The Best Erotic Stories.

The Cafe
by Crew Cut

Tired, aching feet. Needing massaging. That's the worst aspect of my job - waiting tables in an inner city café. Latte, cappuccino, short black, long black, macchiato, flat white....Turkish bread, bagels, long rolls, sesame seed rolls, white sliced..... From 10.30 am to 7 pm most days. Good days with tips, bad days when a customer does a runner. But the worst is the feet!

And the best? The one day when I got to do some research. Action research, that is. I'm writing the Great Australian Lesbian Bodice-Ripper (or is that clit-licker?). The best day happened one day last summer.

I suppose I'd better explain my waiting technique. This is the one reserved for when the Gaydar starts beeping off the screen. It used to be "Serve from the right, clear from the left", but now it's tables jam-packed together, and do the best you can. Somedays, just sometimes, getting up close to gorgeous women makes the nipples firm and the jeans wet.

This day, in walked a tall, good-looking woman. She plonked her backpack down at one of the outside tables, slipping the straps off her muscular shoulders. Her singlet top barely covered her braless, firm and rounded breasts. Cut-off jeans shorts, long athletic legs (immediately thinking about them wrapped around my neck!). She wore a single clear glass earring in one ear, a row of studs and gold sleepers in the other. Tousled, untidy short hair framed an open, smiling face. This gal's hair was curling around the nape, 2 inches all over. Seen better days, perhaps (like 8 weeks ago?).

She sat down next to her pack, facing towards the door, and half-turned to the street.

My nipples pointed out through my T-shirt. My face felt flushed. I smiled and asked her what I could get her. "Latte and raisin toast" she replied, returning my smile.. Aha - a breakfaster - looked like she's just arrived on the train at the central station around the corner.

I retreated inside and thought this through. Not in the habit of picking up customers. Not even sure she was a dyke. Gawd. Lust swamped me. I was throbbing...that inexplicable electricity of pure desire took hold.

Decided to try the Look Straight Into Her Eyes technique. I took out her coffee first..Shit. She had taken out a book..didn't even look up. Absorbed. A minute later I returned with the food. She had placed the book face-down, spine-up on the table. "Death by the Riverside" by J.M. Redman! One of my favourite dyke authors. "Now, now, say something NOW". For the first time I was caught for word. "Good book?" I stumbled.

"Oh, yeah" she replied, in a slow drawl. She then picked up the book and began to read again, holding the book in her left hand as she picked up a slice of toast in her right.

I retreated inside and took up a position where I could admire her, well, admire is a bit mild...slaver, drool and fantasise would be more accurate! I wanted to slide my hand up her thigh and slip it into one leg of those sexy shorts. I could imagine her wet bush and pulsating clit (I could feel my own!). I wanted to touch her nipples through her singlet, tweaking and rubbing them till she pushed my face onto them, pulling the top down to expose them fully. My tongue would flick and lick those brown, hard nipples...rolling them, scaping my stud over them, depressing them firmly....pushing them inwards, then sucking them out loooooong and gently nibbling the back of them.

I imagined her smooth toned pinching her buttocks and probing her hole...gently(at first) pulling her buttocks apart and pushing them together...

I looked up with a start and saw her looking for her purse. Plate and glass empty...ready to go. I sauntered coolly (oh yeah?) outside. "Ready for your bill?" She nodded assent, and I wrote the total on the order pad, tore it off and placed it on the table. As I did, my hand brushed, barely, against her arm. The hairs stood out on BOTH our arms.

"Er..." she started. "I couldn't help noticing your hair".

My hand immediately jumped to my head, brushing my palm across its spiky bristles. Here I have to explain that I have a bit, well, let's be honest here, a BIG fetish for short short, barely-there hair. Dykes with buzz cuts, flattops, crew cuts, little boy cuts with short back and sides...But you knew that already! You didn't? Oh, well, I get it shaved every 2 weeks, sometimes more, if there's a lover around into holding the clippers. Number One buzz, with a wisp of fringe at the front. And, I like my lovers the same.

"I've been on the road a few weeks," she said, "and I REALLY need a haircut." Yes, I thought, you do (for me). "Can you tell me where you get yours done?"

"Oh, sure," I said, and gave her directions to my butchgal cutter's shop. I opened my mouth to talk some more, maybe ask where she was from, where she was going to, when she said "Thanks," put the money down on the table, smiled, stood up, shrugged on her backpack and said, "Bye."

Oh, yeah, that's right, you great stud dyke...let one slip away. I was so tempted to run after her, but the café was filling and my attention was sought by a large party of office girls and guys at the next table. Young men in suits, girls in tight pastel suits, or black, skirts riding high on thighs, long STRAIGHT hair falling over their eyes, or permed. Probably a lipstick D amongst that lot, but who could tell?

I went out that night, looked meaningfully into my beer, and went home alone to surf the net and work the vibrator till the batteries went kaput. Couldn't get sexyshorts out of my mind.

Next day, run off my feet (oh, the ache) I rushed outside carrying a plate, and "bang" straight into a customer looking for a chair. Her dark, smouldering eyes looked right into mine. "Hi," she smiled. One large rainbow earring fell from her lobe. And her hair! Ever seen a magenta-colored crew cut? Like a recruit into some great dyke army!

"You get a break soon?" she asked.

"In 5 minutes I'm finished," I blushed. I reached out and touched her hair. I couldn't help it. Her pupils dilated, her hips moved, almost imperceptibly closer to me. She winked and I circled my mouth with an index finger, sucked it, and placed it against her lips. She drew it into her mouth, sucked it out again and said, "5 minutes!"

We agreed to go home to my place...walking distance. I couldn't stand the agony of walking so close and not touching. In broad daylight, in the middle of my town, I pushed my hand down the back of her shorts, and stroked the crack of her ass. No panties. She moaned. We were passing a small park, and she steered me into it. Noone around. We found a secluded spot amongst some trees.

She whispered, "My name is Marijke...yours?"

"Sue", I gasped. We fell onto the grass, kissing wildly, passionately, tongues exploring the softness of each others' mouths, thrusting down throats...she tore my T-shirt from me...traced the rose tattoo on my left tit, flicked the nipple rings and ate my tits in precisely the way I had imagined eating hers! I undid her shorts, and pushed my hand down the front, desperately searching her pussy. She was as wet as I. Drenched with the moisture of lust and heightened arousal. I pulled her shorts off, as she wriggled and writhed. She humped my leg as she continued to chew my breasts, flicking, sucking, licking, rolling, pulling. My fingers probed her pussy hole...slipping two easily inside the slippery wetness. She looked into my eyes and suggested I take off my trousers. She got off me and pulled them from the ankles. Pushed her face against my panty-covered cunt, and pulled my panties off with her teeth.

Both naked, sun on our skin, moaning, exposed but in a private world. We clasped each other and rolled on the soft, mossy grass. Neither of us cared who was top, who bottom....we were clamped together. I made the first move and as she lay on her back, I sat on her face, leaned forward and buried my face in her cunt. We reflected each others' moves. She sucked, I sucked. I flick flick flick flick flicked her clit, she did likewise. My tongue stiffened and pushed into her wet hot hole. I ran my tongue along her clit, stopping to circle the electric tip....she did the same. She trailed her tongue along my clit, and plunged it deep inside, then repeated over and over...languidly, then insistently. Our hips gyrated and ground into each others' faces.

I removed my tongue and pushed 4 fingers high into her cunt. She gasped, taken by surprise. She responded by rimming my asshole with a finger, and then pushing inside, all the while continuing to eat me.

Pumping and fucking, oblivious to the world...and then, a joyous, flow of wet, pulsing and throbbing, shuddering and shivering. Then, screaming...I know, I know, here we were fucking ourselves senseless in a public park, then screaming like whores. Then, laughing, and clasping our clothes to ourselves as we let go and a passing couple came to investigate the screams!

"Oh, Jude, Linda .... Hi!" I laughed.

"Meet my friend Marijke. She's visiting from....ummmm"

"Holland," she finished for me. "Pleased to meet you!"

Jude and Linda met us at the girl-bar that night, after we'd been home to my place, showered, fucked, showered, got Marijke's pack from the hostel, fucked, said fuck-it to another shower - what's wrong with sex smell!, dressed (in plain singlet-strapped t-shirt dresses, no underwear....good for a quick get-out), taken turns with my strap-on, got dressed again and finally left the house.

Good thing I could suck her tits on the dance floor while she rubbed her hands over my bristles, she could toe my cunt in the booth, staring at each other over beers, good thing we could slow-dance holding each others' asses, pulling our pussies together.

"Just goes to show the power of a good haircut," we laughed with my friends. "How could femmes ever find each other?" we joked.

Maybe one of you will write and tell and my lover Marijke. Her visa runs out soon...but she'll be back. Good thing the government accepts same-sex partners now for immigration!

She doesn't mind being in my book. What's a book after an initial tryst in the park!!


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