“Very good,” the Boss said. “Very good work….”
BANDANNA KISS
Moxzi Lantana
I was barely out of Evanston, about to ride around Salt Lake City, when the smell and feel of the air changed and dark clouds filled the sky. It’s not a great idea to be on a Harley when heat lightning and high winds break loose. I could read the clouds enough to expect hail and heavy rain along with lightning. The rumble of my Harley was a whisper compared to what thundered in the sky.
I put away my sunglasses and zipped my leather jacket, tucking in my red bandanna that kept my neck from sunburning. I squinted to see as far ahead as I could, hoping to spot a rest stop. An air horn sounded as a custom-painted sleeper tractor pulling a flatbed trailer with a wrapped load passed me. I was surprised to see it wore the same charcoal and silver metallic paint and similar black pinstripes with silver leaf in flame designs as my Harley. It had to have been painted by the same artist. I raised my arm to salute only to see a woman driver smiling at me.
She pulled in front of me and over enough to look back at me again in her side mirror. I smiled at her but then saw a tie-down flap loose in the big wind that blew across her rig just before it shoved me a few inches toward the side of the road. A piece of her load looked askew and a tarp flapped loose.
I zoomed up beside her cab, pointed back to the trailer, and signaled for her to pull over. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a good place to stop on the interstate.
The truck driver used her cell phone and then looked over to me and pointed ahead. I gave her thumbs-up and slowed to keep an eye on her load from the other lane. Several miles ahead, she pulled over where there was a shoulder barely wide enough. I stopped to help.
It sure was a pleasure to watch her climbing on the trailer. She was tall, about an inch over my five-nine height, and had a somewhat tomboyish muscularity, yet was obviously feminine. Wind whipped her straight dark hair so it flipped and whirled just above her shoulders as she worked.
I felt a strange urge to jump up there and tie her hair with my bandanna but held back. I was surprised to feel I’d want to give in to more urges if I got closer to her. I’m no saint. I’ve had sex with women in recent years. But I hadn’t felt quite like this before.
She shouted down to me, “Have to make it to a truck stop to get the load resettled. Here.”
She tossed the end of the tie-down to me and I helped from the ground. I guess it was fair enough, but she sure did her share of looking me over while I got the tie-down reattached and worked the lever to secure the load.
Thunder and lightning startled us both. The storm was closing in fast.
She said, “There’s a rest stop a few miles ahead.”
I nodded and we both ran for our rides to try and beat the rain.
The rest stop had no covered areas to park under so I parked my Harley close to her rig, between it and another, hoping that would give it some protection against the storm.
By the time I dismounted, the truck driver came jogging around the front of her rig. I was pulling out the cover for my Harley. I guess I had a puzzled expression when she began to unhook my saddlebags.
She laughed and said, “Come on, you and your gear best join me in the cab. The radio says these are killer storms.”
Then she paused and gave me a smile so beautiful it was hard to imagine going anywhere but with her. Her eyes were so dark that I couldn’t really see the color, only reflections of light. I wanted to volunteer to explore that dark, sure I’d find the treasures of her within those shiny windows to her soul.
She climbed up and put my saddlebags in her cab. I handed my tank bag up to her. More gusts of wind blew in and a few spits of hail came down as I finished securing the cover on my Harley. She shut the door to her cab.
We looked at each other, grinned, and quickly took off running and laughing. We raced to use the restroom and get back to the rig before the storm got too bad.
We almost made it back to the rig before the downpour began. I took off my jacket and put it over her head and shoulders, so she stayed dry above the waist. We ran fast, but I still got soaked all over before we made it into her truck.
The sleeper cab was roomier than I expected, yet made intimate closeness unavoidable. She pulled out beach towels to sit on and bath towels for drying, then put my jacket on a hanger and wiped it dry. I pulled off my boots and socks and leaned over to dry my hair with a towel. When I glanced up, she was just looking at me, and giving me that beautiful smile again.
She said, “There’s really no sense in being shy about this, is there?” Then she unzipped her jeans and slipped them off right in front of my hungry face.
I inhaled the scent of rain and womanly warmth, and wanted to totally absorb both. I tried to keep my cool. Sort of. But she grabbed the hems of my jeans and pulled. What was I to do but unzip and let her tug them off me?
She unbuttoned her work shirt and let it slide off, revealing a camisole with lace trim. Then she looked at me expectantly.
What was this, a stripping game? A piece for a piece? Clothing, I mean, pieces of clothing. Well, I did have choices—the killer storms or sweet torture from this confident femme. I unbuttoned and removed my outer shirt. I liked hearing her breath of pleasure when I did.
Since it was her rig we were in, I wanted to be a respectful guest. But being the butch I am, it was time I began to lead this dance. I took off my T-shirt in a way that flexed my muscles, something that never fails to impress.
She licked her lips and drew her index finger over my chest, slowly making the shape of a big S and said, “Be my Super-woman.”
That did it. My breasts tingled where she’d finished the S, and all parts of me ignited with lust. Yeah, I was willing to rescue this lady trucker, all right.
My feather-stroking of both her arms from wrists to shoulders caused thrill bumps. I slipped the thin camisole straps over her shoulders and began slowly peeling down the lace that led to her cleavage. My hands gently grazed her breasts as I revealed them, then teased her midriff.
Her nipples reached for me as I leaned to pull the camisole over her hips and down off her legs. I massaged her feet, then ran my fingers back up her legs to hook her panties. I quickly whisked them off her. She liked the surprise and gave a sweet moan.
Thunder answered her. We both jumped and chuckled. The storm blew so hard, it shook the cab back and forth. The day outside had turned dark as night. Hail replaced the drumming rain with showers of banging and tapping bits of ice. We shrugged, grateful to be inside together.
She surprised me when I bent over to open one of my saddlebags. Suddenly, she gripped both my buns and kneaded my ass. Her fingers teased between my legs while she stripped off my briefs. I tossed some gloves and dams where we could reach them. When I turned back around to face her, I kept something hidden behind my back.
Her eyebrows bounced up and down, and her grin made her eyes shimmer with glee. I laughed and tried not to blush. This woman had more spunk than any I’d met. But that just made me more determined to be her hero.
I thrust my hips forward and rotated them suggestively. She caressed my belly and mound with her open hand. I turned my rear toward her again, so I could insert the shorter end of my FeelDoe into my pussy, leaving the longer end for me to make love to her. I love the freedom of no harness, not to mention getting some extra thrill inside me while I pump my ever-erect purple cock into another woman. Not that I need any added equipment to give a good fucking.
Curiosity got the best of her before I turned back to face her. She tried to look around me, but I teased her by pulling away to hide my surprise for her. She reached around me from the back and discovered my cock. I thought she might lift us both right up through the roof of the sleeper cab.
“Ooh, the dyke of my dreams—and accessories included!”
We both laughed as we tumbled around in gentle wrestling for who would be on top. I won and straddled her legs, but then raised up on my knees. That way
, she could sit up and take my cock in her mouth, if she wanted to. She admired it and me, then swirled her tongue around the tip and sucked it into her mouth. Her stroking all over my lower body while she sucked my cock drove me wild. I caressed her too. I swear she grew more beautiful as our trust and intimacy deepened.
I realized we hadn’t even kissed, so I eased my cock out of her mouth. We both tried to go slowly, gently kissing at first, intending to gradually make love. Passion took over. We kissed not only with lips, but with our whole bodies.
Like two wild women, we both quickly moved so that I was between her legs, which were bent and close to her chest. I trembled from holding back, trying to not rush things too much for her, but she grabbed my cock with one hand and guided it and pulled me to her with the other.
She pleaded, “Please, take me!”
So I did. I filled her with my cock, quick and deep, the whole thing in one plunge. She glowed like the best of life had just begun as I was fucking her.
The wind and rain drowned outside sounds, but her moaning and squealing filled the cab. She thrilled me to the core. I found myself wishing the storm wouldn’t stop. We sure didn’t.
Somehow, she caught me off guard and separated me from my cock, which she kept inside her pussy. Next thing, she was on top of me and had taken my bandanna off my neck. She teased that she would tie me up with it if I resisted. What could I do but surrender?
She began hand stroking and lip kissing me all the way from my neck to my clit. Then she squeezed my ass, rubbed my belly, and worked her lips and tongue all over my pussy. She didn’t stop but worked more magic with her hands, finding all my favorite spots.
I’m sure not one to admit doing any squealing, but she might tell a different story. I will admit that I wondered whether she often drove through Wyoming and nearby. I considered how frequently I could get away on a ride so we could meet up.
We made love throughout the storms. We didn’t stop until her cell phone rang maybe half an hour after the day had turned sunny again. She hung up her phone and looked at the clock. I knew she had to get back on the road, get her load resettled, and try to make up some time. She looked like she wanted to find a way to stay longer.
I did too. But I kissed her softly, hugged her close, then swatted her rear to get us moving. While we were getting dressed to get back on the road, I realized we hadn’t even given our names. I wondered if I should just leave it that way. I couldn’t be sure how she would want it left between us after such a passionate leap as we’d taken, but I still found her irresistible.
First endings are always a little awkward. I decided to leave my business card tucked between her bed sheet and pillow, hoping she’d find it in the evening and give me a call.
Outside, I uncovered my Harley and loaded my gear while she checked over her rig. When she stopped beside my Harley, she looked like a dream come true in fresh denim and jersey and my red bandanna.
“My name is Moxzi Lantana,” I said as I hugged her one more time.
She whispered, “Kylie,” and kissed me on the cheek.
I took a breath but stopped short of asking for her phone number. Did I see her eyes tearing up? I couldn’t be sure.
So I only said, “See you on the road sometime, Kylie.”
She jogged around the front of her rig and I mounted my Harley. Both our rides rumbled to life about the same time, but I waited and let her leave first. Figured it wouldn’t hurt if I followed her until she got to a truck stop that could fix her load.
Less than twenty miles down the road, the signs indicated the exit she would take. I considered stopping, but didn’t want to make her feel pressured. I hoped she’d use my phone number after she’d found my card.
We were a half mile from her exit when she waved to me to pull up beside her cab. I did and saw her arm stretched out, holding my red bandanna out the window. She shook it at me, like I should grab it. So I pulled closer and stood up on my Harley and reached. She let go of it as soon as I grabbed for it and blew me a kiss. I caught both.
I stuffed the bandanna in my pocket and waved to her as she turned off the highway. I rode for another hour or so before I stopped for gas and food. The setting sun was hot on my neck, so I reached into my pocket for my bandanna. My cell phone bumped my knuckles and again, I wished I had asked for her number. Her scent on the fabric made me want to taste her and touch her again.
I got back on my Harley and looked at the highway, kind of hoping to see her rig rolling by. But there was hardly any traffic.
When I stretched out my bandanna to fold it for wearing, I saw something dark on one edge. I held it up in the light.
Written in black laundry marker was, Kylie Demarest 1-555-142-4673.
I entered the number in my cell phone and tucked the bandanna back in my pocket. I’d make sure Kylie and I were tucked in together again soon.
FLIPPING THE SCRIPT
D. Alexandria
When Quinn walked through the door that Friday evening, her eyes widened with surprise before my hand forcefully grabbed her by the neck, holding her still as I slammed the door shut. Instinctively, her light brown eyes clouded over with anger from pride, but she remained silently still, her lips pressed into a thin line, nostrils flaring as she breathed heavily, and I knew if she could, she’d throttle me in an instant. But of course she wouldn’t.
“Good boy,” I said softly, my own eyes filled with amusement over seeing her struggle to act accordingly. And no amount of pride or anger could hide the flash of pleasure that crossed her face at hearing my words.
My free hand quickly went to her pants, unzipping them, and I reached inside, inwardly smiling because she had remembered my request before she left for work that morning and must have strapped on in the car.
“Nice and hard for me, huh?” I said as I pulled her dick out, holding it firmly. I watched her tremble, knowing I was stroking it. I stepped closer, my lips to her ear. “Boys like you are always hard, isn’t that so? Always fucking horny like you don’t know better.”
“No…” she started to say, then she stopped herself, and I knew her heart sank as soon as my head started to shake. Unless she had permission, I never wanted her to speak.
“Knees,” I said simply, and like a good boy, she got down.
“Follow me.” I walked into the living room, knowing she was crawling behind me. It wasn’t what I had planned, but I knew it would give her the chance to take in the view of me since I hadn’t instructed her to keep her head down.
Unlike other submissives we’ve met, I’m not required by Quinn to dress in special costumes for our play. Tonight, I wore a blue satin sleeveless top, calf-length black-and-white pinstripe skirt with a slit up the back to my knees, and black open-toed, three-inch heels. My hair was pulled into a tight twist, and my makeup and jewelry were minimal. This was the look she loved most on me, and how I used to dress before I stopped working when we decided to have a family. She preferred the conservative look and I loved her for it, since I couldn’t see myself wearing corsets or those PVC suits.
When I reached the living room, I moved to the sofa and sat down. Quinn crawled around to face me, remaining on her hands and knees. I gave her a stern look before crossing my legs, the top foot hovering a few inches from her face.
“Stand and undress.”
I could see her tense as she rose to her feet, but she quickly removed her work shirt and pants, tossing both beside me on the sofa. When she was finished, she stood before me wearing nothing except for her boxers and the strap underneath, the dick still poking through the flap. This was the only clothing I permitted her to wear, since she sometimes couldn’t deal with seeing the leather that bound her dick to her.
“Good boy.” My eyes met hers, and she looked relieved. “Knees.”
She was back down, this time knowing to keep her back straight and her hands clasped behind her. I watched her, relishing in the knowledge that I had her to myself for the next two days, although she didn’t know
it yet. The kids were at my mother’s for the weekend, so I had free rein to torture and enjoy her at my leisure. I reached out and gently caressed her cheek, a move that made her body shudder and she actually dared a smile. But it was quickly gone when I grabbed her hair, snapping her head back so I could look down at her. At the same time my other hand had closed around one breast, pinching her nipple.
“I am in the mood to torture you, boy, and you have no choice but to accept it, because it pleases me.” I gently licked my lips. “Do you understand?”
Her face was surprisingly calm as she nodded.
“Smart boy,” I leaned forward to press my lips to hers, but stopped about half an inch away. I could feel her breath and knew she could feel mine. We mirrored the deep desire to feel what a kiss would do to us right now, but I was the only one who could attempt it. I parted my lips more; breathing hot air against hers, before I quickly ran my tongue along her bottom lip, then her top, coming full circle. I was about to pull my face away, and she sensed it, pushing her face toward mine, and our lips touched.
Despite the fact that the kiss sent shivers all the way down to my toes, I pulled my face away before my hand shot out and connected with her cheek.
Quinn gasped from shock, but couldn’t fully react before my hand was on her neck for the second time that night, squeezing tightly. I could feel myself growing wetter at seeing her struggle to breathe under the pressure.
“Now, we both know you know better than that.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but I heard nothing as she cast her eyes downward, remembering I hadn’t given her permission.
“Since we both know that you know better, I have to assume that you did that deliberately; blatantly disobeying me. And disobeying me only hurts you, my boy.” My other hand was again on her breast, my nails now biting into her nipple. “And it’s a shame. I was so looking forward to a sweet torture”—my lips were at her ear, and I whispered softly—“and then letting you fuck the living daylights out of me. But since you want to be a little punk, thinking you can do whatever you want, you lose out tonight, my love.”
Best Lesbian Erotica 2009 Page 21