Mardi Gras

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A swim. I was really looking forward to a swim. The day was hot and sultry with no sign of a breeze, and the next cool change seemed to be days off. It had been a hot, steamy Sydney summer, the past month been made hotter and steamier for me because it had been the month of the gay and lesbian Mardi Gras. In March each year, the city throbs to a queer beat, and this finds me at my happiest. Pure Sydney magic. There was always the hope that one would meet one’s ‘own true love’ at the end of each Sydney summer. Tell the truth though, I’d broken up with Sal after new year, and all I was looking for was some sweat and passion. I was enjoying being back on the scene, cruising happily through the bars and parties.

If you’re dreaming of a butchish tomboy with a fetish for very short crew cuts of any hue, a toned and tattooed body, with several piercings, then you’re thinking of me! I like to work out, I love to swim, and I play almost any sport. Apart from that I dance and laugh, and, well, my other favourite activity is fucking. I like to take the lead, and pride myself on always making my gals want more.

I had been to Kings Cross to my hairdresser. The mardi gras parade and party was tomorrow night and I wanted to look my best. That’s my dykiest best. My haircut was the key element. I’d worn my shorts and a singlet top, over a bikini bottom. No need for a top; I planned to take the train and bus to Bondi after my hair appointment, and there’s no need for a swimsuit top at Bondi.

I ran my hand across the newly shorn stubble on the top of my head. Hair grows half an inch a month, so I need it shaved at least that often to meet my satisfaction. Even half an inch can start to sit down flat against the nape. Leave it any longer, and it was not short enough at all! In the past I have left it long on top, but today was so hot I had demanded it be sheared closer yet … a 00 all over. First it was dyed jet black, so at first it left a pitch black stubble all over. Then I had had it shaved smooth bald around the temples and behind the ears. I have a black celtic design tattoo behind my left ear. It links via a chain design down my shoulder to a series of rose tattoos along Demetevler Escort the top of my left breast, down between my tits and across my right one. When I link chains through my nipple rings, they glint gold against the black tattoo. In tomorrow night’s parade I planned to wear my black leather vest with the titholes and chains looped from breasts to rings on the vest.

At lunchtime the train union called a snap stopwork meeting, and by the time I reached the platform it was still crowded. The trains were running again but it was taking some time to clear the backlog. It was going to be a close and sweaty ride to Bondi Junction and then on the bus to the beach.

Eventually a train arrived and we crowded on. I was squashed against a pole which dug into my breastbone. The doors closed and the crowds settled. I couldn’t move. The train began to sway and behind me I felt breath on my bare neck. It cooled the rivulets of sweat that were trickling down. What??? I would have jumped if there was room amid the crush of bodies, but I am sure that I felt a moist, soft tongue lap up the trickle of sweat as it reached the bottom of my ear! YES! There it was again, a tongue licking right along the back of my ear where the flesh was fully exposed, shaved bare!!! I took a sharp intake of breath, gasped in fact. My head was clamped between raised arms, their owners facing away from me. If someone was dancing their tongue on me, they would be doing so unobserved. My pussy shuddered slightly, my stomach muscles tightened involuntarily. And then, there was a soft, steady stream of cool air being blown behind my ear, where the moist tongue had been. It must be deliberate!

The train took a sudden lurch, and the body behind me was thrown forward. I felt two very hard nipples pointing into the thin fabric of my singlet top. As the train continued its rhythmic progression, the nipples rubbed and hardened still further against my back.

Who was this?

We entered Edgecliff Station. Inevitably some people wanted to get off. Those of us standing in the vestibule had to get off the train to let those emerging from the Otele Gelen Escort seating compartments alight. I stepped out on the platform, looked around to see if I could see who had been assailing me, but there was no hope. There were men in business clothes, a middle aged woman with two children and a bevy of office workers. No one stood out as being an obvious one. We all crowded back onto the train, and I found myself holding a rail by the door which closed near my face. My back was turned to the crowd of people behind me. It was as close as before, if not more so. As we set off, I felt a pair of soft woman’s hands encircle my pelvis. A pair of thumbs found their way, from behind, into the front of the elastic waistband of my cotton shorts. Then the hands flattened against my mound and smoothly the palms started caressing inside my bikini bottom. One finger pressed against my clit….held it down and then circled it, then flicked the hood ring. I was too startled to cry out. I did try to turn around, but merely succeeded in squirming, which encouraged the unseen hands to explore further. One finger traced my slit… wet, from sweat, and by now, excitement. A face pushed close to my ear and whispered “Relax, enjoy the ride!” I went limp, as if mesmerised, and just then the train shuddered and lurched. A finger plunged deep into my hole, wiggling about, exploring the walls. The train lurched violently forward in a series of short kangaroo hops. With each movement, an additional finger was thrust inside me, and my body was bounced up and down on them. As this happened, her nose was pressed into the nape of my neck and once again those nipples thrust forward into my back, rubbing as the train lurched and hopped.

With one final thrust, the train emerged from the tunnel into Bondi Junction station, and at the same time, I gushed wet from my cunt. The fingers were enveloped in the spasm of my cumming. My whole body shuddered.

Then the hands were gone, the nipples were no longer a presence, and I was getting off the train. I looked all around me and couldn’t see who would have been responsible. In somewhat Balgat Escort of a daze, I was carried along by the crowd to the bus interchange, where we all herded onto our respective buses, mine bound for Bondi Beach. I was amongst the first on and got a seat towards the front. I couldn’t see the crowd behind me. I closed my eyes and relived what had just happened to me as we found our way round the curves and narrow streets to Bondi Beach. The bus remained crowded all the way to the final stop…as people got off, they were replaced by others, many children and families going for a swim after school.

Before I could hit the water, I had one more thing to do: visit a friend who runs a piercing and body art studio in Bondi. She had set aside some new jewelry for my piercings for tomorrow night. I climbed the stairs to her studio, and she showed me to a private room so I could examine the pieces at my leisure, put them on and examine them in the mirrors that surrounded the walls and ceiling. The clithood ring had a single sparkling diamond. It glittered and glistened, the perfect complement to a glistening moist bud. I lay back on the soft leather lounge and, raising my leg, examined it with my fingers. I pushed a finger into my cunt, moistened it, and rubbed it on my clit.

The door opened and I thought it was Bella come to check. Instead, a stranger stood before me, a woman so beautiful I thought I had died and gone to dyke heaven. Xena with spiky short hair! She rolled me onto my stomach then climbed on top of me and merely dangled her naked breasts onto the middle of my back. She brushed her nipples against me, and then pushed them more insistently into me. It was the unmistakable feel of the nipples from the train!

She rolled me back over, smiled broadly and sat astride my face. She leaned forward, and started to nibble my clit and use that soft, broad tongue to work magic in my cunt. I stroked her arse and started to lick her as she did me. “No” she insisted, and then got off me. “There is plenty of time for that tomorrow night!”

“Tomorrow night?” I asked.

“Sure, I am your date for the Mardi Gras party tomorrow night! I have been sent by your fairy dyke-mother. And I don’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight!” With that, she buried her face in my pussy and worked her magic once more.

Some time later I left for a cooling swim at last. My new-found fairy-dyke-princess left first. As she went, she said “I know you butch gals like to impress, so make sure you pack YOUR magic wand tomorrow night!”

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