Read Girls Only: Pool Party Online

Authors: Selena Kitt

Tags: #erotica, #erotic, #lesbian

Girls Only: Pool Party


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By Selena Kitt


High school senior, Moxie, agrees to be
moral support for her friend, Patches, who is totally enamored with a college
boy, so she says yes to a double date, even though she has to lie to her
parents to do it. But Moxie wasn’t counting on lying about her age to get into
an x-rated movie, and she definitely wasn’t counting on her date’s Roman hands
and Russian fingers, or the fact that the pants she’s borrowed from Patches are
several sizes too small. By the end of the night, Moxie finds herself in far
more trouble than she bargained for!



Selena Kitt’s
*Girls Only*—where the girls get naughty together, but it feels oh, so good!

When her new neighbor, Gina, moves in, shy
Nancy gets invited to her pool party, but she isn’t quite ready for all the
attention she gets in the bikini that Gina’s loaned her. And she definitely
isn’t ready for that drunken, crazy point in the party when everyone abandons
their bathing suits altogether! Nancy hides in a cabana until Gina comes to
find her and slowly and deliciously convinces her that being naked isn’t such a
bad thing after all!

Selena Kitt Single

Short Story—Big

(approx 8000 words)

Warning: This title
contains hot panty-melting girl-on-girl action!





Pool Party


By Selena Kitt



Selena Kitt

Short Story—Big



Nancy didn’t know what
her neighbor had against clothing, but she rarely saw her wearing any. Not that
she could blame the woman. Santa Barbara was hot in the summer, and if Nancy
looked like the woman next door—a tall, busty, long-legged redhead—she might go
around naked all the time too.

They met over their
shared fence, a tall, synthetic privacy affair overgrown on Nancy’s side with a
thick vine of morning glories. One Saturday afternoon, while Nancy was on her
hands and knees, wearing her summer uniform of denim shorts and a tank-tee, up
to her elbows in dirt digging in her garden, she heard a voice coming from next

“I’m pretty sure it’s old
blue jeans.”

Nancy looked up to see
her new neighbor’s pretty green eyes framed by straight, blunt-cut
copper-colored bangs peeking over the fence line.

“Excuse me?” Nancy
brushed a stray strand of dark hair out of her eyes, tilting her gardening hat
back and peering up at the woman.

“That song you were
Crocodile Rock
, right? Elton John?”

Nancy flushed. She hadn’t
even realized she was singing.

“It’s not Ovaltines, it’s
blue jeans.” The redhead giggled. “‘Dreaming of my Chevy and my old blue jeans…’
not ‘my Ovaltines.’”

“Oh.” Nancy blushed a
deeper red. “I had no idea.”

“I’m Gina, by the way. Gina
Cole. I don’t think we’ve met.”

Nancy did the polite
thing, abandoning her spade and gardening gloves and walking over to the fence
to properly introduce herself.

“Nancy. Nancy Weimer.
Well, Robbins, once the divorce is final.”

The redhead raised one
perfectly arched eyebrow. “Would you like condolences or congratulations?”

Nancy laughed. “A little
bit of both, I guess. You know how it is.”

“Oh, no. Not me.” Gina
waggled the fingers of her left hand as proof. “Free as a little birdie.”

“Well, Santa Barbara is a
great place to be young and single.”

“Yes it is! I can’t say I
miss L.A. at all.” Gina cocked her head, contemplating her neighbor’s garden. “You
know, your yard would be just perfect with a pool.”

Nancy laughed. “Sorry,
inside joke. My husband was a scuba diver. Loved the water. We had a pool. I
had it filled in last year and planted this garden.”

“Oh, a victory garden!”
Gina exclaimed with a giggle.

“Something like that.”

Gina jerked her head in
the direction of the pool behind her. “Well if you ever get hot, feel free to
come on over and hop in my pool. Plenty of room!”

“Thanks.” Nancy glanced
over her shoulder at where her own pool used to be, where Neil would spend
hours doing laps back and forth. “Would you like something from my garden?”

“Organic?” Gina inquired
with a frown. “I only eat organic…”

Nancy scoffed, going over
and picking a cucumber off one of the trellises. “Of course. These are huge
this year.”

“My goodness! They
certainly are!” The redhead’s eyes widened as Nancy handed her the long, fat vegetable.
“Well, thank you. I can think of lots of good uses for this guy!”

She smiled. “Welcome to
the neighborhood.”

Nancy noticed, when Gina
reached over the fence, her neighbor was bare-shouldered, but the fence was in
the way and she couldn’t see any more. It wasn’t until the following week,
standing on the balcony outside her bedroom window in a robe, towel-drying her
hair and looking down at the fence she’d had installed around her garden
boxes—the rabbits had eaten all of her new melons—when Nancy saw Gina stretched
out beside her pool on a lounge chair wearing absolutely nothing. Well, that
wasn’t quite true—she had on a floppy white hat and a pair of sunglasses, but
that was all.

The fence was tall and
afforded plenty of privacy, but houses on their street were smashed together in
little squares like postage stamps. California land was at a premium and having
more of it was very expensive. Nancy could see everyone’s yard on all sides. She
stood looking out her window, wondering if the thought had occurred to her new
neighbor, who was completely exposed, not only to the elements, but to the eyes
of every surrounding neighbor who happened to glance out an upstairs window.
Mr. Desoto on the other side of her would certainly be thrilled—the old geezer
had flirted with Nancy since she and Neil had moved in as newlyweds. He was
probably foaming at the mouth at the sight of their shared neighbor.
Thankfully, there were no kids in the neighborhood, at least within sight

What didn’t occur to
Nancy, as she gaped at her neighbor’s admittedly gorgeous nude body, was Gina
might be able to see her too—not until Gina leaned over, picking up a drink
with an umbrella stuck into it and raising it in Nancy’s direction in a salute.
Her mouth went instantly dry and her stomach dropped to her toes, having been
caught peeping on her neighbor in the raw.

What else could she do
but raise a hand in a wave?

The next time they saw
each other was one of the few times Nancy saw her neighbor with her clothes on.
Gina was wearing a white linen pants suit and heels, with a lemon yellow scarf
at her neck and the same floppy white hat, walking two very large but very
well-mannered black and white spotted Great Danes past Nancy’s yard. Nancy grew
as many plants in her front yard as her back one, using the space to cultivate
the useful but still pretty flowered ones like lavender, lemongrass, chives,
thyme and even curry.

When Nancy waved, Gina
stopped to talk, both dogs heeling and sitting at her commands, their big
tongues hanging low as they panted on the sidewalk. The women chatted about the
dogs (Nancy admitted she was a cat person, owning three of them) and the
weather (in Santa Barbara, there hardly was such a thing to discuss, it was
always beautiful) and Mr. Desoto (who had, indeed, propositioned his new
neighbor) and that, of course, gave Nancy the perfect opportunity to inquire.

“You know, if I can see
you sunbathing from my window, Mr. Desoto probably can too?”

Gina rolled her eyes and
waved her hand in dismissal. “Let him look. What do I care? I’ve been in
Playboy twice. He can drool over me in the September 2000 issue to his heart’s

That’s when her new
neighbor revealed her profession as a model, sometimes actress, and one-time
Playboy bunny, and Nancy began to understand her lack of modesty.

“Besides, it’s my own
backyard,” Gina huffed. “I’ll do what I like. That’s what fences are for.”

Nancy nodded. “Good
fences make good neighbors.”

And that’s where they
left it.

The next time Nancy saw
her new neighbor, Gina was masturbating.

The sight was so
shocking, Nancy forgot what she was doing, the fly-swatter in her hand, the one
with which she’d been chasing an errant bee around in her room, dropping to the
floor. The door wall to her balcony was open, the screen letting in a nice,
cool breeze on a warm summer day, and a honeybee from her hive out back had
found its way in through a hole in the screen. But when Nancy saw what her
neighbor was doing, all thoughts about the wayward insect were forgotten.

Gina was naked on her lounge
chair—a sight Nancy had grown used to, in some ways—her body slick with oil,
her skin the color of café au lait. A redhead without freckles was unusual
enough, but a redhead with such a rich, beautiful tan was stunning. And she was
clearly a “real” redhead, because the hair between the woman’s long, slender thighs
was a fiery copper color—what there was of it. Below a little triangle at the
very top, the woman was completely shaved. Nancy could see that clearly enough,
even though Gina’s hand, moving between her legs, partially covered the view.

Nancy told herself to
walk away, to go back to reading about sustainable gardening and forget about
her neighbor’s slick, glistening, oiled-up flesh show. But she didn’t. She
couldn’t. She was frozen in place, paralyzed by the arousing sight and sound of
the woman’s pleasure. The breeze carried Gina’s little mews and soft cries as
her fingers moved faster between her open thighs.

Nancy couldn’t remember how
long had it been since she herself had masturbated—since she’d thought about
sex at all. With Neil, sex had become such a power struggle, once he was gone,
she’d thrown the baby out with the bath water. So to speak. But just the sight
of Gina on display, touching herself without reserve—did she know Nancy was
watching? That anyone could be watching?—made her clench every muscle she had
below the waist.

Don’t. Shouldn’t.
All the negatives going through her mind made what she was
doing—standing in front of the window, legs squeezed tight together, breathing
shallow and fast—somehow even more exciting. Nancy couldn’t see her neighbor’s eyes—her
sunglasses were on, and her hat cast half her face in shadow—but she could see
her mouth, how she drew her lower lip between her teeth as her hand moved
faster and faster between her legs.

Nancy found her own hand
wandering south, the denim of her jean shorts too tight, tugging between her
thighs. She rubbed the seam, working it into her cleft as she watched her
neighbor’s gloriously oiled up, tanned, pink-tipped breasts moving with her masterbatory
motion, Gina’s fingers weren’t just rubbing anymore, but plunging deep, fucking
herself. Her knees were drawn up, her red-painted toes curled, hips moving up
and down on the lounge chair.

What was she imagining?
Nancy wondered, leaning against the doorframe as she unzipped her cutoffs and
slid her hand into the moist crotch of her panties. Oh fuck, she was wet. She
hadn’t been wet like this in ages, couldn’t remember the last time she’d been
aroused at all, in fact. Aside from a few vague wet dreams here or there that
burned away in the heat of the day, her life had become so singular and
sterile—home, work, garden. The only mating going on in her life had been
crossbreeding her plants.

But she was aroused now.
Her pussy sucked her fingers in, hungry and desperate for more. It was hardly
enough. Nancy remembered something as she watched her neighbor’s display, her
fingers, three of them—no, four, practically her whole hand!—thrusting in and
out of her wet hole, and bolted to her dresser. In the bottom drawer were her
pantyhose, slips, a few bits of lingerie from Victoria’s Secret to tempt Neil
back in the day, and a pink, silicone Rabbit vibrator he had purchased for her
one Valentine’s Day.

She’d only ever used it
once, and when she turned it on, she was sure nothing would happen, that the
batteries would not only be dead, but corroded inside—a bit like she felt—and
the moment would be gone, everything spoiled. But instead it buzzed to life,
sending an exciting jolt through her as she rushed back to the window to watch
her neighbor’s show, afraid she might have missed the fireworks ending.

But no, Gina was still
fucking herself, mouth open now, head back, thigh muscles taut with effort.
Nancy flushed, hot and ashamed of herself, but she yanked her shorts and
panties off and shoved the vibrator up inside her throbbing pussy with complete
abandon, not caring anymore. She was too desperate for an orgasm, watching Gina
working toward hers. The vibrator hummed, the silicone rabbit hitting her
clitoris at just the right angle, making her moan softly, her nipples hardening
under her t-shirt.

“Oh fuck!” Gina cried, hips
bucking up fast, hard, again and again. Her words were clear, if a little
faint. “Ooooo yeah! Fuck yeah! I’m gonna come!”




Nancy fucked herself with
the toy, her level of arousal so high she knew it wouldn’t be long before her
own orgasm. The hot buzzing between her legs drove her mad with lust and her
knees weakened and buckled as she watched her neighbor’s climax, the way Gina
drove her hips toward the sky as she came and came, her body shuddering with

Nancy came too, so
suddenly she cried out with the force of it as her orgasm shook her like a
livewire, hot, electric, throbbing jolts of pleasure jerking her limbs and
making the muscles of her pussy clamp down on the vibrator again and again.
Trembling and breathless, she collapsed onto the floor in front of the door
wall, sliding the vibrator out of her still quivering pussy and turning it off.

She didn’t peek to see if
Gina had heard her, although some part of her wanted to. Instead she rested,
catching her breath, feeling the soft touch of the breeze and the warm caress
of the sunshine coming through the door wall, wondering how in the hell she had
managed so long without
. When she had finally recovered, she dared
to look over at her neighbor’s yard, but the lounge chair was empty. Gina was

Nancy didn’t see her
again for a few weeks, when Gina stopped on her way by with the dogs as Nancy
knelt in the front yard, pruning. Her neighbor tapped her shoulder—she had been
so lost in her own thoughts, she hadn’t heard her approach—and when Nancy
turned and saw who it was, she was sure she blushed as pink as the buds Gina
exclaimed over.

“I’ve never seen such
gorgeous roses!”

“These are just
ornamental,” Nancy explained, trying to hide her flush under the brim of her
had. “I like the wild ones out back more. I gather the rosehips in the fall.
They’re so rich in Vitamin C, you can actually treat colds and flu with them. And
I make rose oil out of the seeds. It’s a great treatment for wrinkles.”

“Really?” The redhead
leaned over the roses to breathe in the scent. “I’d like to try some.”

“You don’t have any
wrinkles,” Nancy remarked, and it was true, for the most part. Gina seemed
ageless, like a long-legged, fiery goddess.

“You’re sweet.” Gina
laughed. “How old would you guess I am?”

“Twenty-eight?” Nancy was

“Ha. I’m thirty-four.” Gina
took off her sunglasses, leaning in so close Nancy could smell her perfume,
something flowery and sweet, a far better scent than roses. “See these
wrinkles? Ugh! Thank god for airbrushing!”

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