Rachel Heath's Lesbian Erotica Page 3

  “Punishment she may exact,” I filled in as I exited Leaf’s jeep. I turned around to wave just before I got to my front door.

  RJ was in our living room, her feet in dark blue socks up on a footstool as she lay in a turquoise-colored armchair of fake-leather. It has rows of fake gold studs running down the front of each arm part of it. The big Sony TV was turned on to an old black and white movie (she loves AMC and TCM) and the remote was on the armchair by her hand.

  I said “hi” and we kissed. I pulled the Venetian blinds all the way down and closed. Her attention went back to the TV screen but she asked, “How did the date go?”

  “Well,” I replied ambiguously. I set my purse down. It’s an extra large purse of real leather, more expensive than I can really afford that I bought recently on a whim.

  “How well?”

  I put my hand on hers and she turned her palm around and squeezed my hand. She had a little, square-shaped ring on her pinky. She looked at me, a twinkle in her dark eyes.

  “Very well,” I said with a little smile, still teasing. I placed a hand affectionately on her shoulder and slid it down her arm.

  “Did you make love?” she asked bluntly as the credits rolled on the tube.

  “Yes,” I told her, lifting my eyebrows, the smiling more broadly.

  She shut off the TV and gave me her full attention. “Oh, aren’t you the naughty one?” she asked rhetorically. She smiled that wicked type of smile that never fails to turn me on.

  I giggled and shook my head of soft, dark brown curls.

  “Well, aren’t you?” she demanded, slipping into a firmer tone.

  Shrugging, I said, “I guess so.”

  “You’ve just told me so,” RJ said.

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  “So what do you need, naughty girl?” RJ continued. “What do you get for cheating on your butch, little tramp?” She gently pulled me toward her and we snuggled.

  “A spanking,” I answered just as RJ’s hand swept down my lower back, then lingered, pulling and squeezing, on my ass.

  “You certainly do,” RJ agreed.

  She pulled me across her lap. For a moment I savored the initial sensation of the humbled position, allowing myself to abandon all control. Then I did my part, lifting my skirt up, pulling my dark pantyhose and white silky panties down.

  Bare-bottomed, I lay passively across RJ’s lap. I made a conscious attempt to relax the muscles in my ass cheeks.

  “Good,” RJ complimented me. “I like your bottom when the cheeks are soft. They’re the best to swat.” Then she did just that, slapping me hard across the butt with the palm of her hand.

  I closed my eyes, completely giving myself over to her.

  Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! “You’re such a bad girl,” RJ told me. “So horny!”

  “I like being horny,” I told her.

  “I know you do,” she replied, slapping and slapping and slapping again. “You like cheating on your butch, too.” Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!

  “Ow!” I exclaimed. The swats were starting to really sting.

  “Cheating girlfriend,” RJ said in mock disgust. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!

  “Oh, RJ, it hurts!”

  “Does it?” Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!

  “I’m so sorry, RJ, so sorry! I can’t help myself, I just get horny!”

  “Yes, you sure do, you little two-timer! Horny and hot. Well, I’ll show you a different kind of hot.” Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!

  “Ow! Ouch! RJ, you’re hurting me,” I said, butt cheeks burning.

  “Good,” she replied. “A spanking isn’t supposed to tickle!” Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!

  “Remember to relax those cheeks, you naughty, horny little thing,” RJ chided.

  “Ouch! Yes,” I said and put an extra effort into softening up my bottom for the next series of swats. “Ow! Oh! Oh! Ow!”

  “And I’ve only just begun to spank,” RJ told me ominously.

  I peeked over my shoulder at my betrayed butch. “What do you mean by that?” I asked, anticipation fluttering in my stomach.

  “I mean that I want you to crawl over to that chest in our room and fetch the paddle!” she replied.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said in my most humble tone of voice. I slid off of her lap and onto the floor. Then I crawled to the bedroom that adjoined our den and got the wooden Bolo paddle out of the peeling, bright yellow chest of drawers. Still on my hands and knees but moving with as much grace and dispatch as possible under the circumstances, I returned to my betrayed butch and handed the instrument of my correction over to her.

  When I was once again draped across RJ’s lap, she said, “Your bottom is already very pink. Pink is such a good color on you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, I’m going to have to see if I can get your horny, two-timing little butt a deep dark red!” Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!

  The paddle had considerably more “bite” than the palm of RJ’s hand so I was soon fighting a rebellious impulse to wriggle under the sting of the harsh, wooden blows. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!

  “Ouch! Ow! Ouch! Oh, RJ! Oh!”

  “Things are heating up for you, aren’t they?” RJ asked fiendishly.

  “Yes! Ouch! Oh, yes!” I exclaimed.

  RJ’s paddle came down on my naked and burning butt cheeks ever more fast and furiously. Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! “Relax those cheeks,” she ordered. “You know the flesh must be relaxed if the swat is to sting as much as it should.”

  “Ow! I’m trying,” I told her defensively. It took all the concentration I could muster but I tried to relax my bottom after every violent crack of the paddle.

  “That’s better,” RJ said. “Soften up those pretty cheeks. You know how much I love to watch ‘em bounce.”

  I did indeed.

  Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!

  RJ put the paddle down and stopped swatting but did not stop giving her attention to my enflamed buttocks. She kneaded and pinched my reddened ass cheeks, pulling them apart and squeezing, as my wet cunt warmed and throbbed. She blew cool air over my well-punished ass and I shivered delightedly from the sensation. She let me go and I slid off her lap as she stood up and we kissed and made up in the longest, most loving and explosively orgasmic way possible.

  Chapter Five

  Feeling the Good Parts

  The two college juniors were in Consuela’s dorm room (Dolly commuted from home). Dolly sat on the simple uncomfortable wooden chair in front of Consuela’s desk. Consuela was sitting on her bed, legs stretched out in front of her, her slouching back propped up against a big fluffy pillow.

  Dolly was pretty with short, side-parted curly black hair, a small low-bridged nose, peaches-and-cream complexion, and large gray-green eyes spaced widely apart which easily gave her a startled look. She was dressed all in black: long-sleeved black blouse, black jeans, and black boots. She wore dark red rouge, black lipstick, heavy black eyeliner, and had a complex (fake) black tattoo around her wrist. Long, sloping ebony triangles dangled from both ears and a little red y-shape hung about the hollow of her neck. Dolly was also very plump: large, rounded arms as well as breasts, a couple of soft rolls around the belly, and thick legs

  Consuela was of average height and weight but had an eye-catching figure: large breasts, a small waist, and superior muscle definition. No bodybuilder, the regular weight lifting only showed on her upper body when she tensed an arm. Anyone (who wasn’t blind) could see her legs were shapely. Consuela’s hair was also black and it hung in a long, silky curtain past her shoulders. She had a full, sensuous mouth painted a brick red. She wore a deep red pullover sweater, a pleated thigh-high plaid skirt, stockings, and black high-heeled shoes. Consuela was blind and her eyes were half-open, exposing primarily the whites of them. The green irises were toward the top of the lids. She had thick mascara (or maybe thin false eyelashes) on both sets of lashes and a dusky shadow on the lids.

  The two had been ta
lking about classes and teachers and movies and sports and stuff when, during a conversational lull, Dolly asked, “Consuela, do you want to feel my face?”

  Consuela thought wryly: the old familiar question. But asked by Dolly this time. So Consuela gave the reply she had always planned to give when the time -- and the woman -- was right: “Why don’t you ask if I want to feel the good parts?”

  “What?” Dolly asked, startled.

  Consuela so wished she could have seen her expression.

  “Sighted people always ask me if I want to feel their faces but I can’t tell what they look like from feeling the face,” Consuela explained, slightly nervous but forging ahead despite it, “Maybe Helen Keller could. But I can’t.” Her voice lowered. “Really, blind people are like everybody else: they want to feel the good parts.”

  “What will Evangeline think?” Dolly asked.

  “We’re not going together anymore. She broke up with me but it wasn’t all that serious anyway.”

  Dolly thought for awhile. She really” did like Consuela, had liked her for a long time. She often fantasized about her when she masturbated. They knew each other well. And Dolly had no real “girlfriend” (she dated Evelyn occasionally but Evelyn dated other ladies and told Dolly she could too).

  “You already know I’m fat,” Dolly said hesitantly. She got up, then sat beside Consuela on the bed. She put her hand on the other woman’s.

  “Yes, I do!” Consuela replied, squeezing Dolly’s hand and grinning to display pearly straight white teeth (the end result of thousands of dollars in orthodontic work as her step-dad never failed to remind her).

  “Do you like feeling when... ?” Dolly’s voice trailed off.

  “There’s a lot to feel?” Consuela said, as her hand was traveling up Dolly’s clothed forearm, into the crook of her elbow. “Yes!” Consuela said. Her hand paused, then moved to Dolly’s breast, which was encased in a 36 D bra underneath her shirt. “You’ve got great tits,” Consuela said. “That I can tell by feel.” She pulled up -- just a bit -- on Dolly’s shirt, asking, “Is it OK?”

  “Yeah,” Dolly answered.

  Consuela’s hand found a soft, multi-layered, tummy. Consuela smiled as a soft excitement spread down her spine and, in no hurry, she explored the her friend’s sensuous fleshy folds.

  With Consuela’s palm still on her flesh, Dolly unbuttoned her shirt, then guided Consuela’s fingers to her cleavage where the clasp of her brassiere was. Consuela put two hands on it and her fingers deftly undid it. “This isn’t hard,” she told Dolly, “I put my own bra on every day.”

  Gently, very gently, Consuela squeezed Dolly’s breasts together, kissing along the cleavage. She found the ovals and knots of Dolly’s nipples and her heart surged with a fearful joy. She put her mouth around a nipple and, as she sucked, Consuela felt a warm pulse beat in her own pussy. Letting the breast out of her mouth, she squeezed both of Dolly’s nipples and turned her face upward.

  Dolly put a hand gently on the back of Consuela’s head, enjoying the feel of her thick, silky hair and pulling Consuela’s face close. The two women kissed on the mouth, for a wonderfully long time, Dolly running her tongue across Consuela’s front teeth and gums.

  Then Consuela pulled her shirt off, folded it and handed it to Dolly, saying, “Could you put this on the back of the chair?”

  “Sure.”

  Consuela wore no bra despite having grapefruit-sized tits. She didn’t need to because they were quite firm.

  “Do you like having your boobs played with?” Dolly asked, touching Consuela tentatively.

  “Yeah,” Consuela replied, “But it’s not where I’m most sensitive.”

  “Where’s that?” Dolly asked as she stroked and cupped and kissed Consuela’s generous breasts.

  “Hmmm... You’ll find out,” Consuela said teasingly as she ran her hand through Dolly’s hair and brought her head closer. They kissed again for a long, long time, pulled apart, kissed each other’s faces wetly, then kissed yet again for another very long beautiful exciting time on the mouth. Consuela’s hand took a long, slow pull on Dolly’s breast. Dolly’s nipples stung, painfully yet pleasurably, and her hot pussy moistened. She guided Consuela’s fingers to her nipple and she felt a wave of yearning rise in her as Consuela squeezed it, then put her mouth over the tit and sucked, hard and greedily.

  “Ohhh,” Dolly moaned. She was starting to sweat, pinpricks of moisture flowed from her armpits. She put a hand on her crotch, and rubbed her pussy through her black jeans. Slowly. But with a firm pressure. She pulled her pants off. Then she put her hand on Consuela’s leg, relishing the sensation of tight muscle through hose. Her hand traveled upward, under Consuela’s skirt, and she touched Consuela’s firm bottom.

  Consuela removed her shoes (she couldn’t just kick them off since they had straps which she had to unbuckle). She pulled her skirt up and allowed Dolly to pull off her pantyhose; then she unhooked her skirt and handed it to Dolly with another request to fold it over her chair.

  Now both naked, the women hugged and kissed and joyfully fondled each other.

  “That’s it!” Consuela exclaimed.

  “What?” Dolly asked.

  “The place where I’m most sensitive. Your hand is right on it,” Consuela informed her.

  “You mean your shoulder blade or the small of your back?”

  “The small of my back. I just love having that place stroked. Not hard--lightly, yeah, like you are now. Yeah.” Consuela was rocking, slowly but enthusiastically, on Dolly’s thigh. Dolly felt Consuela’s warm womanjuice on her leg--she knew Consuela was excited and would be the one to come first. Consuela’s breath was hot and heavy on Dolly’s neck. Dolly cupped Consuela’s ass cheek with one hand and gently stroked and stroked and stroked the area where the spine dips before the buttocks rise.

  “Could you put your fingers inside me?” Consuela asked, her voice husky with passion. Dolly noticed that there were tears blurring Carmen’s sightless, unfocused green eyes.

  The young ladies rolled over so they were side by side and Dolly slid the hand which had been cupping Consuela’s buttocks to her front. Two fingers slid in as easy as pie, heated by Consuela’s slippery slit.

  “Thank you,” Consuela rasped, breathing shallowly. Two tears ran down her cheeks. “Keep stroking my back, please,” she added desperately.

  Dolly felt the walls of Consuela’s vagina squeezing her fingers, pushing down on them, then pulling up.

  “Dolly... Ahhhh! Ahhh-ahhh!” Consuela cried as she came, her fingernails digging hard into Dolly’s back, her lovely face distorted by the spasm of ecstasy. “Ahhhhh!”

  After a moment, Consuela said, apologetically, “Dolly?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I hate to break the mood, Dolly... but I have to go to the bathroom.... I’m not into golden showers,” she added with a giggle.

  Dolly guffawed. “Neither am I.”

  Consuela reached for the cane which she had left in a narrow, tall circular container against the wall by the foot of her bed. She “unbunched” the cane and tap-swept her way to the closet where she took out a plum-colored housecoat. She wrapped and buttoned it around herself.

  “Oh, they’re so cute!” Dolly exclaimed when she saw Consuela’s slippers: they had little duck’s heads sprouting on their fronts.

  “Be back soon,” Consuela said.

  As soon as Consuela closed the door behind her, Dolly began masturbating. She put her palm against the top of her pussy and rubbed up and down while her hips moved back and forth and then, without meaning to, she came: “Ohhhh!”

  Oh well, she thought, she was horny enough to come again. Consuela would not be disappointed. Dolly felt a wonderful exhilaration and she rolled on the bed and shimmied with anticipation.

  As Dolly was rubbing her own breasts, the door opened and Consuela caned her way in. She kicked off her slippers, then tap-swept her way to Dolly. With her robe still on and the cane still in her hand, she asked in a semi
-parental voice, “Dolly, did you play with yourself while I was gone?”

  “Yeah,” the other woman replied easily.

  “You horny thing,” Consuela teased.

  Dolly laughed.

  Consuela asked, “Do you want to take my housecoat off?”

  “Sure,” Dolly replied. She stood up and unbuttoned Consuela’s robe, then untied its belt. Falling open, it exposed a taut, curvaceous, beautiful body with the sweat of pleasure still gleaming upon it. Consuela went back to the closet where she hung the robe up--and gave Dolly an exciting view of her wonderfully defined legs as well as her wide hips and tight buns. Dolly rhythmically tightened and untightened her pussy walls and fondled her own heavy breasts.

  “Consuela, do you like to eat pussy?”

  “Sure. And you like to get eaten.”

  “How’d you ever guess?” Dolly said. She lay on her back, knees up and spread. The blind woman touched her ankles and followed her plump legs up to the pussy.

  “Oh, you smell nice,” Consuela said.

  “Thanks.”

  “You smell like a woman,” Consuela said with true admiration. She commenced tasting and soon got a surprise--her tongue found the labyris on Dolly’s labia hood. She liked Dolly’s odor but she would have liked it just as much had it been heavier.

  “Did you have your period over a week ago?” Consuela asked.

  “Uh... yes. How’d you guess?”

  “Ladies usually have a lighter scent at this time of the month.”

  “Yeah,” Dolly replied, “Sometimes I can tell that too when I’m going down on someone.”

  Consuela’s tongue slid up and down the flowery folds of Dolly’s pussy, from the very top of Dolly’s clitoral hood to the perineum. Dolly was dripping warmly and rolling her pelvis around Consuela’s face; she thought the lady liked it. Consuela knew that she liked smelling and tasting Dolly and having her plump soft inner thighs caressing her face.

  Dolly moaned. Consuela kept licking and licking and tasting and smelling the inner lips and rolling the furry flesh of the outer lips. Her tongue darted into Dolly’s rich, spicy love slit.