Purple Panties Read online

  I definitely think this will be a pleasant vacation.

  This is the second anthology that Yuri has been blessed to join. She bides her time cubicle daydreaming and writing what she finds.

  Hard to Get

  Rachel Kramer Bussel

  W ith some girls, you know the minute you meet them you’re going to wind up between their thighs, your tongue coasting along their lower lips, diving deep inside, lapping up their sweet sex juices until they’re almost gone, then making more. You can tell from the way they say your name, a certain lilt that makes you picture them calling it out, hoarse and breathless, during sex. You know from the sparkle that bursts from their eyes, from the shiver you get as their fingers oh-so-gently stroke your arm. Gay, straight, bi—it doesn’t really matter what these girls call themselves; they give away their fuckability instantly. Once you feel that spark, that surge of heat that plummets deep inside, dropping from the catch in your throat to the pounding of your heart to the somersaults in your stomach before giving way to the heat blasting through your pussy, they’re all yours and vice versa. Any obstacles in your way, be they a boyfriend or the fact that you’ve never even met, are nothing compared to the insistent, urgent way your whole body tingles, propelling you forward, knowing that the minute you make contact, she’ll feel that magic dance like you’re two magnets drawn together as naturally as the sun shines every day. Getting those girls to succumb to your charms is fun, hot even, but it’s hardly a challenge.

  With other girls, though, it takes longer for the magic message to work its way between you. It’s like you can see it, hear it, taste it, and touch it, but for them, they’re tuned to a different frequency, and your task is to make sure they hear yours so loudly it fills their head with nothing else. For me, Nikki was the second type of girl. I think I made my way through all her friends before she so much as deigned to call me by name. It was never “Angie” or even “Angela” or “A,” as some of the girls called me. It was just “Hi” or “Hey” or even a nod, her eyes glassy, seeming to look anywhere but at me. She was never rude, but I got the sense that Nikki wanted to get away from me, was just waiting for me to leave so she could cut loose. I hadn’t done anything to offend her, except date her friends, and run my eyes up and down her luscious curves. But beneath her hostility I knew there was a heat I had to touch, to conquer, to stroke until she exploded against my touch, melting in my arms. More than once, I called out her name as I touched myself, wishing her fingers were inside me, mine inside her, both of us wet, wailing, willing. But Nikki’s the kind of girl who’s worth waiting for.

  One night I sat on a chair at the bar, with Tracy on my lap, her petite body fitting easily against my sturdier one, making me feel powerful beneath my men’s button-down shirt and brand-new jeans, my hair shorn so only the lightest layer graced my head. I was every inch the powerful butch to her femme, one of the few black couples at the club who clung so tightly to roles many thought were over and done with. When her ass pressed backward against my crotch, I almost felt like I had a real cock between my legs, not just the one I’d put on for the night. But even as intoxicating as Tracy was, and Cara, Janet, and Nina before her, something about Nikki made her stay on my mind. Later that night, when Tracy got on her knees before me, wearing only a hot pink push-up bra and tiny day-glo pink thong panties that seemed to light up against her deep brown skin while she smoothly took the silver silicone dick between her lips, I almost called out the familiar word “Nikki,” catching myself just in time. “Nice, that’s nice, baby,” I said.

  When Tracy crawled on top of me and sank her sweet body down along the toy, pressing her curves firmly against me and giving me access to those big hard nipples right in front of my face, I gorged on them, stuffing them both into my mouth, flicking my tongue as she moaned loudly, but still wishing it were Nikki in bed with me. I wound up breaking it off with Tracy and moping around at the various gay bars, familiar haunts and newer ones on the edges of town where I could drown my sorrow in whatever the bartenders wanted to throw my way. I felt off my game, my crisp shirts losing some of their sparkle; my sharp haircut morphing into scattered, haphazard fuzz; my neat, shiny black shoes becoming scuffed. When I got home one night, I looked in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, and a little sad, my clothes ragged. I was no longer the butch stud I aspired to be. “Forget about her,” I told myself, but I couldn’t. Nikki haunted my dreams, all the more alluring for her elusiveness, for the fact that I knew almost nothing about her save that she worked for a local fashion designer, liked to dance her ass off…and wouldn’t give me the time of day.

  But one morning, after waking up with my pussy throbbing so badly I needed a solid thirty minutes of my most powerful vibrator pressed flush against my clit while I fucked myself with my favorite dildo, until my body shattered and shuddered and surrendered to the vibrations, I knew I had to do something. Over the past few weeks, I’d wound up confessing to the other girls what was wrong, how much I just wanted to talk to her. Okay, I wanted to do more than talk, but it was a start. They weren’t any wiser than I as to what her problem was, but insisted that I just try one more time to make conversation.

  With their encouragement, I felt a renewed sense of energy. I didn’t merely want to get Nikki into my bed, a one-shot deal that would make things more painful if we hit it off between the sheets, never to see each other again. I was in this for the long haul, I realized, as I perked myself up, determined to show her how suave and sexy I could be. My friends told me to head over to Glitter, the hot new dyke dance night—and to dress the part. I went all out, buying a whole new wardrobe, including a black hat that I tipped across my head, my shoes shined, tight black jeans that accentuated my curvy ass and pressed against my sex just so, turning me on with every step. For contrast, I slashed some bright red lipstick across my lips, the only sign of femininity save for my breasts, and even those were more solid than curve. I like my size, the way I can stomp around with the guys, the not having to worry when I gain an ounce, the way being a butch allows me to appreciate the femmes I see around me. I can be like a guy, but not one, part boy, part girl, all me. But sometimes I like to mess with the all-macho look, to toss in something unexpected, a diamond earring or a splash of pink or a slash of lipstick, to make sure that those who pass me on the street or check me out at a bar can’t be sure what to make of me. I like to keep them guessing and was hoping maybe Nikki did, too.

  I didn’t see Nikki there when I arrived, but I acted like I didn’t mind, and soon, I didn’t. You’d be amazed at what a little lipstick on a butch can do for her sex appeal. I sat at the bar and ordered a Bud, and no sooner had I laid down the bills than some sweet young thing (and I do mean young—she had to just be pushing twenty-one) sidled up to me. “Haven’t seen you around here before,” she observed, puckering her lips and giving me the once-over.

  “Maybe you haven’t been looking hard enough, sweetheart,” I said, laughing the first genuine laugh I’d let myself experience in months.

  I was letting myself take in the way her caramel-colored breasts pressed together temptingly, her black lace bra resting against her nipples, giving the illusion that they might pop forth at any moment, when I saw Nikki across the room. She’d gone all out, too, wearing a bright red sparkly top that ran from her left shoulder in a diagonal across her breasts, and a black latex mini-skirt that gleamed from across the room. My first thought after licking my lips, longing for a taste of those tits, was to wonder whether Nikki was wearing panties or not. I had to find out.

  “Excuse me,” I said before I became a cradle robber, and left the girl checking out my ass. It was time to get what I’d come for.

  The more I’d lusted after Nikki, the more I’d realized that if I was going to get her, I had to take her. Well, not truly take her; if she didn’t want me, I would make my peace with that. But as I went over every cold aside, every time she’d checked me out, then skittered away, and her dangerous combination of a genuine smile mixed with
a “stay away” vibe, I knew what I had to do.

  I marched over to her, getting right up in her business. She’d been grinding against another, equally hot, equally scantily clad girl in tall platforms and a skirt so mini I could almost see her panties.

  “Nikki, I think you’ve had enough dancing for the night,” I said, putting my hand on her sleek, latex-covered hip. She tried to push me away but I wouldn’t let her, instead staring at the gold name-plate resting against her sweaty neck.

  “And who are you to tell me what I’ve had enough of?” she snarled back, trying to push me away. I moved my hand lower, so it rested on her bare thigh, threatening to creep upward.

  “Nobody. Except the woman who’s gonna give you the fuck of a lifetime. Several lifetimes, actually,” I said nonchalantly, as if my heart weren’t pounding defiantly in my chest, roaring in my ears and trying to warn me away. “You’re going to get off this dance floor and get in my car and come home with me, or else I’m going to lift you up, carry you over to that corner over there, lift that little skirt of yours and spank your ass nice and hard until it stings so good you see stars.”

  That got her attention. She stopped struggling and looked up at me, her glossy lips parted, as if trying to figure out what to say. Her eyes darted to the corner I’d referenced, and I tried to keep the smile off my face as I realized Nikki was pondering which would be more pleasurable, getting fucked hard in my apartment, or spanked hard in public. I had no intention of getting us kicked out of the club for some kinky PDA, but she didn’t need to know that. I stepped closer, closing the gap between us, then reached my hand around to cup one ass cheek in my palm.

  She shuddered, and this time didn’t try to get away. I squeezed her flesh, watching this ultra-tough chick melt before me. Her surrender bolstered my confidence. I played with the edge of her panties, my fingers darting underneath, teasing the elastic as the rest of the dance floor ceased to exist. Then just when she thought I was going to plunge inside, I pulled my hand out, resting my warm fingers on her arm. “Ready?”

  “Damn you,” she uttered under her breath, unable to keep the hint of a smile from edging her lips upward. “I’ve been trying to stay away from you, Angie. I don’t want to be just another girl in your stable, someone you hook up with, then discard and move on to the next pretty chick to cross your path. You’re too good for all that but you don’t even see it, like you need to be some big bad black butch stud to prove yourself.” She spit the words out defiantly, her wrist shaking and moving my arm with it, but she wasn’t really trying to get away. Her face lit up as she talked, and I wondered again about her panties.

  “Nikki, Nikki, Nikki…what is wrong with you, girl? I’ve been dreaming about you since day one.”

  “No you haven’t,” she said, her words bratty and sharp, her face pausing to consider whether I might, just might, be right. I didn’t want to argue with her, especially since all this time, it seemed our differences had been imaginary ones.

  I leaned close to her. “Okay, have it your way. But I’m ready to make up for lost time, even though I still insist you were the one playing hard to get.”

  She moved closer still, so her breasts were pressed right up against mine, her chest pounding as she looked directly into my face before snaking her hand down between our bodies to fondle my cock. “We’ll see about hard,” she said, her voice lilting, a foreign but welcome sound.

  She toyed with the dildo until I couldn’t stand it anymore, and grabbed both her wrists, grateful for the daily workouts I’d logged in the last year. She whimpered as soon as my fingers closed around her skin, trapping her.

  “Turn around, Nikki, and show me that cute little bottom of yours, the one I’m going to take across my lap and spank very soon.”

  Her shudder was visible, her body undulating like a belly dancer for just a moment before she started marching. The stiff, shiny latex sheathed her ass, hinting at what lay beneath, but still leaving a little to my imagination. I followed, my mouth going dry as I realized I was finally going to have the object of my affection in my bed.

  In the back of my mind, as confident as I’d tried to be, part of me had thought Nikki was a lost cause, that whatever I’d done, real or imagined, I couldn’t undo. So to have her slip so easily into place before me was surreal, yet so right. She stopped outside the club’s door, unsure where to turn, and I tucked my hand under the waistband of her skirt, my knuckles pressing against the small of her back.

  “I’ll guide you,” I said, and felt her melt against me.

  That moment, when a woman lets her body sink just so into my arms, lets me lead her, lets me control the dance we’re about to do, is the one I live for. It puffs me up more than any cock or shirt or “sir” will ever do. It lets me know she trusts me enough to take care of her, to turn her pleasure into our pleasure.

  I steered Nikki toward my car, but as I fumbled for the key, I realized I couldn’t wait. Not now, not after so long. I reached around her, unlocked the passenger door, then did the same for the backseat.

  “Get in,” I said, pushing her in that direction. “You’ll be fine,” I told her, reading the question in her eyes.

  I wasn’t about to let anyone catch us. I got in behind her and shut the door, knowing we were far enough away not to draw the bouncer’s attention, and if any clubgoers should see us, well, we’d probably make their night.

  I settled into the middle of the seat, then spread my precious prize across my lap. Nikki wiggled against me, pressing against the dick and making my nipples hard. “Lift up your skirt for me, Nikki, and ask me to spank you,” I told her, trying to keep the trembling out of my voice.

  It must have worked, because she reached behind her and pulled up her skirt, the act infinitely more erotic than if I’d done so myself. I needed to see and feel Nikki give herself to me, to freely offer her body, giving it as smoothly as she’d withheld it.

  “Please, Angie, I want you to spank me. I need you to spank my ass for being such a brat all this time.”

  I wasn’t expecting that last bit, and when Nikki buried her face in my knee, smearing her lipstick against the denim, breathing hot and hard through the fabric, I let loose. My hand crashed down upon the perfect apple curve of her bare brown cheek. Oh, yes, I’d been right—the girl had gone out without any panties to protect her pussy, or her ass. Now, both were exposed to me and I savored the view, raining blow after blow against her sweet curves.

  “You like that, don’t you, Nikki?” I asked, bringing my voice deep and low for the ending as I punctuated my words with solid smacks as her breath hissed, then stuttered, then seemed to stop altogether as I slammed my palm against her hot skin. I gave her a pinch, already feeling the urgent throbbing of her sex. “You’re not going to answer me, Nikki?”

  “Yes, yes, I like it,” she said, then shuddered as my fingers dove into her sex without preamble. I plunged in as deep as I could, feeling a corresponding spasm from her cunt. “Oh yeah,” she mumbled softly as I teased her tender wetness, feeling her walls give against my touch.

  My own private parts were starting to ache, and I eased myself off of her to kneel between her legs. I was pretending we weren’t in a car in a fairly crowded parking lot; that’s how bad I had it for her, I literally couldn’t wait. “I’m going to fuck you now, Nikki, so hard you’ll forget about every other girl who’s come before me. I’m gonna fuck you until you forget everything except my name.” The words just flowed from my mouth, with none of the practiced toughness I’d sometimes had to muster with other girls. No, she brought out that side of me that’s pure animal, raw and needy and hoarse with want. The part where words don’t matter; just actions.

  I ripped open the buttons of my jeans and out came my secret weapon, the extra-large dick that I only pack when I plan to fuck a girl until the earth really does move, until I feel like all of me is inside her, until I feel like she is inside me too, our bodies merging so well we trade souls; even if just for a moment. I rubbed t
he head of the cock against her sex, lubing it with her juices, and she bucked against me.

  “Wait for me,” I admonished softly as I pushed my way in, and then we didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Nikki and I had said all we’d need to say, and now were in some other world, where it was just my cock, her pussy, our hot breath steaming the windows.

  I pushed deep into her, resting my weight on her body, my hands slipping beneath her to pinch her hard nipples. I kissed her back, nudging the shirt up with my nose to rest against her bare, sweaty skin, as the toy plunged in and out, seeking out her secrets, offering some of its own. My cock told her how to reach me, how to find that spot where I surrender as well, where it hits my clit and the thrill boomerangs back into me. We seesawed like that, shifting the pleasure, the ache, the bolts of desire as she arched her ass upward, giving and taking equally.

  “Oh Angie,” she cried out when I twisted her sweet pebbles fiercely, tuning her nipples to my favorite frequency, harder and harder as I slammed in and out, my motions so fast I barely knew where she ended and I began. Hearing her say my name catapulted me out of the car, doing a freefall as I came, bucking in and out of her all the while. I bit her back gently, needing to hold onto her in every way I could, as Nikki too succumbed to her climax, blubbering gibberish as she shook.

  We couldn’t get up for a while, and when we finally did, it felt surreal to pull my clothes back on, to see the dazed look on her face, like we’d both just awoken from a dream.

  “Did that really happen?” she asked, her fingertips tracing my swollen lips, then my cheek.

  “I think so. But let’s go back to my place and try it again just to be sure.”

  Rachel Kramer Bussel (www.rachelkramerbussel.com) has edited over twenty erotic anthologies, including Glamour Girls: Femme/Femme Erotica, First-Timers: True Stories of Lesbian Awakening, Up All Night: Adventures in Lesbian Sex, Yes, Sir, Yes, Ma’am, He’s on Top, She’s on Top, Caught Looking, Hide and Seek, Crossdressing, Sex and Candy, Rubber Sex, Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica, Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z 1 and 2, and the non-fiction Best Sex Writing 2008. Her work has been published in over 100 anthologies, including Best American Erotica 2004 and 2006, Chocolate Flava 2, Everything You Know About Sex Is Wrong, Single State of the Union and Desire: Women Write About Wanting. She hosts “In The Flesh Erotic Reading Series,” is Senior Editor at Penthouse Variations, wrote the popular “Lusty Lady” column for The Village Voice, and has contributed to AVN, Bust, Diva, Fresh Yarn, Gothamist, Huffington Post, Mediabistro, Newsday, New York Post, San Francisco Chronicle, Time Out New York, and Zink. In her spare time, she blogs about cupcakes at cupcakestakthecake.blogspot.com.