The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica (16 page)

“Good girl. Well done,” she murmured. “See, that wasn’t so bad after all, was it? Nearly done now.”

The finger was removed from her backside and Vanessa heard the officer snap on a fresh pair of the latex gloves and felt a finger very gently probe the entrance to her sex. “Do we need
some more KY? No, I thought not.”

Then the finger was up inside her. Vanessa could gauge her own heat and wetness against its relative chill and she gave a little moan of pleasure.

“My, my. We are getting a little hot under the collar, aren’t we?” And this finger too began to make a thorough examination of her most intimate place.

“Don’t suppose you’ve been getting much fun unless it’s been on your own. Have you?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Like me to continue?” And the first finger was joined by a second.

“Yes. I mean yes, please, Ma’am.”

And then the fingers were replaced by a thumb while they sought out Vanessa’s clitoris and, slick with her own juices, they stroked and caressed and teased and squeezed at her hard little
bud until they brought her to an expert climax.

“Ohhhhhh! Ooooooh! Oh, wow! Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Well, well quite the randy little slut, aren’t we?” And the officer gave her a resounding smack across each of her buttock cheeks, each one raising a livid red palm-print
almost immediately.

“Right, that’s it, young lady. Get yourself dressed and down to see that husband of yours before visiting time’s over for the afternoon. You might find sitting down on our hard
chairs a little uncomfortable but it’ll give you something to think about, if not talk about. You’re obviously clean but next time try and be a little more honest with me . . .
it’ll save us both a lot of time and trouble.”

“Hi, doll, you look great. What kept you?” Steve joked as they hugged and kissed.

“Yeah, sorry I’m late, but you’re never going to believe this. I got pulled by one of the sniffer dogs and they gave me a strip search. Nothing to find, of course, but I still
can’t understand why they picked me.”

There were perhaps twenty or thirty round tables with four chairs at each spaced out around the large room, virtually all occupied, and Steve led her over to his allocated space, off to one
corner and by a large square column.

There was a raised dais along one wall at which sat half a dozen prison officers monitoring proceedings: “It was that blond one, in the middle, who frisked me. Bitch,” Vanessa
whispered.

“That’s Officer Todd, Pam. We call her ’Barbie’ – when she’s not around.”

“Well, she doesn’t look like much of a doll to me.”

“No, silly, it’s short for ’barbed wire knickers’. Some of the guys think she’s a ’lez’ but I’m not so sure, although she can be a bit rough at
times. She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

“Hurt me? No, not exactly. But it certainly wasn’t much fun.”

“What, the strip search? No, I suppose not, but it’s part of the way of life in here. You just get used to it.”

Physical contact between prisoners and relatives is prohibited, but North Lodge, like most other gaols, took a fairly relaxed view of what was and was not permissible.

Steve and Vanessa sat facing each other, her legs parted either side of his, and within a few minutes his hands had crept inside her puffa jacket and were tenderly caressing her breasts through
the thin blouse and bra.

“You always did have great tits, babe. Christ, that feels good.”

“Mmm, yes it does. I miss you so much,” Vanessa murmured in reply. “You’re making me so horny. You can see my nipples are stuck out like bullets. They’re so hard,
they’re aching.”

Steve leaned forward as if he was going to whisper something, but instead he took one of her ear lobes into his mouth, nibbling and sucking on the morsel of flesh. Then his hands were resting on
the tops of her thighs, only to slide down the outside of each one – so slowly it almost seemed like an accident – and then up under her mini-skirt. He suddenly stiffened when his
fingers found the ridge separating stocking-top from the creamy flesh of her thigh, and his eyes widened: “You’re bloody marvellous, but if I’m not careful I’ll spend the
next fortnight going blind over you!”

Then those fingers continued their journey, tracing their path back up over the tops of her thighs – although now hidden beneath her skirt – and down into the hot valley between
until they met at the plump mound of her sex. Her heat and arousal were obvious as he stroked her through the thin panties: “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s gagging for it.
You’re soaking,” he breathed into her ear.

And with a jolt Vanessa realized that not only was it true but she was acutely aware of the burning in her buttocks where Officer Todd had spanked her: so hot she was surprised Steve
couldn’t feel that as well. And she squirmed in discomfort on the hard wooden seat as Steve’s fingers continued to torment and tease her.

Visiting time was over all too soon. The prisoners remained in their seats until all their friends and relatives had left and then were lined up and marched back to their wings.

“Not you, Clarke. Over here to one side,” Officer Todd barked. “Don’t think we didn’t see what you two were getting up to over there in your corner. You know we had
to strip-search your wife on the way in and, as a result, you know we’re going to have to do the same to you now. You also know we didn’t find anything but you might tell the silly
little mare to lay off whatever it was she was taking for at least 48 hours the next time she’s coming in to see you . . . unless of course she wants me to give her another going
over.”

Officer Todd escorted Steve to another examination room, identical to the first except it also contained a single wooden chair with a very high, straight back.

“OK, you know the drill better than I do. Strip off.” Officer Todd put on another pair of latex gloves, lubricated a finger with KY and, with Steve bent over the stool, briskly
carried out the rectal examination and expertly massaged his prostate until his cock was achingly hard . . . not that it took long or much doing in his obviously aroused state.

“And I’ll tell you another thing, Clarke. The strip search wasn’t the only thing I gave your wife. She also got a bloody good finger-fucking. Came all over my hand she did.
Randy little slut, isn’t she? I’ll bet she’s going to be tossing herself off under the covers tonight. Just don’t know who she’s going to be fantasizing about . . .
you or me.”

Neighbours

Marie Gordon

I was jobless and broke when I moved from the city to a low-rent cubby-hole in the county of Hinton. It was furnished in a sort of way, comfortable enough with one large room
divided into lounge/bedroom/kitchen. I knew it wouldn’t be long before word got around that they had a lesso in their midst, and curiosity would soon get the better of them.

Sure enough, one afternoon two weeks later there was a knock on my door. I opened it to a rather plump woman in her thirties, who stood there, holding a cake.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Amanda, live a few doors down. Baked you a cake.”

“Lovely, thanks, Amanda.” I took the cake. “The name’s Jane and please come in.”

She sat on my couch.

“Tea? Coffee? Or something stronger?”

“That one – the last.”

“It’s just sherry.”

“That’s fine.”

I poured, sat beside her and we clicked glasses. “Cheers.”

Amanda sipped, then said. “We don’t waste too many words around here.”

“Then spit it out.” I could guess what was coming.

“You havta know, Jane, you’ve moved into a nest of hets.”

“You have objections?”

“Not me, and probably not them.”

“So?”

“We’re curious. We seen you round and heard you talk, educated, like. What’s your sort doing in a dump like this?”

“I’m broke. Flat. Sure, I’d rather be somewhere else but it’s not on right now. Got the sack from my teaching job for calling a spade a fucking shovel.”

“Come again?”

“I used four-letter words in my sex talks to my students. The principal called it ‘filthy gutter talk’ and gave me my marching orders. So, anything else?”

“Yeah. We want to know – we’d like to know – what do your sort do – in bed?”

I laughed. “Nothing like coming right out with it, Amanda.”

“I’m like that. I don’t—”

“—waste too many words?”

“No.”

“Well, before we sleep we . . .” I stopped, making her wait.

She leaned forward. “And?”

“We make love.”

“I bleedin’ know that, but – how?”

“Want to satisfy your curiosity?”

“I reckon. I think. Maybe.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“You’ll have to suck it and see.”

“I hope you’re speaking metaphoric-like?”

“What do you reckon? Want to give it a go? Then tell your mates about it?”

“Aw . . . aw . . . I don’t know about that.”

“I won’t bite you – not unless you want me to.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Save that for later.” I put a hand on her knee and she jumped. “I’m free this afternoon.”

She was suddenly breathless. “Oh, oh. What time?”

“How about now?”

She swallowed the remains of her drink in a gulp. “Now?”

“Of course I’ll have to be paid.”

“I don’t have any money, Jane. Least none I don’t have to account for.”

“To your husband? You don’t have any money of your own?”

“Nup.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. He’s a bit of an old dog with money but . . . I know . . . I could buy you something. Something legit. My hubby’s a builder – on again, off again one, and
that’s the way the money is. Look around – low-rent houses ’cos no one wants to live here.”

“I could do with some sheets.”

“Right. I’ll buy you a set. No sweat.”

“Okay. Let’s hit the sheets.”

“Wh . . . where’s the bedroom?”

“Just behind this curtain.” I led her to the bed, her eyes darting to the door looking for an escape hatch.

“I don’t know if I—”

“Can do it? Piece of cake, Amanda, but first you have to remove your clothes. Race you.” I whipped mine off, then hopped into bed and waited for my ambivalent bedmate to join me.
“Think of it as an adventure. Now, just relax.”

“How?”

“Three deep breaths should so it. Don’t want you hyperventilating.”

She took the three breaths, then said: “I’m scared.”

“Switch your mind off. Lovemaking belongs to the senses. All you have to do is feel.”

“I feel, all right. I feel like what I’m doing is a mortal sin.”

“That’s thinking, not feeling. Now, if I touch your breasts like this . . . you will feel something . . . there. How does that feel?”

“God.” She took a gulping breath. “Yes . . . um . . . it feels good.”

“Women make better lovers than men because they understand another woman’s body.” As I talked, I caressed her breasts, her beautiful breasts, with nipples already high and
hard. Throughout she gave soft moans of pleasure. “Men don’t really have a clue. I mean, how could they? They have no idea how a woman feels when her nipples are being caressed . . . or
nibbled.”

Louder groans from Amanda.

“You like that?”

She gave another groan of agonized delight.

“Or twisted.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Too early for God, Amanda. Now, if you’ll just turn over on your tummy, then on hands and knees.”

“Do you want me to bark, too?”

“You’ll soon appreciate the necessity for this position. Very soon.”

“Wh-what are you going to do?”

“Relax, Amanda. I’m now putting my fingers in your cunt and they’ll stay there until I find – then activate – your G-spot.”

“G-spot. There’s no such thing.”

“Oh, yes there is. It lies on the front wall – the top part of our cunt. Believe. Now, bear with me. I just have to fossick around a bit . . . I need to exert a fair amount of
pressure until . . .”

Amanda gave small happy moans.

“Sounds like I’ve hit pay dirt. Now, I’ll just keep up firm stroking of your magic spot.”

Amanda’s groans get louder.

“You hate it, I can tell. It’s reacting by not becoming swollen and slippery. Good . . . better . . . that’s great.”

Amanda breathed heavily. “I . . . I’ve never ever felt anything like this before.”

“Let go, Amanda. Go with the flow – and there sure is a flow down here, baby. Give yourself up to it. This is what you were meant for.”

Amanda’s moans gave way to louder and louder groans. “Oh, my God . . . oh . . . oh . . . ooooh. Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck . . . oh, my God.
Jesus bloody
Christ.”

“The religious experience.”

“Don’t stop. Wh-what are you doing? Don’t fer Christ’s sake stop.”

“You want me to go on?”

Amanda yelled, “Yes . . . yes . . . yes, yes yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure.”

“Quite sure?”

“Quit torturing me.”

“Okay.”

Amanda’s cries of pleasure resumed and carried on until . . . “Oh . . . Gooooooooooood. Oh, shit, the neighbours will h-hear me.”

“Fuck the neighbours.”

Amanda gave a strangled laugh. “Yeah . . . F-fuck the n-neighbours.” Screamed, “Oh, my God.”

“Yes, my child?”

“Oh . . . that’s wonder . . . wonderfu . . . wonderful.” With heavy panting and tortured groans, Amanda, with a final scream, was taken over by orgasm.

“Well done, Amanda. Now, roll on your back and let me hold you. Did you enjoy that?”

“Enjoy?” she caught her breath.
“Enjoy?
What do you reckon? My whole fucking body exploded. I’ve never, ever . . . never ever . . .”

“I know, I know. Now you can teach your old dog new tricks.”

Amanda wafted off and I waited for repercussions. Didn’t have to wait long. At two the next day there was a knock on my door. “Business, methinks.” I opened the door to three
women.

“My name is Sarah. May we come in?”

“Have you come to complain?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good. Then come in, sit yourselves down. I’m Jane.”

Two of them sat on my couch; Sarah sat on a chair next to me. She said: “We saw Amanda leave here yesterday in a state of bliss. Couldn’t get any sense out of her. She never sings,
but she was singing, ‘Heaven, I’m in heaven.’ I asked her what had got into her and she giggled, ‘You mean, who?’