Archive for the 'Lesbian Stories' Category
“Yep,” the man, said, still panting, still pounding in and out of her. “And now it’s my turn. You hear that, bitch? I’m gonna shoot my cum in your nasty little pussy now.”
“Ohhhh,” Robin groaned, well beyond words now. She was ready to cum herself,could feel the waves starting even now, and if she could do it at the same time the man shot his cum inside of her, it would be ecstasy.
“Do it to her,” the woman said, still holding Robin by the hair, but more gently now. “Cum in the bitch! Fill her up!”
“Yesssss!” Robin managed to grunt out. “Fill me up! I’m sooooo close!”
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read comments (0)“It’s okay,” the woman said now, leaning closer, so her lips were against Robin’s ear. “I know what it’s like. We don’t like to talk about such things. But when we experience them, it’s something special… isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Robin said, confused, horny, unsure of herself. “I mean… uh no.Uh… I mean, I have to go now.” She tried to twist out of the woman’s arms but they held fast, pinning her even tighter against her body.
“Don’t leave,” the woman told her, her voice turning hard again. “You didn’t seem to mind rubbing your body against my husband. Why should you mind rubbing it against me?”
“Your… your… your husband?” she stammered, feeling a bolt of adrenaline shoot through her. Was that was this was about? Was all of this touchy-feely a prelude to taking her out in the parking lot to kick her ass?
“My husband,” she confirmed, her hands dipping down now to touch Robin’s thighs. “He probably mentioned to you that we were in town on business.”
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Robin White’s evening was definitely starting to look up now. Until the handsome stranger had bought her that first drink at 10:30, she had been starting to think she was losing her touch. It was Saturday night, the party night, on a warm summer’s evening and, for the first time in nearly a year now, no one, not a single male, had asked her to accompany him to the Faraway Club for a night of drinking, dancing, and, as was well known among the public servants of Marshall County, fornication after it was all over.Not one paramedic, EMT, firefighter, cop, or ER tech had wanted to experience her charms that night, this despite her well-earned reputation as the woman who willingly gave it up for the price of a night out. What was wrong with her? Was she losing her looks? Her charms? Had they all experienced her enough now that they didn’t want her anymore? She had fretted over these questions for most of the previous week, stressing more about her lack of a date than she ever had about her unpaid bills, or her deteriorating relationship with her roommate, or any of the other hundred and five things she should have been worried about.
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Lenya pressed her lips against the soft yellow down of Marte’s pussy.More like a duckling, she thought, than a little pussy-kitten. It smelled of new-born life like a freshly hatched duckling.
Lenya loved kissing her little duckling, nuzzling up next to it,rubbing her nose and lips in it.
“Damn, girl, are you going to eat it or play with it?” Marte asked impatiently.
That was the problem with loving these hard-body aggressive types.Lenya loved watching Marte on the rugby field, dominating all her opponents with ease even though they outweighed her two to one in some cases. Dancing triumphantly over their fallen vanquished bodies. But the drive that gave her her commanding will to win seemed to make her overly goal oriented in other pursuits as well.
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I was visiting Montreal, Canada for the first time in a long time and decided to do some window shopping on St. Catharine Street,before I headed back to the hotel. Walking and looking in the store windows I saw this quaint little shop with some Summer prints in the window. Now usually I can’t buy anything off the rack because it always needs to be let out in the bust, so I usually wear just tops and pants, but I decided to give it a try.
Opening the door I was greeted by a little bell announcing my arrival and welcomed by a striking lady, who I assumed to be the owner, while another lady sat in a chair nearby. With a smile she welcomed me in French, and I replied in English that I was interested in the prints in the window.
Linda stared at her open closet like a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching semi, sensing the impending doom but so paralyzed with fear it couldn’t move out of harm’s way. She lost track of just how long she’d been standing there in her bra and panties, sighing in frustration, wondering what the hell she was going to wear, while asking herself the same question over and over again. How had she ever been talked into going on a blind date?
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Linda thought about the events of the last week. She figured if she retraced her steps enough times she could pinpoint her exact moment of weakness, the moment she had caved, the moment she had lost all common sense. Most of the time she considered herself a reasonable, intelligent woman. The people at the firm where she worked sure thought so. But last week had seen a major lapse of judgment on her part, and the trouble began when Jaqui, one of the investment associates,began talking about her friend Alex. It had been a nonstop barrage of Alex-this and Alex-that which started at lunch on Monday and never let up.
The sun streamed through the tall, thick panes of glass to fall on half a dozen canvases in varying stages of completion. The angle of the late afternoon light set a diffuse golden tone in the high-ceilinged room that made the paint colors deeper and more
intense. Haley glanced at her delicate watch, and then gave a final word of instruction to the young man standing before her.
“All right class, that will be it for the day. Good work everyone. Remember, the studio will be open for after-hours work on
Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays beginning next week and running until the start of the exhibition.”
It was mid-fall in New Hampshire, a beautiful time of year when the trees were just starting to reach peak foliage color. Haley
taught most of the advanced fine arts courses at the small, exclusive college nestled in the White Mountains. She was young for a professor, only 29, but had already achieved a measure of success in a few small galleries, and had recently been invited to join the faculty after receiving an advanced degree from a renowned school in Paris.
Sara walked into the hotel bar. There were still a lot of delegates milling around, but at first she didn’t think there was anyone she knew. Oh well, no drink then, just straight to bed. She was actually leaving the room when she bumped into Beth, who looked tired, but managed a smile at Sara.
“Hi, how’s it going?” Beth asked. Sara was surprised Beth had even recognised that Sara was on the bid team. Beth ran the whole show, and Sara was just a summer intern filling in time before her first year at university. But then it was typical of Beth to know that kind of detail. She was an impressive lady, and all the more so because despite her success in business she seemed, so far as Sara was able to tell, to be a decent person too. And pretty, and a husband and two kids. At 42 Beth seemed to have it all. Sara sighed. One day.
The sun streamed through the tall, thick panes of glass to fall on half a dozen canvases in varying stages of completion. The angle of the late afternoon light set a diffuse golden tone in the high-ceilinged room that made the paint colors deeper and more intense. Chase glanced at her delicate watch, and then gave a final word of instruction to the young man standing before her.
“All right class, that will be it for the day. Good work everyone. Remember, the studio will be open for after-hours work on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays beginning next week and running until the start of the exhibition.”
It was mid-fall in New Hampshire, a beautiful time of year when the trees were just starting to reach peak foliage color. Chase
taught most of the advanced fine arts courses at the small, exclusive college nestled in the White Mountains. She was young for a professor, only 29, but had already achieved a measure of success in a few small galleries, and had recently been invited to join the faculty after receiving an advanced degree from a renowned school in Paris.