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Paging Leslie Thompson

By: fanfare



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'Sorry Honey but first served, first come.'

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Authors Notes

This Story qualifies as Inter-Racial, Romantic, Erotic Couplings, Group Sex with Creampies, Humorous Innuendo. Even a hefty dose of poetically verbal BDSM and my favorite, Lesbian Action!

So...M/F. F/M, F/F, M/F/F

No adolescents were included in any possible configuration of sexual deviancy.

Just boring ol'adult stuffyness.

Nothing here for you kids to see.

Go do your homework!

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Flying Air Leslie

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Mister Leslie's Perspective

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"Paging Leslie Thompson!" 

...

"Paging Leslie Thompson!" 

...

"Will the passenger Leslie Thompson, please come to the Trans-West Airlines ticket counter. Located on the main terminal concourse."

It was the third page that got my attention since the next leg of my flight to the left coast was on Trans-West. I retrieved the powercord from the outlet and dropped it with my MBP into my backpack and dragging a small rolling suitcase behind me, headed over to the other side of the terminal where I knew the T-W counter was located.

I was happy to see that when I arrived, there was only one customer ahead of me. I had just beat out some young black woman to the line-ropes.

I turned and gave her a smug smile, she gave me a pretty pout at my lack of manners. I thought, 'Sorry Honey but first served, first come.' 

Hey, that's funny! I should remember to write that one down.

The customer ahead of me stepped aside waiting for something, while the ticket agent looked up at me and then for some reason at the woman in back of me and asked in an uncertain voice "Uhmm, Leslie Thompson?"

I stepped forward and said "Yep."

While simultaneously the woman behind, rudely pushed past me and said "That's me."

Both our heads snapped at each other and our jaws dropped. The ticket agent looked confused and stuttered as he asked "Wait, what, uhmm, which of you is Leslie Thompson?"

We both were glaring at each other as we insisted in unison "I am!" 

"Ah jeez" the airline rep moaned. "May I please see your tickets and your picture identification."

We both dug out our tickets and driver licenses and handed them over. 

The agent looked them over and saw that we were both evidently whom we were claiming to be. He motioned at the previous customer standing to the side, who had as confused a look on his face as we did.

"This gentleman needs to get to Orange County today. However we are booked solid. I was hoping that two Leslie Thompson's checked in was an entry error and that a seat would be available. Uhhm, are you two traveling together?"

We both shook our heads no.

"If one of you is willing to give up their seat to this gentleman, Trans-West will compensate you with two hundred dollars plus the next available seat on a flight to Orange County."

We both started to vehemently refuse but to make up for my poor sportsmanship rushing the line, I waved Ms Thompson to go ahead and speak first.

She murmured a grateful "Thank you." to me, then turned to the counter agent "I must be on this flight. I have an important deadline this afternoon and any further delay will cost me a substantial financial penalty."

I shrugged my shoulder and in an apologetic nod to the other customer said "Usually I would be cool with a delay, but today, I am also on a very tight schedule and absolutely need to be in Newport Beach by early this afternoon."

The ticket agent sighed, thanked us for our consideration and handed back our tickets and id's. 

"Your flight will be boarding at Gate 4, in thirty minutes. Thank you for flying Trans-West." 

As we set off to the boarding gate, I could hear the agent patiently try to explain to the visibly irate I-demands-to-be-a-passenger, that the next step will be for the boarding agent to poll the passengers waiting at the gate, to see if anyone else was willing to delay their trip.

As Miss Leslie and I walked side by side through the thin crowd around the inner security check-point, we were sneaking looks at one another. I'm 6', 180+ pounds, with long glossy dark brown hair in a stallion tail held by a leather band decorated with Navaho symbols. I have pale grey eyes. 

I am 22 years old, Welsh-English-Hillbilly ancestry. I've been reassured by several women, who were not my mother, that I am fairly good looking in a freckled/ruddy sort of way. I barely have any melanin and boy, can I sunburn!

The woman is attractive. Tall, at about 5'10", somewhere about 140/160 pounds I would guess but well distributed. She looks muscled not fat. I speculated if she was a collegiate or professional athlete. Must be close to my age, early twenties. She has orange-red amber colored eyes and the Angeleno Jolie puffy lips which I suspect were real. Her skin is a rich dark chocolate and her hair a mass of frizzy dreadlocks, a dark red/black color with copper streaks.

I have no idea if that hair color is real or not. From her shapely body and the way her grapefruit-size breasts bounced as she strode along, easily matching my stride, her tits are most definitely original equipment.

I was intending to talk to her while we are waiting in the lounge but she disappeared into the Ladies room. That seemed like a sensible preflight checklist to check off, so I went to the Gents and did a sensible thing or two myself. 

When I came out everybody was lining up to board so I rushed over to where the other Leslie was standing and rudely cut ahead of some businessman talking on his iPhone. Just my luck that's when the stampede through the loading chute began, so she couldn't hear me trying to talk to her.

When we were aboard the plane, the next pleasant surprise was that we wound up seated next to each other.

She shrugged and offhandedly said "One of the agents processing our tickets must have assumed we were a couple and seated us accordingly." 

I nodded agreement as I opened the overhead and helped my lovely doppleganger get her two bags up into the overhead with mine. I was happy that in this plane the window seats were two abreast which gave us a minimum of privacy to talk. I was very curious to learn about this other Leslie Thompson. Intending to slide in first as we began to sit, she bumped into me.

Waving her ticket at me, she said in an exasperated voice "Hey Thompson! My ticket says seat A. Pretend for a sec you're capable of being a gentleman."

My face flushed at her snide tone and I snapped back "I always reserve the window seat! Wait, let me look at these tickets... See here, A is reserved for Leslie Thompson, originating O'Hare, Chicago. Seat B is reserved for Leslie Thompson originating Kansas City. The desk clerk mixed these up when he handed our ID's back to us."

She puffed her cheeks (so cute!) to stop an angry retort, then in a sarcastic voice "Please be my guest, Mister Windy City."

In a matching tone I replied as I went ahead and took the window seat "Why thank you, Mizz Jayhawker."

Hey, she actually giggled at that, and again when I smirked at her as I lovingly ran my hands over the armrests with a haughty nose in the air. Nice to meet a pretty woman whose sense of snarky seems as well developed as mine. Then came the required yaddayadda from the pilot and a stewardess. 

As they were droning on I leaned over to my seatmate and whispered "I beg your pardon if I am being politically incorrect, but if we have to do a water landing ... I hope you are a better swimmer than I am."

She gave me a dirty look, I'm sure she's heard all the stupid jokes about "Blacks can't swim." Sitting up and provocatively projecting her Mae Wests, she punched back "Don't even think about using me as a floatation device!"

I snorted a strangled laugh loud enough that the stewardess up front gave me an evil look for ignoring her spiel. I just had to get to know this woman better so I stuck out my hand and said "Hello. WE are THE Leslie Thompson of THE Chicago of THE Illinois. WE are so pleased to meet US."

It was her turn to strangle a laugh, she gave me a sharp, analytical look as we pumped hands in the best Ministry of Silly Walks manner.

"WE are so happy to make...OUR acquaintance of THE Leslie Thompson. WE are... THE Leslie Thompson of... THE Kansas City of THE Kansas. Frightening to consider how this world is shrinking, eh what? With the booming overpopulation, now WE even have to share names."

Wow. Just wow! That she was willing to beat my stupid joke to death with her rich contralto voice left me with a raging hardon.

Luckily, Stupid Leslie was in a comfortable position,(so, whadda ya'all call your penis?) I didn't have to do an emergency adjustment. As I know from bitter experience, that particular male handicap grosses out many females. Or, gets careless men ridiculed unmercifully by the remaining women. 

I was beginning to suspect that this 'Leslie' would turn out to be one of the latter. A comedienne after my own heart.

During the takeoff I concentrated on the view out the window. Takeoffs and landings are my favorite. Looking down at the city so close below, my imagination feverishly wondering about the lives of all those people we are passing over. 

There was the thumping of the wheels being retracted, the changing tones of the engines. Then the roller-coaster feel as we started to level off. And another, distracting sound next to me, I couldn't quite hear.

I tore my gaze away from the view below to look at the other Leslie. I hate to sound racially insensitive but she had actually turned pale. 

Her white-knuckled hands clutching the armrests as her body arched against the seatbelt. Nice boobs! And prominent nipples trying to poke through her bra and blouse.

So sue me. I'm a heterosexual male of the Order Mammalia, pardon my interest.

She was cussing under her breath I think, while, yep I am racially insensitive, the white of her rolling eyes was very visible to me. 

Ohh...kay! I leaned over to her as I patted her nearest hand and said in a quiet, soothing voice "Usually I have to get a couple of drinks into a woman before she'll relax enough...to have such an orgasm."

My dark beauty turned a blank stare to me. As it sank in what I had just said in my best slimey voice, her expression snapped to anger and she snarled at me to fuck off!

But then, as she sat back and relaxed, it only took her a moment to realize that my distraction had relieved her panic attack. She glared back at my smug expression and said "Yeah, yeah, I'm scared of flying. That's why I prefer the window seat, to confront my fear head on!"

In a supercilious tone and an airy wave of a hand I replied "Oh I must disagree. People are NEVER afraid of flying. That would be a reasonable and rational phobia. After all we do not have wings and feathers. No, no...What we are really afraid of is the crashing and the burning and the dying! A totally ridiculous, unreasonable and irrational fear, of course."

Her head snapped back as I spoke and her expression was just too precious for words. She was obviously flummoxed trying to decide if I was completely insane or a bad comedian. Then she put her head up and laughed out loud until she had to dig a kleenex out of her bag to wipe the tears from her eyes and spit from her chin. I guess bad comedian won out.

The stewardess came by and I bought both of us bottles of orange juice. As we sipped at the sweet-tart drink, she asked "So, why are you aboard this three hour tour to the sunny island of walled-in, pasty white entitlement and enclaves of conservative smugery?"

"Oh trope! I have to monitor my ex-best friend's bachelor party at the VERY exclusive Newport Yacht Club this afternoon. How about yourself, Ginger?"

She didn't quite snort OJ out her nose but she had to wipe her face before replying "Well, Sea-man Gilligan..."

I harumphed at that! I ran a hand across my head and with a hoity-toity nose in the air attitude, snarked "My official job title on this voyage of discovery is Professor!"

"Yeah? Well, Professing Gilligan..." 

That got a loud guffaw out of me. 

"...I have to rush packing up and moving all my stuff from my old apartment by 6pm tonight or I'll lose my substantial deposit. I'm already a week overdue getting out. If my crap isn't moved by time the office closes, they'll charge me another month's rent and that would well and truly bite my budget sharply upon my shapely black ass."

I sympathized "The fine print in lease agreements can suck big time!"

"I let myself be panicked into rushing back home for a family emergency that turned out to be less of an emergency and more of my ditzy sister having one of her world-class tantrums over the equivalent of a broken fingernail. She is such a drama queen and our parents are always enabling her selfish behavior!" 

I gave her a moment to brood then she continued "I managed to beg a few hundred bucks out of my dad to help cover this stupid trip but it's going to be hell trying to make up for the lost time. I couldn't get a return flight before today."

"Well, the good news is, no one you care about is sick or injured or dying."

"Yeah? I guess that's a sensible way to look at it. Still pisses me off that they all expect me to drop my life into the crapper every time Sister Dearest has the vapors. That's why I had moved to California, I was hoping to finally put all that behind me."

In a skeptical tone I snorted "Uh huh?" Before amplifying my viewpoint "The problem I've experienced with putting problems behind me is they then have a sneaky habit of stabbing me in the back!"

Her expression and tone of voice switched to mischievous curiosity "So, why are you attending, uhmm monitoring, your ex-best ex-friend's ex-bachelor party?"

In a pretentiously confidential revelation, I told her "I bribed the escort firm to sneak in a different stripper of my choice, to jump out of the cake. She has an uncanny, close resemblance to my ex-fiance. And every guy at the party, not only knows Marian, but also they will all be at the wedding and afterwards attend the reception."

She snickered "Ex-fiance Marian, I take it?" 

I nodded and continued "Chet will have his first stroke when he see's a scantily clad twin of Marian, the 'Notoriously Prudish Snob', pop out of the cake."

"Oh! My! God! You are an evil man!"

"His second stroke will come when she starts to strip off what little there is to her costume. Ex-darlin' Marian never! Ever! Approved of removing her pubic hair. The stripper will leave nothing to the imagination. I have already pre-inspected and double-checked the quality of those goods. When I pay for smooth, I get smoooothed."

My seatmate was making stifled snearking noises.

"I happen to know that bald pussy is one of ex-friend Chet's most cherished not-so-secret fetishes. I smile whenever I think of the look of disappointment...Nay! Horror! On his face the first night of their honeymoon."

She was practically howling into a wad of kleenex as she gasped out "No! Please! Stop!"

"Then the peace dey NO resistance. The stripper's to yell 'Line up boys! Every man standing gets to fuck the bride! I'll take you all on three at a time!' while bumping and grinding her naked way down the tabletop. To throw herself onto a couple of the dumber football players my ex-best ex-friend likes to hang out with."

Femme Leslie groaned with practically a whole fist crammed into her mouth to stop from screaming with laughter. While tears of painful joy rolled down her cheeks. I decided to move in for full court press and put this ball through the net.

"They'll be tag teaming her in a flash DP, before ex-best Chet can react. None of those boys in that party would qualify as the brightest bulbs in the pack. 

Then she is to yell 'Chet come cram your cock down my throat!' 

Cause that's another, on the long list of ex-darlin' Marian's 'I do not approves' but it is ex-friend Chet's deepest, darkest secret, that oral is the only way a woman can get him off."

"Stop it!! You horrid man! You're making me pee myself!"

"Swish! And Scoooore!! Two points for team Windy City! Yyeeeaaahhhhhhh!"

One of the stewardesses came by to check on all the commotion I was causing. Ms Thompson took the opportunity to escape to the toilet with her large handbag.

Returning in a few minutes with her face washed and dry pantaloons, I'd predict. She started chuckling as soon as she could see my fakely doleful countenance. 

As she began to sit down, I casually asked in my best Brit BBC voice "Get your sopping knickers taken care of then, darling?"

She giggled at that, then nicely shocked me when she reached into her bag's side-pocket, pulled out her wadded up wet panties and with a defiantly superior glare, stuffed those into the large pocket of my shirt. This woman does not back down from a challenge! 

I think I'm in love. Oops, from her expression I think I said that out loud. To cover my embarrassment I joked "I wonder if the aircraft captain is authorized to marry us?"

Her head kind of twitched, then those big lips blew me a pouty kiss as she took my nearest arm into both of hers (Wow! She's got real muscles.) pressing her impressive bosom against me. 

She leaned her Lovely African face close to mine and while exhaling warmly into my ear with a tingly nibble, her sultry voice answered "The pilot had announced when we were passing over the Grand Canyon. And well, what happens in Lost Vegas stays in Lost Vegas, korije?" 

I was panting and my face must have been beet red!

She continued. "Shall we have the pilot pull over at the nearest 24 hour Wedding Chapel and pancake house for a quickie marriage? Then a quickie honeymoon here aboard the Mile-High Club? Arriving at John Wayne for a quickie divorce?"

It was my turn to laugh out loud and she briefly joined me but did not let go of my arm. Another nibble of my ear was followed by a stimulating kiss with her hot tongue licking into my ear canal, causing me to jump. Now I was all hot and bothered! 

She whispered "That's for making me drench an expensive pair of Victoria's best silk panties, you sexy bastard. Ex-darlin' Marian is an idiot!"

I tried my best to answer with a seriously straight face "Guilty as charged Your Honoress. But I must honestly confess that the idiots in this case were Me, Myself and I. Just blind stupid luck that she got greedy enough to switch horses and go after Chet and his suddenly substantial inheritance."

Twisting in my seat to put us face to face with only an inch to spare I quietly propondered outloud "Marian always refused to laugh at my jokes. All my life, I have been the class cutup and schoolyard clown and friendly practical joker. Since I met her, I can now see that I was well on my way to becoming a young old sourpuss."

With a melancholic shake of my head, I continued "I realize now that Marian has that effect on everyone around her. How sad. I feel sorry for Chet and the others and almost even feel sorry for Her. Thank you...for allowing me...to wet your panties."

I was drowning in the flare of those lovely amber eyes as she leaned forward, tilted her head and gave me a rousingly passionate kiss. Double effing wowie!

We were busy working out the best head position for lip-locking and tongue-swapping when a stewardess came by and rudely interrupted us with the trivial details of imminent reality. "Excuse me lovebirds. We are entering Orange County airspace and you will have to put your seatbelts on and your tray up."

Still kissing, I blindly waved my right hand about, found both drink containers on my tray, handed them one at a time to the Stew and then put the tray up. That was when Leslie pulled her face away with a thoughtful expression as she looked deep into my eyes. Then she shifted back into her seat, looking up at the cabin ceiling as she dabbed at her smiling lips. 


Paging Leslie Thompson



Wowie! Oh Man! I always liked that scene in the car between the Deirdre and Sam characters in the movie "Ronin"!

I'm afraid I just gaped slackjawed at her till the sudden announcement blared over the P-A made me jump. 'That we would shortly be making our final landing approach. Welcome to where-ever the hell we were. Thank you for flying what-ever airline. Yaddayadda.' 

Well, that's all I could hear with the ocean waves crashing through my ears. I choked out "Hummahhh, Leslie darling?"

"Yes, Leslie dearest."

"My ears. All I hear is the sound of ocean waves against the shoreline. If this plane does crash into the Pacific, do I NOW have your permission to use you as a flotation device?"

She choked down her laughter and in an outraged voice shot back "Miss...ter Thompson! If you make me ruin another pair of mentionables, I swear I will not forgive you!"

I feinted hopefully with "I love make-up sex." 

"You are loving with the wrong organ!" Was her swift riposte.

I groaned in frustration as I sat back and faced forward. Her right hand was clutching my left wrist as the landing gear banged down and the engines began to howl louder. 

When I felt her tension boiling up, I leaned over again and asked her "How about I contact the caterer and see if they have another cake? For you to jump out of...nude...for my private celebration of getting kicked to the curb?"

She laughed out loud as the plane bounced its way down the runway with screeching brakes and howling engines reversed. Hey, I getting pretty good at distracting her. Clever minx, she realized what I did and admitted "Damn it white boy! I'm going to have to bring you along every time I'm forced to ride in one of these infernal contraptions!"

In a smug voice I riffed "Thank you for flying Air Leslie today. Please be sure to gather all your luggage and neurosee before disembarking!"

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A Divine Evil

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As we walked off the plane I was trying to come up with a suave line that would get me her phone number but all I could think of was some more stupid jokes. And Smores are no damn good without a campfire!

'Damnit, boy!' 'Concentrate!'

Realizing that I was running out of time, I blurted out "Uhh, Mizz Thompson? Do you have transportation arranged? I had left my car here at airport parking. I could give you a lift if you need."

'Did I sound too eager there?'

We had pulled aside from the disembarking crowd, she had a frown on her face as she tried to place a call on her cell phone. 

In a distracted mutter she said "Oh, uhhm, no thanks Windy. A friend, ah neighbor is suppose to come get me. I let him use my car for the week I was gone. So he could drop me off and pick me up today. Damn it, answer your fuckin' phone, Josh!"

Getting desperate, I tried to pin her down by saying "Mizz Leslie, I gotta go change MY panties. Could you watch my rolling bag for me? I'll be back in a minute."

She looked at me vacantly as she checked her messages, nodded and waived me away with "Take more then a minute and use the extra time to wash your hands before you return, boy!"

Between her loud voice and mine, we were both getting odd looks from the crowd around us. So, I just could not resist. "Yes, Mother!" I shot back over my shoulder as I hurried to the men's room. 

The look on her face boded ill for me, 'Mother!? I will take revenge!' but I didn't have to worry because when I got back...From all the way across the noisy, crowded terminal hall, I could hear her outrage yelling into her phone.

"Ensenada?!?"

" What the fucking hell?!!"

" Are you doing!?!"

" In Ensenada!!"

"With MY car!!"

By time I reached her the crowd was giving her a respectful space and I could see a couple of the deputies on duty were looking her over, trying to decide if they should intervene. 

I nodded respectfully at them and held up a hand to acknowledge that she needed to calm down. They held back and allowed me to help her. As I stood in front of her, it looked for a second as if she was about to smash her cellphone on the floor in frustration.

That was when she snarled "That stupid dick-breath! Decided that I wasn't coming back till next week. So him and his good for nothing dopesucking buddies decided on a road trip down Baja."

I was thinking, maybe I'll have the opportunity to discover 'Can a Black Woman's face turn purple with rage?'

In a seething voice, she spat out "Cause I'm such a friggin' idiot that I wouldn't notice a coupla thousand extra miles on my odometer. Arrgghh!!"

"Hey, Mizz Thompson. Let me give you a lift home. Cheapest taxi in town!"

Shaking her head in frustration, she asked with a sour laugh "Please take me to the U-Haul on Harbor and Fairly, I have a truck reserved and I can drive it for a couple of days till that pack of dip-shits get back with my car. And thanks Mister Thompson. Oh wait! Don't you have a bachelor party to get to? Wouldn't want you to miss Chet stroking out." 

Slinging my backpack over my neck and shoulder, I grabbed her large bag and mine to prevent further argument and started walking out the terminal to the parking shuttle pickup. 

"Eh, what's family for anyway? Thompson clan solidarity forever!"

She hurried after me and over my shoulder I said 

"I wasn't actually planning on being in the same room. I had a big wad of cash I had been saving for a down payment on the McMansion Marian-the-ex-cessive expected me to buy her." 

"Bribing the escort service and finding the right stripper, then flying her in with her bulldyke girlfriend cum bodyguard and/or pimp and putting the two of them up at a hotel. Plus bribes to the caterer and the Yacht Club employees also got me several strategically placed cameras concealed in the banquet hall."

"You are definitely! An EVIL man. Mister Thompson."

"The reason I have to be in Orange County is, the cameras are WiFi and the signal is encrypted and there is only one relay available, hidden on a friend's boat temporarily docked near the yacht club. 

Technically, I could be on the other side of the planet and have the streaming download bounced to me. But there are way too many security risks going through the internet."

"Being this close I won't have to worry about any nosy parkers intercepting the streaming signal. It'll all come straight to my laptop. As much as I will enjoy this show, I really do not intend to have this plastered all over YouTube or where ever. 

This is my personal revenge and entertainment and is not intended for widely public consumption."

As we stood at the jitney stop waiting for the next shuttle, she looked up at me, I couldn't decide if her expression was awe or horror. Maybe both?

She started to say something, then stuttered into silence and thought a moment before saying in a baffled tone "Fucking flaming Figaro! I can't figure if I should worship you or run screaming over to those deputies and order them to shoot you as a public menace."

I quirked an eye at her and smirked "Mmmhhh. You may want to reconsider your options? Remember? 'Sunny island of walled-in, pasty white entitlement and enclaves of conservative smugery'?

A big bouncy lass of color such as yourself.? ... Running? ... Screaming! At two of Orange County's armed constabulary? Is liable to panic them into shooting YOU, Mizzy."

We hauled our bags onto the shuttle and sat together.

Sourly, she acknowledged my cautionary "Yeah, obviously I'm a fucking Taliban terrorist. Must be my long beard!"

Just to wind her up with a distraction from her other problems, in a lofty tone, I declaimed "It's okay though to worship me. I will deign to permit you your devoted reverence of my self-evident divine status."

She practically choked trying to laugh and reply simultaneously in an outraged voice at my outrageous claim "You are totally evil! I bow to your narcissist self-obsession. And while you have your head so far up your own ass, do you need me to hand you a flashlight so you can perform your own colonoscopy?"

With a dismissive wave of my hand and a haughty voice, I replied "No need Madeira, my dear. My divine nature makes me as shiny inside as I am shiny outside!"

She and I broke out laughing hard, totally oblivious to the sour, disapproving glares of the other shuttle passengers. It gave me a warm glow inside to know that my humor has such an appreciative and sexy-gorgeous audience.

The shuttle let us off close to my Ford Hybrid SUV and a few minutes later we were quietly accelerating onto the 405 north.

She was obviously admiring the luxurious interior. Tilting her head, she exaggerated listening to the hum of the electric motor, before snarking "Nice wheels. These electric slot-cars really are quiet."

"Slot-car! Phhph. When I need a little get up and go, the gasoline engine will automatically kick in for extra horsepower. It wasn't cheap to buy but the running costs are modest and I even got a small discount on my insurance. My previous cars were tiresomely popular among car thieves, this one less so. Not enough of them yet for there to be much of a market for stripped parts." 

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A Bouquet of Petunias

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I exited onto Harbor south and after a few minutes of stop and go traffic, we pulled into the U-Haul lot at Fairly.

I was about to get her bags out of my car, figuring I'd been helpful enough to earn her phone number when I heard her shouting. Again! This woman is never shy about expressing her opinion. I still can't decide if that's good or bad? All I know is, that for some yet to be determined reason, her bad makes me feel good.

The vocal outrage was coming from over by one of those boxy trucks with the cheesy state slogans all over them. I left her bags in my Hybrid and moseyed over to see what the problem is, that I could heroically rescue her from, this time.

The lot manager was trying to calm her down. "I'm sorry Miss Thompson but this is all we have left. It is the new semester for most of the local colleges and universities and all the automatic shift trucks are already gone."

I understood her dilemma immediately.

"I don't know how to drive a goddamn stick shift! And I have to be moved before six pm!" She wailed.

I could see this argument was going nowhere fast so I interjected "Hey Jayhawker, I got a suggestion."

"It better be better then me trying to use one of these fucking dildoe stick-shifts!"

"Hah'uhhmm yeah. Uh, I can drive the dildoe truck and you can drive my slot-car?"

The lot manager looked relieved that there was another male available to protect him from the wrath of the African valkyrie. She got a stunned look in her face. 

I couldn't resist reaching over and with one finger I pushed up her chin to close her gaping mouth.

She swatted my hand away, then took a deep breath and said in a half-angry, half-puzzled tone "Windy, you keep this up and you are going to ruin your evil reputation."

"I am divinely evil, madam. But, I will expect that when you return my car to me, that I get to watch you wash it in the skimpiest bikini you own."

The UHaul manager's face turned beet red at that and he almost dropped his clipboard.

Then Mizz Leslie gave me THAT look. You know the one. Where they toy with their hair, while doing the modestly downcast look to the side. Then up at you with those sad puppy eyes and the pouty lips. 

In her most sultry voice yet "My smallest monokini. Got it last year, in Rio de Janeiro during Mardi Gras. Though I'll need another full Brazilian to wear that in public."

She looked down at her breasts, did I say how nice they are? In a thoughtful tone while putting her hands under them to slightly shake them. Uh, I can't remember, did I mention how nice her tits are? 

With a wicked gleam in her eye she murmured "These Girls could sure use an airing out." 

'Stupid Leslie' really, really! Wants to meet 'These Girls'!

"A little sunshine, a little watering, and these melons would be ripe for plucking."

I was sweating. The lot manager was strangling himself trying not to blurt out that he would be most happy to assist with the car washing AND the plucking. 

It was getting 'hard' to keep 'up' with all her 'metaphors'. Or would these be similes? At this point, I'm an idiot to even be wondering about the difference.

Pretending to be casual, I tossed her my car keys and followed 'Red Face' back to the office to fill out the paperwork. 

When the counter clerk checked my ID and insurance he was confused by our names as everyone else since our paths had criss-crossed. 'Mis-crossed?' "Star-crossed?' Even though our respective Driver License's clearly pictured us. 

I leaned over the counter and explained in a deadpan confidential voice to both men "We are half-brother and half-sister. Our daddy was a traveling salesman and a bigamist. With a peculiar sense of humor."

Hah! I had them stupefied "Not only did he give us both the same name of Leslie but both our mothers first names are Petunia. He thought it would drive anyone investigating him crazy with confusion."

Seeing I had both men hooked and ready to be gaffed, I amplified my tall tale "Did you notice that our birthdays are the eleventh and the twelfth of August? Sis was born ten minutes before midnight and I popped out eighteen minutes afterwards. Of course the funniest thing of all was a week earlier, Daddy went for the trifecta as he was in Salt Lake City marrying his third Petunia. Don't know if she was expecting." 

The Lot manager and the counter clerk were both staring at me with utter disbelief and gaping jaws as I went on in my most sorrowful tone "Shortly thereafter, Petunia Three somehow found out about Petunia's One and Two and about Sis and I, their not so little bundles of joy. She wound up shooting Daddy dearest in the ass. 

So he skedaddled and disappeared. We've thought about doing a search for him. Should be easy enough. Just track down women named Petunia. How many of them could there be? Huh? Right? But then again, why spoil the old sot's fun!"

Just to make the story believable, I smoothly segued into "I've been thinking. Since I'm going to be driving the truck, you better put this on my Amex card and make it for four days or a week, which ever's the better deal. Sissy's luck has been so shitty lately, it might take us that long to get everything squared away. Also, We'll need pads and a heavy-duty dolly if there none already on the truck?"

They assured me they were already aboard.

"Included and loaded, good. Then add on two dozen each of those medium boxes and a dozen of the large boxes. The six-pack of the large strapping tape. A ball of twine, a pack of slap-on labels, a couple of markers. A pair of heavy-duty plastic covers for a queen-size mattress and box-spring. A pack of those sliders in case we need to move large appliances. And a large heavy duty padlock. I think that'll do it."

The two UHaul employees close-hauled themselves together and took care of swapping out the transactions before they put the packs of boxes and accessories into the back of the truck for us. 

A week on my card got me a discount the same price as four days, so we were covered in case of delays. I went over to my SUV and leaned into the open window to explain what I had done and why. That any of the supplies she didn't use, I'll be needing when I move in a couple of days. 

Hah! Stunned her again. Score! Then I told her to wait to follow until I turned on to Harbor as I would be stopping for a few minutes to get us a pair of helpers.

She slapped her face in frustration "Saint Christopher on a stick! That's right, I'd forgot. Those butt-fuckers were also supposed to help me move! God, what would I have done without you Windy?" She actually sniffled.

I gave her a bemused look and soothed with "Don't worry KayCee. By time I'm done with you, you'll be owing me so many favors, I'll never have to wash any of my cars again in this lifetime!"

Her face lite up with a chuckle and I smirked "Haw, made you smile."

"Evil bastard!" She said as she punched my shoulder through the open car window.

"Owww! Hey, dumb ol'me, before I forget to ask again. Get out the pad and pen in the console, write the address and directions to your place, so I can pretend I know where we are going. Here is my mobile, enter your cellphone number. If we get separated in traffic we can call one another."

As I walked back to the truck, I rubbed at the shoulder she punched. I suddenly realized she punched with her left hand? 

Hey, I've never had a woman sparring partner before. Could be interesting if she doesn't do cheap crotch shots. But then again...I had a brief fantasy of her inspecting my inadvertently bruised 'Stupid Leslie' and then inapplying her big, luscious lips insoothing that poor inflamed inmember of my most intimate incircle.

It just took a couple of minutes right outside the exit to pickup a couple of men to help us. Oops! What this 'us' stuff, white boy? Am I doing good 'for' her or is it that I want to do good 'to' her? Yeah, you know what I mean! Nudge, nudge, wink, wink and Bobs your uncle. 

As I drove, I was pondering how here I go again, falling into instant lust for a pair of tits before getting to know the woman. Yeah I know, that makes me the boob!

Her former rental was actually not too far. In one of those giant apartment complexes surrounding South Coast Plaza.

As luck would have it, her place was on the third floor. Bad luck, quite a ways from the elevator. Good luck, there was a stairway close by and we could park the truck next to it. She came from the guest parking where she had left my Hybrid and we got together to discuss the order to load her stuff into the van.

"Hey Miss Leslie, this is Ramon and that's Gordo."

"Hey fellows, glad to have you on Team Leslie." 

They murmured their compliments and gratitude for the work and openly enjoyed looking at her. They're Mexicans all right, not at all shy about expressing their appreciation of a beautiful woman. They don't do puritan pretension. 

I looked to her for approval while I offered suggestions how we might start "Miz Thompson, go get the place open. You guys haul the boxes and the dolly up there. I'll bring the accessories and then we'll decide what needs to be done first?"

She nodded, pulled her house-keys out of her bag and headed up the stairs with three pairs of hungry eyes following her 'shapely black ass'. When she turned the first corner of the open stairway she laughed down at our gawking faces and how we suddenly jumped to looking busy. I think she said something about 'Larry, Moe and Curly" but I was too busy trying to look busy to be sure.

Ramon is a short stocky swarthy Mexican with an impressive mustache, whenever he wasn't talking he was whistling south-of-the-border folk songs I would guess. 

Gordo was almost as tall as me. Thin and wiry. From his deep maroon color, high-cheek bones and large, flat nose probably full Mexican Indian with black hair as long as mine but braided. I suspected that 'Gordo' was an alias, if someone was looking for him, the nickname would have them expecting a big, fat man.

While the guys were bagging and carrying her bed down to the truck, I took Mizz Leslie aside to suggest 

"Uhmm Mizz Thompson, make sure you have a bag of clean clothes and feminine items for the next few days. And, uhh, if there are any, 'ahem', personal 'cough', toys or whatever, you do not wish to share, now would be a good time to retrieve'em and bag'em."

I had never before had the experience of watching up close a black woman blush...interesting. 

As I left the bedroom I could hear her muttering something about an 'evil man'. 

I retorted from the hallway "Divinely evil, if you please Madam!"




Paging Leslie Thompson



I could see that in addition to all her furniture and stuff, there would have to be a lot of cleaning. So I offered the two men to call their wives or girlfriends and have them drive over to help out while we were packing everything and hauling it down to the truck. 

Me and the guys moved everything out of the bedroom and kitchen and closets, piling it up in the living/dining room for packing. 

Their ladies brought cleaning equipment and supplies for which I would compensate. After I vacuumed, Ramon started running the carpet cleaner in the empty bedroom while Gordo and I continued hauling down the remaining boxes and a few pieces of furniture to the truck. 

Plus, once we are all finished, the women could take the men home, saving me the trip. That would be worth an extra tip in itself.

Gordo's wife, Rosamaria, was obviously from the same village/tribe. If these two were the same sex, they'd be considered identical twins, he's maybe an inch taller, she's a few pounds heavier. They grew up together, if you asked one of them a question about any subject, the other could answer without hesitation. If you asked the question while they were separate, they would give almost identical answers, every time.

The surprise was the other woman. Ramon's girlfriend is a short, stocky strawberry-blonde Bulgarian woman, named Lucind. I think thats how it's pronounced, she never objected to me mangling it. She just tells us ignorantly inarticulate Americans to call her Lucy.

During a water break, Ramon helped Lucy tell us her story. She had been sold to the international sex-slave trade, somehow she escaped. Made it across the Atlantic then failed the first time she tried to get into America. While she was stuck in Mexico for several years, she'd hooked up with Ramon. Learned to speak Mexican Spanish and a smattering of English vulgarities. A couple of years ago, they made it across the border safely. 

I nodded my head and shrugged my shoulders at hearing of their journey north. Ramon hesitated and then in a doubtful voice asked "Senor Thompson, you do not object to illegals?"

U snorted at that "Yeah, like the way my ancestors made it was so much more lawful and righteous! They were political prisoners from another failed rebellion against the English Crown or more likely for sheep stealing and buggery of said woolies. 

My grand-pa said it depended on how sober his grampa was when he was telling stories he'd heard when he was a boy.

They got shipped to America in chains and sold into indentured service. They murdered their boss, then raped and murdered his family. For which some local Mission Indians were blamed and massacred by a drunken lynch mob. Probably led by the same Thompsons!

Then my kin raped and pillaged their way across Virginia and into the Appalachian wilderness. 

They were such utter lowlifes. During the War of Northern Aggression, the one thing that the partisans for the North and the rebels for the South could agree upon. Was to burn my great-greats out of their hovels. Sending the survivors skulking into the hills to rob and murder any unwary to come along."

Ms Leslie had made it to the Management Office before they closed and should have the remainder of her deposit returned without a too much of a delay. 

Then I took everybody to the Scallion, a nice family restaurant on Sunblossom and payed them off with a good tip. Also, I gave them a business card from the property management firm I presently rent from. They are owned by one of my Uncle's companies. I think I actually impressed Leslie Jayhawker with that.

Enjoying a margarita while waiting for our food, I got my MacBook Pro out and booted up the video and audio downloads streaming in from Chet's party. While Mizz Thompson was busting a gut laughing, I explained the setup to everybody. 

For our dinner entertainment? Fine dining pleasure? We all enjoyed not only the stripper but also Chet's mortified expressions as the Marion clone perfectly performed to my script. Even the waitresses were peering over our shoulders, shyly giggling at the raunchy view. 

The fun ended for the groom's party when several of Newport's finest showed up to assist the Yacht Club management in clearing out the riotously drunken revelers. 

Per my prior arrangements the stripper escaped, with the help of a couple of well-greased waiter, out across the docks as her formidably muscular bodyguard/girlfriend/pimp ran interference. I had pre-paid for two more nights for their vacation at the hotel.

*****************

**********************************

An Appeal To Your Prurient Tastes

**********************************

Our dinner party broke up about nine. I was to take Mizz Leslie back to the apartment complex, where we had left the truck locked up and parked. She had planned to spend the night at the neighbors to whom she had loaned her car.

But when we entered...Hoo Boy! The place was a stinking mess. Don't bother trying to tell me how neat and tidy gay men are. Frankly, 'the 'Boys in this Band' are filthy slobs and I didn't have to talk Mizz Leslie into not enduring a night in this pigsty. 

I had carried her suitcase and overnight bag up. Just a couple of steps inside I turned to her. Leslie's face was weeping between a week of too much stress and this smell. Hell, this stench of frat-boys-gone-wild brought tears to my eyes. 

I just hefted her bags and determinedly chivied her back out. As she locked the door, I firmly informed her she'll be spending the night at my place! She acquiesced with a silent nod of defeat and the pair of us returned to our vehicles. We switched keys again and then we caravanned out of there.

I led in the truck and she followed in my car and we were able to park in the driveway. Paul must be gone overnight, otherwise his monster Humvee would be blocking us out. 

I had the woman take my room and instead of the couch I could sleep in Paul's bed. I was so beat, sleep was all I wanted. She looked grateful that I wasn't about to force myself on her good nature. 

She said 'Thanks!" and mumbled something about how 'Men were always abusing her.' Really pathetic when I could see even faggots taking advantage of her when she had generously loaned them her car. 

I vaguely remember dreaming about the look of horror on Marion's face as she laid in her honeymoon bed and watched as next to her the stripper rubbed her pussy into Chet's face. And then the stripper stuck her bald wet pussy onto Marion's face.

That dream woke me up with a raging hardon the next morning. I managed to rub it out in the shower, then dressed in an old boxing club T-shirt and gym shorts before I went to make some coffee. 

That delicious smell brought Mizz Thompson stumbling out of my bedroom in an inadequately lengthed, thin cotton wifebeater/nightshirt that like to have froze my brain.

As her trembling hands grabbed my coffee mug off the table and she knocked it back like it wasn't scalding hot, I stammered "Buhh, doh, g goodt mornin'." I think my voice went up an octave or two as she was swilling down the coffee. 

Holding the mug in both hands up to her face, she must have realized from where I was sitting down at the kitchen table and my goggling eyes, the view I had of her luscious body as the shirt she was almost wearing was riding up above her crotch. Giving me an up close knowledge that she shaves her ebony labia. Leaving a nice thick patch of curly above, shaved as an upside down crescent moon. And her fine bosom was also clearly outstanding!

"No, no. Please help yourself to the coffee. You're given me an even better wake-up call, woman."

She went from cranky sleepy angry to cheerfully playful in a flash as she realized that the growing bulge in my shorts made it obvious how much I relished being alarmed by her. But, without explicit permission from her, I wasn't going to try and take advantage aside from enjoying the view.

"Wakey, Wakey, Mister Windy." She snarked "God! I love that first shot of Hot Black Joe in the morning." 

She poured herself another cup after refilling mine and handing it back to me. Giving me a closeup of her 'melon crop' doing so. I took a deep breath and a draught, to settle my rattled libido. 

Then I said "You check and see if you have any clothes that will almost fit your damn fine form. Then we can go get some breakfast. Nothing here really worth eating. Paul and I have both been in and out of town this month and neither of us has had the time for groceries. I've already had my shower so help yourself. I put out clean towels on the sink."

"Thanks Windy. I think I can find something that'll appeal to your prurient tastes."

With that she sashayed back to my room. Deliberately I'm sure, allowing the nightshirt to ride up over her gorgeouss Black goddess ass. I could hear her laugh at the strangling noises I made watching her. 

Once she was in the shower and my erection had flagged, I went into my room and put on clean undershorts, tan slacks and a dark pink polo shirt, socks and loafers. While my MacBook was retrieving messages and news clipping, I went out and checked the truck is pulled up far enough for Paul to park behind, if he returns before we do. 

I was sitting at the kitchen counter speed-reading through a couple of days of junk and spam and then adding them all to my do-not-ever-bother-me-again file.

Leslie got my attention again when she walked from the bathroom to my room, with only a towel wrapped around her waist. She pretended that I wasn't watching those really good-looking bazoomas bob and weave as she walked past patting at her nappy hair-do with another towel.

Her nipples are large, poking out of dark puffy aureole at least a couple of inches in radius, black on dark brown on baking chocolate. 

Ohh, Mammy! No wonder southern boys are always going on about their darkie wetnurses.

With tears in my avaricious eyes, I groaned "It ain't nice to tease the beast, Mizz Woman."

She smirked over her shoulder and replied "But it shorely is fun, Mister Man!"

A minute later my mind finally clicked on the symbolic significance of her upside-down crescent shaped 'moon' of sculpted pubic hair and I pealed laughter. Though I doubt if the Farmer's Almanac had 'golden showers' in mind!

In a few, she came out in an attractive cotton sundress. Bright canary yellow with a vertical band of blue flowers over green leaves, cascading down the right side. A matching scarf around her neck and a matching headband valiantly trying to contain most of her dreadlocks. A pair of strappy sandals and a large over the shoulder straw bag completed her outfit. 

"Hot damn Mizz Leslie! Thats'a mighty fine purty you got goingon here abouts. I'ma goinna have tah take you somewhat better to eat upon then a 'Pup & Taco'. This amount of gorgeous would be wasted any where less then brunch at the Pacifica."

"Why thank you kindly Master Leslie. Ah gahl surely do 'precite hearin' ah...sinsearrrr compliment or three...dozen, from ah...ghentlermahn khaller." 

We went out the door and as we're getting into my car, we continued our verbose sparring. Holding the door for her, I groused.

"Master Leslie indeed! Only in my best porn dreams. Jesus, Jayhawk, are you trying to get me into trouble with the PC vigilantes?"

As I got in behind the wheel and we both buckled up. She ostentatiously adjusted the strap between her tits and snarked with a chortle of glee.

"Every chance...can...I...get! You gotta earn your reputation as a divinely evil man when you're with me, mister." 

I started the car, she smirked and asked in a not so innocent tone "Bye the bye Windy, what ARE your best porn dreams?"

I hesitated responding as I cranked my head around making sure I wasn't about to run over a neighbor's kid or a random bicyclist or worst, a dog, when I backed out into the street.

I steered towards PCH and the Pier while with my free hand speed-dialed the restaurant to get us a reservation. We lucked out, since a couple of parties canceled or never showed up and it was only a few minutes to get there. 

"My BEST porn dream? That'd be tough to pick a favorite out of all my choices. I have a vivid imagination!"

"Ahh go ahead, gimme a sample."

I gave her a puzzled glance so she leaned over and put her left arm over my shoulder. Then her hand started to play with my stallion tail. While her right hand casually rested on my right thigh. She smiled feeling the goosebumps and a shiver running up and down my leg.

"A gal can learn a lot about a guy from listening to him dream."

I nodded at the good sense in that. I was enjoying the intimacy of her touch while I had to keep my hands on the steering wheel and my eyes on traffic. Jeez! She may as well had me in handcuffs and blinders!

"Well, I guess sticking it to ex-darlin' Marion and ex-best Chet last night has got to rank up there with the most satisfying. Hey, that reminds me. The dream that woke me up this morning with major timber. It was Chet and Marion lying paralyzed on their honeymoon bed while the stripper was grinding her bald pussy into each of their faces as the other had to watch."

"You Hillbillies just don't do forgives and forgets, does yahall?"

"Remind me sometime to tell you about the bloodfeuds by MY side of the Thompson clan. Oh, and I almost forgot, she's a squirter."

Kansas City Leslie shrieked with laughter as I did the punchline for my dream. We were laughing so hard I almost drove past the restaurant parking lot.

"Oh God, that is so hilaristurbing! As Alexandra Erin would put it."

Surprised, I blurted out "Hey! You follow 'Tales of MU' also!"

She eagerly confessed "I've been a big fan and regular subscriber for the last four years."

I admitted "I just stumbled over it a couple of years ago. I think I've read and re-read it three times already."

We got out of the car and took a moment to stretch and enjoy the tangy salt spray before we went to the entrance facing the lot.

Mizz Leslie giggled "Now I wish I'd worn my Magisterian University t-shirt."

" Or better yet, TWØ=

"I had suggested to Mizz Erin that some of the T-shirt slogans she might consider offering, would be; Ogres don't do Reasonable! and Drows are Under Achievers. And Nothing says Romance like NecRomancey."

Mizz Leslie interjected "Oh, the NecRomancey one was already done by some D&D gamesters. In Europe I think. How about; Subways & Scientists or TWØ is just Too, Too Cute?'' 

We were laughing as we entered and the hostess took us right away. Leading us to an empty booth with the perfect view of the pier and ocean. The waitress brought us a carafe each of mixed fresh-squeezed juices and coffee as we continued chattering.

KayCee quipped "Is that a wand in your pocket? Or, are you happy to see me?"

And I re-quipped "Mack's Demon Daddy puts the Evil in DEvil...uhhmm...Iona's End Was Ironic"

She giggled again, then blurted out "Ohh wait, how about 'Dwarfs don't do Irony!'."

I decided to go for bust and I don't mean her fine tits...or do I? With a waggish lear, I offered "A naked Divine Nymph a day, will keep a smile on your face!" 

She hesitated a second to work out the phraseology, just as I was about to jump in, she blurted out "An Evil Pitchfork will help you pitch a fit." 

I countered with my worst John Wayne imitation "This Here Elemental Plane Ain't Big Enough For The Two Of Us, Demon Daddy!"

She riffed with "TOMU, putting the Smack on Mack and uhmm, uh, Demon Girls Are Smoking Hot!"

I retaliated with "Dee is Deliberate."

She smirked a droll "Mack wants into Nicki's knickers." A brief hesitation, then "Hey Alexandra! How long are you going to let TOMU Drag-on?"

Finally we ran out of ideas and took a moment to calm down from our laughter highs.

Sipping at her coffee, with a contented sigh, Mizz Leslie mused "It has been a delicious sort of frustration waiting for each chapter. She torments us with a deliberate leisurely pace of slowly unfolding the stories."

Then with a far away look in her lovely eyes "That leaves an unusual eager feeling in the pit of my stomach I do not get with a printed book. Kinda like very slow sex."

I nodded agreement with her observation. It really does feel like that to me also. 

She wondered "Where do you think Alexandra is going to take the plot for Mack's Senior year?"

I shrugged with an expression of petulant ignorance on my face as I groused "Damned if any of my guesstimates have ever turned out correct. That was a real cliffhanger AE left us with for the end of Mack's Junior year. I know there is a whole lot of wild speculation racing around the blogosphere." 

My belly rumbled, complaining too much coffee, not enough food! Loud enough to make Mizz Leslie giggle at my discomfort. In mock horror, I looked down at my stomach and tried to ventrilocast in a high pitch voice "Feed Me! Feeeeed Meeeee!!"

She rolled her eyes at my silliness as we got up to hit the buffet, and then she said "Yeah I know what you mean. I know she denies it but I still suspect Missy Erin skims through the blogs. Then she thinks of some plot twist that none of her fans suggested out of sheer cussed contrariness."

We went up and down the buffet counters. Returning with a nice selection of tasty treats for each of us. I was saying "Well, 'CER' entire life has been a mass of contradictions! Why stop now?"

While we'd sated our hunger, I had the waitress bring us flutes of champagne and orange juice, I keep forgetting what they call the drink, Mimosas?

We enjoyed digesting our breakfast with a leisurely walk out on the pier. As usual, a stiff wind was blowing. Distracting me and all the other males on the pier, watching Mizz Leslie try to control her dress from billowing up. Knickers or not? Go on, pretend you weren't wondering? 

We briefly discussed the interesting new developments in the recently revived Other Tales of Aurelian University and Kegan with Alea. Arguing the pros and cons of the alternative history of the AUniverse versus the MUniverse.

Finally, Mizz Leslie was obviously getting frazzled by the constant wind up her skirt, so we went back to my car and headed for my place. 

When we got there, I had to park on the street as Paul's monstrosity blocked the driveway, behind the U-Haul truck. So we went in and I introduced him to my new lady. Did I just call her 'My new lady'. Wow! I got it bad!

******************************

******************************

The Goddess is in the Details

******************************

Mister Leslie parks his Ford Hybrid SUV around the side of the house, what passes for a backyard. Overgrown trees block the view from the houses in back. Our garage blocks the view from the other direction. Paul pulls his Humvee into the driveway, blocking the view from the sidewalk and street. Mizz Leslie's old Toyota sedan is already parked in the street.

The two men go into the house and both come back out through the kitchen porch door. I was carrying a pair of folding chairs, a bottle of car wash and a six pack of beers. Paul had the new hose and a bucket of hot water with a large sponge. 

Paul screwed the hoses together, so that they'd reach around my SUV. Then we sat, crack open a beer each and talked about the Angel's baseball game the three of us went to yesterday. Waiting, expectantly.

Like an African Aphrodite arising from the foam, Mizz Leslie comes sashaying out the kitchen door and down the stoop dressed only in a tiny scarlet monokini and a pair of three-inch heeled ballet-style strap-ons of a matching red shine. 

Against her dark chocolate skin, peeking over the top edge of the singular triangle of cloth could be seen a crescent of dark, curly pubic hairs. With the rest of her crotch shaved, her outer labia mound prominent and her pudendal cleft clearly outlined. Both men's breathing got noisily irregular as their eyes bugged out and their pale faces flushed scarlet with instant lust. 




Paging Leslie Thompson



Her modestly lush breasts jiggled at every movement of her body. When she would suddenly stop and cock her head prettily and pretend to think about what she should do next, those breasts would just sorta keep swinging around on their own momentum. 

She daintily walks past the two seated men with a chorus girl strut. She turns her back on the men to look at the bucket and hose. The men audibly groan at the sight of her gorgeous Ibo ass with only a bright red string running up between her beautiful buttocks for immodesty's sake.

She turns her head and give the two men a slow burning glance and a coquettish moue of her luscious lips. Before turning back, spreading her legs just so and with locked knees, bending from the waist over, to spray a couple of squirts of carwash into the bucket of hot water and stir it in. 

Simultaneously our hands convulsed around the beer cans, crushing aluminum and spewing beer all over our arms and legs. Neither of us barely even registered the foaming mess we'd just made. 

From her bent over position Miss Leslie looked past her boobs dangling between her legs, to the two boobs sitting by the back steps and she laughed.

"I would hope that you boys ain't subject to..ahhm...premature...ejaculations...with everything you mighta be holding!" 

As she continued to torment us with 'look but no touch', Paul croaked out "This! This was a very...very bad idea."

I replied in a hoarse whistle "Very, very bad, badder, baddest sort of idea!"

We continued to stare bug eyed, with ramrod close attention to her 'details', while she detailed my car. As I had foolishly made her promise to repay me for rescuing her last week. 

Paul was the first to break, mumbling something about needing a cold shower as he lurched his way back into the house. 

Mizz Leslie peered over her shoulder with a naughty-girl-quizzical expression as she cocked her pretty head just so. You know the one with the index finger to the lower lip as her breasts jiggled from repressed mirth. I just about came in my shorts that moment.

Deciding that now was a good time as any to inflict her undiluted attention upon me. After dropping the sponge and hose, she sashayed over in my direction. Leaning over me in my lawn chair, her breasts {have I mentioned her fantastic set of boobies before?} barely kissing my lips as she reached into my lap. 

Grabbing my raging hardon within the thick cotton of my shorts and thin cotton of my jockeys and giving it a few good squeezes. Damn! This woman is strong from her weight-lifting. My hairy balls exploded and my eyeballs went curlycue as my ejaculations raced my orgasm to the wire.

She smirked and asked in a sinfully soulful voice "Was it as good for me dear, as it was for you?"

I tried to croak out a witty reply but all that my lips could utter was "Fuckinggoodgolly!"

I sat there staring glassy-eyed and dumbly drooling fore and aft, as she returned to washing my SUV. Hell, if she was willing to do this on a regular basis, I'll give her the damn car! 

When I heard Paul had returned to the kitchen, I staggered up and away and went to shower and change my shorts. By time I got back she was finishing up toweling off the car and it looked good! Though to be honest if an almost naked African goddess was detailing your vehicle, I doubt you would really care about the results anymore then I do at this point. 

She stood back with a satisfied air. Then oozing a sweaty fragrance of sex appeal incarnate, she strutted past me into the house to take her shower. As I collected the hoses and accessories. Putting those away., with shaking hands and incoherent muttering.

******************************

***************************************

A Word To The Wise: 'Doveryai, no proveryai!'

***************************************

I looked Mizz Leslie in her lovely amber colored eyes and said "Darlin', I am going to ask you a question. Do not answer the question, until you have taken the time, as much time as you want, to answer. But before you even consider answering that question I want to make a statement. Then take the time to think about my question and your answer."

She gave me a wary look and in an attempt to alleviate the sudden tension between us, she tried to trope trump me "The answer wouldn't be '42' by any chance?"

I gave her a reassuring grin but shook my head no "In all honesty, I really do have an important question for you."

"Okay, I will try not to snipe nor to snap but I do not promise not to snark."

"The question I have for you is. How much do you trust me?"

A flash of fear brewed into anger as her mind raced through a dozen possible and impossible betrayals I may have committed, without sleeping with her. I reached my hands out and took hers. I could feel that they were suddenly cold.

Amid her beautiful Ibo face, her black pupils, encircled by amber irises dilated and the whiteness of panic became prominent. Her wide nose flared and a snarl erupted from her menacing teeth as her lips pulled back.

"Please, Jayhawk. I am not trying to tell you something bad. I think you will enjoy what I am so clumsily trying to workup to. Please forgive me for frightening you, I should have worded this better!

Give me a chance to explain my intentions before you punch me for unnecessarily scaring you. You know I do not take offense when you punch me, Cause... Frankly... You hit like a girl." 

"Owww! What crazy person has been teaching you how to hit?"

She swallowed down her flare of anger and reconsidered that I have never, during the weeks since we met. I have never done anything that she considered objectionable. To her or anyone else since the comedic dramatics of my diabolical revenge against my ex-best friend and ex-fiance. 

She pulled her hands loose as I was holding her wrists to keep her from hitting me again. I had been teaching her to box and evidently I'm a great teacher as well as crazy. She reached for my head and firmly but gently grasped my cheeks and looked searchingly into my grey eyes.

Still wary but reluctantly willing to hear me out, she gave a quick nod of her head for me to continue. 

I could see she was cringing on the inside, maybe even a fear of rejection, that I would dump her or cause her some other pain. 

She has been barely able to hint to me about the few men in her past life and evidently they had all been right horrible bastards to her throughout her teens.

Her closest friend, Sylvianne Brown, had rescued her from the last and worst abuser, then took her in. They became lovers for almost a year but Leslie is basically a romantic and Sylvianne is fundamentally a Lesbian Dominatrix. 

It became obvious to both of them that Leslie could never be the submissive Sylvianne craved. They parted on friendly terms and still have a close friendship that I admire. Now Sylvianne is living with a matching set of oriental submissive's, twin sisters Gold and Silver Pak. 

"There are two reasons I am asking how much do you trust me. First, Halloween is coming up and there are two major events for which we have invitations.

During the first one, I will be totally under your control and I mean totally! When we leave that event we will switch roles and for the second event you will be totally under my control. And I mean totally. 

This can only work if we both agree on the rules and the behavior we expect from one another. That we both completely share the belief that the dominant partner will not violate the sanctity of the other person's trust."

I confessed "This has been a reoccurring fantasy of mine for a few years now. I just never had a relationship strong enough to go through with my crazy scheme. We will need to discuss boundaries, what we are willing and not willing to do." 

"For instance as my Dominatrix you might want me to play with Silver and Gold or allow Mistress Sylvianne to discipline me. But I would NOT be willing to have any sexual contact with anyone we do not personally know."

She snorted at my thoughtless presumption and snarled "Sure? Hah! I bet you would! Just have to parade a naked woman in front of you." 

I gave a rueful smile and shook my head as I replied "You would control whatever contact I am allowed."

"During the second party, as your Dominant, I definitely would NOT allow anyone at the second party to have sexual contact with you. That also forbids kissing anyone but me. Perhaps you would consider permitting non-invasive petting?" 

"Would you be willing to wear a triple butterfly or other remote control toy? If you are willing, I would do a vibrating butt-plug, remote controlled by you. But no other anal play for either of us. The butt-plug for me is small and there wouldn't be any long lasting effects. And of course you cannot risk any anal penetration." 

"I would be willing but only by you and no one else, not even Sylvianne! To be tormented short of losing blood or permanent marks, just a little more beyond light B&D. 

I guess it would be okay if she advised you during a 'workout'? 

Ib a determined voice brooking no argument "No tattoos or piercings or shaving the head or any other disfigurement. I would not permit any of that to be done to you when I am the dominant." 

"Oh yeah, before I forget. It will be very important that we set safe words and signals. It is quite possible, since we both have almost no experience with these BDSM parties, that a situation or activity may occur that we had not planned on. 

Or the reality turns out to have an Ewww! factor beyond our comfy fantasies. If either of us reaches a point of exhaustion or facing something we seriously do not want to do." 

"Perhaps we are unwilling to continue in our roleplaying or if we just want to leave and go home, the submissive does NOT have to explain or make excuses. 

The dominant has to instantly stop and assist the submissive , uhhmm, partner! In escaping without hesitation or recrimination. 

This only works if we respect and trust one another."

"The first safe word and signal means to stop and wait, and the dominant must ask the sub if they want to slow down, go easier on them or switch to another less demanding activity. Maybe just a few minutes to rest or a toilet break. Then, IF the sub is comfortable enough to continue?" "On with the Shew!"

"The second safe word and signal absolutely means to stop. No means NO! The performing sub partner does not need to explain. The dominant partner is expected to be responsible enough to understand the fears of their partner and not push them pass their endurance." 

"This is a lot to consider before you make a decision. And Leslie, I do not want you to do this only because it MIGHT make me happy. 

It is important to me that you are confident enough in our relationship to be willing to experiment in a safe and sober manner. If you decide no, you do not want to do this? Please? Just say so. 

I'm a big boy, it wouldn't be the first time a woman has sent me home with a raging case of blue balls. As much as I wanted to die, it is not a fatal condition."

"If you say no this year, I still have hopes that we will be together next year and beyond in case you change your mind. Perhaps you would prefer to wait until we have built a stronger relationship between us. 

Perhaps this is just not the sort of roleplaying you would ever want to participate in with a man. Like I said, you do not need to make excuses when I make you uncomfortable or afraid. You well know how strongly I believe that no means NO!"

"Sylvianne is providing the tickets to the first event and has advised me on procedures and safety rules. She wants you to come over to her house for lunch tomorrow at noon or Thursday, so you can talk to her and the sisters about how you feel about this. 

In case there are any important points that I have missed. 

Then, if you are willing to participate, we will want her and the twins to help us assemble the two outfits for each of us."

It was a big look of relief on her face when Mizz Leslie realized that I was talking about temporary, Halloween fantasy dress-up, mild B&D role-playing with some semi-public exhibitionism. 

She had enjoyed the same playing around when she lived with Sylvianne. Whom, as much as it disappointed her inner dominatrix, out of the lifelong friendship between the two women, was considerate enough to not push Mizz Leslie further then would have been psychologically safe. 

For a minute she sat there, brooding about her past I suspect. Then she looked up at me and recited "I can't remember where I read it but I think it goes 'Good relationships, lasting relationships, adapt to changing circumstances. Our commitment to one anther must evolve as needed to sustain our love for one another'."

She proudly beamed at me as I thoughtfully nodded my head at that sage advice. Realizing that she had just admitted to loving me, I smiled back at her.

Standing, we moved together and embraced. Her head on my shoulder, I could hear a muted sob and then a sigh of relief. I decided it was time to give her, her mail. 

Separating I picked up the large Fed-Ex envelope from the table and handed it to her. As she tried to make out the sender's address, I explained.

"Now for the second important matter. A couple of weeks ago, I gave you a copy of my medical tests. The ones that ex-Marian insisted I have. Since those tests, ex-Marian was the only person I had VERY infrequent sexual relations with. And that was just rubber-coated missionary. She kissed like I was her Great Aunt's corpse." 

Waving at the envelope "This would be your test results from the clinic lab."

I stepped back to give her space and finished with "Would you prefer to read this in private? I do not need to read it myself."

She hesitated tearing the cardboard envelope open, then as her lovely amber eyes searched mine, in an uncertain voice she asked "Why Leslie? Why would you say that?"

I took a moment to reassess what I needed to say, took a deep breath and plunged in "To affirm that I do trust you! That I believe you would not withhold any information crucial to our relationship. Now or in the future. Sylvianne has told me about your past and what you endured. I want to be supportive if by some misfortune, any of those bastards have left you vulnerable."

This woman I love, strangled a sob. I reached over with some tissues to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Gazing into her eyes, I insisted "Mizz Leslie, you can feel safe that you can tell me anything! Good or bad, now or in the future and that will not change my feelings for you. The truth is, I am falling mad crazy in love with you."

Shit! My big mouth is this close to pushing this woman into a full-blown panic attack. I gotta to be more careful, she is still emotionally scarred by the abuse she had suffered in her teen years.

She gulped and had to blink back more tears but even though her hands were trembling, she mustered the courage to rip open the envelope in front of me. 

I am so proud of her right now that I could choke. Together with me, that she is willing to confront the possibility of an evil legacy from those nightmare years.

She skimmed through the pages of test results, obviously looking for any outstanding bad news. When her posture relaxed and her face showed relief, that she didn't see any apparent problems. 

I told her "I'm going to go get us something to drink." 

Me, going into the kitchen, allowed her time to consider what she wanted to tell me. I brought out a couple of bottles of Guinness. Since we didn't have anything else to properly toast good news with.

She was slowly rereading each page, front and back, carefully scrutinizing for obfuscations that might be concealing bad news. In a thoughtful voice she said "Well there is good news and there is gooder news. At least from this woman's viewpoint."

"This is all we have left from Paul's birthday party." I handed her a bottle and as we clinked them. 

I toasted " Is féidir linn go léir a bheith ar neamh roimh a fhios ag an Diabhal tá muid marbh! Sla'inte! "

She giggled at my terrible accent as I quoted that old Irish saying to go with the Guinness we are drinking. It made me chuckle to hear from those gorgeous African lips her reply "Erin Go Brach! Sla'inte!" 

We both took a good swallow to settle our nerves before we sat down at the table. She started sliding over to me pages of the rest results. With a quick summary "The good news is that there are no STI's detected. No HIV or AIDS or any other horrible plague given to me by those horrible men." 

I could feel my shoulders sag, as my stomach unclenched in relief.

"My blood panel is clean, cholesterol could be better. They recommend that a Mediterranean diet could prevent future problems. That I could get tips and recipes online. Oh and surprising with my Ibo father, no Sickle Cell Anemia. Not even recessive. I'm glad I remembered to ask." 

"The gooder newsess are the findings of the gynecological forensic consultation. That was the extra bit I had done. That there is no evident scaring left on my feminine plumbing from the gonorrhea. As you said, I cannot risk anal sex but my butt should not need any more surgeries before I have children." 

"Aanndd, what a cute butt it is indeed!" I enthused. It's always fun to see her blush but you have to look closely. 

Nervously, she clicked her nails on the tabletop before venturing "I need to provide my Ob-Gyn a copy of this report to complete my medical history. Especially when... If?... I get pregnant? There is a small but preventable chance of complications."

I could see from her expression, how she was looking at me sideways. Checking me out if I would panic at her mention of childbearing. To relieve her anxiety, I joked "Our children would be a blessing... It's the thought of everybody else's children that makes me cranky!"

Her hand covered mine and she dug her nails in a little to express appreciation that I didn't just jump through a window and run away screaming.

I gave her a confident smile and nodded for her to continue. I guess I have fallen mad crazy in love with her. 

With an increasingly confident tone, she went on "Just about everything seems to test out negative for serious issues. I guess, between us, we are good to go for swapping bodily fluids and, what the hell, perhaps even sex. Now and again. Sometimes."

"Oh thank God! I've been finding online porn rather tedious lately and how did that Nick Scipio character put it. The Ragin' Cajun. He was so lonely that he was calling his right hand 'Mon Cher'."

Mizz Leslie laughed and said "Was he the one that wouldn't jack-off with his left hand because he was afraid his right hand would be jealous?"

"I, uhh. I don't remember that. I guess we'll be forced to re-read 'Summer Camp'."

"You just want to look at the photo galleries, you dirty boy."

"Well if the mnemonic helps jog the memory, guilty as charged Your Honoress."

******************************

******************************

So, Who is Cuming for Breakfast?

Mizz Leslie's perspective

******************************

It was the wafting scent of fresh brewing coffee that convinced Mizz Leslie to pretend she was awake enough to focus her eyes at the big snoring lump in the bed next to her. 

'Oh yah, that's Mister Leslie... So whose making the coffee? It's not like that lummox Paul to get his lazy ass out of bed this early, any morning.' 

Driven as much by my innate curiosity as my deep craving for caffeine, I slipped out of bed and followed my flaring nostrils to the kitchen. 

I started when I noticed it was another woman. Oops! Paul must have brought her home late last night from his date after we had already gone to bed.

I pretended to be polite, cause I'm jonseing for my morning coffee fix and I mumbled "Good morning." 




Paging Leslie Thompson



It was her turn to jump in surprise. She faced me and, way too brightly for what ever the hell time it is, greets me with "Oh good morning. I apologize if my crashing around the kitchen woke you up."

With blurred eyes I squinted at that lying clock. 5:20?... A.M.! You gotta be fucking kidding me!

"Nahh, it always the smell of coffee that prys my big butt out of bed in the morning or I would never get up before noon." I grumbled.

"My apologies! I am so use to getting up this early for the Pre-Market Reports. I make up for it with naps instead of lunch."

"'Salright. I've met crazier. 'Scusemwa. Nature's yelling."

I absentmindedly scratch my boobs as I lurch around and skeedaddle to the bathroom for an urgent pee. 

As I came out of the lav I noticed that she is curled up on the couch watching the CNN business news turned down low. 

An attractive, exotic looking woman. Must be wearing one of Paul's old tank-tops, her satiny blue panties just visible with that shapely cute butt. Oops, she caught me staring as I walked to the kitchen. She smiled at me hesitantly, and tried to tug down the t-shirt. 

Giving me a nice view of her bosom, maybe about the same size as mine, though I'd say the woman was a few inches shorter then me, 5'4"? and maybe 100, 110 pounds at the max. Long shiny, wavy black hair, rich olive skin with surprisingly pale blue eyes. Overall some undefinable Middle-Eastern beauty, I'd guess.

Trying to make light of my curiosity, I joked "Don't worry honey. Around here we are rather clothing optional."

Heck, I was just wearing the top of a rather sheer, pale mauve negligee, that left nothing to anyone's imagination. She'd gotten the better gander at my goodies, coming and going, than I've had of hers. I got a mug out and poured my first of many for the day. I am such a fiend for caffeine!

Returning to the living room, I collapsed into the old overstuff chair after putting a towel down. 

I was slurping the hot liquid and observing Paul's friend, when I noticed she would only pay attention to the screen when a specific woman reporter was on. It finally dawned on me that she and the reporter resemble one another.

As soon as the station broke for commercial I said "Hello, I'm Leslie. Leslie Thompson."

She blushed and sat up straight, to reply in an apologetic voice "Where are my manners? I am Sherry Esfahan. Paul and I... uhmm...last night? We ahh, kinda hit it off. Though actually we have known one another and been dating off and on for the last few months."

I worked to keep from snickering but my poor sense of propriety could not resist the opening lines she just fed me.

"Yep. Last night my fellow and I, we did a whole lot of uhmming and ahhing and hitting it right out of the ol'ball park, ourselves. While mixing it up with an assortment of offing and oning."

She blushed so hard I thought she would spontaneously combust. 

The pre-market report came back on, but when the woman reporter did not reappear right away, Sherry quickly seemed to lose interest and looked back at me. We both started to speak at the same time. So I motioned with my free hand for her to go ahead as I slurped at my coffee.

She seemed perplexed and did the twisty thing with her gorgeous, wavy, long blue-black hair before asking "The thing is, the impression I got from Paul was, that his roommate is a man?"

Oh boy! Paul is sweet but he is proof that sometimes, nasty insults such as 'empty-headed, ditzy blondes' have some underlying truth to them. 

Don't get me wrong, in his own way he is as nice a guy as my Mister Leslie. But its a good thing for Paul he's going to inherit a shitload of Canadian money one day cause he couldn't riff his way out of a wet paper bag.

I waited to respond until I returned from the kitchen with the coffee pot and had refilled both of our mugs. She kept a straight face as I stood real close in front of her, slowly bending over to pour and just letting everything sorta dangle with my legs immodestly spread. 

Her eyes scanned up my body to give me a challenging look when she finally met my eyes. Also I know I get more then a little whiffy after a night of lovemaking, I could see her inhale and then a little pink tongue peeked out to moistened her lips.

I returned from the kitchen and sat down with my second cup, skooching right next to her on the couch. Pressing my bare left leg against the bottom of her shapely feet. 

Nice pedicure, a maroon tint nail polish I noticed. Embarrassed at the contact she tried to move but I put a hand down to hold her feet against my leg. Her breathing became quick and shallow.

I figured I'd better reply with a noncommittal. Me and Windy just have too much fun with new people trying to figure out how we could have the same first and last names. To not milk the coincidence for all the humor impossible 

"Yeah, well, my fellow's also living here. Probably Paul just spoke without thinking, he does that a lot you may have noticed. Probably a side-effect of having blonde roots."

Sherry was about to defend him when the woman she was watching for appeared on screen. Discussing something about the €uro versus the ¥en versus the US$ollar on the arbitrage market. 

How economists were warning that jittery swings in the financial markets of the second half of 2006 could foretell serious global economic disruptions for the next few years. She said something about a Kondratiev SuperCycle? But wasn't permitted the airtime to explain.

I gathered the reporter's name was also Esfahan. As soon as she was off I asked "Is that pretty lady your sister?"

Proudly she replied "She is my Step-Mother, Persia Esfahan."

As I gaped at her, I was thinking that Leslie and Leslie weren't going to throw her for the loop I had hoped. Damn it! I hate it when you know a good joke is going to crash and burn but once it's launched there are no retrieval codes.

"She can't be more then few years older then you!"

"Actually ten years older then me. I think our family tree would put her as a second cousin? Though I've been told that back in Iran, in the tribal region our families came from, if she was from the matrilineal line she would have been considered a niece to my father. 

Because she is from the patrilineal line, she is considered his cousin. My family emigrated to America twelve years before I was born. I was a surprise for both my parents."

"My birth mother died when I was six. A year after that, Persia was married to my father. As her side of the family owed him a huge debt for his assistance in helping them escape the traitorous Khomeini tyranny. Persia took over the role of mother for me and housekeeper for my father.

Sadly, two years later my father suddenly dies of a coronary. Since Persia had not borne him a child but she was already caring for me, she was left in the autonomous status of widow from what she and I both inherited."

"Very unusual amount of independence for a teenage Iranian woman, even one born here in America. Under normal circumstances it would not have been long before she would have been forced by our families to remarry. But the older generation was quickly dying off and there is no one close by with enough authority to boss her around anymore." 

"So Persia continued caring for me officially in our stepmother/stepdaughter relationship. Personally she treated me with loving affection as her younger sister and I look up to her and adore her."

{?? Side Story: In High School, Miss Persia Esfahan becomes Mrs. Esfahan?? "You're not pregnant are you?" blushes "Not yet...working on it! Then suddenly, widowed."}

"We lived comfortably off our family trust and she took advantage of her new personal independence to go to college and then University. Her hard work earned her top grades and that got her top job offers. She was fast-tracked through a couple of international arbitrage funds before joining CNN in New York City this year, as an on-air analyst and commentator."

"During that time, we moved around a lot. Usually it was just the two of us and we became very close. Now I am living here in the OC to attend Jamboree University's International Law program. I also do some freelance translating of Farsi & other Turk languages, Arabic and Hindu. Plus, I am studying Chinese Pinyin." 

"Every weekday morning I get up to watch for her, I miss her so much. What little family is left to us are scattered across the world. It can be years between meeting any of them and then we have very little in common." 

"Watching her, even for a few minutes a day, comforts me and leaves me feeling less lonely. After ten a.m. Pacific, she'll be off the air unless there's some crisis or breaking story. Usually she'll be free for a while and we can chat online by webcam to keep in touch." 

I bit my lip while listening to her, then blurted out "God, I'm so jealous! My sister Virginia and I have a very bad relationship. And my parents always take her side against me, no matter how flagrant her offense to me. That was one of the reasons why I came here to Southern California, to escape from that suffocating burden."

Sherry looked troubled at my outburst. Silently, she fiddled with her coffee mug as I emptied mine. I took her empty mug and placed both down on the table during our silence. Sherry broke the tension with a thoughtful question "Since your parents are the enablers, I'm guessing she constantly demands a monopoly of their attention?"

I shrugged wondering where she was going with this 

"Well, perhaps it's not my place to make gratuitous suggestions...?"

I interrupted with a vigorous nod of my head and a wave of a hand "Yes, yes. Please! Gratooey away. The Good Lord knows, nothing I have ever tried to reach her has worked."

"Thinking off the top of my head. If you could convince your sister to visit you here in California, away from your parents. Keep her busy. Disneyland, Hollywood, Venice Beach, etcetera and so on to keep her from telephoning them. Maybe you could win her over to at least feeling neutral towards you?"

I sat stunned, this smart young woman was making a whole lot of sense and The Good Lord knows I've tried everything else to reconcile with Virginia. I mean, I would be willing to tolerate a lot just to have a sister again. Sherry was starting to look more and more nervous the longer I rolled her suggestion around in my head. 

Finally, thinking she must have somehow offended me, she blurted out "Oh I, ah. I beg your pardon for being so presumptuous, I..."

I interrupted with a big smile on my face and a squeal of joy "Sherry baby! You are brilliant!"

That's when I threw my mostly naked Afro-American body right on top of her barely clad Turco-Persian loveliness. 

Showering her blushing cheeks with kisses. Yep, her boobs are about as big as mine and the faint trace of perfume she still wore from yesterday mixed with the rich aroma from her fucking Blondie last night, was intoxicating as I mashed her delectably intelligent body underneath mine.

She yelped when my hands wandered under her t-shirt and my kisses became more passionate. She was trying to wiggle out from under me. 

I pulled my face back from hers and with a lascivious lick of my lips, focused my shiny ambers on her pale blues and said "Girl, I am going to have to think of some way, some damn generous way! To reward you for your terrific suggestion. Brains and beauty, I love that in my women."

It was a hokey line, but Sylvianne had used it in on me to great effect.

Sherry's blue eyes widen in panic as my greater mass was making it hard for her to catch a breath. A mewling sound escaped her lips and that pushed me to kiss them, hard! 

Her hands tried to push me away, which gave me the perfect opportunity to pull her t-shirt off and lose my nightie. Now our two sets of baby feeders were dueling with long hard nipples.

Suddenly our mouths were sucking out each other tongues. Her hands grabbed me round my neck while my hands forced their way down her back into her panties. I squeezed her buttocks, pushing her panties down her thighs and past her knees where she could kick them free. 

My pussy was starting to leak as I rubbed it against her mons while her legs wrapped around mine. She was now scratching lightly along my back, leaving trails of delicious tingles causing my v-g to clench spasmodically.

I pulled one hand free and used it to grab her long silky black hair to pull her head back from mine. She was trying to catch some oxygen and in a husky voice, demanding for me to stop when I began kissing along her throat and then lightly bit her shoulder.

It was her turn to squeal in surprise. She stopped begging me to stop and started begging me to stop being so rough but whatsoever, just don't stop!

That's when I moderated my pace, taking it down a notch to slow and gentle and caring.

I'm not about to give up my Mister Leslie but it is very nice to occasionally remember, that making love to another woman has it's own sweet rewards. 

Sherry responded with caresses and kisses and whispered endearments of her own. 

Somehow we got turned over so her smaller, luscious body was on top of me. Now she became the aggressor and nibbled her way from my lips to my breasts with quick sharp teeth. 

As she alternated suckling and biting my teats, one of her hands snaked down to between my legs and pressed against my simmering cunt lips with a gentle but insistent twisty motion against my womaninity that quickly brought me to a boil. I could feel my orgasm building and rising and sweeping away all my other senses as it exploded.

She was triumphantly smiling down at me, her lovely Persian face framed by a cascade of shiny hair so black, it had a blue aura to it, as she continued to gently stroke at my fluttering labia and swollen clit. 

I grabbed her pretty Iranian ass with both my hands and the brute strength from doing free-weights, lifted her entire body up until her crotch was right above my Nile-istic crocodilian expression.

She cried out in surprise and bafflement, then cried out again in delirious delight as I lowered her beautiful pink pussy right onto my face. 

She was grinding her blossoming labia against my greedy mouth, as my tongue flickered around her darkly pinking clit. The trimmed black pubic hairs edging this source of delight tickled as they rubbed my face. I could barely hear her squeals and moans of pleasure as her thighs squeezed my ears. 

I started stabbing my tongue into her vagina with laps at her supersensitive clitoris as it played hide-and-seek from my attentions. Her pleasure came in squirts as each orgasm spasmed through her. One right after another, after another. 

Finally she had to grab my hair and forcibly separate her aching cunt from my greedy mouth as too much pleasure was becoming too much pain for her to too much endure.

She shifted back down my body and we cuddled in comfortably blissful highs. 

Finally, I noticed my Leslie was sitting in the overstuff chair I had vacated. He was wearing only a pair of boxers and he was slowly stroking his very erect cock poking out of the fly as he watched us. 

Sherry followed my shark-cat grin in his direction. She gave a muffled scream as she covered her blushing face with my tits, leaving the glistening, rear view of her body for him to continue to admire. 

"Sherry Esfahan, this is my boy Windy. Windy, this is Paul's friend Sherry."

Still unabashedly stroking himself, Mister Leslie replied "Ahh, you are Scheherazade. Paul's spoken of you before. Delighted to make your acquaintance. I should hope that we'll have to keep meeting like this!"

With a mortified expression she tried to squeak out a comment but instead somehow one of my teats popped into her mouth as my hands began rhythmically squeezing her butt. 

I was giving Windy a great view of her little anus and the splendid flowering of her wet vulva down to her pretty in pink aroused inner labia. 

Thats when he got up out of his chair, walked over to the couch dropping his shorts along the way. He semi-kneeled down over my face and presented the empurpled crown of his erection to my eager lips. 

In my position trapped under Sherry, I couldn't swallow him as deep as usual but he was already cocked and primed to go off. So a half-dozen slow, shallow ins and outs as I clamped my lips past his crown, running my tongue along his sensitive skin to set him off. Quickly he was shooting his cum into my mouth. As he grunted and groaned over me, I swallowed a couple of times then noisily licked his softening prick clean before giving it one last kiss as he pulled out.

Sherry, from just a few inches away still suckling my left mammary, had the glazed look of a virgin on her honeymoon. She had probably never before watched so up close anyone else giving a blowjob.

Suddenly her body began to shake and shiver as she came again. Undoubtably triggered by my hands squeezing her ass and the face-fucking she had just observed, close up and personal, in glorious living color with smellovision and surround sound.

Then my Leslie kneeled down on the floor next to my head and gave his Leslie a passionate kiss that sent tingles all the way to my toes. To be mischievous, he licked at my face, sticky with Sherry's love juices and my sweat, then he murmured as he stared into my eyes. 

"Mmmm, perfume du femme...intoxicating! Do Not take a shower before coming back to bed sweetie."

To compound his mischief quota, he stretched over my sagging tits to Sherry's orgastic face and planted a thorough, lingering kiss on her unresisting mouth. 

With a snicker of bravado he then pushed himself up and away into the kitchen. I could hear him pouring the last of the coffee. I knew he would automatically start another pot but I wanted to twit him in front of my new friendly, Sherry. 

"Hey boychick! Put another pot of caffeine on."

I gave her a wink to show I was just joshing. When he responded with "Yes Mother." We both giggled. Laying stuck together in our mutual indulgence, gently stroking one another with coos of pleasure.

He then went into the bathroom for a minute, hearing the toilet flushing as he came out, I called "Hope you washed your hands... This time... Son!" 

He spluttered but went back, we both were giggling unmercifully when he came out again, grumpily shaking his head as he returned to his bedroom.

I sat up and asked "Sherry is short for Scheherazade?"

"Yes, I've been using Sherry since grade school. It simplifies people remembering me and filling out forms."

My curiosity sated, I gave Sherry an affectionate buss and got up to follow Mister Leslie back to bed. 

She looked after me with a happy grin then returned her attention to the TV, to resume watching for her beloved stepmother.

Mr. Leslie's 'Stupid Leslie' was very happy to see me crawl back into their bed. My man proceeded to carefully tongue bathe me all over my body with special consideration for my musky tidbits while moaning how delicious I taste. 

As he lapped his way into my naughtybits, I started coming like crazy with loud piratical arrghhing and sobbing for merciful release. 

After a few minutes of cuddling, once my vagina had unclenched, I came down far enough from my climatic bliss to let him stick his swollen cock into my pussy. He began a long slow pumping in and out with languorous effort. 

As we both started to build up that wonderful pre-orgasmic tension, in tandem we rolled over and he let me take over the pumping at my own deliberate speed. His strong hands rhythmically squeezed my buttocks and thighs while his lips and tongue and teeth played with my tits and tormented my nipples.

Stupid Leslie was a ramrod as I hydraulically moved up and down till my world exploded around his dick which in turn seemed to balloon to giant-size as he began shooting me full of a million tiny Leslies. As our bodies spasmed and our minds shattered, we entered nirvana hand in hand, flogging a few cliches so to speak.