lips and tongue

You like her hands, don’t you darling? When her fingers are combing through your hair so soft and gentle, when you’re lying on her and she’s holding you close. Her hands are the only things moving then, her hands and you as you rise and fall with her even, slow breathing.

You like when she cups your cheek, palm soft and warm against your skin. You like when she cups your cheek and holds you still while she takes her time to lick into your mouth and kiss you so deep. Her hand is the only thing holding you in place while she bites your lips and licks every rasping moan off your tongue.

You love when she drags her nails down your chest, along your ribs and hooks around your hips. When she teases you with those slow little circles, smiling at you while she tells you every dirty thing she wants to do to you and won’t you let her puppy, please?

You love when those hands hold your legs open, push them just a little wider. When her nails dig into your skin and leave sweet little marks, when she makes it hurt so sugar sweet and you gasp as she bites and nips and sucks.

You love her hands when they’re touching you, there’s no doubt about that, but there’s one thing you love best, right darling? Mhmm, your favourite is when her fingers curl around your throat, palm warm where it holds warm and steady. Your favourite is when she squeezes, when she pins you down with a hand around your throat and the other between your thighs and whispers how pretty you are when your cheeks are flushed so red and you’re so wet it must hurt.

You love her best when her lips are at your ear, asking you what you want. Do you want to cum? Do you want her to squeeze tighter? You’ve been such a good little pet, you deserve a reward, so what would you like darling? Do speak up.

And when you can’t answer because she’s choking you so good and nice, the way you like, she rocks against you. When you can’t answer because it’s so much, too much and not enough. She tells you that if you can’t answer, then she’ll have to choose for you and she wants you to cum. She’d like you to cum for her right now darling, cum from just her hands, when you’re gasping for a breath and everything’s the sweetest kind of fuzzy.

You love that, don’t you?

Mommymaxie
So Sayeth, Your Lord

hearing your little moans

October 7, 2018

do you want to know what i’ve been thinking about, kitten?

i’ve been thinking about spreading you open on my fingers, petting your wet, swollen pussy and hearing your little moans.

you let me lean down to taste you, angel? do you want my tongue on your clit, just the way you like, licking you so sweetly?

you look so pretty on your back, legs spread wide like a good girl.

SOURCE

Femme Fatale

September 2, 2018


From The Femme Mystique, ed. Lesléa Newman.

converse for ever

September 1, 2018

We might go to moonlight ruins, cafés, dances, plays: converse for ever; sleep only while the moon covers herself for an instant with a thin veil.

Virginia Woolf
Letter to Vita Sackville-West, September 1928

When I Was Straight

June 16, 2018

I did not love women as I do now.
I loved them with my eyes closed, my back turned.
I loved them silent, & startled, & shy.

The world was a dreamless slumber party,
sleeping bags like straitjackets spread out on
the living room floor, my face pressed into a

slender pillow.

All night I woke to rain on the strangers’ windows.
No one remembered to leave a light on in the hall.
Someone’s father seemed always to be shaving.

When I stood up, I tried to tiptoe
around the sleeping bodies, their long hair
speckled with confetti, their faces blanched by the

porch-light moon.

I never knew exactly where the bathroom was.
I tried to wake the host girl to ask her, but she was
only one adrift in that sea of bodies. I was ashamed

to say they all looked the same to me, beautiful &
untouchable as stars. It would be years before
I learned to find anyone in the sumptuous,

terrifying dark.

Julie Marie Wade

How could I be femme

June 10, 2018

I started to find butch women in movies and books and queer erotica, and they captivated me. But in those precious few portrayals, butches were paired with femmes, and that dynamic left me hopeless. Based on what I watched and read, femmes were petite, curvy, pretty women. How could I be femme if I was too tall, too broad-shouldered, too strong-jawed? How could I be femme with my flat chest and scarred face? The butches I saw in fiction didn’t want a woman like that. The one dynamic that was presented to me led me to believe I couldn’t exist in queer spaces. So I stayed in the closet, in the dark of my own doubts and insecurities.

But the quiet certainty of queerness didn’t leave me. I thought, sometimes, I’d go crazy if I couldn’t touch another woman.

Katrina
Relearning how to dress myself from the closet I came out of

teasing tongues

May 20, 2018

good friends playing nicely

The first time I had sex with a woman, just her and I, I marvelled at the pace. Sex with men always felt pressing, driven by an intensity that climbed quickly. Sometimes I liked that energy, it made me feel wanted, desired. The rush was fun, like tearing open a present. Other times I felt like we skipped over the good parts, like I could have pressed against him while he kissed my neck for hours. Sometimes I felt like I was trying to catch up, I was too young and inexperienced to say “Slow down.”

The first time I had sex with a woman, and it was just her and I, we kissed for hours. Literally hours. Slow, tender, swollen-lips, hands in our hair, teasing tongues, moans and soft sounds, our hips pressing together, in no hurry but never staying still. By the time I pressed my hand between her legs her panties were soaked right through. That little wet spot made fireworks in my head, my clit throbbed. This was divine. I didn’t pull her cotton underwear aside until she was already close to orgasm, just from my fingertips tracing over the fabric, and her eager grinding against my palm.

After she came we slowed down but never stopped touching each other until she’d had her second, third and fourth. There’s a difference between “I came” and “I’m satiated”. Fucking someone who understood that made sex an entirely new thing. We fucked until we were finished, exhausted and spent. I finally felt satisfied.

The next time a man touched me all I could feel was the energy propelled by his hard-on. The rush that rush-of-blood to his cock put him in. I felt like I wasn’t there.

Heart
Reflections
Queer Enough, 2018

love with claws and teeth

January 30, 2018

Girls love each other like animals. There is something ferocious and unself-conscious about it. We don’t guard ourselves like we do with boys. No one trains us to shield our hearts from each other. With girls, it’s total vulnerability from the beginning. Our skin is bare and soft. We love with claws and teeth and the blood is just proof of how much. It’s feral.

And it’s relentless.

Leah Raeder
Black Iris

love every centimetre

December 24, 2017

I’m not a boobs or booty kind of girl, I’m an everything kind of girl,
I will get excited about your ears and your fingers,
I’ll lose my train of thought over your shoulders and down your back,
Your legs will need to be draped over me in some form at all times of relaxing so that I can run my hands over them,
Or your back will find a rest against my chest and between my arms,
I will praise your forehead and your eyes,
I will tickle the back sides of your knees,
I’ll blow warm air onto your cheeks and kiss your smile,
Sometimes your frown,
I will touch every inch of you that you allow me to touch because I will not solely love the curve of your ass cheek or the perk of your breast,
I will love every centimetre of you,
When I am focused on you,
You become more than a warm body to me,
You become my laughter and the place I need to mindlessly touch to feel home,
I will love all of you.

Asa Henson