Sexy Lesbian Erotica
"Signs and Wonders," a sex story by Angela Palermo
It’s not something I would normally do, staying late at work on a Friday night, or any other night, for that matter. But my life changed and I started to wonder if I would ever feel “normal” again. I was out of sorts and barely hanging on. I had broken up with Jacqueline (Oh Christ, don’t call her Jackie!) six months earlier after being together for nearly eight years. I just couldn’t take her coldness and lack of emotional engagement any longer. At the end, I felt so suffocated, undermined and undernourished.
Despite the almost unquenchable loneliness, I didn’t think I was strong enough to reenter the dating pool. At the age of forty-two, it seemed such a daunting and uninviting task. I didn’t want to sit around in bars, watching drunken lesbians play pool badly and “processing” their latest breakups. I had been away from that scene for almost a decade and had no desire to go back. My friend Matty suggested putting a profile on a queer dating site, but found myself unable to summon the necessary energy or enthusiasm for even that. I didn’t relish trying to sell myself on the open market. My currency was debased and deflated, or so it seemed.
Instead, I stayed long hours at the bank, working my way through stacks of loan applications. Soon enough, I became our most productive loan officer. Corporate HQ even recognized me for my diligence and hard work, putting a letter of commendation in my HR file. Not that I really cared about them. All I wanted to do was help other people especially at a time when I seemed unable to help myself. I figured that if I was having a hard time emotionally, I could at least help our applicants financially.
I sometimes cut corners so that I wouldn’t have to say no, deciding that collateral is, well, overrated. I imagined these strangers expanding their small businesses or cruising Chatfield Reservoir in brand new boats. It’s those sorts of images that kept me going through the long days and nights. One of the few things that brought any joy.
On a particular Friday night, I didn’t emerge from the bank until just after 9:00. I’d burrowed through every last application. There was simply nothing left to do. My productivity was my own worst enemy.
I walked to my car on that cool October evening, thinking of nothing but going to bed. Slipping away from consciousness for hours on end seemed like a good way to make it through another boring, tedious weekend, even if I sometimes was haunted by visions of Jacqueline in my dream life.
I’m not sure why, but as I fished for my car keys in my capacious brown leather purse that night, I cast my gaze skyward. Had the light caught my eye? Almost straight overhead, I witnessed an astronomical event like no other, none that I had ever seen, at any rate. A huge glowing shape lit up at least a quarter of the night sky. I looked up with amazement, a total childlike wonder. I first thought it must be a comet, what with that long vaporous tail trailing behind it, throwing off sparks and shades of blue, red, and orange as it tumbled many miles above the Earth. After perhaps ten seconds, its incandescence faded out. From that, I knew it must have been a meteorite, and as big as our twenty story bank building with that sort of garish display.
I continued staring upward for another few seconds, hoping, I think, that the firmament would reignite, before returning to the mundane task of driving home. My car’s engine coughed and wheezed when I turned over the ignition, but it did start, however begrudgingly. I cringed when I heard Jacqueline’s voice upbraiding me for my laziness and lack of attention: “Why can’t you ever take care of the things that should be important to you?! Barb, you can be so damn irresponsible!”
I tried to ease my vehicle into the flow of traffic, but it had different ideas, sputtering and bucking as I left the parking lot. Its condition seemed to mirror my own these last six months. Did the car know the state of my suffering heart? Was it mirroring my troubles in its groaning mechanical workings? Or was Jacqueline right, was I just too damn lazy to give it the regular maintenance it requires?
With these questions swirling inside me, I returned in my mind’s eye to the blazing meteorite’s image. I could still see it streaking across the sky, colorful and unexpected. I was so distracted, that I almost missed the turn onto Yale Avenue. I came squealing into the intersection, only missing the car in the left turn lane by scant few inches. I gasped quickly for breath, scolding myself for not watching the road.
At the third stop sign on Yale, my car finally gave up the ghost. The engine went out with a pathetic thud. I pleaded with it, bargaining, “If you’ll start now, I promise to take you in tomorrow.” It ignored me, preferring to lay derelict on the road’s shoulder.
I got out of the car, sighing and feeling defeated. I ran my fingers through my hair as I tried to think of what to do next. Here I was, a woman alone at night in a strange neighborhood. My mind raced trying to think of who I could call to pick me up. Matty was out of town and Rachel was meeting her girlfriend’s parents for the first time. I waved at the occasional passing car, but no one pulled over to assist me. I grew desperate, thinking I might have to reach out to Jacqueline. Just as I was about to punch the number 3 (I had yet to remove her from my speed dial), a motorcycle slowed to a stop.
“Barb?” asked the rider above the machine’s din, in what was clearly a woman’s voice.
“Yes,” I answered, “it’s me.” I couldn’t help but stare at the figure clad in a tight fitting leather racing jacket. I just had to know who this shapely apparition was.
Removing her helmet, I saw Katie Morris’ smiling face. I had met Katie a few times and liked her well enough. I’d even hung out with her and Rachel one afternoon a few years back and had a good time. She had never done that much for me physically, but I felt more than a little turned on by this muscular soft butch on a bike.
“My car broke down,” I told her. “Just up and died on me.” And added in a mumble, “I should have taken better care of it.”
Katie pulled her bike onto the sidewalk and cut the engine. “That totally sucks, but don’t worry,” she said. She called her friend Ahmed, who owns a towing company, to pick up my car first thing in the morning and haul it over to Station Automotive, where her brother Jeff worked. We pushed the car onto the nearest side street for the night.
Katie apologized for not having a spare helmet with her. “Not a problem,” I replied, “I’m just glad you came along when you did!”
I jumped on the bike as Katie said, “I’m hungry, let’s go eat. Gypsy House has the best hummus in town.” I agreed without hesitation. At that point, I would have gone wherever she wanted to take me. I could feel my clit getting hard as we rode, my arms wrapped tight around her waist.
We ordered the big vegetarian Middle Eastern platter for two and flirted at the corner booth in the back. I was feeling confident and sexy for the first time in many, many months. I dabbed a bit of hummus on the end of her nose. Katie grinned and said in mock scolding voice, “Don’t play with your food, young lady,” as I learned over and licked off the tasty dollop.
She upped the ante by smudging baba ganoush just above my upper lip. I waited those few seconds with such anticipation. She gave me a tender, wet kiss as I caressed her back. We were lip locked for several seconds before she moved back to her side of the booth. I stared at her whiskey-brown eyes, hoping, longing that I might lose myself in them.
We ate the remainder of our meal as quickly as we could, flagging the waitress for our check, which Katie graciously picked up. She held my hand as we walked back to her bike. Flashing a naughty smirk, she tossed me onto the back seat before climbing on herself. My mind (and clit) fixated on visions of Katie’s naked body as her machine raced through the streets of Capitol Hill.
We climbed the stairs to her apartment with a speed just short of abandon. But I slowed my pace when I noticed the deep blue hue above the banisters and the golden stars strewn around. Through the middle of this starry field blazed a comet or meteorite or whatever it was I had witnessed not even two hours earlier. I spun around trying to take it all in, my mouth agape. I was amazed at the synchronicity of it all. The ill omen had turned good, very good indeed.
I heard Katie drop her keys at the top of the landing. She must have seen my eyes drawn upward as I stood halfway down the stairs.
“You like my work?” she queried, and then added, as if an afterthought, “Did that a couple of months ago with John in Apartment 12.”
I shook my head and smiled. “It’s so beautiful,” I said, “like you.”
While I climbed the rest of the stairs, Katie picked her keys back off the floor. They jingled in her right hand as the knuckles of her left scraped along her denim-covered leg. I couldn’t stop myself from leaping forward to when I would peel that roughness from her smooth, well-muscled thighs.
As we slipped in the door, she set her iPod stereo on shuffle mode. In a few seconds, Prince was crooning about crying doves. I knew just what he meant. I walked over to Katie and kissed her hard as I unzipped her leather jacket. She pulled it from her arms while I began playing with her tits. I could see stiff headlights through her light blue dress shirt. The thought of her wearing men’s clothing got me so hot my clit was throbbing.
We both worked quickly to remove her shirt. I ran my hands up her belly and around her back so I could unhook the plain ivory bra she was wearing. As it fell, I bent down a little to kiss her hard nipples. She moaned softly while running her fingers through my shoulder length hair. I surprised myself a little by being so bold. I almost always let the other woman take the lead when making love, but I was so brimming with desire that I took charge without a second thought.
Suddenly, Katie picked me up and carried me to her bed. I gave a mock scream and we both laughed. No sooner had we landed, than I was on top, holding her arms down and teasing her nipples once again with my tongue. She broke her arms free within a few seconds and pulled off my top.
“These just have to go, no matter how sexy they make you look,” I said, pointing at her jeans and Docs. I pulled off her remaining clothes, including her striped boxer shorts, with a desire-fueled haste. I dove into her bush, tonguing her lips and engorged clit. She was already practically dripping with cum. I lapped up her juice with relish. And, believe it or not, she tasted a little like the Safeway brand of root beer I loved as a kid. (I was going to tell her so but didn’t want to risk breaking the mood. Maybe later, I thought.)
I moved my tongue slowly at first, wanting to build her up to fierce, cascading orgasm. After a minute or so, she began bucking her hips and moaning. When she came, her body trembled and she cried out, shouts and moans mixing together.
I wasted no time in knowing what came next. I asked Katie if she had a harness and dildo. I just HAD to take her that way. She motioned toward a small box on the dresser.
My eyes widened as I pulled out the toys. The dildo’s girth and bold red color had my pussy’s attention. And it was neither “ultra realistic” nor shaped like dolphins or goddesses. The former tend to gross me out, while the latter never fail to make me laugh out loud. I could not resist the urge to pleasure myself as I slid the silicone’s unadorned smoothness along my right thigh. Strapping on the black patent leather harness, I was thoroughly revved up, looking like I had a blood engorged Tomahawk missile affixed to my crotch, captain of my own battleship.
Tooled Up by Simon Pocklington available at Obsession Art
I boasted, “I’m going fuck you like no one ever has.”
“Yes, yes, fuck me hard, girl!” she urged.
I hammered her wet slit, as my own clit ached. The force of the back of the dildo on my pubic bone almost made me come; I was so hot for her. With each thrust, she moaned in a loud voice, as I talked dirty in her ear. When she came again, she was moaning and shouting my name at the top of her lungs.
I was turned on like never before. I stroked my cock hard, jamming it into my pubes for greater effect. I felt a keen sense that this new member belonged to me in an intense and intimate way. Somehow, this woman had stirred an aggressive, butch side of me I wasn’t aware I possessed. Katie, seeing my glowing machisma, leapt to her feet and began blowing me with vigor. Knees bent, she jammed most of my stiffness into her mouth, sliding along its length with increasingly quick thrusts, all the while fingering my hungry, wet lips. Like a Zen master, I pushed aside my worries about Katie’s bare flesh scraping on the hardwood floor. I was in “the zone.” Her worshipfulness swelled my clit so much I thought it might burst. I came with such force I lost my balance briefly before righting myself with the help of Katie’s broad shoulders.
I pushed my lover down on the bed, adorning her face with kisses, as her breathing gradually slowed. Next thing I knew, she rolled me onto my back and tore at the harness’s buckle. She wanted her chance at taking control. And I let her, without resistance. I have no problem taking turns! She strapped on the harness with the speed of a gunslinger. But instead of plunging directly into me, she stroked my box with such a delicious slowness, and on occasion, worked a digit or two into my slit. My back arched from the sexual heat emanating from my vulva. Sensing my readiness, she entered me, my pussy engulfing her crimson cock. We rocked the bed for a minute at most. My climax ripped through my body with the force of a typhoon.
I was still breathing heavy when I exclaimed, “Katie, how come we never got together before?!” But I think I already knew the answer. Things in this world happen on their own timetable, sometimes heralded by signs, sometimes not. From that moment, I could never look at the night sky without thinking of my Katie. She would blaze that brightly in my life.
Originally published June 2010