Lovers (lesbian) (Katherine T.)
The following entertainment is for adults only, and anyone not an adult is hereby warned to go away.
All comments to the author will be greatly appreciated. Contact me at katherinet_@hotmail.com
A repository of erotic fiction by Katherine T. can be found at the following URL: ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Katherine_T
Author's note: I wrote this story some years ago under another title and another pseudonym. Frankie's lesbian politics are a bit antiquated, but politics is politics, and since not all people evolve politically at the same rate, the story is probably still relevant. This is a story of a particular troubled lesbian relationship, and like any story of a relationship, it may not be descriptive of other relationships. I've made some minor changes and I'm now posting this new version for the first time.
Lovers
by Katherine T.
What you see is not what is there.
What is there is something else.
-- Unknown
TWELVE: VALERIE
Valerie meets Brady and another woman on Broadway. The sun is hot enough to bring the sweat out on their foreheads. The sun makes Valerie regret she isn't more careful with her makeup. She likes to keep her appearance intact. She hates the feeling of vulnerability when the sun makes her wilt. When she looks at Brady, Valerie remembers how it was with Brady and Cleo and the others that time in Brady's house. She remembers Brady's hands on her ass and it makes her quiver. Brady's huge breasts jut outward like two mountains. Her silhouette would not show a straight line anywhere. Does she remember that party? When their eyes meet, Valerie understand Brady remembers everything.
Brady's friend calls herself Dell and she's different, less aggressive than Brady, more thoughtful. The way she looks at Valerie makes it seem as though she's trying to hypnotize her. At moments Valerie feels she's approaching the danger zone of getting turned on. She can feel the itch, her clitoris engorged, a definite throbbing at intervals. She wonders what will happen, what the risk will be. She does not want to incite Cleo into one of her crazy jealousies. But when Brady suggests they all go to the nearest girl-bar to drink and talk, Valerie agrees.
Walking into the bar is like stepping through a veil separating one world from another world. They take a booth and order a pitcher of beer. Brady drinks the beer and then she wipes the foam off her lips with her fingers. She looks at Valerie and says: "I like your dress."
Valerie says thank you, wondering if Brady is coming on to her. She likes the taste of the beer. She feels a surge of pleasure at not being alone this afternoon.
Brady says: "Cleo told me you're living with someone."
Valerie nods. "Yes, I am living with someone."
Brady chuckles. "Getting enough?"
Valerie blushes and she says nothing. She avoids their eyes, looking at the empty bar and then at her beer glass. She wonders what they think of her. Poor little femme not getting enough. She feels her breasts swelling in her bra. She has a sudden fantasy she's on a beach and Brady and Dell are tearing her dress off, delighting her with their hands. She imagines Dell's hands tickling the hollows, tickling between her legs as the hot sun beats down on them. She imagines the petals of her cunt opening like a hot greedy flower to their fingers.
After a while Brady rises. "I've got some business downtown. You two have fun."
Valerie is stunned. Brady's departure is unexpected, and after she leaves the bar Valerie feels uncomfortable with Dell because she hardly knows her.
But Dell is soft and easy, at least softer than Brady, and after a while Valerie feels more relaxed, happy with Dell because she's different and variety is always welcome. Dell, in fact, seems a little piqued that Brady ran off like that. Brady is one of those women who always leave uncertainty behind them. Like a big fast ship rocking the small boats as it passes them. Dell nurtures this new friendship with Valerie, speaking softly, smiling, getting Valerie to understand she finds her appealing.
"Lean forward," Dell says.
Puzzled, Valerie asks why. "What for?"
"Come on, do it. Just do it for me."
When Dell looks down at Valerie's breasts, Valerie understands. She blushes and she leans forward, her blouse billowing out to make it easy for Dell to look down the neckline at her breasts.
"Sexy," Dell says with a soft laugh. "Sexy tits in a lace bra. Brady told me you had your brains fucked out at that party."
Valerie's face is red. "It's not fair to talk about people like that."
"Hell, what's the harm? Who cares? You're too pretty to care about that. Do you like me?"
Uncertain, Valerie looks at her. Dell is beefy, pushing forty, but she has a soft face and nice eyes. "Sure," Valerie says.
"I've got some toys. I'm getting hot thinking about doing you with a strap-on. How about it?"
Valerie quivers. "I don't know."
"It's boring sitting here. Let's go to my place and get comfortable, okay?"
When Dell rises, Valerie rises with her. The possibility of being abandoned in the bar is intolerable.
Dell has more grace than Brady or Cleo. She treats Valerie with care, helping her into the taxi, then helping her out of the taxi. On the stairs walking up to Dell's apartment in a small six-flat building, Dell puts a hand on Valerie's ass and she keeps it there as Valerie climbs the steps in front of her. Valerie feels the strong fingers through the layers of clothing. She likes the idea that Dell wants her, wondering what Dell will do in bed. Dell makes a joke about how difficult it is to walk behind a pretty ass, and Valerie laughs as they climb the stairs.
Inside her apartment, Dell opens a window to get some air in the place. The living room is a mess, old magazines and newspapers everywhere, a food tray perched on top of the TV set. Dell brings some cold beer out of the kitchen, and after that they sit on the sofa and Dell starts groping Valerie, kissing her and fondling her breasts through her blouse. When Dell starts unbuttoning the front of her blouse, Valerie leans back with a sigh of surrender.
"Let's have a look," Dell says. She gets the blouse unbuttoned, but instead of unhooking the front of Valerie's bra, she deftly scoops Valerie's breasts out of the cups and she bends her head to suck one of the nipples.
Valerie groans as she looks down at Dell's head. She can see the gray hair mixed with the red, the pink shell of one of Dell's ears. She feels wanton, totally vulnerable, willing to do anything Dell wants. She imagines a smell of womanhood in the room, a smell of ripe cunt. Maybe it's her own smell. Dell excites her because she has a definite sensuality in the way she moves and talks. Dell finishes sucking one nipple and she moves to the other one. Her hand now slides between Valerie's legs and under her skirt to find her panty-covered crotch. Valerie opens her thighs as Dell's fingers lightly stroke her puffed lips through the nylon of her panties.
Dell pulls her mouth away from Valerie's breast, leaving the nipple stiff and glistening with her saliva. "What's Cleo like in bed?"
Valerie is amused. "You don't want to talk about that."
"Sure I do. Does she fuck you with a dick?"
Valerie quivers as she feels Dell's fingers pinching her labia. "No, never." She has an urge to guide the fingers inside her cunt at once, get Dell to take her immediately. She feels herself gushing, damp in the crotch. Would Cleo care about sharing her with Dell? Valerie has no qualms about opening her thighs to Dell. She slumps further on the sofa, quivers, opens her thighs wider and looks at Dell through half closed eyes. "I like you better than Brady."
Dell chuckles. "You do? Come on, let's get the blouse and skirt off. I'm dying to look at you."
Before long Dell has Valerie stripped down to her heels and nylons. She kisses Valerie, pushes her thick tongue inside Valerie's mouth as she strokes Valerie's thighs and tells her how much she wants to fuck her. Valerie imagines Dell lunging at her with a dildo. She knows what it's like; she had it during the wild days before she met Frankie, from the butches in the bars. Dell gets her to stand now, and Valerie thinks she can definitely smell herself, the scent of her cunt, her juices oozing between her legs. She wonders what sort of game Dell has in mind. The air in the room is hot and damp, and she can feel the sweat between her naked breasts as Dell kisses her again. Dell kisses her mouth and chin and then her breasts. The older woman fondles Valerie's ass, whispering in her ear how pretty she is in the stockings and heels, while at the same time her fingers slide into the crack between Valerie's buttocks and one finger gently tickles Valerie's anus. Valerie trembles, hoping Dell won't want her there, not with a dildo at least. She has a sudden memory of Cleo taking her ass with her fingers, Cleo teasing her because she came so hard. Dell hugs her, binding her body close with her strong arms, a ray of sunlight appearing to sparkle as Valerie presses against Dell to feel the soft pillows of Dell's big breasts under her shirt.
Laughing, Dell says: "You're dripping, honey. You're hungry for it." She makes Valerie turn around and bend forward with her hands on the back of a chair. Dell stands behind her, kissing her neck and then sliding her hand between her thighs to get at her crotch. Valerie groans as she moves her legs further apart. She feels Dell's hand down there, the strong fingers pinching and then spreading her labia. Valerie has a sudden fantasy of being fucked in a meadow by a woman wearing black leather. The idea is so unexpected, she giggles, which makes Dell think her fingers are doing it. Dell chuckles as she rubs between the lips of Valerie's cunt and inside the crack of her ass at the same time. She kisses Valerie's neck again, nibbling at her skin and then whispering in Valerie's ear: "If you'll pull your cheeks open, I'll rim you."
Valerie shudders. She lowers her shoulders to the upholstered back of the chair, and then she reaches behind with her hands to pull her buttocks apart. In a moment she feels Dell's hot breath on her ass, and then inside the crack and on her anus. A whimper of delight comes out of Valerie's throat at the first touch of Dell's wet tongue. She loves it. She loves to be treated this way, to be made love to as though she's a hot- house flower. She loves having a butch's tongue tickling and licking her ass with such artfulness she's almost ready to come.
Dell rises. She gets her hand between Valerie's legs again, and this time she takes her with three fingers. Valerie groans, pushing her ass back to get more, anxious now to have an orgasm after all that teasing of her anus. Dell's fucking is lavish, extremely sensual, her knuckles ravaging Valerie's clitoris with each thrust of her strong fingers. Valerie comes hard, but Dell keeps fucking her until she comes again. After that Dell makes Valerie straighten up and she kisses her. She brings her juice coated fingers to her mouth and she sucks them clean as Valerie watches her and trembles with excitement. Valerie is overcome, her mind drugged with the intense sex. She's ready for anything now, and when Dell says she'll be right back, Valerie knows what to expect and she wants it desperately.
"If you want beer, it's in the frig," Dell says.
"Okay."
The older woman playfully pinches one of Valerie's nipples and then she saunters away. Valerie leaves the living room and she walks into the kitchen to find a beer in the refrigerator. The kitchen window shade is up, the window facing the adjacent building, and Valerie giggles as she remembers she's wearing only stockings and heels. She hurries back to the living room, and she stands near the stereo sipping beer out of the can and slowly swaying her hips to the beat of the music.
When Dell returns, she's half undressed, stripped to the waist with her big breasts swinging free and a long thick dildo sticking out of the open fly of her jeans. "Here I am with my dick," Dell says with a laugh, curling her hand around the shaft of the dildo and lewdly stroking it from the tip down to the base.
Valerie blushes as she gazes at the dildo. The color is more pink than natural, and the length and thickness large enough to make the toy a bit frightening. What turns her on more than the dildo are Dell's big breasts. The brown nipples are huge, each breast like a beach ball capped with a dark moon. Dell notices Valerie's gaze, and she smiles as she releases the dildo to lift her breasts with her right forearm. "You want to suck one of these, honey? Come on, don't be bashful."
Mesmerized by the heavy breasts, Valerie moves forward to bend her head and take one of the tits in her mouth as Dell holds it up to her mouth. Dell sighs as she feels Valerie nibbling and sucking at her fat nipple. "That's good, angel. That's very good."
The sucking of Dell's big breast brings an intense heat to Valerie's cunt, the juices streaming down to the tops of her stockings. She suctions the nipple between her lips, attempting to pull it outward. She remembers a girl in college, a wild-eyed dyke with enormous breasts whose favorite game was to offer a breast to anyone at the slightest provocation. Valerie, in fact, accepted the offer at a party and thus confirmed her inner yearning to be a lesbian.
Now when she pulls her mouth away from Dell's breast, Dell smiles at her as she undulates her hips. "Go down on it, honey. Get my dick in your mouth and suck it."
Valerie blushes. She drops to a crouch now, squatting in front of Dell, holding onto the denim covering Dell's big thighs as she tilts forward to take the pink dildo between her lips. The taste isn't at all rubbery, more neutral than she expected, and as she holds her head still Dell chuckles and shoves her hips forward to bury half the length of the dildo in Valerie's mouth.
"Is that too much," Dell asks. "You've got such a gorgeous mouth."
Valerie feels the excitement in her cunt as she sucks the pliable plastic dildo. She likes this kind much better than one of those hard vibrators. She likes the feel of it in her mouth, like a huge pacifier, the surface with an almost velvet texture. She smells patchouli, but she can't imagine where it's coming from. She hears Dell's heavy breathing, and when she looks up she whimpers with lust at the sight of Dell's pendulous breasts hanging over her head. Nothing ventured nothing gained, Valerie thinks. Is Dell the answer to her problems? Dell certainly seems more interested in giving her pleasure than Cleo does. Cleo is selfish, always prolonging the satisfaction of her own needs, never caring when Valerie complains about Cleo's fingers hurting her rectum. What Cleo likes is having Valerie's head squeezed between her muscular thighs, Valerie's head squeezed so hard she sometimes thinks she'll die that way.
Dell finally takes Valerie into the bedroom. She makes Valerie lie on her bed on her back with her knees up and apart to show her cunt. Dell talks about it, telling Valerie how pretty it is, telling Valerie how much she likes the way the hair is trimmed, and how the triangle is so perfect it makes her salivate. Of course it's all nonsense, but Valerie loves it anyway. She adores it when a woman looks at her cunt and tells her how pretty it is. She holds her knees back with her hands, aware how exposed she is, aware of Dell's eyes on her cunt and anus. She wishes Dell would dive down and get her nose in it, polish her clit with that strong nose, but instead Dell let's her hold her legs like that as she continues feasting her eyes.
"Show me the hole," Dell says.
Valerie blushes but she does it. She slides her hands down and she uses her fingers, pulling her cunt apart to reveal the mouth of her vagina. Dell stares at it, smiling, her face flushed, one hand slowly stroking the dildo that protrudes from her fly.
In a moment Dell climbs onto the bed and the main event begins. Kneeling between Valerie's thighs, she hoists Valerie's legs over her shoulders and she gets busy guiding the dildo into Valerie's wet tunnel. Valerie groans as it goes in. She keeps her eyes closed and she focuses on the feel of it. A shudder passes through her body as she feels one of Dell's fingers working its way inside her anus. She hears Dell whispering at her, sweet words of encouragement, much more romantic, really, than what she gets when Cleo fucks her. The dildo feels so good in her cunt, she prays it will never stop. Her cunt is running wet, the lubrication making everything so deliciously slippery. Dell keeps that finger in her backside, slowly screwing it in and out as she continues thrusting with the dildo. When Valerie cries out, Dell starts slamming it in there to make the orgasm more intense. "Geronimo," Dell says, and Valerie screams as she comes again on the sliding prick.
THIRTEEN: FRANKIE
Frankie sits on a chair in Alison's bedroom. Alison is on the bed, her body wrapped in a robe, lying on her side as she idly turns the pages of a fashion magazine. Relaxed on the chair, Frankie watches Alison, her eyes on Alison's legs revealed by the askew robe, the nylon-clad ankles, the elegant high-heeled slippers that make her feet look so enchanting.
Now Alison puts the magazine away and she rises from the bed. She sighs, fluffs her blonde hair and walks over to the dressing table. Is she annoyed at something? Frankie can't imagine what it is. She always does her best to keep Alison pacified. The problem is Alison is often too sophisticated, too difficult to please. Frankie finds it difficult to predict from one time to the next what Alison might want. The affair has a certain breathless pace, a pace determined by Alison and not by Frankie.
Alison removes her robe. Frankie feels a sudden bubble of lust forming in her belly as she looks at Alison who is now wearing only beige stockings with elastic tops and the high heels. Alison has a definite penchant to tease. Avoiding Frankie's eyes, she stands at the dressing table toying with her bare breasts, her fingers circling the globes as though to measure them. What a pet she is. The silk panties are a mauve color. Her legs look so delicious in sheer nylon, her thighs firm above the dark tops of the stockings. She pulls at her nipples with her fingertips, uninhibited, playing with her body as though Frankie isn't there. Frankie has a sudden desire to touch her, and she now rises to approach Alison. For a moment they stand close without contact, Alison turning to look at Frankie, her eyes amused. On the wall behind Alison is a small oil painting of a white moon over a blue lake.
Alison says: "Why don't you undress? I never get to look at you."
Of course it's not true. She has looked at Frankie's body often enough. But Frankie doesn't argue. She turns away and she starts undressing, removing each item of her clothing with deliberate care, the suit jacket, the string tie, the white blouse, the tailored skirt. She slips her feet out of her flat shoes and she quickly gets rid of her pantyhose. Now she wears only maroon androgynous underpants. Her nipples are stiff, the areolas contracted around the dark points. When she looks at Alison, she sees the interest in Alison's eyes. What does she want? Frankie thinks. She's never comfortable being naked with a femme. She has a sudden fear Alison will send her away. Dear god, what a wrenching beauty she is! She imagines Alison yielding to her. She wonders if she ought to remove her underpants, and she decides to keep wearing them. Her cunt is leaking into the crotch, and she's certain if she opens her legs the stain will be visible. Does Alison appreciate that? Alison is looking at Frankie, but her interest is directed at Frankie's almost nonexistent breasts rather than at her crotch. Frankie is uneasy under Alison's gaze. She pretends to arrange her clothing on the chair, and as she does this she willfully contracts her buttocks to produce a tingling stab of pleasure in her anus, an absurd moment that makes her want to giggle like a silly girl. Does Alison understand anything? Frankie finishes adjusting her clothing on the chair, and now with a twinge of annoyance she quickly peels her underpants off and she tosses them on the pile of clothes without looking at the crotch to inspect the wetness.
She faces Alison. They stand about six feet apart, Alison's right hand now raised to position her fingers in the valley between her breasts. Frankie hesitates a moment, and then she says: "Do you have any skin lotion I can use? My arms are dry."
Alison finds the plastic bottle on the dressing table and she hands it to Frankie, who turns away from Alison as she squeezes out some lotion on her palm and then rubs it into her forearm. Frankie guesses Alison is now looking at her ass, but she'd rather have her ass looked at than the rest of her. Her technique has always been to avoid attention to her body, a ridiculous idea since women always like the way she looks.
As if reading Frankie's mind, Alison says: "I like your body."
Frankie quivers, aware of a gush of juice between her legs. Now she's wondering what to do with Alison, or what Alison will want from her. Sometimes, like now, Alison likes to extend the foreplay a long time before they get down to the real fucking. Unfortunately, it's the fucking that Frankie likes best, the hard deliberate fucking of Alison's lovely body. She quivers as she recalls probing Alison's openings with her fingers.
Unexpectedly, Alison moves closer to Frankie and she strokes one of Frankie's arms. "Are you still working out?"
Frankie nods. "It's a good health club. I could take you in as a guest some time."
Alison smiles. "I wouldn't last five minutes in one of those places."
"But everyone needs exercise."
Alison seems fascinated by Frankie's muscular arms. Frankie gazes at Alison's breasts and she feels an urge to run her tongue over the luscious tips. She's hot now. She'd like her saliva dripping on those fruity tits. She quivers as Alison's hand slides across her chest, the blonde's fingers playfully pinching one of Frankie's turgid nipples.
"Anyway, I do like your body," Alison says.
"Let's get on the bed."
Alison laughs softly as Frankie urges her toward the bed. They fall on the bed together, arms and legs wrapped around each other, one body pressed against the other in a hot kiss. Frankie clamps her mouth against Alison's as she pushes her tongue between Alison's lips. Her hand finds one of Alison's breasts and she squeezes it, palpating the flesh, her mouth working against Alison's. The blonde croons with pleasure as Frankie pinches her nipple. Frankie moves her head down, moves her mouth to Alison's breasts. She takes the nipple she has just pinched, takes it between her lips and slowly drips her saliva over it. Does Alison understand how much she adores her?
Alison moans. "Kiss me everywhere."
Frankie's head is reeling with excitement as she wonders exactly what Alison means. Kiss me everywhere. The blonde's beauty intoxicates Frankie. Alison rolls from side to side on her back. So desirable. Frankie runs her hands over Alison's full breasts, over the nipples sticking up like darts. Alison's pink nipples are a provocation. Frankie bends to the feast, licking Alison's breasts, sucking each nipple in turn. Alison bends her head to watch Frankie's mouth. Frankie uses her hands to wiggle a breast against her lips. She's hungry for both nipples, annoyed she can't take them at the same time, two hard raisins so delicious it makes her tremble. She gives them the full treatment, rubbing her face in the cleft between the two full breasts, rubbing her wet mouth over the nipples until they seem to swell into enormous berries. She inhales the scent of Alison's blonde skin.
Then Alison presses the top of Frankie's head. Frankie knows. She puts up no resistance to it. She rolls her face over Alison's diaphragm as she drags her mouth downward. There is no need for Alison to tell her what she wants. Frankie knows. She tugs at the waistband of Alison's panties.
"Pretty panties," Frankie says.
"Do you really like them?"
The meaningless chatter of two lovers. Frankie presses her cheek against the nylon. Alison wants to be sucked and Alison as usual is tenacious. She pushes at Frankie's head again. Frankie pulls the panties down, tantalizing herself as she slowly uncovers more skin, the blonde bush, a thrill as she sees all of the triangle. What a lovely thick tuft she has! Alison lifts her ass to make the removal of the panties easier. Frankie pulls them off, sliding the wisp of nylon over Alison's nylon-clad legs, excited by the stockings that make Alison look so decadent. Alison lifts her knees, opening her thighs wide, then hooking one leg around Frankie to draw her in.
The blonde's meaty cunt is waiting like a pink clam. Frankie bends to it, bends to the eating of the clam as Alison moans with pleasure.
Before long Alison has both legs hooked around Frankie's back, her thighs wide apart, her cunt completely available to Frankie's mouth. Frankie uses her fingers to caress the outer lips. She wiggles the cunt with her fingertips, making the inner lips swell and open like petals. Alison's inner thighs are perfumed, and mixed with the perfume is the heady scent of her sex. Frankie spreads the cunt wider, sniffing at it, wetting her nose with the blonde's syrup, nuzzling at the mouth of her vagina. Then she mashes her mouth against the cunt and she slurps in the velvet. Alison moans more loudly. Frankie strokes her tongue up and down, around in the hole and then licking upward to Alison's clitoris. The blonde's juices are flowing. Frankie nibbles at the lips, whips the clit with her tongue and then sucks it between her lips as she twists her face in the wet swamp. Finally, she moves down to plunge her tongue inside the gaping vagina, her hands holding the larger lips apart, her tongue thrusting in and out rapidly, then stopping as she sucks the juices, then thrusting her tongue again. She knows how much Alison likes this. Alison has told her so. Frankie sucks up the juices, and then she bites one of the lips before burying her face in the clam again. Her desire is intense, suffocating, relentless. She feels Alison pulling at her hair and she finally raises her head. The cunt, the haven, is now abandoned as Alison gazes at her with hot eyes. Frankie's heart beats wildly as she watches Alison take hold of her breasts with her hands and give her a coy look. Frankie adores her. She has her now but she wants even more of her.
Alison smiles and says: "Let me roll over."
Ah yes. Frankie backs away and Alison rolls over on her belly. Now Alison's lovely round ass is visible. She settles herself on the mattress with her thighs together, her buttocks tightly closed. Frankie's pulse races as she takes in the ass and the stockings, the firm full thighs tapering to the fine calves, then the beauty of Alison's ass again.
With a groan of desperate excitement, Frankie lowers her face to run her mouth over the curve of a smooth buttock.
Alison whimpers, responding with a gentle wiggle of her hips.
Frankie treats the blonde's ass with reverence. She finds her own clitoris with her fingers, and as she slides her parted lips over Alison's buttock, she rubs the shaft of her clitoris with her fingertips.
She cherishes Alison's ass. She licks it with her wet tongue. The skin is like ivory, the flesh beneath it both firm and resilient, smooth and soft and warm. Frankie feels her own juices drizzling on her fingers as she moves to the other buttock.
Alison appears fascinated by Frankie's attentions. She whimpers, she bleats, she wriggles her ass under Frankie's face. They have done this before and Frankie knows Alison is fully aware how far it will go, how devoted Frankie can be, how loving to this part of her anatomy. "I like the way you do my ass," Alison once said. This made Frankie tremble with embarrassment, and she hurriedly turned away in order to hide her face.
Now Frankie manipulates both buttocks with her hands. Alison responds to everything she does. The blonde moves her thighs apart, her skin catching the afternoon sunlight as she draws her knees forward a bit. This raises her ass, and as Frankie nuzzles in the crack, Alison moves her knees again and her ass lifts even further.
Frankie is lost. Using both hands, she opens Alison's ass, pulls at the two loaves, pulls them apart even as she blushes at her own lust. But no one can see the blush. She buries her face between Alison's buttocks and she moves her lips around as she kisses everywhere except the rosebud. The skin in the groove is soft and luscious and scented with Alison's perfume. Frankie cups Alison's cunt in her palm to feel the wetness, the wet heat of it. She slides her mouth down to the vaginal entrance now so blatantly exposed the opening gapes as a dark red hole.
With a groan, Alison arches her ass upward another few inches. Her knees slide further apart, her thighs widening, her ass gently rolling.
Frankie's mind is in a whirl. It occurs to her she'd rather have Alison in a garter belt. These stockings with elastic tops are sexy, but a garter belt would be more interesting. She wants the feel of garters under her fingertips as she presses her face into Alison's full ass. She tells herself she needs to find a way to let Alison know, whisper it sometime when Alison isn't expecting it. She imagines Alison will be amused and say yes, she'll wear a garter belt if Frankie wants it.
Now Frankie gazes at the tendrils of hair in the crack. She holds Alison's hips as Alison writhes. She runs her thumbs along the inner slopes of Alison's buttocks, her fingers splayed to their full extent as she takes possession of Alison's ass. Below the split between the two buttocks, the pouch of Alison's cunt is a like a hairy mouth begging for attention.
Maybe sometime she'll have her on a boat, take her this way with the wind in the sails.
The counterpane on the bed is made of pink satin, now spotted in places with sweat and cunt syrup.
Both hands on Alison's ass, Frankie wiggles the cheeks, pulls the buttocks apart as she gazes at Alison's anus.
Frankie's clitoris feels swollen, enormous. She looks down at her belly and she wonders if later on she'll have a chance to rub herself on Alison's ass and thighs. Alison is never predictable. The affair has its peaks and valleys. Frankie;s head is now pounding with lust, her cunt oozing.
Alison elevates her ass even further, offering it to Frankie, and now looking at Frankie over her shoulder. "Kiss me some more," Alison says.
Frankie becomes the lover commanded. She lowers her face again, nuzzling between Alison's buttocks. A great heat seems to radiate from the two globes. Frankie rubs her nipples against Alison's thighs, catching one nipple at the top of a stocking. She tries to remember what they did the last time. She wants their lovemaking to have enough variety to prevent Alison from getting bored. Now she slides her mouth over Alison's anus, wetting it, tickling it with her tongue, then placing her tongue directly on the ring and pushing just hard enough to make Alison feel it.
Alison moans. Frankie has a hand on her own cunt, her palm slowly rubbing her wet flesh, the wet mat of pubic hair. Does Alison realize how hot this makes her? For a brief moment, Frankie feels an urge to rebel against Alison's need to be serviced. This body worship. Frankie's cunt gushes in her hand, the syrup flowing over her fingers. Dear god, she's dripping. Alison bumps her ass upward. Frankie feels a tingling in her clitoris as she grips Alison's buttocks with her hands. Her tongue has now penetrated the tight ring, Alison groaning as she presses her ass back against Frankie's face. The blonde's thighs are wide apart, her back bent, her face turned to the side and pressed into the pillow, her eyes closed as she focusses all her attention on what Frankie is doing to her ass. For Frankie the caress is a violation, a possession, the heat in her chest rising as she plasters her lips against Alison's anus to suck it into a yielding softness.
Is the room too warm? The sweat seems to roll off Frankie's breasts in a torrent. She keeps her tongue active, sensitive to each cry of pleasure from Alison, probing vigorously and then relaxing to a mere delicate fluttering at the entrance.
When Alison finally comes, it's like the eruption of a volcano, her body quaking as Frankie suddenly transfers her hand from her own cunt to Alison's cunt, her fingers taking Alison's vagina, two fingers penetrating, thrusting deep inside the tunnel, sliding in and out as her tongue continues to wriggle in the blonde's receptive anus.
Afterward, after they bathe together and spread lotion over their bodies, Frankie makes love to Alison's ass again. Alison giggles and tells Frankie she's insatiable.
FOURTEEN: VALERIE
When Frankie's law firm sends her to Washington for a few days, Valerie agrees to go dancing with Cleo in the evening. They go to a lesbian bar, Valerie tingling with excitement and apprehension because it's possible someone who knows Frankie will see her with Cleo.
Once inside the crowded bar, Valerie's head becomes filled with the music, the noise, the press of so many women surrounding her. She hasn't had an evening out like this one in such a long time. She stands beside Cleo as Cleo waves to her friends, talks to her friends, ignoring Valerie who doesn't mind it because she doesn't want to be conspicuous. She's hoping after they leave the bar Cleo will take her home and give her a workout. Thinking about that makes Valerie shiver with excitement, the familiar excitement that occurs whenever she thinks of the way Cleo handles her like a rag doll. Her syrup is flowing. She can feel it. The ambience in the bar, the rush, the noise, the mix of perfume turns her on.
Before long a mannish looking dyke swaggers over to say hello to Cleo, and Valerie gets to meet Pauly. They chat awhile, and then Cleo slides an arm around Pauly's shoulders and smiles at Valerie. "Pauly's an old friend, Val. You be nice to her while I go say hello to someone."
Valerie is peeved, but there isn't much she can do about it as Cleo walks off into the crowd. Pauly presses against Valerie, presses her against the bar and says: "What'll you have, honey? You want another daiquiri?"
The play is there, Pauly playing her, running a hand over Valerie's back at the same time as her knee comes up to push through Valerie's dress against her crotch. For a moment Valerie wants to rebel, but she finds that impossible. She realizes now Cleo may want this. The booze and the loud music make everything seem so wild. She wonders if she ought to keep away from Pauly. But no, Pauly won't have that. Pauly moves in, kisses the side of her neck, whispers into Valerie's ear that Valerie's breasts look delicious in the low-cut dress, a real handful. "I like tits," Pauly says as she turns to take another swig of beer out the glass.
Just at that moment a girl Valerie knows passes them, the girl's eyes turning to look at them, the girl smiling as she recognizes Valerie, raising an eyebrow, then passing on without saying anything. Valerie wonders if the girl thinks she's with Pauly. Oh hell, Valerie thinks.
Pauly takes Valerie onto the dance floor. Pauly has a strong body, and when she starts dancing she looks more mannish than ever. Valerie glances around the crowded dance floor and she suddenly sees Cleo with a girl, a pretty blonde in a slinky dress, the two of them dancing. Valerie trembles with jealousy. She damns Cleo and Cleo's habit of making her look small. Cleo seems mesmerized by the pretty blonde. The room is filled with gorgeous femmes, and now Valerie wonders why she ever agreed to this date with Cleo. She's not with Cleo anyway, she's with Pauly now. And she can tell Pauly has an itch for her. That look in Pauly's eyes means Pauly wants her in bed. Valerie imagines Pauly's thick fingers inside her cunt. Oh yes, Pauly wants her. Cleo obviously doesn't care one way or the other. Valerie tells herself she means nothing to Cleo. Maybe that's why Cleo treats her like garbage. She continues dancing with Pauly, and now as they shake their bodies past a mirror, Valerie looks at herself dancing with this big woman who wants to get inside her pants. She imagines it, imagines herself unrestrained with Pauly. What a mannish body she has, the way she moves, the way she tosses those strong arms around. Valerie feels helpless. Frankie is in Washington and Cleo is with another girl and she feels so alone, like a nothing little shadow of other women. That's all she is, a little shadow of Frankie and Cleo.
Pauly moves in now. As they dance, she puts her hands on Valerie's hips, her eyes fixed on Valerie's breasts almost popping out of the low-cut dress. "Let's go downstairs," Pauly says.
"Downstairs?"
"To the restroom, honey. Let's take a break and go downstairs, okay?"
Pauly leads her away. Valerie is thankful because she's tired of dancing and she needs the john anyway. Pauly holds her with a strong arm around her waist as they make their way off the dance floor and down the stairs to where a line of women waits for the restroom to become available. Valerie and Pauly move into the line, Pauly standing behind Valerie with her crotch pressed against Valerie's ass and her mouth whispering in Valerie's ear as she tells Valerie she's the prettiest flower in the place, much prettier than any of the other femmes. Pauly whispers that she'd like to put it to her, get her dress up right there in the line and give it to her from behind with her fingers. Valerie quivers, excited by Pauly now even though she didn't expect it. The image of Pauly fucking her from behind is exciting. Pauly is different than Cleo and Frankie, more determined, more confident. Valerie feels the big woman radiating sex behind her like a hot oven.
Finally Valerie and Pauly are up at the front of the line, and before long they get their turn and they move into the restroom together. Valerie immediately moves to one of the empty stalls, but then she feels an immediate shock as Pauly pushes behind her into the stall, Pauly locking the door and then grabbing Valerie and kissing her mouth, Pauly's hand sliding under Valerie's dress to get at her cunt, the older woman's thick fingers taking possession of Valerie without any preliminaries.
Valerie gasps. "My god, stop it!"
But Pauly only chuckles. "Come on, baby, give it to mama." She makes Valerie open her legs further, and as soon as Valerie does this, Pauly's fingers are in there more insistent than ever, two fingers and then three fingers pushing inside Valerie's wet cunt, Valerie groaning and finally lifting one foot to the commode to make it easier for Pauly to get her off. It doesn't take long, not with a dyke as skillful as Pauly, and soon Valerie is shuddering as the hot pleasure rips through her body. After the first orgasm, Valerie begs Pauly to stop, but instead Pauly makes Valerie turn around and put her hands on the toilet tank. Pauly now raises Valerie's dress, strokes her ass and then quickly gets her fingers inside Valerie's cunt again, this time from the rear.
Valerie is ravished. She can't stop it now because the pleasure is too sharp. The insides of her thighs are drenched all the way down to the tops of her stockings. She groans and gasps, praying no one outside the stall will hear her. Pauly renews the attack, a fierce fucking in Valerie's cunt with her fingers, and then at last Pauly gets her thumb in Valerie's ass and Pauly says: "Cleo told me you're a hot ass. Yeah, she's right, isn't she?"
In the midst of the wild orgasm, Valerie understands what has happened, understands that Cleo has dumped her, thrown her away, given her to Pauly to be Pauly's dolly.
Valerie comes hard, crying at the same time, sobbing her desperation, and of course Pauly thinks the sobbing means Valerie is in heaven.
Oh god, I don't want this, Valerie thinks. This is not what she wants. She hates Pauly, she hates Cleo, she hates everything that's happened to her. She wants Frankie back. Oh yes, she wants Frankie.
FIFTEEN: FRANKIE
Frankie is sitting alone in a restaurant on Chestnut Street, waiting for Alison, fidgeting with her napkin. She has been back in Chicago three days, and all she cares about now is seeing Alison again. The trip to Washington was dull, or maybe her mind these days just isn't focused enough on her work. What she feels at the moment is anxiety. And sexual expectation. She hopes Alison will be free this afternoon. Frankie wriggles on the chair, wondering if her skirt is wrinkled. Under the tailored jacket she wears a white shirt without a bra, and she can feel the texture of the cloth against her nipples. She looks around the room and she feels her sexual hunger again. Will she ever be content? When she was a girl, she always thought a full moon so romantic, and what was more important in life than romance? Now she knows it's not romance that's important, it's love. Intense absorbing love. She had that once with Valerie, but maybe it will never return. She had such a difficult time getting Alison to meet her today. For an instant Frankie wonders if maybe Alison is too fickle. Maybe she doesn't care enough. What a pity to meet her in a restaurant and not be able to hug her when they see each other. Play tough, Frankie thinks, always play tough. Alison irritated her yesterday by her coyness about meeting today. She's too beautiful, Frankie thinks. She wants her fingers inside Alison. I'm living on hope, Frankie thinks. She lives on the hope things will work out for her, her life get settled somehow. What does she want? Does she want Alison or Valerie? Is one woman enough? There are things about Valerie that still excite her immensely. Her legs, for instance. But Alison excites her too. The way Alison purrs when Frankie gropes her. The way Alison likes to offer her ass. Maybe it's the subtlety. Alison is more subtle than Valerie. You don't understand anything, Frankie thinks. She understands torts and estates, but she has no understanding of what she wants from women. She's mystified.
Finally Alison arrives, a tall graceful vision entering the room, looking around, spotting Frankie and walking toward her. Frankie feels the hunger again, an intense desire to taste Alison's beauty.
"Hi," Alison says, a soft smile as she sits down opposite Frankie.
"You look wonderful," Frankie says. And then she adds: "I missed you terribly."
Alison accepts the token of affection with a demure glance. She picks up the menu and she begins discussing it, what she likes, what she doesn't like. She says she hasn't been in this restaurant in some time and she isn't that certain about the food. Frankie has no interest in the food, all she cares about is Alison, the memories of them together, the sequence of erotic images now passing through her mind one after the other, each image burning her brain before it vanishes only to be replaced by another image. What do I want? Frankie thinks. At the moment what she wants is the feel of her chin pushing at Alison's cunt, Alison's juices dribbling on her chin. The memory makes Frankie tremble. She tells herself she has to stop it before she destroys herself.
Alison is different. Frankie senses a change in Alison. They talk about Frankie's trip to Washington, but Alison seems disinterested. She looks at her hands, at her long fingers. Frankie talks, but as she talks she schemes about how to get Alison into bed this afternoon. She wants Alison in her arms. She imagines herself kissing Alison, petting her, yielding to the penchant Alison has to have Frankie's tongue everywhere. Frankie's tongue and nose. A memory of Alison's scent is suddenly so vivid, Frankie shudders with delight. Scintillating.
Then Alison says: "We need to talk about something."
"What?"
"Something important."
"I'm listening."
Frankie tells herself Alison's ass is so perfect, so breathtaking. And her belly. And the way she comes.
Alison says: "I've decided I can't go on with this. I really can't."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm talking about us. I'm sorry."
Frankie remembers Alison moaning as she hunches up to get more of Frankie's fingers.
"Just like that?"
Alison looks away. "Don't you think it's better to be more direct? I think it's much better."
For a moment Frankie thinks there might be some way to pacify Alison, something Alison wants, anything. But of course it's a mirage.
Frankie says: "Why?"
Alison shrugs. "I've decided I don't want the circumstances."
"You don't want a gay life?"
Nervous, Alison looks around to see if anyone heard. "Yes, that's it."
"Oh shit," Frankie says.
Alison blushes. "I was hoping we'd stay friends."
Frankie looks at her. She says nothing. And then she puts her napkin on the table and she rises. "I'll take care of the check on the way out. Goodby, Alison."
In her office in the afternoon, Frankie's mood alternates between rage and sadness and frustration. Sexual frustration. She understands that with Alison it was more sex than anything else. Even thinking about Alison now causes her juices to flow. She wanted to be with Alison this afternoon, and now instead it's over, Alison gone from her life, the affair ended. How can I be so stupid? Frankie thinks. The only bedrock in her life is Valerie. Loyal Valerie. Oh yes.
Frankie leaves the office early and she goes to Bloomingdale's. Inside the store, she passes a mirror and she stops to stare at herself. Well-groomed young female attorney who might be a dyke but who might not. What's her niche? She brushes a fleck of lint off her thigh. Then she finds the lingerie department and she buys a black negligee and she has it gift wrapped. Is the salesgirl wondering who the gift is for?
"Would you like a card?"
"No, that's not necessary."
The girl gives Frankie a smug smile. Frankie thinks of something to say, but rather than prolong the farce she takes her package and she leaves. Some women are such rotten bitches, so bitchy they can't be answered.
In the evening, Frankie kisses Valerie. "Have a nice day?"
Valerie shrugs. "Not much of anything."
"I missed you."
Valerie whimpers. "You did?"
Frankie kisses her again, her tongue sliding over Valerie's mouth. "I bought you a present."
"You did?"
Frankie brings her the Bloomingdale's box, and she sits and she watches Valerie as Valerie giggles and hurries to open the box.
She's beautiful, Frankie thinks. She's more beautiful than Alison.
Valerie moans with joy as she pulls out the black negligee.
"Oh Frankie!"
"Do you like it?"
"I love it! I'll try it on, okay?"
"Sure."
While Valerie is gone, Frankie turns on some music and she pours out two glasses of white wine. Pity she hadn't thought of champagne. She closes the blinds and she turns down some of the lights in the living room. She's eager now, all the anger and pain of the afternoon washed away, the only thought in her mind the next few hours with Valerie.
My only love, Frankie thinks.
Valerie comes into the room wearing the black negligee and high heels, blushing, her dark triangle visible through the sheer folds.
"I love you," Valerie says.
And Frankie says: "Come over here and kiss me."
end
All comments to the author will be greatly appreciated. Contact me at katherinet_@hotmail.com
A repository of erotic fiction by Katherine T. can be found at the following URL: ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Katherine_T