“Oh, yes, Kaylee! Yes!” she cried, her body heaving beneath me, jugs jumping in my moist little hands.
I bobbed my head over to her other sandwiched boob, poured my lips over its protruding cap and suckled hard and tight and wet. Her nipples tasted so good, her boobs felt so great, I could have gone on all day fondling and sucking. But she wanted more of the story.
“Oh, Kaylee!” she moaned. “Tell me more!” I spat out her nipple. “Well, then the guy really got oral on me, if you know what I mean.”
Luisa stared up at me, her tits rapidly rising and falling in my hands, with her breath, nipples glistening with my saliva. “You mean . . .”
“Yeah. He tried to give me cunnilingus, or whatever they call it. I think he thought if he made that big sacrifice then I’d suck his cock, give him a blow job, and maybe even let him stick his prick inside me or whatever.”
She batted her eyelashes. “He ate out your pussy?”
I sighed. “Tried to, anyway. He went down on me, all right, though. Like this.”
I let go of Luisa’s big boobs and they splayed out on either side of her chest. Then I wormed down her body, to her jeans. I popped them open, pulled the zipper down, and she arched her hips and bum up off the couch so that I could skin her jeans down her thighs to her knees.
The beautiful woman wasn’t wearing any panties. Her pussy was strip-shaved, glossy black fur hedging either side of her slit, puckered pussy lips all slick and shiny. I pushed her legs a bit apart and dropped my head lower, breathed on her cunt.
“Oh, Kaylee!” she moaned, her whole body shuddering.
I gripped her taut thighs, feeling the long muscles quivering beneath the golden skin, and stared at her pretty pussy. Then I stuck out my tongue and licked, all the way from deep in between her legs up to the top of her slit, over her clitty. She spasmed like I’d jolted her with electricity or something.
I licked her pussy again and again, really slurping. She tasted yummy, all hot and tangy, her exotic aroma filling my nose and head, as I scooped up her juices with my tongue and filled my mouth with her essence. She was just as wet as me, super-juicy.
I felt her hands on my head, her fingers sliding into my blonde hair and gripping, guiding my head up and down. I eagerly, excitedly licked and licked, really tongue-lashing her twat. Her fur was all springy, her pussy lips all wrinkly.
Her cunt felt so good under my stroking tongue that I had to have more, go deeper. So, I slid my hands up her trembling thighs and planted my fingers on her slippery flaps, spread them, stabbed my tongue into her ultimate pink.
“Oh, God!” she screamed, thrusting her mound up into my face, burying my tongue even deeper inside her. “Eat me, Kaylee! Eat me!”
I filled her tunnel with my tongue. I’ve got a long tongue, agile, and I used every budded inch of it inside Luisa. Her inner pink was neon bright and super slick, satin smooth and oven hot. I corkscrewed my tongue all around inside of her, my lower lip pressing against her lower flaps, my upper lip pressing against her clit.
She bucked up and down, riding my tongue. I sort of lurched my head back and forth, pumping the woman’s pussy with my tongue. We moved together in perfect, passionate rhythm. I drilled way deep, penetrating and pistoning her pink. Until I finally jerked my head up and grinned at Luisa, my nose and lips and chin all shiny with her juices.
“Then he sucked on my button,” I said.
She stared down her undulating breasts and body at me, her eyes glazed and desperate. “Who . . . who did? Oh, yes, your boyfriend. He’s so . . . so talented with his tongue!”
“Not really,” I responded. “He was actually pretty inept. I’m kind of embellishing his oral skills. Hope you don’t mind.”
She jerked her head from side to side, her hair flying. “He sucked on your clit, you said?”
“Oh, yeah. At least, he tried to. He sort of bungled that, too, because he really didn’t know where it was. He’s not very experienced, you know. His fingernails pinched my pussy lips when he pulled them apart and his teeth nicked my clit when he tried to suck.”
Luisa was trembling wildly, her body quivering head to toe, as I yapped my hot story out onto her seething pussy. “Please, Kaylee! Show me!”
I grinned and licked my lips. Then I bent my head back down and gently pulled Luisa’s pussy lips aside at the top and sort of pushed down to fully reveal her clit. I blew on her button.
She jumped. Her clitty was swelled up huge, pink and pulsating. I tickled it with my twitching tongue-tip, making Luisa jump repeatedly, tapping it a dozen or more times. Then I slid my lips over it and captured it in my mouth and sucked.
Her fingernails bit into my scalp, her body straining with tension, as I sucked and sucked on her engorged button, my lips slurping and cheeks billowing. I let go of her flaps and glided my hands around and under her butt cheeks, helping lift her up off the couch, lifting her mound up even higher into my mouth.
Her full, round cheeks were clenched tight. They convulsed in my clutching hands, as I sucked even harder, tighter, just about pulling the woman’s trigger right out of her cunt and into my mouth. That’s when I felt a squirt of hot juice against my chin and neck, and I finally backed off, spitting out Luisa’s clitty.
“My boyfriend was so totally inept down there that I just had to pull him up by the ears before I got hurt,” I explained to the panting woman.
“S-so he didn’t make you come?”
I snorted, took another lick at Luisa’s popped-out button. “Not even close. But it made him even hornier. Because then he ripped his jeans open and pushed them down and laid his big bare boner right over my bare cunt.” I rose up in between Luisa’s legs and unbuttoned my jeans.
“He didn’t . . . penetrate you?”
“Are you kidding?” I said, shoving my jeans down to my thighs, revealing my baby-faced pussy. Luisa stared at it, licking her lips and trying to catch her breath. “I wouldn’t let him. I don’t want to get preggers, right? Besides, he was so excited by that time I doubt he’d have even been able to get it in before he got off.”
“Then . . .”
“He started, like, dry-humping me.” I plopped down on top of Luisa again, started pumping my hips, pussy on pussy with the woman.
She spread her legs so I was more directly over the top of her sex. Our mounds moved together, grinding against one another, lips sliding and clits gliding. I sucked on her tits, bumping cunts with the beautiful woman.
We moved faster and faster, pumping, rubbing. We liquefied together, her heated wetness against my wetness.
“And then . . . then what did he do?” I squashed her caramel humps together and wagged my tongue across both of her nipples at once. “And then,” I gulped, “he came – shooting right onto my tummy!”
I furiously pumped. Luisa grabbed on to my clenching little butt cheeks and wildly thrust her own pussy upwards. The wet, wanton friction was incredible, intense, making me shimmer out of control.
“Oh, Luisa, I’m . . . I’m . . .”
“Kaylee, I’m coming, too!”
We humped in a frenzy, pussy to pussy, rubbing and rubbing and . . . exploding. We shuddered together, squirting together, wantonly, wickedly coming together.
I snuggled my face against Luisa’s warm pillowy breasts afterwards, and she held me tight. “I sure appreciate you letting me tell you about all my boy problems,” I said, looking up at her and grinning.
She smiled back at me, stroking my hair. “Any time, Kaylee. I think we both learn a lot when we talk things over – about boys . . . and girls.”
She was so right about that, like everything else. Older women are so warm and wise, loving and knowledgeable. It pays to get real close to them.
Read more Lynn Lake stories in Lesbian Erotica Volumes 3, 4 and 8 and in Erotica Volumes 1 and 6
SEDUCING YOUR PEN FRIEND
Dominique James
Anneka knew she’d get along with Gemma – she just knew it. OK, they’d only correspon
ded by email and the occasional letter, but something clicked. She wasn’t at all nervous about going to Manchester to meet after nearly two years of friendship at a distance. Manchester would be so different from her home in Arvidsvik, a small seaside resort on an island well to the north of Gothenburg, in Sweden. But there were direct flights from Gothenburg – just over an hour’s drive away – to Manchester with a few airlines. Anneka chose KLM. She booked the flight and went home to pack. That gave her two days to prepare.
The weather she left in Sweden was cold and crisp. Gemma told her the weather in England would probably be dull and gray, but she packed for all eventualities.
The idea of meeting Gemma at last was exciting in all kinds of ways. She had a mental image of the British as reserved and a little timid in relationships, something she’d have to work on. As for herself, she’d always felt uninhibited and free, but had to face the possibility that the relationship would go nowhere. She needed to talk this through and a visit to her lesbian friends Hildë and Märta was her choice. They were about as free as a couple could be and great fun to be with.
At their chalet-style house in the hills away from the Arvidsvik, they welcomed her in with a cuddle and the offer of a glass of wine, waiting to hear all her hopes for her visit to England. The warmth of the place, the warmth of their company and the heat of the wine’s effects soon took their toll until all three were laughing and shrieking as an impromptu pillow fight broke out.
“I hope she likes me,” Anneka told them in a breathless break.
“She’d have to be a fool not to,” Märta assured her. “You’re much sexier than Hildë, for example.”
That renewed the fight until all three were again out of breath.
Anneka loved the abandoned way these two looked at life. Nothing fazed them; anything for a laugh.
“You think I’m sexy?” she asked.
Märta didn’t reply in words, instead leaning towards her and planting a kiss on her lips. “We show you,” she breathed. “Hildë, help.”
Anneka didn’t know what hit her. One moment they had been play-fighting, the next there were hands and lips all over her, feeling everywhere, kissing everywhere, undressing everything. Maybe it was the wine, but Anneka suddenly realized they were all naked, yet didn’t remember any of them undressing. Without any planning, they found themselves in a triangle on the floor, each girl kissing and licking the eager vulva of the girl whose thighs her face was buried between. It felt like an electrical circuit, where one would do something that caused her partner to jump and jerk, and that movement, convulsing her body, would make a reaction in the next girl in the chain, and so on until, like some human superconductor, the excitement all three shared was amplifying, growing in power and rapidly – and mutually – taking all three out of control. While none was reaching for her climax, they came nevertheless, each often promoting a similar reaction in the next. The wonder of climaxing because of one girl and causing a climax in another at almost the same moment was lost on none of them, and they made sure they swapped places so each had her turn eating, and being eaten by, each other.
Anneka felt hot, almost out of control. The wine helped. She took control of the situation, pushing the pair gently back on the bed and placing herself between them. Two women, two vaginas. A hand for each? Anneka pushed two fingers all the way in each, raising her thumb to slide across their clitorises, flicking backwards and forwards, her own hips screwing down into the bed, empty and unfulfilled. That wouldn’t do. She pulled her hand from Märta and slid up the bed, using her mouth now instead of her thumb, freeing her own hand to plunge inside herself, wanting to be filled to the hilt, pressing, pushing, corkscrewing. Then time to change. Change hands, so the juice slick from her went into Hildë, her face explored Märta and her own hand, oily from Hildë, sliding down her own body, leaving a wet trail where it traveled, until it found warmth between her legs again.
Anneka couldn’t help wondering why she’d never done this before; she’d been a one-on-one girl, but this was so perfect, so charged, that she thought three must be the perfect number. Or four? What about four? What if there were another girl there with them now? Images of Gemma invaded her senses. She closed her eyes and imagined where Gemma would fit in the melange. She idly wondered whether there was a four-girl version of the term ménage à trois. But the immediate situation gave no time for idle thought. Instead, she swapped hands and face again, vaguely hearing the moans of the two Swedish lovers up above her and trying to hear one as English. Her own hand morphed into Gemma’s and plunged deeper, the fact she was now using her less familiar left hand making it easier to believe it could be someone else. Gemma, teasing her, masturbating her, flicking that first finger across and around her bud and delving deep inside her hot cavern. It was Gemma’s name she cried out as her climax took her.
As she sat on board the aircraft prior to take-off she looked at Gemma’s photo in her wallet. She’d wondered whether Gemma had sent the picture – taken at a party with Gemma wearing an incredibly short minidress – to tease her in some way, but no – they’d not gone into that much detail of a personal nature. She’d responded with her own photo, emerging from the sea in Arvidsvik in a tiny white bikini, nervously aware just how much the bikini was showing, both in its size and from the semi-transparent nature of the material, demonstrating to anyone who cared to notice how cold the water had been.
Gemma hadn’t really made much comment about the picture – which could mean she had only glanced at it and had no real reaction or that she had a reaction but didn’t want to betray what it was.
Anneka sighed. What did she know about Gemma? Really know, that is? She was twenty-four, the same age as she was; she looked fantastic; she had her own flat in a place called Nantwich; she was a graphic designer for an advertising company; and she had a boyfriend called TJ.
And what did Gemma know about her? Her age, of course. Her job – a tourism consultant. More important was what she didn’t know; what she still had to discover and something which had never cropped up in their correspondence – Anneka was a lesbian. And Anneka was transfixed by Gemma.
She felt herself blushing and put the picture away.
She slept fitfully on the flight until the change of the engine noise announced their descent into Manchester Airport. All she knew of Manchester was that they had a famous football team, but she wasn’t particularly into football.
Once off the plane, she collected her bag from the carousel and wandered out through “Nothing to Declare”, her eyes settling on the crowd outside, searching for that one familiar face. Gemma wasn’t difficult to spot – she was waving animatedly to her and calling out.
Gemma kissed her hello – promising – and asked about the flight as they made their way to the multistory car park and found Gemma’s Mazda sports car.
“TJ was going to come but I only have two seats,” Gemma explained.
Anneka didn’t dare say she was glad TJ wasn’t there. She wanted to say she didn’t want to hear, meet or even know about TJ. She wanted to tell her friend she was jealous of TJ. But she stayed silent on that subject, answering Gemma’s questions as she drove away from the airport and watching the way Gemma’s skirt rode up to the tops of her legs and how her calf and thigh muscles tensed and relaxed as she drove.
Anneka wanted to stroke those thighs. To slide her hand between them. Hell, to slide her face between them. This was such sweet agony: desiring this woman even more than she had imagined yet knowing she was straight, unobtainable, unattainable. But sexy, alive, beautiful.
They followed the motorway for the best part of an hour, the mid-morning traffic far more busy than Anneka was used to. But then she saw a sign for Nantwich and the hustle and bustle of the motorway gave way to pleasant rural countryside. WELCOME TO NANTWICH announced their arrival in the town, which immediately impressed Anneka with its black-and-white Tudor buildings. Gemma made her way to the rear of one such building and parked.
“We’r
e here.” She smiled, cutting the engine.
She took Anneka’s case from the boot and led the way into the rear of the building, punching a code on the door panel and telling Anneka what it was in case she needed to get in at some point. Anneka had forced herself to cool down in the car, tearing her eyes reluctantly away from her beautiful friend’s figure, but she was kidding herself. As Gemma led the way upstairs, Anneka found her eyes alighting again on her, this time up her extremely short skirt. The weight of the case put her slightly off balance, meaning the skirt rose up until Anneka could see an edge of white-laced promise.
“I’ve put you in here,” Gemma told her, showing the second bedroom. “Is that OK?” She placed Anneka’s case on the bed.
No, I want to sleep with you! Anneka’s mind screamed, but she just said OK. She then asked her own question, not wanting the obvious answer. “You sleep in there with TJ?”
Gemma looked at her curiously. “No,” she replied. “TJ has his own place. Anyway, we’ve been having a few disagreements recently, so he’s not flavor of the month.”
A spark of hope?
“Mostly about you,” Gemma added.
“Me? What did I do?”
“He’s a typical man. He has this fantasy that we’ll all end up in bed together and he can screw us both.”
That came like a slap that set Anneka’s mind in turmoil. No way would she sleep with a man. No way. But . . . to go to bed and have sex with Gemma? Would it be worth a sacrifice?
Every nerve ending said no.
“Coffee?” Gemma had already changed the subject, but Anneka’s mind stayed put.
“Gemma,” she said at last. “Something I must tell you. Something I probably should have told you before my visit here. Something maybe you want me to go back home.”
The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotic Stories Page 36