Toni’s gaze dropped between Sally’s legs.
Her eyes grew wide.
Her smile was appreciative.
She licked her lips hungrily.
And then she lowered her head.
Again, Sally urged her body not to stiffen. She tried to relax in the chair as Toni’s head moved closer. The pressure of cool hands sliding against the warmth of her inner thighs was maddeningly exciting. The first tickle of Toni’s fringe against her stomach warned her the inevitable moment of contact was getting nearer. Then the warmth of soft breath brushed her waxed mons pubis.
Toni’s tongue stroked the flesh of Sally’s sex.
It was nothing more than a feather-light caress. The simple sensation of a tongue slipping against her skin. Yet it inspired a reaction that pushed Sally to the brink of climax. She stiffened in her chair – amazed such sensations could be borne from so subtle a source. Tremors of raw ecstasy shivered from her loins. The inner muscles of her sex convulsed and twitched with avaricious greed. Gasping softly, desperate for Toni to continue, she wondered how much better the sensations would become when the woman properly began to excite her.
“You taste sweet,” Toni murmured.
Sally didn’t have the air in her lungs to accept the compliment. What little breath she did have was snatched away when Toni delivered another kiss to her sex. This time the woman attacked with more force. Her tongue pushed firm against the yielding split of Sally’s labia and eased between the moist folds of flesh. The sense of penetration; the gentleness of Toni’s mouth; the heat of her tongue; the breadth of it squirming inside her sex: all those sensations combined to take Sally to the brink of an explosion.
She gripped the sides of her chair and urged her legs further apart. If she had been more experienced with women, Sally believed she would be stroking the woman’s head, gripping a fistful of hair and guiding her wherever she desired. But because this was her first time Sally forced herself to sit still and enjoy. She quivered in the seat as Toni delivered fresh kisses and teetered agonizingly on the brink of release. Her muscles ached from the exertion of sitting still and, when Toni’s fingers pressed more firmly against her thighs and she finally touched her tongue to the tip of Sally’s clitoris, her restraint was banished.
Sally bucked against the chair.
Her hands gripped the seat so tight she could have snapped the wood.
A jolt of raw pleasure flourished from her sex like the opening to a prestigious firework display. The surge of delight hurtled through her inner muscles before erupting into a cascade of dizzying splendour. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut she could see the startling illumination of pure joy as her body thrilled with satisfaction. Her sex clenched greedily against Toni’s insistent kisses and her body melted with the fluid rush of orgasm.
She came back to the room as though she had been unconscious. She didn’t think the pleasure had been extreme enough to make her pass out. But it had been sufficiently distracting to let her lose a moment or two. The first thing she saw was Toni’s grin: moist and exciting.
“Are you going to undress?” Sally whispered.
“Would you want that?”
It took every ounce of Sally’s self-possession not to hurl herself at the woman and wrench the slinky black dress from her body. Showing a degree of control that bordered on being heroic she drew a deep breath and nodded. There was a maddening pause as Toni eased herself from the floor. And then that moment was dragged out as the woman brushed her dress down and began to prepare herself for the slow process of a striptease. Sally watched with mounting impatience as Toni placed one stockinged foot between her legs, and then raised the hem of her skirt. She was allowed a glimpse of the woman’s upper thigh as Toni reached for the lacy top of her stocking. And then she had to sit and squirm as the stocking was slowly rolled down to reveal one silky smooth leg.
The tease was not without its benefits.
Sally was able to admire Toni’s commanding beauty and anticipate all the pleasure the night still had to offer. And she was able to catch the musk of the woman’s arousal – a scent that was far more provocative than the heady perfume she wore. Sally studied Toni with forced patience as the woman shifted position and began to slide the second stocking slowly downwards. But her need for further satisfaction overruled her patience.
The prolonged tease of watching the second stocking sliding from Toni’s thigh to her calf was too much. As soon as Toni had pulled it from her foot, Sally stood up and pressed herself against the woman. Toni’s foot remained on the chair and Sally pressed herself against the roundness of her bare thigh. Her bare breasts were crushed against the sheer fabric of Toni’s dress. And then both women were embracing each other.
Chilly fingers slipped against Sally’s back, sliding down toward her buttocks. The scratch of Toni’s manicure clawed lightly at bare flesh as Sally grew used to the idea that she was naked and embracing a woman. Raising her face to meet Toni’s she studied the invitation of her moist lips for an instant, and then kissed her.
Aside from the exciting flavour of Toni’s mouth she found the taste of her own sex still rested on the woman’s lips. The forbidden flavour of her musk, warmed by Toni’s kisses, fuelled a fresh urge for further intimacy. Taking a brief control of the moment she pushed the woman into the shadows toward the settee. They tumbled down together in a tight embrace.
A book was beneath them.
Sally pushed it aside without a second thought. Her interest was fixed only on undressing Toni and making full use of the woman’s body. Urging the zipper at her back open; struggling to remove dark fabric and expose the pale flesh beneath; she gasped breathlessly as she stripped the woman bare.
Toni was naked beneath the dress.
Sally didn’t bother to worry why the woman hadn’t worn panties or a bra. If she had dwelt on the reasons she might have speculated that Toni had expected to seduce her this evening and was simply undressed and ready for action. But all Sally could think about was her need to taste and explore and again revisit the delight of having Toni’s tongue against her sex.
Slender, chilly fingers teased at her cleft.
As Sally admired the beauty of Toni’s exposed body, applying kisses to each firmly rounded breast, Toni touched the moist warmth of Sally’s sex. The contact was formidable and frightening. Each time Toni teased a finger against her, Sally came close to shrieking with another orgasm. Determined she wouldn’t simply succumb to the surge of satisfaction, adamant that she would properly enjoy Toni before that pleasure could take her, Sally pushed the hand aside and suckled against a breast.
Toni moaned.
The sound was the most rewarding exclamation Sally had ever heard.
The shadows of the room remained behind them, stretching darkness and accentuating their solitude. Sally suckled against Toni’s left breast, and then her right, building herself up to the impending thrill of tasting the woman’s sex. The prospect of another orgasm grew fat in her loins. Her movements and actions became urgent with greed. When Toni’s hand returned between her legs, trying to force further contact with the dewy lips of her sex, Sally tried to brush the fingers away.
“I only want to touch you,” Toni complained.
“I want to taste you first,” Sally hissed.
“I want to see you come again,” Toni countered.
They studied each other with mirrored expressions of determination.
Toni broke the silence. “Why don’t we try a different position?”
Sally allowed her to resume control of the evening. Following Toni’s guidance she lay on top, with her head between Toni’s legs and her sex hovering over Toni’s face. Her breasts pushed against the flat expanse of Toni’s toned stomach. Her own lower ribs were treated to the pressure of the woman’s nipples thrusting urgently against her flesh. But those sensations were merely peripheral distractions. Her true excitement came from the thrill of being so close to the neatly trimmed wetness of Toni’s sex.
“We could never have done anything like this while we were working together,” Toni marvelled.
When she spoke, Sally felt the breath from each syllable kiss at the split between her legs. Instead of allowing that pleasure to overwhelm her, Sally said, “I was just thinking the same thing.” She could have gone on to add that the strictures of office protocol would have made any relationship between two women unbearable if not impossible. There was too much gossip and too many rules and regulations that frowned on personnel fraternization. Before this evening they would have run the risk of ruining their careers. After, they would be in different departments and unable to exchange speculative glances and sly, suggestive smiles. This evening – with Toni about to move up the corporate ladder and Sally about to take her role at the head of advertising – was the only opportunity that existed.
Rather than saying any of those things, Sally simply lowered her face to the split of Toni’s sex. Lilac inner labia protruded gently from the tight split of the outer lips. Sally thought it looked as though the pussy was hungrily beseeching her for a kiss. She took a moment to drink the dizzying flavour of the woman’s scent. The feral fragrance was rich, exciting and tempting. And then her mouth engulfed the lips as she sucked and licked with inexpert hunger.
At the same moment Toni pushed her tongue against Sally’s sex.
The pressure of their naked bodies together was divine but unimportant. The pleasure of tasting Toni’s sex was a thrill Sally would remember for the rest of her days. But the true satisfaction came from the sensations of Toni’s tongue pushing into the tight muscles of her sex.
Sally tried to inflict the same pleasure on the woman beneath her. She writhed against Toni’s bare body with mounting impatience and urged her tongue between the wet, fleshy folds. Briefly she was able to dart her tongue against the pulsing bud of Toni’s clitoris. The action was followed by a groan. Toni’s hips squirmed and convulsed in a jerk of fluid satisfaction.
Sally barely had chance to acknowledge that she had caused Toni’s orgasm. A tongue slipped against her sex and her clit was caught between frantically suckling lips. The cataclysmic explosion of pleasure flourished from Sally’s sex. And this time, it was enough to make sure she lost consciousness for more than a few seconds.
Sally came back to herself, aware that Toni was asleep in the shadows by her side. She was shocked by what she had done and amazed by the way the evening had transpired. Snatching her clothes from the floor, dressing by the guttering candlelight that had illuminated their meal and their lovemaking, she realized her heart still raced each time her memory returned to all those things she and Toni had done. Dressing quickly, not bothering with her panties, stockings or bra, she simply pulled on her blouse and skirt and stepped into her shoes before reaching for her coat. Her fingers brushed against the cover of a book that had been pushed from the settee earlier. Anxious to look at anything that might distract her thoughts from all that she had just enjoyed, Sally brought it closer to the candlelight to read its title. Her pulse began to slow and her panic dwindled as she realized that Toni was also familiar with Sun Tzu. She wondered if, like her, Toni had also been reading Chinese philosophy prior to making plans for the evening.
In the Pink
Kristina Wright
“I fucking hate taffeta.” My assertion was met by stares and silence from the other three bridesmaids who crowded into the country club powder room with me. I don’t know what I was expecting. These girls were career bridesmaids while I was just the token dyke in the wedding party. My new sister-in-law Ginny was a wonderful girl, but it was an hour into this little shindig and I was ready to kick her ass for forcing me into a pink taffeta gown and matching underwear (a gift from the giddy bride). Then again, what did I know? If it wasn’t jeans and a T-shirt, I hated it. And I hated the fucking pink taffeta dress so much, I was getting hives.
“But you look so pretty,” cooed Melanie, one of the Stepford bridesmaids. She was dolled up in the exact same dress I was, but she somehow managed to look like she belonged in taffeta.
“I don’t want to look pretty,” I snarled, tugging at the neckline of the dress that barely covered the peekaboo lace of the matching pink bra I was wearing. “I want to get the hell out of this dress and into something that will let me breathe.”
A collective gasp went up from the bridesmaids.
“Oh no, the reception has just started. You have to wear the dress for the reception pictures,” scolded Victoria, the militant maid-of-honour. “And stop messing with your hair, you’ll pull out the curls.”
Me, with curls piled on top of my head. Me, in lace underwear. Me, in taffeta. It was some sort of wedding nightmare and I had agreed to this agony. “Shoot me now,” I muttered. For the sake of my big brother’s future happiness, I left the curls, the itchy lace underwear and the hideous dress alone.
The girls powdered their noses and we moseyed en masse back out to reception room of the Crystal River Country Club. Camera flashes blinded me as everyone but the waiters took my picture. I was trying to be a good sport, but I was stumbling around half-blind and unfortunately sober. I danced with the father of the bride, who said I looked lovely; I danced with my own father, who said he’d lost a fifty-dollar bet with my brother that I would actually keep the dress on through the reception and I smiled pretty for the endless amateur photographers who wanted just one more picture.
Finally, I’d had enough. I grabbed an open bottle of champagne from one of the tables, hiked up the miserable taffeta dress with my free hand and stalked outside before another wedding guest told me how pretty I was or another drunk guy asked for my phone number.
“Hey babe, where you running off to?”
The voice came from the shadows cast by the palatial white columns of the country club’s entrance. I saw the flicker of a cigarette, but little else. At first I thought it was one more guy attempting to score at a wedding. “Some place where taffeta gowns and lace underwear don’t exist,” I muttered, stalking past my interrogator.
“Too bad. I was working up the nerve to ask you to dance.”
The voice was deep, but not that deep. I paused mid-stride and turned. “What makes you think I’d want to dance with you?”
She stepped out of the shadows and leered at me, her tanned face bare of anything more than a glisten of perspiration from the steamy Florida heat. “Because I hear I’m your type.”
Her hair looked like she spent a lot of time running her hands through it. It was short, red and tousled like she’d just climbed out of bed. My gut reaction was instant and surprising. I was turned on by her just-fucked hair. The rest of her wasn’t so bad, either. She was tall and lean and dressed all in black – black shirt, black pants, black jacket, black shoes. The red hair above the unrelenting black was striking. It was also unmistakably a family trait because Ginny, the taffeta-happy bride, had the same colour hair, albeit longer and more fashionably styled.
“I’m Jae, Ginny’s sister.” I’d heard about Jae, the nature photographer who was currently living somewhere in the wilds of Australia. Heard of her, but in the two years my brother had been with Ginny, never met her. She was at least ten years older than me and sexy as hell in a confident, quiet way.
It figured I would be wearing taffeta when I met the dyke of my dreams.
“I just got in this afternoon, so I missed the rehearsal dinner,” she went on, taking a drag off her cigarette before flicking it away. “I’ve been waiting all night for Ginny to introduce me to her hot new sister-in-law, but she’s been a little preoccupied.”
“I guess you know I’m Beth.”
“Uh-huh.”
The silence was awkward. I was actually nervous. Picking up chicks at weddings while wearing a gown is kind of outside my area of expertise.
Voices drifted to us from just inside the country club doors. Jae grabbed my arm and pulled me behind one of the columns. I was so startled, I nearly dropped the champagne.
“What — ?”
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br /> She put her fingertips over my mouth. “Sshh. They’ll be looking for you to take more pictures.”
With that, my mouth slammed shut and I nearly took her finger off at the knuckle. Sure enough, I heard someone call my name. One of the bridesmaids, it sounded like. I snuggled up against Jae and waited for the door to open again.
“Thanks,” I murmured, suddenly aware of how close we were.
She kissed me, hard. Her breath tasted of wine and cigarettes. She slid her hands around the back of my dress as she hauled me up tight against her. She was several inches taller than me, but my heels took away some of that advantage, bringing us hip to hip. I pulled back slightly, laughing. Even through layers of taffeta, I could tell she was packing.
She gave a little tug that sent my curls tumbling in black ringlets down my back. “Let’s get out of here.”
I didn’t attempt to play coy. She knew I wanted her as soon as she kissed me. Hard to argue otherwise when I’d just had her tongue down my throat. She grabbed my hand and I hung on to her as tightly as I was hanging on to the champagne bottle. We took off around the side of the country club, running full out for the golf course. I couldn’t keep up with Jae while wearing heels, so I kicked them off and groaned as the blood rushed back into my toes. Jae just laughed and pulled me along, stumbling on the hem of my dress as we ran.
The rolling hills of the golf course were dark and silent and blissfully free of people with cameras. When we were a safe distance from the country club, we slowed to a walk. Somewhere around the ninth hole, we flopped down on the green, the pink taffeta billowing out around me like a puddle of Pepto-Bismol. I took a long drink from the champagne bottle and passed it to Jae.
“Whatcha got on under that dress?” she asked, leaning toward me on one elbow, her bottom lip glistening from the champagne. She looked predatory, like she wanted to eat me. I kind of hoped she did.
“Itchy lace underwear your sister made me wear.”
The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica Page 43