After Midnight (18 page)

“Nope. Nobody touches the rod case.”

“Okay.” I put my hands up in surrender and backed away but only slightly.
She sure is touchy about that fishing rod, isn't she?
I thought. “I could take the other bag then.”

“Got it,” she said forcefully.

Did she think she'd have her butch card revoked if she let me help? I already knew how strong she was from watching her single-handedly rearrange the storeroom at work or move the massive copy machine when something fell behind it. Nothing was too heavy for her. She could probably pick me up while
carrying a ton of bricks with one hand tied behind her back, even if I wasn't five foot two and 110 pounds soaking wet. How I longed for her to try.
Am I getting too carried away here?
I thought.
I wish!

Once she had the suitcase, rod case, and backpack securely in her grasp, we made our way out of the building. It was hard for me to keep up with her long-limbed pace. I'm sure I had to take three steps for every one of hers.
Breathless
was a good word for how I was feeling, but it wasn't entirely due to walking so fast.

“I love being out by the sea,” Gerri told me. “That's one of the reasons I fish. Catching them is a bonus. I'd never live far from the coast. I reckon I'd pine away,” she said.

“Sounds wonderful. Take me with you next time,” I said.

She stopped for a second and looked directly at me. “You want to fish with me?” I nodded and hoped I didn't appear too eager. “Wow, you're the first woman who's asked to fish with me.” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“I like to fish,” I said, trying to lure her in with my seductive tone.

She must have missed it since she kept on walking as we made our way out of the terminal. The cool October night air did nothing to dispel my heat.

“Mostly I ask women to come along and they don't turn up.”

“I find that hard to believe. Who'd ever stand you up?”

“You'd be surprised.” She stopped just two inches short of colliding with a skycap, and I watched as she ran her fingers through her hair.

I stopped to face her while she waited for the man to move the luggage rack. “Well,
I
wouldn't.” I don't know if it was the way I said it or the way I looked at her, but she finally had my number. Surprised, she fixed me with a gaze that felt like a microwave
heating me to the core. My face felt like it was on fire, matching the heat starting in my belly and radiating right to my clit.

“Easy girl! You're not flirting with me, are you? I'll treat you bad if you are.” Gerri cocked her eyebrow and I thought I would die. “Don't start me up or I may get rough with you.”

“Promises, promises,” I replied a bit more boldly.

“Oh, so you like it rough?” Was she daring me?

“Oh, yes, the rougher the better.”

My tits stood on end as I wished with all my heart that she would ravish me right then and there. I would kneel at her feet submissively if I had to, but she didn't have to know that.

“Careful, you may just get what you wish for.”

“You don't scare me,” I said bravely, while the thought of what she was capable of doing to me had me wet.
Are you daring her?
I asked myself.
Yep!
I thought, smiling inwardly as we walked to my SUV. Fumbling with my keys, my hands visibly shaking, I barely got the door open before she threw in her bags and pressed me up against the cold metal, pushing the door closed beneath my trembling body. Her arms and legs had me pinned to the passenger-side door. Shock yielded to surprise when her mouth came down hard on mine. I could barely breathe, but I had more important things on my mind.

Before I knew what had hit me she had her callused hands on my taut nipples. The rough skin of her palm sent shivers down my spine and into my pelvis. Gasping for breath, I tightened my arms around her waist and parted my lips for her to penetrate me with her tongue, deepening our kiss.

Fueled by a longing I had nursed for months, I was insatiable for her touch. I reached toward her chest, but she intercepted my hands. She wouldn't let me touch her breasts, and I cried in protest. She silenced me with another kiss, and my breath caught. Her hands moved to the top of my jeans. I nearly
fainted, but she held me up with her thigh between my legs.

Before I knew it, I was sprawled out on the backseat of my SUV and she was ripping off my boots and then my jeans. I rarely wear underwear since I hate panty lines and thongs. I purposely didn't have any on, and the effect of her discovery was evident on her lust-filled face.

We were in a public lot, and although it was late, there was still the chance other people could be lurking about looking for their cars. The thought of being caught with my pants off and my legs spread open for the whole world to see excited me to no end.

“You like it rough? Well, that's what you're gonna get,” Gerri said.

I felt her thrust two fingers in and out of my wet, inviting cunt. I gasped when she added two more fingers. She was pounding me, my hips keeping a perfect rhythm like a choreographed dance. I wanted her—no, I needed her—to touch my clit, but she was too busy with my hole, teasing me, tormenting me. I tried to get her to touch my neglected nub, but she relentlessly avoided my need.

Finally, she thumbed my clit while finger-fucking me hard. I bit my lip. My breath was coming faster, and I grew closer just as she removed her thumb.
Shit! Don't stop.
Getting desperate, I shifted my hips, hoping my clit would come closer to her thumb, but it was to no avail. She was such a tease. I dripped with desire as I tried to nudge closer to her hand.

“Gerri, my clit…oh, please,” I sobbed.

“You begging me?”

“Yes, I…please.”

“Stop saying please. Just tell me what you want.” She appeared to be enjoying her dominant butch status, but I saw right through her feigned irritation.

“All of you…in me.” I needed her so bad I thought the world would crumble if she didn't take me completely right then.

She thumbed my clit once more, sending shock waves through my pelvis and tightening every muscle in the lower half of my body all the way down to my toes. Then, just as quickly, she removed her thumb. I groaned long and loud as she gave me an evil lopsided grin. She was so damn cute!

“You are such a fucking tease,” I said and pulled her mouth once more to mine. I bit her lip then licked and kissed it.

Gerri put my right thigh over her shoulder and leaned into me, pressing her jeans—or was that her belt buckle?—into my clit. I was more open and desperate than before, especially when she went in for a firmer grasp on my tits.

“God, Ger. You trying to kill me here?”

“You wanted rough…”

“Yeah, rough. Fuck me hard. Plea—” I stopped myself from finishing, hoping I'd get what I wanted. I was so wet, so turned on, so in love, I surrendered to her, and she could have whatever she wanted from me at that moment.

Before I knew it, her whole fist was inside me, and I was crying out in ecstasy. “Yes,” was all I could manage as my muscles gripped her hand with each forceful thrust.

“Harder.”

She smiled. I could tell she was loving this. I adored that smile. “You're so beautiful when you beg,” she said.

Never in my life had I felt anything like this. It was like being stretched—very full, very taken. I wanted to surrender to Gerri so bad, and getting my wish was a dream come true. The more she fucked me the wetter and closer to climaxing I got. The sensation was incredible.

She sucked on my neck while she continued fucking me with her fist. When I didn't think I could take one more excruciating
but delicious second, wanting to come so bad it hurt, she placed her mouth on my clit, sucking and licking until my body gave way to the sweet release it longed for. I grasped her baby-fine blonde hair while I came. I thought I heard her gasp when I nearly ripped her hair out of her scalp, so I eased up on the tension and let her silky tresses slip from my fingers. I felt my strength drain from my body in orgasmic bliss.

Gerri rewarded me by releasing her fist slowly from my sated center and gingerly licking my clit some more. Her tongue barely touched me at first while I recovered from the first orgasm, but her ministrations were just enough to get the blood to pool in my clit once more. Expertly she worked my clit and the surrounding swollen areas until I felt the explosion begin again. If I were rating orgasms on a scale from one to ten, this one was a twenty-five. The climax felt like it lasted for hours. I lost all track of time and place until she collapsed on top of me and I kissed her sweaty brow.

“You can fish with me anytime,” Gerri said.

“How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” She flashed me another one of her incredible smiles.

“But next time it's my turn to cast the line,” I told her.

“Deal.”

I managed to get dressed with a big-ass grin on my face as I looked forward to future fisting—er, I mean fishing.

 

 

 

 

 

L
esbians aren't necessarily the best nurses, but in my opinion nurses are the best lesbians!

In my early twenties, I was working at a busy London hospital and living in the nurses' home. There were about twenty nurses in our residential block, and whether it was a random circumstance, or the manager wanted to keep us happy, about three quarters of us were lesbians. It wasn't one long orgy so much as a small, cozy dating pool. We circulated through each other's rooms like one long game of spin the bottle, kissing, fighting, and making up with equal intensity.

Like many of the other nurses, I made the rounds, seldom staying with the same woman for long. But when I met Marie, things changed. Marie was older than I, in her early thirties, a curvy woman, with a smart wisecracking attitude and a bold manner. She came from Trinidad but had done her nursing training in London as a teenager and had been here ever since.
She had the coveted corner room in the nurses' home, a large room with two windows instead of one.

Marie and I got together one night after we'd both been working the late shift in the operating theater. We were both operating-theater nurses, but she was a senior nurse in urology and normally worked in the older theater block on the other side of the hospital. I had just obtained my first staff-nurse position in the main theater complex.

That night, Marie had been called over to the general surgery area to assist with some emergencies. She and I had the final cleanup, and we were both hurrying. Me, because I was meeting some friends in a nearby pub afterward, and her, I later learned, because she was hoping to waylay another nurse on her way home after her shift.

We chatted as we cleaned to make the time go faster, both of us flirting in an automatic, casual way. She was teasing me about breaking up with Orla, the other Irish nurse in our block. I was retaliating that—knowing Marie's reputation for loving women and moving on—Orla had wanted to settle down with me and raise fine Irish lesbian babies. We were sorting the unused sutures, and our hands flew over the pile in time with our banter. Our hands both reached for the final catgut suture and our fingertips brushed each other.

I remember that first moment of connection, that first fine thrill that tingled along my fingers. My movement stopped, and my breath caught in my throat. Marie's fingers stilled too.

“Well, well, well,” she said, softly. “Fancy that.” And then she picked up the suture, put it in the correct box, and moved over to the door of the anaesthetic room. “That bloody technician's left the place a mess again.” Her voice sounded amazingly normal.

I struggled to make mine as steady. “I think she got called to ICU,” I offered. “She'll be back.”

Marie moved into the anaesthetic room and started placing equipment in the sink. I followed her lead and cleared the bench, dumping the glass ampoules and used syringes into the sharps container. I stole a sideways glance at Marie—at her straight back and ripe, round buttocks. She had a wide-legged stance, sturdy legs bracing her full hips. I saw the outline of her thighs through the white dress she wore, and the tantalizing gap between them. Her dress pulled tight over her buttocks, and I saw her panty line.

“So who are you with now that you've escaped Orla's clutches?” she asked.

“No one. My life is barren of a hot woman right now,” I sighed in a theatrical manner, and hoped she'd take the hint.

She snorted. “You won't get my sympathy that way.”

“Oh? What will it take then?”

She turned from the sink and studied me. “You want a sympathy fuck?”

Now
this
was better! “Not a
sympathy
fuck, no.”

The instruments in the sink claimed her attention again, but not before I saw her sudden grin.

“I heard you were easy. Quite the slut.”

I pretended affront. “Look who's talking. Remember I've slept with Kate, who slept with Tash, who slept with Bibi—
your
ex-girlfriend. News travels.”

“In both directions.” She finally gave up all pretence of washing instruments, and turned again, this time to study me blatantly. “Fancy a drink when we finally get out of here?”

I didn't hesitate. “As long as we don't go to the Pig and Tater. I was supposed to meet friends there.”

We finished our shift, changed back into street clothes, and without actually discussing it, walked the mile to the Black Horse, a pub that attracted few people from the hospital. I
slid into a snug at the back while Marie brought pints over from the bar.