Date: Thu, 28 Jun 2001 00:36:50 -0400 (EDT)
From: Jess Krop <jess_krop@yahoo.ca>
Subject: One Night Stand (FF)

                               One Night Stand

I don't know why I was there that night.  I mean, I don't even like
bars.  They're loud, they reek of cigarettes, and people go there to
grope and not hold meaningful conversations.  When they do talk, they
are invariably strident and inane, particularly after the inevitable
beers have had a chance to kick in.

But I went anyway that night, not really knowing why I was there.  And
as always, the music was too loud and the air was too stale.  The
music really does suck at this bar.  It's the only queer bar in town,
and that means that it has to play the music with as broad an appeal
as possible, and somehow cater to both the middle-aged gay men who sip
draft beer while making passes at each other, the middle-aged dykes
who shoot pool while making passes at each other, and the younger
crowd who cavort to dance music while making passes at each other.
The only mitigating factor in this was the theme nights they
constantly held, but even if it's the night for depressing Goth music
or the night for gaudy drag shows, it's still the only place in town
to go if you're a dyke.

So there I was at one in the morning, a little tired on my feet and
with a little ringing in my ears, still moving to the music I had been
thoroughly bored of an hour ago.  And then, Liz and I somehow caught
each other's eye.

I should explain about Liz.  She's... well, I'll start with her
appearance.  She's close to 6 feet tall, and is built like a brick
shithouse.  She's one of those people who you just know doesn't worry
about being caught in a dark alley.  She had recently taken to shaving
the sides of her head, leaving a wide strip along the top.  She wore
several large silver rings through various parts of her ears, a silver
barbell through her labret, and had a tattoo of a vine up her shoulder
blade and down her bicep.  She generally wore tank tops with jeans and
a belt with enough metal in it to replace any given major automobile
engine part.  On her feet, of course, were a huge pair of what a
British friend of mine calls "fuck-off boots".  If it weren't for the
breasts, which were large in proportion to the rest of her, you'd have
thought I was being stared down by a particularly mean looking NFL
linebacker.

Liz is a veritable force of nature and kinda legendary in the local
dyke scene.  Her "day" job is working as a bouncer at a big meat
market dance club downtown, and she teaches jujitsu on the side,
mostly for kicks.  She and I knew each other from around town, but
we'd never been that close.  I had seen her stalking her prey in this
bar many times, but has always dismissed it as another alcohol-fuelled
hormone binge on behalf of the more than willing participants.  But
then, she'd never turned that gaze on me.

When she did that night, I felt like I had been hypnotised.  Maybe the
general air of sexual tension in the bar that night had become too
much for me, or maybe she was exerting some kind of pheromone I was
powerless to resist.  I don't know.  I just know that after our eyes
met I was only thinking about her body.

God, she looked hot that night.  She was such a physical being,
especially now, covered with a sheen of sweat that coursed down the
channel between her breasts, and with an animal leer in her eye.  I'm
really not that kind of girl, but I seemed helpless to resist the
sheer lustful force of that gaze.  Like some sort of lesbian Rasputin,
she had cast a spell on me.

Without even noticing, I had drifted closer to her, like a fly
circling a candle.  My feet carried me towards her as though she were
reeling me in on a line.  Before I knew it, I was at her side, and
kissing her.

Her hands were on my shoulders, and then my breasts, as we stood
kissing beside a speaker.  Still moving a little to the music, I
opened my mouth and slipped my tongue in as far as I could, as I felt
hers attacking mine.  Her hands were roughly squeezing my breasts, and
then my ass.  She pulled me in further, and began to rub my crotch
against her thigh.

My head was thrown back to reach hers above me, and my hands clutched
at her breasts.  I was so carried away with what she was doing to me
that I hardly noticed as she undid my blouse on the dance floor,
leaving me exposed above the waist but for a silk bra.  Liz ran a
finger along my lips and then into my mouth, where I eagerly sucked
it, and then used it to circle my nipple, before pinching it and
pulling on my breast.  All the while, she was grinding my pussy into
her, until I was half straddling her mammoth thigh.

We fell into a rhythm with the continuous pulse of the dance music.
With every beat she would pull me up along her leg and then let me
fall down again, sliding down her on my cunt.  Each time she did, I
would grab at her tits, and soft moans would escape my throat.  The
affect she was having on me was very clear, and this in turn
encouraged her to grab at my ass and breasts even more, using them to
drag me up her leg again.  Through all of this, our mouths were locked
on each other, sucking and kissing for all we were worth.

If I was told before that night that I would orgasm in public
surrounded by people, I never would have believed it.  I would have
been mortified and embarrassed.  That night, though, I seemed
completely incapable of sober second thought.  My clit was being
stimulated and I was ready to burst.  Finally, I clenched my legs
around hers, and reached behind me to pull her leg up between mine.
Liz saw the change in me and jabbed her leg up harder than before, and
pinched my nipple viciously with one hand.  It was too much, and I
climaxed, digging my nails into her back.

Before I had really recovered, Liz took me by the hand and pulled me
towards the women's washroom.  It being a small bar, there were only
two stalls, and nobody was in them.  Some femme was checking her
lipstick in the mirror, but with a nod of her head Liz motioned her
out the door, and locked it behind her.  With that, she grabbed my
shoulders and pushed me against the wall, kissing me fiercely.  Her
hands were all over my body, grabbing and prodding, and it was all I
could do to hang on, still not recovered from my orgasm.  I felt a
touch on my inner thigh, then a grope which reached under my bra and
pushed it away, and then a hand holding my head against the wall so
she could kiss me.  A hand reached up under my short skirt to cup my
mound, and then without warning I felt my thin cotton underwear
suddenly pulled and ripped in two.  I saw a flash of a pocket knife in
one hand.  Liz had cut through from the waistband to one leg hole, and
she immediately did the other as well.  My panties fell to the floor,
a useless rag.

I was already wet again, and the method of my undressing only made
matters worse.  Liz reached up and inserted two fingers into me with
her left hand, rubbing my clit with the side of her thumb, while the
other fumbled at her belt.  She finally got it open, undid her fly,
and pulled down the waist of her boxers.  Looking down, I saw a huge
black strap-on dildo spring up from her waist.

I was desperate for more stimulation at this point, so I hurriedly
spread my legs wider apart and moved my hips towards her strap-on
cock.  Liz held me up against the wall, and I caught on to her phallus
and helped her guide it in me.  As soon as I got the tip in, she
slammed her body forward, driving it high up inside me.  She proceeded
to penetrate me as though she were a piston in a race car, fucking me
deep and hard.  The ribs along the sides of the dildo were driving me
crazy, and I couldn't take much more of this.  Once again, my
fingernails dug into her back as I cried out from her ministrations,
much more loudly this time.

The fucking seemed to both go on forever and be over in a heartbeat.
Gasping for air, grasping at Liz's back and arms as she pinned me
against the wall, I felt the most powerful orgasm of my life slowly
building to a fevered crescendo.  Liz was pumping as fast as she
possibly could by now, and was herself becoming carried away by the
effects of the other end of the dildo, buried deep within her and
rubbing her own clit with every thrust.  She would soon climax too.
Not soon enough though, because the dildo had already brought me to
the edge of orgasm.

My orgasm racked my whole body and tore out of my throat with a
primal, guttural scream.  My legs spasmed, unable to support me at
all, although I was going nowhere with Liz's arms holding me to the
bathroom wall.  I felt like every muscle in my body was clenching at
once as my back arched in ecstasy and exhilaration.

However, Liz wasn't done yet.  She hadn't reached her own climax, and
so she kept pumping as frantically as before, agonising my
hypersensitive clit, which was given no respite.  It seemed like I was
there for hours, stretched there out against the wall whimpering as
she continued to pound her phallus into me, as my body still somehow
was kept on the edge of my climax.  Just as I thought I would faint
from her efforts, Liz shuddered, and pushed into me as deeply as she
could one last time.

Still inside me, Liz gave me one last, deep kiss, and then released
me.  I almost fell to the floor, but caught myself in time and stood,
my heart still racing.  She buckled up her jeans, and I managed to do
up my blouse.  I can't believe I just did that, I thought, and
wandered over to the mirror to inspect the damage to my makeup.  Liz
turned to go, unlocked the door, and then paused at the door.  Looking
back, she smiled at me and said, "Thanks.  You were pretty good."

"You too," I replied.

"Later," Liz answered, and with that was gone.  Those few lines were
the extent of all that we had spoken to each other that night.  Which
just goes to show, that there's no point at all in going to a bar if
you're looking for conversation.