Lesbian Erotica
"First Time, Second Sex: Jayne's Story" a sex story by Peter Rosier
I started going out with the boys when I was fifteen. All my friends did it and I felt that I should, too. But while my friends seemed to be having a good time, none of the boys I dated ever struck that vital inner spark for me. Their clumsy feet, coarse hands, acne-pocked faces, stubble, and the habit of suddenly lunging and grabbing a handful of breast or buttock did not endear them to me.
I persevered for a while, thinking that it only meant that I had not found the right man. After all, I felt reasonably attractive. At five feet, six inches tall, with shoulder length blonde hair, blue eyes and a moderate to slim figure, I felt comfortable with myself. My breasts are about right (in my humble opinion, I certainly had no complaints), and if I have sometimes thought that my butt is a bit big for the rest of me, deep down I know that every woman has her insecurities.
By the time my 25th birthday rolled around, I finally had to accept that my experimenting with men was not going to work. I wasn't a virgin by then but I had never been pregnant. Not that I had anything against pregnant women -- oh no -- I admire their swollen bellies and engorged breasts. But these feelings are entirely sexual and in no way maternal.
My problem then became how to meet a like-minded soul-mate for what used to be called, so poetically, "Sapphic love." I could hardly say to any of my friends, "I really fancy you" (and, in any case, I didn't). I had seen those lonely heart adverts in the papers: "bi-curious female seeks same for friendship" etc, but those seemed sad to me. On the other hand, finding and visiting a gay and Lesbian club seemed even worse. I certainly did not want to publicize my virgin feelings, and my views of the women there were naively shaped by Hollywood films: I envisaged leather clad biker girls, all chains and body piercings, some more masculine than the men I've dated!
And that was how things were when I met Alicia. Lonely and frustrated, at least I had my work to rely on. I am a demonstrator, which means that I attend exhibitions, trade fairs, conferences and similar functions in order to hand out leaflets to any businessmen interested in whatever it is that my employer of the moment wants to sell. First, a half-day or one-day course on the product, and then off I go for a few days or a week, usually dressed in a uniform that resembles a cast-off flight attendant's outfit.
It's by no means easy work Standing from nine until six or longer with minimal breaks under headache-inducing fluorescent lights, in air conditioned halls with the atmosphere so dry it gives you a sore throat, in shoes that have to be smart and hurt like hell after an all day session, and smiling, smiling, smiling all the time and then going back to stay in some ratty hotel because the pay is not brilliant and nor are the perks.
One of the up-sides is that there are usually a number of us promoting the same product, so I can get to know the other girls and it's a little less lonely.
Alicia was at some of the same events, but she never mixed with the rest of us. Perhaps because of this, she became something of a subject for gossip. "Stuck-up" was one view of her, other labels were less flattering and often included advice on how not to get into a lift alone with her as, "She's a bit -- you know -- that way."
I never knew whether to believe the speculation or not. I figured that most of it was motivated by jealousy and sheer cattiness, as Alicia was, in fact, gorgeous. She stood at five feet, eleven inches, with a slim build, russet-red hair that fell to below her shoulders, green eyes, legs that seemed to never end, full breasts, and a small, but very pert, derriere.
I was at an exhibition in a large city about a hundred miles from London. I stayed there for just three days, trying to entice the punters in a new range of mobile phones. Alicia and I were coincidentally the only two working the stand at the exhibition.
During the first two days we didn't talk a great deal, but on the third day the exhibition was winding down. Alicia and I chatted a little, and she told me that she had travelled up with friends and stayed with them. She intended to return to London by train that night.
By the time the exhibition closed, we had all of the paperwork and forms we would need to fill in later, and we had collected our suitcases. It was well after seven in the evening.
I offered Alicia a lift since I was headed the same way. We were both shattered, it was as dark, wet and windy as only a November night in England can be, and we were glad to gain the sanctuary of my little car. As Alicia slid into her seat, the uniform skirt, already very short and clearly not made with someone of her leg length in mind, rode up even higher on her thighs, exposing smooth, taut flesh that inspired a lump to form in my throat. As Alicia closed her door, the interior car light went out. But the sideways glance, half amused, half quizzical, made me sure she had noticed my reaction. She left the skirt where it was.
The Hand and Leg by Kathy Slamen
Navigating the traffic was a disaster. The reports on the radio told us that the motorway was closed due to an accident in the bad weather, and the cars were backed up for several miles. I opted to take the main road instead, only to find that everyone else had done the same, and we crawled along past one dreary suburb after another, covering all of twenty miles in about two hours.
I was incredibly tired and I really couldn't see us getting to London at all at the rate we were moving. Alicia dozed off, and her head hung forward on her chest, her hair swinging across her face from the side like a curtain.
A travel inn appeared through the pouring rain. Built on sites outside the main town centres, these hotels provide comfortable, clean rooms for a reasonable rate, and there is always a bar and restaurant on site for meals and a drink.
I woke Alicia up.
"I can't go any further tonight. The traffic's too bad and I'm too tired. Shall we stay here instead?" I asked her, nodding out the window towards the inn.
"Oh, yes darling. Let's stop, I'm knackered, so I'm sure you are too. Hope they've got a room!"
They had. But when we checked, the receptionist pointed out that there were only double beds available, no twin beds, and was that all right? Frankly, I think if she had said they only had bales of hay to lie on, we would have taken it.
We dumped our cases in the room, and went over to the pub for a meal and a couple of drinks. The restaurant was warm and cosy and not very busy. After a glass of wine and a meal in front of us, we both felt a great deal better. Sitting opposite one another at the table, we talked about our experiences at different exhibitions, what we did when demonstration work was short (we both did office temping as a way of earning extra money) and a number of other small-talk subjects. Both of us steered away from anything too personal, although I did learn she was thirteen years older than me.
Over the course of dinner, Alicia's thighs pressed against mine from time to time, and I wondered... was it entirely by chance?
We walked back to the hotel room feeling a good deal more relaxed than we had before. The hard work of the previous three days and the frustrating car journey were fading into a rather mellow glow. Even the rain had stopped, and a hazy moon filtered its silver light through the clouds, illuminating the black tarmac of the parking lot. The air was still and smelled faintly of smoke that may have come from a coal fire somewhere.
The hotel was still. No one else was around as we climbed the stairs to our room. For two people who had a lot to say to one another over dinner, we were very quiet now. There seemed to be a sort of tension between us.
As we reached the room, Alicia said, "Jayne, I'm going to have a shower, I feel so sticky after all that work and travelling. Do you want to use the bathroom first?"
"No, after you," I said. "I'll have a shower but I want to just finish off this paperwork on the enquiries we had."
I took the papers out of my bag and spread them out on the small desk next to the bed. I was aware of Alicia as she collected bits and pieces from her suitcase and then went into the bathroom. I looked up and her head appeared round the door. "I won't be long. Sure you don't want to share?" She laughed, tossing that long red hair back and closing the door.
Did she mean that or was it just a joke between friends? If I misread her feelings, I would feel extremely stupid. But there was that gossip about her, and the brushing of our legs at dinner. My stomach was churning at the thought that she might be serious, but there was also delicious warmth spreading upwards.
What to wear to bed? Was the double bed going to be a lucky chance or a cruel joke?
I looked at and quickly rejected the warm but worn old nightdress in my suitcase. Warm, yes; Comfortable, yes; Sexy, not by a long shot!
I also had a black slip that just covered my butt cheeks and a black thong, which, if not exactly comfortable to sleep in, was entirely sexy.
I slipped off the uniform and put on my relatively respectable dressing gown over my panties and bra. The bathroom door opened and Alicia returned in a cloud of steam and perfume. She was wearing a gorgeous white towelling dressing gown that made mine seem poverty-stricken by comparison.
"All yours, darling; plenty of hot water." Alicia turned out her bedside light, slipped in between the sheets, and lay with her russet hair across the pillow while I collected my things for the shower.
As I entered the bathroom, I heard her sleepy voice say, "Darling Jayne, if I'm asleep when you get to bed, wake me up for a goodnight kiss. Don't forget."
I stood under the shower, my heart in even more of a turmoil than before. This was a definite come on. It had to be, didn't it? And, didn't I want it to be?
After I finished my shower, I changed into the thong and slip, feeling just as naked as if I hadn't bothered; perhaps more so because my intentions were going to be all too obvious. I froze, standing with my hand on the doorknob. I had no idea whether I should take the initiative and give her that kiss, or if she truly had been teasing.
The room was in semi-darkness. The desk lamp was glowing in the corner and the curtains were pulled tight. I walked across the room and opened them, letting the sodium glow from the parking lot lamps change Alicia's hair on the pillow from red to brown. She lay sound asleep, or so it appeared.
I slipped off the dressing gown, turned off the desk lamp and slid as quietly and unobtrusively as I could into the bed. What had she said? "Wake me up for a goodnight kiss." Dare I, could I?
One thing I did know was that I could not lie there like that all night. I was just too churned up inside to sleep, and what if she had meant what she said and, oh, I did so want it to be true.
I reached out a hand and gently touched her shoulder as she lay facing the other way, breathing deeply and evenly. Her skin was bare. Was she naked all over?
"Alicia, you wanted me to wake you for that goodnight kiss."
She stirred and slowly turned over to face me. Her eyes opened sleepily and then she smiled and put her arms around my neck.
"I'm so glad you remembered," and her lips met mine, first brushing gently against my mouth and then opening to ease her tongue inside. Her smooth, bare arms tightened against me and her mouth pressed more urgently, bruising my lips. I instinctively grasped her to me and with all fear of rejection fading, allowed my tongue to caress inside the moist and sweet tasting opening she was allowing me. If this was a goodnight kiss, it was unlike any other I had ever had.
It seemed to last for minutes, then she drew back and I could see in the faint light from the window her eyes looking deeply into mine.
"This is your first time with a woman, isn't it? I wasn't sure earlier."
"Yes," it came out more as a sigh than a word. I ran my hands down her bare body to her buttocks and held them gently; so she was as naked as I had imagined, and twice as smooth-skinned and gorgeous.
Her hand, meanwhile, caressed my shoulders and slid down to my waist over the slick satin sheen of my slip.
"A virgin, then, but not unwilling, are you? And dressed for the occasion, too! But bare underneath -- oh no -- a thong. How lovely, slipping into that tight little cleft between your cheeks and into your slit. Just as I want to."
And her fingers followed her words as she felt the warm wetness from within me.
We kissed again then, long and luxurious. If her lips were strawberries, firm-red and sweet tasting, her inquisitive tongue was the cream. She was everything I had hoped for from a woman and never dared to believe I would ever experience: smooth, sweet-perfumed and supple, her body arching and twisting against mine as her lips found my throbbing nipples through the fabric of the slip and her fingers sought to ease down the straps from my shoulders.
"Oh God, Alicia, just tear it off."
And her strong, firm hands clasped the top of the fabric and pulled down, tearing through the material and releasing not just my breasts, in a sweet agony of desire, but my whole being, liberated and free to the love of this wonderful creature.
As a woman, she knew what I wanted and, as a woman, I learned quickly what she wanted, too. Her lips sucked my nipples and her fingers caressed my buttocks and my slit, and I stroked and nuzzled her neck and let my other hand slide down past her large breasts with their erect nipples to her mount of Venus and found it bare. Smooth, cool and infinitely sensuous to my touch, her naked parts were another wonderful surprise.
Alicia disengaged her lips from my nipples long enough to whisper "shaved and waxed, darling, do you like it?" before burying her lips in the curly, dark blonde hair of my mount.
I lost any track of time. Her lips and fingers kissed, probed and squeezed between my legs and my buttocks. I kissed and sucked her softly rounded breasts and moved down to her labia, astringent and oh so moist with those juices that seemed the very essence of her sensuous being. I came and came, I had no idea of the number of orgasms I had but my entire being was on fire and so was hers.
Eventually we lay exhausted, cast up from the sea of love onto the shipwreck of our bed with the bedclothes tumbled and heaped on the floor. We lay side by side, slicked with sweat. My legs rested slightly apart with inner thighs a little bit bruised by Alicia's fervent lovemaking. Alicia lay wonderfully naked and I was in the remains of the slip, torn and tattered like it had been through a battle -- scarred but proudly worn.
Alicia held my left hand with her right as we lay just panting and trying to recover our senses. Suddenly, she propped herself up on her elbow and with the index finger of her left hand, traced a line from the base of my neck slowly down the length of my body, between my breasts (still so sore but beautifully so), down my belly to the curly wet hair of my mount, which she gently teased and stroked.
"Not such a virgin, now, darling." I heard in that soft voice and saw in that tender gaze all that I had ever wanted.
I don't know if it was her voice, her look or her touch, but I suddenly burst into tears and fell against her, hugging that loving body and burying my face in her shoulder and crying, crying, crying out all the frustration and longing I had felt for so long.
She held me, caressed me, kissed my neck and whispered words like "baby," "darling," "lover" and "it's alright" until I cried myself out and fell exhausted against her. We lay and cuddled together and finally slept until a grey dawn crept through the window and made two dim silhouettes out of the two lovers.
Alicia rose and quietly slipped into the bathroom, emerging later to fill the kettle and make tea. The sight of her slim body bent earnestly over this mundane task, her tight bottom protruding, those same buttocks I had stroked and kissed and whose cleft I had willingly explored with fingers and tongue the night before, gave me such a rush of love and tenderness that I had to pad softly over to her. She was engrossed in her task, and I surprise her by sliding my arms about her waist from behind and hugging her to me, feeling that same lithe little butt pressing deliciously against my pubic hair.
Alicia turned and held me tight as we kissed yet again. She took my hand and led me to the shower where we splashed and soaped together and the rivulets of warm water trickled into our mouths as we explored each other all over again.
The tea lay forgotten but we did make it to breakfast before they stopped serving.
This was six months ago and Alicia and I are still red-hot lovers. We don't live together but almost every evening, other commitments allowing, I visit her or she me, and we drink wine, catch up with the news of the day and, sooner or later, our eyes meet with that special look all lovers have, and we go hand in hand to the bedroom. Sometimes we don't actually make it that far.
Will it last? I don't know. I know that I care about her with a passion that exceeds all else and I am sure she feels the same about me. She is my first true love, I am not her first, but it doesn't really matter. Heaven is now and here for us... long may it last.
I must stop now. I see Alicia's car turning into my driveway; it's that time in the evening.
~
Enjoy our short stories? You'll love our erotic eBooks! Get yours today! OCEroticBooks.com
~
Copyright September 2005, Peter Rosier
Published with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.
Originally publishes September 2005 - "Sugar & Spice"