Sunday Snog #175: Clean Slate

My snog today comes from “Clean Slate”, one of the stories in my new collection of lesbian erotica, Her Own Devices. It’s short, but very intense!

Don’t forget to visit Snog Central for links to lots more luscious Sunday kisses!

“You're so wet, chica!” she purred. I was. Her fingers slipped and slithered in my depths like eels in the ocean. “I'm wet, too. I've dreamed about this, about you...since the first day you shed your clothing and showed me your marks, I've wanted to strip you bare and make you writhe...”

“Oh...oh...oh!” I was beyond words, though some distant corner of my mind still observed, commented, analyzed. As though impatient, she pushed the panties down around my thighs, then plunged her whole hand into my sopping pussy. I ground my clit against her knuckles and spread my legs as wide as I could. Elastic cut into my flesh, but I didn't care. I opened myself to her clever fingers, wanting more, more―more of the fierce heat she coaxed from my snow-pale body, more of the pleasure that she woke everywhere she touched.

She nipped at my shoulder, where the anesthetic had started to wear off. Pain sliced through me, a startling contrast to the sweet heaviness pooled between my thighs. I turned my head and she fastened her ripe-plum lips on mine, forcing her tongue into my mouth, still twisting my nipple and stabbing at my clit. She smelled like orange blossoms. She tasted of espresso. She pressed her pelvis against my bare ass. The starched fabric of her lab coat rasped against my cheeks. I could feel her dampness, even through the layers of cloth. I felt her want, a mirror of my own.

Somehow we ended up on the tiled floor. Under her coat she wore tight jeans and a purple tank top without a bra. Cradling her full breasts in my pale fingers, I suckled first one taut nipple and then the other while she struggled with her pants. I ran my tongue up along the outside of one luscious mound, to the sensitive spot under her arm. She stiffened and moaned. I heard tearing fabric and understood that she was as desperate as I was.

I straddled her, pressing my lightly furred bush against her black thicket. Skin on skin, at last! My juices mingled with hers as we rubbed our mounds together. Our rich, musky scent hung heavy in the sterile room. I leaned over to capture her mouth, letting my pea-sized nipples graze her more opulent ones.

She relaxed and let me take the lead. I wanted to devour her. I had to hold myself back. I kissed her ferociously, for a long time, until I could tell she was having trouble breathing.

“Want...to...taste you...chica,” she gasped when I finally released her. I could only grunt; I was too deep into my lust to speak. I nipped at her earlobe, then swung around so that my cunt was in her face. She spread me wide with trembling fingers.

The first sweep of her strong, hot tongue gathered me and drew me to the pinnacle. The second stroke pushed me off. My body took flight, arrowing up into clouds of pure pleasure then tumbling downward to burst against her face. Everything poured out of me, the darkness and the fear and the shame, flooding her eager mouth.