Girls Just Wanna Have Girls E-Book

Giselle Renarde

• Herausgeber: Giselle Renarde
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

If you love lesbian erotica, this is the collection for you! It includes twenty erotic stories from award-winning author Giselle Renarde. Giselle's erotic fiction has appeared in nearly 200 anthologies, including prestigious collections like Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Lesbian Romance, and Best Women's Erotica. This steamy anthology features first times, erotic fetishes, bondage, spankings, friends becoming lovers and much more!

Leseprobe

Girls Just Wanna Have Girls

© 2018 by Giselle Renarde

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.

Cover design © 2018 Giselle Renarde

First Edition 2018

PAPERBACK ISBN: 9781393665380

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Table of Contents

Disclaimer

Girls Just Wanna Have Girls

Butch Girls Don’t Cry

Nailed

In Pearls

Sitting for Cynthia

Den of Beatrix

The Psychic Harem

Painted Nails and Puppy Dog Tails

Sparrow Takes Flight

Hoes/Toes

Coming Clean

Too Old for This

Trying on my Roommate’s Panties

Could Have Been Any Girl

The Customer’s Waiting

Girls Sleep With Girls

Spite Sex

Bobbing for Peaches

Saucy Cheeks

Milady’s Bath

Blood Lust

If you enjoyed

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Girls Just Wanna Have Girls

20 Lesbian Sex Stories

By Giselle Renarde

Butch Girls Don’t Cry

THERE ARE DAYS WHEN you just have to get out of the house.  Or out of the apartment, in my case.  I don't know what made that day one of those days.  Call it cabin fever, or sexual frustration, or simply fate.  That day, I just had to get out.  One problem: the wind was howling, and Channel Three predicted the storm would turn ugly.  If I had to get out of the apartment without leaving the building, my only option was the penthouse pool. 

I’ve never been much of a swimmer, but I knew the exercise would do me good. Too much built-up energy in my system.  Kicking my legs and flailing my arms would take care of it, I hoped.  Plus, I’d bought a lovely little bikini at the end of the summer and I had yet to premiere it.  My building was full of hot young guys and gorgeous geek girls—no time like the present to strut my stuff in front of them!  Hell, maybe I’d get lucky and some mysterious stranger would take me home like a lost puppy.

When I stepped out of the changing room, the pool area was deserted but for one other person.  If I’d seen her from behind, I would have thought for sure she was a man.  From the front, it was only the big braless tits under a grey cotton tank top that gave her away.  Her face and her middle were pudgy, but her tattooed arms surged with such strength my knees nearly gave out just looking at her.  She had short hair, a dusty and indistinct colour, and unshaven legs under big cargo shorts.  Her face wore a focused expression as she worked out at the weight machine in the corner.  The “gym” in our building got moved into the pool area when the residents’ board decided to put saunas in both change rooms.  I still hadn’t seen the inside of those steamy wooden caverns, just like I’d never seen this butch babe around the building before.  The idea of both together made me hot. 

As I unwrapped my towel from my nearly naked body, I felt a wicked smile bleed across my lips.  Thank God I’d left the apartment today.  Thank God I’d worn this bikini. You never know what you’re going to find up here at the penthouse level.  Could be boys and their toys or girls with their curls...or it could be this butch powerhouse at the weight machine.  I knew I was staring, but I didn’t care.  I’d come up here to see and be seen, and I wouldn’t be content until I’d achieved both goals. 

From the far end of the pool, I watched the vigorous stranger’s iron-pumping pace slow to a crawl.  Those hulking arms twitched as she set down her weights.  Her gaze fixed on my flesh like laser beams intent on burning off the white halter straps of my bikini top.  If only her eyes could cut them loose!  I wanted to expose my tits to her then and there, and watch her face harden with desire.  There was an intensity to her that I could feel even across the expanse of chlorinated water.

Tossing my towel on a deck chair, I waded into the pool, flicking my long hair over my shoulders.  I knew she was watching as my chilled nipples grew hard under my bikini top, but I didn’t return her gaze.  I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction—not just yet.  Everybody knows there’s an art to this game of seduction.

I plunged my head beneath the cool water and tried to swim gracefully.  It had been a while, but I wanted to showcase my lean figure with minimal splashing or thrashing of limbs.  I did a damn fine job, I think. 

When I’d finished a couple laps I glanced casually toward the weight machine in the corner, ready to tease that hot daddy some more...but she was gone.  The weight machine had fallen to disuse.  The whole pool area was empty.  I couldn’t believe my stinging eyes.

Well, she couldn’t have gone far.  I hopped from the pool, grabbed my towel, and stomped on wet feet to the changing room.  Empty.  No signs of life or neighbours—granted, most of the people in my building worked during the day—but more importantly, no sign of the striking stranger from the weight machine.  I couldn’t help feeling insulted.  What, I wasn’t hot enough for her?  Of course I was!  How could she resist?  No, how dare she resist? 

I tore out of my bathing suit and tossed it in the direction of my bag before slipping under a hot shower.  Wringing out my wet hair, I wrapped the wet towel around my naked middle and figured I might as well cool my jets in the hot sauna.

It wasn’t until I’d swung open the heavy wooden door that I realized there was somebody inside.  And who do you think that somebody was?  Yes indeed, it was the big bad butch who’d caught my eye by the pool and then rejected me.  She was fully dressed, but her head hung low.  Deep moaning sounds fell from her full lips.  Between her feet in black flip-flops, tears sizzled against the hot wooden floor slats.  My big strong butch was crying! Not whining like a girl, not whimpering like a puppy, but blubbering like a man.  Like her father or her dog just died, as Leonard Cohen put it. 

This mysterious stranger had suffered a loss for sure, but I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with a father or a dog.  It was a loss in love, that much I could tell.  I could feel it in my heart—my heart, which expanded to house her hurt with every breath.  I knew just the type of dark-haired beauty who’d trampled her spirit with stiletto boots: deep red lips, bright red nails, short bangs and a vintage dress.  A vixen.  A tart. 

Oh, how many times had that beauty been me? 

Tears streamed down her plump cheeks, barely distinguishable from the sweat gleaming on her skin.  She didn’t acknowledge me, except by sitting up a little straighter.  Still, her chin swung down close to her chest.  As she shook her head left and right, tears soaked the front of her sweat-dampened tank top.  She mumbled indistinguishable words, but I got the sense she wasn’t talking to me or even to herself.  My guess?  She was pleading with the woman now absent from her life, the pretty girl who’d hurt her so damn badly.

Everybody knows a break-up cry.  You know it when you see it.  Because we’ve all been there, everybody above the age of sixteen or so.  We’ve all been hit by that bolt from the blue, or seen the end slowly creeping up on us like a creature of the night.  And it hurts.  God, it hurts like nothing else in the world and it leaves us weak as kittens.  Time may heal the wound of this individual experience, but the next time a relationship comes to an end, we’re torn open just as wide.  There’s no learning curve for emotion.  We are subjected to it and rendered submissive in its hands.

I’m no mother, but I know what it is to care for another human being.  My maternal instinct is strong enough to embrace anyone in need, and open enough to realize the desire that care can generate.  Open enough not to turn that desire away.  Open enough to welcome it.  So I walked across the sauna room.  All it took was three small steps. 

When I stood before her, she covered her face with both hands.  She leaned so far forward her head nearly met my middle.  She set her elbows against her knees, and her strong shoulders shook as she sobbed.  Her whole body seemed to rattle, which gave her a skeletal appearance despite her bulk. 

I couldn’t resist any longer.  I had to touch her.

Easing forward, I set my hands gently against her heaving shoulders.  Her bare skin was slick with sweat, and her muscles twinged under my touch.  As I traced my palms down her big biceps and then up her straining neck, she leaned her head into my soft body.  The moment I felt her face against my belly, a gush of warmth flooded my heart.  Running my fingernails through the short hair at the back of her head, I whispered all the words of comfort my mother would have said to me. 

“Shh shh shh, now.  This too shall pass, and all shall be well with the world.”

In time, her sobbing subsided.  When I felt in my heart she trusted me, I pried her hands from her face and wiped the tears from her cheek with my thumb.  I even ran my hand underneath my towel and wiped her nose, because that’s what a good mommy would do.  And that’s when she finally looked up at me. 

Her glistening hazel eyes were bloodshot from crying.  The droplets clinging to her lower lashes sparkled, even in the sauna room’s low light.  Yes, her whole face was tearstained and red, but there was a masculine beauty to the sadness painted across her skin.  She allowed me to see the wounded child behind the rough exterior, and nothing could have touched me more.

Unwrapping my towel, I held it end to end like a set of angel wings as I revealed my nakedness to her.  Her gaze descended my body, drizzling down my chest like hot fudge before settling on my bare tits.  My towel slipped from my fingers and fell to the hot wooden floor.  Taking her head in my hands, I offered myself to her in thought and in action.

As I stepped close, she tipped her head upward.  She set her face against my bare breast and my whole body burned to heal her pain.  When she rubbed her wet cheek against my naked flesh, I traced my fingers down her neck. 

Like a babe at her mother’s breast, she sought my nipple with her lips.  Though her eyes were now closed, she found it with no trouble.  Taking my tit inside her hot mouth, she suckled.  She sucked rhythmically, as though my body were singing her a lullaby, and I felt my pussy grow slick as I soothed her. 

Juice soaked my thighs, and she knew it as soon as I did.  Wrapping one powerful arm around my waist, she pulled me into her broad lap.  Her damp cargo shorts felt rough against my smooth ass, but her sudden movement no less enthralled me.  She’d been such a predictable beast until now. 

Switching sides to suck my other breast, she cast her hand between my legs.  She plunged her fingers down the length of my pussy lips and hissed when she felt the wetness she’d inspired.  For short hair, hers was so soft I couldn’t keep my fingers out of it.  I stroked the nape of her neck while she stroked my clit, and I honestly don’t know who derived more enjoyment from the interplay of fingers and flesh. 

Her touch made my stomach flutter. Every time she stroked my clit, my pelvis bucked up at her hand.  She pushed me back down until my ass sat firm on her thigh.  With every rub, my pussy leaped forward a little higher and she pushed it back down a little harder, until my buck became a thrust and her stroke became a slap.  The blood in my veins seemed to sizzle as her smacks landed against my engorged clit. My abdomen quaked every time she struck me with those firm, fat fingers.

The heat of the sauna was catching up with me, and my chest glistened with sweat.  I prayed to the sauna gods this wounded stranger would never stop sucking my tits.  The movements of her mouth corresponded perfectly to the actions of her hands and she looked damn good doing it.  She turned her head side to side, rolling it in cyclical motions as she drew my nipple into a bud between her lips.  When she nibbled at my flesh, electricity coursed through my veins and my pussy surged toward the ceiling.  She smacked it back down, and it sprang right up again.

She growled as she chewed on my tits and whacked my wet pussy with her hand.  The sound was so fierce it should have scared me.  Maybe it did scare me just a little.  Certainly not enough that I would pick up my towel and flee.  My pleasure far exceeded any pain she could inflict. 

I’m not sure what compelled me to fall across her knee.  It certainly wasn’t a comfortable position.  With my pelvis curved around her thigh, I had to bend to the side and hold on to the wooden ledge she was sitting on if I didn’t want to topple head-first onto the floor.  Even so, I knew my awkward position didn’t hold a candle to the terror she was about to bring down on my ass. 

And, boy, did she ever! 

The first spanking didn’t do much damage, but the first one never does.  When her hand landed down again, I realized it was still wet with my pussy juice.  The third smack rang in my ears while the burn set in.  She didn’t seem to hold back just because she was spanking a total stranger.  That woman paddled my ass like it was a sport she’d set her sights on winning, and I bore the pain well. 

In any other location I would have been screaming, but I didn’t want to draw attention to our activities on the off chance there was anybody out in the changing room.  The cries built up in my chest until my cheeks surely glowed as red as the butch stranger’s.  Her spankings were too measured to be taken for angry, but they fell so hard on my ass I started to squirm.  I couldn’t help it.  My flesh grew so raw and sensitive that every new smack saw me clawing at the wooden bench.  She had to press her other hand down on the small of my back to keep me in place while she geared up for the next slap.

I found myself whimpering, “No more, no more,” and crawling from her lap until my knees were on the bench beside her.  When I leaned on the hot wood of the upper row, my skin sizzled.  The heat of the sauna scorched my sore spanked ass. 

As my butch neighbour stared at my poor red cheeks, I let my gaze wander the contours of her remarkable face.  Her expression was hard to read.  After bawling so relentlessly, she seemed strangely calm now.  But that was always the way, wasn’t it?  I’ve endured those cries myself, sobbing until every semblance of emotion had drained from my body.

That’s when I knew this was all a dream, to her.  I wasn’t a person, a woman, an individual in my own right.  I was only a body.  I was catharsis.  And, you know what?  I was okay with that.  She obviously needed the consolation that can only come from dirty, raw sex.  I could be her slut/martyr/goddess.  This wasn’t about me.

When she stood, I looked away, but I felt her body behind me.  I wanted to kiss her, but I knew better than to make any sudden movements. 

When I felt her hot palm against the sweat beading on my lower back, my whole body went rigid.  She was close.  I almost jumped when her tank top met my raw ass.  Even simple cotton felt rough as burlap against my sorry flesh.  But that harsh sensation fell away when her fingers reamed my slit. 

I was expecting something, but the sensation was still a shock. 

She fucked me with her fingers.  This was no pretty pawing.  No sentimental stroking.  She just plain reamed me.  I couldn’t even say how many fingers she shoved up my cunt.  Maybe it was three.  There might have been a pinky in there too, I don’t know.  I didn’t want to turn around.  I didn’t want to make eye contact.  It’s not that I was afraid of her or anything, I just thought it might be awkward at this point.  Anyway, it felt incredible, so what did I care whether it was two or three or four? 

She pounded me with her fingers, and my body reacted.  I banged back against her as she moved in me.  Setting my forehead down on the hot wooden bench, I jerked my ass hard in her direction.  She slid the hand from my back down my ass crack, and I just about jumped out of my skin.

When she spit on my asshole and shoved her thumb in there, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer.  Her fingers moved so impossibly fast inside me that the friction baked my cunt.  I bit down on my forearm and let the ridiculous orgasm noises vibrate against my skin.  I couldn’t recall ever coming so hard.  I lunged back at her hands as they reamed my pussy and my ass simultaneously.  My tits whacked the sauna seat and sizzled each time they touched the hot wood. 

The stranger didn’t say anything.  Not that I heard, at least, though I was making enough noise for the both of us.  I didn’t even care if somebody walked in at this point.  What would they do, spray us with a hose?  Realistically, they’d take one look at the scene of hardcore butch/femme debauchery, close the door, and walk away.  Whether they’d go home and call security or masturbate in recollection really depended on the person.  Either way, I wasn’t afraid.

When I was spent and sore, my handsome stranger pulled her sopping fingers from my snatch and her brave thumb from my asshole.  For a matter of moments, I didn’t move.  My chest heaved and I panted and moaned, but I didn’t turn around until I felt her body shift.  When I looked into her face, she quickly escaped my gaze, like she was ashamed.  Like she’d done a grave injustice to the girl who’d broken her heart. 

It was the most innocuous thing I could possibly have said, but I said it anyway: “It’ll be okay, you know.  Give it time.” 

She met my gaze for a split second, and then looked to the door and nodded.  As she moved her head up and down, her eyes filled with tears.  Red splotches broke across her cheeks, and she quickly covered her quivering lips with the back of her hand.  Before I could offer any more generic words of encouragement, she grabbed the handle, swung the door wide open, and darted out.  I might have followed her if my legs hadn’t turned to jelly.  Instead, I climbed up on the top bench fully naked, lay down on my blazing red ass, closed my eyes, and smiled.

For weeks after the fact, every time I encountered a butch dyke on the subway or at the store or wherever, I felt my cheeks blush a little. 

“Everybody knows,” I kept thinking.  “Everybody knows I screwed a total stranger in the sauna.  One look at me, and they know what kind of girl I am.” 

It was like assuming the rest of the world had X-ray vision.  Like every swaggering daddy on Church Street could see right through my clinging jersey dress.  But maybe my coy embarrassment leant me a certain appeal, because I’d never been hit on by so many hot butch babes as I was in the weeks following that encounter. 

The whole sordid experience left a lasting impression.  And could it happen again?  Sure it could, if the opportunity arose.  Everybody knows I’m a sucker for mysterious strangers and unquelled emotion.

Nailed

MANDY NEVER USED TO hold my hand in the car.  This was new, this one hand on the wheel, one pressed into my palm thing.  I loved the innocent romance of it.  Handholding was Betty and Veronica, complete with the love triangle.  Ours was an all-female version, equally contentious, and focused entirely around big, beautiful Mandy.

Pink polish.  Her fingernails were glossy, but they shimmered purple in the blue light from the dashboard.  Every time we hit a bump in the road, they dug into the meat of my palm.

It hurt so good. 

But if I thought my kitten had claws in the car, that was nothing compared to the bedroom.  Her daggers really came out when we got to my place.  I brought out my thickest strap-on dildo, she dug those nails into my ass so hard I screamed.

She knew just how I liked my pain.

“God, that hurts,” I said, wrapping my legs around hers and holding her in my arms.  “Feels incredible.  But it hurts.”

“Thought so.”

I growled like a bear, bucked like a bull, until my dildo couldn’t take the heat and popped right out of her pussy.

“I love it, Mandy.” 

I slowed my thrusts, guiding that slippery shaft back inside her unfathomable wetness.  After that, I fucked her gently enough to stay inside. 

Cocks had minds of their own. 

Even fake ones. 

She writhed beneath me, pushing her big tits against mine so our nipples played and pressed together.  When I kissed her, she dug her nails into my flesh and squeezed. 

My body leapt and I gasped like pain was my oxygen.

“Too much?” she asked, teasing, knowing very well it wasn’t.

“No, baby, feels good.”

I hugged her body tight, forcing my fake cock up inside her.  The strap stroked my clit with every thrust, but there was a part of me that wished I could feel her pussy muscles clamping down on my dildo.  If only there were artificial nerve endings I could hook up to feel that pressure.

Mandy’s fingernails closed the sensation gap, and she must have known it.

“More,” I pleaded.  “Make it sore.”

I wanted to feel the hurt all week.  I wanted to feel it on the days she spent with Aisha instead of me.  When I was alone in bed, wondering if Mandy was alone too—but too afraid to call and find out—I wanted to feel the sting of my girl’s fingernails, a reminder that she loved me too.  The pain would serve as a memento of our lust.

But Mandy teased me, tracing her nails up my back so lightly it tickled, making me shiver as I shoved my cock in her.

“Harder,” I begged.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, always teasing, taunting, dancing her fingernails across my skin.

“I want you to hurt me.”

I thrust in her, making her whimper and cringe and tighten the muscles in her thighs.

She hesitated, tracing her fingers down my ass, gently, too gently.

“It’s not like anyone’s going to see the marks,” I said—a loaded statement and she knew it.  I could tell by the look in her eyes.

Exclusivity.

I’d tried not to push it too hard, but she knew I wanted exactly what I offered.  I wanted her to be mine and mine alone, just like I was hers.  Exclusively.  There was no other girl I wanted.  Just Mandy.  Why couldn’t she be satisfied with just me?

The smile on Mandy’s face did it.  I bubbled from the inside out, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her lips as I rocked inside her. She dug her nails into my ass and I arched away from her mouth. 

Gasping, I cobra-posed on top of her full body and cried out, “Oh my God!”

It hurt like hell, but I loved it.  She was right about me.  She was totally right.

“Sometimes I look at you,” I said, “and my insides just feel like they’re gonna come bubbling out.”

She rolled her eyes like she didn’t believe me, so I fucked her harder, sliding one hand around her front.  Slipping it between our sweat-soaked bodies, I found her clit.  Her eyelids fluttered closed as she arched back, and the sight of her like that, so close to ecstasy, made me want to stop everything and take a picture.

Mandy scratched ten red lines into my ass, and the sheer sting of it moved my hips in double time.

“I look at you,” I grunted as I fucked her.  “I look at you and my temperature rises.  And then you touch me and I’m so hot I can’t stand it.”

She squinted, squealed, threw herself at my strap-on.  “When you get hot, I get hot.”

Getting myself off on the strap while she writhed beneath me, I asked, “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah, baby.  Big-time.” 

Mandy dug those lacquered nails into my fleshy ass.  My body heaved itself against hers.  My hips went crazy.  I knew I could get myself off.  I was just about there.  We could come together.  We could do it.

“How hot are you now?” she asked, panting, her voice thin as linen.

“So fucking hot!”

Her razor nails dipped down the small of my back, slicing a path to my shoulders.  The pain egged me on, like a brand, a mark of permanency, a tattoo. I fucked her so hard she screamed, finding my ass once again and driving her nails into my flesh.

“You really like this, don’t you?”

She was laughing and panting at once.

There were no words to express how much I loved her nails.  I loved the sharp stabs and lingering sizzle, so I kissed her, melting and melding into her mouth.

She tore me to shreds as we came together.  The flood and gush of our orgasm took everything from me.  All the energy I’d had was suddenly gone, and my thighs ached.  We were drenched in sweat, panting, straining, drained.

I pulled out of her, letting my cock rest on her thigh as I lay on my side.  Staring. God, she was beautiful with her hair stuck to her temples, drenched in sweat.  She was so beautiful I could die.

My back shrieked with pain and I could just imagine how it would feel when I took a shower—the soap, the sting, the hot needling water.  For some reason, that made me think about Aisha, and my mood swung down to hell.

Mandy must have read my face, because she sighed.  I thought I knew what she’d say: “Don’t start,” or maybe, “Just be happy we’re together right now.”

But I was wrong.

She said, “You know I love you.”