Elaine Miller
An excerpt of this piece has been published in Best Lesbian Erotica 1998, Best of Best Lesbian Erotica (2000), and On Our Backs magazine. It's been done as part of a Two Dumped Guys and a Dyke Top performance with a percussion accompaniment by William Moysey. It’s been read aloud at some of the unlikeliest places and events. It gets around. It's a slut. The piece as it appears here has been published in The First No Safeword Writer’s Group Collection – An Anthology of Exciting Writing.
‘FI[R]ST’
By Elaine Miller
I had just finished rooting through the last box of self-help books, Harlequin romances and James Mitchener novels and was headed for the cashier’s table when I swear I stumbled over the twinkle in her eye.
My three hard-sought SF novels - two Asimovs and a Robinson - skittered over the grass as I teetered wildly, hopelessly off balance. I windmilled my arms a little just in case anyone in sight had missed the beginning of my spectacularly goofy trip, and then slowly and majestically tipped over onto to the dusty lawn of the flea market. She came over right away, unfortunately.
“Hey, you OK?” Scooping up my books, she handed them back to me as I hoisted myself to my feet and began brushing an improbable amount of dirt off the knees of my jeans and the toes of my black boots. She still had the goddam twinkle that had caught me out to begin with, this time with a bit more smirk to it. “That all of them?”
“No, something’s missing.” I said, mournfully.
Serious for the first time, she looked around at our feet “Another book?”
“No, my dignity. I had it just a second ago, I’m sure.”
The twinkle was back.
“Quick recovery.”
“Oh, I’m glad you think so. Clumsy me. I should have been watching where I was walking…”
“… instead of staring at me.” she finished.
“No, no, that’s not your line. You’re supposed to say something demure, we end that conversation, then I get to offhandedly mention your lovely T-shirt, and ask why there is a sweet little triangular rainbow on it. Once I’ve learned, to my astonishment, that you are not only the most interesting woman I’ve seen in years but also a dyke, I will, of course, comment on the extraordinary coincidence and ask if you like futch women.”
The smirk had finally squeezed out past the twinkle. “I didn’t hear anything you said. I got stuck on ‘demure’”.
“Don’t blame you. Always had a hard time with that, myself. My name’s Jo, who the heck are you and I was about to ask you out for coffee but I think that’s a little too indirect. So; are you involved in a long-term monogamous relationship or what? If not, would you perhaps like to fuck or have a really tasty conversation?”
She paused a second, digesting that earful. “I’m Andy, which is not short for anything, thank you, and my answers are no, yes, and yes, in that order. And what’s a futch?”
“A futch is a femme/butch, a girl who can’t make up her mind in the morning about whether to put on lipstick or pack a dick.” Her eyes reflexively flicked off my face, down to my crotch, and back up to my arguably naked lips, delicately arched brows framing a question, twinkle, twinkle. I continued as if she hadn’t given a green light to my revving libido. “Sometimes we might do both. Or neither. It’s sort of a catchall for those of us who won’t pick just one end of the spectrum and live there…. ”
I trailed off, watching Andy as her eyes searched around my feet. “Looking for the soapbox.” she explained briefly.
I actually blushed.
“I’ve been babbling.” I stated, pulling a crumpled ten dollar bill from my pocket and plunking it down at the cashier’s elbow along with the books. “Tell me everything you know about yourself. And what’s a nice femme like you doing in a place like this?” She looked thoughtful as the teller pushed the books and three toonies across the table at me and I picked them up.
“No.”
“No which?”
“No, I don’t want to talk about myself.” She laughed suddenly. “Are we going to stand here all day?”
Able to take redirection, that’s me. “Did you drive or can I stuff you in my car and take you away from all this?”
“Stuff away.”
As I started walking, I motioned her ahead of me, in the direction of the parking lot. Her slim, cool fingers slipped around my wrist, squeezed in a measuring sort of way. I half stumbled again, the rush of feeling to my cunt depriving my feet of needed nerve impulses. She led me by the wrist out of the flea market, past the Polyester Brigade guarding the entrance. I didn’t bother to look at anything except her round, saucy butt in her ragged jean shorts, and her strong brown thighs.
The rainbow flag stuck to the back of my car got a snort of amusement, but the ‘Black’n’Blue with Love’ sticker on the front window brought a sharp look as Andy settled into the passenger seat.
“You do SM?”
“I also do SM.” I stated. “Among other things, I write, cook, think, fix things, shop for second hand books, make jokes, and fuck. And I quite often do SM with willing partners, yes.”
“Hmm.”
I waited, but she made no further comment, simply putting on her seat belt.
“Home, Jeeves” I said to my Trusty Steed, engaged the gears, and went.
I watched the freeway scrolling under my car hood, between my hands flexed around the steering wheel.
“Tell me about SM; what you do.” she said. “Please.” she added, catching my wary look.
“Without the soapbox this time; I’m mostly a top, which means I like to pretend that I run things. I often play with bottoms, who mostly like to pretend they don’t. Much of the time, what is sex for me might not look like sex to your grandmother. But that depends on what your grandmother was really like.” I glanced away from the road momentarily to see what impact this had on her.
She snorted with laughter, then glanced at me sideways from under long black lashes. Killer look when combined with her freckles. The twinkle was back yet again, though. Things were looking up.
I unlocked the door to my basement suite with a wry smile. “Duck as you go in or you’ll brain yourself on the door frame.” Andy gracefully stepped down the two stairs, her gleaming dark hair swinging forward, concealing her expression momentarily as she steeped into my livingroom.
“Home Sweet Homo.”
She turned, perfect lips stretching in a delighted laugh. A slight red stain showed where she’d nibbled off most of her lipstick earlier today. It looked like a good example to follow, and I leaned down through the doorway, one hand on the frame, and kissed her. She tasted good so I did it again, a little harder, took more time. When we broke there were two spots of colour in her cheeks and she was breathing as quickly as I.
“And this is my kitchen, that’s my bathroom. Yonder my office, and the far door my bedroom. Would you care to sit down on my lovely comfy couch?” I pointed to each, gabbling like an auctioneer, and was rewarded with another laugh as she moved away and sat on the only sit-able object in the room. She looked right at home.
I sat on the edge of the couch, faced her. “Would you like something to drink? Juice? Tea?”
“Do it with me…”
“Huh…? Oh, scintillating response.” Recovering, I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. “I mean; yes. Yes. What would you like me to do with you?”
“SM. I want you to be my top for tonight. But be gentle.”
“Sweet girl, were you sent from my personal interpretation of paradise? Are you going to vanish with a pop or fade out in a cloud of smoke?”
“I’m real.” she said gravely, crossing her wrists and slowly raising her arms above her head. She leaned back, arching her back slightly in an obvious gesture of offering. “Touch me and see.”
Shifting to face her, I watched her eyes and the expression around her mouth. The twinkle was there, but she seemed a little uncertain. I ran my hand slowly down her side, feeling the warmth under the cotton of her half T-shirt, then the soft skin of her waist. The electricity of the skin to skin contact made us both gasp. I continued on, stroking the curve of her hip under the denim, but the feel of her, bare, still burned in the palm of my hand.
“Yes, you are most definitely real. OK, you can stay. But no vanishing! If at any time you want me to stop, say ‘Stop’ or ‘Quit it!’ or ‘No.’ or something like that.”
She managed a giggle. “Promise I will.”
“Come.” I stood up.
She smirked at the word, so instead of holding out my hand to help her off the couch, I grasped her by the hair at her nape instead. She stiffened, then like a kitten went unresisting as I pulled her to her feet. I kept that grip once she was up, and she stood and shivered, huge-eyed and breathing fast.
I tilted her head back to expose her throat. She reflexively tried to pull away when I brushed my lips over her jaw line, towards her throat, but I pulled her up close against me, letting her fight against me so she’d feel the strength in my arms and shoulders. I pressed my lips briefly, tenderly, to the spot just over her carotid artery. She smelled like sun, outside air, and fresh sweat, and her pulse ran fast and strong under my lips. I was tempted to bite, but I released her instead, and stood waiting, my hand held out, my eyes steady on hers.
With a deep breath, she took my hand and allowed me to lead her to my bedroom.
“I’m afraid you’re overdressed for the occasion.” I murmured, and waited. With only a second’s hesitation, she pulled her T-shirt off over her head and looked at me, a little defiantly; proudly. Her nipples stood erect, and my palms ached in the center, exactly where I would feel them if I cupped her breasts right now.
I tested my theory, lingered a moment as her nipples burned holes in my skin, then pushed her gently down on my bed. She lay back gracefully, with that odd challenging look again; daring me not to want her, her arms once more crossed at the wrist, lifted over her head. Oh my; I could take a hint.
Digging briefly under my bed, I came up with a soft, thick rope. I wrapped it around her wrists - several turns - then brought the rope end between her forearms and tied the loops off. The trailing end then went back over the side of the bed, where I anchored it to an eyebolt. I let her test that while I opened the buttons to her jeans. I could feel her shock that she actually could not work free, and the heat from her cunt that answered it.
“Sweet girl…” I yanked at her jeans until I had them off her ankles. The damn lacy thing she was wearing as underwear caught my attention, and I thought longingly of my blade hidden under the bed, wanting to cut them free. I just knew, though, that pulling out a knife was simply not done on a first date with a novice - without some negotiation. Fuck negotiation, for now. I slid my hands over her hips, tugging the G-string down her legs and off.
Her pubic hair was trimmed in a neat triangle, and the scent of her sex was intoxicating, earthy. Something deep inside my head growled as I rubbed my face over her body, her soft belly, savoring the texture of her curls and dipping my tongue between her labia to taste. She purred like a cat, bumped up to meet my whole-body caress, met my lips eagerly when I rose along her body to kiss fiercely. Our kiss tasted faintly of her cunt.
She was so wet that my two fingers slid inside her, smooth, like they belonged.
“Mmm… yeah.”
Her eyes were closed, a half-smile on her lips. The hot slick sweet fucking pull of her made a fire in my belly. I remembered her fingers measuring my wrist earlier, and smiled.
She was tight at first, and I touched her gently, my fingers inside her, flicking up behind her clit, playing with her as she opened to me. One finger, then two, then three.. back to one finger sliding in and out so slowly and she hissed under her breath at me, frustrated, pushing her cunt at my hand, trying to capture more, more.
“Andy?”
“Mmm?”
“I want to fist you.”
“Oh, you must’ve read my mind. Tell me something I don’t know.” she said dryly.
I rolled her over fast, pivoting her neatly despite the rope at her wrist, and gave her six fast, sharp smacks on her quivering butt. She yelped with the first few and began kicking, so I held her legs for the last two, then rolled her over to face me again. Her round butt was ‘way too tempting, and if I didn’t get it out of sight I’d be tempted to spank her all night. SM-Lite, indeed.
“What the hell was that for?!” Glaring at me from under tousled bangs and shifting her ass against the bedcover, she spat the words. I suspected I’d see tears if she wasn’t so angry - or if she were only a little angrier.
“I sensed the presence of a Smart Ass.” I pointed out. “I thought I’d teach it a lesson.” I cocked an eyebrow and waited. Twinkling.
Andy struggled with her anger and want for only a moment, but it seemed to stretch forever. I held my breath.
“What I meant was, I’ve been thinking about your fist inside me since we met, and I’ve been hoping that you feel the same.”
“I do.”
She waited, breathlessly watching, impatiently squirming, as I placed the bottle of lube in a hot bowl of water, put a few extra gloves by the bed and stripped. The tank top came off easy, boots with a bit of effort, jeans and socks joined the pile on the floor.
I snapped on a glove. Goddam latex. Forty years from now they’ll have a vaccine for AIDS but I’ll be an old pervert by then, unable to get off without that pervasive smell of rubber overlaying the smell of sex.
“Please, Jo, hurry..” When I glanced her way, eyebrow cocked, she flushed a little. Eyes round and innocent, she bit her lip, pulled her knees up, and slowly parted them. I hurried.
Climbing back on the bed, I touched her hands and arms, checking for temperature difference, ready to shift ropes if need be. As I felt one hand, then the other, she returned the squeeze. Her slim fingers went around my wrist again, an unmistakable gesture of measuring, of gauging the thickness of my wrists and the size of my hands.
I fucking love a woman who knows what she wants.
She was greedy, and opened to me quickly, flowering around my hand as I fucked her deeper and deeper, doing the holding back for both of us as she thrust towards me. I took my time, making sure she was relaxed, three fingers, four, tuck in my thumb and add more lube, slick and hot and her core calling to me until she relaxed suddenly, pulled her knees up a bit more and went still. She held her breath as I pushed past the last bit of tension and curled inside her, grasped by her wet cunt.
Inside her. Struck by rapture, I could not move at all until she demanded it, couldn’t imagine a moment more perfect than this until she proved it to me, pushing herself further onto me, wrapping her cunt around my forearm as she made a continuous purring sound, groaning with pleasure. I began to rock my hand inside her, feeling her respond instantly to my changes of pressure and tempo.
No matter how many times I fist a woman, one thing never changes; the sense of awe I feel as the thickest part of my hand slips past the tension and the last few inches of me disappear inside her of their own accord, slick and with a rush. My hand curls into a fist like a sleeping cat, her cunt flutters around me, around my wrist. Sometimes she will be so tight I will not be able to move for a while, and I sit there, shaken to my core at the trust and raw energy between us. Sometimes she has room inside right away, and I can pump inside her. My mind is entirely wrapped in my fist at times like these: wrapped in my fist and all the way inside her cunt, hot and slick and wet and pulsing. I can fuck forever like this, the familiar burn in my shoulder muscles, ignored; almost unnoticed.
I pushed the heel of my left hand against her clit, put a bit of pressure on - just a little. Her sweet cunt convulsed around my fist again. She sucked in her breath and moved her hips against that hand now, grinding her clit against me, spiraling up towards coming.
I found my thinking mind.
“Stop.”
She blinked at me, hips still moving, faltering only a little. “What?”
“Don’t move. Not even an inch.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I wouldn’t kid about something as serious as this…” I relaxed the pressure on her clit, stopped the motion of my other hand.
“Okay! I won’t move! Um… Don’t stop… please?” She bit her lip again, wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Andy, you’re doing just fine. You are so fucking hot, such a pretty nasty thing, impaled on my fist.” Her breath hissed out, taking tension with it. “I love it when you want more. Play the game with me.”
She relaxed against the bed, opened her legs further, and concentrated on feeling what we were doing.
I fucked her hard, suddenly, my fist pushing her limits, stretching her with each smooth thrust. Mouth opened, she stared at the ceiling for a second, making no sound, then gave a muffled shriek with each inward push, louder as I got faster, until she was continuously wailing, broken only for gasps of air. I caught her at the edge of hyperventilating, eased in and out of her slower, slower, brought her down, and pulled my hand out of her, just part way.
Gasping, she started at me with disbelief. I poured a thick stream of warm lube into the convenient channel provided by my curled palm, then around my wrist. I smiled tenderly at her; drinking in the sight of her flushed face, lips parted, eyes half-lidded.
“Remember, don’t move. Ready?” she started to nod, stopped and arched her neck as I went in again, unbearably easy this time, no resistance as it seemed she pulled me right to the bottom of her cunt. I replaced my left hand over her clit and pressed as I started fucking her again, slowly at first, harder and faster, reaching a peak, then slower again, then still slower as she gasped a wordless protest.
“No hurry at all, Andy. I can fuck you like this for hours”
She groaned at the thought, then as I slid in so slow it took a full breath cycle to sink all the way into her, she lost control and began bucking against my hand.
I stopped, let my hand go limp inside her, went with her movements instead of against them so she couldn’t catch any friction or pressure that way, and took my other hand away.
Scream of protest.
“Jo, fuck me!”
“Maybe…” I teased.
“Fuck you!” she spat.
I laughed aloud at that. “Maybe afterwards, certainly not until I’m done fucking you.”
I ran my hand along her smooth brown skin until I reached her breast, gasped her erect nipple between two fingers and rubbed my thumb over it hard. Another gasp, clench, as she pushed her body towards me. I gave her nothing.
I could hear a slight noise, realized she was grinding her teeth.
When a few moments had passed and she had not moved again, I brought my fingers to her clit and began strumming it slowly, trying to tease her into moving. When she was still, only whimpering slightly, I fucked her again, still moving so easily inside her that I felt I could crawl all the way inside. She made such beautiful sounds, such cat-in-heat sounds… It was time to up the ante.
“Now I want you to be quiet, quiet like your grandmother was in the next room. Depending on what your grandmother was like, of course.”
She cast me an incredulous look more than blunted by her fuzzy expression, but she went silent, only the hiss of her breath, the flaring of her nostrils and the expression on her face showing what she felt. I pulled her legs up over my shoulders, leaned over her and fucked her hard again, watching the tug of emotion behind her eyes, which got wider and wider the harder we fucked. After what seemed like an eternity of push and pull, sliding through her in an erotic haze, she whispered something I had to slow my fucking to catch.
“Please let me scream...” She repeated, and I saw stars.
“Do anything you want, now. Move, scream, anything. But hang on.”
I felt a snarl involuntarily lift my lip as I let myself go, sliding all the way in with each stroke, watching her yank mindlessly at the rope around her wrists, muscles straining, as she wrapped her strong thighs around me and pulled me closer, shoving back at me, impaling herself on my forearm as I fucked her into a place where she couldn’t remember my name or hers; as she chanted “Fuck fuck fuck fuck…” each time before she screamed.
I could feel the moment when it arrived, and placed my wet thumb on her clit, my left hand pressing into her belly, feeling my fist inside her as it pistoned back and forth. I nudged her clit from side to side in rhythm with my thrusts, and within seconds she sucked in her breath, long and deep, and just fucking exploded, wrapped around my fist so tight I could feel my wrist creak. I felt it deep in my cunt, she came so hard; arched off the bed stabbing herself on my arm, working her clit against my thumb, shuddering over and over, her cunt pulsing now, beating like a great slow heart inside her.
I pulled out slowly and carefully as soon as I felt she didn’t need me there, but left two fingers inside her because simply I couldn’t bear to be on the outside of her just yet. I shuddered with my own aftershocks; mostly from somewhere behind my eyes, but my own juices were wet and cooling on my thighs. She pulled me into an embrace and buried her head against my shoulder, breathing hard, and I held her tight, letting her feel the weight of my body and my human warmth. Our breathing took a while to quiet, and I relaxed, drifting, when she spoke, muffled, into my shoulder.
“Jo?”
“Yeah?” I shifted a little so I could hear her
“My turn.”
I looked. The twinkle was back
