Lesbian OneShots

Connections

"I think you have so much sex because you want a connection," my current sexual partner inquired cheerfully. I spun around my eyes narrowed in annoyance. I eye her up and down. She was a fiery red head with the attitude to match her hair. She was slim with porcelain pale skin. She wore black and red lingerie that simply made my mouth water with lust. She held her hands up in playful surrender, "Not that I am complaining, I love sex with you, it's fucking amazing. It's just as a psychologist I am worried about your mental state."

"My mental state..." I ponder as my eyebrows lift at her. "I'm much more worried about my physical state than anything else," I say as I crawl over her pressing the lower half of my body to hers as my lips claim hers. I cup one of her breasts in my palm, my long delicate fingers maneuvering around the fabric to squeeze and lightly pull at her nipples.

She swats at my wandering hands playfully, pulling away from me hesitantly as she squeals, "Oh, stop it, you. I'm being serious." She pushes my hands away and looks me in the eyes. "I don't think you're happy with the life style you follow. I think you're looking for a connection but have failed to find one so you move from woman to woman seeking it," she says leaning against the headboard of her bed her eyes screaming concern as she scans me up and down taking in my light blue panties with white lace, my breasts sit perkily on my chest exposed. My long dark blond hair lies smooth down my back just recently brushed.

I shrug and slip my light lacy blue bra over my head covering up my breasts. "I came for sex not a psycho analysis. I've gotten the sex so I think I am going to head out before your suddenly convinced I need therapy." I slip on my tight black jeans and pull on my combat boots. "Well this has been fun, and I hope we can do it again..." the rest of my sentence hangs in the air as as falsely spoken words. This won't ever happen again and we both know it. I only keep my girls around for a week at the most. She's lasted for about a month now. I throw on my white tank top and duck out of her room mumbling a farewell.

The cool night air bites at my skin as I burst through the front door of Red's house. I pull a cigarette out of my unopened pack and press it between my lips. I light it and inhale deeply.

The smoke fills my lungs stinging the back of my throat. I suppress a cough and let the smoke slip smoothly through my lips. God, these things are disgusting. Try one my ass. I drop the cigarette and step on it. I toss the pack in a garbage can and stuff my hands in my jean pockets.

I walk aimlessly for a while my mind racing. Why on Earth would I want a connection? I hate people. Men are pigs and the only good things about women are their very delicious bodies. Other than that what's the point of getting attached to someone?

Lost in thought I crash into someone. I lose my balance and land flat on my ass. "What the fuck! Watch where the fuck you-" I cut off as my gaze moves up towards the person that knocked into me. Dark curly waves of smooth hair fall gently down her large perky breasts that are held in by a tight little red dress. She's small and petite with a waist I could fit my long lanky arm around that leads down to a big round ass that begs me to grip it in my hands and squeeze it so hard I leave my hand print. She's bending down so I can see her cleavage nicely from where I sit. Warmth pools in my panties and a fluttery feeling fills my stomach uncomfortably. Her light blue eyes sparkle with concern, her brows knitted close together worriedly. Her mouth is tilted in a frown and she looks on the verge of tears. Her nose is red and her eyes a bit swollen which leads me to believe she already cried.