Jeanne came obediently, but still teased with her head held high and her mouth curved in a secret smile that said she was doing Rémi a favor by walking across the room to her. The chain wriggled against her skin as she moved.
“Nice jewelry.” Rémi gripped the chain where it caressed Jeanne’s belly, and tugged.
The woman gasped in pain, even as her ass rolled and turned up asking for more.
“I’m going to change your script a little,” Rémi said, meeting Dez’s eyes over the woman’s head. She wanted that ass. Dez nodded and backed up to sit in a nearby armchair, a pretty floral thing that smelled faintly of perfume, and wait. Rémi was running this show.
She kissed Jeanne, sucked her plum purple mouth, and turned the woman’s ass for Dez to admire. When Rémi bent Jeanne just a little, Dez licked her lips at the glistening pink slit and the darker pucker of her asshole that Rémi fingered and teased, her gloves wet with lube.
Rémi worked the woman, caressing and kissing her, tugging on the
Y
-chain until Jeanne gasped and the tips of her breasts became swollen and distended. Her thighs gleamed wet with cunt juice. Rémi turned her again, showed the woman’s tits to
Dez as she squeezed them from the back, then ran her gloved hands down Jeanne’s belly and toward the swollen clit while Jeanne’s eyelashes beat uncontrollably and her mouth fell open to gulp more air.
Dez eased back in the chair and undid the buttons of her jeans. She slid the pants down and over her ass as she watched, her pussy getting juicer, tightening, anticipating the mouth that would surely lick it wet then dry after all this buildup. Her tits throbbed with a sweet pain under the little tank top.
Rémi spread Jeanne’s legs and pushed her slightly forward toward Dez, as if Jeanne was asking her for a light or something equally incendiary. Jeanne’s face changed when Rémi started to fuck her. She seemed to stretch, elongating herself to accommodate Rémi’s fingers and her desire, her face becoming taut and hard, needful. Low, long sounds left her mouth. Jeanne leaned forward, bracing herself on Dez’s chair. Rémi slowed the pace of her fucking.
“Make my friend come,” said Rémi. “At least twice. She’s very particular. No hands, and don’t put your tongue in her pussy.” She flicked Jeanne’s clit and the woman jumped, almost falling to her knees in front of Dez. “No matter what, don’t stop. Understand?” When Jeanne nodded, her body quivering and damp with sweat, Rémi reached into her pocket for a pack of dental dams and took one out. “Use this.”
Jeanne reached blindly for Dez’s naked pussy, opening her mouth wide for it despite the awkward angle of the jeans rucked up at Dez’s knees. Even through the barrier of the plastic, her tongue was heaven to Dez. Her heated mouth, the flat of Jeanne’s tongue against Dez’s shaved pussy and the hot suction on Dez’s clit were all heaven as Jeanne anchored her hands on her hips, her head bobbing with each yawn and snap of her mouth. Dez loved the hungry noises the other woman made in her throat. They made her pussy feel wanted, made it open up and salivate, eager to be devoured. She pressed Jeanne’s head deeper into her pussy. The thick hair tickled her palms as she guided the skilled mouth to exactly where it needed to be.
Jeanne knew what she was doing. Even with Rémi working her pussy hard from the back, fucking her with a lovely liquid sound, she focused on the task at hand. She damn near swallowed Dez’s clit. The come snuck up on her, lifting up her hips and carrying her away on a swift tide of sensation that left her breathless and shaking, but still wanting more.
Beyond the rising peach curve and cleft of the woman’s ass, Rémi fucked her with gloved fingers, plunging in deep with her face a hard mask of concentration and her lips skinned back against her teeth in a feral grin. Her breath whistled with each exhalation. As Dez shuddered in the throes of her first come, Rémi pulled her fingers from the sticky sheath of Jeanne’s pussy and slapped her hard. The woman jumped, bumping her mouth hard against Dez’s clit.
“Shit!” The woman’s muffled cry of surprise sent a jolt of electric heat slamming between Dez’s thighs. She moaned and widened her thighs as far as the jeans would let her.
Rémi slapped her again and again, the sounds thick and hot in the room, mingling with the slurp of Jeanne’s mouth on Dez’s pussy, her groans, and the steady heavy breath whistling through Rémi’s teeth. She slapped her asscheeks, her thighs and the tender flesh between them. Jeanne gasped and jerked, eating Dez’s pussy in earnest as the pain spread through her body. Dez knew exactly how she felt, could feel the heat in her
own thighs, the sweet clench of her pussy at that twin-edged pain. A fiery wave rolled through her. She threw her head back and held on. This one was going to be good.
Rémi started to fuck their little playmate again. Jeanne’s tongue flew over Dez’s clit, licking the tender bundle of nerves harder and faster. Through the haze of pleasure Dez looked up at Rémi. Her friend nodded. They pulled off Jeanne’s clamps at the same time. The woman screamed and her knees buckled, but Rémi held her up. Jeanne kept at Dez’s clit, licking and sucking until Dez’s wave crested and she bucked against Jeanne’s mouth, holding her head steady while Dez’s pussy fisted, flooding come against the plastic barrier of the dental dam and on the pretty floral chair.
“Fuck yes!” Dez groaned.
Jeanne’s head hung low as she panted between Dez’s thighs. “Damn.”
They weren’t done yet. At a signal from Rémi, Dez stood up despite her wobbly knees and moved aside so that her friend could take her place in the chair.
“Now, if memory serves, you mentioned something at the beginning of this evening about my pussy and your mouth.” Rémi tugged down her zipper, showing off her thick, curling bush. “Come. I’m ready.”
BINGO, BABY
Radclyffe
“Honey, let’s go in drag tonight.”
I looked up from the newspaper and tried to suppress a grin. Shelby is a femme. Not ultraultrafemme—no superlong nails or heavy-duty makeup, but she doesn’t leave the house without eyeliner, either. Plus, she’s small. Okay,
petite.
Her head comes to my chest. But she’s perfectly built—every part of her—from her pert, high breasts to her nicely rounded, squeezable ass. But no one, nohow, would take her for a guy. Not even with a twelve-inch dick. “Sure, baby, but we only brought one dick.”
It’s tough packing toys when you travel, and the security people at the airport in Provincetown check
everything.
But then I guess they’ve
seen
everything, too, and there’s
no way I was going on vacation without my equipment. Still, I couldn’t bring a complete complement either, so we both wouldn’t be able to dress in full gear.
Shel’s lush pink lips parted, her tongue peeked out as she ran it lightly over the velvet surface, and my mind turned to oatmeal. “We only
need
one. For me.”
I got hold of myself and dragged my thoughts away from what she could do with that tongue. “Huh? What am
I
going to wear, then?”
“This,” she replied sweetly as she held up a tiny swatch of leather.
I paled. “That’s a skirt.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s yours.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I can’t wear
that.
” I started to sweat. I started to look for the exit. I was in boxers and nothing else. I couldn’t run.
“You might be taller, but your hips aren’t that much bigger than mine. It will just be a little short.”
“A
little?
” God help me, I actually squeaked. Just the thought of the skirt was making my clit shrink. “That won’t even cover my crotch!”
“This will.”
She held up a black satin thong, and my clit fell clean off.
“Oh no—no fucking way.”
“Please, honey?”
Not fair. Not fair, not fair, not fair.
“Then we’ll
both
be in drag,” Shel pointed out, twirling the thong around her index finger. “It
is
drag bingo, after all.”
Ordinarily, the sight of Shelby within twenty feet of a thong makes me want to start at her toes and lick my way to the top of her head, but today all I could think about was how much that tiny triangle
didn’t
cover. Especially on me.
“We don’t have any drag clothes that will fit you. My jackets are all too big.” I tried a different tack. Shel was very particular about her clothes.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage something.” She leaned over the sofa, cupped my crotch, and resurrected my clit as she squeezed. “Didn’t fall off, now, did it?”
“Ha ha,” I muttered as she stuck her warm tongue in my mouth. It was a few minutes before I thought about much of anything except how clever her fingers were. When she stopped doing that wonderful up and down, round and round thing she was doing with her thumb, I groaned in protest. “Hey—what—?”
“Later, honey.” She gave me another little tug and kissed the tip of my nose. My clit gave a little jump right back. “I have to get dressed. And so do you.”
That effectively killed my healthy, happy hard-on once and for all.
I dawdled. I balked. I downright stonewalled. Okay, okay—I mostly sulked. I showered but then I refused to get dressed. Shelby ignored me as I sat on the foot of the bed staring at the floor, naked, immobile—a pathetic rendition of the
Thinker
facing a firing squad.
“What do you think?” Shel asked softly.
I turned my head and found myself eye to eye with a pair of black silk boxers that tented out suggestively over the gently bobbing dick inside. Now I have to tell you, I think wearing a dick is about the sexiest feeling I’ve ever had—except, of course, fucking Shelby with one. But I’ve never particularly been interested in being on the receiving end. Fortunately,
Shelby has never complained. So I’d never seen her strapped before. I couldn’t take my eyes off her smooth, tanned belly encircled by the broad waistband of the boxers and the jutting prominence below. She is such a girl in every way, and I wouldn’t have believed how hot she’d look with all that girl power dancing inches from my face.
“Jesus,” I breathed in awe.
She made a little sound like a contented purr. And then she reached down and wrapped her dainty fist around the silk-sheathed cock and gave it a little shake. My mouth dropped open and my clit stood at attention.
“Does it always make you horny right away when you put it on?” she asked a little dreamily.
“Usually, yeah,” I muttered, watching her hand action speed up a little bit. “Baby?”
“Hmm?”
“If you want to jerk off with that, come a little closer and I’ll help.”
“Oh no.” She laughed knowingly, giving the dick one final tug before letting go. “You just want to distract me so we’ll miss bingo.”
“That was the furthest thing from my mind,” I protested. It was true, too. In that moment, all I could think about was holding on to her ass and putting her dick in my mouth.
In my mouth? Jesus Christ. What’s happening to me?
“Come on, honey. Stand up. Let me dress you.”
My brain was still a bit addled, and without thinking, I complied. The next thing I knew, I was wearing a sleeveless mesh top that was so tight my nipples nearly protruded through the tiny holes, the black satin thong that barely kept my clit covered, and the leather skirt that hit right at the bottom of my buttcheeks. I don’t know why she bothered to put me into clothes at all. I took one look in the mirror and almost fainted.
“I can’t go out like this.”
“Sure you can. I promise your butch credentials will not be revoked.”
I turned, ready to take a stand, and got a good look at her as she buckled a thin black belt around her waist. She’d gone for the simple
GQ
look, and it worked perfectly on her. She wore an open-collared black silk shirt tucked into tailored black trousers with dress shoes and the belt. She’d slicked back her short blonde hair and wore no makeup. She resembled an androgynous Calvin Klein model, one of the ones that I always feel a little bit guilty about staring at. I glanced down. She looked like a handsome young man with a very substantial hard-on.
Oh baby.
“You gonna walk around town like that?” I felt myself getting wet. This was so confusing.
“Why not?” She gave her hips a tiny bump. “You do.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s different.”
She stepped closer, cupped my jaw, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss me. When she leaned against me, I felt the firm press of her dick against my thigh. Now I was wet
and
hard. I put my hands on her waist and moved to turn her toward the bed. To my astonishment, she pushed me gently away.
“Uh-uh. No touching.”
“Oh, come on, baby. Let’s just stay home.”
“Nope.” She slid a slim leather wallet into her back pocket and buttoned it. Then she held out her hand and gave me that smile that I’ve never been able to resist. “Come on, honey. Time to go to drag bingo.”
We stood in line along with half the population of Provincetown to get through the white picket fence and onto the grass-covered front lawn of the Unitarian Universalist Church, where dozens of metal folding tables had been set up for one of the highlights of Carnival week. Drag bingo. The space was crowded with tourists and townspeople, drag queens, and here and there, a drag king. It was a party atmosphere, and everyone was taking pictures of everyone else. We wended our way toward a free table, carrying our fat color markers and our stack of bingo cards.
I would have felt self-conscious in my less-than-flattering outfit, except no one was paying any attention to me. The drag queens were so flamboyant, so outrageously wonderful, that all eyes were on them. Except for those of the dykes, who were unabashedly eyeing my girlfriend. I had a wholly unfamiliar urge to start scratching eyes out.
Scratching eyes out? Who the hell am I?
“Can’t you strap that thing down?” I said in an irritated whisper after the third time I spied some sexy femme staring at Shelby’s crotch.