Girl Fever (10 page)

Back to my routine: with tools in hand, I snuggle between the sheets, propped up by pillows, with just enough light to be able to read by, yet keeping the ambiance of the room sexy and inviting.

I begin with a story I've read a dozen times before—nothing too exciting, something predictable, but just enough to get me going. As I reach the first sex scene, I slowly nudge the vibrator between my pussy lips, which are already tingling with anticipation. I don't turn it on yet though—just the sensation of the cold, hard cylinder against my clit gets me excited. As the story unfolds, the details start having an effect on me—the strong hands on the girl's ass, the bulge of the cock seen through the jeans. I can feel it all as if I were part of the story. I'm in harmony with the main character—my excitement
builds along with hers. As she submits to her partner's commands, I lazily stroke my breasts beneath the sheet, flicking each nipple to attention then gradually pinching and pulling them until I'm so hot, I have to kick the covers off and let the cool air travel over my naked body. The introduction of cool air against hot skin only increases my arousal, and finally, I turn on my vibrator to the lowest setting. The first burst of electricity shocks my clit, and I gasp with the suddenness of it.

Today, however, I will not be able to indulge myself at leisure. I have an early morning appointment that could not be avoided, so instead of languishing in pre-orgasmic bliss, I have to step up the pace. There will be no teasing, no holding back, no slow buildups.

Today I choose a story that I would normally save until much later in my routine, but I don't have time to mess around. I turn my vibrator on almost to full blast and flip to the middle of the story, reading at a furious pace. I am all too familiar with the feeling of sweet, delicious humiliation as the character in the story gets her ass spanked, then probed. The scene plays out quickly as my eyes speed past the paragraphs. I swiftly read the words that describe her emotional conflict between humiliation and arousal. I squeeze my legs together to create more friction between the vibrator and my clit as my hand travels downward to stroke my clean-shaven pussy. A few flexes of my thigh muscles along with some pressure from my fingertips, and I start to climax as our girl is getting fucked and spanked at the same time. I
hold the vibrator in place with the palm of my hand, letting the tip of my middle finger squeeze its way in between my lips and dart just inside the opening until my orgasm has subsided.

I look at the clock. I have a few more minutes so I decide to go again, but I'll have to make it quick. This time I choose a story about two butches and a femme. There is something so hot about threesomes that usually I can't get through an entire story before losing it, and that's exactly what I need right now.

My eyes dart over the words while my vibrator does its job on my pussy. I squeeze my legs together as I live vicariously through the story's characters, imagining that I'm the girl: my mouth around some butch's hard cock while the other butch fucks me from behind. I thrust my hips upward, desperately grinding my clit against the vibrator. I make myself continue reading the story although I don't need the stimulation anymore; my clit is already starting to contract. I force myself to hold off for a few seconds until the femme in the story starts to come, and then I let go with a scream. I drop the book and press the vibrator harder into my pussy with one hand, while plunging two fingers inside with the other. I clamp down, feeling the contractions in my pussy over and over until finally the pulsing in my clit dies down.

Normally I would continue to lie in bed and stroke my pussy for several more moments, and maybe even go again, but today isn't a day for routines.

 

 

 

 

 

I
looked at her handsome face and wanted to smash it.

“How could you?” I asked in a harsh whisper. “You butch bastard.”

“Whoa!” She recoiled from my anger. “You said you didn't want the job.”

“Well, I sure as hell didn't want you to get it!”

There's a lot of baggage between Willie and me. She'd dumped me a while back and taken off with my friend, Reese. Then, six months ago, she'd shown up at Mackie Brothers working in my department. We'd made some peace, as people do who have to work together, but this—getting the supervisory position that would make her my boss—well, it was treason.

“Why?” she asked, eyes keenly interested in my anger.

“You're just a snake, and you always will be.” I turned back to the line.

“Come on, Saffron, give me a break. I need the money. That truck I'm driving is a pig, you know that.”

“You don't have to drive that truck, Will. I told you before you bought it that it was gonna break you.”

She shrugged and grinned that adorable butch grin that she knew melted me. It wasn't going to work. This time.

“Just get out of my face. I am so pissed at you. I may have to look for another job.”

The lunch bell sounded and her smile drooped. “You wouldn't do that, would you?” she asked in a low, urgent voice. “Tell me you're not gonna do that, Saff.”

I locked down the oven used to harden the epoxy we worked on then looked at her. I saw a weird pain in her face, something I'd never seen there before. “Will?”

“Saffron, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About things.”

“So, talk.” I started toward the lunchroom.

“Let's go out to the truck,” she suggested.

“I don't know…”

“Please?” She hitched her heavy work pants and shuffled her booted feet.

I sighed, never able to resist her when she was being shy. I motioned for her to lead the way.

Outside the sky was overcast and I knew it'd be raining soon. I breathed deeply of the grayness as we
traversed the big back parking lot. Fresh air is fresh air and after a morning spent in the hot confines of the factory, it felt mighty damned good. Willie strode next to me with her usual swagger and I could tell she was enjoying being outside too.

“Damn, Will,” I muttered as we paused next to her black Dodge, a ton and a half, with bright chrome and oversized Tiger-paw tires. I ran my hand over the gleaming front grille and shook my head. I spied her childlike grin of pride. Will and her toys.

“I'd sell it in a heartbeat, if you wanted me to,” she said quietly.

Had I heard her right?

“Okay, what's going on?” I folded my arms across my chest and leaned against the truck. “Talk to me.”

“Inside.” Her nod indicated the high truck cab.

We sat in silence for a moment and then I heard her sigh my name. I sought her eyes and saw such pained love there that it made my heart ache. Her lips found mine, her tongue teasing, flicking, penetrating deeply. The caresses tickled, aroused; I felt dizzy yet the kisses continued. Heat grew inside me and when she pulled me across the seat, closer, to gaze at me with darkening eyes, I swooned into an intense ocean of want, of need.

I moaned as her lips traveled lower and teased the swell of my breasts. My voice seemed to excite her and she jerked up the front of my shirt so she could tug at my bra with her teeth. She looked up at me, mouth wrapped around white lace, and the desire in her gaze
brought me to the brink of orgasm. I hadn't realized how much I'd been wanting her until that moment. She twisted my bra and my breasts escaped to freedom only to be recaptured by Willie's ravenous mouth. When she latched on to one nipple, I cried out from the delicious torment. Willie broke the contact and pulled me into a new engulfing kiss that I felt all the way to my toes.

I needed her on my clit and whimpered the request. Obligingly, her hand was in my loosened trousers, frolicking in my sudden wetness. She moaned and I held her head, hands entwined in her short, soft hair. Her touch was tentative and I wondered if she was remembering how it had been between us. I certainly was, blending the two, then and now, into an all-consuming aphrodisiac. She studied my face while her fingers entered me. I kept my eyes locked with hers as pleasure rippled through me. Only with Will was I capable of such intimacy, such passion. Only Will.

She slid under me. Her right hand was still holding me intimately as her other arm steadied me above her thighs. I glanced around the parking lot and saw no one, only yards of empty cars. I closed my eyes and we moved together. She remembered how I like to be touched; gentle nudges at first then rougher as my clit tried to escape the trauma of orgasm. I pushed against her hand and I could hear her excited breathing as I mounted closer to coming. I opened my eyes and saw she was watching my face and realized how much pleasure this gave her. Damned butches; so defensive yet so
soft. Embarrassed at being caught, she tucked her head and suckled each breast one after the other, over and over again, until I groaned and came in her hand, my clit, my whole body throbbing against her.

“Oh, Christ,” I muttered against her neck. I slumped across her, awaiting recovery. Willie's breathing was heavy. In typical Will fashion, she would never say whether she'd come, but I knew. I knew.

“I came back here for you,” she gasped, surprising me. “I need you to know that.”

We straightened my clothing as I pondered her words. We had several wet spots that we studiously smoothed. She repositioned my bra, carefully tucking my breasts away. Her big damp hands, smelling of sex, paused on the bare skin of my waist and I thought I might stop breathing.

Still kneeling across her lap but fastened into the armor of my clothing, I felt I could focus. I grasped her face in my hands and stared deeply into her eyes. She didn't pull away and I could see all the emotion she ferreted away each day as she came out to face the world. I saw her defenseless and knew whatever happened from that point onward, I would love her.

“Let's keep the truck,” I said against her lips. “Boss.”

 

 

 

 

 

Y
ou sure about this?” I asked.

The smile that stretched Sylvia's lips gave no room for argument.

The line moved slowly, a shuffling step forward, pause, another shuffling step. It felt like we were never going to get there. Ever ahead, teasing, was the screaming blur of the coaster making its round.

Sylvia didn't seem to notice the wait, with her attention fixated as it was. She'd told me that she loved coasters, that all she wanted was for me to ride with her. Sylvia, who never really asked for anything for herself, had asked for this one thing, and I was powerless to refuse her, despite the fact that standing in an endless line for a minutes-long ride—if you were lucky—was far from my favorite way to spend a weekend. So I waited,
and stepped, and repeated the cycle over and over.

We finally reached the stairs to the boarding platform. Sylvia turned to give me another blinding smile. She shifted restlessly from foot to foot and leaned forward, clearly eager to get on the coaster.

“So why coasters?” I said, finally asking the question I'd been holding back since she first introduced the subject.

Chocolate-colored brows lifted into the tumble of her hairline. “What?”

“There's nothing wrong with it,” I said quickly. “I just never took you for an adrenaline junkie, so…”

She laughed, and slid an arm around me, leaning against me in the tight line, lifting her lips to my ear even as she pulled my hand down and pressed it against the warmth of her cunt through the summer-thin material of her shorts. I curled my fingers against her without thought. I barely heard her heavy whisper of “They get me hot,” as my attention locked on the heated look in her eyes and the realization that I was in the midst of an intense erotic experience, and hadn't even noticed!

My hand clenched against her again, this time with purpose. Sylvia exhaled loudly against me, then pulled free, taking two steps on the stairs to catch up with the line, which had moved while we were “talking.”

Head spinning, I was still digesting through the next step, then two, and then we were on the platform and Sylvia had my hand again, fingers tight against my palm, and was leading me to the gates. The coaster rushed
away, laden with people, faces stretched in smiles that dimmed in comparison with Sylvia's.

I got an inkling of what she meant when the cars were set into motion—the rumble we felt through the soles of our feet and the vibrations in the air were body-shaking as we stood so close. Sylvia gripped the metal gateway and I was pushed against her as the people behind us waited for their turn to move forward. Her ass was hot against my leg, to onlookers probably nothing more than a casual touch, but I knew it was so much more.

Then a car pulled into place, and with a series of clacks the people who'd survived the ride pulled themselves free and stumbled away. In other circumstances I might have watched more carefully, but all I cared about now was that Sylvia was nearly panting in anticipation and that her nipples were rock-hard peaks against her T-shirt even through her bra. God, I loved it when she got excited. It got me wet, made me want to bend and push those shorts aside to touch her properly, to savor the smells and tastes of her, to hear her cry out with orgasm and look at me with those flushed cheeks and swollen lips….

I nearly fell getting into the seat, regained my footing and slid against her. Another rider, a stranger, pushed me even more tightly against her, and hell if I would complain! The bar came down, locking us in, and I turned to look at Sylvia. Her teeth touched her lip and her eyes were heavy. She shifted in her seat as I watched, her eyes locked with mine. The coaster rocked once,
was set into motion, and she hissed, “Yes,” between her teeth.