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Working Girls

Category: Lesbian Sex
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I enjoy working late.

I am a transcriptionist, and can get more done when the hub-bub of a packed law office has quieted.

One thing though, this old office building is about as tightly insulated as a bridge, and creaks as badly as my forty-mumble year old knees.

I find myself getting up from my desk at least once an hour to see if somehow an earthquake hasn’t hit, as my geology professor called it, the Laurentian Plateau.

Wow, talk about good distant memory, now what was it I had for lunch exactly?

Most of the time, I guess when a wind gust seems to shake the building and I go to the hallway to look around, there is this young, well about 30ish, brunette who seems to have the same worries I do about being buried under ancient cement and gargoyles.

We smile, nod, and never really say much except, “Oh, you too?” and laugh nervously.

That was until last week.

We both decided at the same time to head for the break area in the basement for coffee.

There is always fresh coffee, and the automatic machines are at cost, so it is really economical to spend breaks there.

She entered the elevator after calling out for me to hold it.

Breathless, she smiled meekly and finally turned to face the front of the car just as though it were full instead of just the two of us.

She wore a decent work day dress, low heels, and her perfume was Charly, probably the only scent she had ever tried.

I knew she wasn’t a young aspiring law clerk, they never even look at anyone but the assistants to the partners, junior or senior.

She turned rather shyly, and introduced herself as Beth and asked me how long I had been working for and rattled off the endless list of partners to one of the oldest law firms in Christendom.

I smiled broadly at that recitation and replied that I had been with them for over 20 years.

I also finally told her my name, Juanita. Ok my dad had this perverse attraction to the Andy Griffith show on television and Barney Fife’s telephone girlfriend, ok?

Now stop snickering.

I definitely don’t look like a Juanita. Pale skin, tons of freckles and mousey brown hair.

I do, however, sport a fairly decent pair of marimbas if I do say so myself, and yes, I have what can be described as a Latin “botin”.

She got her coffee and something from a machine before I did and moved to a corner table. I looked around, shrugged and juggling my coffee, sweet roll, jelly, napkins, knife, and so forth, looked over and raised my eyebrows to ask if she wanted company.

Her smile brightened and said loud enough, “Yes.”

As I piled the tabletop with my plunder I asked how long she had been with the firm, etc.

I also said, “Except for those few words when the building shakes I was afraid you were too quiet.”

Her reply was, “I better not be too quiet my last job was receptionist at…”, and she rattled off another string of crusty old white men’s names, half of whom have been dead since the turn of the last century.

I liked her wit.

She told me she was working as a temporary hire for a statistical research relative to a major business case for the firm. Sort of a hired brain to sort through the results of the computer generated data.

My head was swimming after the first mention of ratios and instances of occurrence.

Beth noticed and just said, “Yeah. I’m a nerd.”

She disarmed me with that so I changed the topic to what usually gets most women talking non-stop. Men.

I started by saying I am divorced, no children and not interested in dating.

That last was a lie, of course.

And I did not explain the exact cause of my divorce after ten years, she did not ask, and that was a surprise in itself.

She explained her own attitude about dating, but did not specifically mention any men in her past. She just did not have time, but that was said with a downcast of her brilliant blue eyes.

Time for break was up, and being the ever efficient employee I am just said so, gathered the trash from the table and headed for the elevator.

Beth followed and once again faced the front of the car without another word until she said, “Maybe see you later, Juanita. Or most likely the next rafter rattling wind gust.”

Almost droll, but with only a slight up-curl of her lip.

Of course the rest of the evening was like a scene from Moby Dick with the city becalmed though no one had any interest in taking to boats and rowing.

The next two nights were repeats of the first without the wind.

Almost on cue we both took break and lunch at the same time and just the two of us enjoyed getting to know each other more.

Even with the age gap I liked her, but was surprised on Friday night when she placed her hand on my wrist over the table and asked, “Do you have any plans for dinner tomorrow night?”

It nearly felt as though Beth were asking me on a date. I quickly put that thought out of my mind. She did not display the slightest hint of any gay tendencies, but still, a tiny knot formed in the pit of my stomach as I answered that I was free.

Free? Heck, I was emancipated, unfettered, entirely empty dance card.

We gathered our trash again and rode the elevator back to our floor.

She finalized the “date” by opening her Blackberry to add my address and phone number.

“Fine. Give me your address and I will pick you up at 7:30. I have a friend with a small bistro who can always find a table for me even on Saturday night.

“Actually more than a friend. We attended the Math and Science Academy and both had scholarships to the same college for undergraduate studies. I stayed the nerd, and she broke free, went to culinary school and the rest is history in a small way.”

Beth’s face was animated when she talked about the first information about her past.

“Nothing fancy. Wear something like your usual business dress, but something to show those foxy legs,”

With that she darted into her office and closed the door which locked behind her.

The rest of the night passed quickly. I really didn’t give the exchange much thought. It is not all that uncommon for girlfriends to have a nice dinner out, even on Saturday night, right?

And I did feel Beth was becoming someone I could like even if she was temporary and I most likely would not keep in touch once she moved on.

Only the next day did I reflect on what the potential might be.

Why hadn’t I taken her numbers, why didn’t I at least know how to contact her, to be able to beg off?

I could always greet her at the door in a bathrobe and chugging Nyquil. No, that happened to me once before, and I am so glad he did that to me.

No, I was going through with this. What harm? Dinner… couldn’t hurt.

I took care with my clothes.

She said show my legs. I do have a forest green sheath which shows off my attributes fore and aft, so to speak.

I looked at my usual underwear and hunted down under the WalMart specials for satin rose colored matching panty and bra. I normally wear pantyhose, but found a new pair of nude thigh highs.

I do have a nice pair of ankle booties, but realize that I am not that fashionable, darn it.

Settled for black pumps, though a paprika sling back pair just called out for me to be daring.

I finished my makeup and found accessories just as the doorbell rang

Beth stood at the door wearing a cap sleeve silk dress.

She had draped what seemed to be a Spanish mantilla around her shoulders and wore large hoop earrings.

I looked at her and asked, “This is just dinner, isn’t it? I mean…” and stammered to a halt.

Beth grinned warmly and remained quiet.

Her first words were, “Don’t you look simply wonderful.” and told me to grab my clutch and close the door behind me.

As we walked she was animated, much more so than on our breaks.

“You will love this bistro, intimate, great food, and a short walk to my apartment for after dinner drinks.”

I hadn’t felt this excited to be in the company of another woman in ages.

Appearing attentive, I rode the “Way-back Machine” to the last woman who had stirred me as Beth was now.

In college just everyone seemed to experiment with all sorts of things, drugs, light weed use for me, drinking, and sex.

The guys were all just blurred ghosts, even when I lost my virginity to that Teaching Assistant in the office of the chemistry lab. Forever after that I wondered if maybe I should have taken biology that semester, at least the staff might have known more about anatomy…and stamina.

The GLBT group was scary to say the least.

Burly what I came to know as “butch”, mousy somewhat submissive girls, militants, you name it and they were very vocal and persistent.

As I was overly developed from eighth grade it was not uncommon for boys to stare at my chest, but when an especially gross and nasty “butch” leered and said, “Hey momma, I want to get lost in those tits.” did I come to the realization that sex was involved in their agenda.

Naïve? Me?

Just then another student intervened and told the butch to back off or she would be picking up her teeth from the concrete.

The first, and only, time I had been fought over, and it was two women, in public to boot.

The other student, her name was Jennifer, spoke in a diluted British accent and just grabbed my arm and lead me away.

When we turned a corner I thanked her and tried to explain that grateful as I was, I am not gay.

Jennifer laughed and said, “I never thought you were. I would kick that girl’s teeth out just to see her crawl on the ground. She, and her type give lesbians a bad face.”

That accent, wow, sent chills places I didn’t know I had!

To make a long story short, she seduced me. Big time seduced.

Inside an hour of protesting that I was not gay she had her face buried between my naked legs and ran her tongue for the first time up and down my soaked furrow.

Her lips glistened with my juices as she kissed me like I had never been kissed.

Her hands kneaded, and unlike boys, appreciated my breasts. Yes, didn’t maul them. Though she may have felt she was. But she kissed the big mounds with fiery lips, licked the moist undersides and buried her face in the deep valley all the while her fingers twisting my nipples.

When she suckled my areola, she sighed, she moaned almost as much as I was doing.

She kept at my breasts for what may have been a full hour before kissing down my belly and once more lapping my flood of creamy honey.

I had been masturbating for more years than I could count, and had found that a combination of fingers in my pussy and rolling my clit gave me the greatest orgasms.

Jennifer knew this. It was as though she had read my mind and instead of rolling my clitoris between thumb and finger, rolled the tip of her tongue round and round, spilling her spit over the pink nubbin.

Two fingers pumped aggressively into my, oh god!, cunt. Again for the first time that word was not a filthy derisive put down, but a sexually charged realization of womanhood.

Then, most remarkably, she found my G-spot.

Oh, I had read about it, seen diagrams in medical books passed around among teenaged girls, but had thought it was just a nice fiction. Something for dirty books and bragging tales from “easy” girls.

I knew not every woman has a specific spot, or not everyone is stimulated in the same way. When no one had ever touched mine, I thought nothing of it.

Jennifer found it.

I went off like a 4th of July National Mall fireworks display.

Lights, shaking shivering butt thumping, bed rocking fucking real super O!

She did not stop there, though.

Oh Lord no!

Jennifer rolled me onto my tummy and told me to draw my knees up under my chest.

That jutted my big ass up and out.

My pussy was still spasming and contracting. I thought she was going to do me doggie with one of those strapon things all dykes own.

Wrong. Not just then anyway.

I felt her hands smooth over my upraised asscheeks, she slapped each, but playfully, not to cause pain. Not the first time someone, (read boy) had slapped my botin, but this felt good.

She also murmured about my sweet looking, ripe, pear shaped butt, not my fat ass.

Then I felt it.

At first a wave of hot breath around my puckered rosebud.

Second, the tip of her tongue, pointy, wet, stiff flicking the star.

Jennifer purred.

She tickled my wrinkle and burrowed into the too easily loosening ring.

Her tongue was a magic wand, squirmy, wriggling, intent flesh fucking me in a unique way.

I whimpered and rolled my ass, pushing back and forth on my knees.

My mouth open gasping for breath.

My vaginal orgasm barely finished and a new wave of contracting muscle tightening orgasm beginning in a most unusual place.

I didn’t think. I reacted. I found out later I did speak, or mutter rather, “Fuck me, Oh fuck me, Jennifer.”

I did find that I shot my legs out, laying flat on my belly and ground my big tits into her mattress. She didn’t miss a tongue stroke though and I had another crashing Mother of All CUMS.

I hadn’t even noticed when we entered a cab, nor the short ride to a quiet street of small shops, a closed bread devoted bakery, and in front of a subterranean restaurant with a painted sign announcing “Inspired by Paris and Lovers”.

Now it was definitely looking like a date.

I hesitated before descending the three concrete steps to the sturdy wooden door.

Beth took my elbow and escorted me down the steps and through the door.

I felt rather like Alice falling into the rabbit hole.

I looked around the adequately lit dining room.

Couples predominated, though there was one table with a family just finishing a meal.

On further look, the couples were all, as with Noah, two by two, male and female.

The warning hackles on the back of my neck fell into place.

Or was it disappointment that made my shoulders sag a bit?

Wasn’t I desirable?

Too old?

Just then the owner, a slim tall woman, about the same age as Beth, came from the kitchen and gave her the Gallic cheek kisses, and took my hands to perform the same greeting.

Beth animatedly told me that this was Kristina, owner, chef and bottle washer.

“I don’t have to serve the tables at least,” joked the woman with the checkered apron and wide smile.

“So, you’re Juanita,” were the next words from Kristina as she continued to hold my hands and bob her head first to the right then the left, almost conspicuously not looking at the cleavage my dress allowed to pop forth.

Hackle time again, but a somewhat mellower feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Apparently Beth had been talking with her friend about me, and not in any particularly ugly manner.

Kristina, herself seated us at a small table near the kitchen, somehow single and pairs of women get those, don’t we?

While waiting for our drink order to be filled after the black clothed waitress had left the table Beth leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “I told you she had a table for me any time, not that it was exactly the best in the house.”

I smiled broadly at her comment and relaxed once more.

The dinner menu was on a chalk board, but Beth said as she knew the place best, did I mind if she ordered for us.

I rejoined that I was well prepared to pay my share to which she replied, “Nothing of the kind. I want to treat you for being my sole link to sanity on the midnight shift,” that with a clear sparkle in her eyes, or just the reflection of the twinkling candle.

I knew the bill would be at FOK rates, Friend of Kristina.

Dinner was fabulous, superbly roasted duck, salad Nicoise, and a marvelous pear poached in a fruity wine.

Sipping coffee after the dessert I looked into Beth’s eyes and asked one simple question.

“When did you determine to seduce me, Beth?”

For the first time she was flustered, turned a bright shade of red even in the romantic alcove’s candlelight.

“Honestly, I can’t exactly say. I know you are not gay, Juanita, but well, there is the ‘gaydar’ that sometimes detects a tiny blip instead of a full beep,” she chuckled.

Just then Kristina brought an artfully ribboned small white box and asked how we enjoyed the dinner.

“I have never had a better meal in my life!” I exclaimed.

Her long time friend still a bit taken aback by my question replied, “For an award winning chef I give it an adequate rating. Which means undoubtedly the best in the city.”

“Well, I need the table, and you freeloaders had best be on your way,” mock scowled the lanky chef.

Beth took a $100 bill from her wallet and pressed it into the hand of the waitress who was standing at her boss’ elbow.

Again quick pecks on each cheek for Beth and I from Kristina. I picked up the ornamentally wrapped package from the table to follow Beth.

But to where?

Her place, only a short walk from the restaurant?

Or take a taxi home, alone?

Beth must have had the same question and stood at the top of the stairs waiting for a decision from me.

I saw an ache, but also a resolve in her face that she may have overstepped.

“I hope there’s chocolate in this box,” I said as I slipped my arm into the crook of her arm.

“I also hope it truly is a short walk to your apartment, Beth. These shoes are killing me.”

Indeed it was a moderately short walk. One half block, two full, and a right turn to the vestibule of a four story brownstone.

I craned my neck and looked up the front, turned to Beth and sighed, “the top?”

“Afraid so,” was her reply.

Up the concrete steps to the entrance, she keyed the inner door and I drew my left foot up to remove my pump. I transferred the box and repeated the action with my right shoe and both hands full proceeded to the long climb.

Once inside I looked around.

I read, sure, what lonely woman doesn’t? But mostly Harlequin romances and other supermarket smut.

Beth had shelves filled with what looked at a glance to be technical manuals, text books, and a stack of magazines, the top of which was “Popular Science”.

Another shelf, however had more interesting books. A quick look at the book spines though showed that even the words, Gay, Lesbian, Homosexual leapt out they were for the main also relatively technical. Non-Fiction works from older texts, “The Feminine Mystic” and more recent books, “One in Every Ten”.

“Told you I’m a nerd.” The words startled me and I replaced a large picture book of various erotic paintings and sculptures.

“A very pretty one,” was my slow reply.

You could cut the tension with an emery board until Beth offered me a seat on the sofa and asked if I wanted anything.

I smoothed my skirt and sat, knees closed and stockinged feet flat on the Persian rug which filled the center of her living room.

She had only taken off her mantilla, even to staying shod in her three inch heels.

“What goes with whatever was in that mysterious pastry box?” I asked.

“Probably champagne,” Beth replied a bit more animated.

“So! It is chocolate! The ambrosia for lovers.”

I knew my words made Beth relax.

“Now, Juanita, just who is seducing whom?”

She sat next to me, and tucked her feet under her rump, half turned toward me and one arm around the back of the sofa over my shoulders.

I swallowed two, maybe three times before I worked up the words to say, “Beth, I never realized what you had thought of me. Your ‘gaydar’ is probably accurate. Just a little beep.”

I licked my lips and hadn’t noticed that I had taken her near hand in both of mine.

“I suppose it is an old story. I met and had a prolonged affair in college with a girl my age. It was fun, scary, wicked and incredibly erotic.

“Naturally I was no virgin when I met Jennifer, well maybe in that sense.

“She showed me how to be sensual, not just sexual. Everything, she did oral on me, me on her, she taught me how to enjoy a strapon. Enough that a few times I was relaxed enough to use one on her. She taught me kissing, I still try to draw into myself and kiss as she did when I am with a man I really am attracted to.”

Beth’s lips curled down at that last statement and I realized just what I had said.

I did not apologize but carried on.

“We lasted all of three months,” I said with a wistful look in my eyes.

“She knew I was, am not, a lesbian. And I realized I was not about to fall into the LUG, lesbian until graduation, category. I could not lead her on, nor could she share, especially with men.

“It was a gradual separation. I dated as I would, she did too.”

I think I saw Beth withdraw into her own thoughts as I recited that part of my sex life.

“There was one other affair,” I said.

“In fact it helped wax the skis on my divorce. A neighbor, much more adventurous than I.

Brief, incredibly intense, and doomed, of course.”

I enjoyed how Beth squirmed.

Once more taking her hand, I lifted the fingers to my lips and kissed them before continuing.

“No. It was not the cause of my divorce. I don’t think he ever knew about it, unless she mentioned it in her sleep.” My lip curled at that comment.

“I didn’t know about that until we had our very amicable split.”

As I made my recitation, Beth had taken off her shoes and dropped them to the floor.

She also leaned forward and started to nibble my neck.

I, wanting to be a good guest, tilted my head and exposed the steady thumping pulse for her to feel how my heart rate had quickened if she had any doubts lingering that I more than wanted her to make love with me.

She also placed her hand under my right breast and not exactly cupped it nor squeezed. Not even a caress, but her hand almost felt as though it floated just outside the shiny green bodice of my dress.

I turned my head and lowered my face to seek her lips in wordless supplication.

I exhaled a long sighing moan.

My lips parted and her tongue fluttered into my moist mouth.

So that was why we didn’t have any garlic with dinner.

All kidding aside, Beth was the second best kisser I have ever had the pleasure to, well, have the pleasure with.

I touched the silk covering her tummy, scratching the slick material with my moderately trimmed nails.

She purred.

Our initial kiss seemed to go on forever. Neither of us were tentative. Neither wishing to end our first melding of lips and exploring tongues.

Lips soft, yielding and demanding. First Beth, then I took the lead to gasp and take in air.

“Bed. My bed,” breathed Beth.

But first she stood and removed my clothing. Unzipping my dress to let it fall to the floor. She rather enjoyed that she had to take the front and pull it away from my boobs and I shimmied to feel the skirt and waist drop over my big butt.

I was down to panties and bra and my legs clad in nude thigh highs.

Stopping with me only partially unclad, Beth reached behind and loosened her dress. She had to shrug and I tugged the short sleeves from her shoulders.

Her breasts did not exactly “tumble” free, but there was a pleasant upthrust once the dress dropped to her waist.

Also, her boyish hips allowed it to fall freely revealing an exquisite lace boicut black panty.

No hose.

Now I felt antiquated. Her firm legs were bare as is the fashion.

We both stepped out of the puddles of cloth surrounding our ankles and taking her hand Beth lead me to her large bed.

Standing at the side of the queen sized four poster her hands swiftly undid my bra and she had her knees together as she swiveled downward, her thumbs drawing my sopping wet panties down my legs.

As she lowered her lips made contact with my fevered flesh.

Only a cursory nip to each breast and quick kisses at my sternum, the rippling tummy and resting over my mons.

Her kisses became rushed, hungry.

Her hands cupped my bare latin shaped “botin”.

Her hot breath flowed ceaselessly over my swollen pouty labia.

She growled as her lips nibbled and sucked the flesh.

I know my “petals” open easily. I am not tight and firm down there.

In fact my inner lips sag a bit, overuse, I don’t know?

Still she waggled her tongue and made the lips flap.

Her teeth grabbed one and she shook her head vigorously.

She bit, tugged and I thrust forward to rub my wet pussy against her cheeks and lips.

My knees crumpled against the side of her bed and I sat, then lay with my knees bent and Beth’s head bobbing at my crotch.

I remember…remember…my then firm pussy had to be pressured to open half as much as I was then.

Now I was not only fully blossomed, but at least no less my juices flowed freely which Beth lapped and slurped lustily.

She nearly gurgled, her face sliding side to side, her hair flailing my inner thighs.

When she ducked her neck and extended her long tongue she slipped deeply into the quivering inner grotto.

I was not nearly as poetic as my recounting now.

In fact I was nearly screaming, “Eat me! Damn you suck my cream. Lick my hot pussy, you dyke!”

I ground and tugged at her hair. Thrusting and jamming my hot pussy against her accepting greedy mouth.

Her lips sealed around the entrance to my vulva.

She hoovered my rippling inner vulva.

Her tongue thrust, wiggled, tickled, curled, lapped, licked.

Then she looked up, pulled her face back.

Her cheeks, lips, nose and chin were glowing with the evidence of my lust.

She winked and using her thumbs expertly once more pulled the hood apart and darted her tongue quickly to flick the tip of my clit.

She licked slowly, her eyes closed as though savoring a tasty tidbit.

Then her lips closed over it and she sucked.

Sucked? She drew it tight, full.

Almost explosively tight.


What is it about me that my “secret” of maximized clitoral climaxes are apparent to female lovers?

She suddenly released my pearl and lapped in long slurps through the loose puffy inner labia of my pussy and tickled once more the inner mouth of my vulva with her talented tongue.

My nyloned legs rubbed her arms, my legs splayed, my pelvis grinding and pumping up from my position at the edge of her bed.

Once more she rose to her full height. Her fingers slid into her boicut panties and I could see the lump of her fist as her hidden digits toyed with her excited pussy.

I pleaded, “Please. I want to taste you. I want to feel your cunt on my face. Your thighs clamped against my cheeks. I want you to give me your essence.”

She only smirked as her hand curved and the expression on her face went through stages of displaying simple self pleasure to an open mouthed gasping to a wicked almost evil grin.

“Want to taste me do you? You want my juices, taste the freshness of my overheated cunt,” she taunted?

“What else do you want?”

As she spoke she rubbed her pussy and then slithered out of her sticky black lace panties and exposed her smoothly shaved swollen but tight lips. They glistened with a sheen.

Tight but clearly excited with a mature look. Part way between the close, firm and nearly virginal tightness of Jennifer and the full slack “well used” pussy of my paramour in my later experience with Sapphic lust.

Almost in a dream I felt her draw my stockings down my legs and off, dropping both at the side of the bed.

“Finally. Deliciously naked,” she breathed the words. Her breasts full on her chest, her body taking on a strength. I could only tremble with desire as she preened in a conquering pose.

Beth picked up her wet panties and leaned over my body. She rubbed my full titties with the sodden crotch.

She nodded her head up to silently tell me to open my mouth before stuffing the wet panties into my face.

“Enjoy the taste, Juanita,” her face was a picture of lust and the answer of who seduced whom was answered.

After stroking my cheek with the fingers of one hand Beth lowered her face and took a nipple between her teeth and bit.

Not hard, just enough to send a jolt of electricity from the tip, whirl around the areola, seemingly glide down all surfaces of the mound and gently course throughout my body.

I think it didn’t get as far as my toes, I am not certain to this day.

My muffled reply was to shift my legs nervously, alright not nervous, but more anticipatory.

She did not fail to repeat the bite on the twin nubbin. I know that one got as far as my knees and tips of my ears.

The young brunette knelt on her legs at my side and began a long exploration of my big breasts.

Flicking the tip of her tongue one moment, then lapping the salty perspiration which had coated the upper valley of my widely parted mammaries.

She ignored my whimpering moans, my admonitions to please, please suckle, please take each stiffened peak and use them, abuse them, but please don’t tease me.

Deaf ears. The woman simply would not listen and continued to slowly drive me nearly out of my mind with her cruel enjoyment of my overly developed boobs.

For my part, I chewed the panties stuffed in my mouth, swallowing and breathing through my nose.

Well. At least I understood why she didn’t listen. I was a gagged insane woman in her bed for her amusement.

After torturing me for at least two hours, ok, probably no more than ten minutes, she shifted once more and scissored one leg over my thigh and nestled her wetness, her shaven slit and swollen labia, against my much furrier mound.

Beth arched her back and ground our pussies together.

Flesh to flesh.

Wet aromatic membranes sliding effortlessly against each other.

Her hands were not idle. Now, instead of her lips on my breasts, she ravished both with her close trimmed fingers.

Raking, scratching, drawing them until I felt the residual furrows imbedded in my skin.

She twisted my engorged nipples nearly in full circles then released them to let me feel the shooting ache of sensation returning in a quick rush.

For my part I ground, writhed, thrust up at her pussy.

The room filled with the unforgettable smells of pussy. Pussy swimming in the riparian flood of lubricating moist juices.

Beth’s thrusting began in earnest.

Her eyes glazed over.

Her mouth slackened and she wailed as loudly as would have I but for the soaked piece of her underwear still in my mouth.

I know. I could have dislodged them at any time. But it was what she wanted for me. As long as there was the faintest trace of her taste from the panty I wanted to enjoy it combined with the mingled scent arising from our joined crotches.

She started a circular grind, wider, quicker, then and only then did I feel the tip of her clitoris tap, swirl around and batter my own swollen pearl.

Beth twisted her torso and with one hand plucked the panties from my mouth and lowered her open mouth and wetly kissed me.

No, not kissed.

She took possession of my mouth, my lips, she sucked my tongue into her face before thrusting her own fleshy muscle nearly to the back of my mouth and slapped her pussy into mine.

Succinctly, we came.


Blindingly orgasmed.

I have no words for the most sensational experience of my life, would you?

I felt bruised, thoroughly sated but needing more, much more.

I ached.

I tingled.

I felt a restless burning in the depths of my stomach saying I had to reciprocate. I had to give Beth some small measure of the sheer gut wrenching savage lust I had received.

Lying on her bed, catching my breath and eying her trim body I managed to say, “I know you have a strapon, Beth. Get it, now. And then kneel on the side of your bed.”

I was not to be denied though she looked at me with a most quizzical eye.

She went to her dresser and extracted a tangle of straps and a leather shield with a round hole.

She also produced not one, but three thick dildoes of varying length and girth. All would fit snuggly through that hole though. One was purple and had a curve to the left, overall about 6 ½ inches in length. Another irrediscent red straight and a mouthwatering 8 inches. At least it made my mouth water, but I had other plans just then. The last was a full 9 inches with a curve which depending on how attached might be upward, or, more deliciously down. This was a shiny dark pinkish color, had the harness and attaching shield been flesh colored and not black might have almost made the device appear natural jutting from my loins.

And I was prepared to step into the harness and dildo.

Beth knelt on the bed, her feet just hanging over the edge on all fours as I stood and donned her Sapphic “cock”.

She looked over one shoulder as I fumbled with the straps and leg loops. Her face had a broad grin when she said, “you know it really is like riding a bicycle, Juanita.”

I yanked the buckles tight and sternly slapped her upturned ass. Well, one crack deserves another, right?

The dildo I had chosen fitted into my sopping pussy and rubber nubbins on the base would rub my clitoris once I got into the proper rhythm.

I paused.

I looked at her open swollen cunt. Shiny with her juices. Fragrant pungency which sent additional ripples of arousal from my pussy to my tits and making my pale skin feel a rushing flush.

The throbbing in my temples must have simulated the throbbing of the cock I held in my fist and rubbed against the brunette’s labia.

The curve was downward and I had to rise onto tiptoe to slip past her tight opening.

As I dropped to my feet flat on the carpet Beth let out a soft moan and she ground her ass urging me on.

She dropped her head to cradle her cheek on her forearms and gyrated her smooth ass almost in a full circle.

My eyes followed the slow impalement. I watched as her lips parted to the pink invader and listened to both her gasps of enjoyment and my own whispered cooing.

She arched her back just when about half the rubber cock had penetrated her just at the spot I had judged her spongy pad would be. This woman definitely had a G-spot and I had found it.

Jennifer had taught me the subtley of fucking with a strapon. Lessons learned long ago and though submerged, lessons well recalled.

I could be savage, thrusting relentlessly. Driving deep and hard. Slapping flesh to flesh as the latex attachment spread and filled.

I could be slow, inching in to savor the reaction as each centimeter of latex burrowed, rocked gently in and just as gently withdrew.

I could vary the thrusts with easy painstaking wetting the shaft and hard pummeling jabs.

Again, the question, who seduced whom?

Just then, as I felt my nipples go tighter on my heavy titties the brunette uttered, “Fuck me! I wanted you so much from the first time I saw your big boobs and your sensual ass. Pay me back for my cupidity! FUCK ME!”

And I felt this strange desire to slam her with the strapon. To rock and watch her labia follow the latex shaft out, out until curled back with another hard near brutal pumping thrust.

Beth was screaming. She urged me on and on. I brutally, in my mind, attacked her vulnerable pussy. Slammed deeply into her unresisting, in fact gaping and ready, cunt.

I looked between us, her upturned sweet ass jiggling and rocking side to side. My big tata’s jumping and flopping, slapping my sweaty skin with each rough and somehow satisfying slide into my lovely, nerdy woman.

I had adjusted the curve of the plastic prick and knew it was massaging her g-spot, especially by the way Beth shrieked and stammered wordless sounds with each time the tip was about four and one half inches into her pussy. Her juices nearly spurted with each sharp thrust and withdrawal.

Pummeling into her with a lusty urgent will to satisfy her, to satisfy myself.

To relive the youthful joyous lesbian lust of my time with Jennifer.

Not to bury my more orthodox sex life, but to rekindle the naïve experimentation of that far distant time.

A lifestyle which Beth had apparently never abandoned. But that was her life, her innate sexuality.

You realize this is reflection.

What went through my head and body at that point in time was simply to fuck this woman, this woman who had released a passion within me.

For her part, Beth slammed back, wriggled has ass and seemed to clutch the thick plastic penis. She tightened her muscles to grip and release the dildo. She rolled her pelvis and slithered forward and back to impale herself and also to press the rubber nubbins at the base behind the harness which ground into my pussy and massaged my throbbing clitoris.

And, do you know what? It felt good.

No guilt.

No simpering, “What am I doing? Am I crazy? Am I perverted?”


It felt good.

It felt right.

No knot in the pit of my stomach.

No reflection on the fact that we were both of the same sex.

It felt good.

And it began to feel even better.

Beth babbled. She stiffened her legs and arched her back.

She ground her hips and drove the full length of the strapon deep into her vulva.

I felt vibrations. I felt stuttering thrusts transmitted through the latex and shooting from the rubber nubbins grinding into my vagina.

The woman screamed.

No, in fact it was me screaming.

Massive wave after wave of prickling cold chill and hot flash overwhelmed my body, overtook my mind and soul.

Beth was too screaming. Jerking wildly, stammering. Her body filled, but still rivers of her juices sluiced around the strapon and mingled with my own to pool on our legs.

Pungent. Musky with a textual scent. Suspended in the air. Washing us both.


I finally felt as though my bones had turned to rubber and I first leaned over Beth’s back, then sank backward until the dildo extracted from her reddened and swollen pussy.

I fell to one side, my chest heaving.

Why had I given up smoking twenty years ago? I could have used a cigarette just then.

I felt Beth’s squiggled half closed eyes on me and gathered her into my arm to snuggle as we both quivered sporadically in the afterglow.

I suppose she was becoming comfortable playing around because I felt the rubber cock bobble as she slapped it idly. She had drawn one bent leg up over my thigh and was kissing my right boob.

For my part, I was simply enjoying the warmth of another human close to me. I embraced her in the crook of my arm and enjoyed her nibbling lips and nipping teeth as she drew closer to the large brown areola. Her tongue swabbed the tumescent nipple and moved just enough to suckle the circle.

Beth slowly disengaged and leaving a warm wet pool on my areola rose from bed and walked away out of the bedroom.

That gave me time to remove the harness and toss the still warm latex dildo onto the floor.

Beth returned dressed in a robe carrying a tray with the box from the restaurant, two flutes and a split of champagne.

“Oh? You always have champagne, or were you so sure of your seduction?” I asked in mock pique.

By this time I had at least wrapped a sheet around me and cleared a place on a side table for Beth to place the tray.

I sat on the bed and she sat on a small chair, poured the wine and asked me to open the white box.

Not since my eighth Christmas had I anticipated a package as much as that.

I fumbled with the ribbon, and kept the box between us. I wanted to see, but also wanted to share with Beth.

Inside were two of the most perfect strawberries I have ever seen, remarkable for the time of year, but even more remarkable was that instead of simply dipped in chocolate they were presented beautifully.

Both were stem side down, a cradle of white chocolate and a lace of chocolate which was a fragile cage in which the berries were almost suspended. At the top of the globelike dark chocolate was a delicate white rosette.

There was additional packing which even my ham handed antics while transporting the dessert could not materially damage.

“That woman is a genius.” Were my only available words.

“I know,” was my companion’s reply.

Beth moved to sit next to me on the bed with the wine in both hands.

I maneuvered the first berry from the box and handed it to Beth as she passed the flute to me.

Taking the second confection from its transport I was not sure whether to toast my hostess with the fruit or the wine.

The slim brunette saved me by holding up the berry cage and saying simply, “To friendship.”

I felt the fragile cage melt against my tongue and lips and bit into the sweetest berry I have ever tasted.

We nibbled and remained silent for the time it took to consume the confections and quietly sip the wine.

All the while I felt the confinement of the sheet around my bodacious tatas, but was it really that I wished Beth to rip the linen from me and take me as savagely as I had let loose my wild re-intiation into Sappho’s world?

As though reading my mind she rose and undid the wrap of the side sheet to allow the material to loosen.

For my part I moved my arms and allowed it to drop to reveal the once, or perhaps still, erections of my long nipples.

Wordlessly, and the reason became apparent almost immediately, Beth kissed me and the sweet, tart, bubbly wine passed between our mouths.

There was no urgency in her kiss, only a soft almost mellow appeal for me to enjoy our closeness.

I felt myself lie back and simply let my arms rest at my sides and Beth continued a series of delicious sensual kisses.

The woman was a sorceress. She wove a spell over me with her erotic mouth magic.

Slow lip tickles, flicking the corners of my mouth, lips softly pressing and then the pressure increasing only to recede to featherlike busses.

No one has ever kissed me like that, not ever.

I tried to give back to her, but I was lost in the passion coursing between us.

My breasts ached for her kiss or caress, but she seemed content to kiss, to share herself with long lingering soulful mouth contact.

Her hand was at the back of my head, drawing us together, drawing us closer, almost allowing us to meld as one.

Somehow the sweetness of the chocolate and the berry combined with the sweetness of Beth’s skillful kissing.

I tingled all over, actually, I was transported beyond any past mean lust I had ever felt and drawn into her enchantment.

I became aware not only of her lips and fleetingly her tongue, but also an aura bonding us.

If I thought the dinner, the conversation earlier was a seduction I now had a new understanding of togetherness.

Earlier I, and Beth, had given in to raw sexual release, but now she was drawing me into a new world. One I had only glimpsed with Jennifer.

I have no idea if, or where we may go in the future, but it is my most fervent wish and desire to move into that other world. Possibly with Beth, hopefully with a partner as understanding and skilled as a mentor.

I would continue, but my memories of that night are a place solitary and entirely blissful.

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