Lesbian Erotica
"Willow's Peak" a sex story by Charlotte Hale
The delicatessen was stifling, crammed with a ravenous lunch crowd awaiting tasty, slopped together sandwiches. As I salivated at the thought of my turkey club, I glanced around at the sweaty, work-weary faces of utility workers and landscapers. At the opposite counter I noticed a woman in line balancing a gallon of milk, package of tomatoes, and loaf of bread in her arms.
My breath seized at the sight of her. She was sumptuous; statuesque with gleaming eyes, scraggly golden hair and voluminous lips she kept licking. She looked familiar, and as I continued gawking, I suddenly blushed, realizing how I knew her.
By this time, her eyes had wandered over to me. She was expressionless as she studied my face; apparently she, too, was struck with the same sense of familiarity, but her recall wasn't as quick. Her eyes were reserved, as though protecting a deep secret, which she herself hadn't yet fully comprehended.
My mind drifted back fifteen years to the salty beach restaurant where we first met. My fellow sun-worshipper, Rick, and I ambled into Sid's Clam Shack one afternoon, our cheap flip-flops crunching on the sandy floor. I looked up at the menu on the wall, but my eyes were pulled to the willowy, sun-drenched Goddess who was working the cash register with a cool competence. Wild blond curls bounced off her shoulders as she licked her lips after each smile she offered to a bleary-eyed customer. Her long, bronzed arms flexed as she poked at the register keys. She had soulful blue eyes that belied her youth, a shiny vermilion mouth and a set of dimples that could've easily made me break a dozen laws.
I couldn't take my eyes off her as she scrambled around behind the counter, handling the cash flow, slinging sodas and impaling order slips for the kitchen on a long nail spiking up from a wooden block. I noticed her looking in our direction and assumed she was checking out Rick, a broad-shouldered cutie that a horny young girl would never peg for gay. When I mentioned this to Rick, he quipped, "Get a clue, honey. She's all over your ass." I kissed him on the cheek for his glorious revelation.
After stuttering through my order, I sat with Rick on the red pleather stools by the window. Every now and then I'd catch her glancing over despite the distraction of attending to the hungry, bustling, beach crowd. Needless to say, from that afternoon on, I spent more time at the counter of Sid's Clam Shack than I did on the beach. I bought so many damn clam rolls, ice creams and sodas, I just about put myself broke.
And then arrived the weekend of our discontent, the time that every beach queen dreads, Labor Day weekend. I had been hanging out at Sid's unusually late that Saturday night, just shooting the breeze with Willow. We'd gotten friendly over last month, chatting at the Clam Shack about whatever young women find scintillating. When she asked if I could give her a ride home, I was pleased to do the honor. The car conversation was an extension of our banal girl chat, arriving at the subject of unusual pets. She mentioned that she had a ferret, and I was intrigued, never having seen one in person.
"Wanna come in and meet Stewy?" she offered as I pulled my old Mercury into her driveway.
"Who's Stewy?" I asked, thinking I was going to be introduced to a retarded cousin or something.
"My ferret, duh," she teased.
I smiled, feeling dumber than I ever imagined possible. But I was twenty-two, single and up for any adventure, so I blew out a casual, "Sure," in an attempt to regain my former status of cool.
I watched Willow's long, voluptuous body ascend the front stairs, tanned silky legs extending from a tight, juicy ass stuffed into delightfully small shorts. I prayed this scene was going to lead exactly where my dirty mind was taking it. She turned on the lights as we walked into her dark house.
"My parents are at the vineyard for the weekend," she announced immediately, fluffing up her lemony curls from the back. My heart was pounding. I looked over at the pillow-strewn living room sofa and fought off the urge to throw her down on it and lick all over her appetizing body.
"Want something to drink?" she drawled, her movements increasingly sensual.
I want you, I wanted to reply, but that was way too cliché, so I settled for, "Sure, thanks."
She returned from the kitchen with two glasses of iced tea. "Stewy's up in my room," she declared, and I again had the extreme pleasure of walking behind her as she ascended another staircase.
Willow's room was warm and peachy, accented with a sunflower boarder and the summery-fresh smell of linens dried on the line. I looked at her bed and felt my crotch getting warm. I had to place the iced tea on her dresser, because between my nervously perspiring hand and the condensation on the glass, the amber liquid was seconds from slipping down and desecrating her peachy carpet.
"Isn't he cute," she demanded, taking the little polecat out of its cage. She held him up to her face, and as she smooched his ugly snout, I imagined it was my snout that she was smooching. I moved close to her to examine the creature, and caught a whiff of her tantalizing scent. A little perspiration, a little clam shack grease, a little citrus body spray and a whole lot of natural woman.
She put Stewy back in his home, and turned to me, her face nearly brushing mine. A tingle of excitement exhilarated my clit, and I backed away, unsure of myself. As if sensing my apprehension, she kissed me. Sweet, passive kisses at first. Her hands gently pressed my arms as she slowly guided me toward her bed. I couldn't determine what was throbbing more, my heart or my pussy, and I feared I might hyperventilate as her kisses grew harder, open mouthed, her lips pinching mine.
"You in college?" I blurted out for no logical reason.
"I just graduated high school," she announced through hot, breathy slurps, her tongue now flicking at mine.
"High school," I shouted, removing her arms and detaching her from my mouth. "How old are you?" I asked incredulously.
"Eighteen since March," she replied snottily, sweeping my hands off her and grabbing the back of my head for control.
I was about to demand her driver's license, but her ferocious tongue barricaded my words inside. She shoved me down on her bed and jumped on top of me, forcing a wheeze of air from my diaphragm. She grabbed my arms and slammed them on the mattress over my head to prevent any further uprising. Her tongue dove into my mouth and engaged mine in a duel to the death, alternating dives with a hungry sucking of my lips. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, run my heat-swollen hands down her damp back and squeeze that incredible ass of hers. But I couldn't; her arms were too strong. I felt the thin ridges of her tank top rubbing against my bare stomach as she grinded on me.
She licked and sucked my mouth like one of Sid's soupy ice cream cones, and her panting grew louder, stronger. I was wild, craving to touch her. She leaped up and sat on my stomach, and with crisscrossed arms tore off her tank top and whipped her satiny bra off and across the room in one grand gesture. I seized the opportunity and reached up to her pointy nipples. She groaned as I squeezed them and began caressing her own stomach. She dropped down on me again, nibbling my chin and sliding her tongue down my neck, between my breasts, swirling it around my stomach before it arrived at its final destination, my wet, pulsating velvet. Her tongue circled my lips, and streaked lightly across my clit. I gasped with pleasure, reeling from an ecstasy I'd only ever read about.
After convulsing from an explosive orgasm, I prepared to take the reigns and return the exquisite pleasure she'd given me. She, however, was not willing to relinquish control. She jumped up, threw off her shorts and climbed back on top of me. I could feel her wetness slide up my thigh to my hipbone as she kissed my ear, sighing heavily into it. She was riding me hard and her animal thrusts and escalating moans of pleasure got me lathered again. I grabbed hold of her ass and helped push her harder into me, forcing from her a deeper moan of pleasure. As she climaxed, she arched her back and whirled her messy hair around, her hips pumping away. My grip kept her steady as she flailed about, working into a monstrous orgasm.
Breathless and glistening from head to toe, she finally dropped down on me, gasping for air. She lay in my sticky arms until exhaustion and the whisper of a Maple tree lulled us into a cozy sleep.
We spent the next two days in a similar fashion, until Monday night rolled around, and it came time for me to gather myself up and get the hell out before her parents returned. I'd heard she'd quit Sid's that week to go to work for her father. I don't remember exactly why, but we never saw each other again.
By now we were both shamefully aware of our saucy history together as we exchanged naughty smirks across the deli. Her groceries were already bagged and paid for, but she lingered, pretending to scan the headlines on the news rack. My mouth was dry as I tapped the floor with my shoe, dying for this Goddamn turkey club to be made already. I fantasized that she and I would run off to the motel not far down the road and spend the rest of the afternoon entangled in an erotic free-for-all like we'd done that Labor Day weekend so long ago.
The damn sandwich, which by now I wasn't even hungry for, appeared in front of me on the counter. I snatched it and headed right for her. She saw me coming and put the Enquirer back on the rack. We were face to face when I realized that age had only enhanced her beauty and appeal.
"Hi," I said with a crack in my voice.
"Hi yourself," she breathed.
"Where do the summers go?" I sighed nostalgically.
"Sometimes I wish they were like they used to be," she smiled.
Our eyes locked for a brief moment. Something told me that my hot motel fantasy would likely remain just that. I didn't care. Just seeing that wickedly sexy dimpled smile again after all these years filled me with a warm sensuality I would enjoy for at least the rest of the week.
We walked out together, her hand touching mine as we both reached for the door. I watched her as she headed toward an SUV parked in front of the deli. My eyes followed her not-so-tight, but still juicy ass as it climbed up into the passenger side. I casually glanced inside the vehicle and noticed a sporty woman in the driver's seat, sunglasses resting atop an orange baseball cap, her arm stretched lazily across to the passenger side headrest. In the backseat sat a giggly boy and girl with sun-bleached hair and mini matched sets of Mommy's dimples gracing their tiny faces. My heart plunged into the abyss for a moment, but then I smiled, knowing that night, while we each lay in our beds too wired to sleep, we'd both be pleasuring ourselves to the same delicious memory.
Originally Published June 2006: Sexy, Strange & Strangely Sexy