Best Lesbian Erotica 2007 (5 page)

“Asshole!” she screamed, but I heard her footsteps behind me.

I stayed on the trail, moving quickly until I was about a quarter of a mile away from camp, before turning left. This part of the woods had trees that grew closer together, and obviously, since there wasn’t a defined path, I had to make my own, holding on to tree after tree for balance as I moved. I forced myself to move faster, as the sound of Keisha’s footsteps started to fade. When I could still see a glimpse of camp far to the right, I darted to the left and crouched low behind a couple of bushes and waited.

After a few minutes of not seeing her, I began to worry, wondering if maybe the path I had taken wasn’t as forgiving to Keisha in her sneakers. But before I could rise to investigate, I heard a branch break to my left. I had to grin. The girl had taken another route, hoping to cut me off as I had done to her earlier. But, of course, she hadn’t anticipated my beating her and hiding out. I watched as she stood still, trying to listen out for me as she searched. She looked absolutely gorgeous. Her body glistened with sweat in the moonlight, her hair a complete and captivating mess, and every breath she took forced her breasts to slightly lift. Damn, I needed to have her pussy wrapped around my dick. She caught sight of camp and gave another hopeless look around before taking a step toward the glow of the campfire.

I jumped out and grabbed her, pulling her hard to me as I kissed the back of her neck.

“I guess we know who’s best, huh?” I taunted as I held her arms to her side.

She couldn’t help but giggle as she squirmed in my grip. “You cheated,” she gasped.

“You
wanted
to fuck up, so I could catch you again, don’t front,” I pointed out as I took a few steps forward, forcing her to move with me until she stood before a large tree. I placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her down to her knees, facing away from me.

Gasping for breath, Keisha planted both hands on the ground beneath her, her ass high in the air. My movements were quick, and before she knew it, I was behind her, jeans unzipped, dick in hand. I grabbed hold of her panties by the thin strip of fabric in the back, and was about to pull them to the side, when I thought better of it and gave a rough tug, tearing them away from her body. Keisha gave a loud gasp, bucking her hips in anticipation. There was no point in drawing this out, ’cause we were both primed. I pushed into her deeply, my entry the smoothest it’s ever been ’cause of how wet she was. She groaned loudly, pushing back against me, her ass warm against my denim-covered thighs.

I sat back on my heels, getting a good grip on her wide hips as I pulled out to the head and then pushed back in, wanting to give her every inch of me. She was so wet that even in the dark I could see her juices glistening on the dick, and she was making guttural noises every time I entered her. My fingers dug into her flesh as I stepped up the pace, just enough to watch her asscheeks shake with every move we made.

“So, you got your ass caught up, huh?” I asked, giving a cheek a playful swat.

“Shiiit,” she whispered.

“What was that?” I slapped her ass again, a bit harder.

“Dammit, Angel,” she cried out, her ass starting to rotate on my dick.

“What, baby girl?” I asked as I gave her a quick thrust that made her body jump.

“It feels so goooood, fuck.” She let her head fall forward as she quickened her hips.

I weighed my options and decided I wanted to enjoy a show. I stopped moving and removed my hands.

Keisha’s head snapped up and she looked silently back at me.

“Who told you to stop? Keep going.” I gave her ass a hard slap and she whimpered. “Come on, Keisha, move that ass.”

Her eyes met mine for a moment, and I saw the lustful twinkle in them before she began moving her hips. I remained still, keeping my hands at my sides as I watched the woman I love fuck herself on my dick. She was working it like only a sista could, her pussy literally pulling my dick into it as she threw herself back and forth. I was mesmerized by every move she made; how her lower half seemed to have a life of its own and how my body was oh so willing to oblige its manipulations. She suddenly lifted her left leg, and I swear on everything that I am, my dick got sucked in deeper, and I quickly grabbed the leg to balance her as her ass started to ricochet off my body. In this position, I had a perfect view of her pussy greedily consuming my dick and her clit swollen and full, standing away from her body. I pulled her leg back, holding it against me, and reached for that clit, massaging it.

“Sweet Jesus…” Keisha wailed and I watched her fingers dig into the earth. I gently pulled on that slippery nub, feeling it pulsate and knowing she was gonna blow at any moment. I started tapping on one side of her clit, as I resumed moving, keeping her locked in her position.

“Yes, Angel, yes!” she cried as I fucked her. I was slamming into her harder and harder, hearing the slapping sounds of her ass connecting with my body, and I could feel the beginnings of my own cum. I was on a mission to fill and stretch that pussy to the hilt, jabbing her like a piston. She was back to whimpering, only louder this time, every lunge I made causing her entire body to convulse.

Just when I was sure she was ’bout to cum, I let go of her leg and quickly pushed a firm finger into her ass and she hollered, her body seizing and then freezing as she came, the song that I practically live for escaping her lips. I was still working her pussy as my finger dug in deeper, forcing every shudder out of her beautiful body. I bit my lip hard as I silently came, unable to take my eyes off her.

Keisha collapsed on the ground, and I knew that once morning came and she saw all the dirt and bits of leaves in her hair she’d freak, but I couldn’t care less as I carefully pulled out of both her holes and lay beside her. We were both breathing heavily, and I found myself staring up at the night sky again.

“You were right,” she said, still gasping.

“About what?” I turned to look at her and saw that familiar wicked glint in her eyes.

“About not really wanting to be a kid again,” she replied. “’Cause only grown folks can play tag like that.”

All I could do was laugh.

Lynne Jamneck

 

 

 

 

 

It started out so innocuously. Maybe that’s why it turned out so fucking hot.

I’ve had enough of bartending in my life that when Annie asked me to pour drinks at a conference she was in charge of, my immediate instinct was to think—fast—of the first best lie I could offer in order to avoid the prospect.

“I—someone has to feed my cat.”

Annie found that excuse pathetic, and gave me a look that said so. “Kyle, that cat died two years ago.”

“Fuck, you remember.”

“Of course I do. I was at the funeral.”

“A little respect, please. Princess Leia was no ordinary feline.”

“Sure she wasn’t,” she said sweetly. Sarcastically. Annie wasn’t an animal lover. Curious, then, that she’d refer to her lover as a “tiger” in bed. Makes you think.

“So you’ll do it?”

“Is this the fancy-schmancy do you’ve been planning for the last two months?” Annie was head of conference planning at the Sheraton Belgravia Hotel on Chesham Street in London.

“I’m thrilled. You remembered.”

“How could I not—you’ve been yammering about it non-stop for weeks.”

“Oh fuck off, Kyle.” Then she went all sweet again. “So then you know how important this is to me, to my
career
.” She sidled up next to me, running a long finger along my forearm. “I need the best bartender in London, and you’re it.”

Annie and I have never slept together. We’ve come close once or twice in moments when neither of us had been thinking. She was way too driven, and I liked Guns N’ Roses. But she knew just how to play me.

“I take it the Sheraton pays well?”

“Oh,
yes
. And I’ll get you a uniform… Just do us a favor?”

“I thought I already was.”

There was the sweet smile again, laced with sarcasm. “I can see why you manage to fuck any girl you want. Your wit surpasses even my own. No dear, what I meant was the hair.”

“The hair?”

“Yes. Yours in particular. Just…try not to look like Ringo Starr on a bad day, okay?”

I wouldn’t argue with Annie. I’d just lose.

 

The night of the conference I showed up in my monkey suit at exactly 18:30 as Annie had instructed me. I’d never even asked her what kind of clientele I’d be serving overpriced
cocktails and martinis to. It turned out to be some corporate thing. Loads of women in power suits. Blah blah.

When I went in through the service entrance somewhere in the bowels of the hotel, a group of waitresses eyeballed me. A couple of aviation blondes, their black roots starting to show. I smiled favorably and one of them brushed past me just a little too close. A spotty male looked at me like I’d stolen his wallet. Probably the usual bartender. I smirked. Annie could get away with anything. Probably because she was so fucking good at her job.

The conference started at 19:00 sharp. Between then and 21:00 I pretty much did stuff-all except verbally abuse Annie in her absence for making me show up so early. Control freak. Another reason why I would never have sex with her.

At some point, a woman sneaked out from behind the heavy conference room doors. She looked around furtively before making her way over to the bar. I was busy wiping down whisky tumblers, probably for the third time in an hour. When she saw the coast was clear she launched herself across the empty bar area, weaving through the unoccupied tables. and pulled out a bar stool.

She smiled disarmingly. “You’d be out of there too if you had to listen to that tosser.”

“I take it the speeches aren’t very entertaining.”

She looked right at me and smiled widely. “Fucking understatement of the year, lassie.”

“You have a great smile.”
Stop flirting with the patronage.

“Thanks.” She looked as I dried off the glass. “God, you have really good forearms.”

Oh. My.

I’d rolled my sleeves up before washing the few glasses my perfectionist eye hadn’t deemed clean enough. If Annie saw me like this she’d have a continental fit. But taking in the present company, I didn’t really care.

She was a sort-of redhead. More like copper, flecked with golden brown. Her eyes were dirty emeralds and a crooked trail of freckles were scattered across the bridge of her nose. Her mouth appeared both demure and possibly foul at the same time.

“You got any Jameson back there?” she asked. “Make it quick, before the bastards notice I’m gone. Double, on the rocks.”

“So you’re Irish,” I nodded, pouring the whisky with a steady hand.

“What on earth makes you think that?”

“Trace of the accent. Mild, but there. But in all my time as a bartender, an Irishman wants whisky, he wants Jameson.”

“Then you know the Irish were the first to distil whisky.”

“That’s up for debate.”

“Okay. You have something against the Irish?” She swallowed a mouthful of whisky and looked at me. Her eyes held mine for just a moment longer than need be.

“Hardly.” An involuntary charge of arousal jolted up my thighs.

“One more. Quickly.” She moved her glass closer and watched me pour the amber liquid. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you look a little out of place here.”

“Thank god for small mercies.”

I could see the kinky smile around the edge of her glass. She swallowed the whisky in two, three quick successive tips of her wrist, then said, “Better prepare yourself. There’s a lot of bored women about to come out of that conference room in
serious need of booze. Hot little thing like yourself…” She slid off the bar stool. “You’re going to have your hands full.”

 

“Annie! Annie!”

She didn’t see me at first, but how could she? The bar was packed. Women, everywhere. Then finally a gap as I served another Bacardi with a twist of lemon and everyone seemed to have a drink. For now.

Annie walked briskly over to the bar and tapped nonchalantly on the glass top. “Martini, doll.”

I scanned the room whilst making her drink. I can prepare martinis in my sleep by now. Then I spotted her. Irish freckles.

I placed the glass on a serviette and slid it across the counter. “Who’s that?”

“What? Where? Oh.” Annie gave me a smarmy look. “Well, I can’t say that I’m surprised; I did expect you to get your leg over. But I’m afraid you’re out of luck on that one. That’s Jamie Gallagher.”

Annie looked at me expectantly. “I get the feeling I’m supposed to know who she is.”

“Jesus Christ, Kyle; don’t you ever watch the news, read the paper? Jamie Gallagher—as in Gallagher, Sabatini and Larue? The law firm?”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of them. Besides, isn’t she a bit young to be a partner in a law firm?”

“Jamie? She’s thirty-two. I think. Anyway, like I said Kyle, forget about it. She’s got a girlfriend with more piercings than you do. Tattoos up the woo-ha. Bad timing on your part.” She took a lascivious sip of her drink. “She likes ’em young.”

“Fuck. Double whammy. And to think, I just turned twenty-four last week.”

Annie smiled. “Poor dear.”

“Her girlfriend’s here?”

“Yes. Probably waiting in their hotel room. She’s not the type to go round in a business suit.”

A woman came to the bar and ordered another vodka tonic. Annie watched, amused, as she blatantly tried to flirt her way into my pants. Sure, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel flattered. Problem was I couldn’t keep my eyes off Jamie. And I found it intriguing that she didn’t drink after having come out of the banquet hall for the second time. What made the whole thing even more unbearable was that I noticed the stolen glances she directed my way, too. A quick look over the shoulder of someone she greeted with a hug, or an upward turn of the head when she bent down to say something to a friend or acquaintance sitting at a table…