Restless On A Road Trip: A Lesbian Romance Read online

  As we kissed, I dropped my hands down to her butt and gave her cheeks each a firm squeeze at the same time. I adored squeezing her ass. It was so nice and full. As I did this, Maggie flexed her cheeks to make them feel even more solid, more strong.

  “Not bad, huh?” she murmured between kisses.

  “Very good,” I countered, adoringly feeling her rump. Excited for more, I threaded both of my hands into the elastic band of her panties and slipped fingers first down inside. Her rear was a little cold but it started to warm as my hands rubbed over it.

  “That’s nice,” Maggie cooed against my mouth. Her hands snuck under my t-shirt at my waist, lovingly massaging my love handles, offering up firm squeezes just as I did to her butt. I, too, was dressed down to my underwear and I could feel that familiar trickle in my middle as my arousal mounted.

  “I’ve never fooled around in a tent before,” I admitted through humid breath.

  “First time for everything,” said Maggie, eager to return to kissing, to return to touching.

  It wasn’t much longer until Maggie plunged a hand down the front of my panties, her fingertips running through my fur, and easing down further still until she suddenly touched me where I loved it, sending a quick electric chill through my body. I shivered and I sighed, body vibrating, almost grunting as I kissed her harder. Her hand began pumping back and forth, fingers rubbing over my slit, offering me a firm massage as the tensile fabric of my panties kept her hand close.

  Pulling my hands out from the back of Maggie’s underwear, I began to push my own over my butt and down my thighs to give Maggie greater access to me. As soon as I did this, my panties hanging at my knees, Maggie really increased her speed, pressing back and forth between my lips, often moving her fingertips upward to caress my clit, then eagerly returning to my wetness to inspire an ever increasingly lust within me.

  The sounds from outside of our tent, the insects, the various forest creatures, it was almost as though they had gone silent. All I could hear were the heated and stumbling breaths coming from both Maggie and I, alongside the light zippy commotion of sleeping bags rubbing together.

  “Oh God,” I said reflexively, my head collapsing downward against Maggie’s shoulder. Maggie had penetrated me, easily slipping two fingers inside of me, slowly and methodically pulling them out only to immediately push them back in again. With each pressured push, I felt her palm slip up against my wanting little pink bean, the movements of her moistened hand giving me a case of the quivers.

  Maggie was an expert at fingering. My experience with past lovers left something to be desired. Who would have thought that someone who possessed the same parts as you did would know their way around, right? I adored the steady pressure of Maggie’s thrusts and I grinded up against her as though I were riding her fingers. I tried to resume kissing her a few more times but the pleasure made it a bit too difficult to focus. Instead I simply cradled up against her and enjoyed the attention.

  Moving her fingers out of me, Maggie pressed her fingertips against my bud and massaged in slow, steady circles. I gripped onto her and convulsed, mechanically jerking forward against her as the jolts of desire coursed through me.

  “Keep doing that,” I sighed against her ear and she obeyed without hesitation. Maggie continued her circles as she buried her face into my neck and tenderly kissed me. I felt my thighs squeeze inward automatically, which I then tried to counter with forced relaxation. Each time I did that, however, my legs would automatically clench soon after against Maggie’s diddling hand.

  The two of us shifted together underneath the mess of sleeping bags and blankets, clamoring for each other, lust drunk and eager to absorb the heat between us. Even though I was the one being touched, Maggie herself was releasing soft little moans along with her breath, indicating her enjoyment and her arousal by the hot mingling of our desire. I felt the pressure building inside and I reveled in it. I was so jazzed up, I felt as though my heart was about to rip out of my chest. My breath was short, the time between my reflexive clenches and releases even shorter.

  “I’m gonna come,” I whispered to Maggie. “Don’t stop, okay?”

  “Okay,” she called back breathily.

  I felt it start in my belly, my body slowly building to a quiver. Soon my toes and my fingertips felt numb, I felt cold, my butt started to wiggle, my thighs quaking. Then I gripped hard to Maggie, holding her tightly as my body jerked around, her hand pressing against my wet mound, matted fur against my flesh, just cupping me gently as my orgasm began to overtake me. I was moaning into Maggie’s ear, gritting my teeth, groaning, whining. I felt love overtake me and a huge tidal wave of emotion burst over me. And Maggie, too, held me. One hand between my thighs, the other at my side. She adoringly comforted me as I came.

  “Oh shit,” I whispered, eyes clenched tight, almost crying. It was spectacular. I was so happy, I think I was drooling.

  And then Maggie was shushing me, lightly running her fingers through my hair, comforting me, kissing me. All the pleasure I had felt wash over me continued it’s movement until I started giggling. I couldn’t help it. I was joyfully giggling. It just was magical.

  “Did that do the trick?” Maggie asked with the familiar teasing timbre in her voice.

  “It’s still… you know,” I said, searching for the words. “It’s still going.” My body shivered and my limbs wagged, all beyond my control.

  “I love doing that to you,” said Maggie. “You look so happy afterwards.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said. “Why would I be anything else?”

  “I don’t know!” replied Maggie. “I just like seeing that happiness on your face.”

  “Thank you,” I said evenly. I placed a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. “Mmm. I feel all tingly.”

  “That’s how I like you, babe,” she said, kissing me now. We exchanged audible kisses a few more times. “Tingly and happy.”

  I felt as though I were living a dream. Intertwined there amid the rumpled sleeping bags, limbs woven, bare leg to bare leg, arms wrapped around one another, I was just so infatuated with Maggie. I kissed her cheek, I kissed her forehead. She had put a spell on me and I was loving it. The two of us gazed into one another’s eyes and I reveled at how deep blue hers were, blue with little specks. I don’t know if I just hadn’t noticed it before, but Maggie had a smattering of little freckles at the bridge of her nose. I loved each one of those freckles. I wanted to kiss them all individually. I wanted to admire them forever.

  I wanted to wake up each morning and see Maggie smiling contentedly beside me. Every morning from then until eternity.

  Hand in hand, Maggie and I slowly sauntered up the long stone walkway, tall pillars on either side with the various state flags flying atop them, large trees beyond the pillars. As we walked past these pillars, each labeled with the corresponding state name and year admitted to the union emblazoned on the side, together we each searched for what we knew the other was also looking for.

  “Bam!” said Maggie suddenly, pointing and then leaping over, pulling me along with her. “Found it. Illinois, the 21st state, admitted in 1818!”

  “Fine, fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You found it first. Let’s just get to the monument already. I can see it from here,” I said, now pointing my finger out toward the huge mountain in front of us. And into that mountain was carved four heads, each looking regal and stoic. This was Mount Rushmore, one of the most iconic national monuments in the United States. It was large and imposing and unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Yet there Maggie was, gawking over a stone pillar with our home state chiseled into it.

  “It was a competition, Dana,” said Maggie, clearly explaining it to me. “A contest. And, as it turns out, I won that contest.”

  “C’mon,” I said, yanking at her hand and pulling her along. Maggie laughed excitedly and closed in on me, the two of us lightly smacking hips.

  “We gotta see the presidents!” barked Maggie, still laughing. “Out of our way!”


  “Shh!” I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed but absolutely loving it. “Stop being a goof.”

  “You don’t really want me to stop being a goof,” she said. “Do you?”

  “I don’t.”

  “I knew it.”

  The monument was absolutely packed. Mostly with families. Just a ton of people wandering around, taking pictures, trying to find their own state pillar just as we had, admiring the grandeur of this place. As Maggie and I neared the end of the walkway, we looked down and saw an amphitheater below the mountain. But above, etched into the mountainside were the visages of Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln. It was crazy to see such a sight. I’d never seen a sculpture so large before.

  “It’s smaller than I thought it would be,” mused Maggie.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Half kidding,” she said, grinning. Her glasses scooted up her nose.

  “Have you ever seen anything like this before?” I said, motioning toward it. “It’s nuts. Say what you want about the politics of any of these guys, it’s just pretty insane to see peoples’ faces carved this large in a huge granite mountainside.”

  “Okay,” affirmed Maggie. “You’re right. I’ve never seen a granite sculpture this big. So that’s cool.”

  “You don’t sound very impressed,” I said.

  “I mean, I am,” she said, thinking about it. “Or, I want to be. Maybe I’ve just seen so many pictures of it, like it’s so ingrained in my memory, that it feels like I’ve actually already been here before.”

  “Have you been here before?” I said. “With your family or something?”

  “Nope,” said Maggie. “Never. Look, it’s definitely cool Dana.” Maggie was getting animated, pointing out toward the mountain. Meanwhile groups of people walked up to either side of us as we debated, snapping photos, posing in front of the graven image before us.

  “But?”

  “But nothing,” she said. “That’s it. Check it off the list.”

  “You’re just hilarious,” I said, shaking my head. “Well I, for one, am glad we came to see it.”

  “I’m glad,” said Maggie, slinking an arm around my waist and pulling herself close to me. “I’m glad I got to see it with you.”

  “Okay,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. “You get a pass.”

  “They could have at least finished that side of Abe’s face,” she said, pointing up.

  “Maybe you could pitch that to the park,” I said. “Heck, maybe you can get up there and do the carving. You’re an artist, after all.”

  “I could probably do that,” said Maggie in mock seriousness, nodding as she considered it. “But maybe next summer.”

  “I thought we were going to Minnesota next summer?”

  “Fine, the summer after that,” she said.

  “We’ll see.”

  Although I was definitely excited to see Mount Rushmore, the longer we stood there the more I thought Maggie was right. It was undeniably cool but after looking at it for a couple of minutes, well, you’ve seen it. It’s sort of one of those bucket list things I guess, one of the modern wonders you need to see and then probably never see again. How many people have gone to Mount Rushmore multiple times?

  “Maybe if they have events down there at the amphitheater,” remarked Maggie as we walked down that stone corridor and back toward the entrance. “I mean, if you live around here and they do presentations, maybe you come here once a month. I don’t know!”

  “Did you notice what the woman at the parking lot booth said?” I asked. “The parking pass was good for the entire year.”

  “Ha, yeah, that made me laugh inside,” said Maggie. “Oh great, I’ll just slip this into my glove compartment for when I come back here within 12 months.” The two of us laughed together.

  A comfortable silence overtook us, the two of us walking, holding hands, oblivious to all the people running around. I felt like it was so easy to talk to Maggie, to joke with her. We had this connection. We had an unspoken thing. It made me undeniably happy.

  “When we get back to Chicago,” I said, speaking up through the break in conversation. “Can we spend a lot of time together?”

  “Next thing you know,” said Maggie. I could tell she was setting up a tease. “You’re going to want to move in together. Dana, you are a lesbian.”

  “Is that a thing?” I asked. “I don’t get it.”

  “It’s a joke,” said Maggie. “It’s just a stereotype that lesbians move in together fast.”

  “Well, I am month to month on the lease at my place,” I said, playing along.

  “You can move in if I can just keep you in my bedroom,” said Maggie. “Stripped down bare, just ready and waiting to please me when I get home from work.”

  “That can be arranged,” I grinned. Leaning in closer to her, I placed a sweet kiss on the side of her head.

  “Aw,” she cooed. “Thanks.”

  “Hey Mags,” I said, tapping my fingers into her hand as we held hands and walked.

  “Yes, babe?”

  “Am I bitch for not wanting to be home for my grandmother’s funeral?”

  “Are you a bitch?” she repeated, giving me kind of a silly and confused look.

  “Yeah,” I admitted candidly. I spoke with a heavy heart, with a sense of worry and dread, but I felt like I could truly open up to Maggie and that she would be able to give me great advice. “You know, I feel like I should want to race home, even though my mother told me that it wasn’t necessary. She’s being cremated, it’s just going to be a service around her urn. I just… I don’t think I really even care to be there.”

  “And you think that makes you a bitch?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think it just makes you human,” said Maggie. “Your grandmother, well, she wasn’t really there for you throughout your life. Right?”

  “Right,” I said. “I mean, I always felt distant from her. From her opinions.”

  “And it’s not like you totally neglected her from, like, a family standpoint… right?” Maggie said, raising her brow. “You visited her often when she was in the nursing home.”

  “That’s right,” I affirmed. “I talked to her, I tried to be positive, I did my best.”

  “I think you’re putting too much pressure on yourself to be perfect,” she said. “You being at the funeral isn’t going to bring your grandmother back from the dead and it isn’t going to change the fact that she’s pretty much responsible for you hiding from yourself for so long.”

  I took a deep breath and then audibly sighed.

  “Look,” said Maggie, stopping, turning toward me. She had a beaming smile on her face. Her eyes glimmered through the lenses of her stylish glasses. I loved her eyebrows. They there thick and full. Maggie’s face just enthralled me. It was pretty and it was so kind.

  “Yeah?” I peeped, weakly smiling back.

  “This is all we got,” she said, opening her arms up. “Right now. That’s it. Would it be preferable that you were back home and easily able to go to the funeral? Sure. Or, maybe not. But that doesn’t matter. We’re half way across the country, we’re having a ton of fun together,” Maggie said, grinning, demurely looking down for a moment. I could tell she was elated by what was going on between us. “We’re here now. We’ve got a mountain of presidents staring over us!” she exclaimed, now wagging a hand toward Mount Rushmore, still in view.

  “True,” I said.

  “I’m just saying, Dana Darling,” Maggie continued, happily grinning. “This is great. Our trip is coming to an end, sure, but this…” she said, motioning back and forth between the two of us. “This is really just beginning.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I leapt forward and wrapped my arms around Maggie, pulling her in for a tight embrace. Her positivity, her love, her light, that’s what I needed at this point in my life. And she was so willing to give it. We stood there hugging for a few moments, silent and content, until we both pulle
d back and simultaneously came in for a kiss. I’d been searching for this kind of affection for a long time.

  “So what’s next?” I asked finally.

  “Hmm,” mused Maggie, pressing her finger into the corner of her lip. “I think I’ve got an idea.”

  “Huh,” I remarked, walking into the storefront after Maggie. While she excitedly jaunted inside, I slowly ambled, looking around, trying to take it all in. It was kind of a ramshackle store, with florescent lights above, a concrete floor. It was filled with tables and boxes, the walls lined with displays. And although the store itself could use a bit of upkeep, the wares they sold were all quite beautiful. It was a rock and gem shop and I honestly never knew such a place existed.

  “I love rocks,” admitted Maggie, grinning back at me as I followed her. “Did you know I collect them?”

  “Is that why you wanted to go on this mountain road trip?”

  “Precisely!” she said. “I hope it’s not too boring looking through all these with me — ooh! Chrysocolla!” Interrupting herself, Maggie turned toward a display and began sorting through a box of greenish-blue stones.

  “They are pretty,” I admitted, watching Maggie as she picked up the rocks one at a time, held them, looked them over, and put them back down again.

  “I’ve been taking a jewelry making class at my college,” she said. “As a professor, I can take up to two free classes a semester if I like. So yeah, I’m taking this jewelry class, learning how to do that, and some of these stones would be perfect for a necklace or something. Look!” Maggie held up a small but glittering stone, wavy green, little coppery lines haphazard throughout.

  “Nice,” I smiled.

  “You don’t care,” she said teasingly, yanking the stone back and continuing to look through the bin. “Rocks, rocks, rocks,” Maggie sung to herself as she dug.

  “I do so,” I said. “I care about your interests. I mean, I care about you and want you to be happy. If this makes you happy… that’s awesome.”

  “It definitely does,” she said without looking up. “And we should all do the things that make us happy regardless of what anybody else thinks.” With that, Maggie looked up to me and grinned. I loved the way her lips turned when she grinned, the little crinkles at the corners of her mouth.