attention immediately, breasts up and out as if she were modeling the most delectable lingerie instead of her slouch-around-Mom’s-house tatty sweats.

  “Hey—we were in high school together! You’re Maude, right?” It came back to her all at once: the shy, nerdy girl who transferred to Christ the King junior year and became the star of the soccer team. The one who always wore loafers and white button-down shirts; the one Jenna’s crowd avoided like the plague; the one, Jenna realized with a feeling like winning the lottery, who was, and always had been, butch, butch, butch.

  “That’s right.” Maude looked her over, grinning and raising an eyebrow. Jenna blushed and put a hand on her arm, about to introduce herself, just as Pierre and Geordie got into a snuffling, yipping scuffle, and had to be separated.

  Later that evening, Jenna emerged triumphant from her mother’s walk-in closet, a pair of strappy, four-inch heels in one hand, and in the other, a little wisp of a dress, black, low in front and lower in back. Her mother puffed out her cheeks in embarrassment and made a grab, but Jenna held it out of reach.

  “Secret life, Mom?” she asked, examining the dress more closely. There was a bust variation between the two of them, but she expected she could squeeze in there, which was good, because the fanciest thing she’d packed was jeans. Who knew she was going to need date wear this vacation?

  “Oh, you know.” Her mother smoothed the bedspread and straightened a few perfume bottles on the dresser. “Your father likes me to wear that. Not to go out, of course, just, you know, around the house. Now for heaven’s sake, I have to go get started on that turkey or we won’t have any dinner tomorrow!”

  “Huh,” Jenna said to her mother’s retreating back, adding to herself, “then I bet you have something else I can use in here.” Sure enough, after digging through the lingerie drawer, Jenna scored a pair of black fishnets and a lacy, red thong, but the matching bra just wasn’t big enough. The dress, though, when she tried it on, was so tight around the chest and provided so much cleavage all on its own, that Jenna didn’t need anything more.

  After her parents had gone into their bedroom and Jenna could hear her dad snoring over the drone of the ten o’clock news, she got her mother’s long down coat—actually, it had been hers for a brief and stylistically unfortunate period in the ’80s during h
igh school—and snuck out of the house. She walked to Maude’s parents’ and settled in to wait in the driveway where Maude had told her to. There was a motion light that came on whenever she shifted position, and she kept expecting Geordie to sense her out there and start barking. It was one of the tract houses near the electrical plant, and over the beating of her heart and the in/out of her breath, Jenna could hear the generator’s low hum. She shivered, her feet swelling in the too-tight pumps, her pussy wet and growing wetter as she thought about the quickbut-thorough hug Maude had given her that afternoon.

  At last, the lights in what must have been Maude’s parents’ bedroom clicked off. Almost immediately, the garage door opened, and Maude was beckoning to her. As soon as she got in, Maude wrapped her in another hug, holding her up as Jenna had a bit of a rag doll moment, succumbing to the sensations of Maude’s biceps pressing against her ear; Maude’s cologne, something with a hint of cedar; Maude’s lips in her hair; the feel of Maude’s dick pressing against her thigh.

  “Come on, now,” Maude whispered. “And don’t make any noise—they’re light sleepers. If my brother finds out you’re here, it will be all over school tomorrow, and little Miss Popular won’t be so popular anymore.”

  Jenna muffled a gasp against Maude’s shoulder and let herself be led through the dark kitchen and up carpeted stairs to a room at the end of the hall. Maude shut the door quietly.

  “It doesn’t lock,” she said in a low voice. “And my mother will come check on me if she hears anything—she’s been worried about me because my grades are dropping. And you know why? You know why my grades are dropping? Because of you. All I can think about is you.” She pushed Jenna against the door and ran her hands up under the coat, her breath deepening and catching in her throat as she felt the dress, the fishnets.

  “I’ve seen you,” whispered Jenna, arching her back so her breasts came into Maude’s hands. “You sit in the bleachers and watch when we’re practicing cheers. The other girls think you’re so creepy. I can feel your eyes on me. It makes me nervous, but I like it. I don’t know why. You’re so strange—everyone says you’re a dyke.”

  Maude pulled Jenna’s coat off and let it slide to the floor. The room was dark except for light from a streetlamp shining through the window onto the single bed. “Your boyfriend sits in the bleachers watching you too, doesn’t he? He doesn’t know you’re showing off for me when you do the splits and jump real high, your titties bouncing. He thinks you’re doing it for him.”

  “But I’m showing off for you,” sighed Jenna, as Maude’s thumbs found her nipples. “When he kisses me, I’m thinking about you, and if he ever found out, he would kill you.”

  She was pinned to the door, Maude’s body heavy against her, Maude’s hands on either side of her head. “Don’t make any noise, little Cheerleader,” Maude hissed, and shoved the side of her hand into Jenna’s mouth just in time. Jenna grabbed it with her teeth and moaned. “That’s right,” breathed Maude, her eyes gleaming. She pulled back her hand and gathered Jenna up, leaving the ridiculous coat crumpled on the floor. Maude laid her down on the bed, propping her head up on a pillow, straightening the dress over her thighs. “Let me look at you, baby. Let me look at Miss Popular, Miss Cheerleader. Let me see you now. Who’s got you now, Miss President of the French Club?”

  Jenna was panting, her whole body moving with her breath. No one had ever treated her like this, not even her last lover, who had claimed to be such a big bad top, and certainly dressed the part, but had only ever talked about spanking her and never did it.

  “You have me!” she said too loudly, and Maude’s forearm came down across her mouth, hurting her lips, making it so she could hardly breathe.

  “That’s right, I do. And you have to be quiet. If you make noise, I stop and you go home.”

  Jenna nodded, then shook her head, No, I won’t make noise, I promise, no noise. She put out her tongue to lick the rough material of Maude’s suit, then nibbled it. Maude took her arm away and put her lips to the wet spot, looking down at her.

  “This is a slutty dress,” she whispered, starting to move her hands possessively over Jenna’s body. “This is a slutty outfit—look at you, red lipstick, fishnets—you look like a whore in this stuff. I thought you were a wholesome girl, a good girl.”

  “No,” whispered Jenna. “No, I’m not.”

  “Not a good girl?” Maude came close to her and brushed her lips in a brief kiss. Jenna moaned and arched, and there was the arm over her mouth again. “You aren’t a good girl at all,” Maude whispered, breath hot in Jenna’s ear. “All the time you’re walking around school with your pack of popular friends, and inside your Calvin Kleins your pussy is throbbing for this, isn’t it?”

  She grabbed Jenna’s hands and pinioned them over her head, then straddled her face. She pressed her dick against Jenna’s mouth, filling her world with its shape and feel. Jenna rubbed her cheek against it, her lips, trying to catch it with her mouth, struggling to get her hands on it.

  “You can’t wait to get a feel of my cock, can you, Homecoming Queen?” Maude held her hands tighter and all she could do was moan quietly into Maude’s zipper.

  “No noise,” whispered Maude. “No noise, or I stop.” She swung her leg over and stood beside Jenna, who closed her eyes in anticipation. She could feel Maude wrapping something around her wrists, tying her to the headboard. She whimpered, opening her eyes, and saw Maude standing over her, inspecting her breasts, her legs. “What a slut,” she murmured. “Show me how much you want it, slut,” and then she was on top of her, elbows and forearms trapping her head, kissing her hard. Jenna breathed and melted under her weight, letting it push her fully into the bed, opening to the tongue calmly fucking her mouth. She couldn’t help herself, a loud moan escaped her, and instantly the delicious weight was gone, Maude had untied her hands and was on the other side of the room picking up her coat and holding it out to her.

  “I won’t do it again!” Jenna managed in a ragged whisper. “I promise!”

  Maude stared at her, eyes narrowed, then nodded and dropped the coat, coming back to stand beside the bed. She placed Jenna’s hands on the headboard, but didn’t tie them. “Don’t let go,” she ordered. “Don’t make any noise. Wait here.”

  Jenna closed her eyes, grabbing on to the posts, her body heaving and trembling. Maude left the room and didn’t come back for a long time. Jenna could hear the heat in the house going on and off, the dog patrolling the hall, cars on the distant highway, and underneath it all, the steady hum of the power plant, a bass note that went on and on.

  At last the door opened and there was Maude, pristine in her suit. Jenna felt rumpled and whorish in her mother’s dress, sticky and wanting. Maude gave her a drink of water from a glass with a straw in it, holding up her head, smoothing her hair. Jenna blinked tears out of her eyes and hoped Maude wouldn’t see, but she did.

  “Been a long time since you were with someone who knew how to take care of you, baby?” she asked, and Jenna nodded. “Well, I’m going to take care of you, don’t you worry. All that time you spend hanging out with those straight rich kids, and they just have no idea, do they, baby? No idea what a slut you are, how much you need to get fucked by the dyke, the one they make fun of, the one you don’t say hi to in the hall, but the one you’re thinking about when you lie in your bed at night and lift up your nightgown and touch yourself—because you do that, don’t you? You’re not such a good girl late at night when you’re alone in your little Laura Ashley bed, touching yourself, are you?”

  Jenna panted, shaking her head. “No, I’m not.”

  “Not what?”

  “Not a good girl. I’m a bad girl.”

  Maude cocked her head. “What’s that?” she whispered. “I can’t hear you.”

  Jenna took a breath, about to say it louder, then stopped herself. It was a trick. Maude was looking at her expectantly and there was that sadistic gleam again.

  “I’m a bad girl,” breathed Jenna,
so quietly that Maude had to lean over to hear her. “Your bad girl.” She gripped the bedposts tighter as Maude dropped onto her mouth, kissing her softly, sweetly.

  “Hey! What are you doing, slut?” Maude had Jenna’s earlobe between her teeth, her hand pressing on Jenna’s bucking cunt.

  “Please.” Jenna pressed her pussy into Maude’s hand.

  “You want me to do something with this?” Maude asked coolly. “Hmm.” She left Jenna’s side and knelt on the bed between her legs. She ran her hands up and down Jenna’s thighs and calves, the sensation exquisite through the fishnets. Jenna pumped her pussy up and down, past caring about anything but her own pleasure.

  “Hmm,” said Maude again, slipping her fingers under the waistband of the fishnets and beginning to peel them off. “Let’s see.” She took the stockings down to ankle level and Jenna hoped she would take off her heels, but she didn’t, leaving her hobbled. Maude smiled at the lacy red thong, then slid it down to rest above the stockings.

  “Well, well. Do your preppy friends know you shave your pussy, Miss Cheerleader? Does your boyfriend know? Or did you do it just for me? I think you did it just for me, didn’t you? And look how wet you are! Just like an animal in rut.” She settled into a more comfortable position, her face right above Jenna’s pussy, but not too close. “You want to give it to me so bad, then go ahead, baby. Feed it to me.”

  Jenna grabbed hard on to the bedposts and lifted her ass as high as she could, but she couldn’t go quite far enough. She moaned in frustration and Maude smirked. “What are you waiting for? I can smell it, but there’s nothing in my mouth. God, you’re wet, you whore. All right, I’m going to help you out a little. Stay like that.”