It's a Girl Thing Read online

  The creak of the main toilet door opening stunned both girls and they froze in place, panting and gasping at the sudden break in the action, but both trying to do so silently. Tracey stifles a laugh with her hand, she had a gorgeously dishevelled girl on her knees before her with shirt ripped and torn, breasts hanging out and fresh pussy juice all over her face, this wasn’t a typical Friday night for either of them by any stretch of the imagination.

  Tracey once more looked down at the beautiful woman before her, so nervous, but her eyes sparkled and her lips shone and as they heard the door creak again they could both breathe once more. Tracey smiled lustfully down at Kelly who returned the gaze and gave Tracey’s arse another appreciative squeeze causing her to wiggle, this gave Kelly an idea and she pulled at Tracey’s hips causing her to turn round and present her arse. Kelly let out a loud moan of appreciation as her hand slowly followed the curve of the flesh down to that spot where buttock meets thigh and as her fingers ran over it on both sides, Tracey let out a moan of her own.

  Oh how delicious her rear looked to Kelly, she knew it would and leaning in she planted a big kiss on each cheek before slowly snaking her tongue across the rosy flesh. Kelly’s hands now grasped the cheeks to spread them apart and give her tongue full access it wiggled against the wet flesh of Tracey’s pussy before making a quick flick across her puckered hole the shudder this brought from Tracey gave Kelly the confidence to slowly start lapping and pushing her tongue at the hole, delighting in the taboo feel of fucking her lover like this, her fingers sought the warmth of Tracey’s pussy, filling it as her tongue forced it’s way within her. Kelly bobbed against that ripe rump revelling in the joys of fucking both holes and bringing such pleasure to Tracey. Moans were now filling the room once more and Kelly was almost sure they could be heard over the drum and bass drone of the club’s sound system.

  Tracey’s left hand sought her own clit, the right supporting her against the stall wall and pushing her back into the tongue and fingers that filled her so delightfully. She knew she couldn’t hold out not with the intense feelings Kelly was creating within her, she found the bud and rubbed it hard, all her energy seemed to rush to her clit and boom, she was on fire, she shuddered and shook as the incredibly powerful orgasm took full control, her mind full of all the wicked and wonderful things she could do with Kelly in the future. She obviously had a kinky side and Tracey couldn’t wait to help her explore this, her mind full of cute little girly dresses, wicked leather outfits, strap-ons, rooms full of whips, chains and all manner of things she’d seen in catalogues but had no idea what you did with them.

  They’d find out, mmm... Such possibilities consumed her as she collapsed against her blissed out lover, a jumble of limbs, what a sight they were and what joy awaited them.

  Leaving Minnesota

  Olivia London

  Midwestern girl finds love - and great sex - en route to San Francisco

  There are worse things than being torn between two passionate female lovers.

  It was on a plane from the Midwest to San Francisco when I was treated to the ride of my life. A friend from college landed a job at a Bay Area law firm and I was traveling to meet her for a long weekend. Tracy and I had had a thing for each other once but decided we were better at being friends than lovers.

  By a stroke of luck, I was able to fly first class: my first experience with real luxury. I noticed the flight attendants were much nicer than when I flew coach in the past, proffering more refreshments before I even finished one drink. One was especially attentive and though she wasn’t my type I couldn’t quell the arousal she inspired. I wondered what it would be like to fuck this buxom redhead who introduced herself with a come hither greeting: “Hi, my name is Joanne. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to make this flight more pleasurable. Anything at all.”

  I could just glean the outline of her nipples edging against her starched white shirt. I imagined taking her fleshy orbs into my mouth, teasing her areolae with lashing tongue and -

  Was she coming on to me? I’m not so narcissistic as to think just because a woman licks her lips when talking to me and stares pointedly and momentously into my eyes that it means she wants me and wants me bad. Plus, I feel kinda guilty looking a woman over the way a man might do. It’s not like I wanted a moonlit walk with Joanne, holding hands as we soberly strolled some silly beach. I wanted to bury my face in all that redness: the dark brick flowing mane and the fiery promise of a matching bush, the flush pink of her mound and the torpedo tips of her bosom, her crimson painted lips, and yes, even the disturbing blood red of her fingernails.

  She gave me an extra bag of peanuts, too. That had to mean something, right? I was also served complimentary champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries: a girl could get used to such things!

  “Don’t get too tipsy, now,” my seatmate said. “You don’t want to be carried off the plane.” She smiled and at first I was put off by her perfect teeth. My own teeth were a constant source of embarrassment for me until I won a talent show at a “Dykes Can Dance” contest and used the money to discipline my dentition.

  I kept stealing glances at the brunette beside me. “I’m Kim,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t mind a little conversation. She was so pretty, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Unless Joanne walked by.

  “Amy,” she replied, holding out her hand. Her hand was soft and flawless; I feared I held it a moment too long but if I did, she didn’t seem to mind.

  “You could be a hand model,” I blurted.

  “I am a model,” she said, “but not the runway kind. I just get catalog work... because I’m short.”

  “Not short,” I said, nudging her elbow. “Petite.”

  She nudged back and looked me over appreciatively. “Is someone picking you up at the airport?”

  “Nah, my friend doesn’t have a car. I’m going to take one of those shuttle things.”

  “Share a cab with me,” she said, placing her palm on my forearm. “I’ll put it on my expense account, even. Won’t cost you a thing.”

  “Wow, that’s really generous of you. I’ll take you up on the offer, sure.”

  From there, we flirted like crazy. I could tell by the way she kept touching me, she was interested. When a different flight attendant offered another round of strawberries, Amy took a dish gladly. She picked one of the largest and plumpest fruits from the plate and began rolling her tongue round the tip.

  “It’s amazing the things the tongue can accomplish,” she said, smiling wickedly.

  “I’m sure your boyfriend is grateful for your accomplishments,” I said, feeling her out.

  “Oh, I’m not into guys. That’s why I’m moving to San Francisco. How ‘bout you? You got a girl waiting for you there? The way you’ve been eyeballing me since I sat down, I can tell you’re not straight.”

  Amy’s frank way of talking made me blush. “Tracy and I were more than friends in college, but we’re just friends now. I’m visiting from Minnesota.”

  The brown-eyed, brown-haired beauty placed a strawberry to my lips and, without hesitation I bit the tip and secured the chocolate-covered sweetness in my mouth. A bald man leaned over to leer at us till I narrowed my eyes into lasers and shot him back to the small world he hailed from. Funny how once you take a liking to a woman you instantly want to protect her from harm. Amy, I would soon discover, was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

  I distinctly heard Joanne harrumph and dared not meet her eye. The shortest romances take place at ten thousand feet.

  “Consider yourself warned,” Amy said. “Midwesterners have been known to morph into California girls once they get a taste of the Bay Area.”

  I’d like to get a taste of you I thought, watching this lovely ode to femininity cross and uncross her legs.

  It was a long flight and we kept each other entertained with anec
dotes about “coming out” to friends and family and gossip about our favorite lesbian celebrities.

  When the plane landed, we shared that cab, but my first destination wasn’t Tracy’s. Amy and I stopped off for drinks at a cozy bar, then she suggested we get a room at a hot tub.

  “I don’t know. Aren’t hot tub joints creepy places where fat guys take hookers?”

  Amy laughed, nuzzling my neck with her sweet breath. “Not the one I know about. This is a nice place; you’ll like it.”

  How do I get myself into these situations? If a woman has a dominant personality, I hand her the reins. I’m a total femme! I even fantasize about getting spanked. If the chemistry is right, letting a dominant woman take over can lead to wish fulfillment and passionate sex. And passion was something I didn’t get much of living in the Midwest.

  So I let this feline female take over, enjoying how she purred all the right words as we sat holding hands in the back of the cab while the driver occasionally scrutinized us in his rearview mirror.

  He dropped us off at a squat building boomeranging with neon.

  “Wish I could join you,” the mustachioed driver said, before speeding off.

  Amy paid for the room and it was much nicer than I expected. There was a room with fake logs for people who wanted to steam their time away. We peeled our clothes off and took a shower together, soaping each other’s genitals and breasts.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” I screeched, jumping into the lozenge-shaped tub with jets of water blasting from the sides.

  Amy looked even smaller without her clothes but she had a big voice that echoed over the bubbles.

  “You’re only young once, girlfriend,” she said, pulling me in for a kiss. Her lips tasted of strawberries and as her tongue probed my mouth, I let my hand travel to the cleft of her ass and I played with her cute, sassy bottom.

  We made out for a long time until the cot near the steam room appeared too inviting to ignore. The tub establishment had generously provided oils and lotions for those wanting to massage their partners.

  Amy said she had taken a massage class once so I gratefully stretched my body along the narrow mattress and let the pretty brunette work her magic. She straddled me from behind, kneading my neck, shoulders and back muscles. Was there anything this woman couldn’t do? If catalog work dried up, she could make a killing as a masseuse.

  I relaxed into her touch, melting as she moved down to my calves and the balls of my feet.

  Before I could get too relaxed, she had me turn over.

  “I knew you’d be a natural blonde,” she said, letting her fingers glide up to my pussy. She gently played with my clit, letting her fingers tease sensations until I arched my back and begged her to fuck me.

  She took her time circling my labia with those agile fingers until finally when I almost cried out in frustration, she delved her digits into my mound.

  She pinched my nipples while pumping me with those wondrous fingers and it was this way she’d make me come the first time.

  “Oh, but wait, there’s more where that came from.”

  I caressed Amy’s heart-shaped face as she mounted my vulva, her clit like a jewel in a crown nestled right up against my own.

  Her lovely breasts swayed as she choreographed our lovemaking, seemingly determined to give me a night to remember. How could I forget the way her velvety folds searched mine or the drop of sweat that fell from her forehead as she vigorously fucked me to another come?

  It was pure driven lust and we couldn’t stop ourselves. When I climaxed yet again I had Amy flip on her back. The hair at her temples had curled into damp ringlets and I smoothed them into wings, cupping the nape of Amy’s neck while I kissed her and she kissed me back.

  I kissed her chin and shoulders, letting my tongue swirl over her nipples, those tender buds neither pink nor brown but tawny in hue. I suckled her areolae as she grasped the back of my head and murmured my name over and over again.

  “Go down on me, please,” she begged.

  Her pubic hair had been trimmed into a perfect diamond and I stroked the area with my thumb while she wiggled her bottom.

  “My clit is aching for you, Kim,” she said, arching her pelvis in obvious encouragement.

  From the moment my lips touched her mound, I knew I’d forever seek the ambrosia a passionate woman’s love affords. Her pussy yielded to my every touch, every stamp of my eager tongue. When I alternated fingers and tongue, I feared her shouts of joy would reverberate throughout the building. She was as giving and appreciative a partner as any lover could imagine. With her final climax, she hugged me to her breasts and we clung to each other until it was time to leave.

  We hailed another cab and this time I did make it to Tracy’s apartment in the Marina District. Amy and I exchanged phone numbers and I was lucky enough to see her once again before heading back to Minneapolis. We had an actual date with a candlelit dinner, dancing at a gay bar and hot, hot sex in a real queen-sized bed at her apartment in the Mission District.

  Tracy didn’t want to meet Amy. She had a prejudice against models or any woman who exploited her own beauty. My philosophy has always been, if you’ve got it, flaunt it, maybe even profit from it. Just don’t be a sexy woman who’s too lazy to vote.

  Tracy hadn’t changed much since we were roommates in college. Still a wonk, I couldn’t help but admire all she had achieved.

  She had long black hair when I first met her but now she wears it in a bob and it suits her highly structured lifestyle. She’s at the gym by 5, using her treadmill time judiciously by listening to books on tape while sweat bottoms out into her spandex. Her spectacles are usually smudged; wiping lenses with a chamois cloth distracts from work and she’s always working.

  It was quite late when I had reached her apartment and she had been pacing furiously.

  “Why didn’t you call to let me know you’d be late?” she demanded.

  “I did try but the line was busy.”

  Tracy finally gave me a hug and was about to pick up my suitcase to usher into the guest room when she held back and regarded me with newfound interest.

  “Kim? You look like you just got fucked. Incredible! That’s why you’re late, isn’t it? You picked up some floozy at the airport!”

  I gulped back my embarrassment. It didn’t even occur to me Tracy might be worried. And, catching a glimpse of my disheveled appearance in the hallway mirror, there was no denying my sated state of existence. Amy and I had taken showers before leaving the tubs but there was an unmistakable whiff of chlorine clinging to my skin. Still, I didn’t regret a moment of it. I would have given anything to go back and repeat the experience all over again.

  “Amy is not some floozy,” I said. “She was my seatmate on the plane and we had a good time. She’s very smart and very sexy. She has a degree in biology and wants to do something in the medical field. It’s not her fault she’s over the top gorgeous.”

  Tracy plopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV. That was her way of saying she was miffed. Tracy only watched television when she wanted to tune out something she didn’t want to deal with.

  I sighed, retreating to the guest room to pack. It was too late to find a hotel but I would hit the streets running in the morning. Really, if the situation had been reversed I would have been happy for my former roommate. I couldn’t understand why she was acting out of sorts; there had been nothing between us for years.

  This is ridiculous, I thought. Tracy has no cause to be jealous. I nursed her through plenty of breakups. Deciding to take the high road, I padded back to the living room with a souvenir - the same thing I give her for every special occasion.

  Tracy’s eyes lit up when she saw the familiar wax coating over a gift the size of a mannequin’s head.

  “Wisconsin cheddar!” she squealed. Then, after
a moment’s consideration: “You don’t care if I get fat while you have all the sex in the world. Is that it?”

  “Tracy,” I sighed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you but we’re still friends. That’s why I got on a plane to come visit you. I missed you, okay?”

  My old friend said nothing. She sat cross-legged on the couch with arms folded over her compact chest. I sat with her until the tension became unbearable. Then I went back to the guest room.

  Before undressing for bed, I noticed a magazine rack overflowing with so many glossy pages it could have doubled as an accordion.

  I plucked a magazine at random and was instantly mooned by rosy-cheeked bums and bottoms branded with hand imprints. Page after page revealed women naked from the waist down getting their behinds swatted.

  So, my old roommate Tracy was harboring a secret fetish! It seemed I was suddenly given a way to repair our friendship.

  I went back to the living room and turned off the remote. Tracy glanced up at me in surprise.

  “You know, Trace. That was very naughty of me to keep you waiting like that. Even though I did try to call, I deserve a good swat on the rear, don’t you think?”

  Tracy’s eyes lit with excitement as she fell right into her roll as woman in charge.

  “Pull your panties down and I’ll show you what happens to bad girls who keep their mistresses waiting.”

  I did as I was told and was instantly aroused.

  “Now, drape yourself over my lap,” she commanded.

  Tracy was wearing shorts so I let my hands roam over her tan legs as I offered her my bum. She immediately moved my hands to the sofa cushions.

  “You are not to touch your mistress,” she said. “Focus on what you’ve got coming to you.”