Lovers

Cleo lies down on her back and Valerie squats over her belly. Cleo spreads Valerie's cunt with her fingers, and then she slips the fingers inside to take her again.

Valerie rides the older woman's fingers, gyrating her hips, moaning as the fingers stabs her canal. She can feel her juices gushing out. She whimpers with pleasure as Cleo's free hand squeezes one of her breasts.

Cleo chuckles. "Come on, doll, move it. Fuck my fingers."

Valerie groans. "That's what I'm doing."

"Would you like to piss a little? Do it on my hand. I get turned on when a girl pisses on my hand while I'm fucking her."

"Cleo, please . . . "

"Don't you want to?"

Valerie giggled. "That's too much."

"Come on, just a little bit."

"No, I can't!"

She won't do it, not with Cleo. It's too raunchy, too vulgar. She continues grinding her ass, squatting over Cleo as she fucks Cleo's stiff fingers, but she refuses to do what Cleo wants.

Grasping one of Valerie's breasts, Cleo pulls her forward and hunches upward. She pumps her fingers in and out of Valerie's cunt. Valerie moans as Cleo pummels her clit. Now Cleo releases Valerie's breast to grab her ass. Her fingers slice between Valerie's buttocks to probe her anus. Valerie cries out as she feels herself penetrated in both places, Cleo's fingers in her cunt and ass, a total possession as she continues to squat over Cleo with her juices running out to drench both of them. She comes hard, gasping, whimpering, then finally rolling over on her side exhausted.

Cleo takes Valerie in her arms and kisses her, soothing kisses on her eyes and forehead. "You came so hard for me, I love you." Her hands knead Valerie's buttocks, her strong fingers pressing into Valerie's flesh. Valerie cuddles against her, flushed and happy, her lips pressed against Cleo's neck as Cleo continues fondling her ass.

"Do you want the blanket?"

"No, I'm fine," Valerie says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

One of Cleo's fingers finds Valerie's anus and slips inside. "You're so tight."

"Oh, Cleo . . . "

"I can tell you like it."

Valerie whimpers against Cleo's neck. "I don't like it when it hurts."

"Am I hurting you now?"

"No."

"Does it belong to me?"

"Cleo, please . . . "

"Say it."

"Yes."

Cleo chuckles and kisses her mouth. Valerie wants it. She wants everything Cleo wants. Maybe it's revenge against Frankie. If Cleo wants her ass, Valerie will give it to her. Her anus is already twitching around Cleo's invading finger, but the opening is still too dry. "Cleo, use something."

Cleo agrees, says she has some lotion she can use. She brings the bottle from the night table, and Valerie trembles as she lies on her side and watches Cleo spread the lotion over her long fingers. Valerie can feel the heat in her face. She's uncertain again as she imagines those long fingers inside her.

Then Cleo makes her lift one leg, draw the knee up to her chest. Cleo squeezes out another glob of lotion and this time she paints Valerie's anus with it. Valerie groans, her eyes closed as Cleo's finger slowly pushes inside her lubricated ass.

"You're still tight," Cleo says. "Come on, relax for me, honey." Her finger stretches the tight ring, slowly sliding in and out.

The intimacy of the act makes Valerie shudder with pleasure. Yes, she does want this. She wants to be taken this way. The lubrication makes it easy and the pleasure is already intense. Cleo is gentle as she stretches her opening, whispering at her, asking her if it's good, does she like it? telling her she can feel she's relaxing now. Cleo adds a second finger, pushes the second finger inside Valerie's ass, pushes both fingers deep inside the passage as she urges Valerie to open up to her. Valerie moans as she does her best to remain open and loose to the invading digits, gasping at intervals as the two fingers slide in and out of her ass. Cleo is gentle and forceful at the same time. Valerie's ass is now receptive, yielding, craving those long fingers to do more. She's thrilled by it now, shuddering as Cleo kisses her again, as Cleo holds her tightly with her free arm, whispering in her ear, calling her a hot ass bitch. Valerie loves it. She loves all of it. She loves everything about Cleo.

"Come for me, honey. Come for Cleo now."

Valerie cries out, jerks her hips back and forth, and comes hard as her ass clutches at Cleo's fingers.

SIX: FRANKIE

At two o'clock in the afternoon, Frankie is sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Virginia Fay. Three other people are in the room, three expensively dressed middle-aged women, each with a magazine on her lap, each woman idly turning the pages of the magazine with a light rustling sound. The shadow of the receptionist can be seen behind the glass partition.

Frankie is annoyed. This is only her second visit, a new gynecologist for her, and when she made the appointment the girl on the phone assured her she would not need to wait, assured her Dr. Fay understood the needs of professionals and how important it was not to waste time during the working day. Understands nothing, Frankie thinks. Dr. Fay was recommended to Frankie by Sandy Edberg, a female attorney acquaintance of Frankie's. Not a friend, merely an acquaintance, but maybe Sandy understands Frankie is gay. The first visit to Dr. Fay six months ago was uneventful and routine, and at least there hadn't been any waiting that time. Frankie hates waiting in waiting rooms. Restless, she squirms on her chair, picks up a magazine, puts it down again, fidgets with her watchband.

Finally the glass window slides open and the face of the receptionist appears. "Ms.Hooper?"

In a few minutes Frankie is alone in a small examining room, seated on the cushioned examining table, waiting again, her clothes on a clothes tree and her body covered by a green cotton gown. The door opens and Dr. Fay walks in, a tall efficient looking woman of forty in a white coat.

Dr. Fay smiles. "And how are we today?"

"I'm fine," Frankie says.

The doctor makes small talk as she takes Frankie's blood pressure, chitchat about the weather, the traffic on the Outer Drive, the latest exhibit at the Art Institute. "How's the love life?" Dr. Fay says. "Are we taking proper precautions these days?"

"Yes."

"Are you seeing one man exclusively?"

Frankie hesitates. "I'm gay, doctor."

Flustered, Dr. Fay pulls the stethoscope out of her ears and slips it into one of the pockets of her coat. She avoids Frankie's eyes. "Sorry about that. I didn't notice it on your card. I'll be back in a few minutes for the pelvic."

And she leaves.

Frankie is now alone again, irritated by the room, the doctor, her gown, the mushy feel of the examining table underneath her buttocks. She hates doctors and hospitals and all things medical. She has memories of herself as a child screaming during examinations by physicians. She tells herself Dr. Fay ought to have known she's gay because she made a point of telling her during the first visit. Stupid bitch in a white coat, Frankie thinks. She wonders how much trouble she'll have finding another gynecologist.

The door opens and the nurse enters, a thin young woman with dark eyes, unappealing, already pegged by Frankie during the first visit as a dyke. The nurse wants Frankie to lie down and get ready for the pelvic exam, the nurse bringing up the stirrups from the sides of the table, and then when Frankie lies down on her back she lifts Frankie's ankles into place. "That's good," the nurse says, and Frankie gets a small rush as the nurse gives Frankie's cunt an extended look of interest, Frankie imagining the nurse's face buried in it with her long dyke tongue flapping around to make her feel good. But the nurse is too unappealing and Frankie avoids eye contact, amusing herself by imagining what it would be like to be a nurse and look at cunts all day. Marcia only shrugged when Frankie asked, but of course Marcia is a psychiatric nurse and she doesn't get much chance to look at cunts.

Now the door opens and the doctor comes in to examine Frankie. Brusque, efficient, hardly a glance at Frankie's face. Is she more distant than the last time? Does she remember that a short while ago Frankie told her she's gay? Frankie thinks maybe Dr. Fay is more distant because of that, Dr. Fay with a dyke nurse but not gay herself, or if she is gay she doesn't advertise, her fingers now doing things to Frankie's cunt, taking a smear, probing, pulling, almost getting her nose in it as she bends forward with that light on her forehead that makes her look like a fugitive from a science fiction movie. Is she gay? Oh fuck, I don't care, Frankie thinks. All she wants now is to get out of here. She doesn't like the routine here. The other gynecologist had a smoother setup. Maybe she just hates the idea of strange women looking at her cunt.

"You're fine," Dr. Fay says, sliding back on her chair, then rising. "Assuming the pap is negative, I'll see you in six months." A short smile at Frankie, and then she leaves.

Well, the pap better be negative, hadn't it?

The nurse gets Frankie's ankles off the stirrups, gets her legs down, but instead of leaving she dawdles. "Was it raining when you came in?"

"No, not at all."

"I never remember to bring my umbrella."

Frankie wants the nurse to leave before she removes the gown and gets dressed. She sits on the table and waits, but the nurse insists on puttering in one of the cabinets.

The nurse says: "On some days this job is a pain."

Frankie doesn't answer, pretends she has nothing to say, waits for the nurse to leave, and finally the nurse mutters something else and she walks out. Dumb bitch, Frankie thinks.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Frankie is in her office when her secretary buzzes her. "There's a Miss Marcia Mason here. Says she's one of your clients."

Frankie curses under her breath. "All right, show her in and hold my calls."

In a moment Marcia enters the office and closes the door behind her. "You don't mind, do you? I got off work early and I thought I would drop by."

Frankie does her best to sound pleasant. "It's better if you telephone first."

Instead of sitting down, Marcia walks over to where Frankie is seated behind her desk and she bends forward to kiss Frankie's lips. "Don't be angry with me, I just wanted to see you."

"I'm not angry," Frankie says, apprehensive now because she's afraid to get caught with Marcia by the others in the office. Frankie rises, and she goes to the door to lock it. Now she feels more secure, and when she returns to Marcia, she leads Marcia away from the window and she kisses her. "I don't usually bring my personal life into the office, pet."

"I'm sorry."

"Never mind, you're here already." The fact is Frankie isn't that displeased now that she has Marcia standing so close to her she can smell Marcia's perfume and look down at the ripe swells of Marcia's breasts in her scoop-neck peasant blouse. "You're not wearing a bra," Frankie says.

Marcia giggles. "That's right."

They kiss again, and this time Frankie gets her hands on Marcia's lovely full breasts, enjoying the feel of them after the rotten day she's had. She gets one of Marcia's breasts over the top of the blouse and she starts sucking it, Marcia encouraging her by holding the tit with her hand and making noises of pleasure as Frankie's lips tug at the fat nipple. "God, I love the way you do that!" Marcia says.

Her mouth fixed on the tip of the large breast, Frankie slides a hand under Marcia's billowing skirt to find the sopping crotch of Marcia's pantyhose. Her fingers insistent, probing, forceful, Frankie rubs Marcia's plump cunt until Marcia groans and comes.

"Oh Jesus!" Marcia gasps.

"Come on, let's get out of here. I'll tell them I'm leaving early."

* * *

In Marcia's apartment, Marcia lies naked on her bed with her breasts lolling on her chest like a pair of balloons and a Panasonic Special buzzing between her spread legs. The vibrator has a huge disc-shaped head rimmed with black rubber, angled by Marcia now so the edge of the disc pushes between her labia. Marcia moans, her face sweaty, her knees shaking at intervals as the pleasure tears through her cunt.

Frankie sits on a chair near the bed. She's wearing an undershirt and underpants, what she had on under her suit when she arrived with Marcia. Nothing much has happened yet, except Marcia ignoring Frankie and having fun with her vibrator, which makes Frankie think maybe Marcia is too much for her, too sexually uncontrolled. She doesn't mind Marcia using the vibrator, what she minds is just watching it without doing anything. She's also a little amazed at the way Marcia appears to be having a continuous orgasm. When Frankie uses a vibrator, she comes in spurts, bang, bang, bang, not one continuous convulsion. She hasn't ever done it with Valerie, not with a vibrator. They've used dildoes, but nothing electrical. The fact is vibrators make Frankie unhappy because she thinks they're much too mechanical. She would rather use her mouth and fingers on a woman than use something you plug into a wall.

Frankie finally leaves the chair and she crouches to pull the vibrator plug out of the electric outlet in the wall.

Marcia suddenly cries out, looks at the dead vibrator and then looks at Frankie. "Hey, what the hell is going on?"

"Either you put that thing away or I leave," Frankie says.

Marcia giggles. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not kidding."

Frankie climbs on the bed. She takes the vibrator out of Marcia's hands and she puts it on the night table. Then she spreads Marcia's legs and she gets her body between Marcia's thighs with her pubic bone mashed against Marcia's cunt.

"Oh yeah," Marcia says. She lifts her knees, but Frankie wants them down. When Frankie has the arrangement she wants, she begins grinding her cunt against Marcia's cunt, a steady slow fucking with Frankie's underpants quickly drenched by Marcia's flowing juices.

Marcia comes, but it's not enough for her. When Frankie pulls back, Marcia rolls over on her knees. "Do it to me like this."

Frankie's excitement increases as she gazes at Marcia's hairy cunt and ass. Marcia has more hair down there than most women. Frankie strokes Marcia's buttocks. She tickles the plump cunt, and then she spreads the lips apart with her fingers and she gets her tongue on Marcia's clit. The chunky brunette presses backward, attempting to get more pressure on her clit, moaning now as Frankie begins a steady lapping of the running cunt, her tongue lapping up and down as she licks up the rich flowing juices.

"Come on, rim me," Marcia says. But Frankie has no interest in it, and she's also a bit resentful that Marcia asks for it. Frankie can't remember anyone who actually asked her for it. Rimming is something you do or don't do, but it should be up to the rimmer, Frankie thinks. Instead, she sucks Marcia's cunt with more vigor, getting her tongue inside the vaginal opening and fluttering it in and out as Marcia squeals and humps her ass back at Frankie's face.

Later, as she gets dressed, Frankie thinks maybe she ought to end it with Marcia. Maybe it's time to end it because Marcia is really too much for her. But she says nothing to Marcia, and at the door she kisses Marcia goodby and she squeezes one of Marcia's breasts.

* * *

That evening, as Frankie and Valerie sit together in the living room, Valerie says: "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"Is there something going on between us?"

"If there is I don't know about it."

"I have the feeling something's going on."

"There's nothing going on."

"It's like you never have time for me."

"You're talking about sex."

"Yes."

"Valerie, you know how busy I am."

"That's what I mean, you're always busy."

"You're being silly again. I'm no busier now than I was when we first met. I'm in a busy profession."

Valerie says nothing. She returns to flipping the pages of her magazine, one of her crossed legs swinging like a metronome.

* * *

Two hours later, Frankie is standing in the hallway outside their bedroom. The bedroom door is open just a crack, but it's enough so she can see into the room, see everything clearly, see Valerie on the bed in her pink nightgown that Frankie thinks is too cute, Valerie with her knees up, the nightgown pulled back, her right hand between her thighs and her fingers in her cunt.

Frankie watches it. She could walk in and interrupt her or she can stand here and watch it. She chooses to watch it, wondering if maybe Valerie expects it, wondering why she feels differently about Valerie these days. In the beginning Frankie told herself this was it, Valerie was everything she wanted, they would be happy forever and ever and nothing would ever come between them. Now she watches the jerking movement of Valerie's hand and she wonders why she was ever so naive about Valerie, so naive about what she herself wants out of life.

SEVEN: VALERIE

"It makes me feel uncomfortable," Valerie says to Cleo.

They sit opposite each other in a booth in a restaurant. It's two o'clock in the afternoon and Valerie is uncomfortable because for the past ten minutes Cleo has been asking her questions about her sex life with Frankie. Valerie thinks it's disloyal to talk about Frankie to Cleo, but one part of her mind tells her she's being silly because the worse disloyalty is the way she secretly has sex with Cleo behind Frankie's back.

Cleo says: "You mean it makes you hot."

Valerie blushes. "I didn't say that. I said it makes me uncomfortable to talk about Frankie behind her back."

"I thought you liked me."

"I do, Cleo. I like you a lot."

"But not enough to tell me what you do with Frankie."

Valerie groans. She looks around the restaurant one more time to make sure none of Frankie's friends are in the room. She wasn't that happy when Cleo suggested this place, but now that they're here there isn't much she can do about it. "We don't do anything unusual. Anyway, I don't know why it's so important to talk about it."

Cleo smirks, glancing at Valerie and then at the waitress as she walks by their table. "It's important because it interests me. Has she ever fisted you?"

Valerie feels the flush in her face. "No."

"When was the last time you did anything together."

"Saturday night."

Cleo chuckles. "Oh yeah. Wednesdays and Saturdays, isn't it? What did you do with her?"

"Cleo, please . . . "

"You know you're going to tell me. Just tell me what you did with her."

And so Valerie describes to Cleo what happened between her and Frankie on Saturday night, how they went out to dinner and then afterward made love for a change in the living room, Frankie insisting that Valerie kneel on the sofa while Frankie fucked her from behind with her fingers.

Cleo looks amused. "Did you like it?"

"Yes, of course I did."

"And what did you do after that? Did you go down on her?"

Valerie blushes. "No, we just went to sleep."

"That's all? What's her cunt like? Does she have a big clit?"

"Cleo, please . . . "

"Please what, honey?"

"Please keep your voice down, we're in a restaurant."

"Hell, I know that. All I'm thinking about now is getting my tongue a mile up your pussy and wiggling it around. Would you like that?"

"Oh god."

* * *

In Cleo's cluttered tiny bathroom, Valerie has her panties off and her skirt hiked up to her waist as she bends forward over the toilet to show Cleo her ass.

"My precious doll," Cleo says.

Valerie groans as she supports her weight with one hand on the tank behind the toilet. "You always get me so hot."

She feels Cleo's hand on her ass, Cleo's fingers sliding between her buttocks to find her cunt. Valerie moans as Cleo spreads the petals and teases her with a tickling fingertip.