Best Lesbian Erotica 2010

by Kathleen Warnock

  The memory of the way she had thrust her hips with such fluidity, such natural skill, was making me dizzy and too wet for comfort. Her move was quick and she was on me like lightning. With my back against the wall, she kissed me again. I wanted her like I’d never wanted anyone, but now with the prospect of actual sex with her looming, I got nervous. What was making me nervous? Sex with a stranger? My reputation? Really, it was about my own skills. Lanie and I had been together so long that we had come to know each other perfectly. No worries about what the other liked and whether “it” was right. This person was new and unknown territory. Would I be good enough?

  I tensed up and Spike pulled away. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “No, I…um…” I had no words. None that wouldn’t make me sound like a complete asshole. So, I took the self-deprecating route. “I just was wondering…why me? You could have anyone out there.”

  Her left hand rested on the wall next to my head. “I saw you when I was dancing. You’re beautiful. And hot.” The words stunned me and I could only stare back into the hazel eyes that were making me squirm. Her other hand went up to the wall and I was enclosed inside her arms. Slowly, she leaned in to kiss me and I was floating in a pool of flames. Running my hand through her hair made her moan and it shifted her into high gear. Her arms wrapped around me, her tongue probed me, and her legs moved me to the cot.

  She laid me down with such smoothness, I couldn’t help but smile. My blouse came unbuttoned and my pants were off in seconds. Her fingers dove between my legs and Spike groaned when she felt my wetness. Two fingers slipped inside me and I was in ecstasy as I felt them slide in and out.

  Wasting no time, she pulled the dildo from her pants and began fucking me with it, slowly at first, then fast and hard until my head was in danger of smashing into the plaster wall. I tried slipping my hand down her pants but she pushed it away. What was it with these butches? Let me touch you, goddammit!

  As she plunged in and out of me, I began undressing her. Spike was in a trancelike state, so immersed in her mission, I don’t think she even realized what I was doing. Her shirt and bra were off and I ran my hands over the vivid tattoos. She moved off me then, slipping the double-headed dildo out of the harness and leaving it inside me. Like a panther, she moved stealthily down my body and began licking me. Watching her head bob between my thighs, I was lost in a place I’d never visited before.

  The long, rubber cock started sliding in and out again. The sensation of being fucked and eaten simultaneously took me completely out of my body and I became some raw, primal animal. I came long and hard, practically ripping Spike’s hair out of her head.

  It was time to flip my butch over, which was surprisingly easy, considering her well-defined, muscular body. As I struggled to get her pants over her boots, I almost yanked her right off the bed. But I finally managed to rip them off. A small look of surprise crossed her face but quickly disappeared when I began sucking on a nipple. To my own surprise, I deftly slipped off her briefs and unhooked her harness, the business end of which was shiny with wetness.

  Spike’s breathing quickened and she seemed taken aback by my intensity. But she didn’t understand—she’d been working me up, pushing me to the pinnacle of lust since the moment she’d walked out on that stage in that dashing uniform. Even though I’d already had an orgasm, I still wasn’t satisfied and wouldn’t be until I heard a cry of pleasure from her lips.

  I slipped two fingers inside her and she didn’t resist like I expected her to. Her eyes did flash me a warning though: be careful.

  Had I been in my right mind, I would’ve heeded it. But I was in such a frenzy that I lost all control over my own actions. I reached down between my legs and pulled out the cock that still hung from my pussy, and in one swift movement, I slid it inside her. A look of shock in her eyes subsided as I thrust it, slowly, deliberately. I bent my head down and started licking her swollen clit. Any objections she was going to make evaporated as she melted into my caresses.

  The tremors under my tongue told me she was about to come. I didn’t want to lose my grip on her so I curled one arm under her leg to hold her in place while I kept fucking her. Bucking ferociously, she gripped my shoulders, and the cry I’d longed to hear escaped her flushed red lips. When her shuddering had stopped, I pulled the dildo out, placed it at the foot of the bed, and crawled up beside her. Spike sighed.

  “Damn,” she said. “Are you really a butch in femme’s clothing?”

  “Uh-uh,” I chuckled. “I just know what I like.”

  At the bar, Tamara stared at me, dumbfounded. I’d been gone a good two hours and it was nearly four A.M. The others had all gone home.

  “What the hell have you been doing?” Tamara asked, patting down my bed-tousled hair. She wasn’t really looking for an answer, so I just smiled and said, “Getting my groove back.”

  Tamara grinned. “Glad to hear it.”

  “This was a great birthday. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.”

  No, mine.

  Looking back at the darkened stage, I said, “I think I’ll see the show again some time.” I took the beer Tamara handed me and saluted the stage with it. The Marines would come again.

  TASTING CHANTAL

  D. L. King

  A small cluster of smokers milled around outside the entrance to the club. Up and down the bar-lined street Neela noted the same phenomenon. The only difference was that absolutely everyone outside the Whip Handle wore black, whereas, while black seemed to be the predominant tone, other doorways also boasted a few girls in colorful spring dresses and boys in stone-washed denim and pastel shirts as well. The Whip Handle was like a sucking black hole after dark. It had rained earlier, making the sucking black hole shiny tonight.

  Neela, of course, was no exception; after all, you don’t go to a fetish club wearing a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. She wore a black rubber pencil skirt, black seamed stockings, black stiletto pumps with chrome heels and a black silk corset. If she’d draped a black veil over her head, she might have completely disappeared into total stealth mode. But she wasn’t trying to disappear. To attract the kind of boys she was looking for, one had to be visible. Visible and scary.

  “Neela!”

  Passing through the small crowd, she turned and saw Kat. Smiling, she gave Kat a hug and kiss.

  “I wouldn’t have expected to see you here tonight, Neela,” Kat said.

  “Why not? Just because Sam left doesn’t mean I’m dead. No, definitely not dead. I feel like playing so I dressed to impress. Impressive, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Later,” Neela called over her shoulder as she swept through the door.

  As usual, the place was dark and fairly crowded. She made her way to the bar and ordered a tonic with lime. Looking around, she noticed a few people she’d seen before but didn’t really know. Oddly, almost all the people in the immediate vicinity were women. She saw a boy down at the other end of the bar, but he was obviously with the woman next to him.

  Taking her drink, she made her way to one of the chambers off the main room, put down her toy bag and made herself comfortable in one of the leather club chairs. A naked girl chained to the wall was being flogged by a large woman in black leather. Neela admired the woman’s technique, and even in the dim light she could see red stripes on the girl’s back and buttocks. After a few minutes she felt a slight pressure on the toe of her shoe. She raised her foot to bring the kneeling figure’s head up, but the girl’s eyes remained lowered.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. This girl would like, um, this girl wonders if Ma’am would like, if Ma’am would be interested in… Um, this girl wishes to offer herself to Ma’am for use in any way she might see fit, ah, if she might wish to play with this girl, um—Ma’am.

  The girl wore a short plaid schoolgirl skirt but was topless. She had very small breasts with petite pink nipples, almost boylike. The waistband of the skirt sat low on h
er hips, exposing her navel and the curve of her waist as well as the slightly rounded shape of her abdomen.

  “I don’t play with girls.” Neela removed her toe from under the girl’s chin.

  Still kneeling, she looked up at Neela. “But then, this girl wonders why Ma’am would come tonight. Um, this girl means no disrespect.”

  “God, stop with the third person; I can’t stand that stuff! What’s your name?”

  “This girl is called, I mean, my name is Chantal, Ma’am.”

  “Better. Okay Chantal, now what are you talking about? I come here all the time. Why wouldn’t I want to come tonight?” Neela’s eyes swept over the tasty mocha form of the girl still on her knees on the floor. She had honey-colored hair swept up into a messy bun on the top of her head, and striking olive-green eyes.

  “Well, because it’s girls’ night. Sorry, Ma’am. I mean, it’s the second Saturday. The second Saturday is always girls’ night. This girl just thought—I mean I just thought, I mean you were so beautiful—I mean you are so beautiful and I’ve seen you here on other nights and I had hoped because I was so excited to see you tonight I thought maybe you’d like… I just thought, wow, ’cause you came on the second Saturday and maybe you didn’t want just boys and ’cause I always saw you and thought you were so hot and I…I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

  Chantal’s lips were full and pink; she licked them and they glistened. She wore no makeup. Neela wanted to drink the girl’s skin, it was so clear. She reached out and stroked her cheek. “No, it’s all right. Stay.” Her hand moved down to Chantal’s chin and her fingers found those lips, brushing and parting them as she rested a final finger on the girl’s lower lip.

  “How old are you, Chantal?”

  “Twenty-three, Ma’am.”

  Twenty-three. The walls of Neela’s cunt tingled. She was just a girl—and not only that, she was a girl—a girl with a rather boyish figure, but definitely a girl. Neela let her hand slide down the girl’s neck onto her chest. Her fingers lightly traced over Chantal’s nipple before she leaned in to lick it. Withdrawing slightly, she blew on the wet nipple and watched it crinkle and stiffen.

  Chantal’s eyes closed and she mumbled, “Thank you, Ma’am,” more to herself than aloud.

  Neela smiled and pinched the nipple between her fingernails. The girl’s eyes flew open and she said, quite plainly, “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  Well, maybe this once… It wasn’t like she’d never thought of playing with girls, it was just that the opportunity had never arisen before, or she hadn’t been looking for it. She’d been mourning the loss of Sam and hadn’t played in a long time. She’d come out tonight for a release and she was going to get one, goddamnit.

  “Chantal, why do you want to play with me?”

  “This girl…”

  “Bup, bup, bup.” Neela put her finger on the girl’s lips. “What did I say?”

  “Sorry, Ma’am. I forgot.”

  “So? Why me?”

  “Well, this—I’ve watched you on other nights playing with your boy and you’re just so beautiful and kinda scary, sort of… And whenever I see you play I always imagine that I’m your boy. I could be your boy, if you gave this girl, I mean me a chance…I could be…”

  “You’re very sweet. Who taught you to use that affected third person crap? Is there someone whose permission you need to play with me? I won’t play with someone else’s property without an invite.”

  “No, Ma’am, I don’t belong to anyone, not anymore. I did, but now I don’t. I just…” She looked like she was about to cry, but instead, she lowered her eyes and began again. “I used to belong to a mistress in Boston. She said that slaves didn’t have any rights and weren’t really people, so they should never use the I word when referring to themselves. She said they should never refer to themselves at all, unless their mistress made them, and then to show the proper respect by referring to themselves as property. She made sure we learned.”

  “How come you’re not with her anymore?”

  “I guess she got tired of me. She drove me to New York and left me at this club.”

  “What do you mean? When did she leave you here? How long ago?”

  “Three months. I used to come here every night, waiting for her to come back, but then I saw you.”

  Neela watched the tears begin to roll down Chantal’s face. Her heart went out to the girl. “Here now, you come sit up here with me,” she said, patting her lap. She put her arm around the girl’s shoulder and let the young slave snuggle against her neck. “That woman was an idiot. I really can’t stand people like that. Now, no more of that referring to yourself in third person. Not with me. I don’t like it.” She patted the girl’s thighs. “So you want to play with me, huh? I’m used to playing with boys, you know; I play rough.”

  “Yes, Ma’am, this girl likes it rough. I really like it rough.”

  “Mm, mm, mm, that’s another slip. What are we going to do to make you remember that you’re a person? I think a spanking’s in order here,” Neela said, smiling, her eyes twinkling.

  A wide grin split Chantal’s face and she nodded her head. “Yes, Ma’am, I think you’re absolutely right.” She bent over and slid down until she was lying across Neela’s lap and flipped her schoolgirl skirt up.

  As Neela expected, Chantal wasn’t wearing underwear. She had a perfect, round bottom and Neela could just see her cleanly shaved pussy lips peeking out from between her legs. There were a few fading bruises on her cheeks and the backs of her thighs.

  The first smack landed squarely in the middle of one cheek. She bounced a little, but otherwise made no sound. Neela landed another on the opposite cheek and then proceeded to cover the girl’s bottom in light spanks until it bore a uniform pink blush and began to take on some heat. She moved her hand down between Chantal’s legs to run her fingers over the girl’s sex. So smooth, so different from a boy’s sex. Chantal was obviously turned on, and feeling the girl’s excitement excited Neela.

  “You really are a very naughty little girl, aren’t you? You’re all wet down here.” Neela grabbed the girl’s cunt and squeezed until Chantal squeaked and the juices ran out between Neela’s fingers.

  Neela’s spanks rained harder and harder on the girl’s bottom while she ran her fingers through the girl’s wet slit. She smelled the fragrance of the girl’s arousal and noted that it was different from her own—similar, but different. The scent was a heady one, especially as she knew that she’d caused it. She sank her middle finger inside. It was a lovely, warm, moist feeling, but different than masturbating. The girl’s muscles contracted against her finger and Neela found herself warmed by the human connection. She slid her index finger inside to join her middle finger.

  “Oh, thank you, Ma’am,” Chantal moaned. She alternately pushed her bottom up to receive the smacks and thrust back against Neela’s hand. Neela gently pressed and caressed the wall of the girl’s hot, wet interior, over and over.

  She felt the girl freeze against her legs, and then begin to squirm. Without changing the motion of her fingers, she stopped spanking. “What’s the matter, little girl? Why so squirmy?” she said with a low chuckle.

  “Please, Ma’am, may this girl come?”

  SMACK! “What?”

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry, but please, Ma’am, I have to come. Please.”

  “I don’t think I should let you come. You obviously haven’t learned your lesson.” She slowly removed her fingers from the girl’s cunt.

  “Nooooo…”

  “Oh, please. What, you thought this was about you? Poor little subby-girl—thinks she gets to come after ten minutes of playing. Right! No, I think you’d better come with me,” Neela said, setting the girl on her feet and taking hold of her wrist. “Now, what shall I do with you? Ah, I know.” Holding on to the girl, she strode purposefully toward the back of the club.

  “Where are we going, Ma’am?” Chantal followed along behind with an ever-widening smile plastered to her face until Neel
a finally stopped in front of an unoccupied massage table.

  “All right girl, hop up here and get comfortable. I don’t think we need this skirt right now, do we?” Neela took the skirt, folded it and put it on a nearby bench. She attached the girl’s ankles to cuffs at the sides of the table, spreading her legs as wide as the table would allow.

  Chantal sat up to watch as her legs were fastened to the table. When Neela finished she turned around and put her palm against the girl’s chest. Once Chantal was flat against the table again, Neela fastened her wrists to cuffs at the top of the table.

  “I’m going to examine you. I’ve examined lots of boys, but never a girl. With you fastened and spread like this, I can take my time and get a good look at you.” She could see that her words were having their effect on the girl as Chantal began to squirm against her restraints a bit and her breathing quickened.

  “Look at these pretty little nipples.” As she spoke, before she could even touch them, they both crinkled and stiffened. “Oh, that’s so sweet, they’re getting themselves ready for me.” She lightly ran her fingers over both nipples at the same time.

  Chantal shuddered.

  Neela traced circles around and around the girl’s areolas, making sure the nipples were as hard as they were going to get before pinching them between her thumbs and forefingers. She started out with a minimum of pressure but gradually increased it until the girl moaned. She pulled them up, stretching Chantal’s breasts and elongating her nipples.

  “You have such sweet little breasts, almost like a boy’s, but different.” She pulled a little farther, finally letting the nipples slip from her grasp. Red and distended, they were irresistible to her and she bent to run her tongue over the nearest one to the sounds of Chantal’s soft moans.

  Neela worried the nipple and its surrounding flesh with her tongue before backing away slightly and blowing on it. Placing her mouth back over it, she lightly bit the tiny nub of flesh with her teeth. Chantal rocked her body from side to side in response.