Best Lesbian Erotica 2011

THE SWEET TOOTH NEVER FADES Erica Gimpelevich

Four months broken up, and I’ve got Alice bent over a table, breasts crushed against the polished wood. My crotch grinds into her ass, humping her through fabric. She moans, squirms around until I hook my fingers into bony hips and use the grip to keep her steady.

“Fuck me,” she says.

I pause. Lust and reason are competing for dominance of my brain.

“Fuck me or I’ll get someone else to.” “Someone else” is code for my replacement: a slender, self-important, dickwad who struts around town in expensive suits.

I yank her pants down around her ankles in one violent motion. My palm connects sharply against her flesh. She gasps and moans, her bare ass jiggling. I smack it again with a solid crack that echoes around the room. I keep hitting her until my hand stings and her skin turns blotchy red.

I’m not sure how this happened. Last time I saw her, there had been a lot of yelling. most of it directed at me. Something about my being a “motherfucking asshole who’s a motherfucking lunatic if she thinks she can keep playing Peter Pan in my goddamn house.”

We’d just broken up and I hadn’t finished packing. Two years together and she’d dumped me over something as stupid as not making rent. So, yeah, I was pissed. But I hadn’t expected her to get home early. Or to walk in on my rebound—a pretty redhead with long, curly hair and freckles on her tits—lying spreadeagled across the couch with me buried to the wrist between her legs. An innocent mistake; it could happen to anyone. And I have a right to drown my sorrow, right? Apparently not. She kicked me out, butt-naked, along with my date.

After that, things got awkward: lots of clunky maneuvers around town, steering clear of mutual hangouts, mutual friends. It totally killed my social life, but I figured she’d throw my dick in the blender if she saw me. Not my idea of fun.

But I guess time cooled her down. Or avoiding me got boring. Or maybe she just wanted to throw her new boy toy in my face. Either way I found a message from her on my phone. We’re both adults, she’d said. Let’s act our age and practice being civil.

We agreed to meet in a neutral space. There aren’t a lot of those in our tiny town, so we settled on taking a tour of the candy plant. It seemed perfect: public enough we couldn’t fight, boring enough for a short visit; ready-made conversation pieces and, most important, cheap. One of my friends worked security there and let me in gratis whenever I felt like freeloading mountains of processed sugar. Last time I got so sick I couldn’t look at candy corn for weeks without my stomach running circles, though that’s beside the point. Or maybe not: self-control exists for other people, somewhere far, far away from me. But, come on—a candy factory? With big, bright murals that looked straight out of a sixties psychedelic poster and little kids climbing over their parents, begging for sweets? How innocuous can you get?

She showed up looking like I remembered: same smile, same tight jeans that showed the bounce in her ass as she walked, cherry-red lipstick that made her look like a blonde Snow White. Our time apart twisted and shrank back into nothing. She saw me and started over. Stilettos clicked against the pavement. I realized, while trying not to check her out, that she had dressed up for this. When the hell did I turn into someone to impress?

“Hey,” I started. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Did I keep you waiting?”

Only fifteen minutes. That used to drive me nuts about her, always running late. “No, I just got here.”

“Do I get a hug?” We inched together and did a quick embrace, the kind you give coworkers and that one guy whose name you feel bad about forgetting. She smelled good. I wanted to bite her neck, breathe it all in. Maybe we should have waited longer.

“You look good.” I meant it.

“You too. Shall we?” she asked, motioning toward the factory entrance.

I led the way, practically an expert after all the time I’ve spent bumming around, waiting for Gary to get off work. He’s my drinking buddy. I already had passes saying we were allowed to be there, so we could get started right away. Except we were running just late enough to miss the hourly tour.

“Sorry,” Alice said, looking over a list of prohibited behavior posted up on the wall. NO SMOKING. NO CLIMBING INTO VATS. CHILDREN MUST BE ACCOMPANIED BY AN ADULT AT ALL TIMES. “Should we wait for the next one?”

“Fuck that. It’ll take forever.”

“Then what do you want to do?” I heard a slight edge to her voice, some ice within the honey. Like it was my fault she didn’t show on time.

“Let’s just go in and catch up. It won’t be hard to find them.”

“Are you sure?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Totally. I know where they are.” Famous last words. Inside was a little more complicated than I remembered, and all the big pipes looked the same. I led us through a couple of wrong turns, and we ended up in an area I’d never seen before. Normally I’d turn back and ask for directions, but she was staring at me like she knew this would happen because I always got us lost. Like she was remembering why we split. The logical part of my brain knew that finding a candy tour wouldn’t prove I’m not a fuckup, but try telling me that. I went ahead until we hit a wall.

She rolled her eyes. “Now what?”

“We keep going.” The wall in front had a door in it. I walked up and twisted the handle. “It isn’t locked.”

That’s how we ended up in this big abandoned room, with nice cushy chairs around a huge conference table. I swear she kissed me first. One minute I’m shutting the door, to explore where candy-making action happens, and the next her lips are mashed against mine with her whole body pressed into me. It was pure reaction when I shoved my tongue in her mouth. And when I flipped her on the table. I’d been wet since I first saw her, and now I’m aching so bad I can’t think.

I hit her one last time.

“Do you like that?” I ask. She doesn’t answer but her breath falls in shallow waves. I’m aching to fill her up. All the blood is rushing from my head into my vulva, pulsing hot and impatient, completely at odds with our sterile surroundings. I want to reach into her and pluck every seed this new guy left, go deep enough to grasp her womb and leave it bruised. To prove I can fuck better than any prick who happens through her life.

I flip her over and push her up, so she’s sitting on the table’s edge. Her legs swing back and forth, too short to reach the floor. Her pants slide right off over the heels and land in a puddle on the ground. I spread her legs wide and run my fingers over the lips of her flaxen-haired twat. She’s soaking wet. The lube is running down, already trying to drench my hand.

“Miss me?” I ask.

“Yes.” Her eyes are glazed. I know that look. Know what to do.

I slide one finger in, then two. They go in easy. I start with slow, gentle strokes. Work my way up to three inside and my thumb circling her clit. She bites her painted bottom lip, white enamel against shiny red. The thick, damp scent of her hangs heavy all around. Musty.

I’m getting faster and faster. It starts to feel frenzied, my screwing her. She’s saying, “Oh, oh,” over and over in different pitches, some high and some deep in her throat. Her cunt feels like a handle, with my fingers curled to hit her G-spot, like I can use it to pick her up. Without warning I pull out and wipe the lube off on her. Her pubes are like steel wool, trimmed enough to scratch at my hand, but long enough to curl.

“Don’t stop.” She sounds desperate.

“Beg.” The word is steel. It hardly sounds like me.

“Please, Cole. You can’t leave me like this.”

“I can’t?”

“I want you. Please. I need it. I’ll do anything, just keep fucking me.”

“Better.” I unzip my fly and let the baggy jeans drop. She stares. Boxer briefs hold a solid, black dildo flat against one leg. Okay, yeah, I’m packing today. Didn’t plan to use it. I only wanted an ego boost—to add some swagger to my step. Make her remember my good parts.

Now I’m glad for the foresight. I fish a condom from my wallet, toss the foil away and roll the slick latex over my piece. She’s already warmed up, her hole wide from use. I slide the cock in to its base, straining until I know she feels the leather harness. Her entire body tenses and shakes from sudden penetration. I pull out and push in. Repeat. The motions are jerky and uneven, creating their own rhythm. Alice hooks her hands into my ass and pulls me farther in. We’re so close that I’m digging my nails into her shoulders, and I’m sure she can feel my sweat. Heat radiates off her. I can’t pull more than an inch out of her before she wraps her legs around my waist and draws us back together. She makes low, guttural noises that mix together with the sounds of my silicone phallus, pumping out her folds. We get faster and faster, one clumsy beast connected at the dick. I might lose myself inside her if it wasn’t for the anger getting dumped. As she shudders around me I think about Mr. Responsible Man, the guy she replaced me with. At least my penis is detachable, bet that’s something he can’t say.

I hear her orgasm, more than I feel it. That’s the downside of a strap-on. No nerve endings. She yells and sighs and I wonder if anyone can hear us, if they’ll come barging in at any moment. Whatever. I’m having fun.

“Get on your knees,” I tell her. She does, a bottom through and through. “Suck it.”

She rolls the condom off and licks the head before putting it in her mouth. I watch her suck and try to imagine how her boyfriend feels when she does this to him. I wind my fingers through her hair and guide her lips along. It looks hot. I strain forward and she takes it all.

Her hand wanders up my thigh and finds something it likes. I feel her go inside. She remembers what I like. It’s funny how I still feel like a man with her in my vagina. No contradiction between her sucking my cock and fingering my pussy. I’m so worked up from the stimulation and visuals that I finish right away in a little explosion of muscular contraction. Aftershocks reverberate up and down my body. I’m shaking, so far into sensation that I barely notice her move away.

We don’t speak. She stands, brushes off her pants before putting them back on. She avoids my eyes. I pull the dildo out of my harness and stuff it in my back pocket. It feels silly now, bouncing around. My underwear feels wet. We used to laze in bed for hours after sex, refusing to get dressed and face the world. When my world shrank down to her naked body and skin was our only barrier.

I pick up the deflated rubber and torn packaging, look around to see if we left anything else. There’s nothing on the floor, but I notice a little blinking red light coming from the ceiling. “Shit.”

“What is it?” she asks.

I point. The light is attached to a security camera painted to match the walls.

“Fuck,” she says. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Every word is ice. She’s glaring like I planned this. “I could get fired.” Alice teaches preschool. Forgot to mention that.

I squeeze my eyes shut. So much for afterglow.

“We have to do something.” She’s starting to panic. After panic comes yelling and I really want to avoid that.

“I’ve got it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Trust me, okay?” She doesn’t look convinced. “Can you find your way out? Meet me at the entrance.” With a little more cajoling I get her out the door. Then I wander back into the main factory and pace until something looks familiar. I make my way toward Gary’s office. The door’s locked. I drum my fists against it. No answer. “Open up. It’s me.”

Shuffling noises come through the wall, a couple steps and the door swings open. Gary’s standing there, alone, thank god. He looks flushed. Behind him lie a dozen monitors stacked unsteadily on his desk, showing different parts of the building.

“Give it,” I say.

“Give what?” His voice is husky. There’s a crumpled tissue on the floor.

“You know what I want.”

“Don’t think I do. Unless… did you want this?” He grabs a cassette from his desk and dangles it above my head. I know better than to jump—he’s six-four. Arms like a gorilla. “I can get into big trouble for losing security footage, you know?”

“Nobody looks at that shit but you.”

“Well, maybe I want a copy for personal use,” he teases. “Some hot, lesbian action for those long, lonely shifts.” He fakes jerking off and ends with a big explosion, sound effects and all. My friends are real mature. “Didn’t know you and Ali were even talking, let alone that.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass if you don’t give me the tape.”

“Big talk from the little dyke.” He hands it over with big cheesy grin. “You owe me one.”

“Deal.” I take the tape and run outside. I know I’m buying him beer for months. Maybe I should get Alice to chip in? Or maybe she shouldn’t know he saw.

Either way, I get it to her. She looks surprised.

“Am I good, or what?”

“You’re something all right.” There’s a glint in her eyes that I hope bodes well.

“You might want to watch it and make sure I got the right one.”

“I’ll do that.” The glint becomes a full-blown smile. Something tells me that tape isn’t headed for the furnace. I kind of want a copy but decide against pushing my luck.

“So, um, I guess I’ll see you around.” I run a hand through my cropped hair, not sure whether to give her a hug or a kiss or what.

Alice gives me a peck on the cheek. The contact feels awkward. We’ve changed since breaking up. Subtle changes, sure, but solid enough our bodies no longer fit. I walk her to the parking lot and watch her drive away. She got what she wanted from me, plus a souvenir. Lucky girl. Maybe she’ll watch it with her boyfriend.

Whatever. I don’t care. They can do what they want. The bus is a long way off. I turn my back on the industrialized landscape and start walking.