Lesbian Erotica: Never Have I Ever Chapter 1
Kyra Anderson and Simmons Caruthers have been inseparable best friends since they started Liston University, and he just abandoned the bar, dragging his boyfriend Lucas upstairs.
“Guess it’s just you and me, babes,” Kyra shouts to Lucas Brown’s BFF-since-kindergarten, Samantha Tryon. She drains her cocktail of the evening, some glowing shit Simmons concocted out of absinthe. “Shot?” she yells to Samantha.
Samantha shrugs. “Why not?” she yells back.
“What?” Kyra shouts.
“I said, ‘Why not?’”
Kyra pours two shots of absinthe straight from the bottle and hands one to Samantha. “Bottoms up, girlfriend!” she yells. They clink glasses and throw them back. Samantha wipes her mouth on the back of her hand.
“Goddamn, that shit is potent,” she shouts.
Kyra shakes her head in frustration, reaches over and turns down the speaker next to them. “Sorry, I can’t fucking hear a word you’re saying.”
“I said that shit is potent,” Samantha says.
“No shit; it’s supposed to get you plowed.” Kyra hops on the bar and pulls Samantha with her. Then she pours them each another shot. “One more of the green-eyed witch,” she says.
“I don’t know, it’s pretty—”
“Look, our boys are upstairs fucking. What else are we supposed to do?”
They clink shot glasses again and throw the liquor back. It’s licorice-y, a warm burn down the back of Samantha’s throat. Kyra hooks her heels back on the bar railing. Anyone walking by can probably see up her dress, but Samantha realizes she probably doesn’t give a fuck. Sam leans back instead, knees slightly apart. Fuck it. Give the boys a show. At least loser Justin will have something to jerk off about later.
“Any plans for the evening?” Kyra asks.
“Get drunk,” Samantha says.
“I meant anyone,” Kyra says.
“Not really,” Samantha says. The liquor’s starting to spread out through her limbs, that warm, loose feeling. “Truth? I’m kinda bored with Austin. Not like it’s a thing with us, but still.”
“Need some new entertainment, huh?” Kyra asks. She leans towards Samantha slightly. Her dress is dark, dark, dark in the blacklight, but teasingly white bits of her bra glow out of the top. Samantha knows her well enough to realize it’s intentional.
“Pretty much.” Samantha yanks at her own black dress. It’s riding up her thighs again.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, it looks cute,” Kyra says. “The boys like to look.” She smirks. “So do some of the girls.”
“Oh yeah?” Samantha says. She pushes herself up off her arms. “Like which ones?”
“You guess. If you’re right, I take a shot. You’re wrong, you do.”
Samantha laughs. “That might be a lot of fucking shots.”
“Do you really have anything better to do?”
“Do you?” Samantha asks.
Kyra smirks again. “Not really.” She scoots closer to Samantha so their thighs are touching. “All right. We’ll do easy. Vodka, not absinthe.”
“Null and void; we think she’s asexual.”
“Kirsten.” Samantha grins.
“Cheater,” Kyra says, because everyone knows Kirsten likes girls. But she takes a shot anyway.
“Hmmm … Gretchen.”
“Nope.” Kyra pours Samantha two fingers of vodka. She throws it back, glad she showed up stone-cold sober.
Samantha looks out at the crowd of people dancing under the blacklight. The couches have been pushed up against the walls; people have already claimed them as prime make-out spots. “Dr. Sanders,” she says.
“Nope; we think she fucked one of the other profs.” Kyra hands her another shot.
Samantha purses her lips, then twists them into a grin. “You,” she says.
Kyra downs a shot. “And you’ve got a pretty mouth,” she tells Samantha. “What about you?”
“Are we playing Never Have I Ever now?”
“Sure. Never have I ever kissed a girl.”
Samantha holds out her hand. Kyra pours them each a finger of vodka. They clink glasses and down them.
“Okay,” Kyra says. “Never have I ever played with tits.”
Samantha holds out her hand again. Both down another finger of vodka.
“Never have I ever hooked up with a girl.”
Samantha narrows her eyes. “What’s that mean?” she asks.
“Don’t play cute,” Kyra says.
“No, what do you mean, exactly, ‘hooked up’?”
“Want me to show you, honey?” Kyra leans over further. Samantha can see down her dress.
Samantha smirks. The liquor’s loosened her up. “Sure, honey.”
Kyra hops down from the bar. Solicitously, she holds out her hand to Samantha, who takes it and drops down next to her. Kyra grabs her wrist and threads her way through the crowd, to the stairs. Up the stairs. Samantha bites her lip. She hasn’t made out with a girl since freshman year of college. It’s her second year of graduate school now, five years later, and she’s getting butterflies about the prospect of doing it again.
Kyra keeps hold of her wrist all the way down the hall, where she drops it to open the door. She holds it for Samantha. “After you,” she says, a smile twisting up her lips.
Samantha steps inside. It’s a rich girl’s room, and a pretty one—velvet comforter on the bed, high-end makeup scattered on the dresser, the bureau, the sink. The closet’s crammed full of clothes, and a very fluffy, very pink robe hangs from a knob on the back of the bathroom door. It smells like Chanel and clean laundry.
“Like my room?” Kyra asks.
“At least you know how to clean up, unlike Lucas.”
“Yeah,” Kyra says. She yanks the comforter down. “But I don’t like getting the velvet fucked up.” She shoves Samantha—it doesn’t take much of a push—and she’s on her back on the bed. “I prefer actual sheets, thanks.”
For a stomach-fluttering second, Samantha thinks Kyra’s going to pin her, but she flops next to her instead and kicks her stilettos off. Samantha starts to do the same. “Oh no, girl. Did I say you could take your heels off?” Kyra demands.
Samantha freezes. Kyra laughs. “Oh, take them off if you want,” she says. “But this is going to be fun, isn’t it? Let me guess. You like girls in theory. You’ve made out with a few. You’ve even grabbed some tits. But you’ve never really done much with another girl, have you?”
“I t hink you owe me a shot,” Samantha says.
“I think, by the time this is over, you won’t give a fuck,” Kyra tells her. She rolls over and straddles Samantha. “Last chance to back out, baby.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, baby,” Samantha smirks.
“Honey, I know what I’m good at.” Kyra’s suddenly very, very close to Samantha, catlike, all sinuous grace, and whispers in her ear. “And I’m real good at pussy.” Her teeth rake against Samantha’s ear, just the barest bit.
Samantha starts to gasp, then stops herself. She won’t give the other girl the satisfaction, not yet.
Kyra laughs again. “Oh, you’re fun,” she says. She reaches down between them, pulls Samantha’s tight black dress higher on her thighs. “Better. I like it that way. You don’t even know how hot that is, do you? Did Lucas dress you?”
Samantha raises an eyebrow. “I can pick my own clothes. Did Simmons pick out yours?”
“No, honey, but I sure as fuck picked out his.” She leans down and nips at Samantha’s lower lip. “I told you downstairs; you have a pretty mouth.” Samantha’s lips part automatically and Kyra kisses her, softly at first, sucking and playing with her mouth, gentle and easy. Samantha starts to relax into it. She tangles her hands in Kyra’s long hair. It’s so hot, this thick, brown-red-honey mane done up in long curls. It trails along the insides of Samantha’s arms and almost, but not quite, tickles.
Something shifts. Kyra’s tongue licks at Samantha’s lower lip, then her upper. Samantha pushes her own to meet it, then twists against it, back into the older girl’s mouth. Kyra cuts it short and nips at her again. She can’t know how much Samantha loves this.
“Uh-uh, little brat,” Kyra tells her. She kisses down Samantha’s jawline and drops to her throat. “I’m going to mark you up. Do you like that?” She’s still on her knees, still holding herself away from Samantha. Sam pulls her hair, arches her head back.
“No,” she says. “I want you on me.”
“Do you?” Kyra asks. “Do you really?” One of her knees finds its way between Samantha’s thighs and nudges them apart. “Do you really want me on top of you? Say it.”
Samantha´s mouth twists. “I’m sorry. Did I stutter?”
Kyra smiles. “You’re going to pay for that.”
“Am I? How’s that?”
Kyra lies on top of her, holds herself up on her elbows. She feels soft and sweet; her breasts press against Samantha’s smaller ones. “First, I’m going to mark you up so everyone knows what you were doing up here.” Her lips drop to Samantha’s neck and suck at her pulse point.
Samantha turns her head to offer better access and curses inwardly, but it feels so fucking good. Kyra’s mouth moves down. “No bra, huh?” Kyra asks. “Your nipples are already hard.” She picks a spot on Samantha’s collarbone and sucks again, then makes a matching one on the other side. Next, she kisses down, down between her breasts. Samantha’s legs start to part involuntarily, and Kyra gives a throaty laugh. “You perfect little brat,” she says. And her eyes widen. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” she says, her voice shifting into a near-caress. “You liked being called names a lot.”
Samantha bites her lip. Kyra’s dressing is riding up, exposing a long length of tanned thigh.
Kyra shifts up and whispers in her ear. “I’m going to make you scream, you little slut,” she says. “You’ve been teasing me in that little black dress, and you’re going to pay for it. I bet you’re getting wet already.”
She’s right. Samantha prays she won’t look, won’t get the satisfaction.
And then Kyra’s kissing her again, hard. This time Samantha doesn’t fight her; she lets her take over, lets her nip and suck and twirl her tongue into Samantha’s mouth. “Such a pretty mouth,” Kyra purrs. “Oh, you have such pretty little lips. They’ll feel so good wrapped around my clit.”
Samantha’s stomach does that flip-flopping again.
“What’s the matter, you think we were just up here to grab some tits?” Kyra pulls Samantha on her side and catches one of her nipples with her thumb. She rubs gently, and the pull of the fabric over it is enough to make Samantha squirm a little. “You like that too, honey?” She lowers her mouth and sucks. Samantha gasps. Kyra’s free hand finds her other nipple and rolls it between her thumb and forefinger.
Samantha arches her back, presses against the older girl. A little bolder, she reaches over and begins stroking Kyra’s low neckline.
“Take it off,” she says.
“Hmm?” Kyra asks around Samantha’s nipple.
“I’m sorry, weren’t you listening? I said take your dress off.”
“I was a little busy,” Kyra confesses, “with your cute little nipples. I bet they get really hard, don’t they? Especially when someone plays with your pussy.”
Samantha colors a little. “Take your fucking dress off.”
“No, baby,” Kyra says. “I give the orders in my own fucking bed. So shut that pretty mouth of yours and take off your own.”
She backs off, and Samantha sits up.
“Turn around,” Kyra says. She unzips her. Samantha does the same for Kyra, and they both drop their dresses into a puddle on the hardwoods. Samantha’s naked from the waist up now. Kyra has on a white push-up bra and matching lace underwear.
“Lose your bra,” Samantha says.
“I told you, I give the orders in my own bed,” Kyra tells her.
Samantha reaches behind Kyra and undoes her bra with a snap. “Austin taught me that,” she says gleefully.
“You little brat,” Kyra says, half-delighted. She pushes Samantha back on the bed and lies next to her. Her breasts are high and round; the nipples drawn and puckered.
Samantha reaches out and cups one. “These are pretty.” Her fingers brush over Kyra’s nipple. “Do you like it like this?” she asks, flicking it gently with her thumb. “Or like this?” She pinches, hard. Kyra arches her back and hums in the back of her throat.
“There’s my answer,” Samantha says. Kyra’s breast resting in her palm, she pinches and rolls the nipple between her thumb and forefinger.
“But you like it like this, don’t you?” Kyra asks. She takes Samantha’s hard nipple between her fingers and pulls it gently. It begins to draw out a peak. She strokes it with her thumb. “Oh, you do.” She switches breasts, does the same to the other one. “I like the way your tits look like that.” Kyra’s breathing deep and even, as if she’s trying hard to control her reaction to Samantha’s pinching. Samantha wiggles closer to her. She can feel herself getting wetter.
“Is that what you want, honey?” Kyra asks. She presses her thigh between Samantha’s, high against her. It feels good, the long length of it, and Samantha wills herself not to grind on it. Kyra kisses her again. Her hand skims down Samantha’s side.
Samantha breaks off the kiss, lowers her head and puts her mouth to Kyra’s breast. She’s never done this before, but it feels natural to draw her nipple in and play her tongue along it, to flick it and suck. Kyra hums again and starts to play with her hair. “That’s it,” she encourages. “I like it when you suck hard and use your tongue. No, not like that. Like that.” She draws her thigh higher, presses it on Samantha. “Now suck on the other one.”
Obediently, Samantha switches to her other breast and pinches the wet nipple she left behind, rolls it hard between her fingers. Kyra draws her breath in. “That’s it, honey,” she says. One hand skims down and cups the smaller girl’s ass. “I like these,” she says. “Black lace looks good on you. Too bad you’re going to soak them.”
Samantha looks up at her, stops for a moment. “Is that a challenge?” she asks.
“No, it’s a certainty. You’re wet already. And I didn’t tell you that you could stop.”
Samantha can’t suppress a half-scared, half-delighted shiver, because she knows she’s wet. “Are you?” she asks.
“Am I what?”
“Are you wet?”
“You want to find out, don’t you?” Kyra tips Samantha’s face back up and kisses her hard. “You,” she says, “are such”—she kisses her again—“a fun little brat to play with.” Her hand moves down, down, down, to Samantha’s belly. She strokes her gently, and Samantha moves onto her back. Her hand skips lower, skims the edge of the black lace. “You like that, don’t you? Doesn’t that feel good?” The tips of her fingers dip under the lace. “Oh, no Brazilian for you.” She keeps stroking, keeps petting. Samantha can’t stop herself from moving her hips. It’s just a slight rocking, but of course, Kyra notices. She laughs.
“I’m sorry, do you want something?” she asks. Her hand plays through Samantha’s short curls. Samantha leans up on her elbows, captures one of Kyra’s tits in her mouth and sucks again.
“Mmmmm,” Kyra says. “You’re getting good at that. Tell me what you want.”
Samantha shifts to lean on one elbow, moves her other hand up to cup Kyra’s round breast. Her thumb pets at it as she nuzzles her face between Kyra’s tits.
“I said tell me what you want,” Kyra says.
Samantha pretends she doesn’t hear her.
Kyra whispers in her ear. “When I said you were going to soak that lace, I meant it.” She reaches down and touches Samantha delicately, with a single finger, slides it along the lace covering her pussy. Samantha actually moans. Kyra laughs again. “Oh, you’re wet,” she says. “Bet you didn’t think a girl could make you that wet, did you?”
She grabs Samantha’s wrists and pins them above her head with one hand. Samantha could probably get out of it if she really wanted to. She doesn’t want to. Not at all.
“You look pretty like that,” Kyra says. She lies down on top of Samantha, weight on her elbow and Samantha’s wrists. “Is this what you wanted?” She kisses Samantha, hard, and grinds against her. They’re pressed against each other, breasts touching, bellies soft against one another, Kyra’s legs spread while Samantha rubs against her. “You want me to touch you now?” Kyra asks her.
“Yes,” Samantha manages.
“Say it, or I’ll kick your cute little ass out right now,” Kyra whispers into the curve of her ear. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Please put your hand back where it was.”
Kyra laughs. “What, are you afraid to say the word pussy? You want me to touch your pussy, Samantha? You want me to feel how wet you are?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she says. “Please?”
“Because you asked so nicely,” Kyra says. She sits up and yanks Samantha’s panties down. Then, gently, she keeps stroking the soft curls between her legs and, achingly slowly, moves down, down, petting the insides of Samantha’s thighs. Samantha spreads her legs wider for her. “You are a little slut,” Kyra says. “You want it so bad. I like you shaved down here though. Nice compromise.” Her thumb brushes over Samantha’s hood, and she sucks in her breath. “Oh, you liked that.” Her thumb drags down, over Samantha’s clit, into her pussy. “You’re soaked,” Kyra says, and she sounds delighted. Her middle finger replaces her thumb and begins making lazy circles just inside Samantha, at her slick, sensitive entrance. “You’re tight too.”
Samantha can’t help it. She bucks her hips up on Kyra’s finger and makes a small sound in the back of her throat.
“Oh, are you begging?” Kyra asks.
“Please?” Samantha asks.
Kyra’s really laughing now. “You’re a hot mess,” she says. She moves her thumb up to Samantha’s clit and slides her finger farther inside her. It’s a difficult angle to work, but Kyra manages it. She rolls Samantha’s clit and moves a finger inside her. Samantha thrusts her hips up to her and arches her back. Kyra leans down. And, without breaking eye contact, her tongue meets Samantha’s hood, catches underneath it. She purses her lips and sucks. Samantha gasps. Her legs spread even wider; her fists move underneath her ass to raise it higher for Kyra. Kyra sucks gently at first, then harder; she begins licking with the flat of her tongue while her finger finds Samantha’s G-spot and pets it.
Suddenly, she stops.
“Oh no, now it’s your turn, brat,” Kyra says. She pulls her own white lace off. She has a Brazilian, and Samantha can see she’s flushed and swollen. “My pussy needs attention. You didn’t think this was the Samantha show, did you?”
Shyly, Samantha kisses her again. She mimics Kyra’s slow pace, the gentle petting down, down to her center. Kyra laughs at her. Samantha feels like she hasn’t stopped since they got into bed.
“I told you to play with my pussy,” Kyra says. “It’s not hard. You’ve got one. You know how it works.”
So Samantha takes a deep breath and slides her hand between Kyra’s legs. She latches her lips onto one of her nipples and sucks hard while her hand smooths over the older girl’s pussy, feeling her lips, her folds, dipping her fingers into her wet center. Kyra makes a humming noise when she does that and arches her back, so Samantha does it again, slides one finger, then another inside. Experimentally, she begins to slowly fuck them in and out of her. Kyra begins meeting her fingers with her own thrusting hips. Samantha sits up and watches her, fascinated.
“Suck on my clit,” Kyra says.
“What?” Samantha asks.
“Did I fucking stutter?” Kyra asks.
Samantha slows her fingers. “What if I say no?”
“I don’t know.” She thrusts her fingers back inside Kyra, harder this time. “Maybe I would.”
“Suck my clit, brat.”
“Mmmmm, I don’t know. I’ve never done it before.” Samantha stops thrusting altogether, crooks her fingers and strokes instead, searching for Kyra’s G-spot. “Maybe I wouldn’t be good at it.”
“Maybe you’re being a little brat.”
“Maybe I am.” She finds her G-spot and crooks her fingers against it. Kyra sucks her breath in. “Maybe you like it.”
“Maybe if you don’t, I won’t finish licking yours.”
“That’s fair,” Samantha says. She leans down and very tentatively licks at Kyra’s clit. Her eyes flick upwards.
“Don’t be a fucking tease,” Kyra warns her.
Experimentally, Samantha spreads her out a little bit. When she does, Kyra’s clit peeks out from under the hood. She lowers her head again, wraps her lips around it, and sucks hard.
“Oh, god, that’s it,” Kyra says. “That’s right. Use your tongue too. There. Like that.” Her hands grab at Samantha’s hair, pull it up and twist it out of the way. She makes contented, throaty sounds, lifts her hips off the bed. Samantha rubs her G-spot at the same time, finds a rhythm. Her tongue slips just under Kyra’s hood and finds some spot that must drive her crazy, because she arches her back and cries out, tenses. Samantha licks it harder.
“That’s right, baby. Right there; don’t you fucking stop,” Kyra says. “I’m going to come on your pretty little mouth. Don’t stop.” She gasps, twists. Her hips start to shake. Samantha presses hard on her G-spot, finds the spot under her hood, presses harder, and undulates her tongue against it. “Oh god, oh god—” Kyra manages, before Samantha feels her spasm hard around her fingers, once, twice, three times, each time starting from her entrance and pulling upward, then subsiding into softer flutters and finally shivers.
Samantha sits up and wipes her mouth.
“You did good, honey,” Kyra says. “Never have you ever, huh?”
“Never have I ever,” Samantha says.
“Lay the fuck down,” Kyra tells her.
She’s hardly on her back before Kyra’s on her, sucking her clit hard, working it with her tongue. A finger slides inside her. Kyra’s tongue flutters up and down, finding what makes Samantha gasp and tremble—when she sucks lightly on her hood and flicks her clit back and forth inside it. Samantha’s hips pitch and roll with Kyra’s mouth; she thrusts up at her, her fists pinned under her ass, moaning at the sensory overload.
“Come for me,” Kyra murmurs into her. “Come for me.”
Samantha begins to tense under her mouth. Kyra strokes harder on her G-spot, increases the pressure on her clit. Sam whimpers and bucks. Kyra slides one more finger inside her and begins fucking her with them, and it feels so good, so amazingly good, the tongue on her clit and the fingers fucking in and out of her, that she arches up to meet them, clenches her pussy hard, and finally comes, tightening on Kyra’s finger again and again until she’s finally limp on the bed. Kyra kisses her clit once, gently, then flops down beside her.
“Told you I’m real good at pussy.” She smirks.
“Well, at least we were quieter than Lucas and Simmons next door.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t hear yourself, honey? You about shouted the walls down.”
“The fuck would I lie to you about that?”
Samantha’s suddenly deeply, desperately shy. “That felt really good,” she says.
“Of course it did, honey. I licked your clit until you came. It’s supposed to. Now c’mere.” She pulls Samantha close to her, flicks her hair up and out of the way. “You can be the little spoon.”
“What if I want to be the big spoon?” Samantha asks.
“My bed, my rules, brat.”
Samantha laughs at her. Kyra kisses the back of her neck. “Oh, I almost forgot.”
“What?” Samantha asks.
“You owe me a fucking shot.”