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Katia’s cunt tastes like wet dirt and salt, and it doesn’t matter that Evie doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do because as soon as she finds that little knot of flesh she hooks on to it, sucking it into her mouth, and Katia is grabbing the back of her head and grinding against her chin and she can feel Katia’s cunt spasming against her tongue. The girls stagger to their feet, eyes blurred and knees unsteady. They rearrange their clothes without looking, awkward around each other’s nakedness, and walk away from the garage.

As they reach the bottom of the hill, the first drops of a summer storm land on their shoulders. It’s cool against their heat-swollen skin, slicking their hair against their heads; droplets slide down their backs. They raise their faces to the sky. The crackle of heat fades and the smell of earth rises up around them. By the time they get back to their men, the rain has washed them clean.

HUSH

Treasure Sapphire

She is smiling at me from across the room, teeth bared possessively, assured of the power that she has over me. Our eyes are locked and though there are dozens, maybe even a hundred women swarming and writhing around us, we can only see each other.

She brings the long neck of a beer bottle to her lips and drinks, never breaking her eye contact with me. I press an unlit cigarette to my lips, an invitation, and in no time she is standing before me, head cocked charmingly to one side, lighter flickering in her palm. She ignites me. I thank her.

She is shorter than I am, a solid five six to my lanky five nine but what she lacks in height she more than makes up for in cockiness. Her short black hair frames her tanned face perfectly, and I can tell by the way that she rolls her r’s that she is not American. She asks me my name and I lean forward and whisper syllables into her ear: “Loretta.” She nods and I offer my ear to her into which she whispers “Lu-ca,” spreading the word into two. I drop my cigarette to the floor and she expertly crushes the cherry beneath the heel of her boot.

She turns to leave and I follow. There are no words exchanged. We slip into a darkened hallway, where she pushes me gently against the wall. I let her hold me there, relinquishing my power for just a moment. Her hand snakes around me, pulling me closer, and I know that she can feel it pressing into her. Her gasp is tinged with confusion and arousal.

Suddenly a thick band of white light envelops us; two giggling women walk past and we duck into the restroom they’ve just left. I can see her clearly now. See him. Luca. He is wearing a tight black shirt, breasts undoubtedly bound beneath it, a pair of tight black jeans and combat boots. His body is muscular and rolling, even golden color all over.

I step back to let him see me: the skintight red dress, the matching red lipstick and the hair that cascades down my back. He lunges at me, lips against mine, pressing my bare back onto the cold tiles of the bathroom wall. He grinds his hips into me as he expertly lowers the top of my dress, freeing my breasts. I can feel the warmth of his tongue and then the heat of his breath playing over my swollen nipples. I wrap my hand around his head and hold him there. His other hand sneaks up my smooth thigh, pushing my dress aside, and I can hear his hoarse breathing as he pulls down my panties. He is staring at the delicate straps that hug my hips, his fingers curled around the tip of my length.

I look into the mirror and see myself half naked, pressed into the wall with Luca staring down at my cock, and my clit begins to throb. Before I even have to ask him he has dropped to his knees and taken me into his mouth. I watch as his thin lips caress me, then as his tongue flickers softly across the head of my cock before hungrily taking me all the way into the back of his throat. The force of his bobbing head thrusts the cock back into me repeatedly, rubbing maddeningly over my swollen clit.

I lift him up off the ground and twirl him around until he is now in my former position, back against the wall. I instruct him to watch me in the mirror. I kiss the side of his neck, tracing against his jawline with my tongue, letting my hand slide down his flat, muscular stomach until it arrives just beneath his jeans but staying above his jockeys.

I dip my hand into the apex between his legs and feel the scorching wetness there, and when I apply pressure he moans. I drop to my knees, unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down to his ankles. I slide my fingers along the band of his underwear, pressing my lips to the flesh just below his belly button before curling my fingers around them and pulling them down and off along with his pants. I look up at his face riddled with arousal and remind him to watch me in the mirror.

I take his leg and latch it over my shoulder before burying my face between his thighs. The second my tongue touches him, his breathing deepens, becomes harder, faster. I swirl my tongue up and down the cleft, flicking her clit with my tongue and becoming more and more excited every time I hear him groan. His hands are on my shoulders, fingernails dug in, and the slight pain spurs me to lick faster, harder. He wants release and I yearn to give it to him but not like this.

I stand and look into his eyes before drawing him into a kiss and spinning his body around again. We are looking at ourselves in the mirror above the sink. I run my hand up his back and apply the slightest bit of pressure until he gets the hint and leans forward, bent at the hips. I reach down and slide my finger into his wetness before wrapping a firm hand around my cock and guiding it into him.

She gasps and trembles as I spread her open, working my way slowly inside, watching his face as every inch sinks in. I go easy at first, awestruck by the look of pure ecstasy on Luca’s face: The beauty of it. The handsomeness of it. He lets out a low growl (or perhaps I do), and suddenly I cannot control myself. I am thrusting so hard that the mirror above the sink begins to shake ominously, causing our reflections to distort and blur.

I look down and watch myself pushing in and out of him, my cock covered with his cum.

The friction against my clit is relentless. I reach around to play my fingers over her, jacking him off while I continue thrusting shamelessly in and out. His body tightens and his hands, knuckles white from the tension of gripping on to the sides of the sink, tremble underneath the weight of our pistoning bodies. Suddenly he wails, body jerking and convulsing beneath mine. I give one final thrust and my clit explodes. I grab on to him tightly, fingers still buried between his thighs.

It takes us a moment to recover. I fix my dress and tuck my panties into my purse while he pulls his pants and briefs back on. Once dressed, we stare at each other wordlessly. I fumble through my purse and then press a cigarette to my lips. Without even having to be asked I hand her one as well. She flicks her lighter, holding the flame out to me. I puff the thin stick gingerly. We smile, and then we both exit the restroom.

BLOOD LUST

Giselle Renarde

I have no specific recollection of how Cat came into my life. One day she was just there, lying on my bed. She seemed to know me, I seemed to know her, and after one of the longest dry spells known to dykedom, that was good enough.

“Come to bed,” she purred. She always seemed to be purring. Maybe that’s why she was called Cat. I couldn’t remember if it was a nickname or a diminutive of Cathleen or Catalina. At that point I was too embarrassed to ask. I was supposed to know her. The way she talked, it seemed like she’d been in my bed for ages, and I was only just waking up to her.

“Look at the time,” Cat said. She drew open the bedsheets, inviting me in. Had I ever seen her in that cotton cami or those little ruffled boy shorts? Everything about her—even her clothes—seemed hazily familiar, like I knew them from a dream. “Come on,” she begged, with a pretty pout on her pink lips. “It’s late.”