Best Black Women's Erotica (11 page)

“Jane Tooyu. That's lovely, too. Is that Asian or what?” That was too much for Sara.

“Do you mind, we're waiting for our big, football-playing husbands,” Sara said, trying to end the torture.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Very sorry. I should have known two foxes like you weren't available.” He walked over to the very next single woman sitting at the bar.

“Maybe we need to find a new watering hole,” Carolyn said, turning back toward Sara, “Mrs. Tooyu.”

Just then, Sara spotted two guys who ran with one of her ex-boyfriends. Well, ex-boyfriend was stretching it—ex–bed partner was more accurate. She quickly scanned the place to see if he was there, too. But they seemed to be a duo tonight. Either they had seen her and waited for her to see them or had noticed her at the same time. They headed her way.

Sara nudged Carolyn discreetly. “Mmmm,” Carolyn said when she saw the two. Ahmed and Peter weren't what you'd call fine, exactly. Ahmed was the more handsome of the two—taller, with a nice build. Peter was shorter and muscular, moving toward chunky. They weren't fine, but they knew how to dress—finely textured shirts and tailored slacks. They were smooth.

“Mmmm,” Carolyn repeated.

“I know them,” Sara cautioned, “and as far as I know, they like white girls—young white girls.”

“Well, maybe they have a taste for some chocolate and taffy tonight,” Carolyn said.

Ahmed and Peter gave Sara a warm hug. “It's been a long time,” Peter said, lingering in the hug a little longer than Sara had expected. The scent of his cologne drifted up from her chest into her nose. It was fresh and spicy. She liked it.

Sara introduced Carolyn, who held her hand out to shake Ahmed's hand. He took it and put his other hand over it, squeezing it gently. The evening had new promise.

“So what have you been up to since our paths last crossed?” Peter asked Sara. It was a straightforward question, but something about the way he said it made it deliciously suggestive. Sara imagined herself lying on her back at a crossroads, naked, her legs open. The earth was soft and she could feel the sun on her crotch, the rays lapping at her vulva, warming her lips, and gently encouraging her legs to open. She thrust her hips up rhythmically, fucking the sun's warmth.

Whoa. Where in the world did that come from? Sara felt a slight twinge down below. A little wake-up call. Hello, I'm here. When was the last time you got some good loving? She looked at Peter and remembered when they had first met. It was at a house party. They had danced together for maybe three songs before she'd met his friend whom she later started dating—or fucking. Peter was a fun dancer and there had been
a strong attraction between them. The idea had crossed her mind more than once: what if they had started seeing each other? Tonight wasn't the first time she'd wondered if he fucked like he danced.

The conversation moved easily among the four, and then between the two they recognized as couples, and back to the four. It wasn't the deepest discussion Sara had ever had, it wasn't Baldwin or Ellison, but it was pleasant, light and frothy like the ice-cream sodas she had recently discovered a taste for.

“Do you think Prince is gay?” Peter asked.

“I don't care,” Carolyn jumped in. “He is a bad little somebody. If he's gay, he sure knows how to get a woman's juices flowing.”

Sara looked at Carolyn's glass. That last comment approached the raunchy. There was no more Kir in her glass. Sara saw Ahmed motion to the bartender for another one.

“Oh, really,” Ahmed said. “Would that be orange juice or apple?” They all laughed, but Sara thought she should redirect the conversation before Carolyn took herself farther down the road of raunch.

“It is interesting how he makes androgyny so appealing,” she said.

Carolyn wrinkled her nose, thinking, “Now we're going to have a dissertation on androgyny.” Sometimes Sara could mess up a dream that was just about to get wet.

“Androgyny turns you on?” Peter asked.

“Well, I mean I think he has that effect generally.” Sara backed up a little in the face of Peter's directness. But she didn't want to sound like she was dodging his question, either. “Yes, I guess it does turn me on in some way,” she said.

“What about it has that effect?” Peter pressed. He leaned in a tad closer to Sara and she got another whiff of his cologne.

“I don't know. I never thought about it. Let me think.” Sara envisioned Prince with his eyes exotically lined in dark eyeliner, and the way he danced, kind of squirmy but with serious funk. She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

“A penny—or more—for your thoughts. What made you smile so yummily?” Peter asked.

“I was thinking of how Prince moves,” Sara replied.

“You mean like this?” Peter did a perfect imitation of Prince. Sara realized it was that same quality that had attracted her to Peter's dancing. He had that androgynous hit himself.

“Say, you want to go someplace and dance later?” asked Ahmed.

“Sure. Let's do it and get the juices flowing,” Carolyn said.

They decided to order one more round. Carolyn excused herself and got up to go to the bathroom. She gave Sara an intent look that said “Come with me.”

“Oh, me too,” Sara said. Carolyn wondered how Sara had managed to grow up Black and female and not realize that women always go to the bathroom together. Carolyn peed for a long time. Sara was already at the sink washing her hands when the toilet flushed.

“Well, I think I might do this guy,” Carolyn said, still getting herself together in the stall.

“Oh, really. That's a shock,” Sara said.

“Why so sarcastic, Sister Sara? Why not? The brother is smooth, nice-looking, and I'm assuming because you know him that he's not some kind of sadistic psycho. Besides, I'm horny as hell.”

“He's not a psycho, at least not that I know of. But from what I do know about blood, a condom is definite requisite.”

“Bien sur.” Carolyn always used French phrases when she was tipsy. With her index and middle fingers, she flipped a telltale small, square package out of her handbag a little too hard. The condom pack flew into the sink.

“Are you sure you haven't had a little too much to drink?”

“No. And so what? What is ‘a little too much to drink'?”

“Well, maybe that's why you're so anxious to drop your drawers.”

Sara and Carolyn were standing right next to each other, but they didn't look at each other; they talked to their reflections in the mirror.

“And so what if I am? I wish you'd get off your mother-superior trip. Of course I want to fuck him because I'm a little tipsy. Why do you think I got a little tipsy?”

Sara knew she sometimes seemed square to her friend, but Carolyn's comment stung. Carolyn could see she'd been too sharp.

“Oh, come on, Auntie Harriet. You know that's why I keep you around. To control my wild ass. If it weren't for you, I might be swinging from a chandelier buck naked.” Carolyn pulled her friend to her in a big hug. Sara accepted the apology. They retouched their lipstick and Carolyn put another layer of mascara on her long, sweeping lashes.

“They're probably talking about the same thing,” Sara laughed.

“Probably,” Carolyn agreed.

“So if you want to do Ahmed, what are Peter and I supposed to do?” Sara asked with exaggerated innocence.

Carolyn turned away from the mirror toward her friend. “Well, now, the way Mr. Androgynous was all up on your ass, you might just think of doing the same thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Girl, I saw that little routine. ‘Do you think Prince is gay? Does androgyny turn you on?' I saw your little hiney squirming around on that barstool,” Carolyn laughed. “If I didn't want to do Ahmed, I might be interested in a little Adventure in Androgyny my damn self. If you weren't interested, that is.”

“Maybe next time,” Sara said as she pushed open the bathroom door.

“So, did you two have a nice chat?” Peter asked. “Or exactly what is it you ladies do in the bathroom together for so long?” He widened his eyes.

“Nothing, talk, what do you mean?” Sara asked. She squeezed between him and the stool to sit down. He didn't move to give her any room and her right breast brushed against him.

“Mmmm,” Peter said. “Can I come next time?” Obviously, the two guys had the same conversation and Peter was the one designated to push the topic—the designated dick, if you will. Sara liked it. It kept that little twinge going that had started with her sun-fucking fantasy. When was the last time she had gotten some good love? She let him lean into her body as she sat on the stool, his crotch pressing perceptibly against her. She could feel his dick thickening on her hip and she leaned in ever so slightly, putting more pressure on his dick. It responded accordingly. Her boldness almost made her giggle.

The foursome continued their conversation, moving ever so subtly against each other. Sara opened her legs a little and arched her back, pushing down so she could feel the wood of the barstool against her pussy. Whenever she adjusted her body or reached for her drink, she rubbed down into the stool. Her panties were getting moist. The fact that she had to curb her movements and rub only periodically made it that much hotter. Peter and Sara didn't look at each other while he fucked her hip and she fucked the stool.

Sara was completely absorbed in their little barstool dance. She didn't know what she was saying and she didn't know what anyone else was saying, either. She tried to fake participation in the conversation by occasionally saying “yes.” But she had no idea what she was saying yes to. Carolyn and
Ahmed might have said, “Are you an ignorant slut?” and she would've given a little distracted smile and said, “Yes.” She could tell Peter was amused by it all.

It was so delicious, she couldn't stand it. “Excuse me,” she said, sliding off the stool to get another rub of the coochie and another push on his dick. She couldn't wait for any girlie bonding trip to the bathroom; she didn't even take her purse. She walked quickly to the bathroom and went into the last stall. She leaned into the corner, lifted her skirt, and pulled her panties up between her buttocks, and hard against her vulva. She began rubbing her pussy with one hand while tugging on her panties with the other. It didn't even take thirty seconds for her to come. She leaned against the wall and caught her breath, slowly pulling her panties out of her cracks. “Whew, that was good,” she said out loud. She decided not to wipe herself; she wanted to sit in the come juice and let it ripen into a nice rich pussy funk that might get licked off later if things continued to progress. She flushed the toilet, smoothed her skirt, and walked back out to the bar.

“Everything come okay?” Peter asked as she climbed back on the stool. He leaned into her hip and his dick was thick and rock hard. She looked down and it was quite visible between his legs.

“Oh, yes, everything is so satisfying,” she said. She picked up her drink and took a sip. It had gotten a little watery.

“Shall we order another round or head out to the dance floor?” asked Ahmed. Sara had almost forgotten about them.

“I'm ready to party,” Carolyn said.

“Me, too,” agreed Peter, looking at Sara and meaning something other than dancing.

They decided to skip the additional round. Peter suggested they ride as couples and Sara imagined herself driving with his hand in her lap, squeezing her vulva, rubbing, slipping his hand under her skirt and pushing his finger into her hole through her panties.

“Why don't we follow you two?” Carolyn said to Peter and Ahmed.

They left Sara's car in the parking lot and rode in Carolyn's car. “So what was going on on your side of the bar?” Carolyn asked before they even got out of the parking lot. “I could feel the heat and see the steam coming up from your seat. What was blood doing, fucking you with his eyes?”

Sara laughed. She had guessed it might be obvious how turned on she was.

“It's pretty hot. I don't know, something about the way he moves, even when he's just standing there, makes me squirm.”

“Are you sure you never fucked him before?”

Sara nodded her head.

“Ever thought about it?”

“I guess I have in a vague, undefined sort of way.”

“Hmmm. Interesting…” Carolyn looked sideways at her friend. “And the boy doesn't even speak Baldwin.” They laughed.

Ahmed was driving. He pulled over to the curb and Carolyn followed suit. Ahmed got out of his car and approached Carolyn.

“You know, I need to make a quick stop off at my house. These shoes are killing my feet. You could meet us at the club, but I'm afraid you'd get swooped up before we could get there. How about following me while I stop off to make a quick change?”

Sara and Carolyn looked at each other. “Very smooth,” Carolyn said. “Well, what do you think? You feel okay with that?”

“I know these guys well enough to know there's nothing to worry about. Although you do know they have no intention of going to the club.”

“Yes, I do. But then maybe we don't either.” Carolyn leaned her head out the window. “Okay, we're right behind you.”

They got to Ahmed's house and he, of course, invited them in for a drink. And, of course, they accepted. After pouring their drinks, Ahmed went back in the bedroom to find his “dancing shoes.” He came back out in his stocking feet.

“Those are your dancing shoes?” Carolyn laughed.

“No. I can't seem to find them.” He sat down next to her on the couch. “Let me think a minute,” he said slipping his feet under Carolyn's crossed ankles.