The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica

by Barbara Cardy

  But there was something very appealing about her nakedness. Maybe it was because she didn’t know I was seeing her like that. The secretiveness excited me. I’d never seen anyone outside our family without their clothes before and I have to say she looked far better out of hers than in them. She was much slimmer than I’d have thought, almost boy-like. She certainly didn’t have what my father would call “child-bearing hips”, but that was probably because she didn’t have any children. Her tummy was totally flat – even when she wasn’t lying down on her sun bed – and her breasts were small but with amazingly long, dark nipples. The first time I’d spotted her, she’d been rubbing sun cream over them and even from my far-off viewpoint, way up in the loft, I’d been fascinated by how they’d seemed to grow as she massaged the cream into her skin.

  I felt stirrings in my crotch as I waited eagerly to see what would happen next but nothing did. After about ten minutes she turned over and then she fell asleep. Grumpily, I went back to my books but I couldn’t get the image of her nipples out of my mind.

  Did I have lesbian tendencies? I asked myself. It wasn’t a question I’ve ever contemplated before. I’d had a crush on Gemma Cotton, a Year 11 girl, when I’d started at the High, but then I’d also fancied several boys, too. And I’d definitely lusted after Leonardo di Caprio in Titanic, Kate Winslet leaving me cold. However, from then on the first thing I’d do on entering my room would be to open the window to see if she was lying in the sun. I’d get quite moody if it was an overcast day.

  It didn’t occur to me that my neighbour might be a lesbian. I’d never seen her with a partner, man or woman, so it was quite a find on the Sunday before my calculus paper when I leaned out the window and saw a female friend sitting on the lawn next to the sun bed. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but they were chatting together and occasionally they’d laugh. They were drinking something alcoholic and chilled; I’d seen them emptying an ice tray into a jug of what looked as if it might be Pimms. My neighbour was semi-clad in knickers and a pair of flip-flops. Her friend was wearing a skimpy sundress.

  I knew I must revise, so I’d make myself do a page then treat myself to a glimpse at the window. It was after my third page that the calculus completely disappeared from my mind. My neighbour was lying face down on her sun bed and her friend was rubbing sun cream into her back and shoulders. She then picked up each of her feet and massaged it onto her soles and in between each toe, taking such care, as if she’d be sacked from her job if she missed a fraction of skin. Next she worked her way up the calves and thighs. I was willing her to turn my neighbour over because I really wanted to see her rubbing the cream into her tits, when something even more interesting happened.

  She pulled her knickers off and I watched her begin to stroke her bum cheeks with the lotion. And then she started kneading the cheeks quite hard by the look of it and I could see my neighbour raising her bum up and then pushing it down as if she was grinding into the cushion. I wished I could see more clearly – it looked as if her friend’s fingers were pushing between her bum crack and up into her fanny – but as I leaned as far as I dared out of the window they both got up from the bed and lawn and went indoors.

  My whole body was on fire. I pulled my dress off and stared at myself in the mirror to see if I was as flushed as I felt. What I did see was a pair of soaking wet knickers. I put my hand to the sticky material and pressed it to my mound and immediately felt a small shudder. I’d never watched myself have an orgasm before. I slipped my hand inside my soaking pants and felt for my clitoris that was fully engorged and poking through my pubic hair. It felt as big as my neighbour’s nipple and, as I rubbed it, I imagined I had her nipple in my fingers. I watched as my face contorted into a strange expression of pain and pleasure.

  From that moment onwards I knew I had to have sex with this woman and I spent every waking minute playing out various scenarios in which we would meet up and she’d seduce me. When it did actually happen it wasn’t at all as I’d planned and it began with what could only be called a disaster.

  I’d had a grotty day at college and an even grottier journey home. I’d narrowly missed my train and when I eventually caught the next one it was full of commuters. I’d had to stand all the way, sandwiched between two pinstripes who obviously hadn’t bathed for a week. I was desperate for a wee but couldn’t even begin to push my way through the packed corridor to find a vacant loo and at the station the toilets were closed for cleaning. When I got home, I couldn’t find my key and no one was there to let me in. Tears of frustration were in my eyes as I went to my neighbour’s house and rang her bell. These soon turned to real tears as she didn’t answer. Standing there, wondering what to do, I pushed my fist hard against my mound, willing myself not to wet myself.

  I could feel the pee start its first warm trickle as I took a step away from the door when she finally opened it. So there we were; our first meeting of any importance, and she was standing looking cross because she’d obviously had to hurriedly put clothes on to come in from the garden to answer the bell. And I was standing facing her on her doorstep with pee gushing all over it. There was nothing I could do to stop myself.

  Neither of us spoke till I’d finished and then I started babbling about the train and she smiled and said, “You’d better come in,” and there I was dripping onto her hall floor. She made me take my knickers off and then she saw how wet my skirt was so that came off too and then we were in her kitchen with her loading her washing machine and me standing there, thinking, this isn’t how I planned it. She got a towel and offered it to me so I could dry myself and I wanted to ask her to do it for me but, of course, I didn’t dare. She lent me a pair of her pants and a wrap-around skirt; we had a cup of tea. I heard myself saying my mum should be home by now and then I was back in my attic room, so angry with myself for messing up such a perfect opportunity.

  What I didn’t know at that point was how turned-on my neighbour had been by the whole situation and how she’d had to force herself to be the responsible adult and not throw my piss-saturated body to the floor and clean it with her tongue. That came later!

  Later – much later – she told me how she’d taken my wet knickers from her washing machine and worn them. She’d pressed the damp material against her clit and masturbated, pushing as hard as she could so that she’d filled as much of her vagina with the sodden material as possible. And at the same time I’d been in my room, rubbing myself with my still pissy fingers, totally unaware of what was happening next door.

  Two days later I plucked up the courage to go and ring on her bell again. I apologized and said I’d come to collect my clothes. She was fully dressed this time, in the boring clothes I’d seen her wear in the street. Everything seemed very normal. We drank more tea, I told her all about the subjects I was studying. She told me about her job; she worked in a law firm and then I went home – and straight up to my attic window, willing her to come into her garden. She didn’t.

  Each day, I’d come in from college and go to my window. Every day I was disappointed. It was irritatingly cloudy. I flicked from channel to channel on the TV looking at every weather station, willing heat waves.

  I was rewarded on the Thursday. The sun was out and so was my neighbour. She’d pushed the lounger against the wall and was sitting upright, reading. I was so pleased to see her that I didn’t mind whether she was clothed or unclothed. I didn’t care whether she sun-creamed herself or not. I just needed to feast my eyes on her.

  I tried to make out what she was reading but it was impossible. All I could see was the book masking her upper torso, leaving her crotch and legs revealed. She was sitting upright, cross-legged. The windowsill was digging into me but I couldn’t bear to leave what felt like my perfectly positioned theatre seat. It was worth the discomfort. As her right hand held the book, her left hand fell to her gusset. One finger moved ever so slightly outside the fabric of her pants, stroking horizontally and then vertically. There was no pattern or rhythm. I ached for
some sort of consistency but it was as if the pages she was reading jumped from erotica to the life story of the earthworm – or something as equally unerotic as that! Her hand wavered from titillating herself to gripping the book so tightly as if she feared she’d lose not only her place but also the entire storyline.

  It was only later when I’d laid on her silk sheets and described my peeping-Tom habits to her that she admitted she’d been reading a law text book whose words had whirled around her head as she’d tried to concentrate, whilst all the time she’d been thinking of me, standing on her doorstep with piss gushing through my hand-clenched knickers.

  So, there she’d been, trying to take in the legalities of business management and her mind kept jumping to me. Her fingers fondled the silky material of her bikini bottoms and I was watching avidly, my own fingers emulating hers inside my own pants. When she put her book down and stood on the lawn, letting her wee stream down her legs, my whole body ached. She weed and rocked as she came and I came, too.

  At the weekend, I was walking back from town and she was working in her front garden. She told me later she’d been there all morning looking out for me especially. “You look hot,” she said. “Come in and have a glass of orange.” Of course, I accepted her invitation without any hesitation. She then asked me out into her back garden where we sat on the lawn. I wondered if it was the patch I’d seen her wet only a couple of days earlier. I couldn’t help peeking up to my attic window to see if she’d be able to see my spy hole but it wasn’t obvious.

  We made loads of meaningless banter when really all we both wanted to do was leap on each other. Eventually, she asked if I’d mind if she took her top off as it was so hot and she loved to do nude sunbathing. She looked so anxious as if she’d hate to offend me. If only she could have read my mind, she’d have known I was begging her to do just that. “You can join me, if you like.” So I did just that.

  “Oh, you are lucky,” she said. “Your body’s so young and smooth. Mine feels so old in comparison.”

  “It looks good to me,” I said and she smiled.

  “I have to keep it well creamed,” she said. “I don’t want to shrivel into a prune if I can help it.” And I wondered if she’d used those same words to the friend I saw rubbing in the lotion when I’d seen her. I was just going to offer to rub the cream in for her when she asked me if I’d like her to put some on me.

  The only person I can remember applying sun cream to my skin was my Mum on family holidays. I’d be in a hurry to get into the sea and reluctantly squirm as she’d dab the stuff at my retreating limbs. This was absolutely nothing like that. I purposefully lay on my back because I wanted to know what it would feel like having a woman touch my breasts. She purposefully left those till last but the waiting was exquisite. Every single part of my body, bar the triangle my thong was covering, had been touched by her fingers, which felt so silky. As she rubbed my upper chest she let her fingertips move lower and lower, tantalizing me. I felt so hot I was surprised her hands and the cream weren’t sizzling. All the time she massaged my breasts she avoided the actual nipples, which by now were so erect, I thought they might ejaculate like mini penises. I was silently begging her fingers to close in on them and arched my back so that they almost touched her face. She got the message.

  As her lips gave each nipple a gentle kiss a shiver went through my entire body. She then let her tongue run over them and alternated between kisses and wet licks, leaving pauses in between so that when each touch eventually came the pleasure was heightened more and more and more until I came. It was the first time I had ever experienced an orgasm without my pussy being touched.

  Goodness knows how I ever managed to pass my exams that summer. If there’d been a paper on lesbian love I’d have got an A*. However, I managed to get good grades in the more mundane subjects of life and I’m off to university in September. Sadly, it’s at the other side of the country, so I shall only be able to see my neighbour in the holidays.

  I wonder what sort of a view I’ll have from the room in my student lodgings. It’s the first thing I’ll look at when I arrive.

  Nina, My Love

  Tamara

  I was horny the night I met Nina, and that made it easier for me to do what had to be done to interest her. Nina is one of the most desirable women I have ever known. Young, with soft round tits that are delicious to suck, and an ass that drives men and women wild.

  The party was in full swing when I first saw her. She was on the arm of a young man – good-looking if you care about that sort of thing. But the look in her eye told me that she was not really interested in him. She was still “in the closet”, and going through the motions of being straight. She had the figure for it. She reeked femininity. And the figure-hugging gown, low-cut with a slit up the thigh that showed most of her gorgeous legs, drew stares of appreciation from the men in the room.

  I wanted her as soon as I saw her. Ordinarily it would have gone no further. But I had broken up with Melissa a month before and was starved for affection. Bringing pleasure to myself, writhing and moaning under my own touch, was my only release. I needed more. And I was certain that Nina would be willing to share my bed. Don’t ask me how I knew. An instinct develops when you are gay and not able to freely express your desires, an aura that is only sensed by another of the same persuasion. I sensed it in Nina.

  I made my way across the room until I was a few feet away from her. We made eye contact after a few minutes. It was electric. She smiled at me briefly, her perfect white teeth flashing in a luscious mouth. Then she looked away. I went to the bar, looking over my shoulder at her as I walked away. Her eyes followed me.

  I ordered a glass of white wine, took a sip, and turned to lean against the bar in what I hoped was a provocative pose. I have an attractive figure, if not as lovely as Nina’s. My low-cut dress showed off my own tits which have drawn the attention of many men. I was hoping at the moment that Nina would find them desirable as well.

  I watched as she broke away from her escort and glided across the room. She came up to the bar a few feet away. The smile she had flashed earlier returned as she looked at the bartender.

  “Chardonnay,” she said in a low sultry voice that sent a stir through my loins.

  I picked up my glass and moved over next to her. She glanced at me, turned back to the bartender and took the Chardonnay from him.

  “Nice party,” I said. Not much of a pickup line, but I needed something to break the ice. Besides I knew she was interested as soon as she came to the bar. And she knew that I was interested as well, I’m certain.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Are you a friend of Bill’s? Or Mary?”

  “Both,” I said. Bill and Mary were business partners. I knew them both. They were hosting the party for their friends and employees. I was in the former category.

  “Do you work for them?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m a friend of a friend,” she said, nodding toward her escort who was engaged in conversation with a statuesque blonde and hardly aware that Nina had left.

  “Men,” I said with just enough inflection to give her the idea. The inflection wasn’t lost on her.

  She made a face. “I can take them or leave them,” she said.

  I held out my hand. “I’m Tamara,” I said.

  She took my hand in her own. “Nina.” She started to take her hand away, but I squeezed it before releasing my grip. The gesture wasn’t lost on her. I felt a slight squeeze of her hand before she took it away.

  The wine was taking effect. I felt a warm glow come over me. I leaned over and put my mouth close to Nina’s ear.

  “Excuse me. I’m going upstairs. Are you interested?”

  She searched my face with a trace of a smile on her lips. Then, turning away, she placed her hand on mine. “Give me five minutes.”

  The promise in her statement sent a wave of warmth through me, and I walked away unsteadily. The anticipation of a round of lovemaking with this desirable cre
ature made me weak.

  I found the bedroom at the head of the stairs and left the door ajar. I loosened the top buttons at the back of my dress and sat down on the bed. My heart was beating hard. I felt like I was on my first date. A little lightheaded and burning with desire.

  Nina tapped gently on the door, then entered and closed it behind her. She turned the lock, giving me a conspiratorial smile as she did so. I smiled back.

  I stood up and crossed over to her. Wordlessly I searched her beautiful face. She licked her lips and lowered her eyes in a silent invitation.

  I kissed her, lightly at first, then harder. My tongue caressed her lips and her sharp intake of breath at my touch heightened my desire. She parted her lips allowing my tongue to probe her delicious mouth, then she returned the kiss, pushing her tongue into me.

  I encircled her in my arms, and undid the clasp of her gown. Breaking our kiss, she stood back, undid the other clasps and let her gown fall away. The silky bra did little to hide her round firm breasts and the delicious pink nipples. I massaged the nipples with both hands, delighting in her almost inaudible moans of pleasure. Then I took one in my mouth and let my tongue search the nipple and the firm round mound. She let out a muffled scream and drew me to her.

  I dropped to my knees and pulled her lacy panties off. The downy patch of hair between her legs made me dizzy with delight. I leaned back to better see the pleasure spot, soft burnished hair that hid her treasure box. How many men had buried themselves in it? I wondered. And how many women like me had tasted it? I buried my face in her womanhood, delighting in the slightly pungent smell of her juices. I found her clit with my tongue and teased it.