The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica

by Barbara Cardy

  “Poor little baby dyke.” She made a tsking sound as she took another hit from the bottle and put it down beside us.

  “Who you calling a baby?”

  She was quick. She rolled me over onto my back in one swift move and pinned my arms above my head. “You, baby.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, my voice sounding as shaky as I felt.

  She kissed me again, sucking my bottom lip between her teeth and nipping it until I moaned. The rustle of my dress was the only noise for the next several minutes as she kissed me breathless. When we finally came up for air, we were both laughing. A bird sent up a startled cry of response from a stand of trees nearby and I giggled again, lightheaded from the champagne and lust.

  Jae licked her bottom lip as if still tasting my mouth. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

  I hadn’t even known the legendary Jae was in town, but she’d been watching me all night. It made me grin like a fool. “If I’d known I had that to look forward to, I might have actually smiled for some of the wedding pictures.”

  “Well, if that makes you smile . . .” she said, letting the words trail off as she found the hem of my dress and slid her hand up the inside of my thigh.

  I spread my legs for her, but she took her sweet time getting where I wanted her to be. She stroked my thighs softly while she kissed and sucked on my neck. I fumbled under her jacket and found her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. She was slim and small-breasted, but her nipples pebbled like diamonds under my fingers. I tugged them through her shirt and she bit down hard on my neck.

  The dress was cut low and it didn’t take much wiggling on my part for the neckline to slip even lower, baring my lace-covered breasts. She buried her face between my tits, nuzzling them through the itchy fabric until I reached up and tugged the cups of the bra away from me. She moaned softly as she licked my skin, sucking on the sensitive undersides of my breasts. She toyed with the lace waistband of my panties while she licked and nibbled her way across my chest.

  “I’m going to die here if you don’t touch me,” I gasped when I couldn’t stand her teasing any longer.

  Her laughter was muffled against my chest but she didn’t refuse me. She stroked down my stomach and then lower, running her fingers over my panty-covered mound. When she found the crotch of my panties wet and clinging to me, she whisked them away and tossed them on the grass beside the champagne bottle. By now, my dress was up around my waist and the cool grass was tickling me intimately, but I wasn’t complaining.

  Jae pulled away from me and I made a little whimper of protest, but she didn’t go far. She knelt between my legs and stripped off her jacket, then rolled up the sleeves of her shirt as if she intended to go to work on me. I shivered as she used her thumbs to hold me open. She looked at my cunt like she was starving for a good meal.

  “Baby, you’re almost as pink inside as that damned dress.”

  I couldn’t have given her a smart-assed retort if I wanted to, because at that moment she leaned forward and sucked my clit into her mouth just as hard as she’d sucked my bottom lip a few moments before. I let out a whimper, clamping my thighs around her head and burrowing my fingers in her short, silky hair.

  She nursed on my clit, alternately lapping and nibbling at it until I was writhing beneath her. I felt her shift, her hands sliding away from my hips. I raised myself up on my elbows and watched her fumble with her pants. She dragged them down her thighs until I could see what she was packing. The dildo was tucked inside a pouch and she pulled it free.

  “Want my dick, baby dyke?” she whispered, stretching out on top of me, one hand braced against the ground, the other guiding the dildo between my spread thighs.

  “I want whatever you’ll give me.”

  She drove it into me, deep and hard, and I screamed with the suddenness of it. Keeping up that hard, fast rhythm, she pressed her wet cunt against my thigh and moved with me. I clutched at her back, moaning as she fucked me, sending a couple more birds into frenzied flight.

  “Keep your voice down or the police will be out here.”

  I yanked at her shirt until a button popped. I pulled it away from her body and bit down on her shoulder to keep from screaming again. I could feel her muscles tense and flex as she rode my thigh and fucked me with the dildo. She slid higher on my body, until her tits were in my face. I pulled one of her hard, rubbery nipples into my mouth and sucked it, feeling her grind even harder against my thigh.

  “Oh, God, you’re driving me crazy,” I gasped as she dragged the dildo out of my cunt and thrust it back in. “You’re gonna make me come on your big dick.”

  “That’s the idea, baby.”

  I was incoherent after that. She fucked me hard and steady, and we were sliding across the grass, propelled by the slippery taffeta of my dress. I had visions of us splashing into a water hazard, but she drove that thought from my mind as she pummeled my throbbing cunt.

  I sucked hard on her nipples until she was humping my thigh so hard I knew I would have a bruise in the morning. Despite her warning me to be quiet, her own moans wafted across the still golf course.

  “Fuck me,” I begged, every inch of my body straining for release. “Please.”

  She angled the dildo up high and hard and that was all it took. My body convulsed around the thickness of the dick inside me and I wrapped my arms and legs around her as if I would never let her go. She fucked me steadily, riding out my orgasm while I clung to her and panted her name.

  I managed to roll her over as my orgasm faded to a gentle pulse. I was so weak I couldn’t do much more for a few minutes than lie on top of her and kiss her. She was still moving against my thigh, leaving a trail of wetness on my skin.

  I finished unbuttoning her shirt and kissed my way down her chest and across her stomach. Her cunt smelled like heaven, musky and sweet with arousal. I gave a quick swipe up the length of her slit and felt her jump. Sluggish from coming so hard, I settled between her legs, my dress still hiked up to my waist and the humid night air blowing a tepid breeze across my fevered cunt.

  I nuzzled her damp thighs, wanting to take my time with her and knowing once I started I wouldn’t be able to slow myself down.

  “Eat me, baby,” she growled, her hands reaching for my decimated curls. She gave a sharp tug and it was all the encouragement I needed. I buried my face between her thighs and feasted on her like an over-ripe fruit, reveling in the feel of her wetness on my cheeks and chin.

  I sucked her clit between my lips and was rewarded with a soft, plaintive cry. I slid two fingers into her wet, clutching cunt and continued to suck her clit as it pulsed like a wild thing against my lips. She was so hot and ready, it didn’t take long. A few more hard licks and she was coming in my mouth. I kept the flat of my tongue on her clit, feeling every ripple of her body as she alternately clutched at my hair and pressing at my shoulders.

  Finally, I let her push me away. She pulled me up her body and I heard the distinct sound of fabric rending as my knee caught in the taffeta.

  “Oh, shit,” she muttered against my neck. I was draped across her body, too exhausted to move. “I think I ripped your dress.”

  “That’s okay. It should go nicely with the grass stains.”

  “Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry, she sounded like she was trying not to laugh.

  “Please. I don’t care if we torch the dress, just let me get out of it first,” I said, groaning for an entirely different reason than the soreness in my well-used cunt. “On second thought, I might want to keep it as a souvenir.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  I suddenly had a thought. “You’re the sister of the bride. So how the hell did you get spared the torture of being in the wedding party?”

  Jae gave a little tug on my hair that was now spread across her bare tits like a shawl. “Don’t ask.”

  “I’m serious. I want to know.”

  She chuckled softly, twirling a curl around her finger. “It�
�s simple, baby dyke. I fucking hate taffeta.”

  Wuthering

  L. S. Bell

  “You’re my servant, Nelly,” Catherine ejaculated. “So get down on your knees and serve me.”

  Nelly glanced across at her mistress, not sure how to take the command. She carefully studied the woman’s face, trying to discern some clue from her severe expression. The mane of unruly dark locks that framed Catherine’s cheeks, and the solemn set of her large dark eyes, gave away nothing about her inner demeanour. Her lips, full, ripe and inviting, were set in a line that made her emotions inscrutable.

  “Do you want a cup of tea?” Nelly asked.

  “On your knees,” Catherine said again. “Make me repeat the instruction and I’ll be forced to use my horsewhip. Then you’ll be sorry.” To show the threat was not idle, she raised the leather shaft of the horsewhip and patted it lightly against her hand. The flicker of a cruel smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

  Obediently, but not obligingly, Nelly lowered herself to her knees.

  It was clearly apparent that Catherine did not want a cup of tea.

  It had been a strange couple of weeks at Thrushcross Grange. Nelly had found herself displaced from her former habitat at Wuthering Heights to reside with her newly married mistress amongst the hospitality of the Linton family. She had not thought the marriage between Catherine and Edgar was an appropriate match but, being a good servant and aware of her place in the order of things, she had kept her opinions confined to scurrilous gossip with other members of the house’s staff. Yet, if she had been urged to guess fifty times a day for fifty years or more, she would never have imagined an instruction like this issuing from her mistress’s lips.

  “Stay down on your knees,” Catherine said softly, “and crawl closer.”

  Nelly traced a pink tongue against her arid lips.

  Catherine’s smile blossomed with deviant delight. She settled herself on the side of her bed, pushing aside the curtains from the posts so she was framed by lace. Unladylike, she sat with her legs parted and her hands on her knees. Nelly had often enough seen her mistress go riding and knew the young woman was wont to straddle a horse in such a masculine and unbecoming manner, rather than opting for the more delicate and refined pose of side-saddle. The sight had previously stirred a rush of unfathomable desires in Nelly’s loins. Warmth, moisture and general neediness had all risen in her gut like the onset of a pleasant fever. She didn’t know why her mistress’s posture should affect her in such a strong fashion but there had never been any denying the heat it always inflamed. This evening her mistress’s pose continued to fan the embers of that same smouldering need and Nelly felt sick as she was consumed with sudden desire.

  “Closer,” Catherine encouraged. “How do you expect to kiss me from so far away?”

  Nelly swallowed.

  “Kiss you, mistress?” Again, she licked her lips. But this time, they did not need the extra moisture. As the agony of her lust grew stronger Nelly realized she was salivating like a hungry cur. Padding across the floor in the manner of Catherine’s pet bitch, she crept closer and closer to the divine scent of her mistress’s nearness.

  Beyond the room the sounds of the house’s industry whispered in perpetual clatter. The kitchens beneath them sang with the shrill cries of kettles and pot skittering together. Isabella, Catherine’s new sister-in-law, could be heard practising her finger work on the parlour’s virginal. Edgar was undoubtedly ensconced in his library and as silent as the breathless wind that swept across the brooding moors and down from Wuthering Heights.

  But Nelly’s attention was focused on her mistress. Her eyes grew large as she understood what was happening. Her heart beat faster as she realized she was on the verge of attaining a lifelong ambition. She tried to swallow and discovered her throat was choked with nervous anticipation.

  Catherine was slowly drawing up the hem of her skirts. The pale blue silk was worn over layers of crisp, white taffeta. Nelly could see the hem of the undergarments brushing against her mistress’s boots. As the skirts were raised Nelly was treated to a glimpse of the boot top and then the mesmerizing vision of Catherine’s bare calf.

  “Mistress,” she gasped.

  “Closer,” Catherine insisted. “And let’s have less talk from you, shall we? I have other uses for your tongue and none of them involve you chattering.” Clearly pleased with the remark, she released a salacious chuckle. Absently, she put the horsewhip by her side and pulled her skirt higher to reveal unclothed knees.

  Nelly trembled before finding the strength to move forward. If she had been given a moment to collect her thoughts she would have pinched herself, to be sure this was the reality of Thrushcross Grange and not the product of her overactive desires and imagination. Knowing her mistress would not tolerate any further displays of hesitation, aware that she was needed with an urgency driven by understandable arousal, Nelly continued to creep closer across the bedroom floor.

  Catherine inched the skirts higher. Her bare knees were completely exposed. Her thighs, as white as the moors in the depth of winter, were sinfully exciting. As Catherine shifted forward from the bed, pulling her skirts up to her waist, Nelly saw the thatch of thick dark curls covering her mistress’s cleft. Not knowing whether to be more shocked by the display, or Catherine’s lack of underwear, she resolved to move closer.

  The tingling between her own thighs had turned to a clenching, animal need. The sight of Catherine’s most intimate secrets inspired a yearning she had long tried to deny. But now, knowing the moment she had quietly coveted was almost upon her, she endeavoured to cross the final few feet of the room and do everything she was bidden.

  “Hurry up, Nelly,” Catherine insisted.

  She parted her legs.

  Rested back a little.

  And reached for the horsewhip.

  From her perspective at thigh-level Nelly had the clearest possible glimpse of Catherine’s sex. Peeping from between the lush, dark curls were a pair of pink lips that looked flushed and ruddy with excitement. Nelly didn’t know if it was an aspect of the light in the Thrushcross Grange bedrooms, or something peculiar to Catherine’s mood. But she felt sure she could see a silvery glint of wetness coating the split of the woman’s sex.

  “You want me to kiss you, mistress?” Nelly breathed. She was close enough to touch Catherine now: if she had dared. She raised one hand, intending to place it on the woman’s bare thigh while she brought her lips up to meet Catherine’s face. Anxiety tightened knots inside her stomach. Her bowels clenched with the nervousness of not knowing if she was doing exactly as her superior wanted. Moving her mouth nearer to Catherine’s jaw, marvelling at the all-consuming beauty of the woman, she asked again, “Do you really want me to kiss you?”

  “Not on the mouth,” Catherine snapped, pushing her down to the floor.

  Nelly realized she had been forced to the same level as Catherine’s parted thighs. The intoxicating scent of the woman’s sex flooded her nostrils. The richness of the fragrance, a gamey perfume that suggested Catherine’s arousal had been broiling for an age, struck Nelly like a slap across the face. She drank deeply on the intimate bouquet and tried to understand exactly what was required.

  “You want me to kiss you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But not on the mouth?”

  Catherine groaned with impatience. Grabbing a fistful of Nelly’s hair, pulling hard until she prompted a screech of pain, Catherine said, “Damn it, Nelly. Stop being such a tease. You know we both want this. You know we’ve both wanted this for a long time. Stop asking dumb questions and just fucking do it.”

  Nelly had no chance to respond.

  Catherine had forced her face against the musky folds of flesh that protruded from the thatch of her pubic curls. The dewy split of her sex kissed at Nelly’s face. The moment her mouth touched the sweet wine of Catherine’s wetness, Nelly understood exactly what was wanted from her. She pushed her tongue through the gaping lips and savou
red the warm, cloying flavour of her mistress’s moisture.

  “Fuck, yes,” Catherine gasped.

  Nelly wanted to pull away, and berate the young mistress from such a coarse turn of phrase. Such language and vulgarities were the fare of labourers and farm hands. Hearing profanities from her mistress’s sweet and kissable lips was shocking to the point of blasphemy. But, instead of upbraiding Catherine for her expletives, Nelly could only do as her mistress insisted and devour the warm, wet flesh. She stroked her tongue against the musky folds of skin, savouring the tang of their saltiness, and then plunged it deep between them. Alternating between the tenderest of kisses and the most intrusive thrusts of her tongue, she was rewarded for her efforts by Catherine’s mounting sighs of pleasure.

  “Dearest Nelly,” Catherine exclaimed. “Why on earth have you never done this for me before?”

  Nelly moved her mouth to the apex of Catherine’s hole. The thrust of a small nub of flesh pushed out at her, pulsing gently and glistening like a pearl in the bedroom’s candlelight. Enchanted, Nelly watched it for an instant, sure she was on the verge of making another great discovery. She was already sweated with the strong desire that serving her mistress had awoken, and felt sure she would need to do something to exorcize the righteous arousal that now consumed her loins. But the sight of the throbbing bead of flesh inspired a hungry rush that was more animal than anything she had yet known. Daringly, she flicked her tongue against the pulse.

  Catherine groaned.

  She collapsed back on the bed, stuffing a fist into her mouth to conceal the ecstatic cry. Staring rigidly at the bed’s lacy canopy she finally moved her hand. A beatific smile split her full, sensuous lips.

  “Oh! Nelly,” she murmured. “You can do that all night long.”

  Not sure if that was another instruction, or simply Catherine’s way of urging her to continue, Nelly slid her tongue against the swollen flesh for a second time. She lapped until it grew to double its size. She moved closer, placing her hand on Catherine’s thighs and marvelling at the lean, powerful musculature beneath the pale skin. Away from her sex there was still something about the perfection of Catherine’s body that made Nelly believe she was in the presence of a divine creature. She had never known any creature – man or woman – able to awaken such profound desires in her body. Drinking Catherine’s wetness, and basking in the warmth of the woman’s satisfied groans, she wondered if she had finally found her true vocation as a servant at Thrushcross Grange.