Best of the Best Lesbian Erotica Read Online Free Page A

told. I was feeling very lazy, floating away out in the middle of a drowsy, sleepy sea.
    â€œThen show me too,” I actually said. I pictured me and Cleo, floating arm in arm up to the sky on a natural high.
    â€œYeah...” Cleo’s voice had deepened. “Yeah—I like to ease on back and watch whiles I be poppin’ ’um, watch ’em knot their brows like they in pain, then smile as though they ain’t, and I like to hear ’em grunt and cry and moan an’ squeak and beg like how the ladies do once you got them goin’ good, got ’em good and sweet and greezed.”
    Ooh my goodness, that was nasty, nastier than I’d ever heard her be. What would Marla say and do? I couldn’t exactly see Cleo lying slapped-down on her back, but I couldn’t see Marla doing anything less.
    â€œKnow how I picked that fist girl I ever really wanted?” Cleo asked.
    â€œWho was that, Cleo?” I noticed I had caught my breath, the way I do whenever I feel jealous. Me, having to be jealous of a simple-face like Cynamon.
    â€œWhat I mean, li’l sis, is that usually they’s the ones be wantin’ me, and I just goes along just for the ride, so’s to speak.”
    â€œJust for the ride?” Was it the weed, or was it something else that was making my arms and legs feel so limp and weak and warm? And making me sound so very young and stupid?
    â€œMm—mmm tha’s right. Mmm…hmm. But you want to know how I picked that first girl I ever really wanted?”
    â€œHow?” I obliged by asking. How could a person tell, ever, what it was they really wanted?
    â€œYou mean, how’d I find that girl I wanted? That’s the question that I’m tryin’ to answer you with, now. If I went ahead and answered it, I might be tellin’ you about this party I had went to, deep down in the East Bee-mo’ jungle, way way late at night, so late it was getting on toward early. That blue
lightbulb had been burning for a good long while by the time Cool Cleo finally got there.
    â€œSo then I walks right in, real sharp, wid my cap politely in my hands ’cause I know it’s go’ be ladies there—I walks on in, and ooh wee, what right off do I see?”
    I opened my eyes, and I leaned so far forward, I almost fell. I propped myself on both my hands. “What did you see, Cleo?”
    â€œI saw one whole line of ladies, baby sister, all preening and a-strolling that old hip-grind booty-shake they be using on the street, and all of it is just for me, Cool Cleo.
    â€œThen up to me, comes a lay-dee,” Cleo sang it. “This long-haired light-skin lady in a evening gown with some silvery tinselish fringe along its front come strolling up to me, hip-grinding booty-shaking right up to me, and ask me would I like a glass of wine. Which you already know, Cleo isn’t go’ refuse.
    â€œSo I sits there sipping—the lady done provided me a seat—and lookin’ all these ladies over, all of which is wanting me, waiting just to do whatever I be wanting them to do for me, when I sees this one in back?”
    â€œUh huh?” I nodded with my eyes closed, thinking all of this was sounding too wild even for a life like Cleo’s.
    â€œThis one look quiet, like she’s hiding an’ surprised to find herself in this late-night doing, and she’s wondering why has she been invited? I mean, this one definitely ain’t no party lady, so why she been invited here? Look to me as though she’s thinking that, hanging back there in the corner lookin’ all so quiet and so sweet.
    â€œThen up to me, comes the lady,” Cleo sang again. “The lady in the evening gown? She seen my glass is drunk down to its dregs. So then she start to po’ some mo’ of that plum wine, and then she lean down toward my ear, and then she sing to me:
    â€œ ‘Spill that wine, take that girl—’