Drifting

Holding Rita's cunt open with her fingers, Jul tickled the entrance with her tongue. Rita was running like a brook again, the plentiful sap seeping out of her to flow over Jul's tongue in a thick stream. She lapped it up, loving the smell and taste of it, her nose rubbing Rita's clit from side to side.

"Oh, that's lovely," Rita groaned. "Just keep doing me like that."

* * *

Rita sixteen years ago in Paris. Twenty years old and determined to be cosmopolitan. Her college friend, a nervous little blonde named Mary, has returned home to Ohio after a spat about Rita's unwillingness to be economical. I never liked her, Rita thinks; I never liked her anyway. She's happy to be alone. She loves Paris. Now she's sitting on the terrace of a cafe on the Boulevard Haussmann. The people are so interesting. Sophisticated. Glamorous. The clothes they wear so perfect for them. That woman. Rita fixes her eyes on a brunette, dark eyes, aristocratic bones, a simple black sweater set off by a single strand of pearls. The woman is maybe forty, perfect makeup, hair in a chignon. Exquisite, Rita thinks; such an exquisite presence. Now the woman turns her head. Their eyes meet. An appraisal. Then a turning away. Only a few moments later, the woman looks at Rita again. A slight questioning smile as she finds Rita is still staring at her.

An hour later, Rita holds a glass of champagne in an elegant house on the Ile St. Louis. Sylvie, known formally as Madame Duclos, smiles at Rita and says: "It's much too hot to sit in the garden. You don't mind, do you?" She speaks English with an accent half British and half French. How charming.

Rita doesn't mind at all. Anywhere will do. Sylvie had earlier invited Rita to sit in her garden, but now that Rita was in the house she was too overwhelmed with its elegance to care about trifles. Every stick of furniture looks like an antique!

Sylvie's husband, referred to as "Bernard" by Sylvie, is evidently in Rome on business. Rita wonders if these people are royalty. Sylvie could be a countess. A woman with a fabulous presence, an awesome aura. But even so, Rita isn't naive enough not to understand the essence of things. She knows what Sylvie wants. Little Rita has been around the track enough times to know exactly what Sylvie wants. So when Sylvie pours more champagne, then hands the glass to Rita and follows that by stroking the backs of her fingers across Rita's cheek, Rita blushes, smiles, and accepts the caress.

Later, in Sylvie's pink boudoir (more antiques!), Rita accepts everything. She lies sprawled on the four-poster bed as Sylvie undresses her. She folds her knees back at a hint from Sylvie, and then she gasps as she feels Sylvie's mouth claim her wetness.

Rita gazes up at the canopy of the four-poster bed. An adventure in Paris, she thinks. This alone is worth the price of the plane ticket. With a groan, she gently closes her thighs around Sylvie's head.

* * *

Bobo said: "You want a beer, Marlo? There's cold beer in the fridge."

Bobo was a big, brawny woman in a white shirt, jeans, and sneakers. She ran a ski lift in winter, and in summer she drove a truck delivering gravel to anyone who wanted it. She had a house in Reston, a town ten miles north of Milson Corners, and with her in the house she had a wife called Millie. Today, when Marlo visited, there was a third woman there, a nervous creature named Cheryl, already known to Marlo, thirty-five maybe, tender eyes and soft breasts under a frilly blouse.

Cheryl was nervous because she was married, had a husband and family in a neighboring town, and she would just die if anyone she didn't trust discovered her with Bobo.

Marlo had never paid much attention to Cheryl, no more than an occasional glance at the movements of her breasts, and she was not paying much attention now. She found a beer in the frig and returned to the cluttered living room where Millie was serving cold baloney and cheese on paper platters.

"Eat something," Bobo said to Marlo. "You won't get fat eating baloney."

Marlo shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

"Then play with Cheryl." Bobo waved her arm at Cheryl. "Cheryl, honey, you're always telling me how much you like Marlo. Well, there she is. Go sit on her lap."

Cheryl blushed, the order putting her in a quandary because she always did what Bobo told her to do and yet she was too shy to be forward with Marlo.

"Go on," Bobo ordered. "Marlo won't bite you, unless it's in the right place." Bobo laughed, her huge breasts shaking under her shirt.

Cheryl walked over to Marlo. But instead of sitting on Marlo's lap, she sat next to Marlo on the sofa. When Cheryl leaned forward, the low neckline of her loose blouse showed the valley between her soft breasts.

Marlo looked at Bobo. "I may be driving down to New York next week. You need anything?"

Bobo shrugged. "Yeah. Have a look at my sister."

Bobo had a sister in Brooklyn. In a wheelchair.

"Sure," Marlo said.

When Millie finished in the kitchen, she returned to Bobo, and Bobo took Millie on her lap. The sun was down, the room getting dark, but Bobo said the dark was better than the bugs and they could wait awhile for the lamp. So they sat that way in the growing darkness.

Bobo told Marlo she could have Cheryl if she wanted her. "Just while you're here."

Marlo chuckled. "Maybe she'll come home with me," she teased.

"The hell she will," Bobo said. "Go on, take her. She's dying for it. Millie and me, we'll watch."

Marlo hadn't come to Bobo's for sex, but it was never easy to refuse Bobo anything. What Cheryl wanted didn't matter, because Cheryl was more or less Bobo's slave and she would do whatever Bobo wanted her to do.

Bobo urged Marlo to get on with it. She had Millie cuddled in her lap as she told Marlo how much Cheryl talked about Marlo. "She's nuts about you," Bobo said.

Marlo was amused. Maybe it would be good to get distracted, stop thinking about that New York girl. For the past week she hadn't thought about anything except Beth. Marlo now felt she'd been crazy to let Beth get away like that. She looked at Cheryl and slowly pulled out the neckline of Cheryl's blouse to expose more of Cheryl's breasts. Even in the darkness, she could see Cheryl's beauties.

"Cheryl!" Bobo boomed.

Cheryl trembled. "Yes?"

"You do what I say, don't you?"

"You know that, Bobo."

"Turn on one of the lamps and get your clothes off. Come on, honey, move it."

Nervous, Cheryl looked at the windows. "I'll pull the shades."

"The hell with the shades, we're in the woods. Nothing out there except hoot owls."

They all blinked in the light when Cheryl switched on one of the lamps. Bobo sent Millie to get some music on the stereo and bring some cold beer. "Christ, I feel like a party," Bobo said. "Come on, Cheryl, get stripped."

Millie brought the beer, and after that Cheryl stripped to the waist and danced for them. She had done if for Bobo before, but with the window shades up she found it a little frightening. And more exciting than usual because Marlo was there. She kept her eyes on Marlo as she danced, her breasts in her hands, her torso bucking and weaving.

"I told you she's good," Bobo said, meaning Cheryl, or maybe she meant Millie. Bobo had her cock out, and Millie was squatting over her lap to take it. Marlo felt the rising heat in her belly as she watched Bobo swallow half a breast as Millie sat down on her dildo. "Good girl," Bobo said.

Everything was visible, Millie's ass, the cock spearing her spread labia, Bobo's meaty hands clutching at Millie's buttocks. Cheryl continued dancing, and Marlo's eyes moved from one part of the room to the other as she watched it all.

I don't know what I want, Marlo thought. Oh yes, she did know. She wanted Beth. None of this meant anything, because what she really wanted was Beth.

* * *

Jul did not believe in monogamy. As much as she loved Rita, Jul found it impossible to restrict her sex life to one woman. Because she knew Rita would be enraged if she ever discovered her adventures with other women, Jul kept all her liaisons a dark secret, even from her good friends. Fortunately, there were enough lesbian women in New York to make such a secret life possible.

One afternoon, Jul left the school where she worked and she rode a taxi to Fifth Avenue to do some shopping in a department store. As she looked through a rack of blouses, she noticed a saleswoman busy at a rack not too far away. The woman was blonde and busty, with cropped hair and bangs, and large colorful earrings. She was maybe fifty, with a look of energetic efficiency that Jul always found attractive in a woman. When their eyes met, when they gazed a long moment at each other, Jul realized the woman was a dyke.

Jul was immediately interested. Those heavy breasts. She imagined herself sucking the fat nipples. She felt a flush of desire as she thought of herself and the woman together. She turned away to look for another blouse to try on in the dressing room, and then suddenly she heard a feminine voice close by at her side.

"Can I help you?" the saleswoman said.

Surprised, Jul quickly recovered and nodded. "I thought I'd try these on. What about this one? I don't know the label."

They chatted casually about clothes awhile, the saleswoman helping Jul select two more blouses, and then Jul went off to the dressing room to try them on.

While Jul was in the dressing room wearing one of the new blouses, the saleswoman popped her head in to ask if Jul needed any help.

Jul said: "Do you have this one in black?"

"Yes, I think so. I'll bring it."

When the saleswoman returned, she found Jul stripped to the waist, Jul without a stitch above her skirt as she waited for the new blouse.

The blonde woman's eyes were hot as they raked over Jul's insignificant breasts and strong shoulders, but the blonde retained her composure. "Here, I think this will be perfect on you. I'm sorry I broke in."

"No, stay."

Their eyes met, and with a slight smile the saleswoman stepped into the room and pulled the curtain behind her. "Let me help you with the blouse."

As the saleswoman unbuttoned the blouse on the hanger, Jul stood facing the mirror with her dark little nipples like two turrets pointing forward.

Jul said: "I'm sorry, but I don't like bras."

The saleswoman's looked at Jul, her eyes flicking over Jul's compact breasts. "I don't mind. Are you an athlete?"

"An athlete? No, I'm not, I'm a school teacher."

"You look very athletic."

"I work out at a gym club."

"It shows. All those muscles."

"Mmm."

As the saleswoman helped Jul slip into the blouse, their bodies touched for the first time.

"My name is Sally," the blonde said.

Jul met her eyes in the mirror. "I'm Jul. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I'd like to ball you."

Always the confident butch. You get nothing unless you try for it, Jul thought.

A long moment of silence, their eyes locked. And then Sally said: "I'm off on Thursday."

* * *

Jul eleven years ago in a bar in the West Village. She's dancing with a girl named Michelle, a girl with wild frizzy hair and full red lips. Michelle wears a loose peasant blouse and a long skirt; Jul wears 501s and a blue cotton shirt with full sleeves.

Michelle says: "You're Italian, aren't you?"

Jul shrugs. "Only part Italian. I'm really French."

Michelle looks coy. "You look Italian enough. Italian butches turn me on." She pulls back and shakes her shoulders to the music. "What do you do?"

"I'm a teacher."

"Are you any good?"

"Sometimes."

"I don't mean teaching."

"I know what you mean."

Michelle makes a sound as though she's just tasted a chocolate sundae. They stop dancing and stand at the edge of the crowded dance floor. Michelle talks about her advertising job. Then she says: "You know what? I think we ought to go somewhere and fuck. We can go to my place."

"All right."

"But I mean I want you to fuck me. Do you use a strap-on?"

Jul hasn't ever, but she's hot for this girl, eager to experience Michelle's intensity. "I don't have it with me," Jul says.

"Don't worry, I have everything at home. God, I bet you're good. Yeah, I can tell."

Overwhelmed by the girl, hoping she won't make a fool of herself, Jul leaves with Michelle to go to Michelle's Upper East Side apartment.

As they ride uptown in a taxi, Michelle grabs Jul's hand and pulls it between her legs. "Come on, do something."

Jul is uneasy because of the driver, but she gets her hand under Michelle's loose skirt and into Michelle's crotch. She rubs Michelle's cunt through her panties, and Michelle starts coming almost immediately.

Jul is tremendously excited by the girl's orgasm.

When the come is finished, Michelle leans her head on Jul's shoulder. "I always go off like dynamite," Michelle says, her voice softer now. "Boom boom. Quick. You did it just right."

The driver seems oblivious to anything happening behind him.

Finally, Jul and Michelle arrive at Michelle's apartment building on Eighty-third Street. Jul pays the taxi driver. Inside the building, Jul and Michelle share the elevator with a silent couple, a man and woman in their fifties. Jul imagines she can smell Michelle's come; she feels claustrophobic. At last she and Michelle exit the elevator and leave the couple behind.

Michelle has a small studio apartment. Neat but small. As soon as the shades are pulled, Jul and Michelle are in a hot clinch near the sofa. They drop down to the rug, kissing and tearing at Michelle's clothes. Michelle pulls away to strip everything off. She has slender shoulders and full drooping breasts, a combination that excites Jul.

Michelle says: "Don't go away. Just wait for me."

Jul sits on the rug and waits. She looks at the room, her heart beating with excitement, anticipation, satisfaction that she was able to connect tonight.

Michelle returns with a pink rubber dildo and a harness.

"Here's the dick," Michelle says, rubbing it across her bare breasts. "Would you do me a favor?"

"Okay."

"If you wear it under the jeans with just the dick sticking out, that really turns me on."

Jul takes the cock and harness to the bathroom.

At least Michelle is clean. The neat bathroom is testimony.

Michelle drops her jeans. This is her first time with a strap-on, and she's wondering if she ought to consider the politics. Well, screw the politics, she thinks. No, she's about to screw Michelle. She wags the rubber cock in front of her belly to see the effect. She dons the harness, secures the straps with the cock in place through the hole, the cock bobbing as if it's alive. She feels the excitement now. She pulls up her 501s, buttons the fly around the cock. One button undone is enough, the cock sticking out like a thick pink baton.

She looks at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. What she sees makes her so hot she trembles.

Yeah, she thinks.

She returns to the living room with the cock wagging.

Michelle is naked on the sofa, her eyes hot as she stares at Jul.

"God, I love it," Michelle says. She spreads her legs, rubbing her pussy as she looks at Jul. "How do you want me?"

Jul gazes at the dark cunt. Hairy. Jul loves hair. Michelle's hair is so thick, the lips of her cunt are hardly visible. "Right there," Jul says. She pushes Michelle back on the sofa, getting her legs up, stroking her thighs.

Michelle groans as she stares at the cock. She slides both hands down to her pussy to hold her lips open.

After pulling back a bit, Jul takes hold of the cock and she guides the tip into Michelle's leaking cunt.

Michelle groans again, her knees folded all the way back to her breasts as she says: "Fuck me deep and hard."

Jul starts moving, thrusting, sliding the cock in and out.

She learns.

She feels the intense excitement. She loves it. She decides she loves fucking a girl with a cock. She loves the power she has. The raw fucking power. I love it, she thinks.

* * *

Thursday afternoon at the Plaza Hotel, and Jul and blonde Sally were riding up an elevator to a room. They were both already mellow from cocktails at the bar. Jul considered it worth the money. She needed this. She needed variety in her life, this tingling feeling because this was sex with someone she hardly knew and she found that exciting. Why not? Safety with a closet dyke from New Jersey. The excitement of a new conquest. I'm just not the domestic type, Jul thought. Rita would never understand. Rita would throw her out if she ever discovered it.

Jul smiled at Sally. They were alone in the elevator, and without haste Jul rubbed the back of her hand over one of Sally's bulging breasts. The tit bulging in her red blouse.

The excitement showed in Sally's face as Jul kept her hand there.

Jul said: "I'd like to suck these for about an hour."

Sally shuddered with pleasure. "Oh Jesus."

Finally they were at the room. As soon as they were inside, Jul pulled back and acted more reserved in order to get Sally begging for it. Jul said there was no need to close the blinds; there was nothing out there except the park. She thought Sally would look good in the sunlight. She approached the blonde and gave her a lingering kiss at the corner of her lips. Then Jul moved away again.

Her nervousness showing, Sally babbled about the beautiful view of the park. "I've never been in this hotel before."

Jul moved in again. This time the kiss was hotter, but Jul still held back her tongue.

"I'm hot for you," Jul said.

Another kiss. Now Jul's tongue slid into Sally's mouth, her tongue fucking into the blonde's mouth until Sally groaned against her lips.

Jul's fingers started working at the buttons of Sally's blouse. One by one, the buttons came undone, Jul leaning back, both of them watching Jul's hands. She pulled the blouse out of the waistband of Sally's skirt and spread it apart.

Sally's heavy breasts were contained by a white lace bra.

Jul said: "Go on, unhook it."

Sally blushed as she reached back to unhook her bra. In a moment, the big breasts bounced out like a pair of pillows.

Jul took them in her hands, stroked them, lifted them, her thumbs rubbing the wide pink nipples.

Sally closed her eyes and hissed.

At last Jul raised a tit high and dropped her mouth to suck.

She made love to the breast with her hands as she sucked, her fingers stroking, pressing, teasing the abundant flesh.

Then she stopped. "Wait for me," Jul said. "I'll be back soon."

Sally blew Jul a kiss as Jul walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Jul closed the door and stripped off her school clothes, everything off until she was naked. She removed a black dildo and harness from her purse and wrapped the straps around her body. She watched herself in the mirror. Watching herself donning her cock always made her hot.

Then she rummaged in her purse again, brought out a tube of K-Y, opened it, and then carefully smeared some of the gel on the latex dildo. Only enough to make it gleam.

When she returned to the bedroom, she found Sally naked on the bed and waiting for her.

Sally froze when she saw the cock.

"Oh, that's crazy," Sally said, her eyes fixed on the swaying black dildo.

"Haven't you ever?"

"Not like that. Not when it's worn like that."

Jul was amused. She liked Sally. She was sweet. Blonde and busty and with skin like silk. A suburban closet dyke rattled by a dildo. Jul took her cock in her hand and said: "It's better this way. I bet you're going to love it."

Sally squirmed on the bed. "What I like is getting licked."

Jul smiled as she climbed onto the bed between Sally's legs. "I like doing that too."

She went down on Sally, her face burrowing into the plump little trench, her tongue finding the stream and her lips drinking from it.

Sally moaned.