The story “Donna and Lisa” in Butt Stuff is another gift story — a friend of mine gave me a scenario and asked me to write a story based around it. What ended up happening was a much longer piece than either of us expected, but we both enjoyed it. Here’s part of it:

She looks down, sees long fingers in relief against her skin, sees the softness of her breasts, so much larger than Lisa’s. Though not voluptuous, Donna feels once again like there’s too much of her. She tries to fight down the thought; Lisa bends her head and raises Donna’s breast to her mouth, running her tongue around the large, dark nipple, and that certainly helps.

At that point Donna decides to surrender to Lisa: Lisa’s mouth on her nipples, her breasts, her shoulders, her neck, and finally, again, her lips. Lisa’s fingers tighten in Donna’s hair — it’s not long enough to pull that hard, but Donna wishes it was — and Donna’s hands flex on Lisa’s thighs.

They kiss and touch for a long time. Donna loses track of everything except how good Lisa’s body feels and how wet she herself is. At some point one of them undoes Lisa’s robe and pushes it off, and Lisa’s thighs quiver as Donna strokes them. They’re so, so soft.

And she wants more. She wants to feel Lisa, explore her, but she’s afraid to mess it up. With men, it’s easy — open mouth, insert cock — but she knows her own body is far more complicated than that. What if Lisa’s is too? What if the delicate pink flesh, spread as she sits on Donna’s thighs, doesn’t respond to her?

Lisa touches Donna’s lips with one finger. “What’s wrong?”

Donna blushes; she’s been doing a lot of that tonight. “I’m a little nervous. I’ve…” She swallows hard. “I’ve only been with guys.”

“It’s okay,” Lisa says. “You’re not going to hurt me.” She takes Donna’s hand and guides it between her thighs, gasping as Donna’s fingers press gently against slick, warm flesh. “I want you,” Lisa whispers, voice husky. “I want–“

Her words twist into a stuttering moan as Donna draws her fingers upward and finds Lisa’s clit.

“Please don’t stop.” It’s a breathy gasp. “Please…”

Donna has no intention of doing so.

There’s no stopping now.

I’ve met the real Donna and the real Lisa, and I think my characterization of Donna is pretty accurate. It was one of the first “realistic” stories I wrote — realistic in that not everything is perfect for everyone, that people have hang-ups and worries when they’re with new lovers; I still have those, and I’m in my forties. No matter how confident I am when it comes to my abilities, I always worry a little bit.