Lovers

Frankie sits on a chair in Alison's bedroom. Alison is on the bed, her body wrapped in a robe, lying on her side as she idly turns the pages of a fashion magazine. Relaxed on the chair, Frankie watches Alison, her eyes on Alison's legs revealed by the askew robe, the nylon-clad ankles, the elegant high-heeled slippers that make her feet look so enchanting.

Now Alison puts the magazine away and she rises from the bed. She sighs, fluffs her blonde hair and walks over to the dressing table. Is she annoyed at something? Frankie can't imagine what it is. She always does her best to keep Alison pacified. The problem is Alison is often too sophisticated, too difficult to please. Frankie finds it difficult to predict from one time to the next what Alison might want. The affair has a certain breathless pace, a pace determined by Alison and not by Frankie.

Alison removes her robe. Frankie feels a sudden bubble of lust forming in her belly as she looks at Alison who is now wearing only beige stockings with elastic tops and the high heels. Alison has a definite penchant to tease. Avoiding Frankie's eyes, she stands at the dressing table toying with her bare breasts, her fingers circling the globes as though to measure them. What a pet she is. The silk panties are a mauve color. Her legs look so delicious in sheer nylon, her thighs firm above the dark tops of the stockings. She pulls at her nipples with her fingertips, uninhibited, playing with her body as though Frankie isn't there. Frankie has a sudden desire to touch her, and she now rises to approach Alison. For a moment they stand close without contact, Alison turning to look at Frankie, her eyes amused. On the wall behind Alison is a small oil painting of a white moon over a blue lake.

Alison says: "Why don't you undress? I never get to look at you."

Of course it's not true. She has looked at Frankie's body often enough. But Frankie doesn't argue. She turns away and she starts undressing, removing each item of her clothing with deliberate care, the suit jacket, the string tie, the white blouse, the tailored skirt. She slips her feet out of her flat shoes and she quickly gets rid of her pantyhose. Now she wears only maroon androgynous underpants. Her nipples are stiff, the areolas contracted around the dark points. When she looks at Alison, she sees the interest in Alison's eyes. What does she want? Frankie thinks. She's never comfortable being naked with a femme. She has a sudden fear Alison will send her away.

Dear god, what a wrenching beauty she is! She imagines Alison yielding to her. She wonders if she ought to remove her underpants, and she decides to keep wearing them. Her cunt is leaking into the crotch, and she's certain if she opens her legs the stain will be visible. Does Alison appreciate that? Alison is looking at Frankie, but her interest is directed at Frankie's almost nonexistent breasts rather than at her crotch. Frankie is uneasy under Alison's gaze. She pretends to arrange her clothing on the chair, and as she does this she willfully contracts her buttocks to produce a tingling stab of pleasure in her anus, an absurd moment that makes her want to giggle like a silly girl. Does Alison understand anything? Frankie finishes adjusting her clothing on the chair, and now with a twinge of annoyance she quickly peels her underpants off and she tosses them on the pile of clothes without looking at the crotch to inspect the wetness.

She faces Alison. They stand about six feet apart, Alison's right hand now raised to position her fingers in the valley between her breasts. Frankie hesitates a moment, and then she says: "Do you have any skin lotion I can use? My arms are dry."

Alison finds the plastic bottle on the dressing table and she hands it to Frankie, who turns away from Alison as she squeezes out some lotion on her palm and then rubs it into her forearm. Frankie guesses Alison is now looking at her ass, but she'd rather have her ass looked at than the rest of her. Her technique has always been to avoid attention to her body, a ridiculous idea since women always like the way she looks.

As if reading Frankie's mind, Alison says: "I like your body."

Frankie quivers, aware of a gush of juice between her legs. Now she's wondering what to do with Alison, or what Alison will want from her. Sometimes, like now, Alison likes to extend the foreplay a long time before they get down to the real fucking. Unfortunately, it's the fucking that Frankie likes best, the hard deliberate fucking of Alison's lovely body. She quivers as she recalls probing Alison's openings with her fingers.

Unexpectedly, Alison moves closer to Frankie and she strokes one of Frankie's arms. "Are you still working out?"

Frankie nods. "It's a good health club. I could take you in as a guest some time."

Alison smiles. "I wouldn't last five minutes in one of those places."

"But everyone needs exercise."

Alison seems fascinated by Frankie's muscular arms. Frankie gazes at Alison's breasts and she feels an urge to run her tongue over the luscious tips. She's hot now. She'd like her saliva dripping on those fruity tits. She quivers as Alison's hand slides across her chest, the blonde's fingers playfully pinching one of Frankie's turgid nipples.

"Anyway, I do like your body," Alison says.

"Let's get on the bed."

Alison laughs softly as Frankie urges her toward the bed. They fall on the bed together, arms and legs wrapped around each other, one body pressed against the other in a hot kiss. Frankie clamps her mouth against Alison's as she pushes her tongue between Alison's lips. Her hand finds one of Alison's breasts and she squeezes it, palpating the flesh, her mouth working against Alison's. The blonde croons with pleasure as Frankie pinches her nipple. Frankie moves her head down, moves her mouth to Alison's breasts. She takes the nipple she has just pinched, takes it between her lips and slowly drips her saliva over it. Does Alison understand how much she adores her?

Alison moans. "Kiss me everywhere."

Frankie's head is reeling with excitement as she wonders exactly what Alison means. Kiss me everywhere. The blonde's beauty intoxicates Frankie. Alison rolls from side to side on her back. So desirable. Frankie runs her hands over Alison's full breasts, over the nipples sticking up like darts. Alison's pink nipples are a provocation. Frankie bends to the feast, licking Alison's breasts, sucking each nipple in turn. Alison bends her head to watch Frankie's mouth. Frankie uses her hands to wiggle a breast against her lips. She's hungry for both nipples, annoyed she can't take them at the same time, two hard raisins so delicious it makes her tremble. She gives them the full treatment, rubbing her face in the cleft between the two full breasts, rubbing her wet mouth over the nipples until they seem to swell into enormous berries. She inhales the scent of Alison's blonde skin.

Then Alison presses the top of Frankie's head. Frankie knows. She puts up no resistance to it. She rolls her face over Alison's diaphragm as she drags her mouth downward. There is no need for Alison to tell her what she wants. Frankie knows. She tugs at the waistband of Alison's panties.

"Pretty panties," Frankie says.

"Do you really like them?"

The meaningless chatter of two lovers. Frankie presses her cheek against the nylon. Alison wants to be sucked and Alison as usual is tenacious. She pushes at Frankie's head again. Frankie pulls the panties down, tantalizing herself as she slowly uncovers more skin, the blonde bush, a thrill as she sees all of the triangle. What a lovely thick tuft she has! Alison lifts her ass to make the removal of the panties easier. Frankie pulls them off, sliding the wisp of nylon over Alison's nylon-clad legs, excited by the stockings that make Alison look so decadent. Alison lifts her knees, opening her thighs wide, then hooking one leg around Frankie to draw her in.

The blonde's meaty cunt is waiting like a pink clam. Frankie bends to it, bends to the eating of the clam as Alison moans with pleasure.

Before long Alison has both legs hooked around Frankie's back, her thighs wide apart, her cunt completely available to Frankie's mouth. Frankie uses her fingers to caress the outer lips. She wiggles the cunt with her fingertips, making the inner lips swell and open like petals. Alison's inner thighs are perfumed, and mixed with the perfume is the heady scent of her sex. Frankie spreads the cunt wider, sniffing at it, wetting her nose with the blonde's syrup, nuzzling at the mouth of her vagina. Then she mashes her mouth against the cunt and she slurps in the velvet. Alison moans more loudly.

Frankie strokes her tongue up and down, around in the hole and then licking upward to Alison's clitoris. The blonde's juices are flowing. Frankie nibbles at the lips, whips the clit with her tongue and then sucks it between her lips as she twists her face in the wet swamp. Finally, she moves down to plunge her tongue inside the gaping vagina, her hands holding the larger lips apart, her tongue thrusting in and out rapidly, then stopping as she sucks the juices, then thrusting her tongue again. She knows how much Alison likes this. Alison has told her so. Frankie sucks up the juices, and then she bites one of the lips before burying her face in the clam again. Her desire is intense, suffocating, relentless. She feels Alison pulling at her hair and she finally raises her head. The cunt, the haven, is now abandoned as Alison gazes at her with hot eyes. Frankie's heart beats wildly as she watches Alison take hold of her breasts with her hands and give her a coy look. Frankie adores her. She has her now but she wants even more of her.

Alison smiles and says: "Let me roll over."

Ah yes. Frankie backs away and Alison rolls over on her belly. Now Alison's lovely round ass is visible. She settles herself on the mattress with her thighs together, her buttocks tightly closed. Frankie's pulse races as she takes in the ass and the stockings, the firm full thighs tapering to the fine calves, then the beauty of Alison's ass again.

With a groan of desperate excitement, Frankie lowers her face to run her mouth over the curve of a smooth buttock.

Alison whimpers, responding with a gentle wiggle of her hips.

Frankie treats the blonde's ass with reverence. She finds her own clitoris with her fingers, and as she slides her parted lips over Alison's buttock, she rubs the shaft of her clitoris with her fingertips.

She cherishes Alison's ass. She licks it with her wet tongue. The skin is like ivory, the flesh beneath it both firm and resilient, smooth and soft and warm. Frankie feels her own juices drizzling on her fingers as she moves to the other buttock.

Alison appears fascinated by Frankie's attentions. She whimpers, she bleats, she wriggles her ass under Frankie's face. They have done this before and Frankie knows Alison is fully aware how far it will go, how devoted Frankie can be, how loving to this part of her anatomy. "I like the way you do my ass," Alison once said. This made Frankie tremble with embarrassment, and she hurriedly turned away in order to hide her face.

Now Frankie manipulates both buttocks with her hands. Alison responds to everything she does. The blonde moves her thighs apart, her skin catching the afternoon sunlight as she draws her knees forward a bit. This raises her ass, and as Frankie nuzzles in the crack, Alison moves her knees again and her ass lifts even further.

Frankie is lost. Using both hands, she opens Alison's ass, pulls at the two loaves, pulls them apart even as she blushes at her own lust. But no one can see the blush. She buries her face between Alison's buttocks and she moves her lips around as she kisses everywhere except the rosebud. The skin in the groove is soft and luscious and scented with Alison's perfume. Frankie cups Alison's cunt in her palm to feel the wetness, the wet heat of it. She slides her mouth down to the vaginal entrance now so blatantly exposed the opening gapes as a dark red hole.

With a groan, Alison arches her ass upward another few inches. Her knees slide further apart, her thighs widening, her ass gently rolling.

Frankie's mind is in a whirl. It occurs to her she'd rather have Alison in a garter belt. These stockings with elastic tops are sexy, but a garter belt would be more interesting. She wants the feel of garters under her fingertips as she presses her face into Alison's full ass. She tells herself she needs to find a way to let Alison know, whisper it sometime when Alison isn't expecting it. She imagines Alison will be amused and say yes, she'll wear a garter belt if Frankie wants it.

Now Frankie gazes at the tendrils of hair in the crack. She holds Alison's hips as Alison writhes. She runs her thumbs along the inner slopes of Alison's buttocks, her fingers splayed to their full extent as she takes possession of Alison's ass. Below the split between the two buttocks, the pouch of Alison's cunt is a like a hairy mouth begging for attention.

Maybe sometime she'll have her on a boat, take her this way with the wind in the sails.

The counterpane on the bed is made of pink satin, now spotted in places with sweat and cunt syrup.

Both hands on Alison's ass, Frankie wiggles the cheeks, pulls the buttocks apart as she gazes at Alison's anus.

Frankie's clitoris feels swollen, enormous. She looks down at her belly and she wonders if later on she'll have a chance to rub herself on Alison's ass and thighs. Alison is never predictable. The affair has its peaks and valleys. Frankie;s head is now pounding with lust, her cunt oozing.

Alison elevates her ass even further, offering it to Frankie, and now looking at Frankie over her shoulder. "Kiss me some more," Alison says.

Frankie becomes the lover commanded. She lowers her face again, nuzzling between Alison's buttocks. A great heat seems to radiate from the two globes. Frankie rubs her nipples against Alison's thighs, catching one nipple at the top of a stocking. She tries to remember what they did the last time. She wants their lovemaking to have enough variety to prevent Alison from getting bored. Now she slides her mouth over Alison's anus, wetting it, tickling it with her tongue, then placing her tongue directly on the ring and pushing just hard enough to make Alison feel it.

Alison moans. Frankie has a hand on her own cunt, her palm slowly rubbing her wet flesh, the wet mat of pubic hair. Does Alison realize how hot this makes her? For a brief moment, Frankie feels an urge to rebel against Alison's need to be serviced. This body worship. Frankie's cunt gushes in her hand, the syrup flowing over her fingers. Dear god, she's dripping. Alison bumps her ass upward. Frankie feels a tingling in her clitoris as she grips Alison's buttocks with her hands. Her tongue has now penetrated the tight ring, Alison groaning as she presses her ass back against Frankie's face. The blonde's thighs are wide apart, her back bent, her face turned to the side and pressed into the pillow, her eyes closed as she focusses all her attention on what Frankie is doing to her ass. For Frankie the caress is a violation, a possession, the heat in her chest rising as she plasters her lips against Alison's anus to suck it into a yielding softness.

Is the room too warm? The sweat seems to roll off Frankie's breasts in a torrent. She keeps her tongue active, sensitive to each cry of pleasure from Alison, probing vigorously and then relaxing to a mere delicate fluttering at the entrance.

When Alison finally comes, it's like the eruption of a volcano, her body quaking as Frankie suddenly transfers her hand from her own cunt to Alison's cunt, her fingers taking Alison's vagina, two fingers penetrating, thrusting deep inside the tunnel, sliding in and out as her tongue continues to wriggle in the blonde's receptive anus.

Afterward, after they bathe together and spread lotion over their bodies, Frankie makes love to Alison's ass again. Alison giggles and tells Frankie she's insatiable.

FOURTEEN: VALERIE

When Frankie's law firm sends her to Washington for a few days, Valerie agrees to go dancing with Cleo in the evening. They go to a lesbian bar, Valerie tingling with excitement and apprehension because it's possible someone who knows Frankie will see her with Cleo.

Once inside the crowded bar, Valerie's head becomes filled with the music, the noise, the press of so many women surrounding her. She hasn't had an evening out like this one in such a long time. She stands beside Cleo as Cleo waves to her friends, talks to her friends, ignoring Valerie who doesn't mind it because she doesn't want to be conspicuous. She's hoping after they leave the bar Cleo will take her home and give her a workout. Thinking about that makes Valerie shiver with excitement, the familiar excitement that occurs whenever she thinks of the way Cleo handles her like a rag doll. Her syrup is flowing. She can feel it. The ambience in the bar, the rush, the noise, the mix of perfume turns her on.

Before long a mannish looking dyke swaggers over to say hello to Cleo, and Valerie gets to meet Pauly. They chat awhile, and then Cleo slides an arm around Pauly's shoulders and smiles at Valerie. "Pauly's an old friend, Val. You be nice to her while I go say hello to someone."

Valerie is peeved, but there isn't much she can do about it as Cleo walks off into the crowd. Pauly presses against Valerie, presses her against the bar and says: "What'll you have, honey? You want another daiquiri?"

The play is there, Pauly playing her, running a hand over Valerie's back at the same time as her knee comes up to push through Valerie's dress against her crotch. For a moment Valerie wants to rebel, but she finds that impossible. She realizes now Cleo may want this. The booze and the loud music make everything seem so wild. She wonders if she ought to keep away from Pauly. But no, Pauly won't have that. Pauly moves in, kisses the side of her neck, whispers into Valerie's ear that Valerie's breasts look delicious in the low-cut dress, a real handful. "I like tits," Pauly says as she turns to take another swig of beer out the glass.

Just at that moment a girl Valerie knows passes them, the girl's eyes turning to look at them, the girl smiling as she recognizes Valerie, raising an eyebrow, then passing on without saying anything. Valerie wonders if the girl thinks she's with Pauly. Oh hell, Valerie thinks.

Pauly takes Valerie onto the dance floor. Pauly has a strong body, and when she starts dancing she looks more mannish than ever. Valerie glances around the crowded dance floor and she suddenly sees Cleo with a girl, a pretty blonde in a slinky dress, the two of them dancing. Valerie trembles with jealousy. She damns Cleo and Cleo's habit of making her look small. Cleo seems mesmerized by the pretty blonde. The room is filled with gorgeous femmes, and now Valerie wonders why she ever agreed to this date with Cleo. She's not with Cleo anyway, she's with Pauly now. And she can tell Pauly has an itch for her. That look in Pauly's eyes means Pauly wants her in bed. Valerie imagines Pauly's thick fingers inside her cunt.

Oh yes, Pauly wants her. Cleo obviously doesn't care one way or the other. Valerie tells herself she means nothing to Cleo. Maybe that's why Cleo treats her like garbage. She continues dancing with Pauly, and now as they shake their bodies past a mirror, Valerie looks at herself dancing with this big woman who wants to get inside her pants. She imagines it, imagines herself unrestrained with Pauly. What a mannish body she has, the way she moves, the way she tosses those strong arms around. Valerie feels helpless. Frankie is in Washington and Cleo is with another girl and she feels so alone, like a nothing little shadow of other women. That's all she is, a little shadow of Frankie and Cleo.