by
Soft Spoken
Since we’ve been together, I can honestly say that there never has been a dull moment with you. And keeping me from feeling bored is not an easy thing to do…

This particular evening, we are dining at one of our favorite restaurants, DoJo’s in the Village, and I catch myself staring at you. We are just having a conversation, but I seem to be hypnotized by your lips, with each word you speak pulling me deeper into a trance. I must have been reminiscing about the way your tongue sterilized my body with your saliva last night, because this uncontrollable shudder went through my body. And I guess I realized that I returned to planet Earth as soon as I heard the waitress place our appetizers on the table: spinach salad and fried calamari with tahini sauce (our usual). As I am savoring the first bite of the calamari, I wonder to myself if the squid has the same texture of my clit – firm, smooth, and wet. I delight in answering “yes” to that question, as I watch you devour each piece as if it were the last. So I decide to be brave and ask you, “What does pussy taste like?” As the tables are arranged so close together, the two women next to us can’t help but overhear our conversation, and it is further confirmed by the abrupt halt in their conversation – one woman was engrossed in retelling her recent vacation stories and she’s showing the pictures newly developed through the one hour process at CVS. She stops mid-sentence, and turns to her left, waiting to hear your reply. It’s like you are E. F. damn Hutton, baby!

Unfazed and definitely not embarrassed, you reply (without hesitation), “Maybe you’ll have to wait to find out.” We return to our meal, and as I finish up the remaining calamari, I can’t help but wonder when that day will come. I am anxious to experience a fraction of the ecstasy you feel when you are eating me, and I know that you will be a good coach to me whenever the opportunity should avail. Dinner is finished and we head towards the subway. I ask you where we are off to next, but you do not answer me this time. I decide not to ask again, because I know you heard me – you couldn’t hold back from that devilish grin which broke across your face, so that tells me you’re up to something.

We exit the subway station (I wasn’t paying attention to the stops), and I reassure myself to just relax because you’d never put me in harm’s way. Ten minutes later, we’re walking into a club, and before going in, I see you whisper something to the bouncer. He smirks, and places this neon pink wristband on me – just like the kind they give out at the clubs that allow the under-21 crowd, as an indication that you’re of legal drinking age. But I’m a little perplexed because he didn’t ask for ID, and he didn’t give you a bright pink bracelet to wear. I raise my voice in protest, “I’m old enough to drink,” but apparently, he doesn’t hear me because he’s busy taking money from the next patron in line.

Inside the club, the music is deafening, but the fluorescent purple lights throughout the club immediately pacify me. The club is definitely packed, and from surveying the faces on the dance floor, it seems as if this is a happening place to be. I throw caution to the wind, and I decide that I’m going to have some fun. I look around and I see some waitresses carrying drink trays, and remark to myself how I love the way the color white reflects underneath the fluorescent bulbs. A waitress approaches, and I notice that her white French maid’s apron has nothing underneath, so of course I can’t wait to watch her walk away! As she goes to take my drink order, she notices my pink wristband, and hands me a drink and tells you she’ll be back in a sec to bring you the cola you asked for. Just as I suspected, she is wearing nothing underneath, and I can feel my juices flowing as I’m watching her succulent onion walk away. If her ass were crime, I’d gladly play McGruff and take a bite out of it. She returns with your soda, and hands me another drink, even though I’ve yet to finish the first one. She encourages me to drink up and have a good time tonight, and winks her eye. I smile at her, and raise my glass in acknowledgement.

We find a place to sit, and I am simply in awe of the partygoers. Halfway through finishing my second drink, I hear a voice behind me, “Do you wanna dance?” I think they are talking to you, but you look at me as if to correct me that it is me who is being asked. I turn around and see that it is a female, and begin to stammer a lie.

You coax me, “Go on, baby, have some fun – I’ll be here waiting.” She grabs me by the hand, and leads me to the dance floor. As we’re dancing, I don’t happen to notice the other woman who is now dancing behind me, and every now and then brushing up against my ass. At first, I think it’s another couple dancing so close to us, because the dance floor does seem to be a bit overcrowded. But as the touches become a little more obvious, I decide to play the “butt game,” a little term my girls and I came up with in college to refer to that “innocent” act of grazing a guy’s dick with your ass to get it hard so that he’ll want to fuck you. So at first, I’m wiggling my ass in response to the touches, but am a little surprised to see that those hands belong to a woman. I turn around to face my new dance partner, although this one is an aggressive stud.

After the song finishes, I return to face the other woman, who is trying to invite herself to play in the butt game. The aggressive stud must sense some type of challenge, because now that my back is facing her again, she decides to reach around me and graze my nipples, which are now standing at attention like a young cadet at boot camp. At that moment, my pussy juice either hits the floor, or the aroma hits the air to signal that I’m in heat, because the first woman straddles my leg and begins to grind on it – the sensation I’m feeling tells me that she is not wearing any panties.

I don’t know why, but it’s as if I’m frozen to that very spot, because I don’t move or flinch when I feel the moisture transfer onto my skin. She takes my left hand and places it on her ass, and slides it down towards the hem of her dress, and then up under the hem to confirm that she is in fact not wearing any panties. She guides my right hand to the front, and I am quite intrigued by the soft bush of hair I feel on her pussy, but she doesn’t stop there. She pushes my hand lower, until my fingertips are at the opening of her kingdom come. Again she pushes, and with a thrust of her hips in one quick forward motion, I find my fingers inside of her. It is warm like my own, but with an intensity I’ve never felt. I convince myself that I can get accustomed to this.

I must have looked like I was beginning to enjoy this because the aggressive stud tells me that I need to keep my hands to myself, and yanks my hand out of what was becoming a comfortable spot. She turns me to face her, picks up my right hand to sniff it, as if she is doing some type of inspection. Without even asking my permission, she begins to lick my fingers one by one. Although she is dressed ruggedly in a black hoody and Timbs, I discover her lips are surprisingly soft, her sucking gentle and not at all hurried. Just as she is swallowing my index finger, my clit starts to pulsate and I can feel a surge of warm liquid escape onto the crotch of my panties.

I quip that I did all of the work without getting to taste any of my efforts, so the first woman kindly leads my right hand again to her paradise. This time, I find her pussy wetter than the first time, and I find myself doing a series of thigh squeezes in an effort to restrain what I feel is churning on the inside – a desire to be fucked by both of these women, and if I’m lucky, at the same time. Slowly, my fingers move in and out of her pussy, the way a bow glides across a violin during a really sad song. She also starts to moan, and play with her tits, and since she recognizes that I am a captive audience, she slowly begins to remove her dress by way of her shoulders. She does not remove her dress completely, but at least I’m getting a better view of her tits. They are the size of Valencia oranges, and although I consider myself to be attracted to huge breasts the size of honeydew melons, I find myself getting a little turned on.

Without taking my eyes off her, I withdraw my fingers and slowly enter them into my mouth, emitting sounds of approval as my finger goes deeper into my mouth. The aggressive stud (who I am somehow turned on by) turns me around and tries to kiss me. I pull away, and use the excuse that I am here with you, and need to go to keep you company. I excuse myself from the dance floor, and I turn around to get one last look as the topless woman, whose pussy I was just getting acquainted with, and instead see her and the aggressive stud engaged in a passionate kiss and wild grope session. I shrug, and think to myself that they must have come here together, and if not, they surely look like they’ll be leaving together.

I finally found the table where you’re sitting, and I apologize for being gone so long. You explain that it’s okay because I looked like I was having fun on the dance floor. I blush heavily as my mind recalls the events from thirty minutes ago, and I ask, “You could see me?” to which you reply, “Yep,” but there is no change in the tone of your voice. I was expecting an argument to follow, but got nothing. Maybe you’re saving that for later. But I know you, and if it were to bother you, you would have said something right then and there.

As I sit down, I notice that I hadn’t finished my second drink. I greedily gulp it down because I worked up a sweat on the dance floor. No sooner than I put my glass down, the waitress appears with another mixed drink for me and another soda (this time with a twist of lemon) for you. I try to refuse the drink, but she reminds me that there is a three-drink minimum at this club. I ask her if I could at least order something different, but she points to my wristband and simply says, “Not tonight, or at least not now,” and she smiles the same devilish grin I got from you as we were leaving DoJo’s.

Overcome with thirst, I swallow this third drink down, but later realize that the alcohol is creeping up on me like a burglar in the middle of the night. My head starts to feel dizzy and the room starts to spin. Beads of sweat begin to break out on my forehead, neck and in between my breasts. I feel like I am on fire. I try fanning myself with my hands, but that’s to no avail. Seeing my discomfort, you suggest that I go to the ladies room to splash cold water on my face. Before leaving the table, I ask you to come to check on me if I’m not back in a few minutes. A precaution perhaps to make sure that I haven’t passed out in the bathroom.

As I enter the bathroom, my eyes immediately squint from the bright white lights, obviously a stark contrast to the dark purple atmosphere in the club. I find the ladies’ room typically crowded, with some waiting to use a stall, while others are touching up their makeup. I try to make my way over to a sink, but there is no room. Someone notices my pink wristband, and asks me what do I need – a toilet, or the sink and I reply that I just need to splash my face and neck. You would have thought I was Moses parting the Red Sea, because the three women that were at the sink moved out the way – I lean over the sink, and begin splashing cool water over my sweat drenched face and neck. This feels so good that I’m tempted to wipe down my pussy, which is emitting a different type of heat. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a pair of coffee colored breasts the size of casabas right next to me. I stand up and pretend to fix myself in the mirror. I didn’t realize how captivated I am by her breasts, because I went to turn on the faucet, and turned it on too fast. Water splashes over the entire front of my dress and drenches it, causing the woman to step back.

Seeing my dress, she offers to help me dry it. She finds an empty stall, and leads me in. “Take your dress off and I’ll go dry it for you. You can wait here until I come back and then put it back on.” I unbutton the dress and slip it off my body. At that moment, I’m glad that I’m wearing matching bra and panties. She exits the stall and I begin to get nervous and wonder what would I do if she just disappeared. How could I explain to you that I let some strange woman take my dress – not “take” as in “by force” because I clearly gave it to her. So here I am, alone in this stall, trying to fight off a whole new set of urges that have occupied my mind since I laid eyes on those big titties next to me at the sink.

A few minutes later, she returns with my dress, and a few lavender towels. Seeing that I am a little pale, she closes the toilet seat cover and lays one towel across it. “Here, sit down. You’re looking a little flush, so I’ll go get you something. How many bomb-ass pussies have you had tonight?” I am flabbergasted by the question, and she clarifies: “The drink – how many drinks were you served so far?” She taps my pink wristband and asks me again. I respond that the waitress told me there is a three-drink minimum in the club, so I know I finished all three. She asks what time did I arrive at the club – I told her it must have been around 12:30am. She looked at her watch that read 1:15, and shook her head. “That’s why you’re sweating to death – you finished your drinks too quickly – when you’re dealing with bomb-ass pussy you’ve got to take your time.”

I protest, “But I ain’t had no ‘bomb-ass pussy’ tonight – I was just fingering a girl on the dance floor, but it didn’t go any further than that.”

She giggles. “No, ‘bomb-ass pussy’ is the name of the drink they serve to anyone wearing a pink wristband like yours. It means you’re a virgin to the club or a virgin to the lifestyle. Let me go get you some aspirin so your head will stop aching. Bomb-ass pussy has a funny way of sneaking up on you. It normally takes one hour for one drink to go down nice and smooth, and here you finished the three-drink minimum within a span of 45 minutes. Next time you’ll take your time with the pussy and won’t be in such a rush. The pussy wasn’t going anywhere was it? The drink, I mean," she corrects herself. "It wasn’t going anywhere, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” but my head is really hurting by now, and seeing me in pain, she promises that she’ll be right back. My fear subsides once again when I see her return, this time with a bottled water, and a little paper cup with a pill inside.

“Here, take this – it will make the room stop spinning.” I comply, and she was right. The room stopped spinning, but now my pussy starts to ache again. The feeling intensifies as she straddles my lap, putting those big bazoongas at eye level. They are so big, they look as if they are coming at me in 3-D. More like 52-DD, because that’s what I estimated her bra size to be, except she wasn’t wearing one for me to check. “My name’s Denise, baby. What’s yours?”

“Sunshine,” I replied, not wanting to tell her my real name.

“Hmmm, Sunshine, huh? How’d you get a name like that?”

“One guy told me that my pussy warmed his dick like the sun’s rays on a hot day in July – that he fell in love with the way I made his dick feel, and would stay inside as long as he could. And another guy told me that my pussy must be as good as Lela Rochon’s character in Harlem Nights – the one where the guy called up his wife and told her he was leaving her. So from there, the name just stuck. No one has disputed it yet.”

“Well, your pussy ain’t been put to no real test. Guys are gullible motherfuckers. They’re just happy to get some pussy whenever they can, so some of them will feed you that corny bullshit so they can get you to give in to them whenever their dick gets hard. Once you’ve been with a real woman, you’ll see if you’ve earned your stripes. Did you swallow that pill?”

I nod my head yes, but she asks me to open my mouth so she can check for herself. I do, and she asks me to move my tongue around to make sure I’m not trying to do the old fake-out and spit it out when she’s not looking. I move my tongue from side to side, and she must have interpreted this as an invitation because she starts to explore my mouth with hers. I never even noticed her tongue is pierced, and I must admit that this is probably turning me on even further. I’m getting lost in our kiss because I don’t even realize that she’s taken off her shirt, leaving her luscious ripe melons exposed. Her nipples, which are larger than some women’s entire breasts, seem to be calling me. I am in awe at how perky they are, and seem to be torn as to what to do, since I “suddenly” remember you’re in the club waiting for me and may even begin to worry. She senses my hesitation, and places one hand gently on the bottom of my chin and pulls down – a technique I recognize from my breastfeeding book that shows you how to help the baby latch onto the breast and open wide enough in order to take in the entire nipple. I sure am getting thirsty, just from looking at these magnificent ta-ta’s of hers. She leans a little closer, directing her nipples into my wanting mouth.

Although I’ve never done this before, she begins to moan, and it feels like she’s trying to shove her whole titty in my mouth. I know it won’t fit, but I’ll damn sure try. Her nipple is growing harder in my mouth, and it’s starting to get longer, that for a split second, I’m starting to work that bad boy like I’m giving head. Not wanting to ignore her other breast, which she is fondling, I move my lips over to her left breast. I’m sucking with a fury now. Her moans are starting to get louder. She is also writhing on my lap, and I can feel the heat she is not trying to contain. At least I can tell she’s wearing panties, though they must be in her way, because she stands up to remove them. As soon as the panties hit her ankles, she steps out of them and returns to sitting on my lap. “Show me what you were doing to that girl on the dance floor,” she whispers softly in my ear, and finishes the sentence with her tongue entering my ear canal. The feel of the tongue ring in this sensitive area drives me wild, and I’m secretly praying that I’ll get to feel this on my clit before I go back to the table where you’re sitting. I reach down to her crotch, as she raises up just enough to make room for my hand.

I’m not surprised to find her love button drenched with her fluid, and as if my vagina tries to compete with hers, I feel my own juices running onto the towel. Curious, I inch my fingers inside her walls, first one, then two. She begins rocking back and forth and then up and down on my two fingers. I’m getting more aroused as I feel her moisture increase. Her luscious tits are slowly swaying in front of my face and with my left hand I steady one of her breasts, and lead it towards my mouth. I moan in sheer delight. After a few minutes, she lifts herself off of me, and I look at how my fingers have been glazed by her pussy juice. I can’t resist the temptation of tasting them in my mouth. I moan again, to let her know I am pleased. Her pussy can definitely give KFC some fierce competition, ‘cuz this shit right here is definitely finger lickin’ good!!! She nudges my legs open, and drops a towel on the floor – she kneels in between my thighs, and says, “Now that you’ve tasted me, it’s my turn to taste you. Let me see what these fellas are gassing your head up about.”

Her rhythm is slow and rehearsed, and I feel like I’m being teased. I try moving my body to meet where her tongue is, but she gently pushes me back down to the seat. She lifts her head and reminds me – “Now if I told you that you’ve got to take your time when dealing with bomb-ass pussy, the drink, what makes you think you can rush when dealing with the real thing? You ain’t dealing with a guy who just licks the clit a few times so he can hurry up and stick his dick in you. Just relax and experience the difference.” I lean back a little as she lifts my left leg up to rest on top of the toilet paper holder. This gives her a clear view of her intended target, and her tongue moves in on my clit in an orchestrated motion. Her tongue ring stimulates my clit in a way I’ve never felt before. I groan and grunt, but she knows I’m not in pain or uncomfortable with the sudden sensation. She continues stroking me with her tongue. I can smell my juices escaping from my walls, and she has yet to enter inside. I couldn’t possibly be cumming so soon, but feel my body shudder and tremble.

This must have been the cue she was waiting for because she inserts her tongue inside and flicks her tongue against my G-spot. As she massages my secret cove, I feel another wave of heaven sweep over me, and a sudden gush of fluid drenches the towel underneath me. Thinking I peed on myself, I look down and am relieved (but a little embarrassed) that there is a medium sized puddle of pussy juice collected in between my thighs. She scoops some up, and rubs it on her breasts and nipples, which invite me to partake in them once again. She stands up and pulls me to her, and I bend down to suck my own cum off her massive tits. I must have cum again, because I cry out this time. She lifts me to my feet, and takes her place on the toilet seat. She teases my belly button with her tongue ring, and reaches around me to unfasten my bra. She removes my panties, which I totally forgot were still on – she was maneuvering her tongue so well that I thought she had 100% access to my love tunnel. She spreads her legs and starts massaging her clit. “Can you do to me what I did to you?” she asks.

“I’ve never been with a – with a – with a woman before” I stutter.

“I know you haven’t, but you just have to be gentle with the clit. Don’t try to eat me the way guys have eaten you – did you feel a difference in the way my tongue was gliding over your entire body?”

I whisper, “Yes.”

“Talk nicely to my pussy and she’ll talk back to you. Why don’t you try to spell out my name on my clit, and just remember to take your time.” Talk about being overcome with performance anxiety. Here this woman is, with these big bodacious jugs, just finished making me cum at least five times, and now I’m worried that I won’t be able to give her one orgasm. She cups her titties, and arches her pelvis upward so I can get a better angle on her pussy. She’s even got her clit pierced, which I didn’t notice before. Her pussy lips look as if they’ve been dipped in honey. With both hands, I gently part her lips like I’m breaking open an oyster looking for a pearl – her pearl, cuz her clit is definitely coated with a sticky white substance. I delight in knowing that I played a part in her being aroused to this degree. She rests her leg on the side of the stall, and I see a faint trail of cum trickling down to her asshole, which I wonder if that tastes as sweet as her pussy looks. I decide to go for it and ease the tip of my tongue over her clit, as if I am painting a masterpiece – careful with each stroke that hits the canvas. After playing with her clit and giving it my undivided attention, I decide to go inside her house and take a look for myself. As my tongue enters her, it is met with a sticky rush of cum, which makes me want to eat this pussy until it turns inside out. “OOOOOOOOoooooo – you’ve got such a long tongue, that I’m sure you can reach all the right spots…can you find my magic box, Sunshine?” My tongue is probing the territory, and when she gasps, “Oh, shit!” I guess that I’ve found it.

I work that G-spot over and over until I feel her muscles contract over my tongue like it’s a mouth sucking a dick. I feel another gush of fluid and this time she shrieks. She is panting for me to stop, but I want to see if she can do it again. Deeper and deeper my tongue searches her cave, looking for all the spots where she has hidden treasure. Her breathing is getting faster now, and I see her chest heaving up and down as she is losing control of her rhythm once again. I feel my chin become cleansed with her fluid and I pull back a little – just enough to see her asshole is literally coated with her pussy juice. I start licking her there, and she responds by grabbing her ass cheeks and spreading them apart. My tongue moves across her hole, and once I feel it’s lubricated enough, I slowly push my way inside. She starts rubbing her clit, and I can still feel her pussy juice running out onto my tongue. I insert my middle finger of my left hand, and begin finger fucking her. I’m excited at the sensation of my finger inside her pussy while my tongue is inside her ass. I feel her tense her muscles over my tongue, and I pay extra attention to her spongy spot inside her pussy. She is moving her hips in a way to let me know she likes what I’m doing. Her movements get faster, and she starts panting out loud, “You’re tearing this pussy and ass up, ain’t you?”

I don’t answer her verbally, but instead respond with more frantic movements of my tongue and finger. I feel and hear a large rumble in her groin area, it sounds like a volcano getting ready to erupt, and yet another rush of fluid comes rushing forth. She collapses her body, and her leg slides to the floor. She’s telling me she’s had enough. “Not bad for a rookie,” she smiles. She yanks off my pink wristband, and says that I’m no longer a virgin. “Congratulations…you passed the test.” She dresses herself and exits the stall. I wipe myself off and see an attendant with a basket of goodies. I take out a toothbrush and toothpaste and begin to brush my teeth. Although I wish I could savor Denise’s taste forever, I know it’d be too hard to explain to you, so I make sure to drop some change in the attendant’s cup. Next to her is a hamper basket, so I drop the drenched towels in there. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones in there getting our freak on, but I was so wrapped up in Denise that I was oblivious to any other sounds around us. I left the bathroom and hoped that you would not be mad since I seemed to have forgotten all about you. You ask me if I’m okay, and I smile a big cheesy grin.

“I’m feeling much sssssooooooo much better now,” is all I can say. Moments later, Denise walks by our table and drops her panties and a phone number on the table. “Call me, Sunshine. I’d like to get together again real soon.” And she rubs her clit as if to silence the fire leftover from our session in the bathroom.

You look at me and ask, “Again? You know that woman?” I began to ponder the proper response to your question, but an exotic looking Latina who happens to be wearing a pink wristband interrupts my thoughts. I watch her chug her drink and then place her hands on the table to steady herself. My eyes follow her across the room as she heads toward the bathroom. I excuse myself and head toward the ladies room, telling you I need to powder my nose (except you don’t know what I have in mind…).

Thank goodness for the three-drink minimum. It could at least come with a warning, however. By the time the third drink of bomb-ass pussy seeps into your bloodstream, you lose all inhibitions, and become willing, ready and able to do anything. I enter the bathroom and see the beautiful Latina perched over the edge of the sink, trying to cool her face off. I walk up behind her, but pretend that I’m fixing my hair. My hips touch her ass, and as she stands up, her gaze meets mine in the mirror. She turns on the faucet, and accidentally soaks her skirt with the water. I grin as a feeling of déjà vu sweeps over me – “Here, let me help you with that,” and I lead her to an empty stall…

The End

Copyright © 2002. Used by permission of author. All Rights Reserved.