Чарли Андерс: Best Lesbian Erotica 2010

Gore-ella was right. I was soaking wet. And Spike hadn’t even revealed any body parts yet.

Free of her jacket, Spike began a dance routine that was reserved in a modest, butch sort of way, but seductively feminine at the same time. Her eyes were still hidden, but her smile had widened. Small dimples creased her smooth cheeks and her lips flashed white teeth every time she spun around. She knew she was hot. She knew she had all the femmes in the audience creaming for her. And she knew she was going to make more than one of them come right there on the dance floor.

My nipples were hard and I could feel them rubbing against my blouse, right through my bra. Standing still was not easy. I squirmed as my clit began pulsating.

Spike unbuckled her trouser belt and let it dangle as she unbuttoned her sky blue pants and slowly lowered the zipper. The howling and whistling filled the room as more and more women crowded around me, aching to see this hot woman reveal herself. Speechless and mesmerized, I said nothing and did nothing. Somewhere along the line, I lost my drink. I had no clue where it was. I didn’t care. I didn’t care where my friends were either. As far as I was concerned, the only two people in that club were me and Spike.

Spike bent over to give the bottoms of her trouser legs a tug, spreading them into bell bottoms. Then she began lowering her pants, turning around to show her luscious ass. Holding the pants just below her cheeks, she rotated her ass to the squealing delight of her onlookers. Various women shouted, “Yeah, baby, take it off!”

Spike’s pants pooled around her feet. She stepped out of them and kicked them aside. Impressed with the ingenuity, I wondered what other tricks Spike used to make her undressing easier.

In contrast to her dress uniform, she wore black combat boots instead of shiny dress shoes. I supposed that taking off her pants and standing there in shoes and black socks would not have looked so great. So, there she was, G.I. Jane, in a tank top, boy-cut khaki briefs, and combat boots. And the hat. That fucking hat. It took all the will I had to not jump onto the stage and pounce on her.

Her hands grabbed fistfuls of the tank and with a good yank, it ripped off her body, revealing a flat stomach sparkling with a subtle application of glitter. Underneath that tank, Spike had on a black leather bra. The statement was obvious: She was a butch but she was still a woman. Don’t ever forget it.

At last, she grasped the hat and flung it off. Her close-cropped hair was damp with perspiration and she ran a hand through it, Joe Cool-style. She was gorgeous. Handsome. Well, that was why she was up there. Probably no one was interested in her dancing skills, although her moves were as smooth and subtle as coffee ice cream. Her body moved in perfect unison with the upbeats and downbeats of the music. As Pink sang, “Keep your drink, just give me the money,” Spike went to the foot of the stage and danced for a few moments there, squatting and spreading her knees in front of various women, encouraging them to stick money in her briefs. Women were eager to do just that, and she rewarded each one with a big, sexy smile.

Spike was in front of the woman next to me. I quickly fumbled in my pocket for a bill. Any denomination, I didn’t care. I would have gladly given her a hundred dollars for a glance. A thousand for a kiss. My kingdom to have Spike go down on me.

Still squatting, she pulled herself over until she was right in front of me. Hazel eyes burned right through me. Momentarily frozen, I thought the world could see the wetness gushing between my legs. Her smile was completely undoing me.

“Well, go ahead.” An elbow pushed me and I turned to see Tamara standing there, egging me on. “You gonna pay her crotch, or what?”

I turned back to Spike, who had not moved her gaze from me. The triangle of her crotch was less than a foot away—I couldn’t look or I would plunge my face right in. Reaching for her briefs, I licked my lips, aware that I was probably making a fool of myself. But then, Spike was probably used to rendering grown women into useless, blathering piles of melted marshmallow. Pulling on the waistband of the briefs with one hand, I slipped the green bill—whatever it was—down the front.

But there was more.

As I shifted my gaze to her center, I noticed something. There was a bulge there that shouldn’t have been. Shocked, I stopped with my hand down her briefs. I looked up again, whereupon Spike grinned like the Devil and cocked her eyebrow at me.

Holy Mother of God, she’s packing!

How had I not noticed before? Spike stood up to move away from me and the waistband snapped from my fingers.

Another figure appeared on stage. It was Melanie. This time she was dressed in camouflage fatigue pants, a camouflage bra, and combat boots, and she began dancing on the opposite side of the stage. The two dancers continued their own routines for a minute, then moved closer and began a dance that told the story of two women falling for each other. Perhaps the handsome soldier had met her on furlough.

Melanie’s fatigues came off and she wore only the bra and a camouflage thong. Someone backstage pushed a settee out onto the stage. After the soldier seduced her girl, Melanie turned and leaned on the settee with her hands, her ass facing Spike. Spike reached down between Melanie’s legs and ran two fingers along her crotch. Turning to the audience, she smiled wickedly as she licked the full length of her fingers. Turning back to the woman spread out before her, Spike reached into her briefs and pulled out the dildo. The briefs had shifted down just enough that I could see the leather harness that was holding the phallus in place.

The whooping and whistling was deafening. The music slowed to a rhythmic pulse as Spike held her extended member and began thrusting in the direction of Melanie’s ass, mimicking the sex act. From somewhere behind me came, “Fuck her!”

My eyes did not move from the scantily clad soldier. Her thrusting was in perfect timing with the music. It was so sensual and erotic, yet raw and dirty at the same time. My limbs trembled.

Suddenly, Melanie stood up, turned to face Spike, and shoved her. Spike fell to her knees as Melanie pushed her down. Spike leaned back until she was lying down. Melanie stood over her, with one foot on either side, and danced her way up until her crotch was directly above Spike’s face. She began moving her hips backward and forward as Spike moved her head up and down in mock, exaggerated cunnilingus. As the music picked up its beat again, gaining in speed and intensity, Melanie followed suit. Hips bucking, head thrown back, she writhed in orgasm, cheers and whistles encouraging her performance, and as the song launched back into a chorus, she stepped back. Spike jumped up and wiped the fantasy cum from her chin, shooting a devastating grin to the audience. To the echo of more cheers and whistles, she continued dancing, tucking the dildo back inside her briefs.

The story had changed to one of a relationship gone wrong. Sure, the sex was hot but the girl was no good and the soldier wanted nothing more to do with her. The soldier continued interacting with her audience, ignoring the pleas for attention from Melanie. But Melanie would not be ignored. She finally caught her soldier from behind and caressed her body. At first, Spike tried pushing her away, but eventually she gave in to Melanie’s ministrations. Melanie ran her hands up Spike’s waist and clutched her breasts, making Spike close her eyes with pleasure.

I almost closed mine with pleasure, for by now, my hand had made its way between my legs. There were people all around me, including Tamara, but I couldn’t help it. My pussy had begun to throb painfully and I had to stop it.