by Anne Eton
“…that this is what we want,” Margaret whispered. “Both of us.”
Ricarda looked up at Margaret’s face in the dark, reaching a hand and interlocking fingers with her lover. Then she looked down, staring at the thatch of pubic hair in front of her face.
Closing her eyes, she moved her face into it, letting the sharp curls brush her cheeks. Margaret gasped. Ricarda slid her free hand up and parted the hair, revealing the warm wet slit. She kissed the opening before moving her head with slow licks.
Margaret’s eyelids closed. “Ricardaaaa…”
Shifting her body slightly, Ricarda flipped the tip of her tongue rapidly at the top of Margaret’s vagina. Margaret grabbed the headboard behind her, holding tight. Slowly, inexorably, Ricarda’s flipping tongue disappeared down inside the slippery opening. Ricarda moaned as she began to eat.
Moving her mouth almost entirely over Margaret’s warm wet mound, Ricarda slipped two fingers inside the tight vagina. She moved them in and out, in and out, eating, moaning, shifting her body up and down the bed in rhythm with the fingers so that Margaret’s body and big breasts rocked with her.
“Oh God,” Margaret whispered as her head moved gently up and down over the pillow with Ricarda’s thrusts. “Honey, it’s too much… it’s…”
Suddenly, Margaret shrieked a great caterwauling wail. Her body spasmed, jerking her strong hips up and twisting as her back arched. Ricarda hung on, eating her harder. Margaret’s hand clenched and unclenched Ricarda’s as her other hand’s fingernails scrabbled wildly on the silk comforter.
At length, Margaret’s body collapsed. Ricarda broke off, looking up. A long pause followed.
“I never… ever, felt anything like that,” Margaret finally said to the ceiling.
“I guessed,” Ricarda answered. She laughed softly, planting a kiss between Margaret’s legs. Margaret jumped with new sensitivity.
“I’m afraid I need more,” Ricarda added. She sighed.
“What?” Margaret tilted her chin, looking down at her.
“I need more. I’ve been waiting too long for you; I can’t stop right now.” Ricarda looked at Margaret’s wet bush, rubbing it tenderly. “I’ll go slow and gentle, for the moment. But I need more. I need it. I’m sorry.” Without further ado, Ricarda lowered her face again, moving her lips around Margaret’s mons venus with the lightest of kisses.
Margaret’s jaw dropped. Her head slowly lowered back onto the pillow as her eyes grew wider and wider.
Ricarda made her come over and over, in waves, for what seemed like hours. Margaret screamed; she cried; her pillow grew damp with tears.
Suddenly, the hotel phone on the bedside table rang.
The women both froze. They shifted uncertainly, looking at each other. The phone kept ringing.
Margaret freed herself from Ricarda’s clutches and pulled her body over to the telephone. She picked up the receiver and said, “Hello?” Then she whispered a short conversation.
“What is it?” Ricarda asked as Margaret hung up and crawled back to her.
Margaret was giggling. “Oh. God. You won’t believe it.”
“What? What!”
“The neighbors.” Margaret held a hand over her face, trying to laugh quietly. Her face was red. She looked like a schoolgirl. Pointing at the headboard’s wall, she continued: “The neighbors called the front desk. To complain about the noise.”
Ricarda gaped. Then she started laughing too.
“They have small children,” Margaret gasped.
Ricarda screamed, then buried her head in a pillow to muffle it.
“And the old guy at the front desk was so apologetic,” Margaret continued, collapsing in hysterics. “Saying, ‘I am so sorry, madam. I am so sorry…’”
The lovers laughed for a long time, holding hands in the dark. Ricarda smiled. “I guess that was my fault.”
Margaret sighed, looking at Ricarda’s hand. “We have to be quiet.”
“Yes.”
They stared into each other’s eyes, smiling with a new and profound intimacy. “I’m so glad you said yes. To this,” Ricarda finally said.
“It’s not over yet,” Margaret said.
“I know. I just mean…”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Yeah.”
They kissed, a long lingering touch of the lips.
“I want to try that,” Margaret whispered. “What you did.”
“Okay.”
“Will you show me? I mean…”
“Sure.”
“I just like… You know when you told me to take off my shoes and get on the bed?”
“Yeah?”
“You had me. Right there. That turned me on, like you wouldn’t believe.” Margaret looked down. “I have to be strong and commanding and confident. In my job, in my life. But in bed… I think I like the other person being the boss. It’s a nice break.” She looked up again. “Will you just show me, and tell me, what to do? I want to be…”
“Submissive?”
Margaret hesitated. “Maybe. Yeah, I guess so. I never thought of myself that way. But in bed, I think that’s right.”
“Okay.” Ricarda smiled. She turned around and settled, sitting up against the pillows.
Margaret kneeled on the comforter, her ankles tucked under her butt. She placed her hands on her knees, watching Ricarda. Her silhouette made a perfect hourglass form in the dark.
Ricarda lifted a knee, moving her legs apart. “Come here and make out with me.”
Margaret smiled. She crawled to Ricarda, moving up between the blonde woman’s legs. Ricarda cupped Margaret’s big breast, rubbing the nipple with her thumb. They kissed. Ricarda slipped her other hand low, rubbing Margaret’s mound.
“Make out time,” Ricarda whispered. They did.
Margaret held her body up with her elbows locked on either side of Ricarda. As they French-kissed, Margaret’s breathing grew heavy. “I thought I was the one supposed to be pleasuring you,” she whispered, writhing as Ricarda’s expert fingers between her legs created a warm wet slipperiness.
“Shhhh,” Margaret said. “Do what I say. Remember?”
Margaret giggled and nodded. She kissed Ricarda with passion.
After some minutes, Ricarda broke off. “Time to move lower,” she said. She made a little gesture for Margaret to slip down.
Ricarda flexed her arms. She shifted her body down, inch by inch. Finally, she stretched out on her stomach, gazing at Ricarda’s blonde bush tilted up at her like a demand.
“Just do what I say and it’ll be fine,” Ricarda said. She reached down from her propped-up position and brushed Margaret’s hair so that she could watch her face. “Ready?”
Margaret nodded.
“Kiss.”
Margaret betrayed a moment of hesitation, staring at the soft blonde curls. Then she slid her body forward. Closing her eyes, she planted the most gentle of kisses on the golden hair.
“Again,” Ricarda whispered.
Margaret obeyed, letting her lips stay longer this time.
“We really shouldn’t rush this,” Ricarda said softly. “But I can’t wait.” She reached down and placed her index and middle finger on each side of her vagina, spreading her lips. She pulled up slightly. Her clitoris, red and swollen, popped out.
“You see that?” Ricarda asked.
“Yes,” Margaret whispered.
“Put your mouth over it, and suck as gently as possible.”
Margaret hesitated again. Then, with agonizing slowness, she moved her lips over the angry little organ. She looked up at Ricarda.
“That’s right,” Ricarda whispered in the dark. “Now use your tongue. Flick it, just a little… Keep sucking. Just a little harder. That’s good.”
Margaret closed her eyes. Her mouth moved ever so slightly over Ricarda’s clitoris as she obeyed. Ricarda watched her; she licked her lips.
“Moan if you like it,” Ricarda said.
Margaret moaned.
“Moan if you want us to do this in your own bed.”
Margaret moaned louder.
Ricarda brushed the hair from Margaret’s face again, watching her. “I like being in charge, Margaret,” she breathed. “I always have. I didn’t want to push it with you, tonight. I didn’t want to get into that so early… But this is how it’s going to be, with you and me.
Margaret moaned again.
“You can be in charge of everything else, but when we’re in bed… I will always be the boss. And that’s how we both want it. We were meant to be together, Margaret. It’s going to be you and me. From now on.”
Margaret emitted a guttural sound. She sucked harder, moving her face.
“It’s you and me,” Ricarda said as if in a dream. She closed her eyes. “From now on…”
Ricarda gasped a small cry as she came, cupping Margaret’s head and grinding her hips in a slow burlesque beat. Margaret made an emotional sound as she realized she was bringing Ricarda to climax.
When it was over, they cuddled and stared into each other’s eyes. There were details to discuss. Ricarda’s flight routes would have to be changed to the Washington D.C. hub, and that might take a little time. Margaret didn’t know if she could fit all of Ricarda’s furniture into her apartment. But they were ready—embarking upon their flight, together.
The End
Big-Boobed Beth
Beth Collins stood among the other teenagers in their corner of the tidy park that was a selling point of their safe suburban neighborhood. Their bikes were lying helter-skelter on the grass and against trees. As always, Beth stood slightly outside the circle of her peers, part of the group and yet apart from it. She was a tall girl, 5 feet 10, with broad shoulders and thick legs and a stomach rendered flat by endless drills on the high school volleyball team. But her defining feature was her big, firm breasts. They drew attention, the stop-traffic kind of attention. If she had been beautiful, this would not have been such a deficit; however, Beth was cursed not only with an enormous chest but also a plain face, a “horsey” face as her aunt Margaret had once remarked when she thought Beth was out of earshot. Beth’s long blonde hair could not make up for her not possessing what really counted among girls at Williamstown High School: cute cheerleader looks and a petite frame.
Beth would walk the school’s corridors with her head down, eyes on the floor, so that she would not notice when boys would stop talking and stare at her. Even when she tried to block everything out, she would still sometimes hear her nickname being whispered in the hall: “Big-boobed Beth.” When she had first entered high school as a freshman, she had been flattered when so many boys had talked to her. Soon, however, she realized that the boys were only speaking to her when they were alone with her. During her first week, when she had walked up to Billy Miller among his friends and said, “Hey! Nice meeting you yesterday,” Billy had ignored her. Later that day, Billy had approached her again (when they were alone, of course) and asked that she not speak to him when other people were around. “I kind of have a reputation to uphold,” he had told her. Speechless, Beth listened to him ask if she wanted to do webcam or video phone chat some time. He had winked and leered at her chest. The conversations from other boys had been pretty much the same. They found her sexually desirable, but socially untouchable.
Beth had tried to focus on her schoolwork and sports, always flashing a quick, eager-to-please smile whenever one of the girls mentioned a party or gathering. She liked being around people, and she thought she was a nice person. But the combination of her big breasts, her horsey face, and her cruel nickname had rendered her at best an outlier in the Williamstown High School social scene.
On this beautiful summer day, Beth listened to her peers chat about teachers, parties, college (maybe-going for some, maybe-not for others), and the never-ending gossip that always swirled around any social gathering. Beth hung back, trying to be invisible. She had learned long ago not to say anything and risk drawing attention to herself. She had found that the other teens tolerated her presence, as long as she kept quiet. When she asked questions or talked, the eyes of her peers in the group inevitably drifted from her face down to her chest. And then the grinning and snickering would begin. Beth could have stayed away completely, of course. She could have become a hermit. But she liked people; and at any rate, she hoped that as long as she was hanging around, her peers at least would not be gossiping about HER.
Suddenly, the conversation stopped. All heads turned toward an approaching figure. The girl was their age, slightly built, with long jet-black hair that sported a purple streak. She wore a black T-shirt with the name of an obscure band on the front, black leggings, and black boots. Sunglasses hid her eyes.
“Who’s that?” asked one boy.
“Find out soon enough,” a girl said. “She’s heading straight for us.”
“Is a goth convention in town?” asked Jimmy Flannavale, the school idiot who thought he was the school comic.
The girl in black stopped in front of them. Her head turned as she looked them over.
After an unbearable silence, Rick Fixler, the group’s alpha male, stepped forward. “Hey.”
“Hey.” The girl in black removed her sunglasses. Her eyes were green.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She glanced at the group. “Am I crashing?”
“Huh?”
“Crashing. Crashing a party.” The girl stretched, completely at ease. “Don’t mean to intrude. Just wondering if anyone had some weed.”
Rick looked around. “I don’t think so.”
“I wish I did,” said Bobby Searle, a happy-go-lucky varsity linebacker. Everybody laughed.
The girl in black smiled. “If I get some, I’ll let you know.”
Searle grinned. “Hey everybody, meet my new best friend.”
The girl said she had just arrived from out of town. She had lived overseas most of her life, but was finally back in the United States for good. She would also be attending Williamstown High as a senior in the fall. Her name was Katie.
Beth watched as Katie merged seamlessly into the group. She’s known them for two minutes and she’s already one of them, Beth thought. She wondered how it could be that she herself, who had tried so hard for so long, was denied admittance while Katie was offered it on the spot. The answer was obvious: Katie was cool. She had a perfect comeback for every kid who made a comment or asked a question, testing her. The source of Katie’s power was clear—she really did not care if the group liked her or not. Her attitude and body language indicated that she thought she was cooler than they; and the assessment was correct. Everybody knew it. They needed her more than she needed them.
Suddenly, Katie turned. “And who are you?” She was staring straight at Beth.
Beth looked at the grass, too shy to answer. “That’s… Beth,” she heard someone say. That’s Big-boobed Beth, was the unspoken answer on everyone’s lips.
The silence lingered. When Beth finally looked up, she saw Katie smiling. “Hey Beth,” Katie said. She extended her hand. Beth shook it. Katie had not shaken hands with anyone else.
“Beth’s on the volleyball team,” piped up Marjorie Weathers, a maddeningly annoying Pollyanna who under normal circumstances would not have acknowledged Beth even if it had meant nuclear holocaust.
All eyes turned to Katie. Katie nodded. Here it comes, Beth thought. The put-down…
“I always wanted to play volleyball,” Katie said. “I was never good enough.” She looked at Beth and grinned.
Beth exhaled, and smiled back. Somebody actually patted her on the back. The conversation turned into a kind of jockeying among the girls to be Katie’s friend, and jockeying among the guys to be Katie’s “friend.” Beth stayed quiet and hung back, as usual.
The next day, Beth saw that she had an email from Facebook. Katie had sent her a friend request.
Logging on to Facebook, Beth read a message Katie had included with the friend request. Hey Beth! So,
you would not believe how many Beths there are in this town, but I think I finally found you. Later!
Beth stared at her monitor. She was amazed that Katie wanted to be her friend. Beth had few friends. And it seemed that Katie had gone to some trouble searching for her. After a long pause, Beth typed: Hi Katie! I’m sorry that finding me was such a hassle! Yeah, you definitely found me! Beth clicked “accept” next to Katie’s friendship request and sent the message.
Over the next few days, Katie and Beth exchanged many emails. Katie said she was still settling in. It’s kind of a weird town, she wrote. There’s not much to do. Am I missing anything?
No, you’re right, Beth wrote back. There isn’t much. It’s summer right now, so sometimes people go to the beach. It’s not too far away. Beth was flattered by Katie’s attention, but also puzzled. Katie could hang out with anyone she wanted. Why did she like Beth? Beth decided she didn’t care. Katie seemed smart, and nice. She was way too cool to hang with Beth, it was true. But as long as Katie didn’t care, then Beth didn’t either.
Soon, Katie sent Beth a short message: give me your digits. Beth did. Katie called immediately.
“Beth! What’s up, girl?”
“Not much!” Beth replied, trying to match Katie’s pep. “What’s up with you?”
“I heard about a house party tonight. Some guy called Patrick. Do you know him?”
Beth’s forehead wrinkled as she tried to concentrate. This was her first conversation with Katie, and she didn’t want to mess up. “Patrick Groom?”
“Yeah.”
“I hear he’s got a really big house. He throws a lot of parties.”
“Want to go?”
Beth paused. “Well, I mean, I haven’t been invited—”
“Well, I have. I think that means if I want to bring you, it’s cool.”
Beth felt her face flush with pleasure. No one had ever invited her to a house party before, particularly not a party like Patrick Groom’s. He was rare air. He moved with the most popular crowd in school.
Beth nodded. “Okay. Yeah! Um, I have to check with my mom, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She gave Katie her address. Katie would pick her up—Katie had her own car.