M. Zora

“Listen. Either get up here in the next four weeks or this is over.”
The months of trying to adjust to a long distance love affair had come to this. Moira had thrown down the gauntlet. She waited to see if Sherri would call her bluff.
“Are you serious?” Sherri asked. “You want to break up with me?”
Moira was tempted to back down, but couldn’t. “I didn’t say that. But I’m not satisfied with things as they are. If we can’t get it together, maybe we need to let this go.”
“Well . . . I’ma have to get back to you sister.” Sherri’s quiet response revealed her surprise and hurt.
“Alright babe, you do that.” Moira clicked end on her cell phone and picked up her fork again. The brother at the next table gave her a small, knowing smile. Definitely family and feeling where she was coming from. Why she’d chosen to initiate this conversation in public while out at breakfast, she couldn’t say. Suppose it was just time.
A soul expanding sexual connection was the heart of Moira and Sherri’s relationship. They’d spent days and nights and mornings doing things missionary-bound straight folks couldn’t even imagine. Sherri could say for true that she knew Moira inside and out. Her hot hands knew all the contours of Moira’s full frame. Each of Sherri’s fingers hand been bathed in the juices her ministrations caused to stream from Moira’s cunt. Her palms had filled with this liquid and she had rubbed it into both of their skins. In her turn, Moira had helped Sherri to know that her outsized clit was erotic perfection. The first time she’d called going down on Sherri sucking her cock, Sherri’d shot off into her mouth like the words were the keys to a dam, behind which a lifetime of pent-up butch energy was confined.
But that was then, when they were in the same place, physically and emotionally. For a year and a half, they’d been apart, Moira pursuing academic ambitions and Sherri focused on her art. They talked often, and had seen each other 3-4 times, the last six full months ago. It wasn’t enough. It was too hard to keep each other up to date on all the small joys and hurts of their days while living independent lives. As a meteor loses matter hurtling thru space, the emotional world they shared was dissolving in time. This fight was one spark in the tail.
For Moira in particular, the distance was dissatisfying. She didn’t want the relationship at the center of her life, focused as she was on other things. But she needed to be able to see Sherri more often. For the last month, her pussy had been aching. Her sexual fantasizing was out of control. Her voracious gaze raked the bodies of women on the street. Firm young asses, round middle aged bottoms, tight sweaters and large breasts, always the bodies black, mahogany, light brown. Fantasy encounters with these sisters were fodder for midnight masturbation sessions. A trusty vibrator, an impressive dildo for penetration and a fantasy cribbed from porn or of her own making were a dependable recipe for release.
But the shit was getting boring! She needed full body engagement, a full frontal sexual assault, with a loving woman in charge. And if she couldn’t get it from Sherri, she was going to have to get it elsewhere. Cheating wasn’t her style, and Sherri wasn’t down with the open relationship thing. So that would mean ending things, which seemed like a terrible waste. She hoped Sherri would step up to the plate and give her what she needed now that she’d had the courage to let her know just what that was, even if she hadn’t done it in the most loving way.

The chirping sound of the alarm didn’t wake Sherri. She’d slept only fitfully through the night. But it was the signal to get up and out the door for another week of work.
Today she’d take her arts program to a new charter elementary school focused on multicultural studies. The founder had been a patron of her painting for many years. Sherri was excited about this opportunity to combine her skills with a beautiful educational vision. She believed in jumping right in, letting the kids get their hands dirty and minds working. So, she’d gathered materials to begin a mask-making workshop. The project would introduce the children to African cultural forms and ceremonies. The finished products would be ready to adorn the halls by the date of the first parent-teacher conferences.
It would be a good day, if Moira hadn’t fucked it up with her selfish bullshit. As she climbed into the shower, Sherri shook her head for the hundredth time at how spoiled this woman was. Sherri knew that Moira had a deep well of sexual energy. Hell, Sherri did too, but she’d learned to use it for other things, to pour it into her work, into her workouts. She didn’t masturbate, never had. Sex was something she did with her woman or not at all. And when she made love to Moira, she gave it everything, and wasn’t too shy to take everything she needed. At the end of their time together, she would be almost satiated and would once again discipline herself to wait out the next dry spell. Moira, on the other hand, needed loving like a garden needs rain -- regularly. Sherri had opened up this desire in her and it was now her responsibility to tend it. Who woulda guessed that God’s perfect creation for her was a control freak, who needed to be dominated?
The final paradox was that though Moira blossomed under Sherri’s attentions, she also felt suffocated by them. The distance was her choice. Entrenched as she was in her town, Sherri was willing to make the move up north. Moira was the cautious one, the one reluctant to commit. She expected Sherri to tolerate being deprived without a whimper, then broke down herself under the self-imposed discipline and demanded Sherri fix it. Lord have mercy!
The problem with Moira was that she out of touch with her feelings. She’d been pissy and short with Sherri for weeks, but never realized or admitted that the cause of her irritation was missing her girl. Then, when she’d held it pent-up for so long, it had burst out as aggression. Yeah, it was time for a visit. Moira was mistaken in thinking she was running things. Sherri needed to remind her that she might be the queen in the streets, but that when it came to the sheets, she’d better let all of that go and get handled by the one who knew how to handle things. She’d tame that mean kitty, and have her screaming into a pillow, squirting onto the sheets, whispering her name . . .
As she walked to the train, she left a message on Moira’s voice mail with her credit card info, instructing her to book a ticket for Sherri to fly up in two weeks.

Knowing Sherri was coming, Moira’s horniness raced up and leapt off the charts. Though her urge to masturbate was constant, she resolutely desisted, preferring to save up for her time with Sherri. She’d booked her a ticket arriving Friday afternoon and returning home Monday night. That gave them 3 ½ days and three nights. How much fucking could they do? Moira intended to find out. She put friends on “don’t call me; I won’t call you” notice. She ordered up a nice fat bag of the finest indica from bruh man down the block. Short-term memory be damned! She’d get back to her books when the weekend was done.
As the date approached, the crotch of Moira’s panties stayed wetter and wetter. Finally, she stopped wearing drawers altogether, preferring to feel her wetness bubbling in the crotch of her pants, the cool autumn breeze reaching in a finger to caress her hot box.
Laundry was done, her best sheets and sexiest thongs fresh and at the ready. She gave herself a simple, yet thorough pedicure, imagining the attention Sherri would pay to each toe in turn. The rest of her body was treated to the same meticulous attention. Her locs were already immaculate, but these she washed and braided, remembering how Sherri loved to see their waves tumbled across the pillow and around her face. Her toys she put away. They were solo friends only. When she and Sherri were together, Sherri was in charge. Hands and bodies only had been the norm, though on occasion an item or two had made the short trip from the kitchen to the bedroom. They’d talked lightly about adding a strap-on, both wanting it but reluctant to interpose anything artificial between them. As long as both were satisfied, she was happy to give Sherri room to lead.

Sherri didn’t have to look for Moira when she stepped off the plane a few days later. She was waiting, beautiful and brown at the end of the causeway, as close to the gate as security would allow. Moira was naturally feminine, but not fussy. The lightest cosmetic touches served to enhance her inherent beauty. She’d dressed to satisfy her artist lover’s aesthetic sensibilities. Suede boots gripped her muscled calves like strong hands. The hem of her Outkast green skirt was drastically uneven and the brown turtleneck and vest jacket couldn’t begin to hide her curves. Moira wore jewelry Sherri had made for her, amber and other rare stones selected to intensify her unique vitality. Sherri took all this in the seconds before their eyes met.
“What’s up woman?”
At the first sight of Sherri, Moira’s heart had begun to pound. Yet her response was quiet, almost shy. “Hey babe.” Sexual energy swirled between them, mocking the chaste peck and simple words of their public greeting.
“How was your flight?” Moira continued.
“It was fine.” And with that, Sherri had had enough of the public pleasantries. She hadn’t flown to New York to chit chat in the airport. “Let’s get out of here.”
To ensure a quick get-away, she had checked no bags. So, the two linked arms, left the terminal and were soon in the back of a yellow cab. Moira began to direct the driver to her Brooklyn apartment, but Sherri interrupted. Without explanation, she handed the man a business card and directed him to drive there. She then settled back and gathered Moira into the curve of her left arm. With an intense gaze, she drank Moira in, noticing and enjoying the submissiveness which had replaced her brazen telephone persona.
“This heifer got some nerve!” thought Sherri. “Bitching like she’s big and tough to get me here, and now acting like a little girl.” But she loved it and knew it wasn’t an act. Their relationship allowed Moira to expose aspects of her personality a black woman moving through a hostile world learned to conceal. Sherri loved giving her that space, and loved the feeling of power she received from taking charge of such an impressive and intelligent specimen. She moved a bit closer and brushed the back of her fingers across Moira’s left breast, sensing the nipple taut beneath the vest.
“Ummm. You smell good. Is that the perfume you got in Jamaica?”
“Yes love. I’m glad you like it.” Moira’s dark eyes rose to meet Sherri’s and locked on. “You smell good too. Just like you.”
That was it. They tumbled into their sacred place, souls connecting, and began to kiss. Hungry and focused, they didn’t notice and didn’t care about the driver’s furtive glances in the rear view mirror. Their tongues were fat and insistent, lips soft and greedy. Sherri moved her mouth to where the curve of Moira’s jaw met her neck. A small moan escaped Moira’s lips and her knees parted, releasing the good yeasty smell of her warm pussy. Sherri couldn’t resist moving her hand beneath the skirt and up between Moira’s thighs. She imagined actual steam escaping, as if from a volcano, as she approached the source and felt heat and wetness. She did not enter her, did not even touch her humid lips, but contented herself with running her index finger along the crease between her pussy and thigh. Watching Moira as she allowed her this access, realizing that her baby had come wet, ready and pantiless to meet her, Sherri realized that this weekend was going to be something new. They’d had incredible sex before, but they were ready for a new level of trust and intensity. Moira needed something deep, and Sherri intended to give it to her.
“You feel real good baby” Sherri whispered from a throat hoarse with desire.
“I’m for you baby.” With that reply, Moira settled her head contentedly against Sherri’s collarbone. They rode in silence for a few more blocks, a fire stoked and smoldering, until the cab stopped in front of a small store-front on a narrow street. Sherri handed the driver a twenty, and they exited in front of a shop window painted with the words “The Hunny Pot”.
Moira had been here before. The toys she’d tucked away had all been purchased behind the crimson curtains that shaded the store’s interior from the eyes of curious passers-by. But she hadn’t expected Sherri to know about this place. She looked curiously at her lover. Sherri grabbed her gently by the elbow and guided her into the store, saying, “I thought we could use a few things.”
The store was an erotic playground. Vibrators of every shape and design held a place of honor at the center of the store. Erotica, lubes and massage oils graced the east wall. Dildos occupied the same wall further back, and along the far wall, harnesses, slings and porn were displayed. A tattooed white dyke and a geek-chic sistah stood ready to guide the handful of browsing customers through the maze of options. In addition, at least one member of the staff had tried each item on display, and handwritten placards describing the virtues of each toy were displayed alongside the merchandise. They parked Sherri’s rolling bag in a corner and moved toward the wall of rubber, glass and latex penises.
Sherri looked at Moira with a smile. “Pick one.”
“Uh-uh! You ain’t putting this on me.” Moira shook her head from side to side.
“Come on baby. This is for you. I want you to pick something you’ll like.”
“Listen baby,” Moira said taking Sherri’s hand. “I love our sex just like it is. I don’t want to try a strap-on unless you feel like it’s an extension of you. That’s the only way I’ll be able to love it. You pick something that feels like your dick. I’m gonna love whatever you choose.”
Bemused, Sherri looked at Moira with a wry grin. Her girl had put her finger on something. Sherri was conflicted about her desire for a strap-on. In part, because using a strap-on was how many in the lesbian community defined a butch. Sherri didn’t like the labels, didn’t want her identity fetishized and restricted in that way. She appreciated the full complexity of her femininity, which included some masculine expression. She found it difficult to rationally reconcile that complexity with the hard cold reality of a dildo. But in truth, she desired this tool, which would allow her to experience pleasing Moira in a new way. Grinding together in the past, she’d fantasized about entering her, pounding inside of her, cumming hard and deep inside her pussy. Now her baby was telling her it was safe to own that desire, to realize that fantasy in the safety of their bed. Sherri moved toward the shelves and began examining the dildos.
There were silicone dicks swirled with color, soft dicks for packing, anti-phallic figures with dolphin heads, realistic dongs with testicles. The black and brown dicks were bigger on average; stereotype, but Sherri didn’t mind. She considered girth, length, the feel of the materials in her hand. After several minutes, she settled on a firm, red and black swirled 10-inch dick made of latex with a fat head and flared base. Sherri turned to Moira for her approval and found that her baby had left her to her examination in peace. Moira was over on the other wall examining the display binders of pornographic videos and DVDs. She was being assisted by the white salesgirl. Sherri beckoned the black worker over to her.
“How can I help you?”
“I’m thinking of buying this. Have you received any customer feedback about it?”
“Actually, we just got them in stock this week. If you buy it, you’ll be the first.”
“Oh,” said Sherri. “Well, do you think it’s a good choice?”
“Well, it’s a really personal decision, isn’t it?” replied the sales girl. “It all depends on what you want. I can tell you that it’s a high quality toy that will last for years. Plus, I was the store tester and my girlfriend and I loved it. We usually use a more flexible, double-headed dildo, so the stiffness of this was a nice change. It’s hard to miss the g-spot with that fat head and nice curve. In terms of the size, it’s challenging, but not too hard to take if you’re relaxed. Me and my girl are about the same size as you, kinda tall, and the proportions were good for both of us. Looked good, felt comfortable on. I don’t know if you and your girl both intend to wear it. It might be a little big for her to handle. So if you intend to switch off, you might try an 8-incher.”
Sherri smiled. “I don’t think we’ll be switchin . . . but anyway, eight won’t do. If I’m gonna be hung, I’m gonna be well-hung. This feels right. What else do I need?”
With that, the salesgirl led Sherri to the wall of harnesses. They examined several and selected one. Finally, the attendant explained how to clean and care for the dildo, as they walked to the register. Sherri’s paid the $105 on her AMEX before Moira even got to the register with her selections; an erotic video based on Jewel Gomez’ “The Gilda Stories”, some warming massage oil and a tube of lube.
“Oh, you decided to do some shopping too?” Sherry teased.
“Why not?” was Moira’s sassy reply. She paid up and they tumbled out into the street, giggling over their new purchases and enjoying each other’s company.
“Since we’re out babe, I think we should get some food,” Moira suggested. “I did a little cooking, but we can save that for tomorrow.”
“Humph. You just trying to keep me off that ass,” Sherri joked. “You can run but you can’t hide!”
“Shiiit! I ain’t TRYING to hide. I’m trying to eat! You better come on build up your strength . . .” With that they entered one of Moira’s favorite vegetarian spots. The atmosphere was casual, and the spot was filled with other brown lovers enjoying delicious, healthy food and service with a smile. Moira and Sherri enjoyed the pleasure of flirting and playing footsies under the table. They grubbed, shared a pot of tea and got extras to go before hopping the train to Brooklyn.

Moira rented a cozy one-bedroom across the street from New York’s most beautiful park. She’d invested considerable energy furnishing and decorating it on a budget, shopping used furniture stores and the internet for quality pieces at reasonable prices. The result was impressive, and Moira was understandably house-proud. Sherri tucked her new toy and luggage away, then relaxed on the couch while Moira bustled about, hanging up jackets, getting leftovers in the fridge and lighting candles. The scent of ginger began to waft as she tuned the radio to a favorite classic R&B station.
Nesting complete, she turned her attention to Sherri, splayed on the couch. Just admiring her lover’s form, she felt a familiar tug in her groin. She observed the relaxed power of her baby’s limbs, the impossible thickness of her nubby fro, the latent power of her hands and the love that was so evident behind the cocky look in her timeless eyes. Moira moved to the couch and took Sherri’s hands in hers, examining them. This was foreplay, a ritual they’d developed when they lived in the same city. Because they brought her so much pleasure, Moira took responsibility for the upkeep of Sherri’s hands. During highly productive phases, Moira could read Sherri’s day in the colors and textures of paint in her cuticles. Tonight the nails were clean, but needed trimming. Moira grabbed her manicure kit and began to cut them low enough that there’d be no danger of scratching during their love-making. Sherri protested, as usual, that she was cutting them too short and she wouldn’t be able to pick up a paintbrush tomorrow. As expected, Moira ignored the feeble protest and finished the job. The manicure ended with a shea butter massage and a kiss.
Ever the good hostess, Moira then offered her manners. “Would you like a drink baby?”
“What do you have?”
“Beer, some red wine, tequila, Bombay Sapphire . . .”
“Hmm, the gin sounds nice. You feel like making martinis?”
“Sure,” Moira said. “I’ll have one too.”
After a few minutes in the kitchen, Moira emerged carrying a small tray with cocktail napkins, a martini shaker, two glasses with olives and juice, since they both took their martinis dirty. Sitting it down, she poured their drinks, and raised her glass for a toast. “Here’s to ultimatums,” she said slyly. They clinked glasses and both sipped in silence, until Sherri broke the silence with a question.
“Babe, tell me something. Did you mean what you said on the phone? Would you really have ended our relationship if I hadn’t come this month?”
“I don’t think so sugar, but I’m glad you didn’t call my bluff. I was just so frustrated. I miss you. I needed you here.”
“I’ve been stressed out, lonely. And it’s been so long. I was starting to feel like a single girl . . .” Moira cleared her throat, dropping her eyes. This was as close as she’d come to admitting she’d fantasized about other women.
Sherri set down her glass and moved closer to Moira, putting her hands on Moira’s hips. She looked into her lover’s eyes.
“So now I’m here babe. Tell me what you want from me. I want to hear you say it.”
“I want . . . I want you to touch me. I want to feel you inside of me. I want to let go. I want you to help me let go . . .”
Sherri devoured the last word, covering Moira’s gloss-sticky mouth with her own. She moved her body yet closer, lifting Moira’s legs to lay them across her lap, and began to massage Moira’s strong back and plump thighs. One reason that their love-making was so satisfying is that they’d never underestimated the pleasure of kissing. Unlike teens, who forget the pleasures of 1st, 2nd and 3rd base after they’ve hit the home run, these lovers could spend hours kissing and just lightly touching one another. Sharing each other’s breath, they synchronized the rhythms of their bodies and a flow of energy that sent extra blood to their minds and genitals. Reacquaintance with the taste, touch and smell of one another and settling back into the sexual roles that gave them such satisfaction.
Sherri backed away slightly and Moira did not even open her eyes, so content was she in the moment. Sherri tugged at the hem of the turtleneck, then lifted it above Moira’s head and off. The sight of her heavy breasts, gently supported by a sheer demi-bra was a telegram straight to Sherri’s crotch. She buried her face between Moira’s breasts, inhaling her scent, licking the sensitive skin, while cupping a breast in each hand. She was aware of the beating of Moira’s heart and the shallowness of her breath, both increasing in proportion to the tautness of her nipples and areolas.
Moira stroked the back of Sherri’s head, murmuring her satisfaction and encouragement. Sherri’s hands found the simple clasp, and released the breasts from their cocoon. As they tumbled forward, she hungrily caught the left, larger one. Sucking the nipple into her mouth, she was lost in sensory pleasure. With her free hand she kneaded the other breast, eventually bringing them together to tongue and suck both, first alternately, then simultaneously.
Moira’s movements had begun to intensify, the wind in her waist asserting itself, small words issuing from her mouth. “oh . . . oh baby . . . mmmmm.” Sherri knew that they could both come from just titty play, but she wasn’t ready for a climax this early in the evening. She forced herself to release the sweet tits and looked up to see Moira’s dark eyes intensely focused on hers, pupils dilated and lashes wet.
“Why don’t we move into the bedroom?” Sherri suggested.
“OK hun. I’ll just blow out these candles. Look on the nightstand. You’ll find something for you.”

Sherri walked into the comfortable candlelit room and over to the nightstand. “Look at this . . .” She discovered a tray set up with the dime, papers, and a lighter. Sherri was more of a pot-head than Moira and usually provided the stash. But thanks to Osama, a sister would have be nuts to try to fly with some weed these days. She was touched that her baby had gone out of her way to set this up. Sherri settled herself against the headboard and began sorting stems and seeds from leaves. She was licking the joint sealed when Moira entered the room. She watched Moira cross the room, topless and graceful as a pubescent African girl. This woman made nudism make sense!
Moira lay across the bed on her back, her head on Sherri’s thigh. Lighting the joint, Sherri inhaled, then bent to exhale smoke into Moira’s waiting mouth. Their breathing ritual was repeated, the exchange of energy enhanced by the power of the cannibis. They smoked in this fashion for a few minutes, and the high settled in. Each woman first became more aware of her own body. Suddenly the fact that the body was a composite work, composed of individual systems working distinctly but in concert was obvious. Sherri could feel her muscles and digestive system working. Moira became aware of the caress of the air circulating from the slightly opened window on each inch of her skin, each hair follicle. Gradually, their focus moved from their own bodies, to each others’.
Sherri slid her body down along Moira’s and they resumed their kissing. Slow and languid this time as the effect of the mild drug enhanced the ritual like aspect of their love-making. Her left hand played in Moira’s locs, while her right successively pinched and arranged choice bits of Moira’s flesh for sampling – the chakra between the brows was blessed by a pleasantly damp sucking, the nipples again rose like soldiers in anticipation of Sherri’s tongue. They were not disappointed by her attentions. The flesh of the rounded belly was kneaded and massaged.
Sherri’s hand crept beneath the hem of the lovely skirt to stroke the full thighs. With her knee, she encourage Moira to part them, while her fingers crept back to Moira’s pussy, now deeply slick. Sherri savored the saucy, sticky sound as she parted Moira’s turgid lips. She noted the further tightening of Moira’s areolas as the pad of her thumb traced the path from clit to cunt door. There was no reason to suppress the impulse to enter.
Sherri watched Moira’s face as she welcomed the digit’s first joint, appreciating the initial sensation of intrusion. One deep breath and the pussy relaxed enough to show that she was ready for more. Sherri obeyed, sliding deeper, the second joint now immersed in softness. Her mouth enclosed most of a titty as the slow fucking began. The full length of Sherri’s thumb, including the soft fleshy heel of the hand, slowly advanced, circled and withdrew. The fingers of the same hand dangled down toward the bed, and Moira’s back door.
Sherri allowed an index finger to stroke the puckered orifice, and juices began to flow from Moira sweet hole, lubricating her ass. Sherri only massaged, waiting until she felt the initially tense response to the threat of anal penetration pass. As she demonstrated her patience, Moira was able to grasp a physical memory of pleasure from past posterior fullness. Sherri patient restraint reassured her that she could trust her lover to be controlled in this act, pushing her, yes, but only toward pleasure. Moira began to want it, to crave it, her asshole now enticingly fluttering, independently begging for Sherri to come in. The restraint had become a tease, and suddenly Moira felt that she’d never wanted or needed anything more than to feel her ass stretched around Sherri’s fingers – and then she remembered her lover’s new cock. She hadn’t seen it since they got home, but the image of Sherri pushing her legs back over her head, and lining her hard cock up with Moira’s tightest offering . . . using the weight of her body to push, push, push in . . .
OH! It was enough to trigger the first orgasm. Head thrashing from side to side, Moira’s felt her pussy gushing cum. Sherri took the opportunity to give Moira the gift she’d been begging for. The passage of the second thumb into Moira’s asshole sent her to a second peak.
Now Moira’s whole pussy was a seeking, quivering creature, the lips distended and fat, the center soft and hot. Her clit pulsated, still hard and feeling a bit neglected. She knew they’d barely gotten started. Good thing, cause she hadn’t yet tasted her woman.
Sherri remained fully dressed. Moira watched, quietly panting, as she sat up to rip the shirt and wife beater over her head. Knowing that her woman was likely oozing from the vicarious pleasure of the orgasm she’d orchestrated, Moira reached over to unbuckle the belt, and open the pants, encouraging Sherri to raise her hips to be released from their possession. Moira then removed her own skirt, preferring to feel nothing between them. Still, she knew that it might be a while before Sherri was moved to remove her own boxer briefs. She preferred the interference of the cotton, thinking that it presented a roadblock to Moira creeping fingers, lips and tongue and shielded her clit, helping her to maintain control over her own response and therefore focus more fully on stimulating Moira.
Mostly unclad, Sherri wanted to taste the mess she’d made. So lifting Moira’s leg, she quickly ducked beneath it and buried her face in the sweet, musky, pussy perfume. Moira’s outer lips pulled aside, like waves of the red sea parting, to provide this erotic bathing of lips, cheeks, nose, and chin. If this wasn’t good for black skin, lord what was! Sherri’s nose pressed on Moira’s clit, forcing her to breathe through her mouth. She pointed and curled her tongue to reach inside, pulling out and sucking up the cum she caused to flow. Moira writhed, groaned, feeling all the power and vulnerability of this primeval birth imagery. Suddenly her lover’s shining face was before her. Moira grabbed the rough curls, thrusting, thrusting her tongue into Sherri mouth, where it was captured and sucked. Moira tasted herself, and moaned at the press of Sherri’s clothed crotch on her naked mound. They began a slow grind, crotches kissing like circles in a figure eight. The friction was pure pleasure. Skin and hair stretched so tautly over an intricate network of nerves. Their very bones seemed to strain for one another. Moira shuddered, feeling Sherri’s teeth at her neck. Her hands seemed to be everywhere at once – between them tugging at Moira’s nipples, fluttering down to her sensitive hips, raising and pinning Moira’s arms above her head. Moira could feel Sherri’s clit protruding between her pussy lips. She wanted to feel it all! So she begged . . .
“Baby . . . would you take them off? Take your drawers off. Please? I want to feel you.”
“Fuck no. You just trying to get me hot. You trying to make me cum.”
“Yes, baby. I wanna feel you cum. I want you to cum all over me. I want to feel your cum running over my pussy. Baby, I want to feel you. I want to taste you. Baby, please take them off, and come put your pussy on my face. Let me taste you with my mouth. Let me taste your cunt baby. Let me suck your dick.”
If her earlier refusal had been a true protest, Sherri might have manifested some annoyance at the orgasm which raked her body. Of course, the entreaty and denial, the surrender were part of the game. The erotic joy of hearing her baby’s sweet mouth utter such filth was intense, but slowed her down only slightly. She reached down, snatched off her drawers, and quickly returned to grind position. The contact of clitorises was electric!
The tension began to build again, as Sherry’s mouth enveloped Moira’s left nipple and she began to suck in earnest. For this part of loving, too hard wasn’t hard enough. Sucking and grinding, tugging and pushing, Sherri supported her weight with hands in push up position on the bed, her eyes on Moira’s face. Her expressions revealed her mound was getting deliciously sore.
Oh, Sherri loved playing Tea Cake to Moira’s Janey. Her mind’s eye fingered the idea of their sex as a bruise on Moira’s skin for all to see. She imagined the tenderness with which she would move through the streets the next day. Everybody would KNOW that she’d been fucking. They’d see it in her oversensitive nipples. Strangers in elevators would smell her throbbing crotch. They’d imagine her being flat fucked until she couldn’t catch her breath and begged for a taste, for relief, for mercy. These pictures shone from her eyes and into Moira’s. Fantasies intertwined, their tongues tapped out love, love, love . . . Visions of voyeuristic pleasure blending with pain, Moira cried out and pulled Sherri close as the lovers came together for the first time.
In this third climax, Moira briefly lost consciousness. She’d waited to experience these sensations for many months; not to mention the years of pre-Sherri sex, which she now recognized as the basest mediocrity. She gloried in every one of these releases, yet miraculously remained unsated. Their energy was like waves crashing on a coastline –slapping advances, then sucking retreats, again, and again and again, a dance between earth and moon throughout time. It was a gift from the goddess to recognize this as an aspect of woman’s regenerative power. Most men over 30 would have cum once, then checked out for the night, but her 40+ baby was fit to spiral higher and higher.
A toilet flushing … running water. Moira opened her eyes to see the tendril of light which lay across the bedroom ceiling retreat to the bathroom, summoned by the click of a switch. Sherri reappeared in the bedroom doorway, her body a jet silhouette. Moira silently thanked Sherri’s mama for staying country enough to love a wood stove. Regular ax work had defined Sherri’s shoulders and upper back beautifully. She stood with a boxer’s grace, hinted at under clothes, but fully revealed only in nakedness. She walked to the bed and sat at the foot, where Moira had somehow ended up. Missing their contact, Moira curled around to nestle her head on Sherri’s thigh.
There was a soapiness, plus the warm, foreign smell of new latex. Thus she encountered her girlfriend’s new dick for the first time eye to eye. She looked up to Sherri’s face and took in the wry smile. Sherri gazed back, blushing lightly, then handed Moira the glass of water she’d brought in. Sherri sipped, then shared, and finally finished the glass. What with all the fluids they lost while sexing, avoiding dehydration was serious business. She placed the glass on the floor, then returned to Sherri’s thigh.
Using the fingers of one hand she reached out to touch Sherri’s cock. It was warm to the touch, and stiff, with a resilient surface. She traced a path from the head to the base of the shaft where it connected to the harness and Sherri’s crotch. Once down, and back up, index finger twirling the head. Down the other side and back. Instead of repeating a circle, this time she gripped it firmly. Sherri’s thigh tensed beneath her head as Moira began jerking her off. Each upward motion allowed a breeze to insinuate itself between the base of the dick and Sherri’s clit. Each down stroke reasserted the contact and made Sherri stiffen. It was good, but Moira wanted a smoother motion. She remembered the lube she’d bought and pulled it from the drawer of the bedside table. Returning to her former position, she squeezed the tube until glistening lube ran from the head of Sherri’s member to the tool’s sizeable testicles. Yeah, that looked right. She resumed her grip and motion, glancing up now to see Sherri’s eyes closed, half of her lower lip caught between her teeth.
“Open your eyes, baby” Moira cajoled. “Look at your beautiful dick.”
Sherri did look and did find beauty in the sight of Moira’s fingers fondling her erect, shining cock. Sherri reached between her lover’s legs to find the hot wet slit south of her buttocks. She massaged the pussy, pulling on the already distended lips, gathering them in her hand. She then used three flat fingers to rub from clit to Moira’s wet hole, her strokes matching Moira’s own. When she entered her, she did so with all three fingers, stacked but still stretching the cunt to pleasing fullness. Pumping to match Moira’s strokes, she primed the pussy, until it responded by lathering and twitching. Moira began hand fucking faster, and Sherri agreeably adjusted her speed of penetration, using four fingers now, with her thumb on Moira’s spare tongue. Moira was winding her ass, moving down to meet Sherri’s hands, wanting it harder and deeper. Suddenly, Sherri knew that she wanted to oblige.
“Get up.” Raw desire had made Sherri’s throat raspy. “Get on your hands and knees.” Moira complied without question. She knelt on the bed, facing the headboard. Between her legs Sherri continued to stroke and tease. Reaching around, she pinched Moira’s tit while moving up close behind. The head of her dick pressed against Moira’s ass, then bounced to her inner thigh. Sherri gripped it, then began to slide it between Moira’s pussy lips, stopping now and again to tap the head on her clit.
“You want this inside don’t you Moira? You want to get fucked with this dick? Isn’t that right? Tell me you wanna get fucked tonight.”
“Oh Sherri, Sherri please . . .”
“Don’t give me that ‘please’ bullshit. What you mean is ‘please fuck me now.’ That’s what I’m here for, right? You wanna get full up, don’t you Moira? You want me to slide this shit all up in your belly don’t you? You wanna feel me banging inside of you . . .”
Sherri grabbed Moira by the hair and pulled her head back, exposing the tender neck.
“Yes baby. Slide up in me please. Fuck me tonite sugah. I need it so much.”
“Don’t call me sugah. You know what I want you to say.”
“Daddy. Sherri Daddy. Please fuck me. Fuck your girl.”
“What’ll you do for me if I fuck that pussy right?”
“Whatever you want Daddy. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“You gonna suck this cock?”
Sherri inserted the head of the strap into Moira’s sugary cave.
“Ohh! Oh yes! I’ll suck it Daddy. I’ll lick all my cum off of you Daddy. I wanna taste you so bad! But please, please fill me up.”
Moira writhed as Sherri used a forearm to push her torso down onto the pillow. Now Moira’s round ass was presented like the beautiful gift it was. Continuing to tug on a breast with one hand, Sherri used the other to bring her cock in line with Moira’s tight cootchie. Putting her body weight into the motion of her hips, she slid home. The fit was tight, deep and so pleasing that a last lingering uncertainty about the rightness of this form of engagement was banished forever. The pleasure was so novel, that for the first time, Sherri was as caught up and out of control in sensation as she kept Moira.
In her turn, Moira’s breath was as hard a presence within her lungs as Sherri’s dick was in her crotch. The texture of the dick complemented her internal textures. The length extended just past her comfort zone. The girth was likewise a pleasing challenge she was determined to match. Her nipple and her clit were in constant full voiced communication while her mind was simply trying to survive the electrical storm.
Sherri’s sweat was dripping onto Moira’s back, running into the crack of her ass. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” with the head of the dick leading the way, deeper and deeper. These grunts mingled with Moira’s unconscious whispers of “please, please, please.” She was begging for less, begging for more, begging for fulfillment, begging for release. Moira’s pussy was becoming something she could not control. She tensed, fearing that in cumming she’d drench the bed. A second later, she knew that if that was the price of this sensation, she’d have to pay it, without shame. Breasts swaying, head down, thighs trembling, wide open, she started cumming, cumming, cumming, gushing and screaming. She felt Sherri’s finger on her clit, basking in the uninhibited flow, heard her holler as she frantically thrust, grabbing Moira’s hips and pumping her love, her life, into the deepest recesses of her being. Pussy muscles grasped the dick within her and exhausted they collapsed, still coupled, like two dogs in rut.
Sherri waited until Moira’s breath had begun to quiet and slow, then slowly pulled out of the still twitching cunt. Turning on her back, she stroked Moira’s shoulder blades.
“Moira. Moira. Don’t even think about falling asleep girl. Turn around. You got a job to do.”
Moira flipped to her other side. Her eyes raked Sherri’s body, beginning at her closed eyelids and moving south to the glistening, upright phallus. She turned again, until her head was at Sherri’s hip, gripped the cock at its base and began to lick it clean. Her mouth washed the shaft, from base to midpoint. She then opened wide to accept the large head. She tongued the urethra-like depression at the tip, then sucked the head into the deep back of her throat. Moira reached up a hand to caress Sherri’s abdomen and stroke her nipples. She kept up the cock sucking, until she’d sucked off every drop of cum she’d deposited. When it was gone, she could no longer resist the smell of her girl’s wet pussy. She had to taste her! Leaving a hand to tend her post, she darted down between Sherri’s legs, tugging the central strap of the harness slightly aside to allow her tongue access.
Sherri surrendered as Moira’s tongue lapped at her creamy center. Her clit jumped back to attention, like a good soldier. Throwing back her head, she peeped the numerals on the bedside clock. 3 AM, day one and two nights to go. Break up my ass! she thought. This trip is gonna be worth the price of the ticket for sure.

The End

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