The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica

by Barbara Cardy

  Sheila will place the tip of the blade at the edge of her panties and slowly inch its way down to the crotch. She’ll rip her panties off and with a quick slice into the centre of the bra the woman will stand before her naked.

  The woman’s body is beautiful. She has dark black hair that hangs over her face as she continues to struggle with the men. Her pubic hair is also dark and stands out against her pale white skin. She’ll have a perky arse and long muscular legs.

  If this fantasy was real I’d want to go in there and throw myself into the woman’s pussy. With all those other women in the room watching me I’d let them rip off my clothes and have their way with me. That scenario will be for another fantasy though.

  I’d be so hot watching that I’d carefully slip out of my panties and quickly stuff them into my bag. I’d run my hand over my mound and pussy before sliding a finger into my wet slit. That would feel so good. I’d throw my bag over my back to allow me the use of both hands as I pull back the hood of my clit, smearing some of my juices over it and begin to gently rub it.

  My attention will be drawn back to the activities at hand and while fingering myself I’d watch as they lashed her to something on the floor. A waitress is on her knees in front of a woman whose black robe is open, revealing her nakedness underneath. The woman slings one leg over the arm of the chair and the waitress will use a vibrator to stimulate her. Then she’ll lower her head; her tongue will flicker out to lick her. The woman will grab the back of her head and draw her in closer, before collapsing back on the chair to enjoy.

  While this is going on the two guys will hoist their captive up to what looks like a rack after they have already spreadeagled and tied her to it. They hook the pulley ropes to one of the pillars and then move away.

  Sheila will walk around her to admire her body, her fingers trailing over her skin. She’ll have a small whip in her hand, and she’ll stand in front of the girl, smacking it into the palm of her other hand as though to frighten her. Something is being said but I’ll have no idea what. Then she’ll lash at the girl’s breasts while she begs for her to stop.

  This is turning me on. I smear my juices over my clit and rub hard, enjoying the rawness of it all. I’d never been whipped or spanked – well, not like that – and I’m finding it quite a turn on, imagining what it would feel like.

  Sheila will continue to whip the girl and I will see faint welts rising over her body before she falls to the floor in front of the girl and begins to lick her and I’ll be so turned on just by thinking how my mousy flatmate would be into this sort of thing as I balance precariously on the crate.

  Her tongue will roam over the girl’s body before she stands and retrieves the whip. She’ll take the handle and probe it into her pussy and I’ll watch, licking my lips, as she inches it in and then begins to fuck her with it. This will all be too much for me and my juices will run down the inside of my thigh.

  Now all the women in the black robes rise and come towards the girl on the rack. Their hands will be all over her, pawing at her breasts, fingers in her pussy and her hole, mouths licking every part of her. The men will not move from their position and from what I can see they certainly won’t have hard ons. I’ll assume them to be gay! How could you not be turned on by that display?

  I can’t see much; their bodies will block my view. I’d be so turned on that I’d lean my back against the wall and rub my clit harder, bring on a powerful orgasm and secretively hope that someone is watching me. I’d be as horny as hell. I’d want to go and see my girlfriend Louise but would be hesitant to leave.

  An approaching car will make the decision for me. I’d jump from the crate and hide around the back. The car will drive past though, not even slow down. I’d be pretty sure that this is where Sheila has been going every Friday night and know I can always come back every Friday night to watch. I’d need some relief so I run back to my car to visit Louise.

  The desire to be fucked and the thought of Louise wearing her big black dildo has me driving like a maniac. I don’t tell her what I’ve witnessed but Louise is wondering why I’m so randy when I practically tear her clothes from her and demanded a good fucking.

  The thought of fucking Louise right now nearly has me putting a stop to this fantasy but I want to continue on, to play it out to the end.

  We’d spend the night and the next day locked in each other’s arms but I make sure I’ll be home early Saturday night so I’ll be fresh for Sunday morning. I’ll confront Sheila about her sexuality and I’ll definitely want to see her naked so I’ll have to come up with a plan.

  I’d be nervous. Butterflies would flutter around my stomach as I bathe and make myself up. I wouldn’t be quite sure how to go about it, and by the time Sheila does come home the thought of ravishing her body will be the only thing in my mind.

  “Have a nice weekend?” I’d ask as she tries to sneak in.

  “Oh, you’re up,” she’d say, stating the obvious.

  “Yeah. Thought I’d get up early and welcome you home,” I’d say.

  “Why?” she’d ask.

  I’d rise from the couch and walk towards her. Her eyes would be open wide; her tongue licking at her beautiful full lips. I’d lift my hand and release the clasp from her hair. It would fall around her shoulders and I’d remove her glasses and place them on the table. Slowly I’d unbutton her coat, slip it down her arms to reveal her sexy teddy that she’d still be wearing.

  She’d stand there breathing hard as I soak in her beauty. I’d run my hand down the side of her face and grab the nape of her neck. I’d pull her back by the hair and kiss the hollow of her throat. She’d reward me with a low moan of pleasure.

  My tongue will seek out a nipple as I pull her hair back harder. I’d flicker my tongue around, draw it into my mouth to suck on as my fingers roam her abdomen; her mound, and then I’d cup her pussy.

  She’d grab at me, pull me into her body as her tongue kisses my mouth with such passion. My hands will be all over her, pulling at her stockings, tearing them in the process, while I try to undo her teddy. She’ll laugh, push me away from her, and wiggle her way out of it.

  She’ll stand there before me only in her ripped stockings and stilettos. I’ll lay her down on the white couch, her dark skin standing out beautifully against it. I’d run my hands over her body, cup her beautiful breasts, lick at her dark nipples, smother myself into her cleavage before my hands go down further, into her kinky pubic hair and down to her slit.

  I’d open her up like a flower, her outer lips will be like soft petals, her scent intoxicating as my nose nuzzles against her clit. Her hands will massage my scalp, pull me closer to her as the tip of my tongue runs over a stud that will be pierced through her clit.

  Her long legs will wrap themselves around my head, crushing me while I devour her. I’ll pull back to feast my eyes on her while I quickly slip out of my own clothes. I’d lie on top of her in the sixty-nine position, my legs straddling her head.

  I quickly remove my clothing so I can touch myself, massage my breasts, finger myself while I think about what I’d do to her if she was really here in my bed with me.

  I’d be fascinated by the colour of her dark skin and hair against my own light complexion and blond hair. My hair would fall over her mound and for a moment the contrast of our colours would hypnotize me. She would pull at my hips, try to drag me down. Her scent would waft up to me, awaken me and I would grind my face into her, allow her juices to smear over my cheeks, lips, chin and mouth.

  We’d ravish each other, pleasing, as only women know how. Later we’d lie on the couch locked in each other’s arms.

  “How did you know?” she’d ask.

  “I didn’t,” I’d lie.

  “I didn’t want you to know,” she’d say.

  “Why?” I’d ask.

  “Every time I live with a girl, their girlfriends always get jealous and I’m asked to leave. So I decided this time to play it cool, hide who I really was,” she’d say.

/>   “I can understand why people would get jealous of you. You’re beautiful,” I’d whisper into her hair, as I’d hold her tight.

  “Come with me,” she’d giggle. “I’ve got something to show you.”

  She’d lead me into her room and I’d watch her sexy arse sashaying provocatively before me. She’d lay me on her bed and retrieve a box from underneath.

  “See anything in there that you like?” she’d ask.

  It would be full of dildos and sex toys. Some I’ve never seen before. I’d pull out a huge black one with a tickler attached. I’d lift my eyebrows indicating I’m interested. She’d laugh and strap it on.

  I’d lie back on her bed; my legs open and she’d kneel before me. She’d probe my outer lips, I’d reach up to pull her to me, kiss her hungrily on the mouth. I’d be able to taste myself on her lips and I’d grab her by the arse so the dildo could ram into me. She’d be amazing, having mastered the strokes so that in no time I’d be coming.

  Oh, the thought of her and the dildo had me rubbing my clit wildly, my back arching as an orgasm builds up.

  Then she’d roll me over, hoist up my hips and have me in the doggy position. This way the dildo would reach into the very depths of me, hitting my g-spot while the tickler tantalized my hole.

  She’d be an amazing lover and we’d spend the whole day in bed together. Later, while lying in the bath I’d want to broach the subject of her weekends away.

  “So does this mean your Friday nights will change?” I’d ask.

  “I don’t see why,” she’d say, allowing soapy bubbles to slide over my breasts as her hands caress me.

  “I just thought maybe we could spend more time together?” I’d ask.

  “We have all week,” she’d say evasively.

  “Yeah I know,” I’d say. “But what if I want to take you out somewhere?”

  “We’ll talk about it when the time arises,” she’d say. “What about Louise?”

  “What about her?”

  “You’ll still see her, won’t you?”

  “Of course.” The thought of a threesome would be uppermost in my mind.

  “Good,” she’d say. “I don’t want to spoil what we’ve got, either. Our living together has always been comfortable.”

  I’d wonder why she wouldn’t mention the warehouse and the group she is involved with. I wouldn’t care. I’d hope that one day she’d initiate me into their ways. The thought of being tied up and at her mercy would definitely appeal to me.

  It would appeal to Louise too.

  Louise . . . Still sexually aroused, I pulled myself away from this fantastic fantasy and decided to ring Louise.

  “Hello,” she said sleepily.

  “Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?” I asked.

  “What’s wrong?” she wanted to know.

  “Just wondering if you’d like some company. Thought we might pull out your box of toys and have some fun tonight.”

  “Do you know what time it is?”

  “No, what?”

  “It’s four in the morning,” she said.

  “You’re kidding,” I said truly surprised.

  I didn’t realize my fantasy had gone on for so long.

  “I’m feeling horny,” I said.

  “Obviously,” she laughed. “Hurry up and get yourself over here then.”

  We had the best sex ever that night and from now on I intend to conjure up lots of fantasies, thought I might even write about them, see if I can get them published. Let other people enjoy them as much as I did inventing them.

  Shiny Things

  Elizabeth Cage

  Business had been good so I’d decided to rent out my neat little ground floor flat in the quiet cul de sac I’d lived in for the past three years. It was a nice area, “desirable” according to the estate agents, so I knew I’d have no problems letting it. As soon as the ad appeared in the local paper I was inundated with phone calls. I wanted the new tenant to be female. I had this stereotypical idea that a woman would take better care of the place than a man. Not very logical, considering I was one of the untidiest people I knew. My excuse was I’d outgrown the space and that’s why there was clutter and dust everywhere. Not today, however. I might live in a sought-after area, but I’d seen enough daytime TV to know you had to make an effort when you were showing people around. So the usually discarded clothes were scooped from the back of the sofa and shoved into the wardrobe, shoes and books were pushed into cupboards and kitchen surfaces were bleached.

  Lisa was the first person to view. Lisa Steele. I liked the name. It sounded a mixture of feminine and masculine, vulnerable yet strong. We’d arranged a Saturday morning, not too early (I like my beauty sleep), 11 a.m. to be precise. The other prospective tenants were scheduled to view after lunch. Lisa only lived the other side of town, just a fifteen-minute hop by car, so when it got to 11.35 a.m. and she hadn’t appeared I was surprised and a little irritated. Finally, at 11.45 a.m., the doorbell rang.

  “I’m soooo sorry,” she said sweetly. “Traffic was horrendous. A bus broke down on the roundabout. Hope I’m not too late?” Her voice was breathy and I could see she was flustered. It was a hot, sticky day, with the sun blazing, horrible weather to be stuck in town centre traffic. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was plastered to her forehead and tiny beads of sweat trickled down into the crevice of her luscious full breasts, pushed up to full effect by a plum red halter neck top.

  “No worries,” I replied. “I’m Kat. Come on in.” I gestured her through the door, noticing her long slim legs, smooth and shapely under a short flared denim skirt.

  “Glad you found it okay.” My eyes continued to travel downwards, admiring her turquoise painted toenails. She had pretty feet. “Nice ankle bracelet, by the way.”

  She smiled, the silver bells jingling lightly in time with the sway of her hips when she walked. “Thanks. I like shiny things.”

  “As you can see, this is the kitchen. Small but functional.”

  The walls were painted white with a hint of pear, with light pine units. I pointed out the fixtures, my mind elsewhere. “Washing machine and fridge. Cooker. Sink. Microwave. All staying. The flat is let as fully furnished.”

  The window was wide open but the heat from the summer sun was still oppressive. “Would you like a drink?” I asked, feeling very thirsty.

  “Mmm, yes please. Something cold.”

  I opened the fridge, the waft of chilled air very welcome. “Apple and mango juice?”

  “Great.”

  “I’ll put plenty of ice in it.”

  She took it gratefully and sipped. A drop of the golden juice ran down her mouth, and I traced its journey down her chin and graceful neck, onto her chest down to that deep crevice again. She noticed where I was looking and held me in her warm brown eyes for a while, giving a playful smile.

  “So how long have you been here? And why are you moving? Not because of some creepy neighbour from hell?”

  I laughed. “No, the neighbours are lovely and I’m not just saying that. An elderly lady lives one side and a young couple on the other. All pleasant people. I’ve been here three years and I shall miss the place, but needs must. What about you?”

  “I’ve been sharing a house with a couple of friends, which was fun at first, but now it’s time to find my own place.” She’d finished her drink already and I downed mine, aware that I was still thirsty.

  “Well, best show you the rest of the flat. The bathroom’s there. Again, small but well designed. Power shower, sink, loo. Bath, of course.”

  “I like that it’s all white. Clean and bright.”

  She was standing close enough to touch, the smell of her sweat mixed with a citrus scent, a heady mixture. I wondered if it was her shower gel – orange blossom, or satsuma or grapefruit. Ripe fruit. I was thinking of those damned breasts again. Stop it, Kat, I told myself.

  “And this is the bedroom.” My tongue lingered on the word and I hoped she didn’t notice.

  She seem
ed impressed. “It’s very spacious.”

  “Big enough.” I found myself imagining her spreadeagled on my queen-size bed. I felt like a bitch on heat.

  She noticed the big framed photos on the wall immediately. “Is that you?”

  I nodded, blushing slightly. “I used to do fetish modelling.”

  “They’re gorgeous. You look so sexy. I love the shiny boots. Those killer heels!”

  She looked at me, intrigued and I wondered what she was thinking.

  “Through here is the lounge,” I continued, sweating. “I think it’s a good size.”

  Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the plasma screen TV, expensive hi-fi system, pink leather sofa, pink blinds, polished wooden floor, pink fluffy rug.

  “I know pink isn’t to everyone’s taste, but it’s my favourite colour,” I explained.

  “Hey, I like pink.” She paused, considering her next sentence. “But I didn’t expect to see one of those in here.”

  “I wondered when you’d say something. You can hardly miss it, I suppose. And no, it’s not here to hold up the ceiling, as the gas man apparently thought.”

  She giggled. “I bet. It’s very shiny.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take it down before I leave. If there are any marks on the ceiling they’ll be made good.”

  “Are you a pole dancer then?”

  “No. Yes. Sort of.”

  “Do you dance in clubs?”

  “I have done, in the past. But I teach it mainly.”

  “Wow.”

  “I’m setting up a mini studio in my new house, with two new poles and mirrors. It’ll look great. I have lots of clients.”

  “I can imagine. I bet you look amazing on that pole.” She added, “You could show me.”

  I hesitated, not expecting this.

  “I’d love to see you dance,” she continued. “Go on. Please.”

  It was hard to refuse that sultry voice.

  “I have to warm up first.”

  “Would have thought we were both hot enough already,” she joked.