No sooner had Laura returned home from Charlotte than Makeeda got a call from her agent.  Due to illness a famous jazz artist had canceled a club date in New York City and they were seeking to plug in Makeeda and a jazz trio as a substitute for two weeks. 

"Oh my god!" Makeeda gasped into the phone.  Laura thought her darling was going to faint.  "Oh my god," Makeeda repeated.

At first, after the initial jolt of excitement, Laura could see she was going to beg off.  Even though her career had lately burgeoned and thrived, being a jazz/cabaret singer was never going to make you rich.  She would have to pay her expenses to and from and while in New York, and she had little money.

"My treat," Laura whispered, before Makeeda could hang up.  "I'm going with you.  And I'll pay."

Makeeda covered the phone mouthpiece with one hand.  "I can't let you do that."

"You can too.  I insist.  I need a vacation.  I can stay for . . ."  She thought, then counted on her fingers.  ". . . three days.  Maybe four.  Then I'll have to come back.  We have to get someone to feed Mingus and Monk [they had got another cat; 'two old married lesbians with their cats,' Laura had thought with mock dismay] while we're gone. Settled."  She pointed peremptorily to the phone in Makeeda's hand.  "Tell her.  Find out when you have to be there."

Makeeda obeyed slowly, as if sleep-walking.  She stared at Laura in disbelief the whole time she was assuring her agent that she would be in Manhattan the following day by three p.m. for a brief rehearsal before her first appearance in the club that night.

"You can't be serious," Makeeda had said in shock, looking a little ashen as she put down the phone.

"I am perfectly serious," Laura said.  "Come here and let me show you how serious I am."

She covered Makeeda's face with kisses, and since they had not yet made love since her return—though Laura felt a little guilty for having exhausted herself in fucking Randi during that absence—they immediately fell on Laura's huge bed and devoured one another.

The following day in New York, since hotel prices were astronomical and Makeeda, at least, would be staying for two weeks, they checked into an older, cheaper hotel on Seventh Avenue in midtown, a third-tier hotel which Laura could almost afford.  She had succeeded in wheedling five days off from her job.  Makeeda had to start rehearsals immediately, so that she and her ad hoc trio could get accustomed to each other and cobble together some quick repertoire.  Laura, preferring not to sit there and make Makeeda uncomfortable, spent the afternoon at the Museum of Modern Art.

The jazz club was a place called Freddie's, on East 27^th Street, and Makeeda did two sets, one at nine, another at eleven.  It was a small place, seating perhaps seventy to eighty people tops, but though she opened on a Thursday night, there were only five people in the audience, not counting Laura, for the first set, and six or seven different people for the eleven o'clock set.  Laura knew Makeeda was a little depressed by the sparse crowd, but in her slow career rise she had played to small crowds before, and at least the people who were there were very attentive and enthusiastic, as well as liberal with their applause.

Nevertheless, as they rode in a cab back to the hotel, Laura could sense a very dismal mood growing and simmering and blackening inside Makeeda, who was glum and did not want to talk.  Laura forced her to stop in the hotel bar for a nightcap.  "It'll help you sleep.  You've had an exhausting day."

Makeeda nodded.  She spoke little.  Laura tried to coax her feelings out of her.  Makeeda snapped at her.

In their hotel room, Laura tried to embrace her.  "How about a little loving to make you feel better?"

But Makeeda did not allow herself to be embraced.  Laura had seen a few of these moods before and decided to let well enough alone.  "How do you feel, paying for all this, for ten or twelve people?" Makeeda suddenly snarled.  "In a city of eight million people, I can draw a dozen?  Wow, some singer!  Twelve people."

"It's a Thursday night," Laura said, lamely.  "Maybe Freddie's didn't do a very good job of getting the word out."

"Isn't this the city that never sleeps?  Isn't it supposed to be: If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere?"  Her face fell.  "Guess I can't make it anywhere."

"Do I detect a note of self-pity?" Laura teased, trying to cheer her up.  "I never knew you to let it get you down before, when there are only a few people.  Remember?  The Happy Few?  Didn't we call them that?"

Makeeda looked at her sourly.  And yet, to her chagrin, Laura could feel an overwhelming wave of sexual desire flooding her own body at that moment.  Something about Makeeda being this depressed, this vulnerable, made her wildly desirable to Laura, who wanted to tear off her clothes and feast on her perfect naked body until Makeeda succumbed to one of her 'Oh god, I'm dying' orgasms, the kind that seemed to leave her in a near-death state for several frightening minutes.  If you have an orgasm like that, my darling, you'll forget all about tonight's trivial disappointments.  Let me fuck you and make you come and tomorrow night they'll be fighting to get into Freddie's.

Makeeda saw Laura's look.  They were by now, Laura knew, very transparent to each other.  Neither could disguise her lust, when it came on suddenly like this.  They were combustible, they yearned for each other, though sometimes not in synch, as now.  "Forget it," Makeeda whispered, managing a half-smile.  "I'm exhausted."

"I know."  Laura smiled understandingly.  "Beddie bye.  I'll tuck you in."

Listlessly, Makeeda slipped into her nightgown and got into bed.  Laura went into the small bathroom so she wouldn't have to watch and become inflamed by this woman's incredible naked body which, even after nearly a year, she could not train herself to ignore.  Then, she switched off the light, slipped into her own half-nightie, and climbed into bed next to Makeeda.  She leaned over and kissed her shoulder, which was bare since Makeeda's nightgown had spaghetti straps.

"I love you," she murmured, but Makeeda was already asleep.

Outside the window, though it was past midnight, New York continued to roar and rumble, honk and screech.  It was a constant, never-ending rush, this town.  It got into your blood.  You wanted to rumble and froth too, just like it was doing outside the window.  Laura found it hard to sleep, but soon the vodka tonic she had drunk in the bar downstairs while trying to get Makeeda to relax ended up relaxing her, and she slept without knowing it. 

She came awake—she hadn't the slightest idea what time it was—to the feel of Makeeda's warm, hard, naked body pressing urgently against hers.  Makeeda had done this before, several times in the brief history of their relationship: coming alive in the middle of the night, out of nowhere almost, to announce her raw, physical need by swarming over Laura, setting her flesh on fire out of a sound sleep.  Laura had never known anyone, of all the women she had had by now, who had done this.

Her response, as soon as she came awake, was pure, though a little groggy, delight.  Even though Makeeda was being a little rough, even ripping Laura's nightie in her haste and urgency, tearing away at her own and crushing her hard, sleek flesh into Laura's body, there wasn't a single thing about it that Laura would not want to feel.

"Oh god . . . yes!" she gasped into Makeeda's shoulder, then almost gagged on her own breath as she felt Makeeda's lips tearing at one of her nipples, then felt it apparently going down Makeeda's throat.  "Unhh!  Owwnncchh!  Oh!"

Makeeda knew she had hurt Laura and quickly eased up, letting Laura's pinched, wet nipple slide back out of her mouth, but this brief accident did not for a second diminish the force of her hunger.  "I love you . . . you are everything to me!" she half-growled—her voice low and muffled and nearly incoherent, but somehow also plaintive and sad—into Laura's body, into her breasts, as her lips sought Laura's other nipple and this time sucked and mauled it a little less viciously.

"Oh!  Ohhhhh!" Laura moaned, twisting and exulting at this fierce onslaught. 

The room was dark but enough light filtered in from outside for her to see Makeeda's beautiful dark body gleaming as she lifted her nightgown over her head and extricated Laura from what was left of hers.  Meanwhile, incredible New York City roared and pulsed and seethed outside the window in the dark.  Laura's hands ran up Makeeda's marvelous body to her perfect breasts, squeezing them hungrily, her fingers twisting Makeeda's swollen black nipples, which were also gleaming in the half-light.

But Makeeda was having none of it; she was in charge and quickly swarmed over Laura's now-naked body once again.  For Laura there was the added thrill of being irresistibly devoured by the woman you loved, and since was Makeeda was strong and willful, she could do nothing but give in.  And she wanted to give in. 

"Yes!" she gasped.  "I love you too.  You know I do."

Makeeda was already scissoring Laura's pelvis with her legs and pushing her own pussy into Laura's, pumping and fucking her almost violently, grinding and pumping in a fierce, rocking rhythm, looming over her in a cowgirl position, looking down, grasping Laura's swirling naked breasts in both hands and twisting and squeezing them roughly.  This was not to be a gentle, sensual bit of love-making.  It was rough and demanding and sharp and searing.  Makeeda leaned down and sucked Laura's neck, and bit her shoulder, and her mouth again tore at Laura's nipples.  For a long time there was no sound in the hotel room but their hot, feverish panting.

Then she was sitting up again, pumping, grinding, fucking Laura more urgently, more frantically, gyrating her own strong pelvis into Laura's, mashing her cunt into Laura's, her breath ragged and her marvelous hazel eyes glowing like a cat's in the semi-darkness.  They fucked like this, trib fashion, quite rarely, and almost never with Makeeda on top, in a sitting up position, except when she wanted for some reason to dominate and half-rape Laura, as she was now doing.  It was not exactly contrary to her nature, but usually she was content to be adored and ravished, not the other way around.  Yet each time this happened Laura was flummoxed and wildly aroused by the thrill of it, and this time was no exception.

"Unh!  Oh . . . unh!  Unngghhmmnngguunngghh!" she grunted softly as Makeeda's pelvic thrusts raised her own lower body off the bed with their compact force.

Again she let her hands run up Makeeda's marvelous naked body, touching the hard muscles of her midriff, clutching her firm, swaying breasts, holding them in both hands and gazing deep into Makeeda's glowing eyes, even though they could only barely see one another in the semi-darkness.  Makeeda's breath was rough and irregular, and she was increasing the tempo, throwing her head back and lunging forward, fucking Laura faster now, either knowing that Laura was going to come soon, or because she was going to come herself. 

Laura squeezed her breasts and tried to pull her down closer.  "Kiss . . . me . . . honey . . . kiss . . . me . . ." she gasped between each sharp thrust of Makeeda's hips, feeling her pussy throb and tingle as her inevitable orgasm drew nearer.

Makeeda leaned down.  "Are you going to come?"

Laura nodded.  "Any second.  Kiss me and stop for a minute."

She encircled Makeeda's back with her arms, pulling her down, crushing Makeeda's firm breasts into hers, devouring her slackened mouth, forcing her to stop the fucking for a moment since it was impossible to thrust when they were this tightly embracing.  Their tongues stabbed in a delirious frenzy of sharp desire.

Then Laura's grip loosened, and Makeeda slowly pulled away, sitting halfway up again and beginning to thrust again.  "Fuck me . . . Cynthia . . . fuck me . . . Cynthia . . ." Laura panted to her, looking deep into Makeeda's almost orange cat's eyes, the normal hazel color having flared into these glowing embers.  This was a strange chant that had deep meaning for both of them, since Makeeda did not like being called by her real name but extended Laura permission from time to time since it sounded a note of intimacy between them that no one else could share.  At the same time, it made her a little angry, which Laura knew, and she began to fuck Laura more roughly because of it.

Since both were about to come anyway, this added acceleration and heat only brought them closer to the finish line.

"Fuck me . . . Cynthia . . ." Laura panted.  "Yes . . . fuck me, Cynthia!  Ungghhh!  Oh!  Yes!  Mnnngghh!"

And again Makeeda began to show some reaction too, hints that she too was going to lose control.  Her body quivered and her ragged panting became soft, plaintive moaning.  Her fingers clutched Laura's thighs, her hips, her arms, her breasts, and she pumped Laura's pussy more and more frantically with her own, until both of them were surging and straining wildly together. 

"Oh god, yes honey!" Laura cried out, feeling her climax arrive.

"Mmmnnnggeeee!" Makeeda cried out a split second after Laura, actually beating her to the finish by a hair since it was clear she had begun to come even before crying out.  Her body clenched and shuddered, and her spasming fingers almost clawed Laura's flesh.

"Auunngghhhh!" Laura groaned, coming in sharp jolts, her own body arching and bowing up from the mattress as she felt the full weight of Makeeda's delicious flesh slump onto her.  "Auunnngghhhh!"

Makeeda did not fall into one of her endless, soul-obliterating orgasms but instead remained conscious throughout, though apparently crushed and wrenched by the sweet hot spasms that kept her body twitching and jerking and quivering on top of Laura's for, it seemed, several minutes, with soft, helpless mewls escaping from her mouth.  They were completely locked together and did not move, except to breathe, during the whole time.  They did not speak.  They were deeply in love, Laura knew, but never more so than at this moment.

After another minute or two, Makeeda whispered.  "I must be crushing you to death."

"If you move, I'll kill you," Laura whispered back.

Makeeda nuzzled her neck.  "If you call me Cynthia again—"

"I'll get raped again," Laura cut across her, giggling.

"You just might," Makeeda said, tenderly kissing her forehead, then rolling to the side.

They stared up into the darkness, both on their backs, listening to the ceaseless hot throbbing of the city outside the window.  After a while, in a soft, distant, even voice, Makeeda told her that a notable jazz singer had leapt to her death from a window in this very hotel about five years earlier.  She had left a suicide note, but the contents were never revealed.  With a wry smile, Makeeda said she wondered if this singer had ever drawn a mere dozen people to one of her club dates, implying that it was reason enough for suicide.  But then she sighed and tried to smile more philosophically at Laura. 

"I never liked her singing much," she murmured, "but it's kind of a sisterhood, you know?  Thinking of it really almost sank me last night."  She reached for Laura's hand.  "If I didn't have you, I really think I would sink sometimes."

Laura knew that anything she could say at this moment would be pointless.  So she kissed Makeeda long and deep, then held her tight.  The following evening so many people were trying to get into Freddie's that the club owners scheduled three instead of two sets each night, beginning the next night.  It turned out that a columnist from a New York paper had been there, one of the Happy Few, on the first night, and had written a glowing review of Makeeda the following day. 

"See, I told you," Laura gloated to her when they returned to their hotel room.  "I told you they would get the word out and then you would be the toast of the town."

"Better than being toast," Makeeda smiled.

The hotel maids had cleaned the room and very pointedly, Laura supposed, spread out Laura's ripped nightie on the bedspread.  As if to say, 'We know what you two are doing in here.'  Laura picked it up and dangled the shreds of cloth in front of Makeeda.  "This is the third nightie of mine you've destroyed in acting out one of your rapist fantasies."

Makeeda looked a little guilty.  "Sorry.  I couldn't stop myself."

Laura dimmed the lights and crossed the room to her, taking Makeeda in her arms.  "That's okay, I'll give you about twenty years to stop it.  I guess you know that means I'll have to sleep naked from now on.  I only brought one nightie."

Makeeda kissed her neck, then sucked it passionately.  "I guess you know that means probably the same thing will happen tonight that happened last night."

 

 

 

Laura flew back on Sunday night, leaving Makeeda to enjoy her triumphant conquest of New York for another week.  On Monday morning, though groggy and tired, she was back in the office.  It was not until the afternoon that she remembered Bonnie, the girl downstairs in the alley sandwich shop, and the little 'date' they had made to browse the new Bloomie's, which Laura had shamefully reneged on, without even giving Bonnie a warning. 

She felt enormously guilty and vowed to go down and apologize immediately.  But before she could break free, she got a call from Shelley, the hot Macy's underwear model she had been seeing on and off now for about two months. 

"Oh god, Laura, Margaret's coming home from Paris," Shelley said, in an ambiguous panic, either very upset or very excited by this news, or perhaps both.

"You don't sound too pleased," Laura observed calmly.

"Oh, I am.  You know how I love Margaret."  Laura did know this.  Shelley genuinely loved Margaret.  "But it means I can't see you as often.  Can you come over now?  God, as soon as I got the news from her, I realized I was so horny for you I couldn't sit still."

This was the kind of news that could only make one smile, Laura realized.  Bonnie would have to wait.  "I have to stay until six.  Can you sit still until then?"

Shelley pouted fetchingly over the phone.  "I'll try.  Want me to pick you up?"

"You don't live more than four blocks from here, darling," Laura said. 

"I know, but they're long blocks."

"I'll walk.  Good for my legs.  You know, a guy I once knew said all the girls in Paris have great legs.  From all that walking they do.  So, how am I to compete with Margaret if I don't walk to give shape to my legs?"

"You don't have to compete with Margaret," Shelley said in a low, smoky, sensual voice.  "She's number one, and you're off the charts."

  This compliment was enough to make Laura's day, and she nearly whistled aloud while making the brief walk after work to Shelley's apartment building, one of those glass and steel highrises adjacent to the Moscone Center.  Shelley, who had had time to prepare, greeted Laura at the door wearing a wispy orange bikini, and was barely able to keep a straight face as Laura took in the sight hungrily.

"You just lounge around the place in a bikini most of the time?" Laura quipped as she stepped inside.

"Only when I know someone is coming who I want to ensnare," Shelley snarled playfully.

Laura, standing just inside the door to Shelley's apartment, having gone no further, was nearly paralyzed with lust.  This was a stunning girl, with a stunning body.  And most of it was clearly visible.  Furthermore, Shelley, a professional model, knew just how to turn and pivot and walk and pose to make it even more wildly desirable.  She displayed a little of this skilled repertoire for Laura as Laura followed her into the apartment.

Laura was hypnotized.  Shelley was not very dark, though not really light-skinned either, not like Shontay, for example; instead a wonderful warm brown, even light enough to develop tan lines, which she got from sun-bathing on the small deck of the apartment.  Laura found them wildly sexy.  The bikini was actually four triangular patches of orange cloth, two for her full breasts, two more for her pubis and her bottom, attached by a thong that ran through her crotch.  Lucky thong, Laura thought. 

When it came off, there were triangular patches of lighter brown skin, as well as thin lines where the white straps had been running up her shoulders or around her hips.  The paler ghosts of the bikini's presence on her marvelous body.  Laura had seen the patches, the tan lines, in the past, but never the actual bikini. 

"So this is how you get those wonderful lines on your wonderful body," she said to Shelley as they reached the living room. 

Shelley made another playful moue at Laura.  "I have to leave them on because I saw a movie once where a guy was looking from about half a mile away through this gigantic telescope at a naked girl sunbathing, and at the end of the movie he tried to kill her."

"Anyone who could kill a girl that looks like you should be locked up in a rubber room," Laura observed.

Shelley flirted.  "Why, thank you, Laura."

"When's Margaret due back?"

"Day after tomorrow.  I figure that will give me one day to get over the guilt of having you here.  So I don't, you know, make any false steps."

"I'm sure she would forgive you whatever little missteps you may have taken in her absence.  It was a long time."

"I guess you don't know Margaret.  She's the possessive type."

"How can she possess a wild creature like you?"

This, instead of cheering Shelley up, actually caused her dismay.  "Wild?  Do you think I'm wild?  Oh god!  I'm not wild.  Really.  Maybe you got that impression because I just . . . sort of came on to you at Macy's.  I'm just a scared little mouse.  I stay home alone all the time, except when you come over and we . . . do this.  I'm really not wild.  Please, Laura, say I'm not wild.  I only try to look wild.  I'm not really wild."

Laura went over and took the delicious half-naked creature in her arms, kissing her warmly.  "I only meant you're wild in bed," she soothed her.  "You are wonderful and wild to fuck.  I only meant that.  I've been lucky to know you."

Shelley had the longest braids of any woman she had ever known, and more of them.  There were literal cascades of tight, thin braids hanging nearly to her waist.  Even though Laura knew they were that long through the magic of extensions, their allure was still irresistible.  How braids like this could be so sexy she didn't know, but she had the evidence of Randi, whom she had spent exhausting hours in bed with only weeks ago (though Randi's braids were now much shorter than these), and this enchanting Shelley to prove it.

In fact, Shelley had initially, before they had met, lured Laura by the promise of allowing Laura to 'touch' her braids.  Which Laura had done, and was now doing again, for the umpteenth time. 

"You're the only woman I've ever known who uses the 'F' word," Shelley confessed softly into Laura's cheek while Laura stroked her braids and ran her fingers through them.  "Margaret would threaten to wash out my mouth with soap if I said it."  She had a thought flash.  "On second thought, that's wrong.  I did know a girl.  She rode a motorcycle and called herself a dyke.  She liked thinking of herself as a dyke.  But she was as sweet as anything in bed.  Not rough or tough at all, you know?  Sweet and tender.  But she used to say 'fuck' a lot.  More like an exclamation, though, not like you do.  Nobody ever told me they wanted to fuck me until you did."

Laura raised an eyebrow.  "But you knew they did."

Shelley smiled and tittered.  "I knew it since I was thirteen."

Laura was already busy trying to devour Shelley's marvelous body and smooth skin, so much of which was available.  Her mouth was already descending to the valley between Shelley's wonderful breasts, her tongue pausing to lick sensually the raised, shiny keloid scar, the size of a quarter, below Shelley's left collar bone. 

Shelley was built like a more curvaceous version of Laura herself, fairly tall and willowy, but with much more substantial breasts and bottom, and a tiny waist that threw it all into marvelous shape.  Laura had feasted on this rare body frequently in the past few months and now realized, with a sharp little heart pang, that her feasting was about to be curtailed.  It made her briefly hate Shelley's sweetheart Margaret, whom apparently Shelley could not keep quiet about for even a few minutes.  It was Margaret this and Margaret that.  She had talked about Margaret before, but never this much.  I'm going to make you forget Margaret for an hour or two, my pet, Laura thought.

Already her lips were touching the swelling inner bulges of Shelley's fine breasts where they pushed out beyond the cloth patches of her bikini.  "I think I want these," Laura murmured.  "I want them in my mouth."

Shelley shivered and laughed softly.  "God, you make me so wet, the way you talk to me.  I don't know whether I can live without you, Laura, when Margaret comes back."

Margaret again! Laura cursed inwardly.  "You don't have to."

"What about Makira?" Shelley asked.

"Makeeda," Laura said.

"Yes.  Her.  Between her and Margaret, we'll never get to fuck."

"There you go using the 'F' word," Laura teased.  "Here, let me take this off."  Laura untied the bow where the strings of the bikini bra met behind Shelley's neck, under a long wave of thin braids.  Then she peeled the two patches of orange cloth away from Shelley's terrific, beautifully shaped breasts.  "Oh god, I love the way your tan makes them a little lighter than the rest of you."  She traced the tan line around one full, sculptured breast with her forefinger.  "They are so beautiful."

"I hope you're going to do more than just admire them," Shelley half-croaked, softly, clearly beginning to feel the effects of the simmering sexual excitement that was now surging in them both.

The first time they had fucked Laura did not recall having seen these tan lines, but over the next few months the weather had improved, and clearly Shelley had been spending more time on the deck.  Each time she had grown a little darker overall and the patches left by her bikini lighter.  It was a marvelous effect on a girl who was already dark to begin with, though not as dark as many Laura loved.  Dawn, or Carmela, for example, could never do this.  All the sunbathing in the world would not leave them with tan lines, their skin was so richly and vibrantly dark to start with.  But Shelley was just brown enough for some parts to be light brown and the rest dark brown, and the effect was amazingly sexy on her.

Laura cradled one perfect breast in both of her hands, like a precious object, which it certainly was, and began to lower her lips to Shelley's big nipple, a jutting, thick center stub surrounded by a wide circle of caramel areola, already showing little bumps from her sexual arousal.  But Shelley stopped her.  With a cute, self-satisfied smirk, she lifted Laura's face back up with two fingers under Laura's chin.

"Not so fast," she panted, her dark eyes pulsing. 

"Why not?"

"Because I said so," Shelley smiled, beckoning with her finger.  "Come with me."

 Since it was evening and late fall, the sun was already down and the twilight outside was quickly deepening.  In her bedroom—again, as always, they passed Margaret's on the way, though this time the door was pulled almost closed so that Laura could not peep inside—Shelley had lit three fat candles and placed them strategically, so that soft light spread through the entire room.  She had pulled the bed coverings completely down to the bottom, exposing nothing but white sheet.  Laura could feel her own flesh tingling.  Shelley's marvelous naked brown body looked delicious against this white sheet.   She could hardly wait to see it that way again, moments from now.

On the pillow was a black strap-on dildo and a red buckling harness, lying there like . . . what?  A bomb waiting to go off?  An invitation?  There was no way one's eye would not be drawn immediately to them.  The black dildo, Laura saw with a quick glance, was not a long, ridged one like her own, but shorter and thick, shaped more like an actual penis, an average sized one, though maybe a little fatter than a real one. 

"Oh goodness, what have we here?" she exclaimed softly, walking over to it and touching it gingerly with one long forefinger.

She and Shelley, though they had been fucking on and off for two months now, had never yet used a toy.  And, unlike Laura's experience with some other lovers, it had not been from scruple or shyness, but only, she supposed, lack of interest.  They had been so busily consuming each other's body that the thought of other ways to fuck had never occurred to them.  Until now.

And Shelley, very cute, Laura thought, seemed about to blush.  "Can I tell you something?"  She was especially fetching since she was standing there with her luscious, perfectly upswept breasts exposed, the bikini top hanging down loosely by its bottom string only.

"Please do," Laura smiled, as if to show her that the idea of some hot rollicking sex with the strap-on was perfectly welcome to her.

"I love being fucked from behind."

Laura raised an eyebrow and waggled her finger in front of Shelley's face.  "There you go using the 'F' word again.  What am I going to do with you?  I seem to be a bad influence.  What will Margaret think?"

Shelley gave her an alluring half-smile.  She moved her shoulders so that her delicious naked breasts, which she knew Laura to adore and hunger for endlessly, shimmied and quivered.  "I was too embarrassed to tell you before.  It seemed so . . . selfish."

Laura went over to her and again filled both hands this time with the warm brown globes of Shelley's scrumptious breasts.  "Darling, if you let me suck these paragons of beauty, I will fuck you any way you require until the sun comes up.  And no one will ever know but you and me."

Shelley looked down at Laura's hands holding her breasts.  "What's a paragon?"

"Ummmm, something nothing else can equal," Laura murmured, nuzzling her long smooth brown neck, then raising her lips to Shelley's earlobe, licking it, sucking it, then nipping it gently.  "How about it?  Deal?"

Shelley's face broke into a smile.  "Deal," she whispered.  "Only . . . take these off," she plucked at Laura's clothes with her fingers.  "Promise me you won't get carried away.  Like, we'll do that first.  I've been dreaming of it for days."

"You mean you don't want me to simply smother you with passion, the way I usually do?  Rape you, and fuck you madly?" Laura asked as she quickly tore out of her clothes. 

Shelley removed the bottom half of her bikini with tantalizing slowness.  There were enchanting tan lines also around her pelvis.  "You can smother me all you want . . . as long as you . . . you know, do me that way.  I can come really hard that way."

"I wish you had told me before, my darling," Laura said, reaching for the red buckling harness.  "There's nothing I like more than making my darling Shelley come hard.  I want her to come so hard she'll never forget me."

"Fat chance of that happening," Shelley said, sidling up to Laura just as Laura discarded her last piece of clothing and pushing her naked body into her.  "I could never forget you."

The time for talking was finished, at least for the moment.  They fell together on the exposed sheet and began kissing and rubbing their bodies together happily, gurgling and cooing, but not speaking.  Laura only had the harness about half on and had to interrupt their feverish groping and kissing long enough to sit up and maneuver it properly into place.  The fat, black, fairly short (by comparison) dildo jutted up obscenely from her groin, looking hilariously absurd but also somehow thrilling.  She knew the sight of it thrilled Shelley, who could not take her eyes off it.

Laura had known a few other women—maybe even more than a few, she reflected—who had very powerful orgasms when being taken doggy style from the rear.  She herself could not discriminate: hers were pretty much the same either way, but she had known others like Shelley who seemed to come harder that way.  If I had only known . . . she thought again, pulling the delightful, long, lissome beauty down beside her and kissing her hungrily.

"I get to suck a little first," she murmured against Shelley's smooth brown cheek.  "It really gets my engine charged up.  Then I can really ram you like you want."

Shelley laughed a full, throaty laugh.  "Promise?"

"Mmmmm, I promise," Laura half-growled, kissing her neck, her smooth shoulders, her chest, licking the little keloid scar again, then letting her lips trail down the girl's fresh young body to her marvelous naked breasts.

For the next several minutes she made love to them as they truly deserved.  She had spent, it seemed, hours in the past worshipping and adoring these marvelous upswept brown globes, and yet her hunger for them apparently never ceased.  She cradled each breast in her palms and moved her lips back and forth between them, tonguing and sucking Shelley's delectable brown nipples until they were wet and hard and jutting, the wide areolas shiny with warm spittle and covered with tiny bumps, and Shelley was whimpering and squirming.

"God, you do that so good," she gasped to Laura, watching Laura love-maul her breasts until could barely stand to have it continue and needed badly to have Laura get to the ramming.  "I need it," she whispered.  "You make me need it more than anyone I've ever known."

Even the sainted Margaret? Laura wanted to tease her, but restrained herself.  There was only so much playful taunting that could be allowed before it became pointed and meaningful instead of passionate whimsy. 

"Mmmm, then turn over and let me fuck you," Laura purred to her, sucking the stiff wet nipple that was closest to her lips harder than ever now, making little strangled yelps surface from deep in Shelley's throat.  "Let me fuck you doggy style and rip and ram you and make you scream and die with coming, my darling."

Laura knew that nasty words at this juncture would be like gasoline on Shelley's fire.  Especially for someone who was curiously observant about who used the 'F' word, these inflammatory little arrows would surely fan her flames. 

Getting into the spirit of things, Shelley stopped Laura from sucking and nearly inhaling her breast by pulling Laura's face up to hers.  "Yes!  Yes . . . I want you to fuck me!  Now!  Fuck me now, Laura!"

Laura grinned.  "Ooohhh, you make me hot!  I'm going to give it to you hard."

Shelley broke into a grin too, twisting her body around now so that she was flat on her stomach, with her delectable bottom upraised.  "I hope you will," she murmured almost demurely. 

Contemplating this splendid swelling brown ass, Laura briefly wondered if she shouldn't plow both holes now that she had the opportunity; but then reconsidered.  She and Shelley had never discussed anal sex, and that was not what she had been invited to do.  It might come later in their relationship, but not yet.  And the sight of the girl's beautiful inflamed black pussy glimmering pinkly under the swelling brown moons was enough to engage Laura's sexual interest to the fullest extent.  It was all wet and glistening and swollen, and she could hardly resist the urge to press her lips to it.

In fact, she wanted to run her mouth and hands all over Shelley's delicious body before getting down to it, but Shelley did not want to wait.  She squirmed and looked back over her shoulder at Laura.  "Hurry," she panted softly, her eyes glazing with the delirium of acute sexual need.  "Hurry, Laura."

But Laura was rarely in a hurry, and Shelley knew it.  By her seductive pleas she might get Laura to accelerate her attentions a tiny bit, and might get Laura to forego for the present her hunger for the rest of her body, but Shelley knew that Laura was not a speedy lover, and that she especially liked prolonging the arrival of the denouement. 

"All in good time, my pet," Laura purred to her, running her fingers over Shelley's taut, swelling bottom, then up her long, sinuous back.

She bent to kiss it, knowing that this exquisite delay was ramping up Shelley's need considerably.  She kissed Shelley's long, smooth back everywhere, pausing especially long at her shoulder blades, then her delicious dimpled sacrum.  The girl moaned and twisted under her lips, and Laura's fingers slid down into the crease between her round buns and into the soupy crevice of her aroused pussy.  "Oh, darling, you're so wet for Laura," she whispered.

"Oh yes!  Oh god . . . yes!" Shelley gasped, scrunching her knees forward in the sheets to raise her ass a little higher and show her pussy even better to Laura.  "Wet wet wet.  Fuck me fuck me," she giggled.  "I'm all ready."

"You sure are, my angel," Laura purred again, now maneuvering her own body between Shelley's marvelous dark brown thighs, and guiding the fat little black dildo with one hand toward the gooey, shiny, dark-pink target.

"Ummmmmmm!" Shelley let out a low, semi-guttural hum as the thick shaft slid between her well-lubricated pussy lips and into the heaven they enclosed.  "Oh Jesus!"

Laura began to rock her slowly, holding Shelley's hips and thrusting forward, then pulling slowly out, enchanted by the exquisite sight of the girl's long, svelte body now impaled on the stubby, shiny little black prong that protruded obscenely from Laura's groin and was swallowed up by Shelley's clinging cunt lips.  For a long, long time she simply rocked forward and backward like this, fucking Shelley gently and persistently with it, but not hard, or fast. 

And Shelley seemed to be enjoying it even more than Laura had expected.  She lay her cheek on the sheet and closed her eyes and moaned very softly each time the dildo penetrated her, then sighed and exhaled each time Laura pulled it back. 

"Oh god, it's heaven!" she finally gasped, her eyes fluttering open long enough for her to glance back over her shoulder again at Laura.

Their eyes locked, but neither said anything.  Their physical connection at this moment was so intense that words were unnecessary.  There were no nerve endings of hers in the dildo, Laura knew (duh), and yet it felt like an extension of her own body.  She realized this must be what men felt when they were inside you, and her closeness to Shelley at this moment was very intense, their bodies moving rhythmically in unison, rocking slowly, but also slowly building toward a more violent moment.

Laura could feel the pressure, the sexual dynamic, building.  In fact, she realized that they were now pumping and thrusting so vigorously that she had to reach down with one hand and hold the dildo to make sure it didn't slip out.  It was no more than six inches long, a normal size for a penis, even a fake one, she supposed, but now that they were huffing and chuffing and fucking more frantically, it was in danger of slipping out at any instant.  She held it and rammed Shelley's sweet pussy with it and exulted each time the girl yelped and groaned.

And Shelley did so more and more often, keening, even whinnying softly now and then as the sensations got too intense, or too piercingly acute. 

"Unnggghh . . . ommngggg . . . nngggeeeehhh!" she cried out softly, her cries sometimes swooping up suddenly from her throat, as if pushed forcibly out of her lungs by a sharp stab of nearly unbearable pleasure.

Laura realized that the girl certainly knew what turned her on and marveled that she had never mentioned it until now.  Shelley seemed to thrill and revel in this method of fucking more than she had ever done in any other mode.  She was going mildly but rapidly crazy with sexual delirium under Laura, squirming and gasping and mewling as Laura fucked her now more relentlessly and energetically, spearing her from behind with the dildo, burying it deep in Shelley's tight, clinging pussy, watching the wet black shaft go in and come out, loving the way Shelley's black cunt lips clung to it as if reluctant to let it go.

"Oh Jesus . . . oh Jesus . . . oh yes, Laura . . . oh Jesus!  Ungghhhh!  Do it hard!  Yes!  Hard! Ummnnggghh!  Nngggeeehhh!"

By now the bed was even rocking a little as Laura lunged forward and Shelley shuddered and moaned.  It was a kind of rule of thumb for Laura that when the bed began to rock, the orgasm was near.  Shelley was whooping and gurgling and gyrating her ass back into Laura's fierce forward thrusts, her face torn by sublime intimations of sexual obliteration.

"Oh god yes!  Oh god yes!" she chanted over and over again, her words interrupted only by her frantic panting and soft yelps when Laura pushed the strap-on dildo into her pussy as far as it would go.  "Ungghhh!  Ohmmnnggg . . . yes!"

Laura knew the girl was close to coming.  It was probably less than a minute away, maybe even seconds, given Shelley's contortions and grimacing and wild yelps and whinnying.  Somehow Laura wanted to feel closer to her when it arrived, and she leaned forward, pressing her body into Shelley's back, pushing her small breasts into it, and releasing the dildo from her guiding hand since now it was buried as far in Shelley's body as it would go, freeing her arms to encircle the girl from behind.  Her hands found Shelley's marvelous, beautiful breasts and squeezed them, and she began to fuck her in short, quick, powerful rabbit jabs, sucking the back of her neck and pinching Shelley's hard nipples between her fingers at the same time.

This was truly an assault, a more violent and vigorous mauling than she had been giving Shelley up to that point, and Shelley responded by undulating wildly under her and crying out with devastating and wanton passion.

"Unnnmmmggghiiieee!  Oh yes . . . oh yes!  Oh Jesus Laura you're going to make me come!  Ungghhh!  Oh!"

"Go ahead, honey," Laura panted to her, still fucking her aggressively.  "Go ahead.  Come for me, honey.  Come for me right now."

Somehow the turbulent violence and sweet, scorching passion of this moment made her want to grab a handful of Shelley's hair and jerk her head back as the girl came, just to give her the extra stab of fire through her body that she knew it would provide.  But because of Shelley's elaborate hair style, which clearly depended on extensions that brought the zillions of long, thin braids down to her ass, Laura was afraid to try it.  Shelley's long braids lay tangled and coiled like beds of writhing snakes all around them as they groaned and panted through the last, sizzling moments of this scalding union, until Shelley suddenly did begin to come, howling in great cries of fierce ecstasy.

"Auunngghhhh!" she suddenly groaned, and her long, svelte body tried to jackknife in a sharp spasm under Laura, but Laura's weight on top of her made it impossible.  "Owwnnnggghhhhnnggiieeee!" she cried out again, now twisting and squirming under Laura as the jolts of a powerful orgasm wrenched her.

Laura belatedly realized that she was somewhat selfishly smothering the full power of this climax by restraining Shelley's natural movements, and she quickly raised herself up to give the girl more freedom.  At the same time, she renewed her vigorous thrusting, punching the fat little dildo into Shelley's spasming pussy again and again, until, miracle of miracles, another sharp orgasm welled up out of nowhere and briefly throttled Shelley just as the first one was dying away.

"Ohhnnmmggghhh!  Oh shit!  Oh . . . god, Laura . . . unngggnnmmiieeee!  Oh!  Aunngghiiieee!"

This one was clearly not as powerful as the first, but coming directly on its heels it was enough to crush her with bliss.  She grimaced and gasped and slumped forward into the twisted sheets.  Laura eased up and stroked her lovely bottom with her fingers, waiting for Shelley to recover from this sweet turbulence.  Next time, darling, she thought, you should let me put it in this pretty ass.  You will come twice as hard.

But Shelley, when she finally, groggily, lifted her head up off the sheet and squinted back over her shoulder happily at Laura, seemed to be fully satiated by this thrilling little episode.  She grinned and playfully bit her full lower lip with her fine, even white teeth.  "You made me come twice," she said in a barely audible voice, as if she could scarcely believe it.  "Twice."

Laura smiled and leaned down to kiss her.  "It's not unheard of," she whispered.

"I know . . . but I never come twice.  Not at the same time.  I mean, with you . . . you know," she smiled almost demurely as Laura extracted the wet dildo and disencumbered herself of the strap-on harness.  "With you I seem to come more than I ever have with anyone else.  One time after you were here, I counted them up when you left.  Eight.  I think it was eight.  God, I've never come eight times in my life, except for that time."

"Mmmmm, then maybe today we should shoot for nine," Laura laughed softly.  "You've already got two in the bank.  That means seven more.  What fun for me."

She stroked Shelley's marvelous body and kissed her shoulder, then her neck, then her mouth.  "I think you're behind and have to catch up," Shelley murmured against Laura's lips as they kissed.  "Want me to fuck you the same way?  God, you can see it really does it for me.  I come so hard that way."

"I guess I wouldn't turn it down, if you're so inclined," Laura smiled.

Later, cuddled in the warm, flickering candlelight, after a stupendous orgasm of her own—only one, though, at this moment—Laura cradled the sweet girl in her arm and lovingly fondled one of Shelley's gorgeous breasts. 

"When Margaret comes back, we won't be able to do this," Shelley said sadly.

"We'll find a way to squeeze it in now and then."

"She never made me come eight times."

"That's not the most important thing, is it."  This was not a question.

"No," Shelley agreed.  "I didn't mean to make a big deal out of it anyway.  If I come once with her, it's enough.  I love her.  Just like you and Makira."

"Makeeda," Laura smiled.  "Yes.  Like that."

"Did you ever make her come eight times?"

Laura frowned.

"Just asking.  Don't answer, if you don't want to."

"She comes enough for eight times in just one orgasm," Laura said.  "It's scary."

Shelley lay her head on Laura's shoulder, so affectionately that Laura did feel a brief heart pang.  They really did get along well and seemed to adore each other, in spite of their more important attachments.  "All this talking is making me horny again," Shelley confessed softly.  "I think I'm about ready to have another one myself.  How about you?"

"I guess I could be talked into it," Laura smiled, rolling on to her side and embracing the lovely naked girl with fresh and exuberant lust.