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Leoni’s Thrills

Category: Lesbian Sex
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Leoni was by all accounts a rather attractive woman. And she was a woman, now. She had not really appreciated the change herself. The way her cheeks had come in, her features come finer and lean. The elegant lines of her nose and lips. The way her eyes now looked to men, her slightly green eyes, fortuitous under her red Irish hair.

She hardly wore makeup, but she would confess to spending time on that hair, arranging for its loose waves to cascade lightly over her cheeks, to brush her neck, to spill so teasingly onto her shoulders, down in front just barely over her collarbones. She had very small breasts and always would, but they fit her slender frame and let her wear blouses wildly open sometimes in the evenings, in the right venues, baring more of the braless skin between her nipples than most bustier women would dare. That was her innovation, her capitalization on the particular sensuality her body bespoke. That she could go further, in a way, than other women and still offend no one afforded her a sense of power, of freedom. A guilty fearful indecent thrill.

It was in connection with this fashion epiphany that she had stopped being embarrassed by her nipples. When it was cold, or for the other usual reason, they grew quite long, poking out unmistakeably from all but the heaviest sweaters. Under thin cotton or rayon or silk, they cried out, never failed to draw eyes in the elevator, on the subway. Leoni had worn bras for a while just to hide them, and she still did most times in class and with her family. But at freer times, she let them stand out at her body’s whim, and last week she had bought two new clubbing tops that were especially thin; thin enough that in a proper light, the whole of her round rouge areolas could be discerned against her pale freckled skin. She had not had the courage or occasion to wear them yet, but Friday was coming and the Pheonix was dark and she had one laid over the footboard of her bed.

Leoni was a second year student at university yet she was living in residence for the first time – she had lived at home her first year, but became envious of her friends who lived on campus, conscious of the social world she was missing, and so for her second year, she had worked the summer and saved and gotten herself a shared room in a coed dorm. Despite what she told her father, there had been a clear motivation for the coed choice: she had wanted to be around men. Yes, she had even wanted to see them walking down the hall in towels, to catch an accidental glimpse through the open door of their washroom, to unintentionally witness some rugby player’s thick flaccid cock there and not look away and have him know it, that she could have looked away. She had wanted to have guys in her room late at night not to sleep with them but just to lounge there talking to them in something she couldn’t wear outdoors, knowing but ostensibly oblivious to the show she was giving them. Well she had daydreamed about all that. But then she had been too shy, a largely introverted person who took much courage from the anonymity of the big city and the casual friends and the dark clubs where they danced. In fact she felt strange even changing with her roommate there, and she would turn to face the corner of their room when switching her top or getting ready for bed.

She did indeed see a boy on her floor walking down the hall in a towel on occasion. And after a month, she almost attempted to time her passing by the men’s loo a couple of times, before she judged it silly. But her first risque experience in residence was quite the opposite of what she’d expected: it occurred one night after some pre-club drinks, when she decided she needed a pre-club shower and stripped down to nothing with her roommate and her friend there in the room and the door wide open, slung a towel around herself and went out. No one had been walking by in the hall, and her roommate and her friend were of course both girls, but she would not have done it sober. Her roommate seemed a private girl who was probably uncomfortable at the time, and her friend’s sexuality was dubious. Kelly, this friend, was quite surprised by the sudden display – she had certainly never seen Leoni naked – and she felt compelled to laugh and look away if only for the first moment and then to tease Leoni with: “Take it off baby!” Leoni couldn’t remember if she’d only thought about it or actually done it, but she might have posed for an instant with a sexy recline in her back and her hip set to one side, like she would see the dancers do a month after that when she and a couple of other girls would accompany a group of boys from the floor to the local strip club on a kind of barely enunciated dare.

That was her second risque experience, and it was more than she had bargained for. After the first couple of dances, Leoni and the other girls were coerced into moving with the boys to the front row by the stage, where the dancers kept smiling at her and presenting their thongs for her to slip money in. She was holding the money because Chad kept putting it in her hand, hoping that the dancers would come back and that Leoni would touch one of their hips or asses again in the process of inserting the money. Which they did, and she did. Leoni kept protesting, but if a dancer arrived while she still had the money, and put out her ass or her hip, Leoni would slip in the bill. One time, while she was laughing derisively at Chad and the whole experience, but still giving away Chad’s money, one of the dancers winked at her in an alarming, real sort of way that caught her off guard, that stopped her laughing, or thinking or moving. For those few startled seconds, she realized after, her unattended features must have remained roughly as they had been: her lips wide, her teeth showing, her cheeks high and tight. Her head back, presenting her neck, her collarbones, and the pale skin between her breasts. Her gaze fixed mirthfully on the stripper, on the stripper’s post-wink eyes, brown and personal.

And then unfortunately on her 36 B’s, Leoni remembered, the really very excellent breasts uncovered for her many bills ago with all the splendour of their huge dark puffy nipples. Of course her eyes had been reminding her, warning her of where she was, of who this woman was winking at her, of what the strange wink meant, but then at the end of the day, the fact was her eyes had settled there on this stripper’s proud tits and she had watched them from the front, then round and turning, then pert in profile against the lights while the stripper began to rise and turn away but still watched her watching.

And all that time, her fingers were still on the woman’s ass. It was really only a matter of seconds, probably, and Leoni only realized where she had left her hand when the stripper stood high enough that her cheeks rose out of reach. But the guys were thrilled with it. She knew at once there was no option but to play along with their idea; to protest it at all would ring of guilt as protest always does. So she turned an impressive stare on Michael and popped her eyebrows and did something with her lips. That would have been enough, but the act possessed her just then and she took her three fingers that still remembered the smooth taut round of the dancer’s bottom and put them in her mouth. While the guys watched disbelieving, she drew them out against the pull of her tongue and her lips. Her fingers tasted like strong perfume, which made Leoni suddenly aware that she was but one surface removed from lapping the bare skin of the dancer’s bum. She wasn’t sure if the shock of that showed through her performance, but she quickly laughed anyway in conclusion and turned back to the stage.

Well, that would get talked about for the next week and then once or twice at a party later in the year, she figured. Then it would be over. Not so bad. Maybe it would make Michael want her, which she wouldn’t mind.

After the dance was finished, Leoni turned to Kelly – who had been spending a lot of time with Tom lately but came to the strip club of course, as if to maintain the dubiousness of her sexuality – and said: “Are you ready to go? Why don’t we head out before the next dance starts up?” She hadn’t wanted to ask the guys to leave, lest there were any hint of incriminating protest in that, so she was appealing to her friend to get the movement going. But to her infinite annoyance, Kelly replied too loudly:

“I don’t know, I think you should get a lap-dance.”

Chad liked that idea. Leoni rolled her eyes, turned away from them, and slumped a little with her arms across her chest. At the far side of the stage, her dancer was striding off with her clothes bunched in her hands, still naked, bare-assed. Despite herself, Leoni felt a light-hearted satisfaction. The stripper was undeniably gorgeous, and she couldn’t have drawn a better ass to put on her shapely legs. Any guy would have gone poor to lay his hands on it. But it was Leoni’s fingers the stripper had left there. Maybe had wanted there. It occurred to Leoni suddenly that during her performance for the guys and her preoccupied reflections thereafter, she had missed seeing the dancer’s pubes, the big finale where she finally removed her thong altogether. Some “lesbian” Leoni was! While she amused herself with that thought, she leaned her head a bit after the dancer as she disappeared into the back, it having occurred to some part of Leoni’s brain to try to look through the pretty butt and determine what the other side would have looked like. But that was only curiosity, and she didn’t even make note of it. The first dancers had had severely trimmed strips for pubic hair, which had amazed Leoni, and she wanted to know whether it was a stripper thing.

She next wondered whether the stripper had tried to get her attention during that last portion of her act. Leoni thought from the wink that she would have. For a bit, Leoni felt bad at that, like she had been mean ignoring the woman. So cold to go from the wink-stare to nothing like that. The stripper didn’t know she hadn’t meant it. But the stripper surely wasn’t for real anyway, so it was okay. Unless of course she had seen Leoni’s Finger Lickin’ Good show. Then she would have pegged Leoni for a lesbian for sure. Which would have been scary if the dancer was a lesbian too, and mortifying if she wasn’t. Too. If the dancer was a lesbian too. Leoni shook her head at her error, smiling despite herself.

There was a break before the next dance, and sometime during this break, the strippers from the last dance appeared among the crowd, (barely) dressed slightly differently than they had been on stage. One had a schoolgirl outfit on – not that any school would have admitted her in it – while the second wore a neon green bikini. They were both quite attractive, better than the girls that were on when Leoni and her friends had first come in. But Leoni didn’t see her dancer. The guys were fiddling with money and it looked as if they might be going. Leoni sighed in relief and unfolded her arms.

It was about then that the lithe arms of another woman fell over her shoulders, hung together at the wrists before her chest. Next was the smell of that perfume, and a changing of the sounds of the room as something obscured her ear. And then tickles of hair on her cheek, her earlobe. The dancer had had short hair, black, sweeping out away from her head in short spiky layers. So Leoni knew how close she was before she spoke.

“Hi,” she said in a low, slow, melodic way.

Leoni was essentially rigid at this point, her lungs stuffed up with air. She put out something like a laugh.

“Did you like my dancing?”

“You’re very good,” Leoni offered politely, detached.

“Thanks. Would you like a private dance?”

“Oh, no thanks no offence, I -. I -.”

“You’re friends thought you might like it.”


One of the dancer’s bare arms disappeared and then reappeared under Leoni’s chin with a number of green bills in the hand. “They gave me all this money if you’ll let me dance for you.”

Leoni started to turn her head toward the dancer’s, but she was too close; Leoni somehow felt the closeness of their cheeks before she had turned very far. How does the body do that? Is it the heat? Some kind of static-electrical thing?

“I’m sorry, you’re a very good dancer but I just don’t…I don’t…go…that way.”

“You shouldn’t knock it ’till you try it,” the dancer cooed.


“Don’t worry about it; you don’t have to like it like that. Just let me dance. It’s a nice change dancing for a woman like you, instead of all these horny jocks. We can even just go to the back room and talk for half an hour if you want.”

“Half and hour?”

“They pooled a lot of money to get you back there with me. Come on, give me a chance; this is the easiest money I’ll make all night.”

“I don’t know.”

“Now the dancer brought her lips against Leoni’s ears – Leoni thought they actually touched at one point – and whispered just audibly. “Come on. I’ll even give you twenty. Pull one over on your friends.” She reached down and slipped a bill into Leoni’s loosely-buttoned blouse, slid it over her right breast, just far enough for the edge to tickle her nipple.

Leoni leaned her head away so that she could turn to face the dancer without rubbing noses, though even so they almost did. The dancer’s breath was sweet and fresh, and her eyes were astounding up close. The irises were brown but the colour had such depth, and a warm radiance to it. The whites were white even in the dark light, and the lashes, the shape of the eyes, the eyebrows, were all exquisite, more like a retouched photo, Leoni thought, than a real woman’s eyes. Her nose was fine and long enough and under it her lips, the upper one fine, with so much shape, like an archery bow –

No, Leoni didn’t think she should be looking at her lips. That would send another wrong message.

“You’re very beautiful.”

Leoni regretted saying it immediately. Why did she have to say that? It was an innocent thing. It was like she was compelled to say it by all those features, by the shape of this woman’s face, the perfect flesh tone of her skin. It was a kind of plain admission, of a truth so profound and rare that it had to be spoken as a kind of duty, a vigil before the threat of all the shameful denials swirling through the place, that place the did not hold things of such beauty. It was not meant as flattery, and only slightly as a compliment. It was certainly not meant as a pick-up line.

But this woman’s smile now.

“Come on back.” She rose up and took Leoni’s hand and led her out of the chair and towards a doorway. Something else had captured the guys’ attention, but now they noticed the two leaving and celebrated it with much hollering and whooping. Leoni was too afraid to look back at them. Her guilty fearful indecent thrill had incapacitated her. She took the twenty out of her top before it fell. The dancer might have led her nearly anywhere.

“What’s your name?” the dancer asked when they had entered a dim hallway.


“Hmmm. Great name. Sexy name.”

They walked a short way quietly.

“What’s your name?” Leoni asked, upset with herself for not asking sooner.


“Is that your real name?”

“You want to know my real name?”

Leoni shrugged. “Sure, yeah.”

“Ahh, but then you’ll have me at a disadvantage.” Cherry stopped and gestured Leoni through a heavy curtain, into a small round room.

“What do you mean?” Leoni asked, entering.

“Well a name is a very personal thing.”

“I had my fingers on your ass.” Another thing to regret saying.

“Exactly. You’ve seen my chest, my ass, even my pussy. You’ve touched me in a rather personal place. You sucked the taste of me off your fingers.”

She had seen that!

“How was it, by the way?”

Leoni tried to shake off the question with a movement of her eyes.

“And on the other hand, I know your name. Leoni. If I were to tell you my name, then it would be all unbalanced again. After all, I haven’t seen your tits or your pussy. You haven’t let me put my fingers on your ass.” Now playfully: “I’m still left here wondering what you taste like.”

“I never saw your pussy.” Leoni nodded down towards Cherry’s miniskirt, a very short white one, stretched tightly around her hips and across her crotch. It matched her white bikini top.

“No?” Cherry was surprised, and then sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I think it’s the best part of the act, when my lips finally peek out around the thong. I even spread them for you after. I bent over and showed you the way up inside me.”

Leoni’s eyes went a bit wide. It was strange that this woman had just said that to her.

“So why does a straight girl like you come to a place where girls dance naked?” Cherry moved over to the deeply cushioned sofa bench that curved around with the wall. She did it in that silky way that only women can, the sway of her bum inexplicably alluring. Then she turned and fell down into the cushions, her arms spread across the top of the sofa. Her white top made her lightly tanned breasts so round.

Leoni remained standing. “I came with those guys. We’re at the university.”

“Ahh. But even so, why come?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we should figure it out before you leave.”

“What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“Hey, that’s not fair. No questions for questions.”

“Tell me. What do you think it means?”

Leoni looked at her. “I’m afraid you think that when I was watching your breasts and feeling your ass, it turned me on. That after all your talk about your pussy, I want to see it.”

“Actually, I was just thinking you came to impress the guys. But did it, then?”

“Impress the guys?”

“No. Did it turn you on at all?”


“And do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you want to see it?”

“Oh. No. Thanks.”

Cherry smiled. “Your friends paid me; I would love to show you. I can take all this off right now and you can look over every inch of me. Do you want to see my tits again?” Cherry put a thumb in her shoulder strap.

“No. That’s alright.”

“Have you been bored since you got here, to the club?” Cherry asked, lowering her arm and leaving her shoulder strap in place.

For the first time, Leoni smiled with her teeth. “Not bored, no. Whatever this is, it’s definitely not boring.”

“You’ve been excited,” Cherry suggested. “Things you’ve seen, things you’ve done. Things done to you. Things that you’ve been told you shouldn’t do, or seen done. Those are always the best, aren’t they? Hasn’t your blood been pumping?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. It just has to be true.”

“Well I’m nervous as hell standing here. I guess that’s a form of excitement.”

“Do you want to go?”

Leoni paused before speaking. “No. That’s alright.”

Cherry smiled wryly. “Don’t you see why you’re here?”

Leoni stood there contemplating words for what seemed like a long time. “For the thrill.”

“Of course. The naughty thrill. We all like a naughty thrill. And you got a naughty little thrill putting those bills in my g-string, having to lay your fingers there on my nude body, on those sensitive parts where you know – as a woman – how the touch might feel to me. Right? Sure you did. You got a thrill when I winked at you. You were scared shitless, probably, but what a thrill, am I right?”


Cherry’s eyes changed, from provocative to tender. “I like your tits.”

Leoni looked down at her chest.

Cherry watched her a few moments. “Thrill?”


“Wasn’t it fucking thrilling just hearing me say that?”


“I really do like your tits. They’re fucking hot. I can see your nipples from here.” The booth was quite dim. “Now say the thrilling thing.”


“Say it.”


“Come on, do it. Be a bad girl, if just for five seconds.”

Leoni’s chest heaved up slowly with air.

Cherry’s eyes were on her. Cherry whispered it now: “Say it.”

Leoni puller her lips apart until the words tumbled out: “Would you like to see them?”

She had shocked Cherry, she was sure of it. It was fleeting, but it was there on Cherry’s face, in the way her neck straightened. What had she said? Leoni blushed and smiled, embarrassed.

“Oooh, you do want to be a bad girl,” Cherry said lightly, pleasantly. “Sure, show me.” The dancer leaned forward on the couch, presenting an impressive view of her own cleavage. “Show me your tits, Leoni.”

Leoni was still trying to comprehend that she had actually offered to show this stripper her breasts. Could she really take off her shirt here? She looked to the curtain.

“It’s just us in here. Just me.” Cherry pulled a bill out of her purse and set it on the table in the middle of the booth, between her and Leoni. “I’ll even pay you twenty bucks to show me. Women at the pool must have seen them, or at the gym.” Cherry ran her eyes down and up Leoni’s slender build. She had a narrow waist but wide hips, and long thin legs shrink-wrapped in extra low-rise jeans. “How many women have seen your tits, Leoni?”

Cherry had a point. This was strange, but it wasn’t a big deal, really. Cherry saw breasts every day, all kinds of impressive ones too, parading around on stage, in the change rooms. She probably had casual conversations with women wearing nothing at all, like it was normal, maybe while they sat in chairs before a long mirrored wall, working on their makeup before the show.

“Am I allowed?”

“Please, no one minds chicks getting naked in a strip club. Next show, I can get you naked on stage if you’d like.”

“I’ll pass on that.”

“Well back here it’s just you and me and no one’s going to care. You have a roommate?”


“Imagine I’m your roommate. I could be your roommate; why not? We could live in the same flat next year.”

Leoni reached up to her topmost button. She had offered; she would do it. Why not?

“Just one more woman seeing you topless.”

Leoni’s fingers went to work on the button, and then the next. There in their wake was her sternum, delicate like porcelain.

“Of course there’s no swimsuit this time, no shower to be taken. That is a little different, isn’t it?”

Leoni hesitated.

“I mean this time there’s only the woman. You’re not a swimmer here; you’re not a runner. You’re her sexual object.”

Leoni stopped.

“You are, aren’t you? Why else is your blouse half open? You’re like a peacock, fanning its feathers for me, Leoni. And it’s soo sexy. I love it that you want to turn me on.”

“Jesus you’re incredible.”

“I’m just upping the ante. Do you mind that I like your tits?”

“Well, n-. No. I don’t suppose I mind. I’m flattered.”

“Do you mind that you like my tits?”

Leoni furrowed her brow.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know what. Not because it means something, but just because it’s true.” Leoni’s mouth hung down. She thought, and then she lowered her eyes and began to unbutton more of her blouse. There were her abs, subtle and smooth, and her belly button, withdrawn.

“There’s nothing like saying it,” Cherry pressed. “Say it. You’ll thank me.” Leoni looked at Cherry. Leoni’s blouse hung down straight on either side now, still concealing her nipples.

“Just say it, girl.”

“You have nice breasts.”

“Your sister has nice breasts. Your aunt has nice breasts. What do I have?” Cherry straightened up, presenting them. There was no sense in lying; it was obvious:

“You have great breasts.”


“Yes. Beautiful.”


“What’s wrong with beautiful?”

“It depends how you meant it.”

“I meant it like…” But Leoni gave up the explanation, confused. “Okay, sexy.”

“You find my breasts sexy?” Cherry said this in a mischievous way. She had put her thumb back under her left shoulder strap. Leoni seemed torn.

“Try calling them tits. Go on.”

Leoni made an indifferent face, scrunching her lips and raising her eyebrows. “This is silly: you have sexy tits.” But somehow it was different saying it that way.

And to compound it, Cherry pulled the strap slowly over her shoulder. It hung down after but the top itself rested on her breasts. Leoni hadn’t expected anything more; the act only really served to draw attention to Cherry’s smooth bare shoulder, which was – to be honest – really beautiful, in the same kind of way that her breasts were beautiful. It looked like it would be soft to the touch.

Cherry’s eyes were still prompting Leoni, unsatisfied.

“That’s not enough for you?” Leoni laughed a little. “Fine,” – she was looking at Cherry’s breasts again, intently – “you have…you have drop dead gorgeous tits. Yeah, that’s a pretty good word. Your tits are gorgeous, Cherry.” Indeed, Leoni now knew that was how she saw them. Maybe it sounded like some kind of admission to the stripper, despite Leoni’s nonchalance, but anyway it wasn’t. It was just a simple truth, and the words felt right coming out. Cherry was correct, though, about the little buzz Leoni got from saying them out loud, to a lesbian.

As Cherry slid the other strap over its shoulder, that buzz grew in the knowledge that Leoni’s words had also been, at least in part, a request. Yes, take off the strap. Well, why should she mind seeing Cherry’s breasts again? Heterosexual women weren’t supposed to dislike the sight of each other. Anyway, the top still rested in place on Cherry’s firm breasts, though they had come down just slightly, and become slightly more like teardrops in shape. Cherry was smiling a little more now, but her eyes went on beckoning, inviting, entreating.

“Yes, I like your tits, Cherry. I find your breasts sexy.” Leoni had enunciated the words deliberately, to make a little light of them. “I can admit that, woman to woman. It doesn’t mean I want to fuck you.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it’s turning me on anyway, so please do go on: tell me what you like about them. Why do you find my breasts sexy? Please Leoni, I would like to hear you tell me.” Cherry set another twenty dollar bill on the table.

“Well, for twenty bucks, they’ve got a great shape.”


“The form; it’s like they were carved by an artist.”

Cherry seemed suddenly touched. “Really?”

“Yeah. And the skin. It looks soft and has a nice colour.”

“Now you’re too kind.”

“No, really. And -. Well, and the nipples are good. Sexy. Right now, in the white top, I can still see their shape, puffy but without the long tips like mine.”

“I like your nibs.”

Leoni looked down again at her open top, at the nipples poking into the hanging fabric. “Nibs?” She laughed. “Well, thanks.”

“What was it like to watch my breasts on stage, for you? To have me move them around for you?”


Cherry pouted. She reached behind her back for the clasp of her top but didn’t undo it. “Just weird? Is that all you felt? How did you feel when you first saw them?”

Leoni was expecting to be shown them now, any second. “I don’t know,” she answered. “Envious.”

“Do you envy my ass?” There was no showing, but Cherry still held her hands behind her back.

“No. I think I have a nice ass.”

Cherry smiled. “Do you think I have a nice ass too?”

“Yes, you definitely have an A1 ass. Anyone can see that.”

“Well if you don’t envy my A1 ass, then how did you feel when you saw it? How did you feel sucking its perfume off your fingers?

“Naughty. Afraid.”

“Sucking or watching?”


“And watching?”

“I don’t know…” She paused to summon the memories. “I guess I felt alright.”


“Yeah…” To her own amazement, the feeling suddenly recurred for Leoni, fully and clearly – perhaps more clearly even than before. Immediately she knew she shouldn’t even try to express it. But she did: “You know, all right.”

“Like Friday night all right? Like after a toke all right?”

“Yeah, that all right.” She couldn’t help feeling happy that Cherry had understood, even while the dancer giggled demurely. Even while she undid the clasp behind her back and removed her top entirely. Her breasts were still equal to any words Leoni might have used. Leoni stared at them openly, buoyed up in the air by their own form, the nipple mounds aiming a little upwards, a little outwards.

It was strange, being shown them like that, and accepting the view. Leoni felt she should say something. The something ended up being: “Thank you.” Thank you? she chided herself. Thank you in that soft little voice?

“Are you pleased that you touched my ass?” Cherry asked of the redhead when their eyes met. “Be honest.” Cherry breathed in and her breasts rose. Leoni’s eyes wandered – down and all over their gentle curves. Cherry smiled.

Leoni caught the smile but kept looking, and now wondering. Why were her eyes so drawn to these breasts? “Do you suppose most women like to look at other women’s breasts?” she asked Cherry, surprisingly unguarded.

“From time to time,” Cherry replied tenderly. “Some more, some less.”

“Well you’re a very lucky woman. It’s hard to look away from yours. And yes, I was kind of glad I’d touched your ass, after the show.”

“And now?”

“Yeah. Why not, right?”

“Do you regret that you missed the end of my act?”

“Sort of.”

“You’ve wondered about my pussy.” Cherries eyes were right on Leoni’s. Leoni tried not to blink. “You’ve pictured it.”

“Well, sure. Of course.”

“Of course?”

“Well -.”

“There’s no ‘of course’, Leoni. What do you think my pussy looks like?”

Leoni turned her head a bit, again embarrassed. But what the hell? What was the harm? She’d said so much already, and this was all but a bit of truth between girls. “Okay, really, if it turns you on to hear it, I pictured it shaven. That’s what I thought for some reason watching your pretty bum prance off the stage. Not a single strand of hair.”

Cherry looked pleased. “My pretty bum?”

“Yes, you have a very pretty bum. Actually, there’s a part of me that wants to squeeze it. Seriously. Just a squeeze. Just to see if it’s real. Are your breasts real?” The question had stricken Leoni suddenly, and came out likewise.

“Every inch.” Cherry was beaming.

“That’s good. And your pussy has big lips, hanging down, kind of dark. That’s how I picture it anyway. Everything totally smooth except the lips, all wrinkly but soft.” Leoni’s legs were getting tired from standing. She lowered herself into the cushions behind her, leaned forward on her knees. The flanks of her shirt hung down away from her. “I pictured a very fine pussy.”

“I’ve pictured your pussy too.” Cherry was looking down at Leoni’s crotch. Leoni became aware of how wide her legs were spread. “I’m picturing it right now.”

Leoni sat there. She didn’t move her legs.

“Does it make you uncomfortable that I’m picturing your pussy?”

“Kind of.”

“Do you mind?”

“I-. No.”

“What don’t you mind? Tell me.”

“You just said it.”

“I want you to hear it from your own lips.”

“Okay, I don’t mind you picturing my pussy.”

“Do I have your permission to picture your pussy whenever I want?”

“Sure. Okay.”

“I’m going to masturbate picturing your pussy, you know that?”

Leoni laughed nervously. She ran her fingers through her thick red hair. “I guess.”

“Oh girl! Did you mean to do that? You just showed me your nipple there. By lifting your arm, by leaning just a little to the side.” The two sat quietly for a minute. Cherry had brought her legs together, tight together. “Did you mean to do that?”


“You naughty bitch.” It was said softly and it was not an insult. “I’m going to masturbate with the image of your tits in my head too you know, both of them, once you take your blouse off. I’m going to run a finger over my clit, remembering what you look like topless.”

“With all the tits you see around here?”

“Yes. I told you, I think yours are fucking hot.”

“Is this all an act?”

“Would you rather that?”

“It wouldn’t seem right.”

“It’s not an act. I Think Your Tits Are Fucking Hot. I think you’re fucking hot, Leoni. Did you hear the lesbian tell you that? She wants to fuck you. The beautiful lesbian with the gorgeous breasts. The A1 ass. The very fine pussy. Or so you imagine.”

Leoni nodded.

“Do you mind?”


“You don’t mind that a lesbian stripper has you sitting in front of her in a private booth with your blouse undone and is actually feeling the lubrication welling up in her loins from picturing your beautiful red bush?” Cherry was looking at Leoni’s crotch again.


“From imagining your lips, your folds, your clit?”

“You are?”

“Yes. Do you mind?”

“I guess not.”

“Would you be happier if I wasn’t?”


“So you like me looking at your pussy. You want it to turn me on.”


“Let’s do that last question again: would you be happier if there weren’t a lesbian dreaming about your pussy? Look at me. Would you rather I didn’t want to taste your girl cum?”

Somehow it was true: “No.”

“And what does that imply?”

“That I like it. That I like you looking at me. Wanting me.”

“That you find pleasure in the sexuality of a lesbian.”

“A kind of pleasure.”

“Are you wet at all? Don’t bullshit me.”


“So it’s pussy pleasure after all, then, isn’t it? Say what you want, the proof is in your panties. Your pussy likes its lesbians.” That didn’t sound right to Leoni, but she couldn’t see how to argue the point. “Accept it Leoni: your slit spits for chicks.”

“It what?”

“You heard me.”

“All this is just between you and me.”

“Of course. I understand you don’t have to be a lesbian to like the look of another woman’s tits. To wonder what intimacy would be like, with her. Even to imagine your tongue running along her labia, for that matter. A lot of women think about other women sometimes. And I also know a lot of people don’t understand that. You know, Leoni, I fuck guys too.”

“How many girls have you fucked?”

“Take off your blouse.”

Leoni considered this for a moment and then worked the thin material down off her shoulders. The blouse actually caught on one of her nipples before it came away in her hand. She could hear her heart. Cherry’s eyes were riveted to her nipples; Leoni could feel them.

“I’ve fucked twelve girls,” Cherry said. “But Jesus you’ve got fucking spicy tits.”

“Do you fuck the girls here?” Leoni asked, trying not to slouch away.

“The dancers?”


“I’ve fucked one. Twice.”

“She was good, then?”

“I’ve had better but I came.”

For half a minute they only looked at each other, the eyes, the breasts. Then Cherry said: “I’m going to cum tonight thinking of how I got this straight girl to take off her top for me. How I got her to admit she thinks my tits are gorgeous and even to think about tasting my pussy juice.”

“I never thought about that.”

“You’re about to.” Cherry waited silently. After a few seconds, she spread her legs a little and forced her crotch forward on her seat. Leoni looked. Cherry smirked. “Anything else you haven’t thought of yet?”

Leoni dropped her head.

“Why don’t I show you my pussy now. You know, to give you some more material for tonight, when you’re thinking of me and fingering yourself.”

Leoni looked up.

“Can I show you my pussy now?”


Cherry smiled and rose and began to dance, coming around the table and very close to Leoni. A couple of times, she swung her breasts nearly across Leoni’s lips. Leoni was sitting up straight, afraid to lean too close, not wanting to recline away. Before long, Cherry slid her miniskirt off, revealing her thin white g-string. She did this facing away from Leoni, bending over so that the bare cheeks of her ass brushed Leoni’s bare nipples. Then she stood again and threw the miniskirt away. From the front, Leoni could see the shape of Cherry’s labia through the fabric of the thong. They were huge; it was scandalous. Leoni realized she was smiling, that she was tingling all over. She looked up at Cherry’s face and Cherry was smiling too. Cherry moved still closer and straddled Leoni’s legs. Her breasts were at Leoni’s chin, fantastic, erotic. Leoni became aware of just how wet she was. Cherry was undulating in her lap. Leoni leaned ever so slightly forward and her upper lip brushed Cherry’s nipple. Cherry leaned back. “Uh, uh, uh,” she said. “Clients aren’t allowed to touch.” Then she smirked. “Only I can touch.”

Cherry resumed her dance, coming off Leoni’s lap and lowering the ties of her g-string teasingly. Leoni saw now that Cherry was wet too, that the fabric of the g-string was slightly transparent. It did seem that Cherry might be clean shaven. When the thong was nearly off, Cherry turned around and presented her bum. “What would you like to do to my bum?” she asked.

“Kiss it,” Leoni answered.

Cherry looked back over her shoulder, coy. “I thought you just wanted to give it a squeeze.”

Leoni smiled apologetically.

“You can kiss it if you want.”

And Leoni wasted no time; she pressed her lips into it, felt its firmness, its perfect skin. Smelled its perfume right against her nostrils with her nose bent to one side.

Just then, Cherry bowed down and Leoni saw suddenly that the g-string was gone. She was looking right at Cherry’s sopping pussy, framed between her legs. She could smell it; her nose was almost between Cherry’s cheeks. She didn’t know what to make of the smell, but it didn’t repulse her. Then Cherry went on to bend down so low that Leoni could see she had no hair around her pussy at all. The area near her lips was pale and smooth and innocent. Leoni knew that she loved it. She wanted to say it. Out loud. Yes.

“I love your pussy, Cherry. I do. You have the most wonderful pussy. I wish I had your pussy between my legs.”

“That can be arranged.” Cherry whirled around and put her hands on Leoni’s thighs. She leaned in so that they could feel their breath on each other’s faces again. When she spoke, she made their lips come very close. It was all Leoni could do not to make them touch.

“Did you know there’s a camera in the ceiling?”


“A security camera, in case you get rowdy.”

“You said it was just us.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Is someone watching?”

“Should be.”


“No one you’ll ever meet, I’m sure. No one who’ll know your name.” Cherry retreated and lay on the table, her legs spread wide for Leoni, her slit just parting. As she went back, her breasts changed shape fluidly, sensuously, rolling outwards. She was propping herself up on her elbows. It wasn’t fair she had such a pretty smile. “Will you show us your bush?”

Leoni looked up. “I don’t know…”

“You just said you loved pussy, Leoni.”

“Your pussy.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Fuck, I would never have said that -.”

“Show me, then. Show me you mean it. Show the lucky woman on the other end of the camera you mean it.”

“It’s a woman?”

“I think it’s a woman. Sometimes it’s a woman. Please show us your pussy. Do you see me leaking on the table?” She was. “Make me happy, Leoni. Just show me, that’s all. Show the lesbian your most private place. Show her you understand how she feels.”

Leoni reached down and popped out the three buttons of her fly so that it hung open in a short but revealing V. Her panties were thin and black and unable to entirely contain her violent red pubic hair.

Cherry giggled playfully. “Don’t ever shave,” she said.

“Are you making fun?”

Cherry shook her head sincerely and Leoni knew that she wasn’t. “Leoni, I do fuck guys but I prefer girls. Girls like you. That’s why I feel I’m a lesbian. I don’t mind being a lesbian; I like it. I’ve learned to get no end of pleasure from women and I think I’ll always choose pussy over cock now, given the choice. But there was a time I figured I was straight and thought I was as happy as I could be. I had to forget a lot of things I’d been told and discover women when I was seventeen.” Cherry’s eyes were so mysterious, so playful, so soothing. “A woman doesn’t have to be a lesbian to ogle another woman’s nipples, no. But let’s be clear about you and have a look at your panties, Leoni. All of them.”

Leoni bowed her head to look on her crotch. Cherry gave her time – but not too much.

“Are you afraid I’m going to remark on how skimpy those panties are? Ask you who you were trying to impress at the strip club? Do you think the satin will be plastered round the folds of your lubed-up lips? Or that if you go so far as to be standing there in nothing but your panties, exhibiting all your womanly curves for me, you’ll be naked next and there won’t be any way to stop it?”

“That pretty much sums it up.”

“You may not have a chance like this again, Leoni. But you’re right to be afraid, and you should probably run away from me right now. At this point I imagine you could still lie to them, out there, and maybe to yourself. On the other hand, if you stay, then by the time you finally peel off your panties here, you really won’t feel any desire to call yourself a straight girl. I can promise you, when you go back out there and Chad or that edible little tart beside you brings it up, you’re going to make sure they know. Because your pussy at least will be pleased about it. And because you’ll be considering how much you’d like to fuck the tart.”

Leoni seemed despondent. “You know, I think she is a dyke.”

“Great! Would you fuck her? Do you think she’s fuckable?”

“She’s a bit slutty.”

“And that stiffs your clit, doesn’t it?”

“It what?” Leoni huffed. But: “Yeah. Yes. Holy shit. Kelly stiffs my clit.”

“What was her name again?”

“Kelly. Oh my god. I can’t believe I’m thinking of Kelly and feeling this.”

“Do me a favour?”


“Confess to Kelly that you think she’s fuckable, when you get back out there.”

“Oh, I -.”

“Promise me, and take off your jeans while you’re at it.”

“I can’t tell Kelly that!”

“I’ll tell you my name.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

Leoni stood up and worked her jeans down over her wide hips. “Okay, so who are you?”

“You promise to tell Kelly?”

“I promise.” The jeans were at her knees. Cherry was looking over Leoni’s fiery mane, across her back while her head dipped forward.



“That’s right.”

Leoni got the jeans off and stood straight. “Shearer. Leoni Shearer.”

Cherry smiled. “Samantha Sarrelli.”

“Well, Samantha, here I am.”

“Actually, there’s one little piece of – very wet – black satin in the way.”

Putting her thumbs in the straps of her panties, Leoni asked: “Does this mean I’m a lesbian?” She smiled wryly but weakly. “You said I’d be a lesbian before I stripped off my panties here. That I’d want to be a lesbian.”

“I hope so, because your pussy is clearly queer, and I suppose it would be hard on a straight girl to have a queer pussy. But I think your nipples are queer, too; you’re rock hard. And your left arm at least, which wanted so much to bare your rock-hard tit to another woman. Look at your eyes, Leoni, they’re back on my chest every five seconds. Yeah, just like that. And I can charm them right now with my clean shaven womanhood.” Samantha swayed her hips about so that her bare slit was opening and closing and tracing circles in the air. Leoni didn’t look away, though it went on a daringly long time.

“You’re aroused by it, aren’t you?”

Leoni nodded.

“So tell me then, Leoni: When you shower tomorrow, with all the other girls, the tall ones with long hair and the short ones with huge breasts, maybe the blonde fox that all the boys are after, will you finally let yourself see their femininity with more than your eyes, with your dyke-smitten clit?”

Samantha had stopped moving but Leoni’s gaze was still on her bald pussy.

“You do have a queer pussy, don’t you Leoni?”

“Somehow, yes.”

“It’s going to feel good when you see the other girls, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Shit.”

“Are you ready to accept that?”

“I don’t think I have a choice now.”

“How about this: are you ready to accept that you’ll be back in someplace like this before long, for yourself? That you’ll be hanging out in different clubs? Making eyes with different strangers?”

“Will I?”

“That you’re going to start dreaming about your roommate – is she hot?”

“Not ex-. Well, you might say, yeah. She’s cute.”

“Do you plan on watching her when she changes next time, and maybe arranging some excuses for her to see you naked? Like coming out of the shower with the towel on your head. Or: ‘What do you think of this bra? – no let me put this other one on.’ Are you going to say things like: ‘Oh come on, as if you haven’t seen my tits before,’ and shake them for her?”

“She’s not -.” But Samantha was wiggling her own tits back and forth. They were the most womanly things Leoni had ever seen, and she couldn’t help but stop and smile and let the air out of her lungs.

“Oh honey,” Samantha laughed sympathetically, “you look like a puppy. Look at your eyes.” She got off the table and went up to Leoni. After taking in some more of her eyes, Samantha wrapped her arms around Leoni tenderly, putting her chin over the redhead’s shoulder and pressing their breasts together.

Leoni’s eyes were closed. She had no thoughts that fit in words. Her hands were on this woman’s bare back, her shoulder blades, her waist, the crest of her bum. Her skimpy panties were heavy. And then she felt them sliding down, though they stuck at first in her cunt. Samantha was descending with them, her spiky hair tickling Leoni’s nipples, then her belly, then her pubes.

“Smile for the camera, honey.”

Leoni couldn’t say no. It was too much. She threw back her head with a helpless grin as she felt – for the first time – the warm breath of another woman coursing over her clit.

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