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Heat	By : Dragonheart Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yuri - Female/Female Views: 5038 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Heat
- 1
Pairing: blonde!LunchxBulma

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Yuri, smut.

Word count: 818

Disclaimer: I own nothing in connection with the characters used in this
fanfiction.

Heat

Bulma had
always thought that Lunch could be very persuasive when armed with a head of
very full blonde hair and a large machine gun. What she has discovered is that
all Lunch really needs is a highly skilled set of fingers and one hell of a
wicked tongue.

That is why
she's lying on the sun kissed beach of Master Roshi's far-away island, (taking
advantage of the heat and the sand while the boys are away being trained in a
dinosaur-ridden jungle), with her back arching
smoothly upwards. That is why her breathing is heavy and her face is flushed.

There is
that strange pulsing feeling between her legs, the sort that she would only get
when alone, shut up in her bedroom and allowing her hand to creep further down
past the elastic waist of her panties. But now that feeling is no longer
pulsing, but throbbing as Lunch runs her tongue slowly - oh so slowly - along
the folds of Bulma's cunt. She's teasing, Bulma knows she is. She can
practically feel the smirk against the skin of her inner thigh when the blonde
briefly comes out before going back again. The fingers of the hand that holds
one of her legs away is circling the sensitive skin; sending odd shivers of
pleasure through Bulma's body that she can not control.

One of
Bulma's hands is in Lunch's thick hair, her fingers tangled in the strands as
she clenches them tightly. The teasing isn't fair, after all. But her efforts
are in vein. Lunch's very skilled tongue makes her whole body shudder and she
can't quite seem to summon the strength to push the woman further in.

�� Lunch's other hand quickly traces a circle
on the thigh of Bulma's leg, making her whine softly. Then it trails up and
over her stomach, feels the muscles underneath the smooth, tanned skin shudder
at the touch. Slowly it goes up, up, then cups under one of her breasts. The
thumb and forefinger close around the erect nipple and tweak it sharply.

The moan
from Bulma is long and needing, yet it appears to be exactly what Lunch is
looking for. The tongue goes deeper in, lightly touching against the clit. It
circled back around, teasing the folds, coming out briefly over the rim, then
back in. The fingers pressing into Bulma's thigh massages the sensitive skin;
the others rubs the nipple between them. They leave
for a moment to move to the other breast, only to return back when Lunch finds
that Bulma's hand is already there.

Bulma is
moaning, her breath hitching as her clit is pressed against,
harder each time. Her mouth, wet and full-looking with generous amounts of
strawberry lip gloss, is open in an 'O' shape.

Then Lunch
presses her mouth against Bulma's cunt. Pushes her tongue in.
Gives some sort of wet, sucking kiss.

Bulma yelps.

For a moment
Lunch is surprisingly still. Bulma opens eyes that she hadn't even realised
she's shut and peers down to meet the green ones that stare back up at her.

"Why
... " she is still breathless, fighting to force
the words out. "Why ... stop?"

"Because,"
Lunch smirks, gets up onto her knees and stretches her body to cover the one
that lies, still quivering, on the sands. "I wanted to taste both ends
before I'm done."

Then she's
pressing their mouths together, pushing her tongue through Bulma's parted lips.
The blue-haired woman responds. Their tongues move and rub together; twisting
and slipping. Bulma keeps breaking away for brief moments to gasp in a mouthful
of air when she can no longer effectively breathe through her nose, only to
have her lips captured again. The hand that is still fisted in her hair
untangles itself and slides down Lunch's back, the perfectly manicured nails
grip the skin. Lunch runs the hand she had pressed against Bulma's thigh up and
presses two fingers into the folds where her tongue had previously been. Pushing. Twisting.

Bulma hooks
a leg over Lunch's hip, spreading herself further open. The heel of the blonde's
hand pushes down into her. The fingers make quick scissoring movements. They
squeeze over the clit once. Twice. Three
times.

The moan
from Bulma ends as a scream as she breaks away from the heated kiss. Her back
arches higher. Eyes clamp tightly shut. Fingernails pierce the skin of Lunch's
back.

Then her spine
is relaxing again. She is breathing heavily. Her body is shuddering. It is only
when she feels something falling over her stomach when she opens her eyes. A
soft white towel, one side dotted with sand, had been thrown over her.

For a
moment Bulma worries that Lunch will leave. That she has taken what she has
wanted.

But those
fears subside when Lunch lies back over her again, drapes the towel over
herself as well, and kisses Bulma again.

END
- 1
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Heat