Title: THE STILLY NIGHT
Author: R.Schultz ( cousindream@aol.com )
Fandoms: StarTrek, Xena, The Pretender
Code: F/F and so forth.
Rating: NC-17. You betch.
Summary: Once upon in a time in a land far far away called Kansas City, Missouri, there was this wondrous magical titty bar called "The Treasure Chest". In it was a Beautiful Princess named Miss Parker. She was a Mother, had legs that wouldn't quit, and a lean sexy body that seemed to promise men a happy way to die. Hey! Miss Parker has gotten herself a new lover. Once upon a time Miss Parker also spent her days and nights shaking her luscious booty and hoping a Handsome Prince would ride up in his Ferrari and take her away from all that. It turns out to be a Lexus and there are other alterations to the dream scenario. By the way, how is Miss Parker today? Just peachy. She still answers everything with a "What?", of course.
First Disclaimer: Paramount owns Trek. Such mighty far-sighted visionaries deserve the sacrifice of juicy young virgins (all preferably looking like Denise Richards (post boob job)), but all I've been able to sacrifice lately has been the odd gopher or mole. These are hard times in America for true believers of Ba'al. Besides, virgins are heck to find these days. But if the market conditions ever improve, I still have my trusty Eternally Greedy Open Mouth of Perpetual Flames Of Ba'al. My neighbors think my Temple of Moloch is just an extra-fancy barbecue with frills. Ba'al is Patient. Ba'al is Sneaky.
Second Disclaimer: "The Pretender" and its characters belong to Fox or MTM. I'm playing with the characters and I'll put them all back like new when I'm done. Honest Injun. Would you doubt the word of a fellow believer in Ba'al? Don't sue.
Third Disclaimer: MCA/Universal owns Xena. Gabrielle and Xena could never pass as virgins, but that's not why I'd like to invite them over for a barbecue. My Temple also does a great job on back ribs and burgers. You bring the Heineken. Tell Xena and Gabby to dress for quality time in the Hot Tub. I don't have one, but that's immaterial.
Legalities: This story is mine under Berne copyright, but it may be archived, when permission is granted. July, 2003.
Send all ego-boosting and critical comments to: cousindream@aol.com Flamers may be sent to Dick Cheney. Rating NC-17 is for varied sexual stuff that offends Fox News and other Republicans. Underage types must not read this. Nor may those residing in a locale or country that says smut is illegal. In point of fact this is a lesbian love story. Deal with it.
by R. Schultz
What? Being suffocated woke me up. "What?", I mumbled. I back away, waking le chat. Nicky Brown had been blessing me with his short dark-brown-haired ass effectively blocking my air supply.
He was very forgiving and very neutered. He quickly reseated his rear end on my nose, intending to finish me off. Obviously the cat had not run off. Cats aren't always stupid, some of them know when they've got a good thing going.
Must be very careful now. But refreshment cycle is imperative. I've got to stop guzzling all those diet Pepsi's at the club. In that instant I froze and a flurry of thoughts ran through my non-functioning morning mind. I am not a morning person. I was sharing my -- her -- bed with a woman, a very sexy woman.
Slowly I slid out of bed. Breezes were coming through the screened windows. When was the last time I did real air? In that bed sprawled a dark haired beauty who awakened every positive emotion I had. She needed her sleep. It had been a hard night for her. For the first time in ages I contemplated the thought that maybe I wasn't on the bottom of the food chain.
At the "Treasure Chest" I worked six afternoons and days a week. Poor Deanna might put in a seventy or eighty hour week. For years to come and past.
I wanted to protect her. I wanted to encapsulate her away from all the cares that beset her. I wanted to ravage her until we were both dead of ecstasy. I wanted to hurry back and ease my arms around her.
Instead I occupied the throne and wondered what to do now. One answer is that I wanted to keep her as my new girlfriend, lover.
Along the way I contemplated the pluses in loving a woman. No toilet seat left up for you to fall in during the dark of the night. No jockey shorts lying on the floor, complete with skid marks in the seat. My Daddy had been bad about that.
No more taking the pill.
On the down side, our monthlies were eventually going to rear their respective irritating heads. Ankles and all. But then maybe not. When I was living with Mom, it hadn't been a problem.
There's disease. With a Doctor? Give me a break.
Sweet Mother of God. She's divorced, but I think I'm her first woman. I got a cherry. 'S'okay. I'm hers.
Finances. I needed to keep working. I'd been around the block enough on THAT idiocy. Quit work, going to live in bliss, three weeks later I'm looking for a job and my boyfriend took my stereo with him. No thank you. Keep working.
Besides which, I wanted to talk with some of the women at the titty bar about ... everything. Lesbianism was a new thing to me and I needed a daunting amount of knowledge. The club's gals ought to provide me with a lot of sage advice on ... everything. Etiquette, gay clubs, legal problems (was Deanna's divorce final yet?).
We didn't seem to have any problem knowing what to do to each other to make each other feel REAL good. Even so... God. I've been making the beast with two backs for fifteen of my twenty-five years and now I'm wondering about technique... Still, I had a feeling there was no problemo here.
Scheduling. It might be irritating to be licking my way down that wonderful warm quivering body and a phone call comes in. But it was a probability we should both be able to surmount. As to me working and her working, that might be a much bigger problem. She must work in an office or clinic somewhere, or the Hospital. I work nights at least three nights a week.
Bad. But we gotta get through this. We have to. I maybe don't love her yet. This is damned sudden and sex was the first thing we ever did together. Itself a bad sign. But already I get this terrible Astronomical Black Hole in my gut thinking of being without her.
I could see her beautiful butt and legs from where I sat. The morning light was getting clearer. My need for her was becoming clearer. I wondered if she'd like getting her heinie hole licked? For her anything was permissible.
Ce que? Anything but rob my ... my ... What do I call her? Girlfriend? Babe? Doll? Baby sounds nice. Mustn't rob her of any sleep. I wanna hold her and protect her. I need to let her sleep. Like I'm the one who can do that, protect her from harm.
Deanna called me things in French last night. I know it was French. I don't think I've ever felt so flattered or hot when she started speaking French at me. Like being massaged by butterflies. Soft and exotic and damned shivery-sexy. What the hell...? She was kissing her way down my spine and she translated one thing for me. She said I had such an incredibly soft ane si magnifique. A gorgeous ass. She turned on the light and admired it before kissing it. Flattery works. Especially in French.
Then she applied her French tongue to my pussy again. French is erotic. It even works as a language.
She speaks French. What else does she do? I know nothing about her. Who was her hubby? Did she have sex problems? I can't believe she ever had any problem with sex, not her. Any kids? No, she's too young... Wrong thought. She's older than I am.
No, if there were kids they would be here probably, if she had any, she wouldn't have such a perfect unlined soft belly, sans scars. Didn't feel any scars with my tongue. She noticed mine though. Woman has a tongue like a microscopic probe. Her tongue noticed my belly scars in the dark. What a tongue. Precise. Delicate. Sturdy. Jeez.
I check. Thinking about her French tongue just got me wet again. Woman does things to me.
Nicky Brown chirped for attention so I gingerly held him and his claws on my naked lap. Damn cat chirps as much as he purrs.
RRIIIIINNNNNGGGGG!
Deanna convulses erect, slams the clock off, and swings to the floor. She pads to the door, and I stand erect, Nicky in my arms. Deanna pauses, letting me re-admire that perfect little body. Such dark eyes. Those curls. That incredible bush of thick hair. Those thighs and the muscles in them. She must stand for hours on end. The big dark aueroles behind her dark enchanting nipples. That soft throat. Me Vampire, me want to ravage throat. Especially that inviting hollow.
"You," she says. Suddenly remembering everything. Closing her eyes and waiting for the kiss I gave her. I never noticed any of my men having such warm lips. None of them would have just stood there for an hour letting us meet tongues and lick lips and press and ... and everything. Not in the morning. Not like this. Men were always ... so damned efficient in the morning. Even when they wanted a wake-up screw.
I was still holding Nicky and he got tired. Let me down, he demanded. So we did. Then kissed some more. Then he wanted to be held again.
Deanna used my first name and I realized I must have told it to her somewhere. I hated that name. My Daddy did nothing but repeat it endlessly the first time he crawled into my bed.
But coming from her lips... It was okay. It was sweet, when she spoke it. It was a soft chant in her mouth.
"Darling," she managed between licking my chin and my throat and chewing my ear lobes. She gave Nicky Brown to me. "You're standing in my way and I had three cups of tea at the hospital and I really do need to use..." I made to leave, after putting Nicky down. Again. Insistent cat. Damn cat chirps.
A little red faced I stood outside and we talked as she got into going-to-work mode. I kissed her again and then re-did her light cherry cream 'stick. She left a few imprints on my cheek and chin, but I left them.
Her divorce had been final for almost two years now, she loved me, she was a partner in an office and clinic complex by the shopping strip on Coolidge. She was thirty-seven and born in St. Louis. And by the way she still loved me.
I repeated the datum that my daughter's name was Amy, Amelia Amity Catherine Parker, and she was with my mother and I sent most of my money to her. I had no boyfriends, period. I've been at the "Treasure Chest" for nine months, and the pay beat the hell out of clerking in an insurance office, and the hours were better than Wal-Mart. I said I loved her, too, and it felt right on my lips.
She was putting on a little rouge when she asked if I had any other girlfriends. She meant bed buddies.
I told her no, and that she was my first woman. She was shocked for that. "I'm your first?"
I had to explain about a few times in the past, where it was some man's idea, and how little I got out of it. She said I was absolutely her first. She said; "Shit", in a quiet voice, and it didn't strike me in the least as dirty in her mouth. We kissed again and she had to redo her 'stick.
It struck me she might worry about infectious shit, so I told her I hadn't slept with anyone for fifteen, eighteen months. Fifteen months. I'd had a urinary tract about ten months ago and went to a Doc for it.
She knew damned well what I was doing this medical history for, and her grin told me she appreciated my candor and reassurance. Pointing at her collection of dildos and vibrators still lying on the towel, she stated they'd been her only partners for the past two years.
She had names for them. The biggest was Oscar and I made the connection immediately. Oscar Meyer. None of the vibrators vibrated any more, but she was reluctant to throw away an old lover as if it was nothing. Her exact words. Jeez. Lovers.
She was going to be ... what? When she met my collection. Enthralled, I hoped. She shivered when I said I'd like to use her buddies on her. She'd like that. How about now? No.
I was fastening her bra on her when she turned around and started whispering into my throat. "Est si belle, a un ane si magnifique, j'aime vos cheveux e'tendus sur mon oriller, j'aime embrasser vos mamelons! Est-ce que cella vous de'range?"
"Whoa!" I had to reply. I spent a month as a waitress in a biker restaurant in Montreal, but that was during one of the times I'd ran away from home again. A few years back.
"You're beautiful, you have a gorgeous ass, I love the sight of your hair on my pillow, and might I kiss your breasts?"
I nodded a yes and let my senses enjoy as she bent to my nipples. She gave each a long wet toothy loving. She nibbles. Nibbles are nice. She sucks, both hard and gentle, like a sleeping baby. Now I got cherry cream nipples. Girl needs a better lipstick. So polite, asking first.
"You're from France? Or Canada?"
"I spent six yers in France with my husband. Jean-Luc had a practice in the Burgundy when he wasn't managing his vineyard. I did four years at the University in Dijon, then another at the Hotel there, the Hospital.
"Did you have any college?"
I told her four years, dual degrees in Anthropology and History. Which meant I was twenty-five and un-employable. She couldn't guess my age, no one could. A few times I've had to be carded, but most times they think I'm older. It must be the hard life I've led.
She was happy that I'd entered Delaware State when I was just barely seventeen and got two degrees in five. I didn't add that I adored every hour spent away from my Daddy. Long hours were my forte. He paid for it all, he had the money. He was a disgusting degenerate and a moral disaster, but since he was rich, he was cocky and arrogant. God must love him to make him so rich.
Though I guess a college education and a degree or two hasn't gotten me much besides a pair of sheepskins in a drawer and no job prospects. But it got me out of our home.
It also got me nearly thirty lovers and enough confidence so that when it was necessary I could walk out the door.
The minute he touched Amy, Mama, me, and my kid were out of there like a shot.
Some day soon I gotta tell Deanna all about ... things.
It wasn't my fault. It wasn't. It wasn't. I am not a victim.
She had her fingers in my groin, tickling my trimmed hairs. She wet her finger and entered me, making me gasp. Then she brought it out to suck on it. Breakfast, I suppose.
"Can I come visit you at the club?", she asked. "J'apporterai des Dollars! I'll bring lots of dollars. Then I'll stick them in your panties."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The entire afternoon I'd been afraid she'd realize what a loser I was and never come back. Everytime a new person come through the door my hopes rose and were instantly dashed.
Then she was suddenly there. It was a miracle. I was doing an onstage walk from one brass pole to the next when she was there, besides the stage, a rolled dollar in her hand. Out of nowhere. She'd returned. She hadn't walked away from the slut with the small tits. I was still her girl.
Without caring I dumped my clothes and tips on the dressing table and scurried back out there. Hoping she hadn't left, hoping she han't decided to forget the whore dancer, hoping she still loved me.
She was sitting there in yesterday's table, waiting for the stripper with the great legs and a daughter.
First thing we had to do was kiss. An absolute must.
Afterwards Deanna pointedly lit my first cigarette for me, when I got to her table. Point made by not making it.
I gotta quit. I gotta quit. I gotta quit.
Maybe I got something else to live for.
Then, later, I did the round of the audience. Reassurance first, then go make a living. Friday night, good crowd. When I got back to Deanna I danced close for her. She stuck a dollar down my panty hose and investigated belly. I heard her say she wanted to explore my treasure box. Later. Her treasure box? Was she getting possessive already? I shivered deliciously.
Back in the dressing room, Xena pulled me back into the office. Tasha didn't make it in tonight, but Kira, Birgit, Tepol, Kes, Uhura, Gabrielle, Annika and Boss Lady Janeway were all crowded in there. "We understand you've switched to women now," Janeway said. "The "Treasure Chest" Society of Tops, Bottoms and Dykes bid you welcome.
"May you always enjoy gourmet dining." Everyone laughed. Annika bent her big blond frame around me and gave me a gilt-paper gift-wrapped box.
These wonderful bitches. Butches? I honestly didn't know what it could be until I got it open AND after Xena untangled it for me.
It was my first strap-on. A red leather strap-on.
"Welcome to the Wild Side," Gabrielle crooned. Everybody gave me a big kiss and more than a few obscene fondles.
I still wasn't sure what the hell I had to do to wear it, so Kira helped me step into it, and adjusted the double D-rings until it fit snug. Then she loosened it, unwrapped the damned big long bright bloody-scarlet dildo and set it behind the holding rings and pad.
I was a man now. That hideous red dildo looked so hot that if anyone had touched me, begun masturbating me, I'd have come in seconds. I was amazed at how hot and powerful I felt, looking at myself in Janeway's long office mirror.
Birgit had a wonderful idea, once I began taking the leather wonder off. We debouched into the dressing area, and Birgit went and got my Deanna. I had a box of goodies to show Curls.
"I just got a present from the gals here, love." She stared at the contents and stared and stared and finally started laughing. Then we kissed, and we kissed and she rubbed her suit coat against my titties and put her knee between my legs and made me feel very appreciated in her clinch. The gals applauded.
While I changed for my next set she fellated the dildo. Belle Anna choked and stumbled when she came in from her set and saw this ravishable and devourable brunette orally enjoying a big long red rubber dildo.
Deanna said that it tasted terrible. Like that was a surprise, surprise. But she would overcome. I think she just made a pun.
There's a lot I don't know about this woman, obviously.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
What? Some people were post-Church resting this Sunday afternoon. Some were shopping. Some were mowing lawns or restaurant-ing. I was lying back in a big hot tub, chin deep, and getting lovingly fingered by a gorgeous curly-haired Doctor. Cough if you feel anything when I do this...
We weren't nude. But bikinis aren't really much of an impediment. Deanna had neighbors, and the fence was good and it was high. But even so we wore bikinis.
She floated surrounded by a dark wave of hair, her mouth busy on me, her hand working me like we'd been doing this for years. It struck me that this was probably how she masturbated. Ball of the palm insistent, moving, pulling, revolving, continuous. Not concentrating only on the clit bundle, but on all of my upper pussy. She kept kissing, excepting for breaks when she'd admire the stupid hypnotized look I got on my face. Open mouth and staring.
She was in no hurry. We had all day. Unless the phone rang.
The phone rang.
Not her fault. Damndamndamndamn. Her eyes were pleading with me as she answered it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It rained later, and the sky stayed dark. She dragged in four hours later. I'd had a bubble bath with some of her mink pearls, put on some good Estee Lauder of hers, cleaned some windows and vacuumed the floor, changed the sheets, did the dishes, did the laundry, changed the cat litter, cooked a small meat loaf, and shaved my pussy bald. Though not in that order.
By the time she was through the kitchen door I had most of the lights off and had slipped on one of her delightful yellow sheer negligees. Languid Barbra Streisand now played on the CD, if she felt like dancing. If not it'd cut off at the end.
I called to her and she walked into a corridor with my enticing body revealed and backlighted by a foyer light where I'd put in a dimmer light bulb. I'd damned better be inticing.
She billowed into my arms, a long sigh escaping her. We went upstairs, and we kissed and caressed alongside her bed. Her negligee opened from my body as she discovered my shaved pussy. She chuckled as she caught my clit between finger and thumb. Her fingers lubricated as she searched my folds and secrets with strong surgeon's fingers. I wet her fingers and she wriggled my clit knob between two fingers. Pulling me out, wagging me, squeezing me, making my pussy glow with intense heat. Then she flicked a short fingernail over my erect rod. I went helpless and half blind and she entered me. She supported me and kissed me, robbing me of breath as I came on her pumping finger.
She rolled the negligee off me, sucking my nipples into her mouth again. Her fingers kept wandering my groin, searching for new and wetter treasures. Her wet hand on my bald mound sent shiver after shiver up my belly and my back. She said she liked my shaved mound, but warned me it'd itch later. The hell with itching. Maybe I could get her to scratch it for me.
She pushed my weak and nude body back on the bed, and straddled me with her legs, pinning me. She was still fully clothed. "I thought about doing this as I prepped for the OR. I knew I was going to lose Matthew and I concentrated instead on what I would do to you, with you, for you when I got back."
She carefully re-pinned my arms with her pants-clad legs, and began to undress herself. The conservative dark suit jacket. The colorful batik blouse. The bra. She worked her breasts while I was helpless beneath her. Pinching her nipples, making them darker and hard. She moved her breasts in her hands, enjoying her own soft undersides.
"When I was covered in death, I envisioned your body, and the glow of your flesh. I searched to recall the scent of you on my tongue when you came, the feel of your nipples hard against my palm, the long Roman nose you explored my belly button with. The intense heat of your body as I sawed your divide with the side of my hand. You are life while I was in Death."
Backing off the bed, Deanna stood upright before me, signaling me to remain prone and naked. She rolled her own pants down, and I could hear the electric whisper of cloth across her skin in a pause in her talking.
"All I could think of was you, because you are the Future and life. In my own mind I embraced life even as I pronounced time of death. In my soul I escaped forward to the Future and put the cooling remains of someone I knew behind me."
Deanna pulled me to the edge of the bed, and knelt her face between my outspread legs. She kissed my pussy, a dozen times, then leaned back and looked up into my clouded eyes.
"Tell me you will never die, dearest Parker mine," she demanded. "Lie if you must, but swear on the Holy Virgin Mother that I shall never see you die.
"Swear it!"
"I swear," I managed. At the time I was sure I could fulfill that oath. I must. I must. Somehow I must stop smoking.
Deanna bent to worship me with her tiny tongue and strong lips. Those black curls fell forward and obscured her face as I was received through Heaven's gates.
She kept working in me, feeding on me, and breaking off to admire her handiwork and my gaping need. "Please..." I moaned.
"Not good enough," she said. Her breath tortured me, her teeth bit my thigh, making me jump. Then she returned to pushing her tongue tip into me, prompting another "Please, please!" from me.
Her eyes burned into mine, her breath scalded me, she tortured me by tonguing and licking my bald Mons.
"Please..." again.
She bit my large soft red labia with the gentlest nip of teeth, daring me to plead again. My hips danced up and down, trying to improve the rub of her face on me. She tortured my clit with the ball of her thumb. Slowly. Pushing, hurting it, making me desperate, making me gasp for breath.
"Lift your legs. Spread them good." She grabbed both cheeks and put her mouth in my ass. I moaned as the new wet sensations of her tongue probing me overwhelmed my remaining reserve.
"Do you like that, darling?" she teased. I moaned. "Or do you like my mouth better here?" She chewed my labia and rubbed my clit with her dainty nose. I moaned again, continuously now.
The heat rolled off her, it was a physical wave. Her eyes were so hot as she licked me, tasted me, parted me with two fingers, worshipping me.
I am flying, I said to myself, string at the ceiling. I am become an Angel. I have learned to fly, but fear some day I must fall into the sun. Burning for an instant like a moth in a fireplace. But I could not go on that joyous mission yet, for my present fate is to lose my wings like Icarus and crash into a woman's tender lips. I must slow down, but first I must speed up, so that my Fall from Grace is that of Gabriel shrieking The End of Time in the skies.
Deanna stayed with me in my plummet, her warm mouth a searing weapon that made me shed my waxy wings. I cried warm tears and they puddled in my ears as I sang my one repeated note of praise to forgetful eternity.
Afterwards Deanna held me, and told me more of her patient, he who had died on the table. She'd known him for five years, one of her first patients when she came back from France.
She had assisted, as the Chief Surgeon desperately sawed him open to hold his heart in his hands and tried to massage it back to life. It would not beat, and so he was coded.
She said it with emotion, and I expected her to cry, but she did not. She'd learned to accept their leaving years ago. All the many thems. The many patients. It hurt, but she had needed to let them go when they went. I dared not ask if she recalled how many she had lost over the years. I don't think I could have kept back the tears.
As the rain returned, preceded by hailstones, I told her of my life. Finally.
Brothers Jarod and Lyle. My mother, my sister, she who was both. Running away from our nice brick home with the driveway. Many times. Giving birth in a charity ward and crawling back to Daddy again. Eleven years old and Jarod having me in the ass, with me draped over my childhood's Rocking Horse. Lyle selling me to his drunken beer buddies for five dollars a pop. I hurt to remember, my pains were profound. But my own pains and tragedies didn't seem quite so immense any more.
I must be her lantern in the dark, her touchstone, her lighthouse. I must save us both. Somehow.
Deanna said my heart was beating like that of a frightened Doe, and held me closer, hands whispering on my sensitive back with her exploring fingertips.
We made plans to go to Kaskaskia and visit my daughter and my sister. Deanna thought it natural to visit my mother and my child. We. Together. We would go to see my daughter.
My mind skipped with ill grace like a flat stone across placid water, until it was out of sight and must sink. I could not think of us all in the same household. I must not conceive of us making a new home together. Deanna and me, and my mother and daughter with us. I dare not allow myself to even think of the concept.
"How many miles to Babylon?
"Twenty Miles and Ten.
"Can I get there by candlelight?
"There and back again."
Deanna turned me over, her hands rediscovering my back and ass, thighs and neck. Then she turned me belly up once more, scooting down my body with a few quick kisses, until she stared into my suddenly moistened pussy.
"Vous gov't de miel et pe'trole doux," Deanna crooned. My eyes closed with the ecstasy of her lyrical French itemizing thoughts of love and lust.
"J'aime comment vous gou'tez! I mean it, you taste ... like woman, ripe woman. I am already addicted to the taste. You are my narcotic and I am addicted. J'aime de sentir de vous entre mes dants. Je peux sentir votre tige dure minuscule quand de suck sur vous... Do you like it when I grind your little clit between my teeth?"
Deanna carefully wet her fingers and inserted them in me, one by one. "You are so tight. Je deux vous sentir traire mes doigts! Almost as if your sweet vagina were a baby's mouth, searching for milk!
Once more I was bucking into her, and she leaned forward to suck on my clit as her lovely fingers metronomed in and out of me.
"Venez, amoureux! Venez pour moi! Venez dur! Come hard for me, you can come again, you're always ready to come, aren't you? Come hard! Show me how wet you can make my fingers, wet my tongue with your sweet oils, come for me. Just for me. Just for me..."
I came again, and she continued to fuck me until I moaned for relief. She gave me her fingers to suck, and then burrowed into my groin to lick the taste of me from me.
I felt regret for never learning more when I was with those Quebecqois bikers.
She lay alongside me again, hands on my back, thumbs along the line of spine. She rolled me on my side and ran her knuckles across the soft underparts of my breast. She kept gripping my poor nipples between strong fingers, pulling and teasing, nails hurting the stiffness of my nipples. Her thumbnails ran along the top and then the bottom, admiring my quivers and body heat.
"Where's your stuff, your gift from work?"
I was able to help her put the strap-on in place, my shaking hands adequate to the task of cinching it snugly on her body. As the red dildo stood out proudly from her groin, Deanna had become my newest man. I got on my knees to worship his cock with my mouth, to please him and make him ready for my fuck. He made little incoherent noises of satisfaction as I took him into my throat. He caressed my head as I licked the piss slot with my tongue tip and deep throated his masculinity.
I watched Deanna's face as I worked her cock, willing it to even more hardness and myself to greater wetness. Eventually Deanna tired of my spirited blow job, and indicated our movement back onto the bed. When I made to roll onto my back he slapped my ass hard, and told me a hot bitch like me was meant to be fucked like any other dog.
As he maneuvered behind me, I had a second to realize what had happened since her return from the Hospital. I knew about Tops and Bottoms, Submissives and Dominants, everyone did. However, since realizing my lesbianism, I had never thought of myself as the Bottom.
Deanna was an Alpha, she had to be. Shrinking Violets never made it into the elite ranks of Doctors, much less Surgical Specialists. Deanna had to have tons of drive and fortitude. It was as natural for her to be my Top as it was for water to flow downhill. It was natural and I felt no desire to contest the results. Rather it made me feel safe in her arms.
I felt his cock prod the back of my thighs, knowing I would come gloriously on his prick. As the head carefully parted my muscles to begin entry, I thought about fisting.
I wet and groaned with the vision, seeing me, not her, as the first one to receive a loving hand inside my body. Deanna bucked and slid all the way inside me. He slid in until I felt the sudden sharp little pain when the cocktip barely hit my cervix. Then he began to regularize the fuck. In and out, in and out, each down-stroke resulting in that incredibly erotic and sensual smeck and slapping sound of him bottoming out in me.
Unlike most men, he leaned forward, to again pay homage to my hard nipples and small soft breasts. Most men did not awaken heat and sensation by their caresses of my breast undersides.
He rubbed his thumbs provocatively down my back, then probed my rear crack and my groin with his sure fingertips. He enjoyed the swells of my ass, slapping them, scratching them, lifting them, cupping my roundness in his hands. My breathlessness echoed the rhythmic motions of his own buttocks as she continually fed his cock into me, kissing my back continuously. She was licking my back when I finally howled in pain and warmth to feel my come overtake me on his lovely penis.
Deanna stopped all movement, letting me impale myself at my own pace and rhythm, letting me work out the spasms and overglow. I wished for a mirror so that I might watch me come on that bright red cock. I looked underneath my body, my paps swinging as Dear Deanna once more took up the tantalizing rhythm of the fuck.
He pushed into my muscular softness, then out again, dragging inches of me impaled and wetly bound to his prick, dragging my pink folds into the outside air. The redness of his cock enthralled me, matched as it was by the slapping sound of our congress and the filling of all my cracks and crevices by his long large pile driver. I became lost once more in the continuing friction. surrendering myself to my orgasms and my lover. My fingers tore holes in the pillow, my mouth kept closing and opening.
Slide, squeeze, loss, sweat and heat pouring off my skin. Bounce of breast and always the sweet friction. She kissed me wetly, and I joyed in the sound, even as my senses spiraled higher.
I froze, shivering in an electrical storm, watching that red cock slide in and out of me, drooling, coming. Again and again or continuously, the sound of buttocks being slapped by belly a musical accompaniment to my fire and melting.
As she withdrew, she covered my round ass with kisses, and re-penetrated my oozing and gaping opening with her fingers. I collapsed.
I turned to my lover, realizing I probably did love this woman. This is what it feels like to love someone, I told myself. Revelation instead of delusions. Desire mixed with profound lust. I felt as if I were losing my body as well as my soul in the warm soft female flesh next to me. Deanna's eyes sparkled as my hand dove between her groin and the strap-on. Neither one of us bothered with removing it, not right now.
It was inevitable, losing myself in this hot flesh, her hips already moving in urgent thrusting motions of sex, the fragrant wetness of woman striking my nostrils as Deanna thrust against the consuming force of my hand. Where I ended and Deanna began was no longer clearly defined and it no longer mattered. I wanted to process the sensations, slowly savoring each increase in fire. But for Deanna the momentum was too great, her body was out of control, she was water flowing downhill in spate.
Her body clamped down on my fingers, her tightness immobilized my penetrations, she cried her puppy complaint and I felt the fluids of her regard inundate the receptors of my hand. Where I began and Deanna ended was now historical query. I began once more the patterns of lust and Deanna responded by twisting and writhing hungrily, eager for another come on my hand. Water was heat, truth was legend, cold was smoothness, friction was a breeze on warm skin. My hand worked her and we together pawed at the strap-on until it littered itself into open space and disappeared.
I nursed at her throat, my hand still groping her Mons, her hands spreading my butt cheeks before finding my own wetness with desperate fingers.
I moved up her, and we rubbed belly to belly. We convulsed together, time immemorial to time immemorial, our skins voices meeting in open space, high above the Earth. Our spirits looked at the stars of the Stilly Night and we lifted off on Promethean tongues of fire and met in apogee for one lingering moment of ecstasy.
Our orgasm built from the friction as our hips bucked and we plummeted through the thin upper planetary atmosphere on our destructive fall. We were both fallen Angels, intent on crashing into destruction rather than becoming one of the Damned. We were saved in our deaths, we were cast down in our Hosannas, we came together on each other's thigh and belly. For one lingering moment we could see the streets of Gold in Heaven. I had ridden to where the sky was dark and full of unwinking stars. The cold Stilly Night. Up there. Unwinking, unafraid. I accepted my comet's fate. Just so long as I was with my Lady of Ecstasy when I burnt to soft floating dust.
Taste. Scent. Touch. I looked into her dark eyes, and left my cheek resting on her breast.
"Have you had many men?" she whispered the question. "Did you ever love them?" I said yes and always. I have never loved too wisely, but too well.
"I love you," we both sang in unintended unison.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It cost too much money, the co-pay with my crappy insurance was Fifty dollars the first visit, but I had to do it. Just to see where she worked. The people she worked with. Four Doctors in this wing of the clinic.
Inside the examination room I was turned away from the door when it opened for the Doctor, and I smiled into a "Hello, Sweetheart." It was Beverly, Bev Crusher, all crisp and efficient and confused. A smile quickly spread over her face and she leaned forward to give me a great kiss. A warm kiss, lips pressing, nothing chaste, like lovers. For just that moment.
"Call me Sweetheart and that deserves a good kiss, don't you agree?" She touched my cheek with the back of her hand. "You look a lot prettier in a good light," she added. She'd been back twice more to the club, to watch Kira dance. Her and Deanna both.
"I'll get you the Doctor you need, just hold on." But she lingered a minute, judging me.
"You know Tasha has moved in with Doctor Sato, don't you? That's why Miss Yar hasn't been back to the club. But Hoshi, she's a Pediatrician, and the parents of her patients... So far as that goes, Deanna's patients, many of them are elderly..."
"Anyone asks, we're just good friends," I told her. Noting that she never asked about my silence for her own newfound lover and life. But then women have always been brave. And too often bit our lips and kept our mouths closed. We've had to be.
"Nothing more." I felt like a hypocrite, and I was, but America is as it is, and my crusading years were long past. I wished to send out engraved notices announcing my love to all in Missouri. Deanna was my dream made into toned flesh. She looked so dark against my light cream skin. But it would never happen.
Once I saw a book cover behind glass, on display on Campus during Pride week. "The Love That Dared Not Speak It's Name." I knew silence was necessary, but it still hurt.
Deanna bustled in, astounding me with her crisp air of authority and efficiency. Still she found time for a hug and kiss. She wiped my throat clean, agreeing she needed a new and better lipstick. Then she chased me out and told the desk not to charge for this first visit. It was just a 'get-acquainted' visit, and I did not need any medical assistance. She never once berated me for my barging on her, nor did she ask for my silence or discretion.