Gentle hoots and cracking whips cooed from the kitchen. She was doing hip twists and spinning in circles to distorted music. The kind of hip twists that made me want to attend hurricane parties and live life with the motto, "I could take a risk."
Her silky black dress crossed in a strappy ‘X marks the spot’ between her shoulder blades. I gawked, and gawked, until I tipped and gave the wall a love tap with my head.
Apparently she thought this was cute, or sweet, or something amiable, because she approached me, blushed with her straightened brown hair blowing in the patio breeze. Approached ME, who was stuck in the doorframe, drooling.
When a pointy-nosed brunette walks up with sultry eyes of lust bordered by dark eyeshadow, sometimes my inner porn star comes out. Other times..., "Squeak!”. Then things begin to spin and suddenly I find myself saying something stupid, and physically incapable of stopping it. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.
“That one looks pale.” Said a voice in the distance.
A hand waved before my glazed vision. The only thing I could see was the blur of Smokey Eyes walking away from me.
“Are you okay?”
My head vaguely wavered in the direction of the hand’s owner.
It was the Bartender. Great. Sweetly toned blonde, but I was already taken. Taken by Smokey Eyes, cold, cold Smokey Eyes.
I stuttered a few nonsensical lines, until I freudian slipped the words “I squirted”.
“Hot damn!” Said the Bartender jokingly, and gently ushered me towards the bar. She carefully sat me down. Probably thought I’d miss the stool.
“Not the first time a woman’s said that to me.” Her voice was edgy, and hinted of repressed laughter as she whipped around the counter and poured two glasses of liquid courage.
“There,” she said, “I give you, Liquid Courage.” Which she said with a French accent. “Drink this, and you will have all the confidence in the world, universe, even. You may even have lesbian alien sex, if you want. In case that was on your Bucket List, your wish is granted.” Jazz hands sparkled for a teasing second.
“Hm? What?” Was someone talking to me? I was looking at the vague outline of a wavy-haired blonde with tasteful arm tattoos, but all I could see was a look of disgust flashing across Smokey Eyes face, over and over. What had I said?
The Bartender put a glass to my lips until my hand operated subconsciously. Slurp, guzzle, sweat. When I had finished, she watched me intently, telling me ‘everything would be alright, as long as I breathed’.
Or at least that’s what she meant when she said, "Go get your bunny on." Then gave me a shove in the direction of Smokey Eyes.
I could actually visualize myself fucking this up. It went like this:
“Hey Smokey Eyes, what’s your name?”
Then her rolling her sultry browns and walking away, and a giant blinking sign wheeling down from the Heavens to flash the words “SEX DENIED” right in my face, followed by me butting my head into another wall.
I began to think, “Maybe words are insufficient?” But before a little angel and devil perched upon my shoulders could finish that debate, I found myself brushing my nose against her shoulder while she danced on the patio in the brilliant city lights, none of which compared to her.
Cue Starry Sky and light Big Ben.
Spinning, tingling, lifting out of myself, I melted into her like something taking flight. The silky curtains of her dress brushed against my skin as she danced, twirling like an umbrella, and she pressed herself softly to me. When she turned again, our cheeks brushed.
Then the silken sad uncertain rustling of her supple curtains, thrilled me, filled me with fantastic fervor, never felt before. That to still the thrill of sweeting, in my heart I stood repeating, let her hungry heart entreat me, as I’ve never felt before. Let her hungry heart entreat me, ravenous and nothing more.
As I silently prayed, she answered, grazing the bridge of my nose and tilting her head ever so slightly, that when our lips met, my knees quaked, and the earth crumbled beneath me. She crumbled too, for a soft white cushion caught us, and by the gurgle of her grunt I could tell she was equally surprised.
She laughed joyously and hugged me with her lips grazing my ear. If butterflies could sing, that was the sound of her laughter. A wisp of rapid rings.
A nibble at my ear, a kiss upon my cheek. Her lips were a glaze of honey running down my neck, hot and slow, teasing me with her tongue, dripping over my collarbone and coating my nipple. I melted, and held the fuck on as a tiny tingle in my gut told me she was an accountant, and wondered what other dreams she made. I would let her crunch me like a set of numbers.
Sweating with desire, the silken dress clung to her silhouette. Clinging so elegantly.
“Fuck that,” I thought, and stripped it over her head to lick the sweat off her body, lingering at her abdomen. “Get my bunny on,” I thought as I licked.
To say I was the more vigorous of us both would be completely incorrect, for she wrapped her legs around me and pinned me into submission; and, even though we were laying down, I had the impression she’d flying arm-barred me across a room. Yet I loved the sensation of her thighs wrapped around my waist; so much, that I found myself willing to let her break me. Break me, make me, take me. I nearly begged to be snapped; but all I mustered was a wavered whimper, so she loosed and met my lips with the utmost gentleness I could not help but gasp.
My clothes became a blurred memory under her fingertips. I didn’t even remember tying that tie. The only thing I remembered was her snapping my bra and spanking me, and she could do that again, anytime she wanted.
Then someone, probably the bartender who was up to no good, handed Smokey Eyes a very tiny feather. A coyly tiny feather. The sort of thing you would shirk off or sniff at. I regret ever thinking lightly of a feather. Just like that time I regretted thinking chopsticks were solely for food. Oops.
My arms naturally wrapped around her shoulders and cupped the crook of her neck, pressing her forehead to mine to savor every kiss. With a sassy smirk, she tickled my butt with the feather and smiled as I giggled against my will, scurrying in place. Twisting, jolting, sniggering. I dare not repeat some of the squawks and squeaks I uttered. But her impish grin was both heartwarming and pleasantly foreboding. For I knew what was coming, or at least I was vain enough to think I did.
The tickles continued until I was snorting with laughter, my knees quivering against her as she inched herself a little closer between them, every time she touched me. She unrelentingly feathered me with her cheek pressed against mine and her shoulders pinning me down. Holding me so tightly, I could feel her grin widen at the moment of satiating attack. My eyes clenched shut, mouth shivered with anticipation, claws dug in.
Reaching between our legs, she wrapped two fingers inside me with a shocking amount of pressure, and right when I arrived, whispered her name in my ear.
Authored by LesbianMuses.com
Her silky black dress crossed in a strappy ‘X marks the spot’ between her shoulder blades. I gawked, and gawked, until I tipped and gave the wall a love tap with my head.
Apparently she thought this was cute, or sweet, or something amiable, because she approached me, blushed with her straightened brown hair blowing in the patio breeze. Approached ME, who was stuck in the doorframe, drooling.
When a pointy-nosed brunette walks up with sultry eyes of lust bordered by dark eyeshadow, sometimes my inner porn star comes out. Other times..., "Squeak!”. Then things begin to spin and suddenly I find myself saying something stupid, and physically incapable of stopping it. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.
“That one looks pale.” Said a voice in the distance.
A hand waved before my glazed vision. The only thing I could see was the blur of Smokey Eyes walking away from me.
“Are you okay?”
My head vaguely wavered in the direction of the hand’s owner.
It was the Bartender. Great. Sweetly toned blonde, but I was already taken. Taken by Smokey Eyes, cold, cold Smokey Eyes.
I stuttered a few nonsensical lines, until I freudian slipped the words “I squirted”.
“Hot damn!” Said the Bartender jokingly, and gently ushered me towards the bar. She carefully sat me down. Probably thought I’d miss the stool.
“Not the first time a woman’s said that to me.” Her voice was edgy, and hinted of repressed laughter as she whipped around the counter and poured two glasses of liquid courage.
“There,” she said, “I give you, Liquid Courage.” Which she said with a French accent. “Drink this, and you will have all the confidence in the world, universe, even. You may even have lesbian alien sex, if you want. In case that was on your Bucket List, your wish is granted.” Jazz hands sparkled for a teasing second.
“Hm? What?” Was someone talking to me? I was looking at the vague outline of a wavy-haired blonde with tasteful arm tattoos, but all I could see was a look of disgust flashing across Smokey Eyes face, over and over. What had I said?
The Bartender put a glass to my lips until my hand operated subconsciously. Slurp, guzzle, sweat. When I had finished, she watched me intently, telling me ‘everything would be alright, as long as I breathed’.
Or at least that’s what she meant when she said, "Go get your bunny on." Then gave me a shove in the direction of Smokey Eyes.
I could actually visualize myself fucking this up. It went like this:
“Hey Smokey Eyes, what’s your name?”
Then her rolling her sultry browns and walking away, and a giant blinking sign wheeling down from the Heavens to flash the words “SEX DENIED” right in my face, followed by me butting my head into another wall.
I began to think, “Maybe words are insufficient?” But before a little angel and devil perched upon my shoulders could finish that debate, I found myself brushing my nose against her shoulder while she danced on the patio in the brilliant city lights, none of which compared to her.
Cue Starry Sky and light Big Ben.
Spinning, tingling, lifting out of myself, I melted into her like something taking flight. The silky curtains of her dress brushed against my skin as she danced, twirling like an umbrella, and she pressed herself softly to me. When she turned again, our cheeks brushed.
Then the silken sad uncertain rustling of her supple curtains, thrilled me, filled me with fantastic fervor, never felt before. That to still the thrill of sweeting, in my heart I stood repeating, let her hungry heart entreat me, as I’ve never felt before. Let her hungry heart entreat me, ravenous and nothing more.
As I silently prayed, she answered, grazing the bridge of my nose and tilting her head ever so slightly, that when our lips met, my knees quaked, and the earth crumbled beneath me. She crumbled too, for a soft white cushion caught us, and by the gurgle of her grunt I could tell she was equally surprised.
She laughed joyously and hugged me with her lips grazing my ear. If butterflies could sing, that was the sound of her laughter. A wisp of rapid rings.
A nibble at my ear, a kiss upon my cheek. Her lips were a glaze of honey running down my neck, hot and slow, teasing me with her tongue, dripping over my collarbone and coating my nipple. I melted, and held the fuck on as a tiny tingle in my gut told me she was an accountant, and wondered what other dreams she made. I would let her crunch me like a set of numbers.
Sweating with desire, the silken dress clung to her silhouette. Clinging so elegantly.
“Fuck that,” I thought, and stripped it over her head to lick the sweat off her body, lingering at her abdomen. “Get my bunny on,” I thought as I licked.
To say I was the more vigorous of us both would be completely incorrect, for she wrapped her legs around me and pinned me into submission; and, even though we were laying down, I had the impression she’d flying arm-barred me across a room. Yet I loved the sensation of her thighs wrapped around my waist; so much, that I found myself willing to let her break me. Break me, make me, take me. I nearly begged to be snapped; but all I mustered was a wavered whimper, so she loosed and met my lips with the utmost gentleness I could not help but gasp.
My clothes became a blurred memory under her fingertips. I didn’t even remember tying that tie. The only thing I remembered was her snapping my bra and spanking me, and she could do that again, anytime she wanted.
Then someone, probably the bartender who was up to no good, handed Smokey Eyes a very tiny feather. A coyly tiny feather. The sort of thing you would shirk off or sniff at. I regret ever thinking lightly of a feather. Just like that time I regretted thinking chopsticks were solely for food. Oops.
My arms naturally wrapped around her shoulders and cupped the crook of her neck, pressing her forehead to mine to savor every kiss. With a sassy smirk, she tickled my butt with the feather and smiled as I giggled against my will, scurrying in place. Twisting, jolting, sniggering. I dare not repeat some of the squawks and squeaks I uttered. But her impish grin was both heartwarming and pleasantly foreboding. For I knew what was coming, or at least I was vain enough to think I did.
The tickles continued until I was snorting with laughter, my knees quivering against her as she inched herself a little closer between them, every time she touched me. She unrelentingly feathered me with her cheek pressed against mine and her shoulders pinning me down. Holding me so tightly, I could feel her grin widen at the moment of satiating attack. My eyes clenched shut, mouth shivered with anticipation, claws dug in.
Reaching between our legs, she wrapped two fingers inside me with a shocking amount of pressure, and right when I arrived, whispered her name in my ear.
Authored by LesbianMuses.com