A Bakery, Ruminations & Fucking... Ch. 02

Tears sprung from her bright amber brown eyes. She was a bit breathless. "I'll only say yes if Pachelbel and his fucking Canon are forbidden; it's hackneyed and heinous!"

The well drilling into my heart struck its mark, and black gold gushed forth. (I know, too mawkish, even for me.)

"You're totally a fickle bitch. Kiss me and shut the fuck up."

I was gonna say something about how our tongues met and danced in the depths of each other's mouths, souls, but, decided not... (It was a tango.)

"Jillian?"

"MmHmm?"

"Not Wagner's Wedding March either, it's vapid, and no fucking Nazis invited to my wedding!"

"Erin?"

"MmHmm?"

"Wagner died 6 years before Hitler was born."

"Shut the fuck up, girl. I'm Driving Miss Daisy tonight. Hard and fast!"

"Nope, you're not. I've got your harness, bitch. Your twat is mine to do with as I please."

Erin grinned and leaned up to kiss me, and I slipped my hand under the sheet. I sang and spider walked my way up her leg.

She giggled. "Don't get too frisky. There's only glass separating us from the medical staff outside."

I pouted, smirked and sang. "The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout..." Stroked her thigh and slipped my hand under the hospital gown.

"Down came the rain, and washed the spider out..."

I skipped my hand to her inner thigh and teased my way to her flooding pussy.

I trilled her clit with my fingers and she shuddered, moaned softly, groaning anxiously, "Damnit, Jillian, my vitals will skyrocket. They'll think I'm having a fucking heart attack and come running. My fingers slid away and down her thigh. The monitors were sounding rather loud and excited.

I could smell her musky arousal. "Out came the sun and dried up all the rain..."

I barely heard the nurse come into the room but, she put a forefinger to her lips, smiled and reassured me. She drew closed the shades across the glass wall of the open ICU and reached over to the stand of monitoring equipment, a key in her hand. Moments later the monitors were silent.

She leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I'll be back in 20 minutes or so, Sweetie." The nurse grinned at me. "Take care of our patient, okay?"

Erin raised an enquiring skeptical eyebrow. "Had a little fun while I was out saving lives?" She grinned at me. "You're a bit of a minx, Pooh Bear. Sashay that honeypot over here."

I giggled. "That's Carla, the charge nurse of the ICU. She helped me stay calm while I waited for you."

"Oh, I bet she helped you real well, Pooh Bear. So what did you do to return the favor, Hmm? Maybe shared your honeypot with her? Hmm?"

I grinned and poked her shoulder.

I could fabricate a glorious sexual encounter and make it so hot you'd probably believe it. But I knew Erin was hurting badly and still emotionally spent from the events that put her in the hospital.

She tossed open the sheet and moved IV's out of the way, patted the bed and raised her eyebrow.

I was careful, and laid down beside her, cuddled close and tenderly stroked her cheeks and face.

"Out came the sun and, dried up all the rain..."

She tried to hide it but she grimaced. Oh, I know how she wishes I could carry a tune. But my voice was such bittersweet torture.

"And the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the pipes again..."

I raised my head from her breast and leaned in to kiss her, teasing her rosy pink lips with my tongue as she pouted and smiled and nibbled at mine. She murmured. "I love you little one." And she stroked my cheek so sweetly and gently.

My heart leapt in my chest, she'd never told me that before and I wept as we kissed, her lips murmuring her love for me over and over.

I trilled her clit with my thumb and slipped two fingers inside her pussy. I found the coarser pad of her spot, and gently carried her away into heavenly goodness. She cried quietly as her first cum began to wash through her. Not a crashing, stunning orgasm, this was of the gentle sort, but felt more intimate somehow. I could hear her heart beating as l lay on her breast, soundly beating as my fingers moved inside her pussy, curling and scissoring my fingers, then lengthening again as I slid in and out, finger fucking her gently. She raised her right leg and opened her thighs and stroked my back and shoulders with the heel of her foot, moaning softly and smiling sweetly, murmuring, "Jillian, my Sweetheart, you fuck me so good..."

She began to tremble and the tempo of her heartbeat increased, she tossed her head about as she moaned and groaned louder now, panting and bucking with urgency as I sawed into her pussy and trilled her clit. I rose to my knees and slid down to her hips, peppering kisses on my way down her flushed satin skin, licking her salty tastes and gently humming. Her pussy was moist, drenched and heated, the musky bittersweet scent of her filled my nostrils and I stroked her labia with my nose, inhaling her spicy musk as she shuddered and gently bucked. I pressed my nose deeply into her pussy and shook my head back and forth, vibrating her pussy and snorted short breaths as I slowly fucked her, alternating nose with tongue and fingers as she trembled and sobbed and held my head.

I felt a sound, heard a rustle and was surprised, about to raise my head when a hand stopped me. Carla, had quietly returned but she gently stroked the back of my head and I felt her lips on my ear. "Don't stop, Jillian, not now. Love your lady, give her what she needs, it is okay." She leaned in and peered into Erin's eyes and whispered to her, "It's all okay, Erin, we're here and it is good. Let your lady love and adore you, baby. Come for her only. Come for her when you're ready, sweet baby."

Erin's eyes startled, but then she relaxed as Carla smiled and soothed her cheeks. I lapped at her clit, stroking down her perineum then up to her clit with broadened tongue, and firmly stroked and circled her pearl, licked and kissed in, hollowed my cheeks and suckled it gently, hungrily into my lips, enveloping her clit with my lips, then opening wide and taking her pussy with my mouth, sucking and frenching her with my tongue as she groaned and shuddered into another gentle yet tumultuous orgasm, trembling, quietly sobbing. "Sweet Jesus, I love you Jillian, I can't believe it..."

After some minutes had passed, Carla spoke. "Come on Erin, I've brought you your dinner. It's time to eat now, you need your strength."

Erin smiled at her. "So do you offer special care to all your patients?"

Carla broke into a dazzling smile, her creamy ebony skin warm and shining, and winked. "Only those that deserve it. Come, eat now, Missy. That's an order." She was both coquettish and stern, and Erin laughed.

"Oh, yeah. I bet my little Pooh Bear had fun with your Honeypot."

I pouted and punched her shoulder, feeling embarrassed. I knew she was teasing and it was all good natured but still, it sort of hurt my feelings.

"What do you think, Little Bear?" She teased. "Should we invite Nurse Carla over for a play date?"

I blushed and peeked at Carla, and she chuckled. Damn if she wasn't a sexy woman. I might not mind a play date, or two. Nope, wouldn't turn down a play date with her at all. Then I caught myself and blushed some more and looked between their faces. Erin and Carla grinning like cats that ate the canary, and me feeling really quite aroused, curiously so, and more than a tad confused. I'd just become a fiancé and lusted after another woman. I peeked a glance at Erin, wondering if she was seriously suggesting it and wondering just when I'd turned into a whore.

Erin awaited my eyes, winked and smiled a lazy sensuous smile. "It's okay, Pooh Bear. She's a foxy woman. It's okay to be attracted and to want her. Guilt and dishonesty destroys you, but lust and desire are normal feelings, they're okay to feel." She smiled at Carla and then at me. "Hell, Pooh Bear, she makes me all pitter patter. Nursie Carla is a fox!"

Carla wheeled a bedside table over, lifted the covers off the plates of hospital food and smiled, winked and headed for the door. "Eat hearty girls." She called over her shoulder. "And, eat some food in between, too, okay?" And with a throaty chuckle, she was gone.

"Erin, I'm confused. We just got engaged. Are you actually suggesting we make love to Carla together?"

She looked at the food and wrinkled her nose. "Yuck! Meatloaf and green beans. The potatoes look like pasty white shit. How fucking hospitallish!" She looked up and grinned. "I'll probably want seconds, maybe thirds." And began wolfing the food. Between bites, she took my hand.

"Look, Jillian. This is all new to me. I told you, relationships and me, I don't do relationships...they are...this is kind of very new. Wasn't looking for one at all. Certainly never planned on having a wife." She winked. "But there are only the rules we make and agree on, and only the promises and vows we intend. You're new to the lesbian club. It's going to be awkward at times as you feel your way through. Just don't get trapped in the patriarchal archetypes, okay? Love is not a prison; it's joyous and wondrous and free, not constraining. As long as we're honest and true to each other, we'll be okay."

I looked at her earnest loving face and smiled. Feeling amazed and confused and quite aroused, I leaned in to kiss the woman I loved, my fiancé. My Erin. I sighed. I was content.

"Jillian?" Her voice was muffled by a mouthful of food.

"MmHmm?"

"What we have...it'll be over for me pretty soon, you know?"

Shit! For a while I'd not thought, forgotten she was dying.

Intermission: "Why do you have to go, and make things so complicated? I see the way you're..."

(In which we shall resume after these words from our storyteller...)

In the following parts, the focus switches between Erin & Jillian. I struggled for a delicate & natural segue between their voices but none of my attempts flowed, they didn't feel or sound right. I didn't want to plunge you into a befuddling, frustrating reading experience. Confounded, I chose finally to just announce who is telling their part. I strived for elegance, only to find that simplicity was more honestly authentic. I'm sorry if it's awkward & distracting, but I'm not a trained writer. I'm just traveling the telling of this story with you, dear reader, & doing my best to let Erin & Jillian share their stories, hoping you might find something in here that stirs you to resonate with your own true self.

(We now return to our regularly scheduled erotica already in progress...)

"You see things as they are; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, "Why not?"" - George Bernard Shaw, from "Back to Methuselah"

Ninth Part: "People can be so cold, They'll hurt you, and desert you, And take your soul if you let them, Don't you let them..."

(In which our girls both speak but not simultaneously, we time travel slightly into the past, friends come to dinner, Jillian waxes nostalgic, and Erin ponders rimming, classic films, and the meaning of rosebud...)

Erin speaks:

Is it just me or is there way too much focus on ass play in erotica these days? A while back, the big hoopla was bald pussies and the great debates were whether to shave or depilatory or electrocute the pesky little sprouts. But a bald mons is totally the new normal these days, so let's move on to the important shit (sorry) & take a long overdue look at ass play from, yes: the lesbian point of view. Actually, from my point of view since I can't really speak for whomever the fuck "lesbian" is. (Hey, we are a varied bunch - some dykes are even conservative republicans. Yep, dykes are in the GOP! Je suis Charlie.)

So listen up, am I the only one having visions of Orson Wells grieving his burning sled every time anilingus pops up? She gently teases her lover's perineum, generously coating a finger with saliva (or love juices or wine or oil or whipped cream or hot fudge...) and gently sinks a finger into her rosebud, gently teasing it wider as it relaxes, sinking in to the first digit... (Who the fuck is "digit" anyway and how did "digit" get into the damned sex scene?) And, if you hated "Citizen Kane", couldn't wait for the end of the movie and ditched it before finding out rosebud was the sled, you're an ignorant troll and I've no sympathy for you.

I've talked to my gay guy friends and have tried to grok the feeling of a penis being fulfilled by a slick tight undulating ass hole. And my straight friends have delighted in trying to explain the feelings of cunt and cock and anal fucking, and all the permutations and feelings thereof. Some queer women friends into anal have tried to get me on board with the idea and, some even offered private lessons, but when it comes right down to it, the thought of actually sticking my tongue into a lover's ass and rimming her rosebud for real? It kinda grosses me out. Who'd a thunk it? I'm a damned ass prude.

So when Jillian wanted me to fuck her ass with my strap-on, I was not immediately enthusiastic. Hey, I get it! She loved it every time her little pucker would kiss a finger or bump against the strap-on. She loved rubbing her ass up and down my thigh, rosebud all slick and spasming from her arousal. I went with it, relishing giving the anal pleasure she so eagerly enjoyed. She has this incredible teardrop ass. It's firmly muscled and well defined, she's a dancer and her firm strong ass ripples when she moves and I am left a puddle of drooling, overeager and panting puppy by her luscious ass. And that pucker winking at me between her splayed flexing moons is so endearing and cute. So, yeah, I love her tush!

But, for me, there's just nothing sexy about a finger caked and stained...and the scent? Well, let's just not go there. (I haven't just dropped in from the dark ages, I have heard of latex gloves and enemas.) I suppose it's due to a childhood warped by Jewish guilt, and maybe compounded by being an incest and abuse survivor.

Look, I've already admitted to being anal-challenged, so bear with me a moment. (This is my problem and if it turns you off, I'm very sorry, because really, I envy you if you get a thrill from ass-play. I wish it were so for me.) But, having a woman fuck my ass was never my kink or fantasy. I like getting teased around my ass, the pressure and fondling and sometimes slight very shallow penetration feels really nice, and when I'm aroused it intensifies the entire experience of lovemaking, but I've always been a bit troubled and ambivalent about anal play. Actually doing anilingus is a bit too weird to wrap my ass-prude brain around. So I did what I always do when stumped by a sex question. I did research, and watched a lot of lesbian porn, read a variety of lesbian sex stories. Mostly, I needed to talk to my closest friends. That they were coming to dinner tonight was icing on the proverbial cake.

Jillian speaks:

Erin is in the kitchen cooking something with a lot of shrimp and lobster. She deveined and shucked a bunch of jumbo prawns earlier and promised to stuff my pussy. Her eyes twinkled and got kind of dreamy when she threatened that, but so far I've not been packed; although, I do know where she keeps her toys.

She's having a dinner party tonight, just a small one she promised, and invited only her closest friends.

I dread Anna being here. I don't like her. She has an overwhelming personality, gregarious, the kind of boisterous, beguiling and seductive presence that just overtakes wherever she is. You know the type that charms the world into eating out of the palm of her hand? That's Anna. In college, she and Erin had a brief fling. I hate her. Not because I'm jealous, but because of what most people miss. She always wears loose clothes that drape her body anonymously, her arms are always covered to her wrists, tops are always buttoned to her neck, and she never shows even a hint of her generous cleavage. She always wears long pants or loose dresses down to her shapely calves. Never wears heels. She is frightfully skinny yet moves in a calculated sensual and seductive manner. Her eyes are grey steel, sharp as chef's knives and she draws people in, trancelike, as she spins her webs. She is a cutter. She is anorexic. She blows chunks. I don't trust her. She's not even here yet and already I can hardly wait for her to leave.

I wonder what to wear tonight. Erin is singing to k.d. lang playing on the Bose Wave. I don't understand how such astonishing sound can come from that small device, and join in singing when k.d. begins belting out "Constant Craving".

"Get the hook!" shouts Erin from the kitchen. I pout, flip her off and head for the shower.

Erin speaks:

I skip the mix to k.d. lang and Roy Orbison singing "Crying". Their voices are totally erotic electric silk. The song makes my pussy clench and flood. I swig a Guinness and munch a golden prawn still sizzling from the wok, ouch, hot! - toss in a pinch more fresh ginger and smash another clove of garlic, just because there's never enough garlic. This is the first Guinness Blonde I've had and it goes down wonderfully with the stir-fry, kind of a buttery Pilsner taste, a bit nutty with a hint of citrus, but I much prefer mixing my own Guinness black and tans.

Usually, searing prawns and lobster together ends up being a disastrous kind of seafood porridge mush, but prepping the lobster separate from the prawns and also apart from the veggie mixture preserves the unique tastes and sensations of each. When plated, they marry together in the most exquisite bursts of flavors. (Sorry. Come for the sex, stay for the cuisine...)

Erotic qualities of seafood are obvious. If you've never gone down on an oyster, licking the folds and tasting the musky juices dribbling from the soft and firm of the flesh teasing tongue and lips and palette, the rich briny scent tickling your nose, well, need I say more? If food and sex is one of your kinks, and haven't tried it yet, just eat and savor an oyster from your lover's trembling pussy.

Morgan is bringing dessert so it will be loud, extravagant, utterly pornographic, sinfully decadent, and made of different varieties of chocolate - totally because we are both Evangelical Chocoholics.

I met Morgan in middle school when she swaggered up to me one day and introduced herself. "Hey. I'm Morgan and I'm a Lesbian!" She announced.

I looked at her strutting cocky butch self and burst out laughing. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Morgan." I said and smiled, curtsied a bit and demurely asked "What's a Lesbian?"

"I eat pussies." She said, not missing a beat.

"That's nice." I said. "I'm a vegetarian."

She paused for a moment, a puzzled expression clouding her face, opened her mouth, and shook her head. "So, it's peanut butter then?" She asked, smirking quite provocatively.

We've been fast friends ever since and occasional fuck-buddies between romances. Though Morgan was seldom between romances, she drew women like moths to a flame. She's totally butch in a most sensual way. There's something other-worldly about her. She is both classically beautiful and handsomely chiseled, with broad strong shoulders and sinewy arms that ripple and define her muscles and veins in a most alluring way.

Her partner, Kirstie is a gorgeous blonde with legs that never seem to end or touch the floor and her breasts above a slim toned waist are firm and pert with nipples seemingly always stiffened and erect, large pronounced areolae pull your drooling eyes like magnets. My god, Kirstie is simply a stunning woman. When she enters a room, silence falls and you really could hear a pin drop, all eyes drawn to her. Kirstie's beauty is breathtaking. Angelina would leave Brad in a snap for Kirstie. So would Brad. Doesn't matter, man or woman, gay or straight, the Pope, everybody wants to fuck Kirstie. She only has eyes for Morgan. The world is in mourning.