Laura and Gail Chronicles: Hot Lesbian Erotica Compilation Page 7

  More troubling than the office, though, was the fact that they did not fill her old job with a new employee, or an internal promotion. Instead, she was expected to do Rhonda's job and her own old job too; for more money, of course, but she wondered if it was enough to make the change worthwhile. And she did not exactly warm to the task of supervising about two dozen people, a new experience for her. Rhonda, being an ice cold scheming bitch, had not apparently found it difficult, but Laura thought of herself, true or not, as a friendly, accommodating, gentle, and wry person, without the nasty streak that was perhaps necessary to succeed as a manager. She was chewing all this over, staring vacantly into space, when Brenda's voice broke through her abstraction.

  “Excuse me, darlin', but you may have missed your stop about five minutes ago,” Brenda said, raising her voice to be heard above the traffic commotion and the passenger murmurings. “We're going left up here to turn around and sit. It's the end of the line.”

  “Oh, shit,” Laura said under her breath.

  Brenda broke into a smile. “Darlin', Mama don't allow no cursing on her bus.”

  Looking around her, Laura noticed that most of the bus was already empty, and the remaining passengers were filing out the doors. Her glum expression made Brenda laugh and slip out of her driver's seat. She ducked under the chrome bar and came to sit beside Laura.

  “Don't worry, we're going back the same way in about five minutes,” she said, looking at her watch. “You can catch it on the rebound.”

  Just seeing Brenda's shapely black hand brought back a flash flood of memories to Laura. That hand has been inside my pussy, she realized. Plunging in and out, making me scream and die of hot coming. She could feel herself blushing, without warning, and turned her face away. Brenda, not entirely grasping the cause of Laura's hot emotion, put the hand on Laura's knee.

  “You don't know how glad I am to see you,” she said softly, privately, though there was only one person left on the bus, in the rear, evidently someone who had missed her stop just as Laura had; or maybe one of those people who more or less lived on the bus, going to and fro all day. “I think of calling you every now and then, but I lost your phone number.”

  An obvious fabrication, Laura thought, since if you really want to find someone, you can. But, feeling her hot blush recede, she turned her head back and smiled. She shrugged. “We all get busy. I thought of you, too. How long have you been driving a bus?”

  Somehow it did not comport with her idea of Brenda. A few years back, when they had been fucking, sporadically but intensely, Brenda had been married and living in a fairly upscale house in the Marina, elegantly furnished. Laura would never forget the round bed, on which they had pleasured one another senseless on many occasions. Brenda had driven a snazzy red Corvette and dressed to the nines. Not that you couldn't live like that and still drive a bus for a living, but it seemed at the very least unusual.

  “Oh, about three years.”

  “Husband?”

  “Long gone. Remarried. Lives in Phoenix. He lost . . . everything we had. Gambled it away. Stock market. Thought he was a stock market wizard. And a real estate magnate.” Brenda looked off into the distance, though it was really only the other side of the bus, to somehow conceal or dissipate the pain in her dark brown eyes.

  “The . . . house?”

  “Oh yeah,” she grinned with bitterness. “House. Everything. You can't get much in a divorce if there ain't nothing left.”

  “Where are you living now?”

  “I got a little bungalow in the Ingleside. You know where that is?”

  Laura nodded. A little neighborhood next to the Ocean View, where Sara lived. She had never been there but knew the location. “Why bus driver?”

  Now Brenda smiled less ruefully. “Lots of things worse than driving a bus, girl. It ain't hard. And the pay is good. People get a little annoying from time to time. Missing their stops.” She raised a satirical eyebrow at Laura. “Cussing and fussing. Old Chinese ladies trying to get on the bus with their live chickens in a bag. Stuff like that. But they ain't gonna fire you. People still got to get around, and nobody can afford a car with gas this high.”

  Laura didn't know whether to bring up Mavis or not. But Mavis was the reason she and Brenda had met in the first place.

  “Mavis is okay?” she asked, gently.

  Brenda smiled directly at her, knowing the history they shared. They all shared. She had taught her sister Mavis to fist-fuck her, and had continued the practice, off and on, throughout her marriage, unable like an addict to kick the habit. Mavis at nineteen had seduced Laura, after they had accidentally met in the aisle at an all-night pharmacy, and immediately had drawn her into fist-fucking too; and the three of them had even done it all together on one occasion. It was a thrilling, guilty secret they shared, and just the briefest mention of Mavis brought it all back to both of them.

  “She moved up to Arcata with a girl friend of hers. Jasmine. White girl. Works for a dentist up there. That's where Humboldt State is, you know? Mavis is going to some junior college up there. Trying to do pre-nursing, I think.”

  And fisting that lucky Jasmine to heaven day and night? Does she ever think of me? Laura wondered, wistfully. I think of her. And I think of you, her eyes throbbed to Brenda. Here I am getting aroused while sitting next to a bus driver, she teased herself. Of course she happens to be the world's most gorgeous bus driver.

  “I wish we . . . were . . . somewhere else,” she murmured, almost inaudibly, but hoping Brenda heard her.

  “Me too.” Brenda's dark eyes also throbbed. “Why don't you call me and we'll arrange something.” She glanced down at Laura's left hand, at the gold ring there. “Looks like one of us is . . . attached, though.”

  Laura smiled and nodded. “She's very understanding. And out of town.”

  “She?”

  Laura nodded again.

  “I'll be damned,” Brenda beamed. “Did you snag a sista, Laura? I know how you love the dark meat. Got yourself hitched? I think maybe I ought to try that since I had no luck with the male of the species.”

  Laura glowed hotly at her. “You know they all want to fuck you,” she nearly whispered, though the one woman in the back of the bus was reading her newspaper. “You aren't exactly ugly.”

  “That don't mean I want to get hitched to one again,” Brenda said. She raised one pretty eyebrow. “You want to? You know . . . do me?”

  Laura looked deep into her eyes. There were depths in Brenda that she had never taken the time to explore. “You know I do,” she breathed softly.

  Brenda squirmed. Clearly Laura's words were having their effect. “You busy tonight?”

  “I am,” Laura said, a little glum. She had a date with the delicious Gail, who would no doubt be wearing her pigtails and inviting Laura to imagine she was screwing a twelve-year-old, flexing that taut, yoga-tuned body under Laura's happy thrusting. “But not tomorrow night.”

  Brenda shook her head. “I volunteer at the suicide hotline on Thursdays. What about Friday?”

  “Suicide hotline? You talk people out of killing themselves? What do you say?”

  Brenda gave her a wry grin. “I say 'Just hang in there, darlin'. One day someone like Laura gon' come along to kiss you and fuck you, and all the long wait will have been worth it.'”

  Laura blushed and again and chuckled softly, but this time did not turn her face away. “Friday. Give me your number.”

  But Gail was not to be ignored or put aside. She could be infinitely exasperating, but also beguiling and so incredibly desirable that Laura might spend hours just dreaming of her slim, adolescent body, her lovely little breasts and large dark umber nipples, before they hooked up. As soon as Makeeda took off again for two weeks in New York, Gail seemed to sense it and called Laura within days. She was again apartment sitting for her roommate Emily's boyfriend, dorko Larry, as Gail called him. Larry and Emily had gone to Seattle to meet Larry's parents.

  “I think she wants to marry
the dork,” Gail commented sarcastically as she let Laura in the door. “Then they'll move in here and I'll have to find someone else to share the Mission District place to make that horrible Prentice tolerable. You don't know how hard it is to find decent roommates,” she lamented, a complaint she had made to Laura before.

  “Why don't you move into a little cheap studio apartment by yourself? Then I could visit whenever we want.”

  Gail pursed her sensual lips and made one of her adorable 'cute' faces. She was incontestably cute, no getting around it. Laura felt like a child molester whenever they were naked together, which was curiously both alarming and arousing, though Gail was actually twenty or so and only looked like jail bait. “Little cheap studios, even if I could find one, cost more than I can afford. The place in the Mission is rent-controlled. Prentice has lived there for just about ever.” She shrugged, adorably. “I guess we'll be fucking in his fucking Casbah again before long.”

  Laura drew her close. Gail was wearing a white tee shirt and blue jeans and had her enormous pigtails of curly blond hair jutting out from each side of her head. You could see outlines of her black bra through her white tee shirt. She didn't look thirteen, this time; more like fourteen. Laura brushed her lips against the girl's smooth, dark brown cheek. “I would fly to the moon to fuck you,” she murmured.

  Gail crinkled her nose. “You always know how to make me wet,” she murmured back. “I did something to make you jealous, though,” she said with a careless toss of her head, swishing her pigtails, pulling away a little.

  “You did? What would that be?”

  “I went to bed with one of those women who are always following me around Walgreen's.”

  Laura felt a hot blush--this time of anger--trying to surface, but she fought it back. “You did. Well. So. And how was that experience?”

  She could hear herself being clipped and curt and wounded somehow and knew Gail was hearing the same thing. And from the flashing, amused look in Gail's dark, dancing eyes, she knew that this was exactly what Gail had been hoping for. She hated herself for making it so easy.

  A sly curl curved Gail's fetching mouth. “Her name is Moira. She's kind of an old goth, if you know what I mean. Black clothes. Too much eye shadow. Long nails. She kind of looks like a witch, or like that spooky Elvira. You know her, that creepy Elvira?”

  “Sounds like a charming person to . . .” Give your sweet little body to! Laura wanted to yell but stopped herself. “. . . to spend your time with.” Suddenly restless, she walked over to the window looking out on Balboa street, examining the traffic and the buses, and the few pedestrians. Why should I care who she goes to bed with? she wondered. A goth? Elvira? I must seem depressingly and drearily normal to her.

  “She does yoga too, like me. Only she does some weird offshoot called Kundalini yoga. I think it's some kind of sex thing. Yoga with sex mixed in. You're supposed to be able to have wild orgasms with it. But it takes incredible discipline and dedication.” She sighed, airily. “I think I just don't have the energy for it right now.” She paused, looking slyly over at Laura by the window. “She did this incredible thing, though. She made me almost come about a zillion times, but then wouldn't let me. And when I finally did . . .”

  Laura turned toward her suddenly. “Don't tell me! I don't want to hear it.”

  Gail looked genuinely shocked. Even chagrined. “Oh god, I shouldn't have said that, should I? I'm sorry. You're jealous.”

  Laura shook her head. “No. I'm not.”

  “Yes you are.” Gail smiled. She came across the room to Laura. “I didn't mean to make you jealous.”

  Laura grinned. “The hell you didn't. You just said you did”

  Gail pushed up against her, as if the touch of her body would be enough to melt Laura's distress and tension. “She's older than you,” she breathed, so close that Laura could feel her breath on her face. “Way older. And not beautiful like you, either.”

  “Well. Thank the cruel universe for small favors,” Laura said sarcastically. Sounds a little like self-pity, Laura, she told herself.

  Gail rose on her tiptoes and kissed Laura's jaw clumsily. “I really have better orgasms with you,” she whispered. “I mean it.”

  “It's not my concern who you go to bed with,” Laura said coldly. “At least you and Elvira have something in common.”

  Gail looked puzzled. Then, a flash of recognition. “Oh. You mean yoga.” She tried to kiss Laura again, but Laura turned her head away, being, she told herself, a real petulant bitch and baby. “I could teach you some,” Gail added.

  “Yoga? I'd probably throw my back out and spend the rest of the week in the hospital.”

  Gail decided to employ another tack. She moved away from Laura, perhaps tacitly admitting that she had made a mistake in bringing up a potential rival. “I know you've been going through a lot of shit at work,” she said softly. “How's it going? Did they offer you that job you were worried about?”

  Laura nodded, softening. She now began wondering how much of this little contretemps was her fault, not Gail's. She hardly needed to be so edgy about Gail's love life. Good for Gail, finding love where it was available. She should actually be pleading to hear more racy details, instead of bristling and sniping.

  “They did, and I took it.”

  “Good!” Gail burst out, happy for Laura. “Now you're a big shot. Do you make a lot of money?”

  “A little more. I don't know if it's good, though. I still have to do my old job. I think they might be taking advantage of me.”

  Gail re-approached her, apparently now figuring she had done enough to placate Laura's jealousy by expressing interest in her career. “Of course they are,” she murmured, again rising on her tiptoes to brush her lips against Laura's cheek. “They're capitalist shits. What do you expect?” She brought her lips around to Laura's and brushed those, her eyelids growing heavy. “Did you bring that gigantic strap-on dick with you that you fucked me with last time? I hope so.”

  Gail did not wear perfume, of any sort. She was sharply oriented in the direction of the pure and natural, and would do nothing to mar the raw pristine purity of her splendid young body. Therefore when she came close the scent of her was completely her own, sweet and healthy and sometimes redolent of sexual notes and highlights, like a fine young wine, maybe a Beaujolais nouveauthat would trickle down your throat and give you an earthy, unexpected orgasm of taste and aroma. Laura, in any case, found it thrilling and arousing, so much so that she nearly lost track of what they were gently sparring about.

  “God, you smell good,” she said.

  Gail smiled warmly. “All for you. Nothing here but me.” She up-tilted her luscious mouth, bringing it within an inch of Laura's again. “Just waiting to be railed and ravished.”

  Oh you sweet thing! How could I have been so lucky as to find you? Laura exclaimed to herself, as she yielded easily to the temptation and encircled Gail with her arms, crushing her mouth down into the offered lips. She stabbed her tongue in deep, past Gail's open teeth, trying to tickle the bottom of her throat. Her hands clutched Gail's hard round little buns and she dug her fingers into them. “I want to fuck you so much,” she panted into Gail's open mouth.

  “Good, 'cause I sure want you to,” Gail panted back. “C'mon, let's go into the bedroom.”

  She began peeling off her white tee shirt as she walked, but Laura quickly grabbed her from behind and stopped her. “I want to undress you.”

  Gail smiled back over her shoulder. “Nasty old lecher. I'm only twelve.”

  “Let's not start that again,” Laura warned her, but playfully.

  “You know you love it.” Gail literally flounced into bedroom, presumably dorko Larry's bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed, swishing her pigtails dramatically. “You want to fuck a little girl.”

  “No, I want to fuck this little girl.” Laura sat next to her and pulled the tee shirt up over her head, stuffing each pigtail through the neck hole to get the shirt off. “Take th
ese down. I'm not really a pervert.”

  “Oh yes you are!” Gail giggled. “I'm not taking them down until after you fuck me once. It's fun to pretend.”

  It certainly was fun to be next to darling Gail's half-naked body, Laura knew. She reached out for her. “Come to Mama.”

  “See? You do like me to be a little girl! You even want to be my mama. Believe me, she would cut out your liver with a butcher knife, if she could see what you're doing. And mine right after, for letting you do it.”

  Laura was kissing her smooth bare dark brown skin everywhere, throbbing and sizzling with lust. She knew she enjoyed a tantalizing girl like Gail with her bra on and also with it off. With it still on, she could kiss all the lovely exposed parts of her upper body without going directly for her lovely little breasts. With it off, well, there was nothing that could keep her from trying to swallow them. Monstrously oral as usual, she would siphon up the lovely little balls, devouring the enchanting large dark umber nipples, until Gail was whooping and writhing and gurgling with eager passion.