After Midnight
Page 16
A frown crinkled her brow. “Hmm. Better. Is that the best you can do?”
I was spread wide in front of her, her mouth inches from my swollen clit. My juices dripped from my cunt and down my crack, tickling my ass. I was probably leaving a wet spot on the chair. I didn’t give a damn. “My significant other.”
Her fingertip found my opening. “Too cold. I’m tired of your feminist bullshit. What else?”
I squirmed and clenched my muscles, trying to suck her finger into me. I groaned when I felt her go a little deeper. “My room-mate.”
The finger retreated. “That’s worse than friend.”
I moaned, my brain searching frantically for something that would please her. “My lover.”
Rosalie cooed and the finger slid all the way inside. “That’s nice. Very brave.” Her thumb made gentle circles around my asshole and I whimpered.
She fucked me like that for a bit, her finger bumping my cervix as she massaged the walls of my cunt. I pushed my hips up to meet her thrusts and her thumb lodged against my asshole. After a while one finger wasn’t enough, I was too wet. I wanted to feel more of her.
“Please, baby,” I said. “Give me more.”
She withdrew her finger and hooked her hands under my thighs, pushing my legs up on the arms of the chair. I was spread as wide as I could go, the lips of my cunt stretched taut, exposing me to her gaze. She bent her head and I felt her breath. So close. So damn close.
“C’mon, Rose, don’t tease me.” I mauled my tits in frustration, wanting her to touch me and yet secretly thrilled by her newfound dominance.
“I like lover,” she said, sounding as prim and proper as any librarian I’d ever worked with. “But it’s a little blunt. What else do you have?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t think.
“Tell me.” Her fingernail lightly scraped the side of my clit and I jumped. “Tell me and I’ll suck you until you come.”
Every muscle in my body quivered with need. I stared into her flushed face, seeing passion and something more. Something so tender and honest, it brought tears to my eyes.
“My love,” I whispered. “This is Rosalie, my love.”
I was rewarded by her brilliant smile. I had only a moment to enjoy it before she tucked her hands under my ass and raised my soaked crotch to her mouth. I groaned and squirmed against her face as she plunged her tongue into me. She feasted on my cunt lips and then moved up to my swollen clit, sucking it between her lips. She slid one hand up my thigh and used two fingers to fuck me hard and fast. I could hear the wet, squishy sounds of my cunt as I screamed her name over and over.
I came so hard I got an instant, blinding headache. She gently nursed on my quivering clit as I floated back to earth. The pain in my head faded to a dull ache as I looked down at her. Her mouth glistened with my juices while her fingers still made lazy circles inside me. I squeezed those fingers and smiled wickedly.
“What?” she asked, licking her lips.
I pulled her up on my lap and kissed her, loving the taste of me on her mouth. Gathering her damp hair in my hand, I tilted her head back to look at her. “What would you have done if I’d called you the old ball-and-chain?”
She reached down and tweaked my still-sensitive clit with her thumb and forefinger. “Why don’t you find out?”
I grinned and squirmed before pushing her off my lap and leading her toward the bedroom. I decided I didn’t really want a goldfish after all.
BRONCO BUTCHES
Ellen Tevault
I know, the sexual confessions of a femme who loves a butch with a strap-on—or do I mean a strap-on with a butch?—is a given. Well, this tomboyish femme’s sexual desires have landed her in some trouble.
Once I brought up the topic of butches and strap-ons in a butch-femme e-group, and for my views on the topic, I received a staunch thrashing from the other femmes. Of course, the butches remained silent.
The first time I tried it was more than ten years ago with a past girlfriend, Gina. Up until then, I hadn’t used a strap-on, but one day it happened.
As we cuddled in bed, I said, “I bought a strap-on today.” I avoided Gina’s gaze and waited for her reaction. Since we’d only been dating a week, I didn’t know what to expect.
“Let me see it.” When I heard a lilt in her voice, I glanced at her face and saw a beaming smile.
“Really?” I stared at her, not knowing what to do. “Have you ever used one?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to.” Gina pulled me close and held me. “A lot of femmes love them.”
“Yeah.” I sighed, not knowing how to ask what I wanted to at that moment.
“Now, go get it.” She gently pushed me away. “Please. Let’s try it.”
After a few long seconds I crawled out of bed and snatched the bag from the closet. I handed it to Gina and watched her open it as I played nervously with my hair.
She pulled the cock and strap from the bag with a wicked grin. When she saw the contraption, she furrowed her brow.
“It’s a cheap one,” I told her. I crawled back into bed and looked over her shoulder at it. “Will it work?”
“We’ll make it work.” She threaded the elastic strap around her thick waist. “Boy, where’d you get this?” She snapped the elastic strap onto the cock base.
“Susan and I went to that store on Pendleton Pike.” I grinned, thinking about how our friend Terry had refused to go with us. “You know, the one with the peep shows in the back room.”
Gina chuckled. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be caught dead in there. Too scary.” She pulled me close, and I felt the cock bounce against my thigh. “You went in there? You are one tough femme to do that, darling.”
“Yeah?” I giggled. “I wanted one.”
“Well, when we can afford it, we’ll buy a better one. One with a leather harness.” As she talked, she slid the cock between my lips. “We’ll do our best with this one, though.” She thrust her hips, and I felt the cock fill me up.
“Hmm, that feels good.” I wrapped my legs around Gina’s husky frame as she slid the cock in and out. “Oh, yeah, deeper.”
She responded by slapping her body against my thighs. As the cock penetrated my deepest recesses, I shuddered and screamed.
“Give it to me, baby,” she grunted as she held my thighs and slammed into me. “Don’t hold it back. Come for me.”
I groaned as my orgasm shot from me and I collapsed onto the bed. Gina brushed my hair out of my face and kissed me. I shivered and shuddered more as she held me.
“Feel good?” She kissed my head.
“Good,” I whispered into her chest.
After a few minutes of recuperating and cuddling, I asked the unthinkable. “Have you ever received?”
“Received what?” She brushed her fingers through my hair.
I paused and licked my lips as I thought about how to ask for what I wanted. “Received?” I pointed to the cock as I spoke.
Gina’s hand froze in my hair, when she realized what I meant. My breathing quickened as I waited for her to respond.
“Have you done this before?” she asked.
“Done what?” I wanted to look up at her, but I couldn’t.
“You, you know,” she said, lacing her fingers through my long, dark hair.
“No, I’ve never been on either end of one until tonight.”
“Really?” Gina chuckled. “I would’ve never known.”
“Oh, shut up.” I play-slugged her and giggled. I didn’t know if she was trying to change the subject, so I resigned myself to letting it drop.
She sighed and whispered her response so softly I almost didn’t hear it. “Okay.”
I jerked my head up and looked at her. “What?”
“You heard me.” She unsnapped the cock and handed it to me. “Do you need help putting it on?”
“I don’t know.” Suddenly I felt overwhelmed and wondered if I should do it.
“Let me help.” Gina wrapped the elastic a
round my waist and snapped the cock into place. I watched her secure it. When she finished, she smiled at me. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” I raised one eyebrow as I spoke.
“I wouldn’t have said yes if I wasn’t.” She nuzzled my neck, which electrified my spine.
“Have you ever?” I gulped and motioned to the cock.
“No.” She shook her head. “You’d be my first, too.”
“Really?” I bit my lip and smiled. “Really?” I laughed. “Goodie.”
Gina leaned back and pulled me on top of her. “Are you ready, baby?”
“Yeah, I am.” I kissed her before I leaned up and gripped her ample thighs. “Oh, God,” I said. A power rush like none I’d felt before overcame me as I slid the cock into my big, luscious butch and she sighed with ecstasy. I watched her face as I worked the toy in and out. She closed her eyes and bit her lip between sighs.
At first it felt awkward trying to guide the cock with my hips. I wanted to feel it like guys do, but I could only imagine the heat of her cunt seeping into its flesh. Every so often I flicked my eyes away from her face to watch the cock enter her again. I licked my lips as I saw it open her lips and penetrate her.
“Oh, God.” My body and time moved in slow motion with every sensation on high. “Does that feel good?”
“Better than I thought,” she said, bucking against me as I pushed forward.
With her guidance I grabbed on to her thighs and sped up my movements to match her needs. When I thought my hips would give out on me, she clenched her jaw, grunted, and shuddered in orgasm.
I collapsed on top of her, and she held me to her chest. I felt her breathing slow from a pant to a steady release. She brushed my hair away from my face and kissed my forehead. When I looked up at her, I didn’t know what to expect. She smiled groggily.
After that moment, I was hooked on the power of giving such pleasure, especially to a butch.
A few years later, I met my hersband, Melissa, who was basically a virgin. She’d never received in bed, except for a little experimenting with men.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t that great when I was with them,” she said, referring to penetration with the men. “I ended up lying there wondering what the hell all the fuss was about. This is it?” She shrugged her arms.
“Please, just once.” I lowered my eyes and bit my lip. “Just once. If you don’t like it, we won’t ever try it again.”
After a few long quiet moments, Melissa said, “Just once?” She paused and glanced over to the strap-on. “Okay? Once?”
She helped me fasten the strap around my plump waist and the others around my thighs. “I don’t know about that cock. It looks awfully big,” she said. She rummaged through the toy box. “Here it is. Mr. Slim Jim.” She chuckled. “He’s just right.” She swapped the cocks on the strap-on and smiled.
“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”
“Yep, I’m sure, so go slow.” Melissa leaned back and slid a pillow under her hips. “Be gentle with me. I’m fragile, you know.”
“You are such a jokester. How can I take you seriously?” I lunged at her.
She wrestled with me as she said, “Because you can.” Once I’d pinned her down, I teased her clit with my free hand. “Hey, that’s cheating,” she said. She wiggled in such a way that I couldn’t tell if she wanted to get away or get closer, so I stayed with her. “Oh, God.” She threw her head back and sighed. “Woman, you’re incredible. You make me feel things I thought I’d never feel.”
“Good.” I cuddled against her and kissed her neck’s curve. “That’s what I want.”
“You know, you scare the hell out of me.” She chuckled, but I knew she meant it by the tone of her voice.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” I said as I rose onto my knees, tilted my head, and shot her my innocent look.
She ruffled my hair. “I bet. You don’t fool me.”
“I don’t?” I mocked disappointment. “Darn it.”
Melissa and I both laughed until an uncomfortable silence enveloped us. She stared at me, and I struggled with whether or not I should make the next move. I trailed my hands over her full thighs and enjoyed the soft, warm flesh. I inched my hips into place between her legs, and the cock nudged against her thigh.
“Oh, boy,” she sighed as I approached.
“Changing your mind?” I paused for a response. “I’ll stop. It’s okay.”
She shook her head and wrapped her legs around me, which trapped me between her thighs. “I said I would.”
I worked my hand between her legs and stroked her lips. Moisture lubed my hand as I manipulated her silky folds.
“Hmm, that feels good.” She loosened her grip around my waist. “Oh, yeah.”
After I worked her moisture over the cock, I slid it in inch by inch until it was buried inside her hot hole. I paused for her to get used to the penetration. When she bucked against me, I knew it was time to give her what she craved. I worked it in and out at a steady beat as she squirmed and latched onto the headboard and mattress corner with her hands.
“I need more. Deeper.”
Hearing those words, an animalistic desire overcame me. I raised her thighs between us, reached over her head for the headboard, and pumped my hips the fastest I’d ever ridden. I felt the headboard squish my fingers against the wall, but I ignored it as she bucked against me. The more she screamed the faster and harder I wanted to give it to her.
“Whose feet?” she panted, looking around. “Oh, who gives a shit? Keep going.” She yelled a string of words I didn’t understand, which I took as encouragement.
Finally, sweat dripped and pooled between us as I rode my butch.
“Come on, baby. Give it to me.” I encouraged her through pants and moans.
“Oh, shit.” She stretched those two words out for a few seconds before she collapsed.
I fell on top of Melissa, breathing heavily.
“Oh, shit.” She slowly withdrew her hands from the spots they’d been holding on to. “Oh, shit.”
“Is that all you can say?” I lifted my head off her chest and glanced up at her. “You, okay?”
She nodded and licked her lips. We lay there for half an hour or more before she spoke again. “Whose feet were those?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
She lifted her hand slowly and held it within inches of her face. “The feet that were right here. Whose were they?”
I giggled. “I think they were yours.” A blush rose to my face as I thought about it.
“Oh, shit, honey.” She pulled me to her. “Honey? I don’t think big girls are supposed to fold in half like that.” She chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “Not that I’m complaining or anything.”
Melissa and I cuddled and dozed off and on. During one of our alert moments, I asked, “So is it a one-time thing? Or can we do it again sometime?”
“Definitely again. You ain’t getting off that easy.” She tickled me. “I’m keeping score of your talents and making a schedule of future demonstrations.”
I giggled and tickled her back. “How about being my bad boy sometime?”
She furrowed her eyebrows and said, “What does that mean?” She thought for a minute and smiled. “So is that why you like to watch those anal videos?”
“Yeah.” I glanced at her for a reaction, embarrassed she’d figured it out so easily.
“We’ll see, darling. Oh, boy will we see.” She paused and stared at the ceiling. “Bad boy? Is that what you want to call it?” She nodded. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll be your bad boy.”
NYC
Rowan Elizabeth
I always want to kiss Cleo. Every single time I’m near her. She makes me feel sensual and erotic by her very presence. Cleo sees the world as a poet does, lyrically. She brings me to views I haven’t yet seen, elegant words in an often-skewed perspective. She finds divine details to decorate her life. We met in the days of
dancing, drink, and unabashed lust. It was a time when I surrounded myself with passionate people.
In those days, my heart belonged to my dearest friend, Liz, and she was irreplaceable. Small, muscular, and dark, she had an exotic quality that drew people to her. Her father was an excommunicated priest, her mother the Bolivian beauty that seduced him from the Lord. I had met Liz on the porch of a house shared by our friends. She swung in the hammock and invited me to work out with her. I said yes just to be near her. It was the beginning of an understanding. We would know all about each other. We do to this day.
Liz and I would often find ourselves in rich restaurants or pounding clubs, yet we never found ourselves in bed together. We loved each other as sisters, with a strange bent, and were extraordinarily protective of each other. We each looked after the other’s heart, while at the same time we led each other into delicious destruction whenever we could.
We would take great pains to prepare ourselves for our long nights of carnal delights. In the slope-ceilinged attic apartment of a downtown house, we’d begin drinking wine and occasional tequila that would continue throughout the night, and fussed for perfection. We flung ourselves around to cheap audiocassettes of dance mixes that had been given to us by DJs at our favorite haunts. We finalized with a brazen application of the deepest red lipstick and escaped into what I always remember as cold nights. Close together in Liz’s small white car with her inadequate heater.
It was in the dark, smoky club NYC—a deteriorating store-front building with great glass windows and one large room serving as a bar—that we danced like heathens. The decadent were funneled into a much smaller room in the back to dance. Sweat, deafening music; pulsing, throbbing bodies in a claustrophobic’s nightmare.
Beautiful gay men and divine women of variable sexualities forced themselves into the small room. On a platform, someone would be dancing in nothing but jockeys or a gladiator harness, sometimes getting fondled by another dancer. I’d enter the room as if pushing through a wall. That moment removed me from the reality I knew and brought me into the dream I kept. I’d shut my eyes and fall into the music. Sometimes alone, usually terrifyingly close to someone else. When all I wanted to do was dance without the constriction of another, Liz and I would create our own space of gruff attitudes to seal ourselves from intrusion. Liz smelled of patchouli, alcohol, cigarettes, and the lingering scents of other women. I’d drop into the rhythm, take in her scent, and simply exist in the bursting lights and fervor of the music.