Best Lesbian Erotica 2014

LAKE TRAVIS STEAM Lucien C. West

Kael coaxed her Miata into the Central Market parking lot. As usual, titan-sized SUVs and shiny BMWs aggressively roamed, vying for a spot closest to the entrance. The vibe was uptight, but nothing compared to the extensively entitled one over at Whole Foods.

Spring in Austin was in full swing, and Kael dug catching the scents of mountain laurel and magnolia as she buzzed through the city. It was the ideal time to have the Miata’s top down; the sun was yellow, kind and far from the scorch of August. She zipped into a space that seemed miles away from the entrance, but was actually only half a block. Since it wasn’t August, she wouldn’t melt. Kael hiked up her belt and then lowered it on her firm hips as she strutted toward the Central Market courtyard.

Kael was on a mission to meet an intriguing stranger she had connected with through Craigslist’s “Woman to Woman” section. Kael’s post was on the romantic side; no “Where all my femmes at?” repartee for her. She stated her desire to rendezvous with a mature high femme to compliment her very butch nature.

She felt the hot stare of a seemingly straight woman carrying a bag full of beautiful, expensive produce. Kael gave her a slow nod and continued. She had her share of women staring. Her tousled silver-gray hair was set off by a pleasant, mildly tan face, and hazel eyes, while her masculine-of-center demeanor preceded her unapologetically. After her bout with breast cancer in 2010, Kael had begun weight training to gain back the tone she’d developed from years of competitive swimming. Now nearing sixty-two, Kael was fit, although her body was still coming out of the crazy months of chemo that she countered with IV vitamin therapy. Her hormones were also raging, which perplexed her oncologist, but delighted Kael. Truth be told, she was ready for anything in heels.

The woman she was meeting used the screen name fierce2femme. She had refused to send a photo after several emails, but Kael was so drawn to the way fierce2femme expressed herself—in writing that was intelligent, honest and simply touching—she forgave the lack of a pic. The only characteristic fierce2femme allowed Kael to know was that she wore lipstick “as a personal and political statement.”

Kael buzzed into the Market teeming with foodies eager to part with their hard-earned cash. She grabbed a Topo Chico, snagged a lemon wedge from the salad bar and made her way to the register. The checkout girl, a sweet number with an elaborate tat running up her arm, gave Kael a nice smile.

“Day going okay?” she asked.

“Hey, yeah, it’s been great,” Kael responded. “You might not know it, being stuck in this shell, but the sun’s about to set.”

“Oh, I know it all right,” the checkout girl stated melodically, “because I get off in two point three hours.” She rested her hand on her generous hip and gave Kael a come-hither look. “In case anyone wants to know.“

Kael smiled wide enough so it wouldn’t be mistaken for a smirk.

“I’ll make a note.” She popped off the cap off her Topo and headed out to the courtyard to hunt for fierce2femme.

The grackles, blue-black feathers glinting in the dark-orange sunlight, were conversing in their varied and loud way, cleverly angling in on the remains of an abandoned Caesar salad. Kael loved the mischievous birds and their song/chatter, which caused a pleasant vibration in her solar plexus. The world was truly spectacular at that moment. And even more so when she spotted fierce2femme, a leggy blonde with a classically beautiful face wearing a trendy shade of lipstick, and showing, Kael gratefully noticed, a bountiful, jutting cleavage. She smiled and waved, which caused Kael to immediately shift into an earnest swagger.

“I’m Kael,” she offered, giving fierce2femme’s hand a polite shake. In short order, she learned fierce2femme’s given name, or at least the name she chose to use in the moment, which was Ambera.

Kael understood why Ambera declined to send a pic. Any butch-in-search would fall as hard as a cut pine upon meeting such a lovely woman, feminine and straight in appearance but with an edge. There was something tough, something smoldering underneath. And dang if she wasn’t wearing very high, chic heels, somewhat at odds with her rather conservative floral-print dress. Yeah, something was smoldering underneath, Kael thought.

Kael placed her powerful, stocky legs on each side of a metal picnic bench, took a healthy swig of the Topo and nearly choked on the now-freed lemon she had wedged in the bottle. It was not cool for a butch to have sparkling water splotches on her dark-gray tee. Not cool at all. But Kael brushed it off. Goddess knows, when she was headlong into her chemo treatments, she had learned to forgive the body much.

“So, I’m glad you met me. A lot of women turn off when I refuse to send a pic,” Ambera said, as she sipped from a glass of white wine, luminescent as the sun kissed the day good-bye. Artfully strung Christmas lights turned on at the first hint of dark, giving the courtyard a festive atmosphere. The last plague of grackles flew off.

Kael leaned in. “I didn’t figure you to be a troll.” Kael’s deep voice, as thick as agave, had a positive effect on femmes she knew. Ambera leaned in. Her breasts hovered an inch off the table. Kael thought briefly of sliding her hand under that heavy tit, discretely palming the soft round until she could feel Ambera’s nipple harden.

“A man I am defiantly not,” Ambera said, gently tossing her head back and showing a thin line of pearls at her throat.

The pearls got Kael’s attention. Her post did specifically state she was looking for a lesbian, not interested in marrieds or experimenters of any kind. She’d been out a long, long time, before it was remotely cool, when writing for the Boston Gay Community News was considered a rogue career for a tyke dyke from Minnesota. While she had sympathy for those newly negotiating the hot, thorny path of lesbianism, Kael had run the distance and knew what she wanted: a mature, attractive, high-femme LESBIAN, available for sensuous adventure.

Kael checked Ambera’s fingers for a wedding ring: she wore several rings with inset jewels but nothing obvious. She decided that further conversation would provide the answer. Besides, this chick was smokin’ hot, and maybe she didn’t want to dredge up complications that could muddy the waters.

Kael looked into Ambera’s eyes, trying to discern the color. She must be wearing contacts… who had eyes the color of the earth and sea?

“So, you’re living in Austin…” Kael started, noticing the approval in Ambera’s gaze as she gripped the bottle. She grabbed her Chico tighter, flexing her forearm.

“Pflugerville,” Ambera corrected her.

Freaking Pflugerville? That was a nondescript suburb about seventeen miles north of Austin, layered with tracts of five-bedroom /four-bath homes, where populating families lived in developments like Happy Blanco Trail Village. It was the given territory of straights.

“But I’d move back into the city in a heartbeat,” Ambera told her. “I love the energy, being in the mix!” Kael was struck by Ambera’s sweet allure.

“It’s got its charm for sure. And being able to get to the Congress Street Bridge in twenty minutes is great.” Kael didn’t want to start the conversation of how crowded Austin had gotten, what with a thousand hipsters moving to the “Live Music Capital of the World” each month.

Kael noted that Ambera was staring… longingly it seemed… at her hands. She looked down. Peasant hands. Part of her Polish heritage. She was about to pull them off the table when Ambera took one of her hands in both of hers, which were soft and well manicured.

“Hands make the butch.” Ambera trailed her nail along Kael’s generous thumb. “Strong. And warm.”

Hands are a big part of the butch/femme dynamic. They are the very instruments of sensuous encounters and delivering pleasure… squeezing, teasing, caressing and entering. Ambera emitted that rare femme steam known only to women dedicated to arousing butch sensibility.

Kael let her hand rest in Ambera’s, aware of the voltage flowing between them. She moved herself closer; now Ambera’s thigh rested against her own. Nice legs, set off by metallic point-toe pumps. Ambera followed Kael’s stare. “Yes, Jimmy Choo. I’m a shoe whore.” She took a deep sip of her wine. “My weakness.” She paused, looking pointedly at Kael. “One of them, anyway.”

“Mine too… but not necessarily on me.” Kael squeezed Ambera’s hands and gently let her grasp drop.

“So, what would you like to tell me?”

She soon found out Ambera was brought up in a wealthy suburb of Chicago, immersed in the Catholic tradition. During college, she began her lesbian life, dating many women before discovering her preference for butches. She seemed most fond of a butch who insisted on wearing a tux every Saturday night, á la Fran Lebowitz. You could get away with that in the ’80s.

Whatever perfume Ambera was wearing drew Kael closer. She longed to slide her hand up the inside of Ambera’s thigh, continuing until her fingers encountered that sweet warmth of pussy, gently tapping the fabric of Ambera’s panties, then tracing her index finger along the labia and clit—a request to enter farther, deeper. But a butch doesn’t request so much as perceive, then deftly follow the femme’s desire. Kael was good at it, mining and responding to a femme’s desire. Very good.

The steam emitting from Ambera suddenly evaporated. She looked at her phone. “I do have to go. A previous supper engagement.” This was news to Kael, who immediately drew into a defensive posture.

“Oh, please forgive me. It was arranged prior to meeting you,” Ambera insisted. “I didn’t expect to… find you so attractive.” Flattery certainly engages the butch.

“Do you like the lake? Would you join me Friday afternoon?” Ambera asked. “I have a motorboat, nothing fancy, docked on Lake Travis. I’ll make a nice lunch, and we’ll have a day in the sun.”

“Let me think, my schedule…” Kael trailed off. As a freelance writer, she was in relative control of her working hours.

Ambera continued, “And, I’d really like”—she discreetly eased her pointed toe up Kael’s shin—“to get to know you better.” Just the right touch, yeah.

Struggling to keep some control, Kael countered, “Well, I’ll have to clear some things. But, yeah, the early afternoon would work out okay.”

“I’ll text you the address.” She gathered her purse and rose. Kael stood as well. Still a bit disconcerted, but ever courteous. She wondered if she was an easy mark.

Walking back to her car, Kael felt two distinct rings in her ears: in her left, the peal of a warning bell, and in the right, the swirling, empty breeze of the lonely. Would she in fact meet Ambera on Friday? Indeed she would. Spring temps in Austin ranged from the fifties to high eighties, and the end of the week was supposed to be very warm.

Friday afternoon found Kael making her way down the ramp to Ambera’s boat. Her speedboat was quite fancy, white, tricked out with red metallic detail and an engine as big as Dallas. The warning bell again. She had a big boat, was wearing a floral-print beach dress, hair tastefully swept back and in a headband: that well-off, suburban housewife mien. Still, Ambera had an unmistakable femme aura: the holding of a certain power, with the desire to swoon in the presence of a strong butch.

A gang of dock boys, horsing around for Ambera’s attention, dispersed as Kael walked up. The pleased smile on Ambera’s face encouraged Kael as she jumped into the boat, swinging a backpack full of Pacificos and lime.

“You can put the beer in the cooler there,” she told Kael, who eyed Ambera’s shapely leg showing thru the slit of her dress. She could see why the dock boys vied for her attention. Kael knew her way around a boat, attending to the castoff lines and fenders as the wind pushed them off.

“I’m taking us to a cove I love. Quiet. Isolated,” Ambera said, and after an appropriate idle, executed a turn and began to ford the shallows of the lake. Kael wasn’t fond of Lake Travis, a man-made luxury, filled with the waters of the Colorado River. She felt the vibes of the towns razed to create it reverberate through her the few times she swam in it. But the weather was splendid, and under the influence of late spring sun, the water was ultramarine. Ambera pulled her sunglasses halfway down her sweet nose. Her eyes were greener today, her gaze amused and sultry. Kael allowed herself a half smirk, which emphasized the dimple on her right cheek.

“Nice boat,” she said casually. Yeah, Kael knew how to work it. Ambera smiled, teeth white against her lipstick. “Handsome. Oh my, yeah,” Kael heard as Ambera pushed up the throttle.

As they sped across Lake Travis, Kael checked to see if the boat was outfitted for a family… kid-sized lifejackets or water toys. Nothing visible. Ambera the mystery. Kael was up for a day of adventure and discovery. And if it went right, hot outdoor sex.

Ambera guided the speedboat expertly. How marvelous, thought Kael, as Ambera’s curvaceous physique rolled with the chop of the lake, hair flowing, breasts heaving, manicured fingers lightly touching the wheel.

“A beer, please?” Ambera placed her hand on Kael’s shoulder and then held on to her T-shirt for a few seconds. Her touch was needing and possessive.

“Sure thing.” Kael rifled through the ice chest, feeling her hand freeze up. One of the hangovers from chemo… cold temps forced her hands temporarily into claws. She managed to fish out two Pacificos and warmed her hand under her thigh while pretending to look for the bottle opener. Ambera didn’t notice the delay.

Kael handed her a beer, then raised a longneck bottle to her own lips.

After twenty minutes of buzzing along a shoreline with humongous stones that had cacti clinging to them, Ambera pulled the boat into a cove lined with relatively new trees, offering the illusion of privacy. It was still early; the hordes of party boats wouldn’t be appearing until sunset. Lake Travis was well loved and used by many.

“Finally, home!” Ambera pointed to the anchor, and Kael grabbed the chain and climbed the bow. She looked back at Ambera, whose eyes had followed her. Ambera’s pink lips were wet and parted slightly, appearing extremely kissable. Kael wanted to ravish her then and there. But waiting it out, refining the tease, often brought just desserts, so she would play it cool.

She dropped anchor, yanked the chain to catch bottom and jumped back into the boat. Ambera unbuttoned her dress, revealing a red and black bikini underneath. Kael slowly let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding; they were in close proximity for the first time. Kael picked up Ambera’s scent, more sweet than spicy, and then felt the heat her body radiated. She was a few inches taller, her luscious breasts at Kael’s nose, pressed together into a cleavage Kael longed to nuzzle.

Instead, Kael pulled off her T-shirt, dropped her cargo shorts and retrieved the Bain de Soleil from the pocket. She wore a shiny black Ironman one-piece, designed to emphasize muscle and shape.

“Ah, I love the smell of Bain de Soleil… brings back memories,” Ambera said, as she took the tube and began rubbing the gel onto Kael’s well-defined shoulders. “Nineteen. First serious girlfriend. Now she’s an old-school butch living the dream in Indiana, with grandchildren.” Her touch was firm and knowing. She declined when Kael offered to apply the gel on her, instead suggesting they get the floats from the cabinet. She chose a hot-pink float and passed the green to Kael. Both had rope attached.

“We’ll loop the rope through the hooks on the boat.” Ambera tossed her float overboard and gracefully jumped in. She surfaced quickly. “Cold.” She climbed onto her raft and looked up. With her hair slicked back and skin glistening, she looked like a goddess of the sea.

“How about getting my sunglasses and digging out another beer, Daddy-o?” Ambera asked, subtly adjusting her breasts in her bikini.

Kael opened the cooler, pushed a slice of lime into each bottle, then handed sunglasses and a Pacifico down to Ambera. Now she could drop in her float, execute a perfect dive off the stern and situate herself closer. She collected her body into form and dove, barely making a splash.

Kael opened her eyes. The water was an odd hue of blue-green, slightly murky. She was reminded of how un-alive the lake felt, although her body had always loved the lack of gravity and freedom that water, any water, offered. She transformed into a dolphin of sorts, playful—and was glad that Ambera had invited her for a day on the lake. The weeks of chemo were banked in her memory, but deep in her root, she felt the need to connect, to push her hips firmly into a woman’s mons and grind, baby, grind.

When she surfaced, Ambera caught her eye. “Impressive. A butch mermaid,” she said, and laughed. It was nice to be the object of her delight. Kael swam to Ambera’s float. She was lying on her side, her curves silhouetted by the sun. Kael scissor-kicked, bringing her face next to Ambera’s. She kissed her, instantly surprised by the hot energy that flowed through her from that brief lip-lock.

“Hmmm,” was Ambera’s sweet reply before taking a deep drink of Pacifico. “Near perfect day, huh?” Ambera put her beer in the cup holder, lay back, bent one leg provocatively and took in the sun. Ambera knew the art of the tease well.

Kael situated herself on her float, fetched her beer from the stern step and took a long swig. Getting Ambera back in the boat was the best way to get traction and action. She longed to pry Ambera’s thighs apart with her strong hips, take up an ample breast in each hand, and looking into her blue-green eyes, deliver a real kiss. Several kisses. Forever kisses. Down the proverbial throat kisses. Kael quickly finished her beer. “Another?” she asked, holding up her empty bottle.

“Most definitely.” Ambera turned over on her float, her ass nicely curved. Kael popped off the tops and placed the beers on the stern. Again she dove, watching her shadow as she hit the warmish water. She surfaced, retrieved the beers and handed one to Ambera, purposely avoiding her touch.

Kael mounted her float like a pony, gathered the two ropes and tethered them to the boat. They drifted away from each other, slipping into the water to cool off, slowly sipping at their beers. After a while, Kael paddled over to Ambera’s raft, and Ambera reached out and ran her fingers through Kael’s hair, creating spikes, and then caressed her chin. They paused, taking each other in for a steamy moment, the water lapping the only sound.

“Sweet butch,” Ambera said, stroking gently, delivering a calling card to Kael’s cunt. Kael angled in and kissed Ambera’s lips, firm, slightly moist, yet pliant. Ambera’s lipstick added a bit of sticky friction, and Kael leaned in to taste and explore the corners of her mouth.

“You’re completely lovely, you know.” Kael placed her hand on Ambera’s shoulder, and moved it to her left breast, palming it, raising the nipple through the fabric.

Ambera reached for her thin strap and pulled it down, revealing a creamy breast with a rosy nipple, contrasting with her tan line. “Is this what you like, sailor?” she asked, cupping the mound with a manicured hand. Kael answered by moving in and placing her mouth on Ambera’s tit, enjoying its heft and warmth. Excited, she increased the suck, and nearly flipped her raft.

“Want to continue in the boat?” Kael recognized the slur of passion in her voice.

“No, let’s stay in the water. I love just floating here with you.” Ambera’s hand fingered her raft. “But another beer would be sweet, merman. And then, maybe you could dive deep somewhere else.”

Kael took up Ambera’s empty bottle, swam to the boat and hoisted herself up the ladder. She looked around: all was quiet in the cove, unless there was a perv hanging out in one of the surrounding trees. But she was far too turned on to worry about that now. She had to figure out how to take Ambera in the water. To possess her.

She placed the Pacificos on the ladder, dove and swam to the rear of Ambera’s float. Treading with her sturdy legs, she ran her hands up Ambera’s legs and over her soft ass. Ambera removed her shades. Her eyes were curious and smoldering. Then, raising her ass in the air, Ambera slipped her bikini bottom down to her knees. Kael scissor-kicked and glimpsed the curl of Ambera’s labia. Sweet, dark pink, shaved smooth. Must have.

Gripping each side of Ambera’s raft, Kael kicked hard and landed on the lower half, submerging it about four inches. Her face was now neatly planted at the juncture between Ambera’s legs. Kael extended her tongue and sucked in Ambera’s lips, angling for her vaginal tunnel, tasting her. She breathed deep, taking in the scents of salt and musk. Ambera shuddered, reached back and gripped Kael’s hair as her able tongue continued to flick and tug at Ambera’s meaty labia. Her lips engorged with excitement, deepening into rose.

“Nothing like a tongue dance on the lake,” Ambera sighed as Kael increased the pressure and pull, rewarded by the juice sliding from Ambera’s cunt. The water rose and receded as Kael thrust her tongue as deep as she could.

Soon enough, Kael slid Ambera’s bikini bottom down to her ankles, fully exposing her marvelous ass. Kael, treading, turned the raft and sank her teeth into Ambera’s weighty buttcheek, creating a bite mark that quickly faded in the afternoon sun. And then, like a child tempted, she bit again.

“Don’t waste much time, do you, sailor?” Ambera moved her butt provocatively, and Kael slapped it with a cupped hand. A pink welt appeared. She splashed a bit of lake water on it, not sure if it would soothe or sting.

“Not one hot minute, baby.” Kael then kissed where she had slapped. She wondered if Ambera’s ass entrance was a darker rose, and how tight. She longed to lie full length next to her, slowly pushing her thumb up Ambera’s butthole, without lube, while the rest of her hand briskly rubbed Ambera’s sweet cunt and clit to completion. But they were in the water, shakily maneuvering on a raft losing air, and if not for Kael’s swimming prowess, might be drowning by now.

Staying afloat using a modified frog kick, Kael got back to the business of stroking Ambera’s mons, finally parting the curtains and finding Ambera’s clit, hard as a jewel. She teased the nub, observing the writhe and roll of Ambera’s body, listening to her rich moans of pleasure.

Soon, Ambera’s voice thick and husky, requested it. “Inside. Please.”

Sinking the raft deeper with her body weight, Kael guided her middle finger into Ambera’s snug pussy. How excellent the warmth of the sweet, moist cave compared to the coolish temperature of Lake Travis. Kael slowly pulled out to the threshold, circled and then drove two fingers in with more force. Ambera bucked and shuddered. Getting owned. Kael pushed in and out of Ambera’s fine cunt, picking up the pace, then slowing in dream-like rhythm.

“Ain’t I master of this ship?” Kael wasn’t really expecting an answer. The answer came from Ambera’s moans, the pink-painted fingernails of one hand digging into the side of her float, the other hand at her cunt, wildly massaging her clitoris. The beer bottle rocked precariously in its holder as Ambera’s velvety ass bumped the raft gently, causing rings to fan out over the lake’s surface.

Kael filled her lungs with air and paused for a moment. Ten months ago, she’d lain in a single bed, nauseous as hell, bald, vaguely aware of the cadre of friends attending to her. And here she was, relatively buff, hair thick and now silver, with an inviting woman, afloat in her favorite element. Small, simple miracles turning the day.

Kael swam to the side of Ambera’s float and opened her lips with her tongue. There was great pleasure in kissing and caressing her face with watery fingers. Ambera answered with kisses that were submissive, yet returned with a nuanced heat. Her lips sought, then took up Kael’s thumb. Ambera sucked deeply. Kael immediately felt radiating heat in her root chakra, hardly cooled by the tepid lake.

Ambera slowly removed Kael’s thumb from her hot mouth and began moving it down her torso to her mons.

“I’ve got a thing for thumbs,” she whispered into Kael’s ear while spreading her well-shaped legs. Kael dearly hoped there wasn’t some ass-hat with a camera on shore, ready to scurry home and post their tryst on some porn site. This was the stuff of universal fantasy, and they were creating it. Kael was drawn back into the moment by Ambera’s murmur.

“Fill me up, merman. You know you can.” Ambera shifted onto her back, raised her hips slightly off the raft and began fiddling her clitoris. Kael, gaining purchase on the side of the raft deliberately pushed her thickish thumb into Ambera’s sweet tunnel, the rest of her powerful fingers angled tightly against her anus. Treading vigorously, she managed to continue their kiss. Both sets of Ambera’s lips opened and closed with each thumb thrust.

After a novel’s worth of steady strokes, Ambera tightened her asscheeks, gathered the raft with both hands, and heaved, letting out several musical sighs.

Sated, she gave Kael a smile, and drank a bit of her over-warmed beer. “And how about you, sweet merman… or are you stone?” While she wasn’t exactly stone, Kael was wearing a tight one-piece and frankly, not ready to expose her mastectomy scars to Ambera or anyone else on the planet. Not yet. And she wasn’t sure if ever.

With no answer forthcoming, eyes steady on Kael, Ambera lay back and relaxed her grip on the beer bottle, which hit the water with an exhausted splash.

Kael avoided Ambera’s eyes and smiled shyly. “Gonna go catch that.” She put her face in the water and headed for the deep. She dolphin-kicked and caught the Pacifico bottle at about twelve feet.

Kael stayed suspended in the midnight blue of the lake, feeling an odd peace. Moments, maybe hours passed. When she looked up, she saw Ambera’s brilliant pink raft slowly turning circles on the steamy surface.