by
Alexandra Kennedy
"I am so tired of these 'Afrocentric' artists using girls that look nothing
like everyday black women," I said to Marc. Marc had finally persuaded me to
go to one of the art exhibits he loved, and I was not having fun. As his
only single friend, I ended up with him in a gallery full of pretentious
upper-middle-class bankers.
It's not that the painting was bad--in fact, it was quite the opposite.
Obviously an expert painter, the artist had captured unbelievable beauty in a
smoky-eyed, long-haired siren whose naked breasts seemed to beg to be
touched. Not that I would, though. I mean I'm curious, but it would take
some tall shots to get me to do anything. As Marc and I argued about her
merit as a representation of African beauty, a sultry voice interrupted us.
"I didn't really mean for her to represent African beauty as a whole, just a
small part of it." Of course the artist would have to hear me badmouthing
her work. Marc and I turned around and stared into the same face we'd been
arguing about. And she was even more breathtaking in person. I couldn't
stop staring at her as she talked. She said her name was Kas, and that she
rotated several pieces where her self-portrait now hung. The three of us got
into a conversation about the other artwork in the gallery for a while, until
Marc had to head home. I guess he sensed some kind of connection between me
and Kas, because he insisted I stay with her.
After the gallery closed, Kas suggested we walk to her apartment a few blocks
away. We drank wine and talked for hours, ending up where we started--discussing beauty.
"So I don't fit your definition of beautiful?" she asked.
"I can't believe you'd ask that. Everything about you makes me catch my
breath." And I wasn't lying. Kas was so fine it hurt my head to think about
it. I looked up to find her moving closer. Before I knew it, she was
kissing me softly. Her mouth melted into mine, and I slowly slipped my
tongue between her slightly parted lips. I leaned her back onto the couch
while my tongue explored the wetness of her mouth. Kas' hands moved up and
down my body, sliding under the high split of my skirt. I felt her slender
fingers pull my thong away from my body. Startled, I opened my eyes and
looked at her.
"Do you really want to do this?" she whispered. I was afraid to commit to
making love to a woman, but I was also sure I wanted Kas, and it was now or
never. I wouldn't be able to look her in the eyes if I didn't go through
with this.
"Yes," I whispered, "I want this." Kas slipped her hand underneath my thong
and rubbed my slit with her index finger. I moaned into her neck, unable to
believe such a light touch could feel so good. She ran her fingers along my
pussy--slowly at first, then picking up speed. I untied her wrap-front shirt
and kissed her firm breasts, licking her large nipples until she cried out.
We moved so that Kas could sit up while I lay back on the sofa. Two of her
fingers entered me, making me moan with pleasure. I threw my head back as
she worked them, pumping in and out frantically. I had one leg on the floor
and the other over the back of the sofa, and Kas took full advantage of my
position.
She covered my clit with her mouth and flicked her tongue around it, her
fingers still deep inside my wet pussy. I started breathing faster as Kas'
hands slammed into my pussy, her soft lips sucking at my throbbing clit. It
was too much for me to handle, and I came wildly, screaming her name and
bucking on the couch.
When I finally calmed down, Kas was smiling at me like a cheshire cat. She
winked and kissed me on the lips. "That," she said, "was beautiful."
THE END
Copyright © 2001. Used by permission of author. All Rights Reserved.
