Stripped Down (11 page)

“You like berries.”

“They're good for you,” I muttered, flinging my arm over my eyes to avoid the embarrassment. I could feel my cheeks flush hotly as she began sliding more fruit into my already juicy cunt.

It didn't take long before I was filled. I felt like a Christmas goose, stuffed and spread out on the table, a banquet. It should have been embarrassing, but funny things were happening down below. My cunt tingled. It felt full and bloated, but it also felt hot and aroused.

Marissa knelt again between my legs. This time I felt the hot, slick wetness of her tongue slide across my cunt. I could
hear her slurping the juice, berry juice, cunt juice. I shivered and grabbed the edge of the table. Another lick and I was arching my back and pushing my cunt into her mouth.

She pushed two fingers into me, berries and juice squeezing out of my cunt around her twisting fingers. I was a human juicer. I giggled as wet, squishy noises filled the air. She kept fucking me until my giggles turned to moans, her hand anchoring my thigh to keep me from bouncing off the table. I was a bountiful harvest of berries, being fucked on my kitchen table by the queen of produce. Who knew healthy living could be so much fun?

I whimpered and moaned and thrashed as Marissa fucked me, fucked the fruit right out of me, as I rocked the wooden legs of the table until I was sure it would collapse beneath my weight. Marissa sucked my clit between her lips as she finger-fucked me and the combination of sensations drove me over the edge. I gripped her head between my thighs and screamed.

In a rush of juice, I came.
Hard
. My cunt contracted around Marissa's fingers and I gasped as the odor of fresh, sweet berries filled my senses. She sighed and lapped gently at my cunt as berries dribbled out of me and the ripples of my orgasm faded.

Marissa pulled me off the table and we fell in a heap on the floor, the table creaking with relief. I laughed, then she laughed, stroking any part of my body she could reach. I could still feel the berries and juice trickling out of me and I couldn't stop giggling. Thank god for tile flooring.

I pulled her berry-stained mouth down to mine for a kiss as I worked my hand down the front of her jeans. “That was pretty fucking intense,” I murmured against her lips.

She sucked my bottom lip into her mouth and I could taste the juices of the fruit and my own cunt. “Wait until you see what I bring you tomorrow.”

AFTER LUNCH

Kathleen Warnock

 

 

 

 

The small town of Danbury really couldn't be considered a bedroom community for Chicago, Rebecca thought. It had taken her two hours to get there by train, and if she were going to consider a move to the suburbs, it would have to be much closer.

She would tell the realtor that, if the woman ever showed up. In the meantime, she waited at the Danbury Café, a small but clean-looking place that served greasy sandwiches. She didn't eat much red meat, but she hadn't eaten breakfast that morning and the smell of fried onions and the heaping plates around her tipped the scale in favor of a shot of fat and cholesterol. She signaled the waitress, who was chatting with the cook, a heavyset woman with dark hair.

“Get off your ass and see what she wants, Babe,” the cook ordered.

“What can I do ya for, hon?” the waitress asked with a grin, flipping open her pad. She wore an apron over jeans and a flannel shirt, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She had a big grin, and her dark eyes smiled as well.

“What's the special?” Rebecca asked.

“Well, there's the burger,” Babe said. “Then there's the burger deluxe. And, for you, we have the burger deluxe with a side of Tums.”

“I think I'll have the burger,” Rebecca said.

“Hey Sissy,” Babe called back to the kitchen. “Catch something that's running around back there, smack it on the head, and put it on a roll!”

“I don't suppose you have whole wheat?” Rebecca asked. She was enjoying this. She didn't joke easily, and wished she knew how to banter. She thought, given the chance, she could be funny.

“What do you think this is, San Francisco?” Babe sassed back. “Out here in the heartland, there's only one kind of bread: white!”

Rebecca's phone went off, and she answered it to hear a breathless explanation from the realtor: flat tire…miles from a garage…tow truck on the way…. Rebecca told her not to bother. She looked around at the luncheonette, wishing it were a bit closer to home. Babe was joking with another customer; the cook shouted to them over her grill. The customers were a mix of men who looked like truckers and mechanics, and…a lot of women. There was at least one couple holding hands and sharing their French fries.

“Is this a lesbian restaurant?” Rebecca asked.

“It's a restaurant for anyone who wants a sandwich,” Babe clarified. “The only rule is, you don't bother the other customers. Some folks, you know, if they tried to hold hands, say, at any other restaurant in town, they might get hassled…but no one tries any of that here. My sister back there…,” she indicated the kitchen, “is pretty good with the bat we keep behind the counter. And I used to be a cop. I can still take a man down if I have to. Or a woman,” she said in a totally different tone.

“It sounds like my kind of restaurant,” Rebecca said. She eyed Babe's tan arm, the muscles sliding smoothly under her rolled-up sleeves.

“I ain't gonna walk it out to her, Babe!” Sissy called from the kitchen. Unsure of the etiquette, Rebecca sprang from her stool to go and get her own food just as Babe wheeled around to return to the counter. The two women collided awkwardly, and Babe caught at her to keep her from falling.

“Sorry, hon!” the waitress said. “You sit down, I'll bring your burger.”

“You're strong,” Rebecca breathed. Babe's grip had been sure but not painful. Pleasant and hard across Rebecca's breasts.

“Here…your food,” Babe replied, blushing deeply before stepping away for the order and hurrying back. “I didn't meant to, uh…I mean, no personal contact intended…uh…I was just trying to keep you from…”

“Falling,” Rebecca said. “Thank you, and no, I won't sue you.” Babe looked relieved. “Unless I get food poisoning. I'm Rebecca.” Babe let out a loud guffaw, and a smaller giggle, and reached to shake her hand.

“So you used to be a police officer?” Rebecca asked. Babe semiperched on the stool next to her.

“Yeah, I really liked it,” she said. “But I got hurt. With my bad back, I couldn't pass the physical anymore.” Babe looked quite fit to Rebecca.

“This is very good,” she told Babe. “May I have a napkin?” Babe silently handed her one, and Rebecca wiped her lips. “What did you do after you left the force?”

“I drove a long-haul truck, and I liked that, too.” Butcher and butcher, Rebecca thought. She liked that in a woman.

“Then I got pregnant, and married, you know, had to stay home with my kid…,” Babe went on. Rebecca glanced quickly at her hand. No wedding ring.

“Then I got divorced. My sister and me opened this little dump and it can be fun. We almost make a living.”

Sissy came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron.

“So in case you're, like, wondering how to tell us apart, I'm the straight one, and Babe's the one who likes you, but is a little bit of a chicken.” Babe turned red, and slugged her sister in the shoulder—hard enough for it to hurt, Rebecca thought.

She couldn't think of anything else to say, then came up with: “What's your coffee like?”

“It ain't Starbucks,” Sissy declared. “You still want a cup?”

Rebecca nodded.

 

After the lunch rush, Babe offered to show Rebecca around town in her pickup. In the bits of conversation they'd been able to grab, she'd been trying to convince Rebecca that the commute to the city wasn't that long. Rebecca didn't believe her, but she liked that the other woman wanted her near.

Rebecca had some trouble climbing into the pickup, so Babe
reached over and pulled her in, and Rebecca was embarrassed at her own awkwardness. Babe steadied her and patted her knee lightly. Sissy, who'd whispered something to Babe just before they got in the truck, waved gaily after them. Rebecca asked what she'd said.

“Sissy said she didn't know if you were just slumming or I was overreaching but she hoped we'd have fun,” Babe told her, busily adjusting the rearview mirror.

“Do you think I'm slumming?” Rebecca asked.

“Well, I like to think I have something to offer,” Babe said, with the nervous smile she'd flashed a few times already. “I own a business and a home, I'm a responsible parent. I don't know if I have anything in common with you but…”

“But?” Rebecca asked.

“But there's a little heat happening between you and me, isn't there? I mean I'm not wrong about that, am I?” Rebecca smiled back at her in agreement.

“What
do
you do?” Babe asked, eyes on the road.

“What do you think I do?” Rebecca asked. She was so rarely out of her own milieu and away from her comfort zone, she was genuinely curious about how she appeared to others.

“Well,” said Babe, pulling into a small, secluded park and shutting off the motor, “let me have a look at you.” She took Rebecca's hand and turned it over, stroking the palm.

“You have some calluses, but not like you're a carpenter or something. Or a musician. But you use your hands.” She looked more closely at Rebecca's hand, turning it over. “You also have short nails, and they aren't polished. So for some reason, you don't want tips or a fancy manicure.” She moved her lips closer to Rebecca's fingers, until they almost tickled. Rebecca rather liked the feeling. “And you smell like hand
soap. Like you wash your hands a lot. And you make enough money to buy a house in Danbury, which isn't real posh, but we're getting some yuppies. Maybe you work in a lab; maybe you're a nurse, or some kind of medical technician. They can pull down a pretty good hourly wage.”

“You would have been a good detective,” Rebecca told her, with a quick intake of breath as Babe brushed her lips over the tips of her fingers. “I'm a doctor.” Babe leaned back a little. Rebecca put her hand on Babe's leg, feeling the muscles under the faded denim. She wondered why Babe had pulled back. She ran her hand up the other woman's thigh to her crotch.

“What would your doctor friends say if they saw you with me?” Babe asked.

“What would your truck driver friends say if they saw me with you?” Rebecca responded. She fiddled with the buttons on Babe's shirt and Babe let out a long sigh. Rebecca slid her hand inside the shirt, and pushed Babe's sports bra up over one of her firm breasts. Her nipple was large and standing at attention. Rebecca looked around the small lot they were parked in and realized they might be seen from the road. The idea of people driving by catching a glimpse of them doing…what? made her suddenly more excited. No one knew her here.

“This is very high school,” Babe said, blushing but not resisting as Rebecca circled her nipple.

“I didn't date much in high school,” Rebecca told her.

“You've never experienced the torture of trying to do it in a car?” Babe asked. “That's why I have a truck.” She pulled a blanket from behind the seat. She was around the truck in seconds, holding the door for Rebecca, lifting her lightly to the ground. “Come on, get in the back!” she urged. “There's no
one around, and it's a beautiful day. I bet you've never done it outside.”

“No, I haven't,” Rebecca realized. Beds and showers and living rooms and kitchen tables, yes, but never the great outdoors. Babe lowered the rear gate and Rebecca climbed in, noticing the truck bed was carpeted. Babe seemed well-prepared. She threw the blanket over the both of them, and pulled Rebecca close.

“You mean to tell me you never got to have some sweaty jock pawing at you and prying your legs apart and humping on you like a dog?” Babe asked. “You don't know what you were missing,” she said with a low laugh.

“You make it sound so appetizing,” Rebecca murmured as Babe nuzzled her neck, then moved up to plant a firm kiss on her slightly parted lips. Soon Babe's tongue was in Rebecca's mouth, and her hands were urgently reaching under her blouse. Rebecca kissed back just as hard, and let her tongue travel up Babe's jaw, then began to nibble on her earlobe. She could tell she'd found a good place, as Babe began to croon with excitement, her eyes shut, her breath coming in short gasps. Rebecca played with the hair on the back of her neck, running both hands up into Babe's hair and pressing her close for a deeper kiss.

Babe's hand was in Rebecca's panties, feeling for the dampening curly thatch.

“Mmm…you don't shave…I like that,” she whispered. She worked her own jeans down her legs, and then her boxers. She pressed her thigh between Rebecca's legs. Rebecca's panties were already halfway down, and Babe lay herself on top of her, running her thigh over Rebecca's bush, first lightly, then harder and faster, as Rebecca's clit swelled.

“Rebecca, I want to taste you…. Can I?”

“I've been walking around all day…I don't feel…,” Rebecca began.

“I like a woman with some taste to her,” Babe told her. “After a shower, all you taste is the water and soap. I like it…tangy.” And with that she went down on Rebecca, deftly working her tongue around Rebecca's clit, pushing it in, then stroking it back up, pulling it with her teeth. Rebecca was feeling far too much pleasure to be embarrassed, and she pulled Babe in even closer. Babe took her further and further; she'd never felt such powerful sensations from a tongue, and had never felt such a long, powerful build to climax.