Lessons In Love Part 2

I was turned on by the idea of servicing a stranger. It was another first. I was already dripping wet, just feeling the couple's eyes on me was so terribly exciting. I hoped I could get through my performance without embarra.s.sing myself. I crawled to Jane on all fours and rested my head in her lap. "May I please pleasure you?"

"You should let her, Jane. My little pet licks p.u.s.s.y three times a day, sometimes more. She'll give you the best head you've ever got."

There were other folks in the club licking and sucking each other.

Nudity wasn't something that was prohibited. "Come on, Jane. What do you say?"

Her husband nudged her. "It's okay, honey."

Jane blushed. "Well, I guess it would be all right."

I smiled and very deliberately licked my lips. I heard Mistress snort with laughter behind me. If I'd done it to her, she would have smacked my a.s.s. I pulled up Jane's virginal white skirt and parted her thighs. She wore plain cotton underwear.

"Let me see," Scott said, pus.h.i.+ng the skirt back, exposing his wife further.

I pulled the panties down and put my hands on her thighs to push them apart. Then I gently pulled her a.s.s forward so that she was wide open to me. She was beautiful, angelic blond hair and white cream cheese thighs. With a sigh, I bent my mouth to her. I lapped at her like it was my job. The small little berry of a c.l.i.t, I took in my mouth and sucked. She tasted so sweet, almost innocent. She shouted and writhed against me like a wild thing. I bet her husband did a few obligatory tongue strokes and shoved his d.i.c.k in her. Not me. I was all tongue, all the time. I couldn't get enough. I licked her to completion, savoring the sweetness of her juices on my mouth and cheeks. I made a big show of wiping her juices from my face and licking my hands clean, like a cat.

Jane was undone. Her thighs were open, her face was flushed, and she looked a little dazed. "So good," she whispered quietly. She patted my head.

''Make her do me," the husband ordered, going for the zipper on his pants. "Tell her to suck my c.o.c.k."

"Sorry, my pet doesn't do p.r.i.c.ks. She's strictly for p.u.s.s.y."

Scott looked like he was about to get angry, but Mistress Lisa glared at him. "Can I watch you f.u.c.k her?"

"Now, that, I'll happily do." Mistress Lisa snapped her fingers.

"Take off your skirt and get on the table, pet. Spread yourself like a good girl."

I stood up, feeling the couple's eyes on me as well as some onlookers on the bar. This was my moment. I made a big show of stripping off my skirt and running my hands over the exposed skin. Then I scrambled up on the table, eager for her attention. I lay down on the table with my legs spread. Mistress Lisa took the candelabra from the tabletop and blew out the candles. The wisps of smoke blew over me.

She tipped her hand and the heated wax streaked against my t.i.ts and my belly. "Oh, how careless of me."

I let out a little scream. The wax burned at first, but then it soothed me, forming a warm wall around my flesh. Mistress Lisa began to peel the wax away from my belly, taking the fine little hairs with it. "Do you want one of those candles inside that hungry little p.u.s.s.y of yours?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"What did you say?"

"Yes, Mistress!" She shoved a long, white candle up inside of me.

It was warm and thick, but what I really wanted was Lisa's fingers inside of me. I knew that it wouldn't happen until I begged for it at home. "Oh! Yes!"

She found my c.l.i.t with her expert finger. "Tell me who you wors.h.i.+p, pet."

"Mistress Lisa!"

"Whose p.u.s.s.y do you crave?"

"Yours, Mistress!"

"Come now!"

Later when we walked home, Mistress Lisa yanked my chain. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yes, Mistress." I was sleepy and sated. I never knew my fantasy would be so satisfying.

"Such a good pet." She slapped my a.s.s. "I like this exhibitionist side of you. We may have to move to Canada. I like the idea that others can see you but can't touch."

"Me, too."

"We'd have to lobby for complete nudity, though. Your p.u.s.s.y is the best part."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"You will. As soon as we get home. I'm going to make you lick me until you beg me to stop."

"I never will, Mistress. I never will."

TRANSFORMING STONE.

KAREN PERRY.

amn it!" Tanner Stone cursed as her right bicep bulged. Her knuckles were white. Beads of sweat rolled into her eyes D and she blinked rapidly to ease the burning sting, never losing concentration on the barbell clutched in her grip.

Biting her lip in pain, she felt a wave of disgust at how difficult it was to manage the small, eight-pound weight. She should have been happy that she could move her arm at all; the d.a.m.n thing bad practically been severed.

She had been going sixty-two miles an hour, ecstatic with 1200cc's of raw power between her thighs. Her Ninja 2X-l0R sport bike felt as if it were an extension of her body, but she had no control over either when suddenly, without warning, a hulking piece of construction machinery careened into her path. The last thing she remembered was screaming for mercy as both she and the bike slid under the biting tread of the machine.

Life as Tanner knew it, as she had carefully built and arranged it, disappeared in one brutal, life-shattering moment. It was only because of the talented hands of a gifted surgeon that she still had her trembling arm all. Surgery had saved her limb, but healing had been excruciating. She had lain in the hospital for months on end, just cognizant enough to realize that she should not have survived at all.

Now, the problem-the thing that had crawled into her gut and gnawed at her-was that her new limitations conflicted horribly with the streak of butch ego that ran deeply through her core. Weakness had no place in her former life. Before the accident, she had been tough, almost invincible. Her body had been honed to perfection. No one messed with her, and the ladies were hers to do with as she pleased. Now there were still times she thought that death would find her.

The only person who stood in the Grim Reaper's path, defiantly telling him to f.u.c.k off, was Robbie Marks. As rebelliously butch as Tanner, Robbie had initially been Tanner's compet.i.tion. Like two snarling dogs, they had traded threats and jibes, defending what they felt were rightfully theirs-the city's finest femmes. Their mutual love of motorcycles finally inspired a truce.

Robbie had been there the night of the accident, a few paces back on her own Kawasaki crotch rocket. She had watched helplessly as Tanner almost died, unable to do a d.a.m.n thing but make a phone call. In the hospital, other friends disappeared, but Robbie stayed. She was the one who fed Tanner tiny ice chips and held a straw to her parched, cracked lips. Robbie was the one who knew that she got cold easily and kept the blankets pulled warmly around her.

Even when closest to death, Tanner had wanted to reject her help.

It had been the pain-mind-boggling, soul-shredding pain-that forced her to cling to Robbie instead, but the helplessness was just as excruciating as her injuries.

As a fellow butch, Robbie had understood that internal conflict.

Still, one week before Tanner's hospital discharge, Robbie announced, "I'm moving in with you. You're going to need me."

"f.u.c.k you! I don't need anybody," Tanner snapped. Her right arm and both legs were in casts but she'd be d.a.m.ned before she let anyone play nursemaid.

"And just who in the h.e.l.l is going to take care of you? Are you going to let them send you to one of those old geezer places, a nursing home where all the chicks' t.i.ts hang below their belt lines? You can't go home by yourself."

Tanner had been living with the steady drip of morphine in her veins and the fear of death in the pit of her stomach ever since she regained consciousness. She had learned the hard way that no one was indestructible; not even a strong, butch d.y.k.e. Robbie was the only person whom she had ever allowed to get close, and she knew she needed her. If it made her look like a ''weak-kneed femme," so be it. She had relented. "I'd like for you to move in. I'll pay you, of course, with the money from the insurance settlement."

Refocusing on the dumbbell in her hand, Tanner forced her arm to obey her command one final time before allowing the barbell to drop to the floor. It clanged loudly against another weight, but she didn't care.

All that mattered was letting go of the heavy burden.

Standing slowly, she peeled off her damp T-s.h.i.+rt, grateful for the rush of cool air on her moist skin. Catching a glimpse of herself in the bedroom mirror, she stared as she often did, bewildered by the changes.

Her black hair, formerly cut to the point of bristly spikes, had not been trimmed in well over a year and now hung softly onto her shoulders. She had also gained weight, inertia and Robbie's cooking replacing hard- packed muscles with softer flesh. She could easily fool herself into believing that the person in the mirror was a stranger, but the ugly, vicious scar that ran across her stomach and chest was her reality check.

Although the wound was healed, it was still angry and vividly red. Its path slithered across her body, wrapping up and around a breast that she had nearly lost. Robbie suggested having a snake tattooed along its path, and the idea did have a certain appeal.

She glanced at the clock with trepidation. In her former life, she had practically lived in bars. Now that she was stronger, Robbie was convinced that she needed to "get back in the saddle." Tonight would be their third outing in as many weeks, but she simply could not get excited. With a sigh, she looked at the outfit Robbie had laid out for her-motorcycle boots, ragged jeans, and a black tee. It was the uniform of her prior life, but after spending months in nothing but hospital gowns and sweats, she dreaded wearing them.

The worst part was what lay in the center-a brand new soft leather harness that sported an impressive nine-inch c.o.c.k. A year ago she could not have imagined leaving the house without a d.i.c.k between her thighs, but that had changed. Ignoring the harness, Tanner dressed.

At the bar, she sat with one foot tucked upon the railing of her bar stool, doing her best to look comfortable in a place that no longer held her interest. By one a.m., her only wish was to go home. She was tired of ignoring the unabashed, hungry stares of women she didn't want.

Wanting to rush Robbie along, she said, "You should pick out what you want to play with tonight, so we can go home."

Robbie brushed a lock of blond hair from her eyes. "Don't you mean whom, not what? d.a.m.n, Tanner! You're talking about these lovely women like they're objects, not people."

Laughing uncomfortably, Tanner punched Robbie's ann. "Yeah, right! Since you're so concerned about these women's individuality, what was the name of the woman who spent last Friday night in your bed?

Our walls are thin. I heard you call her three different names."

Wide-eyed in disbelief, Robbie said, "No, I didn't!"

Tanner grinned triumphantly. "Yes, you did. So tell me, was it Becky, Joan, or Gretchen?"

Robbie c.o.c.ked her head, deep in concentration before her nose crinkled. "Oh, h.e.l.l! I can't remember, but at least I was with someone.

You act like you don't care if you go home alone or not."

Tanner leaned back against the bar, feeling the sharp edge of the counter cut into the tender flesh of her back. She didn't bother pulling away to ease the pinch. She had become accustomed to pain. It reminded her that she was alive. So much of her adult life had been about s.e.x. She had used it to feel powerful and in control, never letting a woman linger in her bed for too long. It surprised her, but now she realized that it had all been hollow, an empty sh.e.l.l in comparison to the life she had unexpectedly built with Robbie. She liked being with her, hanging out at home watching television or doing nothing at all. It was enough.

"I know you think you know best, and I hate to disappoint you,"

Tanner said, ''but the fact is, I really don't care."

"How can you live without s.e.x? I like it too much to give it up."

"That bulldozer must have crushed my libido, too. I don't feel a thing. Just pick somebody and let's go home."

Robbie eyed her suspiciously, but indicated a woman leaning against the wall by the dance floor. "What do you think about her?"

Tanner scowled. "I'll bet you ten bucks that your girl is an M to F. I think she is actually a he. "

"You're out of your mind! Look at her hands. They're too small to be a man's. Besides, she doesn't have an Adam's apple!"

Pulling out a ten-dollar bill, Tanner waved it in front of Robbie's nose. "That, my friend, is a chick with a d.i.c.k. Go start a conversation and look for signs of razor stubble. Check out the voice, too. A man can hide his weenie. He can duct tape it down, but the voice never lies."

Perplexed, Robbie stared at the woman.

Tanner laughed. The look on Robbie's face was priceless, marred with self-doubt.

Waving the bill at Robbie again, she said, "Check her out. If I'm wrong, you get the money and the woman." Pausing as if a new thought had struck her, she softly added, "If I'm right, you go home with me."

"With you? I'm afraid that you can't give me what I need, buddy."

Tanner drew in a deep breath. She really didn't want anyone else to go home with them. Lowering her head, her gaze on the floor, she spoke, feeling as if the words were coming from a foreign place deep inside herself. "And just what exactly would that be?"

Robbie cast a leering stare up and down Tanner's body. "Are you flirting with me?"

As Robbie's appraising eyes scanned her body, Tanner felt her pulse increase. She flushed with embarra.s.sment as she realized that she was feeling desire for the first time since her crash. It was almost overwhelming.

"No, I'm not...flirting, that is. I wasn't meaning that." Her denial was weak, the words so poorly spoken that she didn't even convince herself.

Robbie c.o.c.ked her head sideways and moved to fill the gap between them. Pus.h.i.+ng soft strands of Tanner's hair behind her ear, she said in a slow drawl, "I think you are, and I'll willingly admit that it turns me on. If I had to pick between you and any other woman in this bar, it would be no contest."

Tanner swayed as Robbie bit her earlobe.

Robbie whispered, "If you don't want this, tell me right now. We'll forget that it ever happened."

Stunned, Tanner couldn't speak. Her knees buckled when Robbie spoke into her ear, filling it with hot, moist air. Her skin felt warm, her breath shallow. She knew that Robbie was a demanding lover, that she would not go to bed with any woman who refused to let her use her equipment, but would she expect it with her? Granted, Tanner could admit that she was not the hard butch that she used to be, but that didn't mean she was ready to be a femme bottom either. Still, the idea of sleeping with Robbie took her breath away. She couldn't say no.

Robbie took Tanner's hand. Leading her out of the bar, she murmured. "Don't think so hard, Tanner. I would never do anything that you don't want."

Once home, Tanner mumbled, "I can't stop shaking," as Robbie reached for the fly of her jeans.

Robbie directed Tanner's hand to the bedpost. "Here, hold this."

She hugged Tanner and whispered, "You'll be okay. I promise. It's just been too long. You've needed this for so long."

Robbie's hands, sure and soft, roamed under the loose band of Tanner's pants until the jeans felt to the floor. She covered Tanner's face with nibbling kisses, avoiding her lips. With one hand clinging to the post, Tanner placed her other on Robbie's hips, riveted by the delicate touches. This softness was not what she expected, but it was exactly what she needed. Robbie had taken care of her for so long. It took this act, dropping her last vestige of withholding from Robbie, for Tanner to realize that she loved her.

The trembling began anew. She groaned loudly as Robbie cupped her a.s.s and pulled her close. Their hips melded and Tanner felt the nudging of Robbie's d.i.l.d.o between her thighs. A strong, deep pulse beat in the wetness between her legs. Letting go of the bedpost, she took Robbie's face in her hands. Clutching at her, she demanded, "Kiss me, Rob. I need you to kiss me."

When Robbie's tongue filled her mouth, Tanner tried to suck it deeper into herself. She was starving. She would have gone on kissing her forever but Robbie pulled away and laid her gently upon the bed, as tenderly as when she brought Tanner home from the hospital.

Tanner nearly cried out when Robbie took her in her strong, protective arms. It had been an extremely long time since she had felt safe, and at that moment, she did not give a d.a.m.n what anyone might think of her. When Robbie began stroking her nipples through her s.h.i.+rt, she gasped loudly and gripped the sheet into her fists. She could not stop the slow, gyrating motions that propelled her hips into Robbie's thigh, but her breath froze in her throat when Robbie's hand slid under the hem of her s.h.i.+rt. Robbie had bandaged her wounds for months, but this was different. Tanner felt vulnerable and weak.

Holding Tanner's cheek in her palm, Robbie looked into her eyes.

''Trust me, baby. Your scar is beautiful to me. I wouldn't be here with you, like this, if you didn't have it. It's as much a part of me now as it is you."

Robbie kissed her again, so piercingly that Tanner felt safe once more. She guided Robbie's hand under her s.h.i.+rt, her back arching in pleasure as bare fingers settled on her breast. When she could stand it no longer, she pulled her s.h.i.+rt free and tugged it off.