Чарли Андерс - Best Lesbian Erotica 2010

As she plunged in and out of me, I began undressing her. Spike was in a trancelike state, so immersed in her mission, I don’t think she even realized what I was doing. Her shirt and bra were off and I ran my hands over the vivid tattoos. She moved off me then, slipping the double-headed dildo out of the harness and leaving it inside me. Like a panther, she moved stealthily down my body and began licking me. Watching her head bob between my thighs, I was lost in a place I’d never visited before.

The long, rubber cock started sliding in and out again. The sensation of being fucked and eaten simultaneously took me completely out of my body and I became some raw, primal animal. I came long and hard, practically ripping Spike’s hair out of her head.

It was time to flip my butch over, which was surprisingly easy, considering her well-defined, muscular body. As I struggled to get her pants over her boots, I almost yanked her right off the bed. But I finally managed to rip them off. A small look of surprise crossed her face but quickly disappeared when I began sucking on a nipple. To my own surprise, I deftly slipped off her briefs and unhooked her harness, the business end of which was shiny with wetness.

Spike’s breathing quickened and she seemed taken aback by my intensity. But she didn’t understand—she’d been working me up, pushing me to the pinnacle of lust since the moment she’d walked out on that stage in that dashing uniform. Even though I’d already had an orgasm, I still wasn’t satisfied and wouldn’t be until I heard a cry of pleasure from her lips.

I slipped two fingers inside her and she didn’t resist like I expected her to. Her eyes did flash me a warning though: be careful.

Had I been in my right mind, I would’ve heeded it. But I was in such a frenzy that I lost all control over my own actions. I reached down between my legs and pulled out the cock that still hung from my pussy, and in one swift movement, I slid it inside her. A look of shock in her eyes subsided as I thrust it, slowly, deliberately. I bent my head down and started licking her swollen clit. Any objections she was going to make evaporated as she melted into my caresses.

The tremors under my tongue told me she was about to come. I didn’t want to lose my grip on her so I curled one arm under her leg to hold her in place while I kept fucking her. Bucking ferociously, she gripped my shoulders, and the cry I’d longed to hear escaped her flushed red lips. When her shuddering had stopped, I pulled the dildo out, placed it at the foot of the bed, and crawled up beside her. Spike sighed.

“Damn,” she said. “Are you really a butch in femme’s clothing?”

“Uh-uh,” I chuckled. “I just know what I like.”

At the bar, Tamara stared at me, dumbfounded. I’d been gone a good two hours and it was nearly four A.M. The others had all gone home.

“What the hell have you been doing?” Tamara asked, patting down my bed-tousled hair. She wasn’t really looking for an answer, so I just smiled and said, “Getting my groove back.”

Tamara grinned. “Glad to hear it.”

“This was a great birthday. Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

No, mine .

Looking back at the darkened stage, I said, “I think I’ll see the show again some time.” I took the beer Tamara handed me and saluted the stage with it. The Marines would come again.

A small cluster of smokers milled around outside the entrance to the club. Up and down the bar-lined street Neela noted the same phenomenon. The only difference was that absolutely everyone outside the Whip Handle wore black, whereas, while black seemed to be the predominant tone, other doorways also boasted a few girls in colorful spring dresses and boys in stone-washed denim and pastel shirts as well. The Whip Handle was like a sucking black hole after dark. It had rained earlier, making the sucking black hole shiny tonight.

Neela, of course, was no exception; after all, you don’t go to a fetish club wearing a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. She wore a black rubber pencil skirt, black seamed stockings, black stiletto pumps with chrome heels and a black silk corset. If she’d draped a black veil over her head, she might have completely disappeared into total stealth mode. But she wasn’t trying to disappear. To attract the kind of boys she was looking for, one had to be visible. Visible and scary.

“Neela!”

Passing through the small crowd, she turned and saw Kat. Smiling, she gave Kat a hug and kiss.

“I wouldn’t have expected to see you here tonight, Neela,” Kat said.

“Why not? Just because Sam left doesn’t mean I’m dead. No, definitely not dead. I feel like playing so I dressed to impress. Impressive, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Later,” Neela called over her shoulder as she swept through the door.

As usual, the place was dark and fairly crowded. She made her way to the bar and ordered a tonic with lime. Looking around, she noticed a few people she’d seen before but didn’t really know. Oddly, almost all the people in the immediate vicinity were women. She saw a boy down at the other end of the bar, but he was obviously with the woman next to him.

Taking her drink, she made her way to one of the chambers off the main room, put down her toy bag and made herself comfortable in one of the leather club chairs. A naked girl chained to the wall was being flogged by a large woman in black leather. Neela admired the woman’s technique, and even in the dim light she could see red stripes on the girl’s back and buttocks. After a few minutes she felt a slight pressure on the toe of her shoe. She raised her foot to bring the kneeling figure’s head up, but the girl’s eyes remained lowered.

“Yes?”

“Yes, Ma’am. This girl would like, um, this girl wonders if Ma’am would like, if Ma’am would be interested in… Um, this girl wishes to offer herself to Ma’am for use in any way she might see fit, ah, if she might wish to play with this girl, um—Ma’am.

The girl wore a short plaid schoolgirl skirt but was topless. She had very small breasts with petite pink nipples, almost boylike. The waistband of the skirt sat low on her hips, exposing her navel and the curve of her waist as well as the slightly rounded shape of her abdomen.

“I don’t play with girls.” Neela removed her toe from under the girl’s chin.

Still kneeling, she looked up at Neela. “But then, this girl wonders why Ma’am would come tonight. Um, this girl means no disrespect.”

“God, stop with the third person; I can’t stand that stuff! What’s your name?”

“This girl is called, I mean, my name is Chantal, Ma’am.”

“Better. Okay Chantal, now what are you talking about? I come here all the time. Why wouldn’t I want to come tonight?” Neela’s eyes swept over the tasty mocha form of the girl still on her knees on the floor. She had honey-colored hair swept up into a messy bun on the top of her head, and striking olive-green eyes.

“Well, because it’s girls’ night. Sorry, Ma’am. I mean, it’s the second Saturday. The second Saturday is always girls’ night. This girl just thought—I mean I just thought, I mean you were so beautiful—I mean you are so beautiful and I’ve seen you here on other nights and I had hoped because I was so excited to see you tonight I thought maybe you’d like… I just thought, wow, ’cause you came on the second Saturday and maybe you didn’t want just boys and ’cause I always saw you and thought you were so hot and I… I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

Chantal’s lips were full and pink; she licked them and they glistened. She wore no makeup. Neela wanted to drink the girl’s skin, it was so clear. She reached out and stroked her cheek. “No, it’s all right. Stay.” Her hand moved down to Chantal’s chin and her fingers found those lips, brushing and parting them as she rested a final finger on the girl’s lower lip.