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Me and Lizza, Part One

Where Lizza goes, I follow.

She’s not like me.  She’s the most beautiful girl I know.  She has hair as blonde as highway grass.  She wears terrible clothes and is still the epitome of cute.  She smiles at people and they give her everything she wants, except she only wants adventure.  She eats whatever she wants and fits into her size two yoga pants.

She’s wonderful.

I’m gangly and I lean forward too much when I walk.  I own two pairs of shoes: sandals for summer, hiking boots for winter.  My eyes are different colors, which I can’t even name.  I never lost my high school acne.  I smile at people and they ask me if I’ve thought about brushing my teeth.

I’m awful.

But Lizza loves me.

So I follow her into the musty crawlspace.  It smells like dead rats, just the smell we had to cover up with incense when I was a kid.  In college, my MCU boyfriend Kato burned a lot of incense.  He said it was for sex trances.  I was still pretty sure it was to cover up the smell of rats.

MCU wasn’t my school, by the way.  MCU is mutual cover-up.  We were both gay and not really ready to traumatize our families.  He met Reis around the same time I met Lizza, so our breakup was hones to god mutual.

She’s squeezing my hand and I’m here and now—she’s saying it, too: “Here and now, babe.”

“Sorry.”  The fog starts clearing, though.  When she first figured it out, Lizza insisted on setting a mental safeword for me.

“When I say ‘here and now,’” she’d said, her limeade eyes glowing across the dorm room at me, “you have to stop worrying.  It’s my promise that it’ll be okay.  Okay?”

That was when I’d known I needed her.  “Here and now,” I tell her, “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?  We don’t have to do this.”

“I just—a crawlspace?  Couldn’t we take a swim in a nasty community pool or something instead?”

“Bluejane,” she says.  I hate her for using my favorite nickname. “I think it’s where the ring went.”

We both heave a sigh.  Her mom came to visit us last week, mostly to scold.  Her ring disappeared just before she left.  She walked out of the door calling me a thief at the top of her voice.

“So you want me to go in there for your mom.”

“No,” Lizza says, somehow turning around in the tunnel, because she’s got my face in her hands.  I melt.  I always melt.  “For me.”

Every time she kisses me, I want to write her name a thousand times in a notebook, surrounded by hearts and wedding bells.  She’s that intoxicating.  We’ve been kissing for eleven years.

Shy as fox, I pinch my lips together and intertwine my fingers with hers.  “Lizza, we’re almost those thirty-somethings.  We’re supposed to hire nice muscley men to do this stuff.”

She ponders that, tilting her head and catching her lip under her just-too-big front teeth.  I stare at her lips.  She giggles.  “You really wanna spend a little bit of savings just so you don’t have to go under the house?”

“Absolutely,” I say.  “Mostly because I want to go inside and cuddle the fuck out of you until you want to eat me out.”

“Oh.”  It’s too dark to see it, but I hear her blush.  Her silhouette gets slinky and her voice is naughty-girl, and if I had a tail, well, it’s wagging.  “Do it.  Wait.  This is why you were downloading Game of Thrones this morning.”

I start crawling backwards.  I can see my hair frizzing out of my ponytail.  “Maybe.”

“You know I love you for many reasons.  This is merely the most obvious at this moment.”

“Come kiss me,” I say.  I’m out of the crawlspace.  The fresh air smells amazing and I don’t even throw pebbles at the squirrel chattering on our oak tree.  I run to the door, breathless like recess.  I love that I hear her feet swishing in the grass behind me.  We never mow.  We’re too busy kissing.

Where I go, Lizza follows.

I think about this every day.  Four thousand, three hundred and eighteen times, at least, I think about why Lizza follows me.  Not one of those times did I think of a good answer.  But she does: through the grocery store.  “You have magical veggie-picking powers.  Hippy cred to your momma.”  Into the house.  “I can never get the stupid door unlocked.  Also my brother always told me as a kid that the Skog would get me if I went in first, because he wanted to be first.  I have no idea what the Skog is.”  To church on the three big ones, Easter, Christmas Eve, Christmas.  “Look, it doesn’t hurt to bribe all the deity-things, and if there’s a one reason why I might believe in a loving god, Bluejane, it’s you.”

Me.  The androgynous tangly geek spending half her time watching anime and Invader Zim and the other half learning about marine biology.  Somehow, we were stuck together in a dorm room, and she stuck with me for a year before I found out she was gay.  It didn’t take me long to remember I was, too.

That first night, we slept together.

That wasn’t first.  First, we lay in the dark in our bras and underwear, staring at the red numbers on her alarm clock.  She reached for me and my whole body was on fire where her skin pressed against mine.

“There’s a reason I’m doing this,” she whispered against my forehead.  “There’s a reason I say what I’m about to say.”

I held my breath.  I probably felt like a dog on the Fourth, I was so tense.  I thought of all the worst ways it could go.

“I love you, Jane Lee, because you really, truly don’t give a fuck.”

I never swore back then.  I thought she was angry, so I started to cry.  She sort of laughed, sort of said, “Aww,” and hugged me tight.  Her hands wandered up to the back of my head and sifted through my oily hair.

“No, Bluejane.  Okay, I want to be serious, but that’s what I’ve called you in my head all this time, and I’ve really wanted to call you that out loud, too, but—I didn’t know if you loved me.  Now it doesn’t matter.”  She kissed my forehead.  It wasn’t the first time she’d ever done that, but it was the first time it made me tremble.  “I’m telling you anyway, you beautiful girl.  Well!”  She squeaked with delight and my arms squeezed involuntarily, because my heart seized up when she laughed like that.  “There’s another thing I’ve waited too long to say.  No, listen to me.”

I did.  I could barely believe my ears.

“I’ve always thought I was good at not caring what people think, and then I met you.  First thing I noticed about you was your Zim notebook.  Really,” she insisted when I frowned, “and I thought it was really…I couldn’t believe it.  Cute.  I thought it was adorable, and amazing.  I started following your lead sometimes, speaking my mind and really not caring.  Then I realized you were adorable, and amazing, always there across the room from me.  Especially when you came under the blankets.”

Ohhhh.

I started to shake again.  “Shit,” I said in a tiny voice.  I never swore.  I wasn’t angry.  The tears started up.

Lizza put her face very, very close to my cheek.  We just barely didn’t touch.  Her lips burned my ear.  “I love you, Bluejane.  I love you and everything you do, and you should never be ashamed of yourself.”

She began to kiss her way down my cheek.  Her tongue took my tears away, one by one, like a soft sponge.  She found my lips and I drank her in.  She had a little bit more spit than I expected.  I didn’t know what was hotter, my face or my desire to put her nipples in my mouth.

“Lizza,” I breathed into her flowery hair.

“Mmm,” she said.  She kissed my neck now, my collarbone now.  I braced when she kissed where the car accident had broken the bone, but she was so gentle.  My chest heaved under her.

Without another word, I reached behind her back and flipped her bra clasp open.  The shape and lace fell away and I saw her breasts as if I had never seen them before.  They were mine now.  I hadn’t seen them that way before.

They swung away from her, the perfect size for my hands.  I fumbled like a bad receiver but I got a nipple to my mouth.  I imagined what I would want her to do with mine and I did it.

She rose and fell over me like a snake.  I kept a determined hold on her breast and flicked my tongue in every direction.  She was stronger than I’d thought.  She lowered herself on top of me slower than I could see, and then my bra loosened too.  Her hands didn’t stop their slide down my back.  I tugged her panties off too.

For a while, we didn’t really move.  I wanted to remember how it felt to be a lesbian for the first time for—forever, I guess.  I thought very hard about how I would describe the moment.  I thought about Lizza’s exact smell: lavender lotion, cornbread, the air after a rain in May.  That’s what I thought about hardest.

She began to slide down me like a fireman’s pole.  I still couldn’t believe what was happening, so I let her.  She kissed above my bellybutton.  Kissed my bellybutton.  Kissed my little lumpy tummy.  Kissed above my hairline.  Kissed the hairy places, and then spread my lips with her fingers.  The warm, hard tip of her nose touched my wetness.

She made the sound again: “Mmm.”  Then her velvety tongue began to move across me in tiny strokes.  In my head, in my heart, I promised her everything.

Sometimes, Lizza lifted her head just long enough to say, “I love you, Bluejane.”  She always went right back to me.  Sometimes she slipped a finger inside me where I was wettest.  Mostly she sucked me and licked me and stroked me with her impossibly soft tongue.

I was afraid to come.  Just at the right moment, she said, “Come, or else,” and I had to.  I did a lot of coming under covers, but this was a new level of tender satisfaction.

I heaved and squirted.  I arched my back while I hoped I wasn’t splashing her chin.  I heard Lizza’s perfect lips smack together and her giggle filled my ears as she tumbled forward onto me.  “You are delicious.”

I touched her over and over.  I kept trying to think of ways to assure myself she was real, but only her skin satisfied me.  “Oh,” I said.  Shame was the most natural reaction.  “Do I need to—”

She put a finger to my lips, then kissed me like a butterfly.  I tasted my lips and my own orgasm—unafraid, I thought.  I don’t care what she thinks.  “I don’t mind that,” I said.

“Then whenever you’re ready,” Lizza said, “we’ll see if you like how I taste too.  But I don’t care if it never happens.  I want to taste you and kiss you forever.”

“Okay,” I said.  I didn’t feel afraid with her.

She pulled the blanket up around us and tucked it beneath my other side.  “Forever is a long time,” she said.  It was the only time that night she sounded anything but happy.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever had,” I said.  It was true.  “Until further notice, I’m going to keep it.”

“Okay,” Lizza said, wriggling like a puppy in my arms.  “Lucky me.”

Lucky me, I think.  Every day, for four thousand, three hundred and eighteen days, I’ve thought about these words.  I still can’t believe it.

She’s in the house now, too, shutting the door.  I walk backwards towards the couch, watching.  She loves to pounce.  “Cheat,” Lizza says, and laughs and pounces anyway.  We tumble onto the couch in a tangle.

I squirm so I’m behind her all the way.  I’m usually the big spoon.  “Consider yourself cuddled the fuck out of.”

“That’s a terrible sentence.”

“Shut up.”

She giggles and I squeeze her tight to me.  I feel so protective of my little Lizza.  I’m small, too, but I’m wiry.  My brothers forced me to learn how to fight.  She only had one brother, and he was always sick, so she knows how to be gentle.

She settles in.  My fingers just barely roll her nipple between them through her shirt as she flips on the Apple TV and we start debating what we are least against watching.

To be continued…

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Booking Her Passage

This is part 2 of an TBD-part continual story!  You can check out part 1 here.  Thanks for reading!

Venice could barely breathe as she gently pushed the library’s heavy double doors closed and turned the deadbolt.  She stood on her tiptoes and peered into the nearly-empty parking lot.  Parents ran in circles, rounding up sleepy but determined youth shrieking about the library’s puppet collection.

The quiet, scholarly young man who had kept to his corner all evening caught Venice looking and raised the corner of his mouth in thanks.  His mane of curly black hair was almost irresistible, but she’d managed.  Venice blushed and dropped back on her heels, reassuring herself that the deadbolt was secure.

Now.  She took a deep breath, turning to face her library.  Shelves heavy with knowledge strained towards the ceiling, and the silence made her quickened breathing loud and obvious.  Tonight it was just her and her library.

Clever girl, she thought, crazy, stupid, clever girl.

Because it wasn’t really just her and her library, at least not for long.  She looked down at her watch.  Quarter after eight.  Just enough time left to straighten up and finish her day job, and then the real work would begin.

Tonight was the second indulgence.  Venice had spent a lot of time justifying the original act to herself—the first time was a fluke, a taste to drive her wild.  What she wanted now was a feast.  She wanted to be filled with cocks, with cum.  She was hungry and she wanted to sate her appetite.  This, she told herself, was just sexual release.  Just an exploration of her sexual identity.

She was not, she told the insistent little voice, a whore.

Her gaze fell to the stack of unpaid bills on her desk and she flushed with irrational anger.  A librarian’s salary was barely enough to keep the lights on.  If she did have to turn elsewhere for additional income, well—that was her business.  The little voice could go shove it.

She bagged up the trash and checked her phone.  She dumped all the paper waste cans into one and checked her phone.  One message this time, confirming the library address.  Her face hot, she pocketed the phone, heaved the trash over her shoulder, and scooped up the paper waste can on her way towards the back door.

Venice was just tossing the trash into the dumpster when the sound of a pebble kicked across asphalt made her whirl around.  She screeched as she stared through the shaggy black hair of the scholarly young man.

He threw up his hands, clearly realizing he had nearly traumatized her.  “Totally didn’t mean this to come off like it is right now.”

Venice clapped a hand to her heart.  “What, fucking creepy?  Jesus.  Only rapists and how-to-catch-a-whatever cops hide in the bushes like that.”

“I wasn’t hiding in the bushes,” he protested, but then dropped his hands to his sides with a half-chuckle.  “Okay.  This is not going better.  Let me try again?”

“All right,” Venice said warily, because she couldn’t deny the tingling his earnest face summoned between her legs.  She folded her arms and tried to strike an intimidating pose.  “Your best shot.  Go.”

Hiding his relieved grin, the young man approached with a hand extended.  His brown eyes barely glinted through his mop of hair.  “Hey.  I’m Tavis.  I stayed for six hours today because I kept looking at you.  I looked because you’re beautiful and you love books and, well, I’m a sucker for those things.  But I couldn’t get up the courage to say anything inside, so—I decided to gamble on your being attracted to creepers who wait for you to take out the garbage.  Again, that’s Tavis, and the number’s two-four-three, seven-seven-zero-nine, in case the, uh, the police need it.”

He stood sort-of grinning with his hand out.  In the twilight, he was irresistible.  Venice took a deep breath and giggled.  It was time she unleashed her own awkward demons on a stranger, come what may.

She took the tips of his fingers and shook them.  “A pleasure, Tavis.  I’m Venice. In a sec I’ll text you my number because I’m already rather fond of you, but you should probably know that I’m staying late tonight because I’ve arranged a gangbang in the archive section.  You’re welcome to join.”  She rushed through the last sentence with all the breathlessness and gravity of a child offering their greatest possession to a friend.

Now it was her turn to gaze solemnly, hopefully at the other.  Tavis’s head began to tilt slowly until he was looking at her at a 90-degree angle.

“Wow.”

“Wow what?” Venice said, snappier than she had intended.

Tavis raised his hands in defense again.  “Wow, I’ve never met a woman so brave as to actually live out her fantasies.”

“Oh.”  She dropped her guard, and with it the paper waste can.

“Now,” Tavis said, rubbing the back of his mop, “while I would love to be a stud and join you, what I’m actually facing is a two-year drought and probably the lowest self-esteem of my life.  Can I take you out on Friday night instead?  After your shift of course.  I wouldn’t dare take such a beautiful woman from her books.”

Venice was blushing furiously, and her now-free hand twitched towards her pantline.  “Yes,” she said, “you may.”

“Oh thank god.”  Tavis passed the back of his hand across his brow, leaving just a faint sheen under his hair.

He looked ready to say something else when Venice added, “But won’t you come in?  I mean—if this is how we’re going to start something, then maybe you should know.  What I do.  Sometimes.”  Venice’s mind churned.  She knew she could be ruining her best chance at serious stability, but—her newfound lust (and with it, courage) demanded that she be true to herself.

He hesitated.  She watched him process, biting her lip as he turned slightly to look at his dumpy pickup truck.

Finally, he sucked in his breath.  “All right. But promise me,” he said, trying very hard to be stern, down to the wagging finger, “that I won’t embarrass myself.”

“I can’t promise that,” Venice said, relief giving her the spunk to pop forward and kiss his cheek, “but I can promise you ought to have a good time.”

She led him through the back door.  In the half-light, Tavis caught her wrist and stole their first kiss.  Venice’s whole body lit up with heat as she returned it, sucking in his smoky breath.

—-

The others arrived almost together.  Venice sprinted across the library to answer the tandem knocks at the back door and found that the beefy ex-football player and the hunky construction worker were exchanging grunts about their alleged reasons for being there.

Furiously tucking her hair behind her ear, Venice pointed to each of them.  “You’re both here for the same reason.”

“Ahh,” the ex-football player said, his dark eyes sliding up and down her body as his equally dark hands rubbed together.  “Let’s do this then.”

The construction worker simply nodded.  Men of few words, Venice thought, shivering with anticipation.  She led them inside and to the archive section, where Tavis was sitting on the floor, a book spread across his crossed legs.  He leaped to his feet and offered both the newcomers a hand.

“Tavis,” he said.  They looked at his hand, at each other, then over at Venice.

“No names,” she said, wincing.

“Ahhh.  Ehhhh.  That’s my stage name.”  He grasped his crotch with a cheesy, toothy grin as if demonstrating the size of his package.  Venice dove between him and the newcomers and held his wrists.

“Shhhh,” she said.  “Just—they’re here to fuck me.”  Hearing herself say it aloud made the anticipation harder to contain.  “So help them out and just fuck the shit out of me, okay?  And I’ll tell you about my childhood and where I went to school and all of that stuff later.”  She touched his jawline with affection that shocked her with its strength.

Tavis nodded furiously and drew a line across his jugular.  “No talking.  Just humping.  Got it.”

Venice rolled her eyes with a smile and turned around, right into the grasp of the construction worker.  He raked his gaze up and down her body, her upper arms clasped in his sun-cracked hands, then he spun her around and slowly undid the zipper on her skirt.  Venice froze as his fingers explored past the thick black fabric to the insubstantial lace of her underwear.

Soon the dark hands of the ex-football player were exploring her pale legs.  Venice knelt down on the ground and presented her face to both the newcomers.  The construction worker flipped his dark hair out of his face as he slid his hard cock out of his pants.  He rested it on her cheek for a moment, then slapped her with it.  The black man did the same; they took turns leaving tiny stinging welts on her cheeks.

Venice slipped her hand past the welcoming lace and fingered herself.  She was already sticky and throbbing, and even a delicate touch made her spasm as the cocks slapped her face.  Abruptly, the black man grabbed her face and twisted it towards him, offering her the tip of his cock.  She flicked out her tongue and traced the circumference of the swollen head, her eyes rolling back to seek his approval.  His lip curled in response and he shoved her face away.

Out of the corner of her eye, Venice saw Tavis.  He was hunched awkwardly, sometimes shifting as if to move forward and join in, but every time he hesitated.  She desperately tried to catch his gaze; finally she did, and gave him as encouraging a smile as she could with a dick between her lips.

He moved forward, stop-start, stop-start, until finally he was close enough to press his palms to her breasts.  His entire body relaxed as if an electrical current had just been switched off and let his limbs be, and with a shuddering sigh he leaned into his newfound task.  He rolled her nipples between skillful fingers and soon Venice’s hand was working over time on her clit as she was yanked towards orgasm.

 She gasped for air and turned to take the other cock in her mouth.  The black man only let her suck that for a moment before he jerked her off her feet and laid her down on the ground.  Whimpering, Venice flattened her legs open, lotus-on-her-back, and was grateful for those yoga classes, somewhere in the back of her foggy head.

A huge cock teased her entrance with just its tip and she leaned into it, moaning.  It lingered there, stroking her to silkiness, then suddenly retreated.  Venice vocalized her displeasure, but was swiftly silenced as the construction worker swatted her face and then dropped a fistful of balls on her face.

Venice’s tongue swirled between them; she nearly gagged on the smell of Axe soap but was grateful he had showered.  Meanwhile, the cock tip had been replaced by a heavy pair of lips, mercilessly sucking her clit and mouthing her whole pussy.  A thick, muscular tongue dove between her lower lips and sought another orgasm, a wave made more powerful by the heavy palm that ground into her clit.

Again, delicate fingers descended and teased her nipples.  Venice arched her back, scrunching her face into wrinkled pleasure.  “Fuck me,” she said, breaking the otherwise wordless soundtrack, then realized they were alone and cried out, “Fuck me!”

Someone obeyed.  Someone hard and ridged and powerful, slamming into Venice’s pussy with the enthusiasm of a stallion.

Her eyes fluttered open and she saw Tavis.  But it wasn’t Tavis. The same mop of hair, the same brown eyes, but he seemed to steam with dark heat and a fiery single-mindedness that left Venice breathless.  She arched her feet, her pussy in the air, and he reached beneath her and grabbed each ass cheek in his long but assuring hands.  He hissed, and the air by her ears crackled.  Venice squeaked and wriggled into his crotch, grinding her nub into the coarse hairs beneath his belly.

She came so explosively that she vaulted off of his cock.  His hands were still on her ass.  Just as the lights began to dim in her vision, Tavis pulled her back down, smeared her juices downward, and eased into her ass.  A thrill lanced through Venice.  “Tavis—fuck,” she said.  Again: “Fuck fuck FUCK—”

He slid her up and down his shaft, and his ridges rippled pleasure through her ass so she could feel every fiber of muscle, quivering with readiness.  She opened her eyes enough to see Tavis stretching out his neck to take the black cock deep in his throat before the construction worker blocked her view, straddling Tavis to bring his cock down to her pussy.

His eyes, too, were brown, but they glinted with shards of sunlight from his hours outside.  His rough hands were not gentle.  He jerked her on his cock, disregarding the strain on her asshole, which sent rivers of ecstasy gushing down the dick deep inside her.  Three men moaned, each their own sound: throaty and angry; dreamy and determined; clanging and earthy.

Venice’s voice lashed across them all, culminating in a shriek that might have been a name.  Her nails curled like claws into the carpet and her spasming anus squeezed an orgasm out of Tavis’s rigid cock.  He gagged with the intensity and his throat made the black man come, his hand descending to palm Tavis’s curly head of hair.  The slick walls of Venice’s pussy swallowed the construction worker’s cock and coaxed free a hot load of thick cum.

Slowly, they sagged and extricated themselves.  Venice lay on her back on the wet carpet until she heard the door closed twice.  Then, in a tiny voice that shook out of her trembling body, she hoped out loud: “Tavis?”

“I’m here,” came his voice, very close to her ear.

She reached up without looking and found his hair.  Her knuckles collected his curls.  “Oh good,” she said.  “I hoped you wouldn’t run away.“

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Sensational

Felix came up behind Hayley and pulled the blindfold on before she could protest.  She squealed and tugged at it.  "What the hell is this?“

He put a finger to her lips.  "Shhh, I wanna try something.  Won’t you play along?”

“Ugh, Felix.”  Hayley put her fingers under the edge of the blindfold and almost lifted it up, but Felix batted her hand down.  "Why do you insist on this shit?  It’s not like…oh my god.“

She went rigid as Felix touched her inner thigh, under her raggedy jeans shorts, with icy fingers.  It was cold and wet and overwhelming.  He grinned at her stunned face, her eyes still concealed by the band.  "How’s that?  You like that?”

“Oh my god.”  She squealed and twitched away, but her mouth was laughing.  "What is that?“

"An ice cube.”  Felix withdrew it from her shorts and lifted it to her lips.  She recoiled, but then leaned towards it, lips puckered.

“Do it again.  On my pussy this time.”  Now Hayley was getting into it; she pinched her legs together, pulled off her shorts, and squatted deep into the couch so she was exposed for Felix’s ministrations.

He reached for his bowl of unusual sensations and rested it against Hayley’s knee.  She poked at it. “And what’s that?”

“A few different things I want to try,” Felix said, intently focused on the ice cube he was running up her leg.  "With the blindfold on.  Just focus on how it feels.“

"Okay,” Hayley said.  She laughed nervously.  "I don’t know how to do this.“

"What, enjoy how things feel?”  Felix leaned in to nibble at her ear, making her blush and tuck her chin on the opposite shoulder.

“Well – yeah.  I’m not used to being pleasant to my body.  That’s for other people.”  She had a hitch in her voice.  Felix stroked her face, his mask of sexual determination slipping.

“Baby. Just enjoy this.”

“Okay.”

He ran the ice along her skin, up, up and over her thigh, to rest on her mound.  Ever so slowly, he slid the ice downward, and in small circles.  The water trickled in between her pussy lips and dribbled towards her entrance, until she was gasping and her pussy lips were numbed.  "Something else!  Oh my god.  That’s so strange.“

Felix chuckled and popped the ice cube into his mouth, kissing Hayley deeply.  She wriggled her tongue around his, chasing the cold muscle.

Next, Felix chose a feather from the bowl.  He started on Hayley’s heels, calloused from working long weeks on her feet, and worked his way up and inside her legs.  Her face twisted with amusement and concentration.  "Is that…a feather?”

“Good job,” he said, lifting her shirt and taunting her nipples with the end of the feather.  Hayley moaned and finally pushed her shirt back down.

“Agh!  Stimulation.  Okay.  What else.”

He persisted with the feather, making little circles around her clit.  "Patience, baby, you have to learn to take it.  Hold your breath if you think you can’t stand it anymore…“

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The Actress Next Door

“Really.  Men.  I’m so fucking sick of them.”

I watch as June wrenches the bouquet of roses out of her mailbox and crushes them under her Crocs.  She throws up her hands, her tight midriff showing under her baggy grey sweatshirt.  She looks up, catching me watching, and smiles.  "Hey, Mercy!“

I hate when she addresses me by name, because I have no idea how to address her.  "Hi, Miss Maples,” I mutter.  Her porn name sounds awkward coming out of my mouth, but she’s never shared her real name.  Too much risk in the business.

She laughs, tossing her silky ponytail over her shoulder.  "For the love of God, will you just call me June?  We’re all ladies here, we can handle first names.“  She strides over to me, leggy and inviting.  "I made extra lemonade, and if you refuse it, I’ll consider you a bad neighbor.”

My shy smile nearly splits my face.  I’ve only dreamed of being acknowledged by women as beautiful as June.  "But it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood,“ I say, immediately regretting it and feeling like the ill-fitted nerd I am, "so won’t you be mine?”

June’s face flutters, and my stomach churns, but it doesn’t seem to faze her.  "Of course,“ she says, and extends her hand.  I slip mine into hers, my whole body tingling with giddiness.  "Let’s go spike some lemonade and sunbathe. I’m feeling girly today.”

Inside her house, I feel entirely out of place.  Everything is quality, even the drapes, and compared to my relative bachelor pad it’s like a palace.  An even worse realization hits me when I remember I have nothing to sunbathe in.

“Psshhh.  You’re basically my size.”  She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me as I part my lips to protest.  "You think I don’t know what you look like under those baggy clothes you wear?  I’ve scoped out the competition.“  She winks, leaving me weak-kneed, and throws a sexy black-and-white bikini at me.

"You – watch me?”  The bikini dangles from my hand like a foreign object.

She’s blushing, just enough to color her smooth cheeks, as she pulls off her sweatshirt to reveal a bright, flowery halter top underneath.  It flatters her torso, her perky B cups.  "Well.  Now and then.  When you leave the blinds up, almost like – like you mean me to see.“  She motions with manicured nails.  "Shirt off.”

My turn to flush as I comply.  "If we’re being honest…I do mean you to see. I’m sorry.“  Apologies bubble up like a dammed river as I pull the two-sizes-too-big shirt over my head, but June crosses the room in three strides and puts her fingers on my lips.

"Shut up.  That’s not what I meant.  I’m a porn star – I see naked women all the time.”  She closes in; our bodies are nearly touching now.  The shirt drops from my hand.  "Just not any I’d care to keep around.  Until you.“

"Me?”  I feel like I haven’t had a drink of water in weeks.

“You.”  And she kisses me.  She tastes like strawberry chapstick and expensive perfume, and underneath all of that is a hint of ordinary girl, laundry and TV dinners and old books.  I want to devour her.  I compensate by kissing her back, my hands tracing her fine bones until I reach the back of her head.  I clutch handfuls of her golden tresses, like I have in my dreams.

I have to break it off first, gasping for air.  "June,“ I manage.

She licks her lips and purses them, trying to hide a smile.  Her next move is to kick her Crocs off behind her and shove me heartily onto the couch.  I sit down hard, crumpled into the cushions, and when her sweat pants are off she straddles me so her crotch is at my eye level.

"Let’s skip all that first date shit,” she says, planting kisses along my forehead like my grandmother’s tulips, all in a row.  "Except the part where we giggle a lot. I want to cuddle and watch movies and not think about men except to laugh at them.  Okay?“  As she says this, she wriggles forward until I can’t stand it any longer and plunge my hands into the bikini bottom.  Her ass is as smooth and hard as I imagined.

"Yeah,” I say, “okay.”  And I peel the bottoms forward and press my whole face to her pussy.  She moans, and I don’t think she means to.  I close my eyes.  She smells perfect.

Ever so gently, I extend my tongue and caress her clit, just once.  This time her moan is unmistakable.  "God, but the men could learn a thing or two from you.“

"Satisfaction guaranteed,” I say, grinning.  She touches the corner of my mouth and echoes the smile.

“Then get to work, before I ask for my money back,” June says, and I oblige, burying my face chin-deep in her delicious folds.  She writhes against me, teaching me her most sensitive points by the way she moves her hips, a dance I will not soon forget.

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En-Twinned

Clara and Tara.  They had always been Clara and Tara, twins extraordinaire, inseparable from the day they were born.  Their mother proudly hung a photograph of the two girls, tiny and newborn, their eyes tightly shut and their tiny hands intertwined.

Clara yawned and sat up, her perky breasts swaying on her chest as she leaned over the lump beside her.  "Morning, Tara.“

Tara’s green eyes fluttered open.  "Morning, Clara.”

Clara leaned down and nibbled her sister’s ear.  "Are you ready to get up yet?  Cause it’s Saturday and I’m not.“

"Awww.”  Tara rolled over, pushing herself up on one elbow to smile coyly at her sibling.  "Are you a horny girl?“

"Maaaybe.”  Clara tried to arrange her features demurely, but Tara was laughing.

“Darling.  Don’t.  Just be yourself.  That’s what I love about you.”  She cupped her twin’s chin in her hand and tilted her face so their eyes met.  "Really.  You.“

Clara moved so their lips brushed, barely at first, then with more ferocity.  Tara’s hand slid up Clara’s bare leg, stopping when it encountered the insignificant barrier of Clara’s pink thong.  Nibbling Clara’s lip, Tara maneuvered her fingers to remove the thong in one swift tug.

"Mmm, you’re brilliant,” Clara murmured, her lip caught between Tara’s teeth.  "You’re going to make some little boy a very happy man.“

"Maybe,” Tara said, rolling onto her stomach and tugging back the covers so her sister’s bright, short-cropped hairs were visible.  Lazily tracing the outline of Clara’s mound with a red-tipped nail, she added, “Or maybe I’ll just stick with the one who makes me happy.”

“Sissy.”  Clara planted a kiss on the top of Tara’s bright blue hair.  "No promises you can’t keep if you’ve got the butterflies.“

"Until then,” Tara said, and buried her face in Clara’s lap.  She sought out the familiar, sweet, sensitive areas with her tongue, stroking them with all the love she could muster.  Clara tossed her head back, leaning against the headboard, and sighed.

“I would miss – ahhhhh! – waking up like this.  No man is as talented – ooohhhhhh – as you.”

Tara’s tongue darted in and out of Clara’s pussy at an impossible speed.  She lifted her head, her chin shining with Clara’s moistness, and grinned almost evilly.  "Nope.  And that’s the secret.  I can be into girls as long as I want and I’ll never be lonely.“

"I will never turn you down,” Clara said with a light laugh.  She pushed her sister so Tara sprawled, hair like a sea-colored halo about her head, her dusky skin contrasting the old quilt they had always shared.  Clara parted Tara’s lower lips with her hand and gazed admiringly for a moment.  "And I’ll always return the favor.“

She swiped her tongue across the length of Tara’s pussy, eliciting a shiver and whimper, and ducked to her work.

Posted on

The Right Department

Nora hugged herself and shivered a little.  The dressing room lounge had a stiff breeze, but she couldn’t return to the warmth of the individual room until she’d picked the rest of the items marked M off the rack.

She wasn’t worried about anyone seeing her in just a bra and borrowed underwear – after 8, they closed off the lingerie department and she was left alone to clean up.  Or model what her customers had left behind.

It thrilled her, to know that other pussies had rested on the fabric she slipped on, strangers whose names she would never know but whose bodies had, in a fashion, mingled with hers.  She snatched a last lacy black number and dashed off blushing.

Nora didn’t bother to lock the door and slid the pink thong down her leg with her thumb.  With her other hand, she pinched the black panties off their hangar.

Something moved in the mirror and she frowned faintly, turning to tug the stubborn door closed again against the breeze.  Straightening up, with nothing on below the waist, she came face to face with a girl with short-cropped blonde hair and a hot pink, coy smile.

“No, don’t!” the girl said, laughing, as Nora swallowed her scream and scrambled to recover her modesty with the black underwear.  "Please don’t.  Your ass is adorable.“

"My – ”  Nora’s fingers began to tremble.  Never had she dared admit to anyone but herself that it was the leggy ladies that made her wet.  Certainly she had never pursued a girl, and only dreamed of it with strangers, because knowing her name might make her something to fear.  "I don’t understand,“ she finished, dropping her hands and hoping her flush didn’t make her blotchy.

"Shhh,” the girl said, and slid around the door, locking it behind her.  Her hands still against the wall, she asked, “May I kiss it?”

“Kiss it?”

“Your ass.  I promise, lip to cheek contact only.  It’s just so fucking adorable.  Please?  Butts?  For me?  I’ll be cute.”  And the blonde girl pouted her perfect pink lips and Nora shook harder.

“Okay,” she said in a voice so tiny she didn’t recognize it as hers.

The girl clapped her hands and took two long strides to come up behind Nora.  Even as Nora hugged her own shoulders and tried not to close her eyes, the stranger was down on her knees and her soft lips tingled right at the center, on both cheeks.

Nora sighed.  "Oh,“ she said.

She looked around in the mirror behind her.  The girl had her hands resting on Nora’s thighs, her hair making her look like a mischievous pixie as she smiled back at the glass.  Between Nora’s cheeks rested a bright pink kiss mark.

Nora began to giggle, and it made her wobble, so she reached out for the girl’s hair.  The girl looked up, and Nora’s pussy tightened as she recognized the look in the stranger’s eyes.

"I’m Evi,” the girl said softly, and then it was too late.

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The Bid

“Excuse me.”  Laurie tugged on the usher’s sleeve with as polite an expression as he could muster while other auction attendees elbowed past him.  "I have this special ticket – see, my dad couldn’t make it today, but he’s an official – “

The usher plucked the ticket from Laurie’s fingers with looking at him.  "Front row, third seat from the right, your pa’s name’ll be on the back.  Git in there.”

Laurie sighed and slipped into the stream of well-dressed men flooding into the auction house.  His father had refused to explain, mumbling something about “being a good grown-up lad” as he handed over the ticket in a fit of coughing.  Dutiful to a fault, Laurie took the ticket.  Now he was here and completely confused.

The auctioneer started almost as soon as he sat down between two mustached men who refused to look at him.  "Do I see ten?  Ten ten ten on the floor, do I see ten, yes, ten, ten to number twenty-eight, do I see fifteen, fifteen?  Fifteen, all right, thirteen, thirteen, we are bidding on a fine fine set of lovely luckies, all the way from Care-oh-LINE-uh!  Thirteen, yes, I see you there, sir, thirteen.“

As the hubbub continued, Laurie raised his hand tentatively.  The auctioneer squinted, pointed.  "Yes, you in the front there, the little one, thirty-five, I see you, thirty-five thirty-five do I see forty?  Forty?  No?  Going once, thirty-five going twice…”

Laurie held his breath.

“SOLD, to the little man in the front, for thirty-five dollars.”

An unexplainable excitement filled Laurie’s chest as he rose to follow the frozen smile of the blonde assistant.  She slipped behind the heavy curtain and Laurie held his breath as he went in.

Beyond stretched another huge, heavy curtain, dark and velvetty, but cut in places to reveal small clear boxes at about elbow height.  Laurie bent to look inside one but the blonde assistant batted him away.  "Touching only, kid.  Here.“  She scrubbed roughly at his hand with a cloth soaked in the unmistakable smell of antiseptic.  "Let it dry, then have your fill, then meet me at the other end.”

She disappeared.  Laurie frowned as he approached the nearest box.  It had a man’s hand-sized opening, and into this he slid his arm nearly up to the elbow.  The plastic passageway curved upwards and he followed it, fingers tingling with anticipation.

They brushed something smooth and impossibly soft, and a delighted giggle sounded from above it. It was warm, wet flesh.  Laurie jumped and almost withdrew his hand, but now something came alive between his legs and he could not resist.  He reached upwards again and this time felt more aggressively; his fingers slipped up to the fingernail inside the silken lips, eliciting a gasp from the invisible girl.

Biting his lip in determination, Laurie slipped in and out of her until his hand was wet with her delight.  Thirty-five dollars well spent, he thought, because suddenly he remembered that there were five other boxes.

He skipped on down the row.