Glitter. Real Stories About Sexual Desire From Real Women by Mona Darling, Lauren Fleming, Lynn Lacroix, Tizz Wall, Penny Barber, Hopper James, Elis Bradshaw, Delilah Night, Kate Anon, Nina Potts Page B
Authors: Mona Darling, Lauren Fleming, Lynn Lacroix, Tizz Wall, Penny Barber, Hopper James, Elis Bradshaw, Delilah Night, Kate Anon, Nina Potts
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away from the backs of Audrey’s knees as she left.
“Good news from the office?” Ms. Falway chirped above me, and I stuffed the note down into my bag and grinned, trembling.
“Just…soccer practice got canceled.” A stupid lie, easily cross-checked, but who cared. Only Audrey, and she hadn’t stuck around to know the difference.
After school, I lingered at my locker, sliding the palms of my hands along the cool metal walls until the last of the chatter had faded from the halls. Audrey was perched on the hood of her car when I got there, her aviators on. She looked like the star of an ‘80s movie, all battered notebook and charm, and I told her so.
She laughed. “God, you’re cliché.”
I stopped, swallowed. “Sorry.”
“Oh, I’m just kidding,” she dismissed. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m skipping Student Council for this,” I said stupidly, and her eyes went dark and intent.
“Good,” she said. She slid off the hood and swung the driver’s-side door open, motioning for me to get in the passenger seat. She watched, waiting, as I struggled with the seatbelt. In the car, the silence was thick.
“So,” she said when I finally got myself situated. “Where do you want to go?”
“Oh, well, home,” I said. “Or…My mom’s not expecting me for an hour at least.”
“Yeah,” she said, pulling out of the parking lot and heading for nowhere in particular.
I loved when Audrey kissed me, her thin lips always sun-chapped and salty, and this time was no exception. She fisted my collar as soon as we parked, yanking me toward her and making me scrabble at the seatbelt, choking.
“Jesus, Audrey,” I said, and she bit my lip. I went quiet.
It was still so hot in Sacramento, and my shirt clung to my back as Audrey yanked it from the waistband of my skirt, sliding her hands up to palm at my bra with something like wonder.
“My boobs are small,” I said apologetically, and she shook her head. Moved by some daring, I cupped both of hers before ducking my head under the hem of her shirt to bite at one nipple. It tasted just like the rest of her – sweaty, sun-screened – but it made me breathless all the same. She gasped above me, and I grinned as she knotted her fingers in my hair.
“Should we…backseat?” I asked, peeking at her face, which was high-cheekboned and flushed. She nodded, then shook her head.
“No, let’s…can we…” She moved sideways to brace against the driver’s-side door, and I moved between her legs, kissing her bottom lip again before edging my hand under her skirt.
“Can I?” I said, and she nodded, looking away. I didn’t kiss her again, only watched her face as I slid my hand up her knee, farther, where her thighs got soft and where she was friendly and damp.
“Yes, please, Kate,” she said, urgent. I pressed my hand against the wetness in her underwear, the way I liked to do to myself in my bedroom, thinking of this, thinking of the way her breasts pressed against her shirt in geometry class, the way she’d trail one hand over my shoulder as she passed me on the way to lunch.
She used to leave me hickeys there along my collarbone for me to examine later, laying the pad of one finger over the purple spot for good luck, feeling it pulse as I crossed and uncrossed my legs in English class, aching.
That same intense pressure bloomed in my lower back as I touched Audrey, making me squirm even as she did the same.
She grabbed my wrist, digging her nails into the soft part of my forearm until I clumsily slipped my fingers underneath her cotton underwear, straight into the heat of her. I stopped for a minute, struck by the smell of her, copper and sour. It smelled like the way her mouth tasted when we kissed, all spit and teeth.
“What are you doing?” she gritted, and I crooked my two fingers, hesitant. It was so different to do this to someone else, to feel her clench and twitch around me, my thumb swiping against her clit as her thighs tightened
“Good news from the office?” Ms. Falway chirped above me, and I stuffed the note down into my bag and grinned, trembling.
“Just…soccer practice got canceled.” A stupid lie, easily cross-checked, but who cared. Only Audrey, and she hadn’t stuck around to know the difference.
After school, I lingered at my locker, sliding the palms of my hands along the cool metal walls until the last of the chatter had faded from the halls. Audrey was perched on the hood of her car when I got there, her aviators on. She looked like the star of an ‘80s movie, all battered notebook and charm, and I told her so.
She laughed. “God, you’re cliché.”
I stopped, swallowed. “Sorry.”
“Oh, I’m just kidding,” she dismissed. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m skipping Student Council for this,” I said stupidly, and her eyes went dark and intent.
“Good,” she said. She slid off the hood and swung the driver’s-side door open, motioning for me to get in the passenger seat. She watched, waiting, as I struggled with the seatbelt. In the car, the silence was thick.
“So,” she said when I finally got myself situated. “Where do you want to go?”
“Oh, well, home,” I said. “Or…My mom’s not expecting me for an hour at least.”
“Yeah,” she said, pulling out of the parking lot and heading for nowhere in particular.
I loved when Audrey kissed me, her thin lips always sun-chapped and salty, and this time was no exception. She fisted my collar as soon as we parked, yanking me toward her and making me scrabble at the seatbelt, choking.
“Jesus, Audrey,” I said, and she bit my lip. I went quiet.
It was still so hot in Sacramento, and my shirt clung to my back as Audrey yanked it from the waistband of my skirt, sliding her hands up to palm at my bra with something like wonder.
“My boobs are small,” I said apologetically, and she shook her head. Moved by some daring, I cupped both of hers before ducking my head under the hem of her shirt to bite at one nipple. It tasted just like the rest of her – sweaty, sun-screened – but it made me breathless all the same. She gasped above me, and I grinned as she knotted her fingers in my hair.
“Should we…backseat?” I asked, peeking at her face, which was high-cheekboned and flushed. She nodded, then shook her head.
“No, let’s…can we…” She moved sideways to brace against the driver’s-side door, and I moved between her legs, kissing her bottom lip again before edging my hand under her skirt.
“Can I?” I said, and she nodded, looking away. I didn’t kiss her again, only watched her face as I slid my hand up her knee, farther, where her thighs got soft and where she was friendly and damp.
“Yes, please, Kate,” she said, urgent. I pressed my hand against the wetness in her underwear, the way I liked to do to myself in my bedroom, thinking of this, thinking of the way her breasts pressed against her shirt in geometry class, the way she’d trail one hand over my shoulder as she passed me on the way to lunch.
She used to leave me hickeys there along my collarbone for me to examine later, laying the pad of one finger over the purple spot for good luck, feeling it pulse as I crossed and uncrossed my legs in English class, aching.
That same intense pressure bloomed in my lower back as I touched Audrey, making me squirm even as she did the same.
She grabbed my wrist, digging her nails into the soft part of my forearm until I clumsily slipped my fingers underneath her cotton underwear, straight into the heat of her. I stopped for a minute, struck by the smell of her, copper and sour. It smelled like the way her mouth tasted when we kissed, all spit and teeth.
“What are you doing?” she gritted, and I crooked my two fingers, hesitant. It was so different to do this to someone else, to feel her clench and twitch around me, my thumb swiping against her clit as her thighs tightened
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