Posted: October 2004
Title: September Story
Author: Helena Snow-Renn
Type: RPS (femslash)
Characters: Miranda Otto/Cate Blanchett
Rating: NC-17
WARNING: Hermaphro-action, and I mean chicks with dicks. If this is not your cup o' tea, do not read!!!
Disclaimer: As always, this is fiction. It's all lies. Cate does not come with a penis (to my knowledge).
Notes: I got time for this when I had no computer. It's short, and I would have liked to post it without warnings and make it a surprise, but did not want to piss anyone off... anyway, genderbending totally turns me on... time to write one. Since I lost the 'big' story in the crash, here's a little one, savvy?
Summary: See warning. Just a little slice of two women's (sex) lives.

*****

They've been at it for hours. The whole room smells of patchouli and pussy and various other pheromones. Sticky with sweat, candle wax, and come, Miranda's new red satin sheets lay rumpled beneath her wrung-out body. She herself has not come, not yet, nor will she till her lover allows her to. But she has hope. They've been drawing out their pleasure into a thin skating pond of craving; it needs to shatter.

Miranda lies on her back, her legs spread and held shamelessly aloft in a widely obtuse angle by a pair of slender but strong hands. "Please fuck me," the blond Aussie begs in a voice pitched just this side of whining. Her tight cunt is pulsating, her lower abdomen, hard from the cramping caused by such unassuaged hunger.

"Please…" She repeats fretfully, as feather-light touches brush up and down her trembling thighs. Tied to the bedposts, she personifies abject lust in a woman. Every writhe and undulation beseeches for raw, unrefined sex.

All this time, her patient partner has held her to the edge of her peak. The other blond had other ideas. All in good time, with a fair amount of restraint, and Miranda would come undone under any small measure dished out. Give her a little, and then pour it on thick, and it would blow her mind.

Miranda, twisting about for more skin contact, is wild-eyed to have the void filled. If that's all it is, then so be it. She cannot remain sane much longer without release upon a well-filled prick, gratifyingly rigid, stretching her, sliding in her viscous juices, into and out of, hard, oh so hard, so hard for her, till she comes down all over that wonderful, all-supreme piece of flesh. She craves the gush of answering seed up into her, a warmth in her already overheated insides. She knows this from past experience, how it makes her womb a liquid Dutch oven as it pours out into her, till she responds to the offering with another mind-wrenching orgasm. Oh, she wants, needs, already knows by the sight, scent and feel of memory that she craves it over and over again, day after day, time after time.

Miranda's fair-haired lover unhurriedly covers her flushed body with kisses and little breath-held licks. Watching everything, Miranda sees her raspberry nipples suckled to impressive peaks by the hard-pulling wide mouth. A fiery trail is laid down in random patterns across her small breasts. They sting and ache but her pussy is what hurts the worse. It clamps down hard on nothing, and Miranda moans, loudly.

"Oh, god, Please! I want it so bad! Give me your cock!" Miranda's tied wrists and stretched arms pull futilely while her legs are pressed even more outward.

"Ssh, okay baby."

A blond head with swaying long hair, a narrow back, tiny waist, and brilliantly curved ass rise in one all-golden model of striking features and soft connecting tissue. The squirming woman bound on her back strains upwards. Slowly, amid more kisses and tiny caresses, belly lowers to belly, breast to breast, hips to hips. Miranda wraps her legs around then holds herself still, awaiting that luminous, flawless breach. Head of hardness slips slightly into wellspring, testing, and then is suddenly there, in, tightly fitting, stretching, pumping silky-sinuous. Mouth open in multiple gasps, Miranda raises her head for her lover's kiss. It's like sweet evening rain in September, lissome and gentle, a pliant tongue and attentively moving lips.

All the while, in perfect compliment, the grinding, shifting hips push that which will undo Miranda an inch at a time. A stiff, large-enough-but-not-too-large phallus moves deep within. Its pressure both creates and begins to relieve a tickle; an itch; something held back, like an urgent piss; and something strived for, like a faster race time, all of that and more. The woman's internal secret sweet spot up inside throsb to its strokes so blissfully, again and again, till Miranda yowls in completion. Her cunt oozes fluid and spasms all ‘round the tunneling organ.

For the other partaker, long body stretched over the splayed blond, the twitching and thumping begins in her groin, like a man. It travels upward to her belly, as a woman, and then everything clenches down hard and contracts. It almost scares her, letting it go like this, but she so loves the feel of spurting jets of come flying from the tip of her thoroughly fucked cock. How divine to share it with another, one who wants it bad enough to beg her for a woman's version of how-to-fuck.

Heated liquid surges into Miranda's core and causes her that second full-blown release. Her tactile-craving body bucks up to rub against the velvet-skinned sylph on top of her. Soon they are both limp and exhausted, spent, a tangle of smooth, pale limbs.

"Oh, god, Cate," Miranda pants when she's able. "I so love your cock."

Cate grinds her softening organ twice more, but does not withdraw. "I know, baby, I know. And I love giving it to you."

*****

THE END

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