Within a room, tucked snugly away from the red sun were a pair of woman: suppine on their beds and sofas.
Their limbs cascaded over their beds like a warm, sensual river of limbs and muscles. Their legs and arms swelled in all the right places. In the right lighting, their body and legs seemed to swell with the right amount of beauty and grace.
Shadows accentuated their contours, light hit and bounced off their forms: revealing a beauty symphony of flesh and shape.
One of them carried a thin strap around her right thigh. It accentuated her, to the point her status. She fingered it suddenly reflectively, as the nights before came back to her.
Memories from the evening before came to her in a flurry: another lesbian. A third lesbian in pinstriped black and white watched. She grappled with the other lesbian. Their fingers expertly probing each others supple vaginal region.
They grunted: gasped and groaned. They carried it on as would two ancient wrestlers bathed in oil. The other lesbians had a strap: her prize.
A foreword: from streets, lesbians came into a building: a haven and hotel. They checked in: just for a day or two. Until they got on their feet again.
Lesbians who stayed had an understanding with the owner.
For a token, they could stay in better rooms.
Tokens were things from rings to straps, belts, strings, or garners.
Leslie a spry lesbian from IL moved in.
As she understood it: if she won a token, she won a room.
The premise was simple enough: get it from a lesbian.
She took on the first lesbian in a challenge: her string for a better room. So they grappled in finger sex. It wasn’t always sex. Leslie once saw two lesbians vie for a token in a game of chess.
She didn’t know chess, but she did understand sex.
Leslie and lesbians bonded to each other, across floor and room. After 40 minutes of frantic finger sex, each hoping the other would ‘cum’ first, the other lesbians collapsed in a fit of orgasm:
Leslie removed the lesbian’s string and affixed to her own leg.
The rest was of Leslie’s memories were the following morning: in a soft bed, with her lover, a lesbian local to California.
Leslie fingered her string reflectively: her landlord didn’t required anything of her, except that token.
The rules were invented by a remote LGTQ member. On occasion they filmed the finger games.
Leslie had to accept any challenge: to keep the room.
She wore her string: she earned her room. If outsexed, she left.
Leslie eventually learned of better amenties on the next floor: She moved up the stairs.
She was admitted to the next floor.
On the lower floor they wore one string: here they wore two.
Leslie took off her string left it at the door of another lesbian. Generally her way of offering a challenge: sex.
She followed through the very night. Through the door of her opponent, she saw a latina lesbian sprawl on her bed. Her vagine exposed, facing the door. She accepted Leslie’s challenge.
Leslie’s slide her finger in her oppornents vagina, the Latina responded. They sparred, late into the night.
In an endurance game, they lasted hours.
Leslie removed a slop of sweat from her forehead and hair. When it felt she might lose: her opponent collapsed first, her hands to her breasts in a passive defeat.
Leslie picked up her string and untied the second from her opponent.
Next morning she made a real breakfast with eggs leftover from the last tenant. She invited her lover: they had sex, often slow, soft, gentle.
Leslie had every reason to believe her gifts as a lesbian would take to the next level and beyond. Her lover evidently thought so: she cuddled with her that night. They felt safe.
Reflexive, she fingered her tokens, wrapped around her legs. She did so before every sex game.
By day, she retained a job. By night, she wrestled.
Her last challenge was a mixed Spanish-German wrestler, Jillian. Leslie was pressed for all her wits and strength to win. It took one hour: eventually, Jillian broke down. Leslie sighed once for relief.
She kept her thigh straps on for the night.
There were other floors. Leslie planned to visit them.
Some day: she might make it up to the top.
As her neighbor lesbians sometimes said, they were just second-degree lesbians. A reference to two tokens around their limbs. Some wore them on wrists, or arms, others on belts, calves or thighs.
This was less new among lesbians or they called themselves in a hotel ran by a lesbian:
1St and 2nd Degree Lesbians.
from a creative commons of lbgt stories (not licensed)
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