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From: "Katherine T." <katherinet_@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} City of Women (lesbian, FF) (Katherine T.)
Date: Sun, 29 Oct 2000 21:10:06 -0500
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{ASSM} City of Women (lesbian, FF) (Katherine T.)
The following entertainment is for adults only, and anyone not
an adult is hereby warned to go away.
All comments to the author will be greatly appreciated.
Contact me at katherinet_@hotmail.com
A repository of erotic fiction by Katherine T can be found at
the following URL:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Katherine_T
Author's note: I wrote this story some years ago under another
pseudonym. I've made some changes and I'm now posting the new
version for the first time on ASSM.
City of Women
by Katherine T.
Saturday noon and Terry is looking at her face in the
bathroom mirror. She hardly ever likes what she sees. Too thin,
too tall, too bony. Too many fine lines already around the eyes.
Brown hair too dull. Lips just a bit too full. And too much
alone. It's been almost a year since her last love affair. She's
had lovers but no love affairs. Too much time has gone by. She
feels an ache as she thinks of how three years went down the
drain when Alyson walked onto that plane and flew away. Alyson
flying away like a bird. Terry tells herself not to think about
it. Enough. She washes her face and she walks into the bedroom to
get dressed for the planned visit to the museum downtown. A
Matisse exhibit. She doesn't want to miss that one. Matisse is
always so restful to look at. Checkerboards and odalisques. Terry
forgets her problems as she anticipates an afternoon with
Matisse.
What a surprise to find the museum isn't that crowded. It's
the last weekend of the exhibit, and Terry expected to find a
mob. Instead there aren't more than a few dozen people wandering
through the rooms. She decides to take her time. No sense rushing
in the absence of a crowd; no sense rushing through Matisse.
She dawdles before each painting, each drawing, each card
describing the picture next to it, and she notices another woman
who is also dawdling. The other woman is short, chunky, short
curly hair, not a trace of makeup on her face, with the loveliest
dark eyes, thick dark eyebrows, a quiet confidence in her look
and a posture that plucks at Terry's core because the woman
reminds her so much of Alyson. No, this woman may be more
interesting than Alyson. This woman looks stronger, both mentally
and physically. This woman starts Terry dreaming. Why not? She
looks at the pictures and she thinks about the woman. Imaginings.
Those breasts are not small. Dark nipples because the eyes are
dark. Terry imagines wide nipples on the large breasts, the tips
pointed, provocative. She imagines a thick-lipped pussy, dark,
hot, a brown and red tropical flower. And a large defiant-looking
clitoris. Nothing turns her on more than a clitoris large enough
to be defiant, a clitoris that begs to be worked by fingers and
tongue.
They move in tandem from one room to another. Are they
stalking each other? Is the woman as interested in Terry as Terry
is interested in the woman? The idea causes Terry's pulse to
quicken, a slow heat rising to warm her chest. Now when she gazes
at each picture she doesn't see much, hardly anything at all
because she's thinking about the woman. She imagines the two of
them in a sauna. Sweat on their bodies, white towels hardly
covering anything. Those large breasts revealed, the nipples like
thick dark fingers. Without a word, the woman moves to sit beside
Terry on the bench in the heat of the sauna, and without a word
Terry leans over and she runs her tongue over the woman's round
shoulder to gather the moisture on her skin and taste it. The
woman chuckles and asks if Terry likes it.
"Like it, baby?"
"Yes."
"Here, have some of this." And the woman lifts a large
breast and points the fat nipple at Terry's mouth.
Terry takes the nipple and sucks it. The taste oscillates
from salty to sweet and back to salty again. She pushes the
woman's hands away and she holds the breast herself. She nurses
at it. No thought of foreplay, just nursing. Sucking. Taking more
of the flesh of the breast in her mouth.
"I never know what to really think of Matisse," the woman
says.
What?
This is not a sauna, this is the museum. Terry is shocked to
find the woman standing beside her in front of one of Matisse's
odalisques, the odalisque wearing Turkish pants but naked from
the waist up as she lies on a mat with one arm behind her head,
her breasts perfectly round and with cherry red points.
"I wish he'd been a woman," the woman beside Terry says.
Terry looks at her, looks down at her because she's taller.
"Why?"
The woman shrugs. "I like this stuff, and I'd rather it be
done by a woman."
So they start talking. About Matisse, about the museum,
about living in the city. Terry's gaze drops to the woman's
manicured fingernails. She can imagine those hands stroking her
body, touching her secret places. They continue moving from
picture to picture, talking, looking silently, then talking
again. Laughing sometimes when the woman says something amusing
about one of the pictures.
"I'm Kit," the woman says.
Kit. Terry likes the name.
"I'm Terry."
"Well, Terry, I guess this is the end of the exhibit."
"Yes."
"Would you like some coffee? I know a nice place down the
street."
"I'd love it."
"Or we could hop a cab to my place. I make the best
cappuccino in town."
"I'd love that even better."
During the ten minutes from the museum to Kit's place, Terry
feels as though she's on the edge of something, maybe something
important, certainly something exciting. Kit excites her.
Kit's place is small but fascinating. She has a travelling
job of some kind. She collects things, exquisite little souvenirs
from exotic places. The apartment has a sensuous ambience that
captivates Terry.
The cappuccino is delicious. They sit on the sofa beside
each other, close enough so their knees touch.
"Are you living with anyone?" Kit says.
"No, not for a long time."
"Me too."
"I like you."
Kit smiles. "Yeah, I like you too."
Terry sighs and closes her eyes as Kit leans forward and
kisses her. Kit's lips are warm and soft on her mouth. She yields
completely, melting under the kiss. She feels Kit's hand on her
thigh, and the touch burns through her jeans.
Kit pulls away, and when Terry opens her eyes, she sees Kit
sipping her cappuccino.
Kit looks at her. "I always get nervous with someone new."
"Why?"
"I'm never sure, you know. I'm always rushing it."
"I don't feel rushed."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Why don't you kiss me again?"
Kit does just that. This time the kiss is much hotter, Kit's
tongue pushing into Terry's waiting mouth, Kit's hand sliding
between Terry's thighs to cup Terry's crotch through her jeans.
Then Kit's hand moves again, her fingers working at Terry's belt.
Terry breaks the kiss and helps her, their fingers tugging at the
belt, the buttons, the zipper, their hands working the jeans down
Terry's thighs and legs, until finally Kit stands up to pull
Terry's shoes off her feet. First the shoes and then the jeans.
Kit pulls at the jeans, pulls them completely off Terry's
outstretched legs and drapes them over the back of a chair.
"That's better," Kit says.
Terry is excited. Her pussy is throbbing now, and she puts a
hand between her legs to touch her clit through her white
panties.
"No, that's for me," Kit says. She sits on the sofa beside
Terry again, kisses Terry's mouth and slips her hand between
Terry's open thighs to the wet gusset of Terry's panties.
Terry opens her knees wide. She wants it. She moans under
Kit's lips as she feels the soft caress of Kit's fingers.
"What do you like?" Kit says.
"I like everything."
Kit chuckles. "I thought you would."
Terry wants to be taken. She wants to be ravished. Kit knows
it, and her skilled fingers pull the crotch of Terry's panties
aside to get where Terry needs them. Terry groans. A white hot
rush fills her belly. She keeps her eyes closed as she imagines
Kit's fingers creamy with her juices. Kit continues moving her
fingers, rubbing along the shaft of Terry's clitoris, rubbing
over it, down to the wet hole then up again. Rubbing harder.
Terry gasps.
Kit bites the lobe of Terry's ear. "Come on, baby. Come for
me."
Terry comes, her whole body trembling as the tingling spasm
flows through it. She groans. She leans back. She gently pumps
her cunt at Kit's fingers.
When Terry opens her eyes, she flushes with new excitement
as she catches Kit licking her wet fingertips.
"Let's get naked," Terry says.
Kit smiles, her hands already working at her clothes. Terry
finishes first, and then she leans back and she waits for Kit.
When Kit is naked, she sits on the sofa again with her hands
lifting the weight of her large breasts. Her nipples are dark,
thick, just as Terry imagined them.
Terry leans over and she runs her tongue over Kit's round
shoulder to taste her skin.
Kit chuckles as she holds a breast higher. "And this, baby.
Here, take this."
Terry takes the breast, sucking at the nipple, tugging it
with her lips and teeth. Then she releases it and she looks up at
Kit.
"Have you ever been in a sauna?"
Kit shrugs. "Sure, but a long time ago."
"Maybe we'll go sometime," Terry says.
And she bends again to fill her mouth with Kit's breast.
I love the city, Terry thinks. She loves the city of women.
end
All comments to the author will be greatly appreciated.
Contact me at katherinet_@hotmail.com
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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