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Meet Butch, a strong woman living in The City. You've seen her around, a chubby, dark-skinned female walking about town with more swagger than the average Man.


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Loria
My age: 43
Available for: I prefer gentleman
Hair: I've abundant reddish hair
I prefer to drink: White wine

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for Free! She was looking at me "Finding out what I wanted" 17 Votes Score 4. Published 6 years ago. The bar I had been told about, my friend said it was where butch women go to find lipstick. She eyed me up and down, served my drink without comment and took my money. The bar was busy.

A lot of women, some, like me in dresses, some in jeans, some in good suits, man style. The whole gamut. She was tall. I like them tall. Her hair was cut short but not manly.

Elfin was a word that sprang to mind. I could only see her to the waist because she was leaning against the bar and I was watching her in the mirror behind the drinks. I saw a hint of the shape of her breasts when she moved and her pale blue linen jacket opened slightly.

Standing next to her was a woman in a leather jacket who looked very butch, very manly. The toilet was in the opposite direction from where she stood. I picked up my bag and went to it. I think better on the seat. Resolved, I went back to the bar to find that she had moved and was now sitting on the stool next to mine. I sat without looking at her and picked up my drink.

She said she thought you were looking for something. As I looked up I noticed her jacket was pushed back and I could see the faint shadow of a nipple under the white fabric of her button down. Her hand reached out and she touched my skirt where it went over my knee. Mostly, they make more of an effort to show what it is.

She just stood up, said nothing and went. I followed her back as she walked through the bar, all the way to the door. Not once did she look back. That was the Friday night. On Saturday I went back, earlier than the night before. The same dyke served me a g and t without asking what I wanted. I sat at the same stool. The bar was quieter. The dyke handed me a note.

I looked at her questioningly but she just shrugged and moved away. Service with a shrug, I thought. Untie your hair when you see me. It reached almost to my arse. I was wearing a dress, red with a black patent belt, buttons from neck to waist and red shoes. My stockings were tan. I was suddenly aware of her at the far end of the bar, a different jacket, short cut and yellow. I untied my hair and shook it loose.

I was startled when a small group of musicians clattered onto a stage behind me and I turned to watch them as they set up and thus missed her moving to the stool beside me, not noticing until I turned back. Her trousers were dark green leather this time but with the same boots. She opened her yellow jacket and I saw her breasts clearly through what looked like a body stocking.

They were larger than I had thought and her nipples were dark. I could smell her, a mix of lemon and peppermint.

She came back with two glasses and placed a g and t in front of me. She reached out and took the empty glass from my hand. She placed it on the table then looked straight into my eyes. I watched as her arse swayed, tight in the green leather.

She hailed a cab and it stopped. They never do that for me. She gave an address, not far away. She took my hand and held it. The block was modern and expensive. We rode a lift to the 18th floor.

I followed her down a carpeted corridor and she opened the door and stood back to let me through. I wanted to follow, not lead, but I went in. The hall was lit softly. I could hear soft music and could smell good food.

When I turned she was taking off her jacket. This woman was as tall as her but wearing a dress with a low cut V neck and tiny thin straps. It was tight to the waist and long, to the floor, darkest red. Her short blonde hair framed her well made up face. Blue eyes sparkled in the soft light.

Gin and tonic, I think?

In a sitting room with deep leather chairs, soft light and the soothing music, Lorna handed me a glass. She came closer and pushed my hair back behind my ears, a surprisingly intimate gesture. I felt hands on my hips from behind me.

She took the glass from my hand, placed it on a nearby table then started undoing my dress buttons. My small breasts were exposed. She traced them with her fingertips, her nails lightly scratching. The hands on my hips slid down over my thighs and I felt the dress being lifted. Lorna undid my belt and cast it aside. Together they lifted the dress over my head and Lorna threw that aside too.

Now go to bed. Come and sit with me. We were both in deep leather armchairs facing each other. Tonight I am feminine and I may be tomorrow, or in an hour I may be a dyke again. So, instead of asking, I took a drink from my glass and looked into her eyes. I watched as slowly she pulled the hem of her dress up over long, shapely legs and exposed the strapless dildo which she stroked lewdly.

Her eyes seemed to penetrate me.

She stood, her dress hanging from the dildo and looked at me, her eyes sending a clear message. I knew, absolutely knew what to do. I slipped my knickers down and lifted my knees onto the arm of the chair. She smiled as I stroked my pussy, spreading my lips, circling my clit which was probably peeping from under her hood. My breath was short. The soft light, the image before me, the way I had been brought here, all those things conspired to make me feel wanton, which was precisely why I had gone to the bar in the first place.

She came closer. She simply moved closer and touched the tip of her dildo to me. She pushed her hips slowly forward and I felt the pressure, then the intrusion, and then the deep invasion. She rested her hands on my shoulders and began to rock her hips, slowly at first then with increasing viguour. This was what I had wanted and needed and here it was. It was the sexiest noise I had ever heard. It spewed from her.

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