Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It`s a story of lesbian sex, so if that offends you, or is illegal where you live, or if you're underage where you live, then you must not read it. It is a work of FICTION.
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enjoy, Suzy
*****
Chapter 1
I didn’t start my day intending to find a new femme. For the past four months, my girlfriend, Sasha, kept my pussy happy and wet. So, like I said, I didn’t intend to go out looking. That is...
My friend Janet and I spent the day at a pride event. We shouted and yelled and screamed for our rights. Janet was much more into the whole political thing, but I always liked hanging out at pride days for the available pussy. This day however, the cute femmes were all clustered into their tight little high school-like cliques, which pissed me off to no end.
“Are you going out tonight?” I enquired of my stout, fuzzy-faced friend as she dropped me at my apartment.
“No, I think Lisa and I need to discuss what was said today at the rally.”
“You fucking pussy.”
Janet just shook her head at me as I trotted up the stairs to my apartment.
Ok. Yeah. I’m a dyke. I’m not just a regular, run-of-the-mill dyke, but what some would call a leather dyke. Actually, I’m more of a blue jean dyke, but I do still get off on fucking femmes...the more girly-girl, the better. I like to hear them whine and cry. I like it when they beg for me to fuck them harder with my strap-on or my fist.
So anyway, I go into my apartment and there is a phone message from Sasha explaining that she was called to work and had to travel to Reno that evening.
‘Fuck!’ I was even angrier now, ‘first those stupid femme cunts today and now Sasha is gone.’
I was pissed that I couldn’t work out my anger on my femme girlfriend’s cunt.
‘What to do? Who to do?’ I pondered for a moment, ‘Yeah, that’s the ticket.’
I decided to go pickup a straight femme girl and give her what for. Like many of my friends, I just love to turn-out straight girls and teach them what fucking is really all about. And I knew just the bar.
Chapter 2
Saturday night 10:30 PM. This time of night I usually had my girlfriend bent over the arm of the sofa, fucking her wildly. So, since I wasn’t doing that my mood now wasn’t any better, if anything, it was worse than earlier in the day. I was entering the bar at the local Bennigan’s.
The first time Sasha and I ate at this joint, I couldn’t believe all the prime pussy running around. From the cute high school and college girls waiting tables, to the desperate young worker bees out looking for “love” from some guy, the place was chock-full-o’-cunt.
So here I am, a butch forty-six year-old dyke entering the great bastion of mallscape singles bars. The bar was creepy as hell: bad pick-up lines blended with cheap perfume and cheaper, fruity cologne to create an atmosphere of suburban desperation and broken, white-picket-fence dreams.
‘Why the fuck am I here?’ I thought as I drew my sights on the pussy sitting at the bar; all lined-up like ducks at a shooting gallery, ‘That’s why!’
And THAT was a little cutie sitting about mid way down the bar. She looked half drunk, and was a serious girly-girl. The cunt wore a pink angora sweater for Christ’s sake. Oh man, pink angora, “mmmmm”.
“Move, I’m sitting here,” I growled at the little boy in his sweater-vest who sat next to my fuck-o-the-night.
He started to say something, but when you’re a wimpy-assed white boy (C’mon, give me a break...a fucking sweater vest?) and you’re suddenly confronted with a six foot tall, crew-cutted, stanky, blue jean-wearing dyke with an attitude problem...
“Sure,” he sulked away with his Bud Light.
“Makers Mark with a Fat Tire back,” I told the bartender, who was laughing at sweater-vest boy running towards the other end of the bar with his tail between his legs.
“You got it Denise,” the bitch behind the bar shocked me when she said my name, at least until I recognized her eyes.
I couldn’t remember her name for the life of me, but I do remember those eyes looking up at me from between my legs. Maybe a year or so ago, my girlfriend and I picked her up at the Butterfly, a soft lezzy bar.
“Oh yeah, hi...um.”
“Zoe.”
“Zoe, yeah, nice to see you again,” I was polite, but my interests clearly lay in little miss pink angora, and thankfully Zoe caught-on quickly.
“On me.”
“Fuck...thanks,” I said, a bit stunned at her offering of free booze.
‘That bitch must need some,’ I thought; remembering that she sucked cunt ok, but nothing too remarkable. I watched her ass jiggle away as I recalled that she was real vanilla. She wouldn’t do any of the kink that I like, ‘well...if little pinky doesn’t work out...’
It took me all of ten minutes to get miss pinky’s attention away from the preppy dicks who circled her like a pack of confused fags. “Can I buy you a drink baby?” “Want to ride in my Lexus baby?” “Can I give you a beach house baby?” they sang in their sensitive-boy voices.
What a bunch of pathetic, fucking losers. Get to the point fellas.
“Hey Pinky,” she turned towards me.
‘Shit, she’s cute.’
“My name’s Patti, Patti Precious,” she was bombed out of her gourd as she tried to act indignant at my calling her “pinky”.
“No...fucking...way,” I guffawed at the little blonde slut.
“Mmm, you smell good. What is that?” she asked in a glazed, drunken slur.
“Old Spice,” I snarled at her.
Oh man-o-man, I was going to fuck this one silly. Pinky, Patti...Patti Precious was going to know my dick and my cunt very soon.
“Look, I don’t have time for all the bullshit,” I began as I grabbed Pinky’s hand and led it towards my package, “My dick is bigger, harder and better than theirs, and I want to take you home and fuck you.”
Her eyes shot open in amazement when her hand grasped the long, thick plastic dick inside my jeans.
“Oh wow.”
“Yeah...wow, now let’s go,” I commanded the drunken straight girl.
Hey, it’s not the first time I took advantage of a woman’s sobriety, or lack thereof.
“Bye Denise,” Zoe, the bartender shouted from a distance.
“Oh, your name is Denis?”
Shit, Pinky was fucked-up, but what the hell. If she thought I was a guy, then let her keep thinking it...she would learn to suck my cunt soon enough.