Me and My Boi Read online

  “I won’t lie and say I’m not attracted to you, Tilly. I’ve always wished we could give it a try, but you mean too much to me for a fling. Sometimes you seem to respond to me, but it never lasts. You always pull away. This season has been worse than ever. It feels like you don’t want me anywhere near you! It’s a small boat, Tilly. I can accept if you don’t want me, but you have to know you’re safe with me.”

  Tilly sat blinking, still holding her ankles in front of her on the mat. Spin’s words didn’t fit. Where was this coming from? They’d ended up at some of the same college parties and usually stuck together on out-of-town trips, but their closeness evaporated away from the docks. With all the countless hours they’d spent together, they’d never once sat around and shot the shit with a drink in hand, let alone hinted at more.

  Spin kept her eyes trained steadily on Tilly’s face until Tilly spoke. “I know I’m safe with you.”

  Spin tightened her lips and looked away. “I guess that’s good enough, then.” She brushed her hands against each other and rocked as though to stand up.

  “Wait!” Tilly felt the moment slipping away and realized that she had to know what Spin meant by her words. “You’re talking nonsense, Spin. You’ve never been attracted to me. You like high femmes. Fingernails and makeup.” Tilly heard her own words and knew them to be false. Or, if not false, at least only partly true. Spin had dated most of the lesbians at school and an eyebrow-raising number of straight girls. Some decided they were bi and others went back to guys afterward, but none of them ever talked bad about Spin when it was over.

  Waving her hands in front of her, Tilly wordlessly asked for a moment of silence.

  Spin acquiesced, but a quirk at the corner of her mouth suggested that she was taking stock, just as Tilly was. When Tilly finally spoke again, she said, “I’m confused, Spin. I thought you were completely uninterested in me. You never invited me to parties or asked me out. And don’t say that goes both ways. You and I both know your style. You’ve never been slow to ask out any girl who interested you.”

  “Any girl but you.” Spin’s quiet response liquefied Tilly’s belly in some strange way. “I wasn’t even sure you were queer at first. Maybe just a tomboy? And then you started dating Mag…”

  “Unbelievable.” Tilly rose to her knees and crawled closer to Spin. “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying…I don’t want to feel safe from you. I want more than that.”

  Tilly grabbed the back of Spin’s head and held it while she touched their lips together, then pressed. She felt the tip of Spin’s tongue and opened her mouth to touch it with her own. The sensation of slick and rough combined pulled her deeper into the kiss. When Spin gripped Tilly’s ribs, Tilly swung a leg over and sat astride her lap. In a fever, they kissed deeply, endlessly, inhaling the sweat and salt that covered their faces, licking at each other’s teeth and lips and tongues.

  When Tilly was able to process a thought again, it was that Spin had to be uncomfortable. She raised her head to speak, but Spin stole her breath by pressing her face to the tightly bound cleavage under Tilly’s team shirt. She ran her hands down Tilly’s sides and around her ass. Tilly had a fraction of a second to anticipate before the reality of Spin’s hands, gripping the tender curve firmly, overwhelmed imagination. Spin pulled Tilly closer, hard against her flexed belly, and breathed deeply.

  Spin raised her head. “I don’t know where this will go, but I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

  Tilly melted and her cunt flexed. “There’s no one around.”

  Spin rocked back slowly, strong abs controlling their fall, eyes fixed on Tilly’s. Tilly gave in to the pull of her arms and followed her down. She drew up tight when Spin groaned at the press of Tilly’s breasts against hers. Tilly held part of her weight on her forearms and rocked her hips against the narrower span of Spin’s.

  Spin planted a foot and twisted, taking Tilly down onto her back. Looming over her from the side, Spin groaned. “You are so fucking sexy.”

  “I smell like a locker room,” Tilly complained.

  “You smell great.” Spin ran her hand down Tilly’s belly to her hip and pulled. Their bellies met, side to side, and they kissed, hard-handed on each other’s hips. It wasn’t nearly enough and Tilly pushed upright. Spin rose to her knees, looming, and pulled Tilly’s shirt up and off. Tilly pushed Spin’s shirt up and dove in to lick the skin between her small breasts while Spin dispensed with the garment, scraping the sports bra off over her head in one quick motion.

  Tilly pressed Spin’s shoulders back and got a first good look at her, topless. Her muscled arms and shoulders softened at her high breasts, with their shallow curve off her ribs. Her waist dipped in from her narrow ribs and Tilly could see her hip bones pressing outward just over the waistband of her low exercise pants. Spin never dressed to hide her shape, but it was different, seeing her without wrapping. She looked touchable, pleasurable, where before, Tilly hadn’t been able to imagine what Spin would want from a lover. Looking at her bullet-hard nipples, Tilly thought it was a good bet that Spin would respond violently to having them stimulated.

  “Come on,” Spin begged. “Take off your bra.” She knelt back on her heels, watching with rapt attention as Tilly performed the acrobatic maneuver of removing a damp, too-small sports bra from a large-breasted frame. Not a process she ordinarily thought of as sexy, but Spin’s expression let Tilly know that it turned her on. She stretched the reinforced bottom hem up and over her breasts, inching the band up all the way around. When she crossed her arms and pulled upward on the bunched-up bra, Spin’s face went slack and her hands twitched. It barely cleared Tilly’s head before Spin attacked.

  Strong, rough hands closed over Tilly’s heavy breasts. They hung down somewhat and then curved outward in a swoop that ended at her small, crinkled nipples. Tilly sighed at the relief of pressure and the ache of her nipples’ release from their cage.

  “I can’t believe you keep these things packed away.” Spin massaged the deep, vivid lines left by the sports bra and kissed the indentation on Tilly’s shoulder. “I’ll never tease you about playing with your bra again.”

  Tilly laughed. “Ah, but it feels so good when I set them free.”

  “Breast bondage?” Spin’s caresses moved from therapeutic to arousing.

  “No, not really. It just takes a lot of pressure to hold them in place. Oh, that’s nice.”

  Spin smiled and pulled Tilly up so that they knelt with thighs and breasts pressed hard against one another. Tilly grabbed Spin’s shoulders, strong muscle over delicate bone, and pulled her closer. She licked the small collarbone and shoved Spin hard, wanting to get her on her back where she could put her hands all over her. Spin shoved back, taking Tilly by surprise. She arched over Tilly, bowing her back and lifting a tight nipple to her mouth. The gnawing, pulling feeling made Tilly’s hands spasm on Spin’s shoulders, less to keep from tipping over backward and more to make sure the other couldn’t move away.

  Spin raised one knee, planting her foot beside Tilly’s hip and effectively imprisoning her within the cage of her arms and knee. Suddenly overwhelmed, Tilly pushed upward, shoving her chest into Spin’s. Their workout shorts slid against each other when Tilly got one foot under her.

  Spin growled. “Give it to me.”

  Tilly laughed shortly and tossed back with bravado, “Take it, if you can.”

  Spin pushed forward and Tilly matched her pressure. Burning muscles protested the contest, but Tilly refused to give Spin the right to run the fuck. At least, not without a fight. Swaying back and forth with the intensity of their press together, Tilly reached around and grabbed Spin’s tight ass, then slapped her asscheeks. The moment of surprise froze Spin, and Tilly heaved against her.

  Spin counterattacked with a shove upward that brought them both to their feet, scrabbling for footing. She wrapped one arm around Tilly’s waist, the slide of rough skin on soft wrenching a moan from them both. The other hand went to Tilly’s nape and
Tilly threw herself into the kiss. They kissed deeply, mouths open, panting. Tilly’s hands roamed Spin’s back, gripping, scratching. She wanted inside, all the way in.

  Overworked muscles burned with fierce pleasure. Swaying into each other, pushing and pulling hard, every wrestling grip was massage and caress. Tilly searched Spin’s firm ass, trying to get closer, then plunged her hands inside, down the back of her pants. The sweaty, sticky skin triggered madness in her and Tilly lifted Spin and threw her onto the mat with a strength that took them both by surprise. She followed her down and stripped Spin’s pants and underwear to her knees. Tilly fastened her mouth to Spin’s nipple and plunged her free hand into her pubic hair.

  Spin made a noise that Tilly had never heard before. It was the hoarse plea of a woman catapulted past thought into pure physicality, a scream and a groan, all at once. And when Tilly drew hard on the nipple in her mouth, Spin made the noise again and again. Cupping the bone and soft flesh of Spin’s cunt, Tilly reveled in her control. This was Spin in her mouth, her strong scent filling her nose.

  Tilly’s fingers turned slippery before she even nudged apart Spin’s labia, so wet that Tilly’s fingers sank into the gap without hesitation. She lapped at her nipple, tugged and sucked on it, and switched to the other when Spin writhed. A single finger made the rounds, finding the entry to her cunt, the irregular and thin inner lips, and, right where they met, a firm and protuberant clit. The smile that came broke the suction of mouth on nipple and Tilly nipped at the under-curve of Spin’s breast while she began to stroke.

  Spin panted, grabbing at Tilly’s shoulder and gripping her arm. Tilly leaned up to kiss Spin again and they shared breath, open mouths together but not engaged. Looking into her eyes, Tilly asked Spin, “Where do you want my mouth?”

  Spin moaned at the relentless stroking of Tilly’s fingers and answered, “On my tits.”

  With an understanding smile, Tilly gave up the hope of going down on her this time. She put her mouth back to work, sucking and biting and pulling Spin’s nipples. Tilly found an angle from which she could get her fingers inside Spin’s cunt to the first couple of knuckles without leaving her clit alone. Tilly groaned against Spin’s breast at the give in her soft tissues, the stretch and softness and streaming wetness.

  Pulling hard on one nipple made Spin’s cunt flex and circling over her clit at the same time made it clench. Tilly rose on one knee over Spin. Her second hand freed, she created a rhythm between her hands and mouth that echoed the rocking of Spin’s hips and the arching of her back. Spin panted and groaned, increasing the speed of her movements, taut muscles working in her belly. Tilly followed her lead, fucking her faster and harder until Spin was tearing at her shoulders with her frantic grip. Tilly’s overworked biceps protested at the demand, but the pain disappeared when Spin froze.

  A slight pulsing of Spin’s belly and hands warned Tilly not to stop. Spin would come if she kept going. The pause felt like the moment at the top of a roller coaster and Tilly wanted to push harder, fuck Spin over the edge. She felt Spin’s clit draw up and then she exploded in convulsive trembling that rolled from deep in her cunt to her limbs and out her fingers and toes. Tilly lightened her touch but kept the pace and milked every last shudder from Spin’s dynamic body.

  Resting her forehead on Spin’s belly, Tilly smoothed the swollen flesh she’d rubbed so hard. Breathing deeply, she controlled the urge to roll on top of Spin and rub herself to orgasm. It wouldn’t take long, for damn sure. Her nerves were honed, making her aware of the mat under her, the dusty smell of the boat shed, but mostly of the heat radiating from Spin.

  Spin’s body tightened under Tilly and launched over her in a quick flip. Tilly reveled in being under Spin and arched into her body.

  Looking up at Spin’s slumberous eyes, Tilly gave a cat’s-cream smile. “Oh, now you can pin me.”

  Spin matched the smile and kissed Tilly lightly on the lips, then her cheek, then her chin. She licked Tilly’s salty neck and raised her cunt-slick hand to lick that too. Spin draped Tilly’s arms on the mat over her head and stroked her sides.

  “So you think you won?”

  Tilly stretched under the long, slow sweep of Spin’s hand. “Mmm-hmm.” Her eyes drifted closed.

  Spin’s hands went back to Tilly’s upraised arms, grasping her firmly at the wrist. “Next time, there won’t be any mercy.”

  Tilly opened her eyes. “Tell yourself whatever makes you feel better, honey.”

  She could feel Spin’s mouth move in a smile. “Don’t move,” Spin instructed. She breathed deep between Tilly’s upthrust breasts and stroked the curve of them with her nose, then nuzzled around the bottom and breathed deep in Tilly’s armpit. When Tilly flinched, Spin repeated her command. “Don’t move.” She released Tilly’s wrists to run a hand along the tender underside of her arm and down her side, then inhaled again. “You smell like work. You smell like woman.” Nibbling up her breast, she said, “I love your smell. It’s always turned me on when we work out together.”

  Tilly squirmed, half-ticklish and half-disbelieving. She left her arms up, though, and Spin rewarded her with a question. Speaking with her chin on Tilly’s breastbone, Spin asked, “Where would you like my mouth?”

  Tilly’s belly quivered and Spin smiled. After a false start, Tilly managed to answer, “On my pussy.”

  Spin pressed Tilly’s breasts together and kissed each nipple before releasing them and moving down. Tilly spread her legs at Spin’s touch and her fingers scrabbled for a hold on the slick mat.

  She planted her heels and arched into Spin, who didn’t tease her. One hand slid under her ass to keep her hips up and the other spread her pussy lips. Tilly quaked at the feeling of hot tongue directly on her clit and spread her arms to either side as though that might stabilize her. Spin licked and sucked at Tilly’s clit. It felt huge, and Tilly pumped her hips, imagining it thrusting deep into Spin’s mouth. Spin settled into a pursed-lipped suction, letting Tilly pump her clit against Spin’s tongue.

  She didn’t try to control her hunger or her body’s reaction. Her hips started making crazy circles and Spin worked one and then two fingers into Tilly’s pussy. It felt like a lot when she clenched, but she opened up for each finger that Spin presented. Pressing forward until Tilly could feel her second knuckles at the opening of her pussy, Spin curved her fingers forward to the spot that made Tilly cry out loud, and held her fingers there. Tilly bounced and circled her hips, sobbing wildly at the double tap of clit and G-spot. Spin kept her tongue soft and her lips tight, her fingers poised, and every move Tilly made battered her against the wall of Spin’s inescapable stimulation. Tilly wound tighter and tighter until Spin’s fingers were squeezed so hard they ground against one another. Blood pounded in Tilly’s head as she saw a flash of white and felt the universe take one large step sideways. The rhythmic clench and release of her cunt was echoed throughout her body and softened along with the rest of her sore, heavy muscles when she sighed and let go.

  Spin pressed her lips to Tilly’s pubic bone before sliding up and lying full length on her. Tilly tasted herself on Spin’s wet mouth, her body throbbing, spent with the combined exertions of working out and fucking.

  Tilly’s only coherent thought came slow and lazy. They’d both wanted this, all along. It came as no surprise that sex between them was off the charts.

  Sailing isn’t the only thing that’s all about teamwork.

  DANCING BOI

  Kathleen Tudor

  When Tara invited me to her bachelorette party, I simply sighed and chalked it up as yet another stupid event I had to show up for in the name of office harmony. I expected to be bored. I expected to have to fake interest in a barely concealed cock or two. I did not expect the curveball she threw me.

  “Blake and I have decided not to tempt ourselves, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still have fun,” she said.

  “But…”

  “Think of it as an adventure! It’s going to be great. We’ll prete
nd we’re that kind of wild girl for one night. Be brave!”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Please? Come on, it’ll be fun! I’m going to bring a whole bunch of ones and dare everybody to give them to the strippers.” She made puppy eyes at me, and I clenched my jaw. In the name of not trusting each other, apparently, she and her husband-to-be had agreed: strippers were okay, but only if they were same-sex strippers. The guys got Chippendales or nothing, and we girls…well, we were hitting a nice, traditional strip joint. Problem was, none of the girls from the office knew that pussy was my flavor.

  Which just made it that much harder to think of a reason to bow out. “Yeah,” I said, “fine. Do I need to bring anything?”

  “Just your sense of adventure!” she chirped, and fluttered away. I made a face and tossed my hair in silent mockery, then sank back into my office chair. “My sense of adventure and a blindfold,” I groaned.

  The hen party started at a regular bar, probably because at least half the ladies in attendance needed some liquid courage before they’d ever feel comfortable showing their faces in that kind of establishment. I sipped at whatever fruity thing had been ordered, concealing my distaste with laughter and bawdy jokes. Let everyone else attribute my behavior to being tipsy or to the naughty nature of the party; it was good to be myself for a change.

  I was halfway through my first drink and everyone else was tipping away the last of drinks three or four when the maid of honor announced that we would be walking a half block to a “dance bar.” She jiggled her tits suggestively, and everyone else hooted and screamed, drawing irritated looks from all over the bar. I turned my smile up a notch, all the while wishing I were invisible.

  Our loud, swaying group spilled out onto the sidewalk and catcalled the bride, who was responsible for leading us on our march of what?—shame? naughtiness?—to the strip joint. The guy at the door was a real pro, taking our cover and ushering us to a pair of tables, silently urging with his own calm, quiet demeanor that we lower our energy level a bit. Most of the girls had quieted down, some from apparent shock at the show and others seeming to take his cue. The two or three women—Tara included—who had not stopped shrieking and giggling blended in much more easily with the catcalls of the men around the room and the music that inspired the gyrations of three curvy girls on stage at their stripper poles.