0 comments/ 137077 views/ 18 favorites Jamaican Queen By: LeasaJ The most important thing for you to understand before telling you of the following incidents is—I am straight. I have loved men all my life. I have never even thought—much less fantasized—about a relationship with another woman. Without understanding this, my story becomes commonplace, not worth the telling. I’d been married a year at the time, to a wonderful young man whom I was in love with. Andy loved me in return; anything I asked for he provided. He had pursued me for a number of years, and finally I consented to marry him after he had asked for the third time. I was 23 at the time. I only held my husband off for so long due to wanting to be sure he was the one, not from disinterest. In high school, boys had always pursued me. The title “Class Beauty” was mine in both High school and college. I had also served in both as homecoming queen. My looks had always gotten me attention—from men. Then Vanessa Johnson came into my life as I began work at a firm in Silicon Valley. Where I was blonde and blue eyed, Vanessa was black and brown eyed. I stood 5’7”; Vanessa was nearly 6’1”. I was slender but busty; Vanessa was slender but wiry, well muscled.. I was 23; Vanessa was 33. I was very white; Vanessa was coal black. I was just a coordinator; Vanessa was a VP. I had first noticed her one day while making copies on a hallway copier. She was holding a meeting in a glass encased conference room across the way. I noticed that as she spoke to her subordinates in the conference room her eyes kept coming back to me at the copier outside. I probably would never have thought a thing about it except when our eyes met... There was a look, hard to define, but definitely there. It was a look of lust...sexy, deep, and serious. Amazing, how she could carry on the meeting, while exchanging these looks with me at the copier outside. But Vanessa did just that. As our eyes would meet, she’d let hers drop, looking me over in a very deliberate and obvious way. This occurred not once but several times as I found myself looking back over at her, frankly curious, wondering, “Could this really be happening? Is this really what I think it is? Am I misunderstanding this woman’s stare?” As I continued to copy the papers, I found my hands trembling slightly. I had no idea why at that point, only that this woman was having some strange effect on me. I quickly finished and started to leave. As I did, I looked toward the meeting room once more and saw her again looking me over, this time with a slight smile playing on her lips. After I proceeded down the hall, against my better judgment, I turned to look, yet again—I just wanted to see if she was still looking. When I did, sure enough, she was looking out of the glass room, her back to the other employees, watching me depart down the hallway. When Vanessa saw me turn and look back, giving away my interest, she began laughing quietly, her shoulders jiggling. I felt embarrassed, young and naive. I turned away quickly and continued down the hallway, but as I did, I felt my hips sway slightly more than usual. I could feel her eyes on me. And I felt very sexy... In the days that followed, I found myself thinking about Vanessa Johnson more often than I wanted to. Her short hair (it was cut close-cropped, like a man’s), her large brown eyes, and the clothing she wore. Often Vanessa would wear knee high boots and tight jeans, or even stretch pants that outlined every facet of her tall lean body. Her ass was prominent and well muscled, I’m sure she must have been an athlete at one time. Her legs were very, very long; very slender; and, yet, very well toned, with highly defined muscle. Whenever we passed in the hall, her eyes would lock on mine. Our look, even in passing down the hallway, was always deep. I often felt embarrassed, just after our eyes would meet in their mutual gaze, and would look away, or avert my eyes to the floor. After getting back to my desk, I would find myself flushed red—just by passing her, and being appraised under her penetrating brown eyes. Most troubling was one day, shortly after our first encounter—just after passing her—I found myself aroused. We’d passed in the hall, and in front of a co-worker whom she was walking with, she gave me her usual once-over and said, “Leasa, you look lovely as usual today.” “Th- Thank you, Ms. Johnson,” was all I could squeak out. When I went to the ladies room later that day, I was surprised to find my panty hose very moist. Well...actually, I was wet. Very wet, I’m ashamed to say. Vanessa had me still trembling for her long after the casual encounter had taken place. It was humiliating, but I found myself using my fingers in the woman’s room cubicle to relieve this terrible tension Vanessa had left me with. I didn’t know what to think about my reaction to this woman, so I did what I have always done about things I don’t understand—better still, things I don’t want to understand: I just blocked it out and refused to think about it. But my thoughts about Vanessa Johnson would not go away. As I lay in bed next to my husband, visions of Vanessa would keep recurring: her dark eyes, jet-black skin, and high cheekbones. Her thick, beautiful black lips. I felt tortured with thoughts of a woman that I couldn’t admit I found beautiful...and sexy. Terribly, terribly sexy. With my husband snoring, I found myself using my fingers to relieve these feelings growing in me for another woman. Feelings that frightened me. I wasn’t lesbian! I knew that for sure. But inside I was quite sure she was. So then, why was my this damn body of mine betraying me and responding so wantonly to her? I’d close my eyes and see her beautiful, black face. I fantasized what it might be like to kiss her full thick lips, to lick them, and to slip my tongue between them. I lay in bed wondering, perhaps hoping, “Is Vanessa lying in her bed now, thinking of me like I am of her?” I would then close my eyes and drift off, with the bed slowly rocking, as my fingers attempted to quell the fires between my thighs that images of this black goddess had stoked. ***** As time passed, I began to find all kinds of reasons to be down near Vanessa’s office doing chores. Every time I walked past her door, I would hope she’d notice me. As I’d pass her door, I couldn’t resist peeking in. Then I’d look away quickly, not wanting her to see me glancing in her door, hoping for even a quick look at the object of my desire. She must have noticed. I must have appeared like a juvenile with a silly schoolgirl crush, obviously hanging around her office looking for attention. In the mornings, I would pick out outfits I would wear that day. As I’d hold them up in front of the mirror, I’d wonder how Vanessa would react to me wearing this or that. Would it show off my legs...would she look. In short, I began thinking of Vanessa Johnson day-in and day-out. I was becoming fixated on this woman. In a way, I hated myself for it. In high school, I laughed about girls who were ‘lezzies’...now I found myself having deeply lesbian feelings for this ebony goddess who dominated my every thought. I hated it, but I couldn’t deny it. I wanted her—badly! Finally, one day while outside her office pretending to be working, I heard the call: “Leasa, darling, could you come in here, please?” Adrenalin shot through my veins! I walked into Vanessa’s office and slowly sat down in a chair sitting directly in front of her desk. “Yes, Ms. Johnson,” I stammered. Vanessa got up and came around her desk, directly in front of me and then half-leaned, half-sat, onto her desk. She was wearing her boots and light brown stretch pants. “You know Leasa, we really need to get to know each other better, don’t you think?” I just looked at her somewhat speechless. Then she reached down and stroked my hair saying: “I mean I’d like to get to know you better, darling...” then obscenely spreading her thighs in my face...she added: “And Leasa, I’d like you to get to know me better too.” A moment passed like an eternity...with Vanessa’s thighs splayed barely two feet in front of my face. I had to look. The tight, thin material displayed her prominent mons before my eyes. I saw no trace of panty line. It was obvious, she wasn’t wearing any panties. I looked away. But then felt her fingers turn my chin back to her and tilt my head upwards, commanding me to look into the face that so captivated me. “You would like to get to know me better, wouldn’t you, Leasa?” “Yes,” I whispered, barely audible in the heavy silence of the office room. “Sorry darling, what was that?” she demanded. “Yes, Ms. Johnson.” “Yes what, Leasa?” “Yes,” I paused, my eyes looking again to her vaginal lips, profiled prominently through the crotch of her stretch pants, “Yes...I would like to get to know you better.” Then I added as if in a trance, “Much better...” Her fingers tilted my chin and brought my eyes back up to hers. She was smiling confidently now. “You and I should dine together, my sweet, would you like that?” I nodded. My voice had left me. Vanessa continued, her legs still spread wide perhaps 12” before my face. “And I have a special dessert in mind for you, sweetheart. Can you guess what it is?” she said smiling wide now. I shook my head, no. Then she just remained sitting there, thighs splayed. My eyes sank back to the sight she offered me between her thighs. As I stared it became obvious what dessert she had in mind. She stood up right in front of me. Her pubis now inches from my face. With her hands on her hips she looked down at me, like a conquering, black tribal queen. “Do you find me attractive, Leasa?” I could feel the heat from her prominent mound radiating on my face. “Yes...very,” I whispered. She grinned down at me. Gently cradling my head with her one hand, she hugged it to the front of her thigh. “You are very beautiful too, Leasa,” she said huskily as she maneuvered my face closer to her thinly veiled pussy. Then she nudged it an inch more and I found my nose being nuzzled into her crotch. I wafted the thick, sensual aroma of her womaness. Feeling dizzy and faint from the excitement of what she was doing to me, I still feared someone might walk in on us. God, the door was open! Someone walking by could see! Vanessa seemed unafraid and uninhibited. She thrust her hips slightly forward burying my face fully into her mons. It was obscene and almost crude now—yet, I let her continue, burying my face into her most intimate crevice. My hands came up, pushing slightly at her thighs, to dislodge my face from her mound. But even as I did so, my lips pursed in a slight kiss...my lips to hers. Vanessa released her gentle control of me... but smiled wickedly, having felt the soft kiss I’d given her. “Dessert will have to wait until we finish dinner, sweetheart,” she said, huskily, “Are you that hungry?” “For you, yes,” I whispered. I stood—on shaky legs—took one of her business cards from the desk, and wrote my cell number on the back of it. “I’m free Thursday night,” I whispered, my voice quivering from both nervousness and sexual excitement. “Fine,” she said. Then as I exited her office, she stopped me in my tracks, adding: “Oh, and Leasa...Thursday night—that terribly short leather mini of yours—I’d like you to wear it for me. Understood?” Without turning around to look back, I nodded. Then left. ***** I realize this is a short start...I will only continue it if the women out there let me know they are enjoying it...please vote...and write me your comments. Jamaican Queen Ch. 02 I was laying on my bed, thighs splayed, experiencing the most powerful orgasms I’d ever had in my life. They came in waves, with the first being a tsunami. My abdomen cramped violently, and there were loud grunts that these convulsions elicited from me, then I’d lie sweating in flash after flash of mind shattering after shocks. All brought on by my bedroom fantasies of Vanessa. “God, what is she doing to me, “ I wondered, lying on my bed with a sheen of sweat covering me, occasionally wracked by another after shock. I had become almost compulsive in my need to masturbate thinking of this black beauty, up to several times a day now. The orgasms I achieved, just imagining being with her, were far beyond anything that any man had ever been able to bring me remotely close to. I wished that weren’t true. I desperately preferred the image of myself as the All-American girl next door...the image I had lived right up until my eyes had met Vanessa’s, just days before. But I knew it was no longer a true image. I wanted—I lusted—this fantastic black creature more than anything in my life. I knew I’d do anything now—including risking my marriage—to have her, and her beautiful black flesh, in my arms—or between my thighs. The morning of my date with Vanessa, I found myself naked, combing my hair in my bedroom mirror. In a reverie of Vanessa, I watched my breasts swing freely as I brushed my long blonde hair. I wondered what they might feel like with Vanessa’s lips sucking on them, softly biting my protruding nipples, which were hard and stiff fantasizing in this way about her. Suddenly my husband, Andy, stepped into the mirror’s image. Placing his hands gently on my shoulders, he leaned over, kissed my neck, and whispered, “So beautiful.” As he walked away, I felt ashamed, but my body shuddered. He was now the interloper, the intruder, on my reverie of Vanessa. I can’t explain it, but I felt he’d somehow defiled me in preparing myself for the real love of my life, this radiant Jamaican creature I now adored more than him—Vanessa Johnson. At work, I began to notice that Vanessa had a bevy of young girls who hung around her office just as I did. A pang of jealousy sprung up in me. I wondered if they too were her dates...or even more. I felt confident I could win her from any ‘competition,’ though. I had always done so with the men I’d set my sights on. With this in mind, I stopped in her office doorway, leather mini and all, to say, “hi” and ask some contrived question—but really to command her attention from the other ‘admirers’ flitting about. “Vanessa, could I ask a quick question, “ I said confidently to the tall, black beauty. I’d caught Vanessa on the phone. She wheeled around in her chair, and, somewhat brusquely, replied, “Sorry sweetheart, I’m busy now. I’ll have time for you later, perhaps.” Then she spun back around again and continued with her conversation. She hadn’t even noticed my skirt. I flushed red and felt foolish. As I walked away, I could see some of the other girls had witnessed this casual brush off and were smiling slightly—even giggling—as I had to leave her office—dismissed! Strangely, when I got back to my desk, instead of being furious with her, I wanted her even more. It was as if I desperately wanted to prove myself to her. For the rest of the day, all I could think about was this beautiful, powerful personage I had fallen so desperately in love with...in such a short time. I couldn’t wait to be with her that evening. My thoughts that day were of all the men who had pursued me over my high school and college years. I’d felt idolized as Captain of the Cheerleading Team and as Homecoming Queen. I remembered being voted “Class Beauty” in high school, and posing for the picture in my yearbook, with envious girls and admiring boys all looking on. I was always the one being pursued. But now that had all changed. I was now the nervous one, the one who hoped they could... ‘measure up’. I sat at work wondering, “Will she like me tonight? Am I good enough for her?” I worried I might not be. We drove to the restaurant in Vanessa’s Jag with the top down. We must have been a sight to see. A tall black woman, closely cropped, and her young, longhaired, blonde ‘friend’. Vanessa wore a short dress that showed off her long black legs. I wore the black, leather mini and a low cut black top. When we arrived at the restaurant the young, black parking attendants couldn’t believe their eyes. These two gorgeous opposites arriving, seemingly, as a couple. After we got out of the car, I came around to Vanessa’s side and she leaned over for a kiss. I responded with a quick kiss on her full lips and we entered the restaurant, hand-in-hand, leaving the parking attendants slack jawed. When we were shown to our table, Vanessa led me through the restaurant by the hand. Old businessmen’s heads swiveled as they watched us, wide-eyed and open mouthed. Soon they were buzzing and whispering to each other as they pointed in our direction. I never felt so proudly displayed as I did holding Vanessa’s hand and being pulled through the lounge area, all eyes on me. As has so often happened in the past, my body responded to all this attention and my breasts swelled, with my nipples protruding to obscene proportions. I’m sure the men could all see my body’s heightened arousal while being in the companion of the statuesque Jamaican who played the role of the dominant partner. We were seated at a somewhat hidden booth around a corner in the back of the restaurant. Shortly after being seated, Vanessa’s long fingers began to stroke my bared thigh as she casually reviewed the menu. I felt very much in the presence and command of a sort of superior being. I tried to deny it to myself, but I felt ‘lucky’ to be the woman seated along side her this evening. Soon her fingers were gliding high along my inner thigh and approaching the thin veil of my panties. I gently closed my thighs to restrict access, if for no other reason than common decency in such a public place. This slight move drew a look of reproach from Vanessa: “Leasa, are you playing little games with me?” “Vanessa, we’re in public...the waiter will come soon.” “Do I look like one of the little boys you’re used to dating—or the little boy you’ve married?” “Umm...uh..well, no, but Va—“ “Then don’t disrespect me that way! When I touch you—however intimately—you are to happily offer yourself to me. Do you understand? Or would you prefer we end this evening, not to continue our relationship until you’ve grown up?” “But...I...well, no. Vanessa I don’t want that...” I tried defending myself, but she was too strong, too smart, for me. “Then behave yourself like a young adult. And stop these childish games.” From that point her hand began again its slide northward along my thigh. As it ran to the point where my thighs touched, I now wordlessly, gently, parted them, affording the access this powerful woman had demanded. I was now open to her desires. Soon her fingers were stroking my pussy through the thin layer of silk that was my thong panties. I could feel my lips growing moist as she stroked them—all the while looking over her menu. I could soon hear the slight squishing sound of my wet nether folds under the torment of Vanessa’s playing fingers. At this moment the waiter turned the corner and faced us. He was stunned to see this dominant black Amazon’s hand stroking the young blonde’s, barely veiled pussy, all in plain view. Vanessa, bold as ever, slowly began asking questions about the menu, even as her fingers continued playing between my spread thighs. I was too humiliated and embarrassed to even make eye contact with the man. In the corner of my sight, I did see the bulge forming in his pants, and I could hear how he exaggerated his answers to Vanessa’s questions—an excuse to continue observing her fondling of my intimates. After he had left, Vanessa pulled her hand out from between my legs and grasped my chin directing me to look into her eyes. “My, my Leasa. You are so wet tonight. Do women always make you so wet so easily?” I shrugged. I didn’t know what to say. I felt ashamed and humiliated at what I was letting her do to me—in public. I could smell myself on her fingers. “You know what we call a woman who gets as excited as you for another woman?” I just looked into her eyes speechless...I shook my head, no. “A bull-dyke.” The term slapped me. It was the most derisive term that could be used against a lesbian girl when I was in high school. I am ashamed that I once used it to describe one of my gym teachers who used to stare at me when I undressed in the locker room. “Are you a ‘bull-dyke’ Leasa?” I shook my head, no, again. I fought back crying because I desperately wanted to be mature, so I wouldn’t lose Vanessa’s respect. “Yes, Leasa. That’s exactly what you are. Look how wet my fingers are from you.” She then held the sticky digits before my eyes, leaving a sticky trace along my chin where they had recently been. Then while looking into my eyes, she held the fingers under her nose and crudely sniffed them. “Mmmm...When a girl gets this hot from the mere touch of a woman...well, that’s definitely bull-dyke material. Leasa, sweetheart, I’ll have to watch you around my other girls. You’re the type who may not be able to keep her hands off all the other pussy running around the office.” Tears were welling in my eyes now... “Please, ‘Nessa, be nice...” “I thought I was...or are you too good to be a dyke? Is that it, sweetheart? Would you feel dirty to admit your true feelings, the true you...the real Leasa?” I began crying at this point. Vanessa then quickly held her napkin to me and dried my eyes, shushed me, then put her large black lips to mine. We kissed deeply. Her hand fondled my breast. I could feel her long tongue snake into my mouth and coil about mine. Like a serpent she was slowly ensnaring me in her coils. And I gave into her...willingly. The waiter came around the corner again. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat, to politely interrupt our lovemaking. “Should I return, later,” he asked. “No,” Vanessa replied, with me still in her arms, “It’s inappropriate to start the dessert before the meal, eh?” she kidded the waiter with a lewd wink. “Uh, yes madam, if you say so,” the embarrassed waiter answered. During the meal, Vanessa continued to play with my pussy. Without looking up from her meal she said: “Leasa, you’re much too wet...you’re pussy is ruining your lovely thong, drooling for me like it has all night. Go to the ladies room and remove it!” “But Va—“ I stopped myself in mid-sentence. I knew better than to try to argue with her. I dabbed my lips with my napkin, and then grabbed my purse and excused myself to the ladies room. In one of the cubicles, I removed my thong. It was embarrassing because Vanessa was right. It was almost ruined it was so soaked with my vaginal secretions. I put it in my purse and returned to the table. Vanessa just held her hand out—demanding her booty. I thought of asking her to wait till we were back in the car. But I could tell by her look that I shouldn’t to try to cross her. I opened my purse and handed her the thong. Vanessa held it up and stretched the crotch of it. “Darling, do I make you this horny?” My face was red. Without making eye contact, I nodded. I could hear Vanessa giggle triumphantly. I thought I heard her mumble something about a, “bull-dyke.” Vanessa looked me up and down. She stared at my breasts. “I’ve wondered Leasa...what size cup are you?” Why she insisted on continuing to humiliate me, I had no idea. But I could see she was definitely enjoying it. “Um...36C,” I stupidly answered. “They look so firm,” the black woman smiled, and then reached up and began squeezing my left breast. After playing with me, for any one passing our table to see, she said: “Leasa, go remove it. You’re too beautiful to be confined.” “Vanessa, I can’t!” I was determined to put my foot down. She held me sternly in her glare: “Yes, Leasa. You can. And you will.” We glared into each other’s eyes, but I could feel my will weakening. I just wanted her too much. I grabbed my purse again and returned to the ladies room. In the cubicle I removed my blouse and then unsnapped my bra. I knew the blouse I was wearing was too shear and too tight to go braless. Everyone in the restaurant would notice. As I returned to the table my breasts bounced obscenely. A waiter passing by nearly dropped his tray. I was a spectacle for everyone to see. The bar could have demanded a cover charge for the show I put on as I strutted back to Vanessa. “That was quite a performance, Leasa,” my ebony mistress smiled. “Yes, they call it a command performance,” I hissed, half angry, half aroused by it all. In response, Vanessa tweaked one of my swollen nipples, whispering, “Show off.” “I think it’s you showing off,” I answered, “Showing me off to the men in this place, and showing off your mastery of me, no?” “Maybe,” she answered. Then glancing down at my protruding nipples, she added, “But you’re the type that likes it.” I had no answer for her. I thought she might be right. When we left, all eyes watched me bounce and jiggle to the door. Outside the carhops ogled my tits as they brought the car around. Before getting in the car, Vanessa hugged me to her and brought her lips down on mine in a deep tongue snaking kiss. The boys just stood and stared. Then Vanessa reached down, bringing up the back of my skirt, and palmed my naked ass for the boys to see. She squeezed my cheeks crudely for their excitement. When she was done she parted her lips from mine, smacked my bottom loudly with one hand, and we proceeded to get into the car and left. When we got back to the office parking lot, Vanessa pulled me up to my car. I waited for a good night kiss but it was not forth coming. I felt it was a bad sign that she would ever ask me out again—maybe I hadn’t made the grade. After saying good night, Vanessa just offered her hand. We awkwardly shook hands as a ‘goodnight’. I opened my car door and sat down into the seat of my car. Before I could shut it, Vanessa got out of her car and came around to my open door, standing right in front of me. Looking down on me she asked: “Leasa, didn’t you want a goodnight kiss?” I looked up at her, as she moved her loins close to my face, and nodded: “Yes.” Then she lifted her short skirt up to her hips, baring her naked pussy, inches from my face: “So do I.” I stared into the moist lips glistening in the lamplight, then sunk my face into them. I kissed the swollen wet lips, licked them, ran my tongue up one and down the other. I was out of my mind in heat for this black goddess and her gorgeous mons. I stuck my tongue into her vagina as deep as I could, as if I were frenching her. I ran it in and out of her. Vanessa moaned deeply. It excited me to know I was making her moan that way. I was thrilled I could give this woman I worshipped such pleasure. I nibbled at each of the thick lips of her labia. Then glided my tongue down and up each again. I kissed her clit and sucked the engorged nub into my mouth, sucking as I would a man's dick. Vanessa began moaning and grunting more violently and loudly now. Suddenly she cupped the back of my head with both hands and ground my face deep into her mound, grunting and groaning. She went on for what seemed like minutes, humping herself onto my face. My nose was being rubbed repeatedly deep into the folds of her pussy lips as I slobbered away between her thighs, wanting more and more of her. When she was finally done, Vanessa looked down on me, smiling blissfully. I looked up adoringly at her, my face wet and sticky with her vaginal juices. Vanessa finally tickled me under my chin and whispered: “Do you know what a ‘rug-muncher’ is?” I drove home later that night, my face still soaked with the remains of Vanessa’s passion. I could see the stickiness all over my lips and cheeks whenever I’d view myself in the rear view mirror. Before leaving the parking lot, Vanessa had asked me over to her house on Sunday to join her and ‘some friends’ in her hot tub. I knew her ‘friends’ were two over-weight lesbians from work who were both at least in their fifties. I accepted with trepidation. Please vote, and write me your comments and suggestions... Jamaican Queen Ch. 03 “There she is girls, and she’s all ours,” Vanessa smiled to the two older women joining her in the hot tub. I had just stepped out of the house through a sliding glass door and was discarding my robe. I could hear the loud gasp as the three older lesbians got their first look at me in the bathing suit that Vanessa had chosen for me to wear. It was a shear white one-piece (barely) suit. The suit had two thin straps that held up a bikini-like top attached by a few strands to a thong-like bottom. My ass was in full view. My pussy was barely covered by a shear white, 2x4” triangle. The material in the strong sunlight was so shear that at certain angles it became see-through. The way the two fiftyish—and over-weight—women stared and gaped made me feel like an object of pure lust. It disgusted me to have these two butch lesbians look me over like a piece of meat, one prepared just to sate their unnatural appetites. I strode to the hot tub under their glare, feeling naked. Strangely though, I felt my body was also aroused by it all. And I also felt proud, in a strange way, that I was pleasing Vanessa by impressing her mannish friends so much. As I climbed into the tight quarters of the hot tub, I thought the two homely and squat women’s eyes would bug out. I had to lean over quite a bit getting in and it showed off my breasts in all their glory. My breasts are quite large for my slender frame. As my weight fluctuates even 3-4 pounds, I often find them going from 36C’s to D’s. In climbing into the tub, I also had to turn from them somewhat. My naked ass—much to my embarrassment—was placed squarely in their faces. They were delighted with this. Sitting down next to Vanessa, I was face to face with the two older women who had grossed me out so much in the past. One was Billie Jean. Billie Jean was about 5’5”, squat, probably 175 pounds, with wide hips and a full gut. She wore her hair like a man’s. It was even parted on the side and combed up in the front into a little pompadour. It appeared she wore some kind of gook in it too, like older men do. Billie Jean was a manager in our IT department. She had given me looks and made eyes at me since I joined the company. I always hated going down to her department because of the ogling and occasional remarks she’d make about me transferring to her department so we could, “work together.” She’d always say it with a smirk, emphasizing the phrase so as to stress its double meaning. Then her eyes would slide down my body in a very sleazy and demeaning way. She was a true redneck from Alabama where I’m sure alternative lifestyles were not so appreciated. She had served as a sergeant in the women’s army. Coming to the Bay Area was liberation for her and her lustful needs. I had a good idea of what she had in mind for me, if she ever got the chance. I was determined, up until this instant, she never would. In fact, I had always tried to make sure she never saw anything but disgust and disdain from me...until now...in this hot tub...as Vanessa had me parade myself before her...all but naked to her lecherous view. The other woman was Mi Ling. A somewhat obese, slow-witted, Chinese woman who was new to the U.S., Mi Ling worked for the Janitorial Department. I had seen her many times mopping the cafeteria floors at work. Often, as I’d get on line to be served, I would catch her staring at me. She would seem to just stop in her tracks, cease her mopping, almost frozen in place, and just stare at me. I’d never seen such lust in a woman. Mi Ling was also extremely butch and man-like. She wore her hair in a crew cut, and wore no make-up, whatsoever. Mi Ling was also quite fat. At about the same height as Billie Jean, she was probably 200 plus pounds. The Chinese woman’s lustful stares would always give me the chills. As I would walk past her with my meal, she would look me up and down, and especially stare at my breasts. I found it extremely gross. I also feared that someone else would notice the blatant way she was checking me out, and perhaps think there was some feeling or interest in return from me. I found both Mi Ling and Billie Jean repugnant. And now, here I was, at Vanessa’s command, almost undressed before them, modeling a few strands of nylon that exposed me for their pleasure. All this ran through my mind. Then I wondered, “So, why then are my nipples stiffening under the gaze of these two homely lesbians?” Vanessa put her arm around me in a very showy way, to impress the two gnome-ish lesbians that I was her property. “Billie Jean, Mi Ling, you both know Leasa from the Marketing Department, don’t you?” Vanessa phonily inquired of her homosexual companions. “Oh yeah, we sure do!” Billie Jean drawled loudly, laughing as she did. Mi Ling’s eyes went to slits as she giggled slightly, definitely getting the joke. They knew me alright, but not as well as they were hoping to get to know me today. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Vanessa asked rhetorically, as she turned my face to hers, cradling it in her large hand, and began kissing me deeply—all for the show of impressing her lesbo comrades. As Vanessa kissed and tongued me with building passion, I felt her hand begin to cup and squeeze my breast. I could hear Billie Jean gasp in excitement at seeing me—the blonde object of her lust—being pawed so casually by her Jamaican friend. A moment later, Vanessa flipped the thin material down and took my bared breast into her hand as we kissed. To the soft “oohs” and “aahhhs” of our lesbian audience, Vanessa began mauling my tit crudely, exciting these two hungry women to a dangerous degree. Vanessa’s lips pulled away from mine. She then slid her tongue along my lips, teasing them, seducing them into closing back onto hers. As our lips worked away, I suddenly felt a second hand begin to grasp and manipulate my tit, roughly. Billie Jean was now playing with my breast and tweaking my nipple, even as Vanessa sought to distract me from these incipient steps of rape with her passionate mouth. I could feel Billie Jean pinching my nipple and pulling on it, almost as if it were a toy for her lust, mumbling to herself, “Oh wow...Oh, fuckin’ wow...Got her now...right in my hands!” My feet were also being lifted now. I knew it was Mi Ling across from me. My feet were being spread and placed over her shoulders. I could feel her hands beginning to work away at the strings that tied the bottom of my suit to the top. Soon they were loosened and I felt my bottom thong being pulled off me. I tried at this point to pull away from Vanessa. I could see what was happening, and I was determined to fight off this invasion of my body with all the strength I had. But Vanessa—to my right—kept pulling my lips to hers, holding my face to hers with her strong hand. And Billie Jean—to my left—held down my arm as she now began sucking and biting on my nipple. Mi Ling had full control of my legs, even as she clamped her lips down on my clitoris, her head fully between my thighs. I struggled for a minute or two, but they were too strong for me. And so too was the heat that was being stoked throughout my body by these hideous and lecherous older women. Mi Ling’s tongue expertly worked the lips of my labia and drew moans from me. I couldn’t believe this gargoyle of a woman could give me such exquisite pleasure. I groaned from both pleasure and self-disgust as I could feel myself building toward an orgasm under the constant and steady tonguing Mi Ling was providing. “Ya got her goin’,” Billie Jean shouted, “Holy shit! Mi Ling ya’ got her goin’!” I could here Vanessa laugh to the others: “I told you she was hornier than a toad!” In the back of my mind, I wanted to strike out at them and run away. But Mi Ling’s tongue was subduing me. To my own horror and shame, I was building to a crescendo and couldn’t resist the Chinese beast between my thighs, feasting on me. “Aaaaaahhhhhhh...!” I screamed and stiffened, arching my back and thrusting my loins forward into Mi Ling’s ravenous mouth. My thighs locked tightly about her head as I squeezed and lurched through the most powerful cum I had ever had...all at the hands—or better, at the lips and tongue—of this vile, obese janitorial worker. But I could never deny it later; Mi Ling had now been my lover. Although slow-witted, obese and ugly, she had been a far superior lover to my husband—or to any other man I’d ever had. After the blazing orgasm slowly subsided, I felt subdued, defeated. As Mi Ling sank back to the other corner of the hot tub, licking her lips and smiling in conquest, Billie Jean now began kissing me and whispering sweet nothings in my ear. “Darlin’ you’re the best lookin’ woman I ever been with, ya know that,” she whispered as much to herself as me. Billie Jean sucked on my neck, giving me a bright red hickey. It seemed juvenile for her to be doing this, but it was more her way of branding me. It was something she would be able to see—and point out to others—on Monday, proving I had been hers. The older woman nibbled on my ear, “Been wantin’ you a long time Lease...ya know that?” she whispered. “You been wantin’ me too, ain’t ‘cha?” she queried. As we kissed, I nodded, ‘yes’. Why, I have no idea. I’d never wanted her. I detested her. I found her disgusting. But now I was assenting to the insinuation that I had wanted her all along too, just as she had wanted me. A big, triumphant smile stretched across her homely face, “Yeah, I been knowin’ ya did. Just takes a little time for hoity-toity types like you to come around...but ya’ did, didn’t ‘cha?” Again, after a long agonizing silence, I nodded my agreement. I felt conquered and defeated now. I was too tired to fight these aggressive, butch dykes any longer. I was theirs. Billie Jean left the hot tub to sit with Vanessa a few feet away. I lay my head back, out of the tub, onto the pavement. I heard water stir and then a shadow blocked the sun. Water began dripping onto my face. I opened my eyes to look up at Mi Ling slowly maneuvering herself over me, straddling my face with her cellulite-laden thighs. Her twat was hairy, its lips thick, sagging from her pelvis. Like a nightmare, she began lowering herself onto my face. “No...please...Oh God, no!” I began to whimper, hoping Vanessa or Billie Jean would come to my rescue. But they just sat in their lounge chairs, stunned, watching Mi Ling straddle my face. I tried to fend her off by pushing my hands against her thighs, but she was far too heavy. In a moment, my face was buried in the folds of her labia. She ground her hips forward and back, rubbing my face into the warm wetness of her vagina. I continued to try and resist, but soon realized Mi Ling was not in the mood to take “no” for an answer, not from the young blonde she felt she had already pleasured in just such a way: “You turn, now...” she whispered, hoarsely. After struggling for a minute or so longer, I found myself beginning to lick the rotund, bear-like woman. “Ughhh...Ughhh” she grunted over and again, with each stroke of my tongue. Soon, I was working my tongue over her moist lips and deep into her now drooling hole, much as I had done for Vanessa a few nights before. Never in my life would I have dreamt I would ever service this horrible beast of a woman. The very woman who had made my skin crawl just weeks before when she’d even look at me. Now Mi Ling was sitting on my face, using me for her sexual gratification. The other two women watched in stunned silence as Mi Ling continued grinding her cunt into my face, just using me as a tool to get herself off with. My tongue and lips were now working feverishly on her bulbous clit. Like her, it was thick and fat. I worked it over and over with my tongue, thinking the sooner I could bring this elephantine woman off, the sooner she would stop smothering me with her hairy twat. As Mi Ling grew more excited, I thought she might kill me, either by smothering me under her flesh or drowning me in the copious secretions that began flowing from her over sized gash. “AAArrrgggghhhhhh!!!!” Mi Ling exploded all at once. In the throes of her orgasm, she thrashed about so, that she moved forward and positioned her ass over my face. As the orgasm subsided, she brought her ass slowly down over my face. I fended it off slightly with my hands, but—though I can’t explain why—as she held it there, I spread her cheeks slightly, and let my tongue continue to pleasure her, licking away gently at her anal ring. She grunted again in pleasure, holding her self still for several minutes while I continued. I will never be able to explain it to myself. But, somehow, I just wanted to give this miserable specimen of a woman as much pleasure as I could. Why? Please, don’t ask. I could never give a coherent answer. I suppose I felt she had taken me, like no man ever had, without asking, without pleading, she just took what she wanted of me, and I had a grudging respect for her strength of will...a strength of will that had subdued mine. Suddenly, the woman in me responded to her strength, and gave up to her what she had rightly won...won by just taking it. Finally, Mi Ling rose shakily from tub side and staggered over to the other women, then plopped herself into a seat, still breathing heavily. Billie Jean came back into the tub and sat across from me. She was now totally naked too. “Come here, Leasa,” she commanded. I looked groggily over at her thinking, “Aren’t they done with me yet?” I continued looking over at her for several long seconds, then she reached over, grabbed my hand and pulled me through the water to her. I seemed to glide through the water as if I were flying in a dream. I landed softly, my thighs straddling her hips. Our faces just inches apart. Then I leaned toward her, planting my lips on hers, initiating our kiss. Our breasts crushed against each others as we hugged passionately. Her hand stroked my hair as we kissed over and over. Billie Jean whispered, “I love ya’ babe...” “Me too...” I heard from another voice...one that I knew was mine. I leaned forward and sucked deeply on her neck. I was determined to brand her as she had me. I worked on giving her a hickey, which she was gladly receiving. Her hands were now under my thighs and stroking back up under my ass. As I continued nursing at her neck, she rubbed my ass cheeks, cupping them with both hands. Billie Jean held me as she would a child (even though I was a good deal taller than her), cupping, stroking, and squeezing my buttocks as she gently rocked me back and forth. Exhausted, my head lay on her shoulder even as I continued to nurse at her neck. I could hear her whisper triumphantly to Vanessa and Mi Ling—as if speaking of a child in her arms: “She sure is affectionate now, ain’t she?” “Ah yes, BJ,” Vanessa replied, “She’s yours now...I told you she was easy.” “Yeh, she can’t say, ‘no’, huh?” Billie Jean responded. Then she whispered in my ear, again as if to a babe: “You just can’t say ‘no’, can ya’ babe?” I was too weak to argue with them even though I knew that to these old, lesbian hags my silence was seen as nothing less than assent. “Alright ladies, play time is over,” Vanessa announced, “I have a date to get to tonight. Bring ‘blondie’ up to my bedroom so I can finish with her.” In short order, I found myself upstairs in Vanessa’s bedroom, spread out on her bed, my arm draped over my eyes. I was exhausted and ashamed of my behavior in the hot tub with the two old lesbians. I wanted to forget. Vanessa was beautiful naked. Every thing about her was long, sleek, muscular, and black. Her ass jutted out, large and muscular. She was like a panther—stealthy, vicious and dangerous. I was still in some kind of erotic awe of her. As I lay on the bed, Vanessa strode to her dresser and pulled out a crude object with belts and buckles hanging off it. I made it out to be a grotesquely huge, black phallus. She stood along side the bed and carefully strapped and buckled it on. When she was through she stood before me with this long, ominous projectile jutting from her loins. Vanessa positioned herself on the bed and knee-walked herself toward me, nudging my thighs roughly apart as she did so. My thighs were now spread widely apart, and between them knelt this Amazon with her enormous, surrogate, black cock. “Beg me to fuck you, you white slut!” I was stunned! Vanessa had never spoken like that before. The words had spit from her mouth, vicious and embittered. “’Nessa, please don’t,” I whimpered. Slap! Slap! My powerful ebony lover slapped me twice. First with her open hand, then again with the back of her hand. “Don’t make me bitch-slap you again, Leasa,” she spat, “Now, beg!” I was frightened. No man had ever done that to me before. No man would have dared. Slap! Slap! Before I could even respond, Vanessa dealt me another ‘bitch-slapping’. “Please Vanessa, don’t...” I whined. “Then beg—or you get more, you white tramp!” “Alright...” I surrendered, “Please...fuck me.” “That sounded unconvincing,” Vanessa insisted, “Convince me—or I swear, I’ll take a belt to you if I have to!” I was now very frightened. I had never been treated so roughly. Most men I’d ever known worshipped me. They wanted only to please me. Now I was in the presence of a woman far more powerful than any man I’d ever known. She was too strong, too dominant, for me...I did what I felt I had to... “Please baby, fuck me!” I shouted. “More,” the dominant Jamaican woman demanded. “Please Vanessa, fuck me...make me your whore...oh baby, make me your white whore!” I could see I was pleasing her, so I continued: “Oh baby, make me your slut...I just want to be your white slut...please baby, fuck me...break me open...I want you to own me!” I had no ideas where these words were coming from...but I was responding to them too. My body was hot now, hot and wet, for this gorgeous creature to penetrate—to penetrate hard, fast, and repeatedly. Vanessa was also aroused by my exhortations. She began working the huge bulbous head of the surrogate, black dick into the folds of my pussy lips. I was extremely wet by now and slowly she worked the huge object into me. Soon she was laying herself on top of me, her fantastic, powerful hips now pumping the long, mahogany cylinder into my juicy womb. “Ummph...Ummph,” I grunted with each painful invasion of the oversized weapon. But her rhythmic penetration of my inner loins began to incite an incredible heat through my entire body and mind. “Ohhh...Ohhh, “ I was soon moaning aloud...very ‘aloud’! I could hear the two aging dykes downstairs giggling as they listened to their ebony companion ride her blonde mare, breaking her in as a soon-to-be domesticated beast of burden for the entire Bay Area lesbian community. “Ohhh God! Ohhh God! Vanessa, fuck me hard...make me yours...make me your slave...I’m just your slave, darling,” I began moaning aloud, while wrapping my legs around her piston-like hips. I wanted Vanessa to take me, own me, use me...whatever made her happy. This black queen was giving me such tremendous pleasure that I just wanted to be with her forever, to be hers forever. I never really would consider a man again. Vanessa was now changing that forever, with each incredible thrust of her hips. All I could think at this point was to wish that somehow, through some freak of nature, this incredible female could give me a child. I wanted more than anything that this could be her dick that was now invading the inner-most depths of my womb, and that she could now be impregnating me with her magnificent essence—her child. Jamaican Queen Ch. 03 I was wracked by a number of orgasms as Vanessa pounded into me again and again. The session went on for nearly an hour. By the end I was sore and exhausted. I had cum so much that day, at the hands of several women. I was drained. I lay on the bed, while Vanessa went and showered, my legs spread wide, my body slaked with sweat. The door was open and I could feel Billie Jean and Mi Ling stealing looks in at me. My swollen and pummeled nether lips hung open from the sweet punishment Vanessa had wrought upon them. I could tell from the stirring in the hallway, my two older lesbian lovers wanted more of me. There just wasn’t any more I could give. I was a thoroughly vanquished, thoroughly used, sex object. The two older women seemed to acknowledge this, and along with their confidence I would be back for more in the future, they decided to let me be. Vanessa was soon decked to the nines and left for ‘her date’. I was jealous, but too in awe of her to dare argue or object. I was learning my role. In her life, I was just one of many, nothing more. Mi Ling left for the evening, but Billie Jean stayed. She was watching Vanessa’s house for the weekend, and she clearly wanted me to stay with her. At this point, I could have easily invented a reason to leave, but I didn’t. I phoned Andy and told him I’d had a little too much to drink at Vanessa’s get together and was going to stay over. He was disappointed, but said, fine. Andy had no suspicion at all of how dramatically Vanessa was transforming my life. I spent the rest of the evening in Billie Jean’s arms as we used Vanessa’s bed—in the way Vanessa would have wanted it used: in the service of lesbian lovemaking. How I could have submitted to this wretched and homely woman—a woman I detested just days before—I don’t know. All I know is, I began to enjoy the ways she could make my body feel, and the ways I felt under her as she dominated me throughout the evening. Later that evening an onlooker would have come across this scene: A middle-aged, over-weight, and quite homely woman lies at the head of an undone, well-used, bed. Her thighs are spread obscenely wide. Between them is the bobbing blonde head of a 24 year old, ex-homecoming queen, working away with her tongue obediently, even hungrily, in a devoted effort to provide the older woman sexual pleasure. The older woman smiles the dreamy smile of deep satisfaction and gratification, then slowly pats the blonde girl’s head in approval... ***** But that’s for another episode...if you are still enjoying it. Please vote! More important, please write me. I love hearing from you all.