Best Lesbian Erotica 2012

THE LAST TIME Dani M

We haven’t spoken in hours. We’re both too afraid to say anything else. Everything that needed to be said was pretty much said. And then some. I’m packing my bags and politely moving out of your way to let you by—watching you to-ing and fro-ing around our bedroom, picking up your belongings as you go.

We are exhausted. Too exhausted to fight anymore. Now come the logistics of leaving the home that we’ve built together.

We’re oddly meek with each other now and both of us are wounded. Your fierce, athletic body moves and shuffles slowly around me… tired and labored. I know you’re more than a little bit frightened. I want so much to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s all broken down so badly. I’m sorry that it’s come to this.

That we’re not in love anymore.

What if I wrap you in my arms, where it’s safe, and tell you that it’s okay? That this can all be sorted out. That we’ll be okay.

But I can’t. It’s not okay. And we won’t be okay.

“Do you want this?” I ask, pathetically holding out a DVD I bought for you about six months ago.

“No, you keep it; you always liked that movie more than I did.” There’s a jibe at my taste in foreign movies. It’s a good time to take one, since you probably won’t ever have to watch questionable French comedy again.

The subtitles always annoyed you.

Sometimes you laughed, though.

Your comment, piss take or not, is said sweetly, and I see the kindness in your eyes that I recognize so well.

“You liked it, if I remember right? Funny how you told me to leave it on when I offered to put on something else.”

Now you really do laugh. Your face momentarily sheds the awful darkness around it and falls into a knackered, but genuine chuckle.

“Yeah, point taken. Well, can I have it then?” You give me your hand.

That little laugh. That breaks me a little bit. I smile at you now, weakly. An overwhelming ache makes itself at home in my chest. My usually powerful frame feels like hollow stone. One more gentle little laugh like that from you, and it may crumble in on itself.

Fighting is the easy part. We’ve put up a stellar effort, raging and battling into the early hours; watching the bond we created with such love and compassion strain to snapping point.

We don’t know where we’ll be tomorrow.

“Is she picking you up?” The words rattle out of my jaw, which I find is shaking as I speak, and the air goes against me, catching in my throat.

“No, no of course not. I’m getting the train. Alone.” Your eyes roll down and rest on the floor, and I see that they’re brimming with tears. Your face is fraught with worry and confusion, and your jaw quivers, uncertain.

Acid rises in my chest. There’s a falling feeling that keeps happening. Something’s knocking me down and dragging me under. Something’s pulling the blanket out from under me. And I keep faltering, every second, in time with my breathing. Drop. Drop. Drop.

I hold myself up. There’s a growing panic in my stomach that threatens to pull me into the floor.

You see it and move toward me as if to hush me. And I want you to. I need you to. In your usual, big-eyed and seductive way, you press yourself to me and wrap your muscular arms around my shoulders. You know just how to calm me, and your body is my best medicine right now.

This is my ground. Your high, heavy breasts and soft belly press into me, your face finds its way into my neck and the smell of you calms and soothes me in an instant. The smell of you hits me like some powerful drug, and I start to forget why I hate you.

And then I remember again.

My pride puts up a pointless fight against my body’s need for you. I let you come close to me, and you lock yourself to me, breathing me into you. I put my face in your neck, and my mouth finds its way to the beads that you’ve been wearing since we went surfing last summer. I used to bite on them.

Over my shoulder, hot splashes land on my back, trickling down my tank top. They leave a warm, damp line dribbling down my skin.

How did it get to this?

“Please don’t cry, baby.” The urge to protect you is a strong one, and it’s there now, more than ever.

Your hands run up and down my back, grabbing at my body. You’re shaking. I need to calm you now,and get you to relax. It’s gonna be okay. I put my hands to your face, the way I always used to when you fretted, and you impulsively kiss me. Your wet, tear-soaked mouth presses against mine, and despite myself, my tongue finds its way inside your lips. You moan and lick and lap at me, opening still wider to invite me deeper inside. I just can’t stop entering your pretty mouth. It always got me. And it’s getting me now. I drink you in and feel the effects of you all over me, and with a measure of desperation that I’ve never felt before, I taste you like it’s the very last time.

It is the last time.

You press and strain against your clothes to feel me, make contact with me. The hardness of your nipples against mine starts to make me feel giddy and sick. It’s too much. We have to stop this. It’s really not a good idea.

But I couldn’t stop now if I tried.

You pull back from me abruptly; your eyes look menacing. They’re pleading, and they’re violent—and I can’t look away.

“Fuck me.” Your eyes are black. I’ve never seen them like this.

I stare at you. Saying nothing. A different feeling is taking hold. And it’s between my legs.

Your face grows angrier, and you’re scared I’ll say no.

“Fuck me… please.”

I pull back still farther for a moment and watch you. My hands travel from your neck down the front of your body, moving over your agitated, heaving stomach faster than my mind can process what’s happening. Pressing my fingers into your abs, I hesitate for a moment, and then let my hand rest at the button on your jeans. Your breath is hot and damp in my face, and the shaking that you’re trying to suppress is taking you over.

“Turn around. And do exactly what I tell you.”

The words come out of my mouth before I can think better of them. There’s no argument from you, just an escaping moan that signals you’re already soaking, and you obediently turn around and bend over the bed.

“Down.” I push down hard on your back.

You know what’s expected of you, and you don’t argue. My big, strong butch needs to be topped one last time. Your back quivers as you become more and more unsure of yourself. Feeling vulnerable goes against your every instinct. I know this. I also know how much you need to. Hesitating for a moment, you try and compose yourself. Then, whimpering softly, you reach down to pull open your own belt.

“Good choice, baby.” I notice my own breathing is heavy.

You turn to see over your shoulder and catch my eye with a frantic and longing look. I’ve seen that before. This time though, it’s different. Flashes of anger and rage meet my gaze now. And this time, I’m not going to give you exactly what you want right away.

Freeing your jeans, I pull them down as far as your knees and kick your legs apart. You can’t move because of the way I have my legs between yours, so you resign yourself to what’s going to happen and press your palms into the mattress.

Sliding my hand into the front of your boxers, I find what I suspected. You’re soaking wet. Slowly stroking the hot, sticky juice over your clit, I enjoy the feeling of your desperately hard organ straining against my fingers. I know you could easily come now. But I’m making my rubbing maddeningly light, my languishing strokes toying with your hard-on. I feel the blood rushing to my own clit as I’m pressing and buffing your distressed nub, just enough to really torment you. You buck and grind on my hand, angrily attempting to get yourself off against it. That’s not happening this time either.

“You’ll come when I’m ready for you to come.” I withdraw my slick fingers from your swollen folds.

“Fuck you.” You spit at me through clenched teeth.

“Ah, there’s my girl. That’s not very nice, now is it? You’re not fucking me, baby. I’m fucking you.”

I smile at you darkly when your eyes meet mine.

“You bitch. Give it to me.”

You’re not happy. I can’t say I’m not. My own clit is throbbing with the need to be inside you, though. I’m holding it together, painfully conscious of the ache that’s building up in my belly. You’re vulnerable and pissed off, and watching you offer your ass up to me could throw me over the edge and make me come in my jeans.

I bear down on the cramp that’s building and feel a throbbing in the deepest part of myself. I have had about as much as I can take of making you wait, and I need to fuck you now.

The room fills with the sound of you gasping as I push three fingers inside your sopping hole. Twisting and grinding them into you, I use the full force of my arm to bury myself in you. Your greedy pussy meets me hungrily, sucking and lapping at my hand. I’ve always loved how sweet and tight you are. And I love it now, as your small pussy opens over my knuckles, slurping and spilling your juices over me. With my free hand, I push you facedown into the bed, and you obey, taking solace in the softness of the pillow while you thrust back up against my arm.

“More, baby, please.”

“Aren’t we a greedy girl?”

My girl.

For a second, my thoughts are interrupted by the reality of the situation, and I run my nails angrily down your back. As you cry out in pain, I put my mouth to your skin and lick the sweat from you. I can taste blood. This is my territory.

“Give it to me!” Your arms are erect and pulling at everything in reach. Dragging the sheets beneath you, you press and push yourself out violently to fuck me back. You know I’m gonna make this one hurt.

My jeans are soaked with the wetness escaping from my boxers. Adding my fourth finger and my thumb, I watch in awe as my fist disappears inside you, and I push down hard on your back, trying to steady myself as the sensation overwhelms my head and my heart. You gasp and suck at the air as my fist rolls and turns beneath your womb. I’m aware of sounds coming from my throat and I’m aware, too, that I’m about to come.

Guttural sounds escape from your chest as you cry out and thrust against my arm. My fist goes deeper into you, pushing you farther open as your tight ridges contract and throb around my hand.

Suddenly, I feel your swollen cunt gushing and spitting into my palm, pushing me over the edge completely. Cum flows over my tightly curled knuckles and down my wrist onto the bed beneath you. My clit finally finds its relief against my jeans as I press against you, and I fall against your back over our bed, for the last time. My fist is still buried in your belly, and you hold my arm to keep me there, rolling back and forth on me softly, lost in your thoughts.

There are tears in your hair.

And on your back.

I don’t want to move.