by Radclyffe
The moment her tongue licked my lips, I let out a groan so deep I felt it in my solar plexus rather than heard it. She lapped at me, teasing my lips until they were so full of blood and so overly sensitive I had to pull away. She would have none of that. She gripped my hips and held me fast while she buried her face against me. I didn’t want to be without her touch for even a moment. My fingers dug into her scalp, scratching amid her thick hair, pressing her head so hard against me I momentarily feared she couldn’t breathe. Her tongue lashed at my sex, lapping my sopping pussy like an eager kitten lapping a bowl of thick, heavenly cream. And what a kitten she was!
Malena knew exactly where to direct the fevered motions of her talented tongue. She flicked my clit ever so gently, as if she knew I’d feel overly sensitive by direct touch. She had the precision of a surgeon, and she knew exactly where to place her glorious tongue to drive me mad.
She massaged my bum and then the small of my back as she lifted my hips to give her greater access to my sex. She flattened her tongue against my lips and slowly licked back and forth along the entire length until I was in such agonizing arousal I begged her to finish me off. She’d have none of that either.
“I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll crawl down the stairs on all fours,” she whispered. “And you’ll come when I say so. Understand?”
“Yes, but don’t be so cruel. I can’t bear this agony much longer.”
Her deep-throated laugh rang in my ears. “Your agony is my pleasure, and I’ll make it the best pleasure you’ve ever felt. Just lie back and enjoy yourself. I’ll help you get through the day, and we’ll be together alone this evening to continue where we leave off.”
Before I could answer, she took my tender clit between her soft lips. I writhed beneath her, oversensitive bud crying out in sheer ecstasy. Malena moaned a laugh. The reverberations vibrated through my pussy, and I tightened around the finger she somehow slipped inside me without my being completely aware of it. I gripped that finger, and then she slid in two, then three, all the while working her magic on my clit. Her tongue flicked in circles around my clit, not directly on it, and I took the break to breathe, but I shouldn’t have let my guard down.
She licked one finger and slipped it into my anus, and with a cry I arched my back as a roiling orgasm ravished my body. Over and over I came, like never before, one orgasm subsiding into another to crest and flow again. I gripped her fingers as I rode her hand, bucking so hard against the chaise lounge it jumped on the deck. Warm fluid spurted from deep inside to slick my thighs and bum. Sweat on my forehead and chest beaded on my skin, tickling me as it dripped down fine hair. My pulse pounded in my ears with an orgasm more intense than any I’d ever before felt.
I opened my eyes, and the sun seemed unbearably bright. The salty scent of the surf intensified in the air around me. The blue of the sky grew deeper and the song of gulls crashed in my ears. My senses had gone into overdrive as my body melted in the afterglow of my climax. Malena lifted her head from me, wiped her face clean with the back of her hand and licked the fingers that had been in my pussy, smiling at me in her own bewitching way.
“I won’t bathe so I may smell your scent on me all day.” She smiled. “I’ve wanted to ravish you since we first met. I wonder what took so long?”
“I wasn’t sure if you were into women. I should have made a move earlier.”
She caressed my cheek, and I bent my head into her palm as if offering myself to her.
“I knew you wouldn’t. You’re too shy. It has always been up to me, but you actually did make the first move by showering me with all that attention. You sent very clear signals. It was up to me to read them properly.”
She stood and straightened her skirt, but she did not put on her tank top. Her breasts teased me as they bobbed and swayed, begging for my touch, but I knew I was out of time. Malena took me by the hand, helped me rise and kissed me on the lips. I tasted my essence as her tongue slipped into my mouth.
“At 5:05, I expect to see you up here, ready to continue where we left off.”
“And I’ll return the favor.”
She smiled. “I look forward to it.”
I slipped back into my clothes and then felt the gift in my skirt pocket. “Ah, before I forget, speaking of showering you with attention, I have a gift for you. I saw this at one of the shops and it had your name written all over it.”
When Malena saw the delicate necklace I pulled from my pocket, her face lit up. She took it from me and held it up to the sunlight.
“It’s beautiful! I love it! Since it’s from you, I’ll cherish it always.” She fingered shards of glass, their edges softened by years of riding the tides. Blue matched the ocean water and emerald matched her eyes. Small shells hung between rice pearls holding the necklace together.
“Think of me when you wear it. Let me put it on you,” I said.
She turned away from me and lifted her hair. I unclasped the necklace and fastened it around her swanlike neck. Her café-au-lait skin brought out the sheer colors of the jewels and shells.
“You look beautiful. As always,” I said.
She swept me up in her arms and kissed me again, full on the lips. Our tongues tangled, never wanting to let go. When she pulled away, I groaned with disappointment.
“I’ll never take it off,” she said. “I’ll have a good meal ready for us when you come upstairs.”
“And then back to the deck and the chaise lounge?”
“Or my bed.” She grinned.
I wanted to make love under the light of the moon with the crashing waves our only witnesses. As I tidied my dress, Malena picked up my satin panties and held them to her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the very essence of my being.
“I’m keeping these. I want to be reminded of you all day. Go commando and think of me.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” I drew her into my arms and kissed her, feeling my body melt into hers as if we belonged together. Which we did.
“Until 5:05,” I said.
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
I headed down the stairs to prepare for the day. Fresh coffee and Kahlúa in hand, I sipped as the hours sped by until I could be in Malena’s arms again, where I belonged. I didn’t want to be anywhere else, knowing the ocean’s tides would witness our love again that evening.
WIGGLE-WIGGLE-WOMP
D. Jackson Leigh
The soft slap of my sneakers echoed rhythmically in the silence of the third-floor corridor ringing the coliseum. Except for the occasional straggler looking for the VIP lounge’s free beer, the hallway was empty, just the way I felt.
We always came to the basketball tournament together. It was the highlight of our year—four days of beautiful, athletic female bodies, gladiators of the court pushing their abilities and opponents as far as possible. We both loved the competition, the cheering, the greasy hot dogs and roasted pecans. We loved getting to know the people sitting around us, strangers at the beginning and new friends by the time the tournament ended.
Sure, plenty of those tournament friends, as well as our personal friends, filled the generous seating this year. But she had to work over the weekend and her absence licked the red off my candy, spoiled the milk in my cereal, let the air out of my fun. We always came together. I wanted to whine, but settled for silent sulk and another solitary trip around the coliseum’s circumference.
I glanced up at the periodic TV monitor near the end of my fifth lap. The next game was about to begin. I sighed. The friends I was sitting with would wonder where I’d gone. First, a pit stop. I pushed through the door to the ladies’ restroom. The top-tier seating wouldn’t fill up until the last two days of the tournament, so there was no line. Just empty stalls.
I was about to flush when I heard the door open and someone come in. I expected it was one of the bored spouses cajoled into attending the tournament because her partner loved basketball. The VIP lounge was usually filled with them
, drinking the tournament away while their more sober partners were downstairs actually watching the action.
When I exited the stall, the newcomer was leaning against the row of sinks, playing with a tiny toy badger. She was really cute—short black spiky hair and blue, blue eyes. I’m a sucker for blue eyes. She pressed the badger’s paw and set it on the long vanity. It shook its furry little butt as it inched along the sinks. “Wiggle-wiggle-womp,” it growled out in a grumpy old man voice before reciting a plug for a local car dealership.
I smiled at her. “Cute.”
She looked up from the toy and cocked her head. “You think so?”
I shrugged. “In a weird kind of way, I guess. Where’d you get it?”
“I saw it on a local TV commercial, so I went to the dealership and bought one.”
“Huh. Didn’t know they sold them. The commercials are pretty popular, though.”
“So, you live here?”
“Not in Greensboro, but only about two hours away.” I dried my hands and took aim at the trash receptacle. The wadded paper towel arced perfectly across the room and joined the rest of the trash. “We’re all about basketball in North Carolina.”
“Three points,” she said, acknowledging my score. “Then you can be my first test subject.” She held out her hand. “I’m Haley.”
I smiled and took her hand in mine. “I’m Logan.”
“Pleased to meet you.” She held up the toy. “Interested?”
Not in that toy. I dropped my gaze in an obvious sweep of her toned body. “In being your test subject?”
Her face reddened, but she grinned at my response. “Yes. I’m working with the WNBA to put together marketing profiles for two new expansion teams. One of the locations under consideration is Portland, Oregon. So, I’m thinking the Portland Badgers.” She squeezed the badger’s paw again and we watched its butt wiggle as it chanted its slogan. “I was thinking there must be a way to work that wiggle-wiggle-womp into our marketing material.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She raised her eyebrows. “No. I’m totally serious. I can see it now. The Badgers make a really big play and the fans stand up, turn their butts to the opposing team and—” She pressed the badger’s paw a third time and turned around to demonstrate. “Wiggle-wiggle-womp. Wiggle-wiggle-womp.”
She chanted along with the toy and shook the cutest ass I’d ever seen. After I un-swallowed my tongue, I began to laugh. The more I laughed, the more she performed.
She finally stopped and turned back to me. “See? You love it.”
I nodded enthusiastically. “I’m ready to buy season tickets.”
She winked at me. “Thanks for the input.”
“Are you going downstairs?” I hoped, I hoped. “The next game must have started by now, and I have an empty seat next to mine.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got some business to take care of, but maybe I’ll see you around later.” She picked up her furry friend. “Enjoy the games this afternoon.”
Then she was gone, and I was left with nothing but the throb between my legs. I briefly considered ducking into a stall to take care of that. Two minutes max. Instead, I decided to enjoy the sweet ache as a reminder of her dance and the possibility that I might see her again.
Later that night the throb was in my ears, the pounding in my head.
I usually loved the after-games parties. Drinking and dancing and drinking. It was the one time each year we sprang for an expensive hotel room so we could attend the raucous lesbian gathering downstairs and just stumble upstairs to fall into bed.
My heart, however, wasn’t in it tonight. My girl wasn’t here. No slow dances. No stolen kisses. No dark corner groping. It sucked the life out of my party.
I stirred my drink and sank deeper into my pout. My friends were getting obnoxiously inebriated. The disco-themed music was too loud, and the alcohol in my drink was making my sinuses swell. I wondered if my friends were drunk enough for me to slip up to my quiet room where I could lie in the dark and mourn my ruined vacation.
“Is this seat taken?”
I turned and fell into those Carolina blue eyes, completely forgetting that I’m a die-hard Duke fan. The night suddenly didn’t seem so dark.
I grinned at her. “I was holding it for you.”
She waved at a waitress carrying a tray of drinks. “Over here,” she said.
The waitress unloaded two tall cranberry and vodkas and eight shots of buttery nipple, and then disappeared with a smile and a ten-dollar tip.
“I call this ‘sweet-tart,’” she said, smiling at me.
I looked over the selection of drinks, and then at her. “Uh, Haley, right?” Damn, she had cute dimples.
“That’s right.” She divided the drinks between us and held up the first of her four shot glasses. “To the Badgers.”
I grabbed a shot glass and downed it with her, then sipped my Cape Cod. She was right. The sweetness of the butterscotch schnapps was a great contrast to the tart cranberry juice. She was sweet to buy the drinks for us, and the alcohol left me feeling like a bit of a tart. I lifted a second shot. “To the bluest eyes in Carolina.”
She downed the second with me and grinned as she picked up the third. “To tall, sexy Duke fans.”
Oh, yeah. The vacation was saved. The song segued into an old Donna Summer tune and I made a final toast. “To bad girls.”
We tossed back the last of our buttery nipples, and I took a big gulp of my Codder before she grabbed my hand and led me to the dance floor. Four songs later the pounding in my ears and sinuses had dropped to my groin. My blood pumped with the music and the sway of her hips. My eyes followed the tiny drop of perspiration that trickled down her temple and along her jawline, and then stopped at her very kissable lips pursed in concentration as she danced. They were moving now. She was talking. But my ears, my thoughts were filled with bad girls, and I only blinked at her.
So she gestured as though she was drinking something and led me back toward our table. We were winding through the crowd behind the waitress with another laden tray when a drunk stumbled into her. I whipped an arm around Haley’s waist and tried to yank her out of the way, but the tray of drinks hit her thighs and soaked her pants down past her knees.
“Sorry,” the drunk muttered before staggering off.
“I’m so sorry,” the waitress said. “Let me get you a towel.”
Haley looked down at her dripping pants. “I’m not sure a towel is going to be much help.”
“I have a room upstairs,” I offered. “I’m sure I have some sweats I can loan you.”
“Really? That’d be great,” she said.
I took her hand in mine for our walk to the elevators and didn’t relinquish it even when others crowded in with us or when I had to dig my room key from my pocket and unlock the door. She turned to me as soon as the door closed. Our eyes met and she touched my cheek. Her lips tasted of cranberries, her tongue of butterscotch. She moaned and I’d swear the national anthem was playing as she fumbled with the buttons on my shirt. Was that the starting buzzer sounding in my head? Play ball.
We struggled with each other’s clothing, but I won the toss, coming away with her pants. I passed them off to the chair and walked her backward to the bed to set up the play. She yanked me down on top of her in a woman-on-woman defense, but I blocked her attempt to get a hand down my pants and came away with her panties.
I was ready to make my play.
I drove right down the middle, laying nips and kisses down her neck, pushing her T-shirt up to taste her breasts and belly, and then leapt forward when I found the lane wide open. She was hot and swollen and salty-sweet on my tongue. Her moans filled the room. Her defense was failing. I could have scored easy points. Instead, I eased back to use up more of the clock.
She writhed under me. “Please, I need to come.”
The shot clock was running close, so I went for the score. I let my teeth scrape along her turgid clit as I sucked h
er in.
“Fuck!” Her eyes went wide and her body rigid when I filled her with my fingers to show her my best stroke. Her body bowed and she screamed.
Score. We both panted from the exertion.
She pushed me back and tugged at my pants. I realized that although my shirt was half-unbuttoned and my pants hanging open, I was still dressed. “Off,” she said.
She had possession now, and she wasn’t ready to call a time out. I love a woman with stamina.
I stood and dropped my pants and underwear to the floor. I was so ready, my stomach clenched. I moved to straddle her shoulders in hopes that she’d take advantage of the open court and go for the fast break, but she had other ideas.
She grabbed the front of my shirt, jerking me to the bed. A clear foul, but I liked physical play. She rolled me onto my back and ripped my shirt off, buttons flying across the room. Okay. That was definitely a charging violation, but her mouth covered mine and swallowed my protest.
Fast break was definitely not in her plans. She took her time, exploring my mouth with her tongue and my body with her hands. I shivered when she licked my pulse and dragged her nails low across my belly. I shuddered when her teeth clamped down hard and her tongue flicked against my taut nipple. And I whimpered when her fingers began to stroke where I needed her most.
God, I needed to come. I bucked my hips to encourage her to stroke harder, faster, but she bit down on my shoulder and flung her leg across my thighs to pin me to the bed. She was setting this tempo now.
Then she stopped. “Time out,” she said, releasing me and jumping to her feet.
“Wha-what? Where are you going?” I was rattled. Did I drop the ball? Miss a call?
She grabbed her pants and ran into the bathroom. “I don’t want these stains to set. These are my favorite pants.”
I could hear water running. Seriously? I’m lying here with my clit hanging out and so near the edge. I slide my hand down my belly and into my soaked curls.
“Don’t touch yourself.”
I jumped when she yelled. How did she know? She couldn’t possibly see through the bathroom wall. I rolled onto my side, but she slipped in behind me before I could box her out. I was bigger and stronger, but she had momentum on her side and rolled me onto my stomach, her weight pinning me. Before I could regroup, her thumb was inside me and her fingers slid over my clit.