Lipstick Lesbians

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You’re reading on the deck.

I can’t wait any longer.

I watch you through the sliding glass door: sunglasses on your head, hoop earrings — not too large — and an open, white shirt; my invitation.

It’s been too long since we had time together.

Too long since we took it.

I miss it so.

You promised me last night, but last night you were too exhausted to start on your oath.

You swore things would be different, said to trust you, said that if I let myself go, you would teach me to release demons forever.

I want, no I long, to believe you.

I need to believe you like I need you to want me.

I couldn’t wait to wake up, but when I did you were gone, missing from our bed like it was just another work day.

It’s so hard to get you away from your schedule, even here. I felt wet and wanting; I was sad to open my eyes and miss the sunlight kissing your naked skin like it was in my dreams, like I was sure it would be when rising before you.

I never wake before you at home, what made me think I would here, in the middle of nowhere?

The middle of our new everything. 

In my mind, while putting myself to sleep, with you lightly snoring beside me, I pictured crawling between your legs before you woke, planting my pouted lips on your puffy, pink pussy, and waking you up as my tongue stabbed your hole. I longed to paint your body with my breasts as a brush, plant trails of kisses with my soft lips before meeting your mouth in mutual pleasure; watch you taste you from the juice on my tongue.

You promised: no work, no phone, no clients.

You and me and nothing else.

The four-hour drive took forever, but it felt like a day to the year in the two weeks since the moment you promised we’d get away.

You were business on the drive, eyes on the road and foot on the pedal, determined, even as I opened your shirt and teased your nipples.

I was soaking as we parked, dripping when you turned the key, craving you. I said I understood, of course could wait until morning. I closed my eyes and started dreaming, then woke and you were gone.

Now you’re outside.

I grab my aviator glasses — the ones you said make you want to fuck me — then put them on my face so there’s at least one thing on my otherwise naked body, then go outside to get what I wanted last night.

You look up, close your book, and give me your eyes, lifting your hands over your head as you smile. All of you is here, I feel it.

Motion parts your shirt and shows me one breast, nipple hard as it kisses the air, misty from a morning that sits like a lid on our lake.

I wonder how long you’ve been up; you look clean, scrubbed, and ready. I’m horny enough to climb on your face. I’m wearing a glisten, both thighs sticky as I saunter toward you, nipples hard and pointing, like yours.

You stare at approach, eyes never leaving mine, even though you can’t see behind the shades.

I climb on your lounge chair, crawling on all fours toward you. I brush the hair from my face, then lean in to kiss you.

Our lips meet, and you brush your hand on my shoulder.

I draw back, pull off my glasses, then set them on the lounge beside us. I can see your soak, seeping from the sides of your black bottoms, and realize it’s you who’s been patient this morning.

You part your legs, just enough for me to scoot between them, then softly kiss me again. I brush my lips down your body, between the small breasts I couldn’t love any more, then down the length of your morning-kissed skin to your pussy.

I stop at your bottoms, kissing around them while gently brushing my palm against your pussy, drawing warmth from your body and a smile from your face.

I untie your bottoms, lightly undressing you as your fingers tickle your breasts.

Freed from the fabric, I fall between your legs.

This is so soft, so out of routine.

You reach down to hold my hand as I pet you with my tongue. No hurry or aggression, our movement placid like the lake behind us.

You fondle your breasts and part your legs wider. I lift my head, still not in a hurry.

You widen your wingspan as I drop your bottoms to the floor, then slip a finger inside you, kissing you at the top of your pussy, while sticking my pointer deep into your sticky hole.

I kiss rather than suck, dig rather than thrust.

You lift your pelvis while I treat your pussy like a mouth: teasing, pulling, and lightly sucking. You close your eyes and lean back, head tilted to the sky’s blue as I kiss your sticky center.

I push my finger deeper, down to the knuckle, keeping my rhythm slow. You want me to go faster, but I insist on taking the time that was promised.

Your body rises and falls, my hands want to wander.

Your tits are firm under hand as you push them together, teasing with your fingers, brushing circles, pinching and pulling the nipples.

Below, in the heaven between your legs, I’m getting sloppy with my kissing. I’m not rough like a man, and never will be, but I know what you like: hard, insistent, strong.

So I make myself messy, pushing my lips and tongue into your cunt, leaving enough drool between your legs that it’s impossible to know which juices are mine and which are yours.

I pull back, lapping at your open flaps, hard with the flat of my tongue. You squirm and whimper.

I smile.

Your hands drift down from your breasts to my face; you push your mouth harder against me.

I’m driving you mad, refusing to go faster.

I can smell how much you want me; your scent is strong in the morning mist. But you can’t have me like you want me, at least not yet. I continue to gently lick you, almost too gently: You want me hard, but I want you soft.

Our hands meet again, then braid, my left in your right. You stay to the side of my head, until a thrust from my tongue sends a river of shivers through your body.

Your arm flails above your head as you whimper; you writhe and moan and wiggle, begging for more without using words.

I leave your pussy and crawl toward your face, elbows flat on the cushion and planting kisses on my way. I stop at your breast, cupping it, then set my tongue to dancing around your rock-hard nipple.

You rise toward me, hungry.

Our mouths are magnets while I undress you, pulling the white shirt from your lithe body, and dropping it to the ground by your bottoms.

After kissing you softly, I pick up pillows and toss them away from your body, toward the foot of the mattress, then swing my leg around you and swivel my ass toward your face.

I take my time and gently lower my ass, teasing you, waiting until I hear whispered breath from your labored panting. I feel you want me, like I want you, then lower myself the rest of the way, planting my soaking pussy onto the heat of your mouth.

You grip my dripping mound with your lips, then push up against my thighs, shoving my cunt deeper into your mouth.

You’re grateful for your turn.

Me, too. 

I writhe into your face as your body wiggles. You mash your face up against me, getting it wet and sticky and soaking, pushing it harder against me, flicking your tongue in and out of my hole, moaning into my heat and making me want you more.

If that were possible. 

I love how you eat me; I want your face in me always.

I squirm and squeal, surprised by an orgasm, earlier than expected and crashing harder than it should. My squeal turns to scream, and I fall onto your body, planting my tits on your tummy as I moan.

I love our 69, using our mouths in tandem.

You’re rougher than I am; I’m still kissing you gently, alternating between fingers and kisses, both soft. Though gentle with my mouth, I’m slamming my pussy against your lips, begging for the opposite.

I’ve never been shy, and don’t mind being loud. Here, far from our life in the solace you promised, I want to scream.

And so I do.

The world comes alive; the lake ripples at my voice.

You’re over-sensitive, like I love to see you. I plunge deep, my tongue a spear, thrusting hard, as deep as I can go.

We cum together, and this is what I live for.

Your lips stay on my pussy, and mine on yours; nothing better than pleasure sustained.

We add fuel to the fire, unwilling to pause perfection.

You use your fingers to send me into another orgasm, then you plunge me through it, slowing only with my breath, gently bringing me down like a feather falling from a bird to the ground.

Both calm, I climb off of your body and watch you crawl toward me. I lie on my back, and scoot up beside you. You spread my legs and plant your soft hands on either side of my head.

Our mouths meet again.

Your torso pushes into me as I lift my head from the mattress to meet more of your mouth. Our kiss is long and soft and beautiful.

I lower my back, then you plant yourself on top of me, kissing my neck before leaving it wanting, and laying kisses down my body, brushing your lips past my belly button, lightly massaging my skin with your hot hands, and teasing me with the gentle promise of so much to come.

Thank you for keeping your word, taking me here to the middle of nowhere, the lake our only witness. We’ve brought no work, phone, or schedule; we’ve brought nothing but a well-lived life.

I know I’m in love because I don’t want to sleep; I only want to inhale you. You swore things would be different, said to trust you, and I did. Thank you for teaching me.

I’m yours, however you want me.




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1 Comment

  1. What a hot story! The mysticism and style is new and hot, Lexi! I don’t usually like this kind of story but it made me stop what I was doing and fantasise…..excellent. 10/10


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