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Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 01

By: Abraxis



Gwen, dressed in just her charcoal sweater, knelt on Domenique's living room rug, her sweet round ass up, her smooth brown legs spread apart and her head nestled in her folded arms. She watched Domenique, still fully clothed, sitting on her chaise, sipping her spiced white wine, and roving her eyes covetously over Gwen's lovely contours. Gwen, her ass open and waiting; , a sumptuous money shot of smooth creamy brown buttocks, smiling pink anus, trimmed black mons and a narrow width of glistening pink promise, was in three quarter profile to Domenique's vantage. 

Her face betrayed nothing of her desires or intentions concerning Gwen and her luminous, supple flesh. Domenique, as much a fetishist for shapely feet as she was for delectable pussy, eyed Gwen's expertly pedicured toes, smooth slopes and healthy arches. Like a painter that was in love with her subject, Domenique led her eyes along the composition of Gwen's image; from the soft pastry puff pads of her toes, up to her lusciously shining sex, down to her sly hazel eyes and lazy smile and back again to those gently sloping soles. Over and over, Domenique's eyes roved, perusing revolutions, her eyes circling and circling, her pussy pulsing, warming. 

"Well," said Gwen, breaking the silence, "What are you going to do to me?"

It occurred to Domenique that she'd been enjoying the picture perfection of Gwen's position for at least fifteen minutes.

"Are you getting uncomfortable?" inquired Domenique as she reached to take another mouthful of wine.

"Oh no." Gwen purred, "Seriously? After that amazing foot rub; God, it's like you snuck something into my drink."

"Maybe I did." Domenique teased.

Gwen laughed a soft laugh; sedate and euphoric.

"Now, now," she said, "We both know there's no need for that." 

They'd met over a week before, in the shoe store that Domenique managed. It was busy, but there were plenty of floor staff available. But, inspired by first sight, Domenique decided to find her way closer and closer to one particularly magnetic customer she'd spotted entering the store. Gwen, tall, tanned, bright hazel eyed and luxuriously black haired, met Domenique's gaze and smiled a warm, welcoming grin. In that instant, she realized the potential was there. 

Pairs and trios of mostly female shoppers, young and old, obliviously chattered, chose shoes, milled about or test walked around Domenique and Gwen as they discussed their own trivialities. 

A size eight, open toed; of course I'd be happy to help you with that. But, to start off, let's size you. Please have a seat. Those are lovely shoes you came in with. You're welcome. Oh, I see you don't have your own hosiery. No, it's not a problem. My, but you have the loveliest feet I've seen in a very long time. Of course I mean it. Where do you get them done? Seriously? You treat them yourself? I'm impressed. I'm very impressed.

"What did I tell you I am?" asked Domenique as she placed her wine on the coaster she'd placed on her end table.

"A dirty girl," replied Gwen through a wide smile, still in her odd, submissive position, "A very dirty girl."

"And what exactly does dirty mean to you?"

"Now that we've gotten the formality of testing out of the way," answered Gwen, swaying her upturned ass lazily to and fro, her smile fading into a straight line of sobriety, "Dirty; means everything to me, Domenique."

From her position on the floor, Gwen assessed her seductress, eyeing her compact yet lean frame and luminous face. She recalled the first sight of her, her deep, knowing amber eyes, her oval face, creamy olive complexion and artfully bound lustrous auburn highlighted brown hair. Gwen thought fondly on how Domenique had literally shown, like a star, between the mundane, oblivious other customers and assistants passing among them. Before Gwen realized what was happening, Domenique had begun to handle her bare feet, cradling them, subtly stroking them and taking it upon herself to fit them into each of three pairs of the most comfortable shoes she'd ever bought. 

From there, the conversation deepening to a healthy shade of blue, they'd shared lunch at a nearby sub shop. Then, after night fall, Gwen had met Domenique for a second time. They strolled together along a public stretch of beach, the black night tempered by the light of a full moon and the city lights beyond the boardwalk. It was Gwen that suggested that they walk shoeless, and it was she that knelt first to remove Domenique's sandals, caring to touch them with the same gentle longing that Domenique had touched hers in the store. Not long after, slowly making their way between the lazy sea and a private, shadowy mountainous break of boulders, the women stopped to share their first kiss. Their faces remaining very close, Domenique and Gwen breathed each other in, and exchanged shy smiles before engaging in their second kiss. After the third passing of their hungry lips, their appetite slick, swollen and mutually ravenous, Gwen and Domenique agreed to slow it down. And so they did, returning to their cars and driving to the nearest theatre and buying tickets to something worth their time. 

Domenique chose something loud and full of action and Gwen, bedazzled putty in her hands, agreed. Other than the cool yet brief stare of a handsome black girl seated two rows ahead, her hair beautifully braided, her eyes glimmering cat like as they reflected the colors on the screen, , no one noticed them continue their kissing, smell the further whetting of their appetites or hear their cryptic conversing over Gwen's longing for true love or the sweet nothing allusions of the dirty things Domenique wanted to do to her. The movie, guns fired, cars crashed and bombs exploded, blurred quickly to an end. From there, the budding lovers returned to the beach, sat in the sand and constructed a mutual foundation of psychological intimacies. 

As the night darkened dawnward, they wanted nothing more than to ravage each other, but Gwen insisted that they play it safe. She clarified that she couldn't truly be comfortable with giving herself to a beautiful stranger until the worst possible potentiality, namely any STD, was eliminated. Ultimately, maddened with lust for her, her panties saturated with postponed gratification, Domenique robbed Gwen of her keys. Gwen's options were to either come along for a ride to an undisclosed location or remain stranded. 

By three in the morning, Gwen found herself strolling with Domenique into the busy waiting room of a twenty-four hour clinic in the deepest depth of the city. A variety of victims, beaten, bitten, stabbed, burned, anxiety rattled or too drunk to stay awake, waited to be seen. Domenique winked at Gwen before they approached the in-take nurse's desk. She was pretty; tired blue eyes, red haired, healthy complexion and muscle toned. Beside the desk, sat a very, very old looking lump of a man, who was holding a bag of ice on his crotch. 

"Yes ladies," said the nurse, "Which of you needs to be seen?"

"Uh, both of us." Domenique announced.

"What's the problem?" sighed the nurse, turning her gaze to her computer screen and giving her mouse a click.

"Well you see," answered Domenique, "My friend and I would really like to have amazingly dirty sex as soon as possible, but she won't let me get my mouth on her most flavorful places until we both get tested for the presence of any negative consequences of having indulged ourselves in the delicacies of others."

"How poetic." Gwen remarked.

"How responsible." The nurse intoned, raising a quizzical brow at Gwen.

"How romantic." Croaked the little old man, a lurid smile brightening his face. 

"Now Mr. Sullivan," said the nurse, "You've had enough excitement for tonight. Think cool thoughts my friend."

The nurse rolled her eyes away from the old man, and looked Domenique in the eye.

"Have a seat ladies." She said, "It'll be a while." 

As they waited, Domenique and Gwen riffled through magazine after magazine while clearing the air about past lovers and other risky business. Yeah, but did he wear a rubber? No. How about you; did she use a dental dam? God Gwen; who the fuck wears dental dams? Ultimately, Gwen confessed to a fair number of bad choices and regrets, as did Domenique, and they had both vowed to themselves that enough was enough. There, at nearly five in the morning, flanked by a hooker in hand cuffs and a zit faced teen-ager with a fairly large iguana attached to his finger, Domenique and Gwen promised one another that they'd would be each other's clean slate, no pretences, no games; just good clean dirty fun. 

The doctor on call eventually met with Domenique and Gwen separately. In the debriefing, the two women giddily conferred that Dr. Glasscock (yes, Glasscock) had made it perfectly clear that he was from the Hampton Glasscocks and not the Worchester Glasscocks, as if they'd been aware that there had ever been of any clashing between any two Glasscocks. He, the good doctor, ultimately ordered their tests for the top menaces of sexual health: Chlamydia, gonorrhea, hepatitis B, hepatitis C, herpes I & II, HIV and syphilis. Then, a couple of cups of urine and a few vials of blood later, Domenique and Gwen were all set. However, in spite of her best efforts, Domenique had to wait five to seven days for the results.

"Well," said Gwen as the doctor disappeared down the hall, "It was still really fun though."

Domenique, her arms folded, her disappointment obvious, raised an eye brow, sighed and looked away.

"I'm sorry." Said Domenique, "I'm so dumb. I just got carried away. I get; very eager. I'm very bad that way."

"Well, I'm flattered, if it's any consolation."

Domenique turned to face Gwen. For a moment, they locked eyes. From Gwen's expression, Domenique saw sincerity, hope, patience and her anticipation of being sweetly ravaged. From Domenique's naked stare, Gwen saw the patience of a calculating predator, and the promise that she would be utterly devoured. Presently, a smile came to Domenique's lips, softening her expression. 

"It is." She said, and then gave Gwen a quick peck on the cheek, "How about we go get some breakfast and then I'll take you back to your car?"

"Sure."

Domenique drove them to a Greek diner not two blocks from the stretch of beach where they'd begun their night. Choosing a corner booth, they sat beside each other , snuggling and kissing as each opportunity revealed itself. The waitress, a pleasant young blonde; lean, long legged, large breasted, fresh faced with a gleaming stud hanging from the side of her right eye brow,

brought them blueberry pancakes, which they'd lathered in heaps of butter and syrup. Domenique and Gwen ate lustfully, talked, laughed and talked some more. Before they knew it, strangely freshed faced and alert despite the long night, they watched a glimmering pink sun creep over the horizon. A short time later, Domenique paid the bill, and together they stopped in the ladies room. Then, just inside the door, Gwen cornered her and proceeded to kiss her deeply. In the next instant, Domenique realized that she was being dragged into the accessible stall. Once inside, Gwen locked the door behind them. 

"Do you have to go?" she asked.

"Sure I do." Answered Domenique.

"Then let me watch you."

Domenique paused only scant seconds before going about undoing her slacks and dropping them, and then her musked panties, to the tiled floor. Gwen stepped out of her sandals, let Domenique take her bare beautiful feet in, and then stepped to meet her as she sat on the clean white commode. Domenique peered up into Gwen's eyes, then watched as she opened her blouse, undid the front snaps of her bra and let her soft sloped conical breasts out for Domenique to see. They were all that she'd imagined, firm, plenty to handle, pallid bronze lobes, tipped with two olive rose areolas and firm, long nipples. Then, as Gwen began to unfasten the buttons of her stone washed Lees, someone else had entered the ladies room. Realizing that the person was at the sink washing her hands, Gwen, smiling with mischief though blushing more than she had at the clinic, continued to reveal the fragrant delight of her fastidiously trimmed dark haired pussy. Domenique stared and, unable to take any more, began to spread the lips of her own pussy, lick the business fingers of her right hand and work furious circles against her rock solid clit. Gwen had begun to roll her nipples between each thumb and forefinger as Domenique eased her face close enough to Gwen's pussy in order to take in a great breath of it. The woman at the sink had finished up and initiated the blower, which was when Gwen reached her fingers past Domenique's sniffing nose to spread her own luscious lips. Then she licked her own customary culprit digits and proceeded to work her swollen nub hard and fast until her hips began to quiver with the promise of a climax. Suddenly, the blower stopped, but no creak of the ladies room door could be heard. Nearing her own orgasm, Domenique paused and tried to see if the woman had left yet. Gwen looked over her own shoulder, but turned quickly around, drew Domenique's gaze, smiled and then mouthed the words "Let's give her a show." 

With that, Gwen poured it on, her circles suddenly shortened to a tight up and down sprint to the finish line, the stakes raised by the potential new spectator beyond the stall. Domenique, flushed and panting, approached her own peak, during which, in the span of three seconds, caught sight of their waitress peering through the quarter inch of clear view that happened to be between the hinged side of the stall's door and the panel it was affixed to. Domenique, suddenly slammed by a crashing wave of pleasure, sent a flood of girl come and urine into the bowl beneath her. She rode her euphoria, and then opened her eyes to see that the waitress was still watching, the precious stone stud of her brow gleaming like a beacon. Domenique then quickly redirected her gaze so that she could watch the spectacle of Gwen's contorting face, bouncing tits, rapid fire fingers and nearly spastic pelvis. 

Gwen stared back, wide eyed and panting, her open mouth shaped to utter the name of her pleasure. but the sight, as it was, didn't last for very long. It was only a few more seconds before Gwen's wave of ecstasy hit her, sending her head back and squeezing her eyes shut. Then, together they languidly descended. Gwen pressed her spent body against Domenique's lips, letting her trail kisses along her belly and the upper edge of her pussy's hair. Domenique reached her hands around to Gwen's firm ass, caressed their smoothness, and then clutched them greedily. Seconds later, Gwen slowly drew herself down and squatted before Domenique who was still voiding a torrent of piss. There, their lips met once again, and they devoured each other, lapping their cool tongues and smacking each others lips with the animal love afterglow of their shared masturbation.

"The waitress," said Gwen, still swaying her naked ass slowly back and forth, "At the diner that morning? How much do you thing she saw?"

"Enough to build up a little fantasy fun for herself after her shift ended." Domenique replied, crawling from the couch to Gwen's beckoning ass.

"You think?"

"I know."

Domenique withdrew a wipe, and went about lovingly polishing Gwen's pretty little pink asshole. She, Gwen, had thoroughly washed, lotioned, primped and dolled up before arriving at Domenique's apartment. The tests had come back negative, their mutual trust, desire and affection for each other fostered through the week, neither one revealing any fear to the other that the testing would be positive. Domenique tossed the balled up wipe to the end table, and then scooted back to once more fully savor the sight before her.

That night, their first real, anything goes, night together, began as Domenique had promised. After a fine dinner of stuffed chicken breasts, baked sweet potatoes and escarole salad splashed with fresh lemon juice, salt and olive oil, they retired to the couch to start indulging in other sumptuous delights. There, nestled in the plush cushions, Domenique had devoted nearly forty-five minutes to rubbing Gwen's beautiful feet. The act sent pulses of heat into each of their sexes, though the effect on Gwen's ardor was visibly more profound. 

Domenique had literally massaged the pants right off of Gwen. Of course, the comfort Gwen took in the secured knowledge that it was safe to indulge in Domenique helped more than a little. But, ultimately, there Gwen lay, in the cradle of Domenique's parted legs, unfastening her stretch jeans, working them down until Domenique gently tugged them from one leg and then the other. Then, after a few more minutes of Domenique's expert massaging, Gwen pushed her white lace briefs down as well. For Domenique's own pleasure, she left them around Gwen's ankles for a time as she sucked her smooth round toes and watched Gwen caress her own belly, thighs, mons and dripping lips. Domenique's tongue slithered and undulated from heel to ball, toe to toe and each sloping nook in between. 

"Get up," Domenique had eventually instructed, "If you're not too relaxed, and let me see you walk around the room."

Gradually, amazed at exactly how relaxed she was, Gwen got to her feet and proceeded to stroll around the room. Domenique changed her position, took occasional sips of her clove infused white wine, and followed every move Gwen made.

"Very nice." She announced, "Stop right there. Good. Now; face your back to me, drop to your hands and knees. That's right. Now rest your head on the floor. Yes, just like that. Nice; absolutely beautiful"

"Now what?" Gwen laughed, trailing fingers along her own upturned ass.

"Now; wait." Said Domenique.

There Gwen waited, relaxed, recalling their first night together, primed and ready. Domenique set the wipes aside, and then lowered her mouth to the beautifully contoured folds, ridges and pads of the bottoms of Gwen's feet and proceeded to revisit each feature from heel to toe. Then, she lapped her tongue, painting the pad of each toe thrice over, lapping each precious fold and wrinkle until she crested Gwen's heels. Next, Domenique kissed and licked the smooth contours of Gwen's lower legs and thighs, breaking the chain on occasion to sniff the fragrant musk of her waiting asshole and pussy. As such, Domenique rose slowly higher and higher, closer and closer to her dirty little indulgence.

"Mmmmm," uttered Gwen, high on her relaxation, "Are you gonna eat my little asshole baby?"

"Oh yes.: Domenique whispered, "I've been aching to munch your ass honey."

In the next instant, Domenique began to tongue her way into her lover's sweet pink anus. So she lapped, driving her tongue round and round, relishing the scents and flavors of Gwen's most secret place, her saliva flooding from her mouth, saturating Gwen's hole and cascading down her thighs, intermingling with her pussy's succulent juice. Deeper and deeper Domenique drove her tongue into Gwen's ass. Presently, she worked her fingers into Gwen's dripping pussy, and then brought them back out. Her fingers doused slick, Domenique plunged them into her lover's primed anus. Gwen hummed with pleasure, Domenique being the first partner to literally massage her Skene's glands to life, flooding her clitoral crura with the blood of love, stimulate her pudendal and perineal nerves and ultimately tickling her swollen red clitoris from behind. 

"Oh I had no idea it would feel this good!" Gwen sang, "You truly are a dirty girl, aren't you? I want to make a video of you doing that to me. I want to see it. Is that what you want me to do to you baby? Do you want me to eat your little asshole all up, huh baby?"

"Yes." Domenique whispered, her cheeks wet, her chin dripping, as she fucked Gwen's ass with two fingers.


Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 01



"Mmm, you're so bad Domenique." Whispered Gwen as she plunged her own fingers deep inside her pussy, "I want to lick your dirty face. I want to taste my ass on your lips. Mmmmm; oh, yes, I want to do it for you baby. I want to do you front and back. Please baby, can I?"

Gwen felt Domenique pull away. Removing her fingers, Gwen raised her head, and then crawled around to face her lover. She watched as Domenique flung the clothes from her body. Gwen took off her sweater and tossed it aside, and eyed Domenique's perfect B breasts and brownish pink nipples. An instant later, the two women had joined once more, breasts smothering breasts, arms embracing, fingers caressing, pussy juices intermingling and mouths devouring, their palettes filled with the aromas of Gwen's sweet ass. 

Then the briefest of pauses; Domenique pulling away to pluck a wipe or two from their container, cleaning her face, tossing them aside, and then reaching for her wine. She drank. She offered her glass to Gwen, and she too drank. The glass then emptied, Domenique returned it to the end table, and then drove herself back against Gwen. They fell together, rolled and crawled upon each other's flesh, kissing, licking and sucking inch after smooth, humid inch until they lay on their sides; face to pussy and pussy to face. One to the other, Domenique and Gwen hummed, whispered and cooed, their tongues lapping, driving coaxing each other's clits to stiffen, harder and harder until their pussies quaked, bringing each other to blissful delight. Domenique wagged her tongue ravenously against Gwen's hot red nub and drilled it into her sopping hole. Gwen sped furious laps against Domenique's long clit, and sucked it down like the little cock it wanted to be. Together they came, small jets of cream shooting against each others faces and into their mouths. Still they ate each other's morsels, tireless in their desire to make up for the whole week of waiting.

"Gwen! Domenique whimpered suddenly, "Gwen baby! Please eat my ass now. Do it baby please!"

Gwen obliged; easing her body forward, leaning in, stretching her long tongue until it found Domenique's luscious pink hole. Gwen gripped her cheeks tight as she drove her hard tongue into her lover's asshole, the ends of her long hair slick with sweat, saliva and pussy juice. Deeper Gwen drove her tongue, not at all hard enough to breach Domenique's sphincter. But Gwen wanted to ensure that her lover would feel as much as she could, so she dunked her fingers into Domenique's dripping pussy, withdrew her drenched fingers, and then plunged them into the woman's anus. Slowly, Gwen worked one long finger passed the tight ring of muscle, then another, and then proceeded to fuck Domenique's ass as she'd fucked hers; driving, pumping them deeper and faster. They grunted and moaned together like animals, their fluids puddling on the rug beneath them, their ecstasy culminating for the third time between them; a final duet of shuddering shrieks and howls.

For a time they panted, their breaths coming fast. Then they parted slightly, to lay on their backs and bask in the euphoria of their after glow. Still, their breaths rushed hoarsely from their aching lips until the ringing of the door bell rendered them both instantly silent. Neither spoke or moved. Again, it rang.

"Are you expecting somebody?" asked Gwen as she raised herself to a sitting position.

"Uh, no." Domenique answered as she herself rose to sit, wrapping her arms around her knees.

It was only about half past nine, but anyone Domenique knew would have called ahead. Her apartment was the first floor of a two family walk up, so it could be anyone outside her door. The neighborhood wasn't too bad, though home invasions were on the rise, and nothing she felt prepared enough for. The bell was rung a third time. Domenique and Gwen glanced at each other, exchanging looks of concern.

Domenique reached for her pants. She wriggled into them, and then threw on Gwen's sweater. Getting quickly to her feet, she stepped quietly down the short hall to the front door. Gwen, clutching Domenique's blouse against her chest, followed, but remained just around the end of the hallway, peeking from behind the corner. She watched as Domenique peered from the eye hole. Domenique then turned to face her and shrugged. Gwen shrugged in kind, her eyes widening, and then gestured her chin toward the aluminum bat leaning beside the front door. Domenique reached for it and frowned, wishing that the bat was actually a gun. But it was all she had, so she gripped it firmly in her left hand as she undid the three locks of her door. Domenique opened it wide, flicked on the porch light and peered through the dirty glass of the storm door. Then, angered at being disturbed and frustrated with having been made afraid, she disengaged the storm door's lock and flung it open. Domenique looked left and right, and saw not a soul. Then she looked down, her eyes drawn by a soft white glow. She paused.

"What is it?" hissed Gwen from down the hall.

Gwen stared as Domenique dropped to take something from below the base of the door. A moment later, the doors locked and the bat returned, Domenique approached Gwen, an arrangement of flowers cradled in her arms.

"Odd hour for a flower delivery, don't you think?" Gwen intoned as she tossed Domenique's blouse back into the living room.

"Yep." Domenique replied as she unwrapped the flowers.

She pulled back the tissues, and exposed the usual leafy greens, baby's breath and three healthy white roses. Two of the roses were picture perfect, their petals unfurled and glistening with droplets of condensation. The third, though appearing just as healthy, was still closed. Gwen took the bundle, glanced at Domenique, and then began searching for a note. Finding nothing, she peered into Domenique's eyes.

"Who could this be from?" asked Gwen.

"Isn't it obvious?" answered Domenique as she took the roses and headed for the kitchen, "There from someone who would like to join us."

"Join us?" repeated Gwen as she turned to look at the door.

She stared for a moment, imagining someone waiting on the other side; amorphous women, men, naked fleshy forms without distinction, disembodied ghosts that morphed finally into Domenique; amazingly beautiful, wonderfully engaging, intense, sexy as fuck all and much, much too perfect to share with anyone.



Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 02







Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 02



"You bitch, you did not!" cried Gwen. 

"Of course I didn't, but that's what you were thinking. Hmm?" Domenique retorted, meeting Gwen's stare.

"Hmm, what?" Gwen repeated, looking back down at her game.

"Hmm, you don't trust me."

"I trust you." Said Gwen.

I just don't want you to be seduced like you seduced me, were the words she thought. The next few moments passed in silence. Outside, crickets sang their wing song, singing their shared whistling doublet pattern; amassed in oblivious unity. Gwen became sullen. Her Ninjump guy succumbed twice more; dieing by way of Gwen gesticulating him to suicide. Fuck the roses then, she thought, fuck their mysterious appearance at Domenique's door step that night, and fuck the someone ringing that door bell again and again as our bodies still resonated with the afterglow of the dirtiest, most satisfying sex we'd had in a very long time. I'm an idiot. Then say you're sorry. No. I don't feel like it yet.

Gwen and Domenique's desire for each other had been instant, but over the last three months, the relationship had evolved into something more solid and interdependent. They'd filled any remaining cracks between the stones of their psychological intimacies with the gritty sand and the gentle rain of their endless conversation, mutual preening and the reciprocal divinity of sexual satisfaction. The final result, as far as Gwen believed, could only be love; that jagged cliff's edge, staring down from its precipitous drop off into the clear blue depth at its base. I wonder; does Nique love me? Do I love her? Can I say it? Should I tell her? And yet; it was Gwen herself that chose to speak the first words of disunity : "the waitress. 

Initially, for the first week after the mysterious delivery, Domenique had entertained some discussion as to who their admirer might be, and had gone so far as to keep the three long stem white roses long after the third had finally unfurled, and ultimately hung all three to dry for the sake of keeping as a memento.

"Who knows." She'd said, hanging the roses upside down, their ends bound with pastry box string, dangling from a push pin in the darkest corner of her kitchen, "It might be a blessing."

"Blessing?" Gwen questioned, leaning against the refrigerator, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her mouth turned down in a frown.

"Anyway," said Domenique, deciding to break the silence, "What are you going to do if it's her?"

Gwen met her gaze, locked her iPad's screen, closed its case, and then set it beside her. Glowering, she searched Domenique's seemingly knowing expression. What makes her so damn smart anyway, she thought. Fine. I can be smart too.

"I, my dear, am going to ravage her like the dirty ass tonguing slut you've turned me into." Answered Gwen, "You know why?"

"No." smiled Domenique as she moved Gwen's right foot to the left and right for better vantage, "Why?"

"Because she's you, that's why."

Domenique stopped and looked back up.

"No she's not."

"Yes she is."

"I can assure you that she's not me."

"Don't worry Gwen, we'll find her."

"Oh my fucking God Domenique; I don't need to find her!" growled Gwen, pulling her feet away and then wrapping her arms around her smoothly shaven legs. 

"But you; want to find her." Domenique persisted, shrugging and beginning to gather up Gwen's tools. 

"No, I don't want to find her! I don't want either of us to find her because I don't... I don't want her to take you away from me."

Gwen, tears beginning to trail the length of her cheeks, stared boldly back at Domenique.

"Gwen honey, I wouldn't let her do that."

"Really."

"Really, Honestly, truly; because I want to find her for you."

"No!" Gwen hissed, wiping her face.

"Yes; for you, so that you can know how much I will risk for you, so that we can test the integrity and longevity of the great institution of the pair bond."

"Well now you're just being a jerk."

"Gwen? What is love?" asked Domenique as she went about returning Gwen's pedicure tools to their case.

"I don't know Domenique;" said Gwen sniffling, feeling stupid for crying, "A song by Haddaway, Howard Jones, (En Vogue, Jennifer Lopez, Deee-Lite, uh, Rookie Of The Year?"

"Now you're being a jerk."

"Whatever."

Domenique zipped the case shut, and then looked at Gwen. Still weeping, Gwen averted her gaze, and then started to rise from the chair. In the next instant, Gwen found herself pinned where she was, Domenique straddling her lap, her tight grip holding both her wrists fast. Powerless, angry at her own stupidity and weakness, Gwen stared brazenly into Domenique's eyes. She too had begun to cry. Roses are bled; Violence a clue. Sugar defeat and my Nique is blue. Moments passed as crickets beat their sweet monotonous song. Still, they stared into each other's sorrowful eyes. Finally, Domenique loosened her vice grip around Gwen's wrists.

"Love is selfless generosity." uttered Domenique, her voice shaking slightly, "Love is free. "

"So?" asked Gwen, ashamed and confused.

"So; I will give her to you and you will give her to me."

"And she'll give us back to ourselves when she's finished?"

"That's the thing you're not getting Gwen honey. She, he; I don't know, it might even be some stalker for you know! Whoever it is..."

Domenique looked away, peering between the thin black slits of the window's blinds. The cool wind outside kicked up, pushing the blinds toward them. Gwen watched her, waiting while Domenique smoothed her tears into flat patches of moisture on her cheeks.

"Whoever it is," she continued, reaffixing her gaze on Gwen's, "Honestly, I don't believe it's a guy stalker, but I can't be sure of anything these days; so many psychos around just for the sake of being psychotic. But, let's say it's another woman; that waitress, she could be only like contact potential."

"Like what?" asked Gwen, brow furrowed, eyes dry, her face glistening under the lamp light.

"Contact potential," Domenique repeated before slowly closing into Gwen's lips, kissing them, and then circling random kisses to taste her lover's tears.

"You and I," whispered Domenique between kisses, "Are the lightening, the clouds and the ground. A third, a rose by another name, can get struck by virtue of her contact potential or she can just get missed by the bolt. But, you and I, we'll always have our electricity. We will have the clouds and ground of us to go back to, to dissipate and reintegrate our ions. Understand?"

"Jesus Christ no." laughed Gwen, beginning to return Domenique's gentle kisses, "I'm kidding. I understand. At least I think so. She... She can only engage in us, with us, from the outside of..."

"Of what?" asked Domenique, leaning back and searching Gwen's eyes.

"Outside of our love." Said Gwen, her tears resumed, "I love you Nique."

"I love you too Gwen."

"I'm sorry."

"I know baby. I know."

Their kissing continued as the night wore on; their lips warm, their cheeks wet, tacky and cool. Eventually, Domenique led Gwen back to her bed. In the darkness, they were one; two bodies with no space between; writhing like impassioned smooth scaled serpents, coiled in seething wet embrace. For hours, their tongues lapped lingeringly along and inside each other's sexes; wetting the sheets and perfuming the room with their intermingled pussy musk. Through those hours, Gwen and Domenique repeated their conviction to each other; kissing, whispering and panting the words over and over again, speaking them mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, in tingling ears and against their love gleaming clits. Ultimately, sleep took them; their bodies spooned, Gwen wrapped inside Domenique, their breathing just short of synchronous. 

It was Domenique who woke first; the sound of September doves cooing to each other, rousing her back to consciousness. Instantly alert, she raised her head and looked toward the bedroom's windows and saw the thin strips of gray blue dawn coming in. With her right hand, Domenique caressed the smooth swell of Gwen's hip, and then reached down to play with her pussy's hair. With a kiss, Gwen sighed awake. Whirling around, she pulled Domenique's face to hers and drank her in deeply, as if sleep and dream had kept them apart for days and days. Domenique indulged her while reaching dirty fingers into Gwen's lusciously dirty ass and squeezing her right cheek tight. But, they would not start the new day with another session of sex nor would they sleep in. They, simultaneously drained by and energized from their love, were simply starved. Gwen offered to make breakfast, but Domenique declined. Beyond that, there was only one option. The sun had just peeked over the horizon by the time Gwen and Domenique had risen from the bed, speedily freshened up, brushed, dressed hurriedly in whatever they'd found on the floor and left the apartment to see what the diner might have to offer that morning.



Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 03



Gwen and Domenique took their first sips of coffee that morning, corrupting the lingering taste of each other's pussies and the toothpaste they'd brushed with earlier. The lovers, deciding to avoid returning to the corner booth they sat in the first time they'd been in the diner together, took two stools at the far end of the counter. It was busy that Sunday morning, at least more so than that first time they'd eaten there together. Another waitress, a woman in her early fifties, brought them coffee and menus. Gwen and Domenique discreetly scanned the long room, but their original query was no where to be seen. Glancing at each other, they exchanged furtive looks of resignation, and resumed the perusal of their menus. Presently, her mind made up, Gwen raised her gaze from her menu and instantly blushed as she saw their original waitress. She'd just rounded the corner beyond the counter that led from the kitchen; stopping short, her own complexion turning a pinker shade of tan. 

Seeing her bright blue eyes again made Gwen recall how she'd seen them that morning; wide and peeking through the narrow space between the ladies room stall and its door while she and Domenique rubbed a couple off together for the first time, starved for each other, for the friction and the release. Was she a voyeur in practice, Gwen wondered, or was it her first time too? The waitress was as pretty as she'd remembered: lean yet apple figured, with breasts large enough not to ignore but not so large that they elicited gawking. Her shining blonde hair was parted in the center, most of which was bound up in an aesthetically messy ponied bun at the back of her head, while two evenly symmetrical locks framed her oval face, the curled ends of which hugged the sides of her chin and lines of her jaw. The last thing Gwen noticed before finally looking away was the gleaming stud hanging from the outside of her left eye brow.

Noticing that Domenique hadn't noticed, Gwen quietly cleared her throat and tapped the tip of her shoe against her ankle. Domenique glanced immediately to her right, caught sight of the obviously flustered waitress, smiled, and then gave her a small wave. The waitress cleared her own throat then, nodded in polite acknowledgement, and quickly stepped out from behind the counter.

"Oh my goodness," whispered Domenique, "What a pretty thing she's done with her hair."

"Hmm, I thought you'd like that."

They watched as the young woman walked briskly to the far end of the diner, and attend to a family that happened to be in the corner booth. Presently, the lovers looked away, related to each other what they'd order, closed their menus and sipped more of their coffees. Gwen glanced over her shoulder for another vantage, and saw that the waitress was talking to the older woman who had brought their coffee. White, she thought, remembering what Domenique had told her, wasn't a color. It was a value, a treatment, a means of lightening color. Lightening, charged ions; electric tingling, white lightening, the sight of the moon shining along Domenique's ass, white fingers and the back of a stranger's hands creeping up her thigh, crossing the crease of her right cheek, trailing the humid clef of her sweet baby's ass. White was friendship, truce, surrender, clean contact... Contact potential; roses are white. Our pussies are pink. We'll open the chain and take in your link. Gwen smiled inwardly and a little nervously, still amusing herself with her little poems.

"So; ladies." Said the young waitress, three or so years younger than either Domenique or Gwen, "Haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm surprised you remember us." Said Domenique as Gwen's gaze switched between her lover and the waitress, "I bet like hundreds of people pass through here every day." 

On the drive over, Gwen had asked how they'd approach the waitress, if she happened to be on that day. Domenique stated that they'd play it by ear. Now, in the moment, Gwen realized that she was taking her usual passive role of quiet observer while Domenique worked to make things happen, doing the conversation steering for them both.

"I do," answered the waitress, pulling out a pad and pen from her breast pocket and glancing quickly around them, "But there are always some folks that stand out; one way or another."

"I'm flattered, I think. How about you Gwen? You flattered?"

Surprised, but no less speechless, Gwen shot rapid glances between Domenique and the waitress before nodding and humming a quiet affirmation.

"Funny," said the waitress, locking eyes with Gwen, "I don't remember you being this shy."

Gwen's eye brows seem to dance a crooked two step as she blushed. Domenique tried to hide her smile, but failed and got a solid punch in the arm for it.

"So what can we get for you this morning?" asked the waitress, making some effort to calm her smile.

"Well..." laughed Domenique as she rubbed her shoulder.

They gave their orders: Domenique would have the four by four; two scrambled eggs, two pancakes, two slices of bacon and two links of sausage, and Gwen would have a short stack of blueberry pancakes with a side of grits.

"Please don't embarrass me in front of her anymore." Whispered Gwen after the waitress left.

"Relax Gwen." Suggested Domenique between sips of her coffee, "I've got an idea, but it'll require a little patience and forgiveness from you. Trust me; you won't end up being the only one I embarrass."

"Oh my God Nique, " Gwen hissed, "What are you planning?"

"I said relax! Believe me: whatever happens in the next ten minutes or so will be worth a little loss of dignity. I'm betting that she's as good as yours, ours."

"Really? And what about your dignity?"

"Oh it'll be intact. Come on; I'm shameless."

That was true, thought Gwen as she breathed a great breath. Relax she says. Gwen sipped more of her coffee and then scanned the diner once more; trying to perhaps convey that she was truly relaxed. But, she wasn't. Fear, hunger, apprehension and desire flapped their sharp wings against the walls and pit of her stomach. Then, there she was again, their waitress, re-filling their mugs.

"What have you guys been up to?" she said, her attention on the topping off of Domenique's cup.

"Oh, a little this, a little that, " answered Domenique, "Making film recordings of our high jinx for posterity."

That was when Gwen went wide eyed, noticing that Domenique had withdrawn her camera from the inside of her denim jacket and turned it on. Oh Jesus no Nique! Oh my God! Seriously? 

"Oh!" smiled the waitress as she stepped back to return the pot of coffee to its burner, "You guys into photography?"

"Yeah, at least we like to pretend anyway; by taking pictures."

"Me too. " the waitress laughed, meeting Domenique's and then Gwen's gaze, "I mean, I like looking at pictures."

"Yeah?" said Domenique as she extended her Olympus, "Here. Check this out."

"Nique,you shit!" Gwen hissed as she tried to reach for the camera she'd handed to the waitress.

The waitress took the camera, glancing at Gwen and then at Domenique. Then she looked at the shot that Domenique had selected for her, and had blushed again. Gwen lifted herself up from her seat as the waitress assessed whether there were any other direct on lookers, and turned to see, in the view finder frame, the shot Domenique had taken of her laying on her bed, her ass in full view, painted in stripes of golden sunlight.

"What do you think?"

"I think," she answered, clearing her throat again, "I think it's awesome ."

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

The waitress glanced nervously at Gwen and nodded.

"She is."

"Oh my god, this is so embarrassing. Would you mind giving the camera back? Domenique? Please, would you take it back?"

"Okay, okay, hand it over Uh..."

"Tina." Said the waitress, looking each of them in the eye as she said it.

"Please Tina, before my little friend gets anymore upset."

"Hold on. " said Tina, taking it upon herself to arrow through a few other shots, "These are really great. Oh my goodness; that's... Very interesting."

Then, before Tina, smiling and engrossed, was even aware of it, Domenique had deftly snatched her camera back and robbed the waitress of her order pad and pen. Both she and Gwen stared wide eyed as Domenique pocketed her camera, casually tore a sheet from the pad, turned it over and proceeded to write Gwen's name and cell number.

"You ever feel like joining our photo club," said Domenique as she tucked the pad, pen and inscribed note into Tina's breast pocket, "Just give us a call."

Tina, flushed for the third time, quickly looked around the room at the other patrons seated at the counter, and then reaffixed her gaze on Domenique. Then she turned to assess Gwen, and her expression softened.

"Yeah," said Tina, a sudden smirk creeping around her lips, "Maybe I'll just do that. Your orders will be up in a minute."

Tina stepped out from behind the counter and went to check on her other customers. Domenique, seeming satisfied and as self assured as usual, drank more of her coffee. Gwen saw her smile in her periphery, huffed, and then took the opportunity to punch Domenique a second time.

"How about my pussy?" said a half naked Tina from her end of the Face Time call, "Can I show you that next?"

It was a matter of three days before Tina first rang Gwen. Among the usual points of conversation, Tina probed into Gwen and Domenique's inclination toward exhibition. Gwen stated that they didn't exactly have one, and Tina confessed that she had touched herself while indulging in concupiscent reflection over the event on a number of occasions, and that they should try it again sometime. Through the next month of phone calls, friendly lunch dates, texts, e-mails and Face Time chats, some one to one, others two to one, a friendly cohesion was established. Tina was initially put off by the prospect of submitting herself for testing. But, knowing she couldn't poly pal around with them without it, she made it happen. Now, their perspectives clarified, the sex partner plot point highs and lows of their pasts discussed or otherwise legible on their FaceBooks, the ice was broken and melting fast. All that was left was for Tina's STD tests to come in negative, so that their Face Time voyeurist exhibitions could go live; skin to skin to skin.

"I don't know." Answered Gwen from where she sat cross legged on her living room rug; dressed in just a loose pair of green sweat pants and a pink tank top, "I'm not sure it would be fair, since Nique's not here."

Scissors in hand, having apologized to Tina if she seemed a bit distracted, Gwen's gaze bounced from the half dressed woman on her iPad's screen and to the coupon she was preparing to clip. She'd shown Tina all of the Sunday news paper retail inserts that flanked her, and Tina chided her for being Domenique's practical penny pinching little home body.

"Although, " she continued, "I can't stop you from doing what you want, there , in the otherwise private privacy of your own home. But I feel that I should inform you that I can kind of already see it through those tight bike shorts you've got on."

"Really?" said Tina as she looked down at herself, between her huge yet impressively firm and buoyant tits, "Oh yeah, I guess you're right.

Between clippings, Gwen had watched her playmate slowly roll her nipples between her fore fingers and thumbs and flick their two jeweled loop piercings. The eye brow ring had been exotic enough for Gwen, but the sight of the nipple rings, the thought of the pain and the pleasure, had set her clit atwitch on more than a few occasions. Initially, through the process of getting to know each other, the three women had developed a light hearted rhythm of sexual banter, which had only just recently evolved into a higher level of salaciousness. Domenique had allowed Tina to see some really elicit pictures at the diner that morning, but no more since. Now came the tease, as Domenique, as she'd stroll around naked; crossing the Face Time view just long enough or close enough for Tina to see a little hip or leg. It was Tina that started wearing less and less until finally exposing her wonderful tits first to Domenique four Face Time sessions ago.

Now, session number five having only just started, Gwen was seeing her beautiful tits for the third time; and the longer she looked, the hotter she became. Tina, her Straight shoulder length hair unbound, had a knack for positioning herself in such a way that her entire body fit within the Face Time view field, cropped like one of those amateur Polaroids in the back of a Hustler. She'd gotten Gwen quite slick during that afternoon's conversation; gazing into her eyes as she fondled and sucked the nipple of one enormous breast and then the other, spreading her legs far enough apart so that Gwen could clearly tell her outer from her inner labia and discovered that her clit too was pierced. Gwen began to feel the coolness of airy space in the crotch of her sweat pants and the moistened parting of her pussy's swelling lips as she looked upon the sight of the obvious protrusion, maybe a little barbell sort of thing, that cast a pretty little smile of a shadow and sent a humming tingle up her spine and down through to her toes.

"Well," Tina continued, "Are you okay then with me, you know, taking it upon myself to show you my pussy or..."

"Or?" Gwen repeated, tucking clipped coupons into a # 10 envelope.

"Or are you afraid to get dirty with me while Domenique's not around?"

"I can get dirty with you whether Nique is here or not."

"I bet she's there, somewhere out of my line of sight." Probed Tina, smiling slyly as she gently massaged her big tits.

Gwen carefully picked up her iPad Air and its case, and then showed Tina a slow pan of her apartment. Then, setting it back down before her, she said:

"You want to show me your pussy? Fine then Tina. Let's see it."

Gwen set her scissors down, giving Tina her full attention. Tina's smile suddenly disappeared. Slowly, she caressed her way down the length of her belly to the waist band of her shorts. Gwen looked at the creamy tan skin between Tina's pink painted nails and the bright red horizon of red spandex. She knew that Tina had also pierced her belly button, but it stared back at her now, a naked serpentine coiled little outy of a sun. Down went Tina's fingers as Gwen's gaze shifted from her waistband, to her smoking blue eyes and back down again. In the next instant, Tina's hands were concealed behind the red spandex; pushing the material out so that she could spread her lips and rub her clit without revealing her pussy. Oh you're funny, thought Gwen, a sly smile now on her face. You don't want to risk upsetting Domenique. 

"Tell me what you're gonna' do to me Gwen." Asked Tina as her lovely breasts jiggled to the rhythm of her jilling finger's gyrations.

"Well..." Gwen sang, pushing the left strap of her tank top to reveal most of one breast, "I'm going to sit on your pretty face and eat that pussy your playing with. I'll also be busy holding your legs apart so that Domenique can get a good field of access in order to stick her tongue into your tight little ass hole."

That is of course, thought Gwen, if your tests come back negative.

"Then, after I've come all over your face, and you've come in my mouth, and after your juices have dripped down onto Domenique's ass reaming tongue, I'm going to strap on my big purple cock and fuck that pussy until you beg me to fuck you in your ass. And then; I'm going to fuck your ass until you cry and we both come."

"Oh my God!" sighed Tina, her eyes closed, her pelvis twitching, "Oh, ooooooh yeah, mmmmmmmmm, I want you Gwen!"

"I want you Tina." Smiled Gwen as she watched Tina bring herself to orgasm, her breasts bouncing every which way.

"I want you Domenique! " Tina whimpered, as she rode the peak of her orgasm, "Oh yeah. Oh yeah! Oh..." Mmmmmmm, fuck, yes! Oh my God, mmmm, mmmm."

Minutes later, Gwen and Tina bid each other pleasant good nights. After closing the call, Gwen locked her iPad's screen, flipped its case's cover closed, set the device aside, and then picked up another circular.

"She puts on a good show?" 

"She does." Answered Gwen, slipping her fingers back into her scissor's grips.

Domenique was seated in the kitchen, at the far end of the table, out of Gwen's sight. It was where she normally threw her mail. It was Saturdays mail. She had a date with Domenique, so only looked at it passingly. There it remained into the next morning, for Domenique to sift through and discover their copy of Tina's STD test results. She'd actually convinced her general to have one sent to Gwen's address. Roses are three, you, she and me. I'll watch you fuck her and then she'll eat me.

"How'd you like that control?" asked Domenique, still from her seat in the kitchen.

"I liked it." She answered, cutting out a coupon for K Y jelly in a perfect rectangle, "It was nice. Do you think she really knew you were here?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever. She's a trip though."

"Yep. Did you open up her results?"

"Yep."

"And?"

"She's clean."

"Okay." Gwen sighed as she gathered up her coupons and skeletal inserts and circulars, feeling somehow relieved and yet anxious at the same time, "I have to say, she really made me horny just then."

"Oh, well, can I show you my pussy?"

"Yes please." Replied Gwen as she got up and made her way toward the kitchen.

They hooked up with Tina the following Thursday night at the Polo club; an LGBTQ friendly place on Maple Avenue. Domenique hinted that she wanted to see their date wearing her hair in the manner she'd worn the morning they'd approached her. Tina had obliged, though the back was a little more pony and a little less messy. Both Gwen and Domenique were visibly struck by how beautiful Tina was; her face glowing yet hardly made up, her body costumed in an angular sort of coral hued single strap cocktail dress that seemed to simultaneously pronounce yet minimize the fact of her hefty breasts, accentuate her hips and feature her sexy legs. Gwen and Domenique were looking sexy in their own right, though dressed more casually: Gwen in an olive blouse, khaki slacks and brown flats, and Domenique wearing a curve hugging wrap top, tight black jeans and low black heels. 

They found a table, the only table left, near a bevy of drag queens and their court. The trio ordered drinks and casually sipped as they tried to talk in spite of the din of music and other shouted conversations. From the club's speakers blared the end of one song's fusion into the beginning of another; something top 40, deep bass pulsing, melodious yet sharp and nuanced with mechanic sounding buzzes, clicks, all and chirps under a young woman's heart felt laments. Whatever it was, it had inspired Tina to find Gwen's hand and pull her toward the dance floor. 

There they remained together for two songs; their bodies and hair bouncing in rhythmic tandem, adrift in a rough sea of circling species and schools of glittered spandex, bling, dazzle, solid black and comfortable queer. Between musical lulls, Gwen looked for Domenique. Her first pass found her alone, waiting, sipping her drink. On the next pass, she was being chatted up by someone who seemed familiar to Gwen; a tall woman with red hair, maybe someone from the shoe store Domenique managed. In stead of looking a third time, she found Tina's hand and began to tug it back toward the direction of their table. Tina smiled, wagged her head, and then pointed over Gwen's shoulder. She turned and saw that Domenique had joined them. Gwen searched her eyes, drew her lover in close, and then kissed her wetly on the mouth.

The trio stayed in the club for a while longer, the music to their liking and the night being young. So Domenique, Gwen and Tina danced, bodies in rhythmic tune; warming, touching, sweating and sneaking gentle three-way kisses, until their bodies were tingling reminders of their agenda. They headed to their cars, met up at the closest 24 hour Super Wal-Mart, goofed around as they shopped for the freshest midnight snacks they could find, and then headed to Gwen's apartment.




Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 03



It was a quarter to one when Gwen unlocked her door, and let the others in. Advancing into the living room while Domenique headed into the kitchen with their bags, Gwen felt as if something had changed. It was quiet, which was a given: it was late. But, Tina's sudden silence and slow stroll around the knickknack and print exhibits of her living room, brought a tension into the air that seemed to make the quiet palpable. Tina turned to face Gwen, and clasped her hands before her. Gwen smiled. Tina didn't: not at first. They both turned toward the sound of Domenique popping a bottle of wine open, and then reaffixed their gazes. It was then, blushing, Tina returned the smile. 

I think she's nervous, thought Gwen as she slipped out of her flats, now that we're about to get into the here and now. I think she doesn't know which of us she wants to have more. Gwen broke the look, dropping to collect her shoes and set them by the front door. Lightening strikes, sang her memory of the Fleetwood Mack song, maybe once, maybe twice, and it all comes down to you. Hmm, maybe she already knows who she wants more. Maybe she's afraid to let it show. Maybe there's one of us she won't ever want as much.

"Relax Tina." Said Domenique as she entered the room with a bottle of white wine and three rinsed glasses, "Gwen? Coax that girl out of her shoes, would you?"

Domenique crossed between them and set the wine and glasses on the coffee table. Both Gwen and Tina watched her as she took a seat on the sofa and proceeded to fill each glass. For a moment, neither moved. Then Tina finally kicked out of her shoes, gathered them up, and then walked them to the other side of the front door. Or maybe she's so intimidated by Nique, Gwen thought, that she's not sure who she's supposed to want. Gwen turned suddenly and found that Domenique had gotten back on her feet, and was handing her a glass of the wine. In the split second before Tina returned and was given the next glass, Gwen and Domenique's eyes were locked. Take control, they said in all their magnetic amber loving fierceness, make her yours.

"Cheers." Said Tina.

"Wait." Insisted Gwen as she turned to look to see that Tina was just about to drink, "Before we toast ourselves, that pretty dress will have to come off too."

Blushing, Tina lowered her glass. She stood there, beyond the coffee table, unmoving; seconds passing.

"You wanted to show me your pussy." Gwen continued, "Well now I want to see it."

Tina glanced briefly at Domenique before setting her glass down. The look seemed to Gwen as if she was seeking her approval. A sudden spark of anger caught in the pit of her belly, singeing her fluttering ardor as the flame smoldered. She placed her glass down as well and remained standing as she and Domenique watched Tina slip out of her dress. An instant later, a bright coral petaled carnation of party dress surrounded Tina's feet. Next came the bra, its large cups parachuting to the carpet. Tina, her thumbs under the sides of her high cut white panties, paused then before removing them. Gwen and Domenique watched Tina's blush travel down along her neck and along her chest while her bejeweled nipples swelled to three times their normal size. Tina stared back at them, shifting her gaze from one to the other. Presently, she began to slowly peel her panties, moving her hands with deliberate fluid slides and rolls until her cleanly shaven smooth pink pussy was fully exposed; its white gold yin yang pendent pierced clit peeking from within its curtain's clef. Gwen's pussy tingled from the sight. She turned to see what Domenique thought, and saw that, though she was seated like some news talk show host, her cheeks had become pink. 

"Give me those." Demanded Gwen.

Tina bent over, removed the panties, and then walked them to Gwen. Gwen took them in both hands; spreading the material with her fingers until the crotch faced her.

"How does this smell to you?" she asked, bringing the soiled patch in close to Tina's nose.

Tina met Gwen's unblinking gaze, brought her nose against her panties, and then took in an assessing sniff.

"If you don't mind my saying so," said Tina, "It's definitely worth tasting, at least my pussy is anyway. 

Gwen pulled them back and sniffed for herself. Unable to disagree, she tossed them to Domenique, gave Tina back her glass, and then took her own.

"To us then.: she said, raising her glass, the disdain in her eyes now softened with renewed, naked desire. 

Domenique joined their toast, drank deeply and then excused herself. Gwen watched Tina watching Domenique leave, and then reach up to start undoing her blouse. Gwen looked down at Tina's busy fingers, and then raised her gaze to see her full lips coming in for a kiss. Tina's mouth never left Gwen's over the time it took her to remove her blouse and bra. Her breasts exposed, they dragged them across each other's in a languorous crisscross until Gwen felt compelled to take hold of Tina's and start lapping at her huge nipples. Tina joined her, tasting her own tits, spreading the shining slickness of Gwen's hunger with her own. It's you, thought Gwen, you are our third white rose; soft, fragrant, so tasty to the touch. Presently, Domenique, dressed in a pink nightie, returned with a box of their play things, and the fruit and vegetable trays they'd purchased earlier.

"It's snack time?" asked Tina, picking her wine back up and swallowing a mouthful.

"Absolutely." Smiled Domenique as she unfurled a checked table cloth and spread it on the space of floor beyond the coffee table, "Now drink up. You too Gwen."

So they drank, both Gwen and Tina's fluctuating between bewilderment and fear. Shrugging, Gwen reached for the bottle, and then re-filled their glasses. As Gwen drank, Tina went about relieving her of her slacks and panties. Tossing them away, and taking a few seconds to breathe in the fragrance of Gwen's pussy, Tina went back to drinking up. Meanwhile, Domenique had arranged their toys and the food trays in the center of the cloth. Finally, she took a seat at the far end and invited the others to sit along either side.

"Ladies," she announced, "We're going to start our play with a round of guess what's in your pussy."

Gwen went suddenly wide eyed.

"Oh my God," cried Tina, "I haven't played this in so long!"

Gwen couldn't get her eyes any wider at that point, and Domenique couldn't help but laugh at the sight of her. Gwen downed the rest of her glass, and then watched as she withdrew a blind fold from the pile of toys.

"Oh, me first!" giggled Tina as she snagged the blind fold from Domenique's grip.

"Fine then. Gwen? You can pick the first item once Tina's eyes are covered."

"They're covered. But, I was wondering; could one of you eat my pussy a little first, you know, for some natural lubrication, celery sticks can be a little rough, and I'll try to guess who's doing the licking. What do you think?"

Domenique's brow furrowed as she met Gwen's perplexed stare. Together, they shrugged.

"Okay." Said Domenique, rising to her feet and gesturing for Gwen to follow.

They tossed Tina a cushion from the couch, walked a series of figure eights, stopped to drink more wine, and then figured eight three more times. By the time they were done, Tina had made herself comfortable, her pink pussy spread ready. As Domenique went to pop a cd into the stereo, Gwen chose a baby carrot, and then assumed the position between Tina's open legs. Setting the root vegetable aside, she Gently parted Tina's major labia for a better view, marveled at its beauty for a time, and then brought her tongue in for the first taste. Tina began to shiver instantly. As slowly as she could manage, Gwen carefully licked Tina's hardening clit and the white gold yin yang pendent that hung from it, but her shivering couldn't be helped. Gwen thought she'd come in no time until Tina shuddered and exclaimed.

"Gwen's eating my pussy, isn't she?"

"How'd you know?" asked Domenique as she looked on.

"I guessed; figuring that the first time with you would be, I don't know, rougher?"

"Hmm." Sighed Domenique, "Alright then. That's one point for you. Okay Gwen, stick it in there."

So Gwen did; going about the insertion quite gingerly until Tina's pussy swallowed it up, as if something hungry thing living inside snatched it.

"Oh my God this is so easy." She said as she used her muscles to poke it back out, "It's a baby carrot."

"That's right. Said Domenique as she chose a piece of broccoli from the veggie tray, "Now Gwen gets to eat it."

Not wanting to be a party pooper, but still feeling a bit strange, Gwen started to bite off chunks of the shining carrot. After taking the last bite, she moved aside for Domenique and her piece of broccoli. Tina got that too, and of course Domenique had to eat it all. Which she did, willingly, and then went above and beyond; dining on Tina's pussy as if it was some kind of cocaine laced ice cream. Gwen was wrestling with her jealousy as Tina began to wiggle her hips and buck into Domenique's dripping chin. 

Tina, wallowing in her after glow, removed the blind fold and watched as Domenique slipped out of her nightie. Having no idea that Tina would turn out to be a champion guess what's in your pussy player, Domenique decided to switch it up to a game of guess what's in your ass. At that, it turned out, Tina was a total failure. They'd taken iPad videos of defeat after defeat; and Tina, being the loser, had to eat all of her wrong guesses out of either Domenique's or Gwen's ass. Eventually, the food trays cleared, a second bottle of wine opened and the footage of Tina ass dining reviewed, the giggling idiot trio drank a glass more each before arranging themselves in a daisy chain on the checkered table cloth.

The three lovers, Domenique to Tina, Tina to Gwen and Gwen to Domenique; stroked, fondled, pet and caressed one another's most animal parts. The Always wipes were passed, the deepest, sweetest recesses of their morsel treasures polished, were then dined upon; savored, sucked and nibbled. All three were rapturously oblivious to the world outside their mouths, pussies and assholes, juice drenched and tongue wagging until their daisies began to hum in a chain reaction. It was Gwen, her tongue and fingers digging deep into Domenique's ass, that had the trigger orgasm. She couldn't tell what Tina was eating, her pussy or her ass hole. She only knew the speeding locomotive that was the coming climax her new lover induced. Next came Domenique's shivering fits. They were so intense that Gwen could hardly keep her tongue where she wanted it. Then Tina, fucking Domenique's face for a second time, whimpered, moaned and whispered the beautifully filthy truth of their desires against Gwen's pulsing clit. Then, finally, they cried together, panting, squealing, humping; spraying one another's faces with quick jet after jet of finely streaming come.

By the witching hour, the three lovers were each still aching for more. It was then that Domenique tossed Gwen the jock harness and the purple dildo. As Gwen strapped in, she saw that Domenique was fitting herself into the thong harness. Scanning the space of floor beside the box of toys, Gwen saw that Domenique had purchased another dildo, which was an inch or so longer, maybe a half inch wider than Mr. Purple and otherwise bright pink. She instructed Tina to get on her knees. Somewhat reluctant, but still all smiles, Tina obliged her. Next, after Domenique positioned herself behind Tina, she asked Gwen to get behind her. Presently the lube was passed and the request to start by fucking their pussies was made. One into the other, into the other, a slow rhythm was set; reminding Gwen of the train that had plowed right through her not fifteen minutes before. In that way they fucked and were fucked, working, sweating, gripping asses tight. 

It was Domenique who came first then, riding her second wave of orgasm as she pulled her cock gently out from Tina's pussy. Gwen looked over Domenique's shoulder, and seeing that she had begun working the dildo's big pink head into Tina's ass, she followed suit. Slowly, she withdrew her false cock from Domenique's pussy, grabbed the lube and spread a squirt of it liberally on its tip and on the business fingers of her right hand. Gwen then tossed it aside, and proceeded to work her fingers into Domenique's anus. One, two, three, open wide baby; momma's gonna' give it to you good. Out with her fingers and in with her cock's head, Gwen realized that she'd been aching for Domenique's surrender. Roses are white. Nique's now my bitch, and I'll scratch Tina too, if she's got the itch. Gwen watched herself guide her dildo slowly deeper and deeper into Domenique's ass. In time, a new rhythm was established. Gwen felt it in Domenique's hips, picked it up, and then rolled with it; fucking her number one lover's ass deeper, faster and rougher. Gwen could hear Tina getting the same; listening to her whimper and cry, not exactly sure if the young woman was in pain or pleasure and no longer certain if there was any difference anymore. All Gwen knew, as she squeezed Domenique's tits, kissed her shoulders and listened to her whine with pleasure as she rammed her ass, was that they were now equal in all respects.

The next thing Gwen knew, after the dildos withdrawn, the toys set aside and the extra lube wiped up, was that they fell asleep together, arms and legs akimbo, on the thoroughly soiled table cloth. The next thing after that, after they'd eventually woken up to pee, Gwen realized that they'd moved the sleep over to her bed room. There they continued their sleep, exhausted, spent, content. The three white roses weren't brought up until they'd shared a breakfast of omelets and left over fruit.

"I can assure you guys that I did not drop those roses off to you." Tina affirmed between mouthfuls of broccoli and cheese omelet, "Hey, were any of these vegetables in anybody's ass last night? I mean, it's cool. I'd just like to know."

Seated along either side of the kitchen table, Domenique and Gwen exchanged serious looks before staring, perfectly flummoxed, at Tina.

"What?" she said after swallowing her last bite, "I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?"



Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 04



The Color Of Truth

When Domenique Louisa Esposito was a little girl, her real name was Domenica and her pops used to leave her at his strip club when he needed a baby sitter. Pops and Momma Esposito, A K A Tony and Lala, in spite of running a clean, reputable business, lost favor with the families in their Italian and Polish neighborhood once they found out about the place. So the Esposito's sitter options were limited to Tony's most immediate circle: his dancers, the girls whose shift coincided with the times Tony had to attend to Lala's medical needs. 

Mrs. Esposito's Multiple Sclerosis had been manageable for years. But, after her flare up in the winter of 94, she'd began to require nearly constant care. Tony could have afforded more help, but he chose to do most of it alone. Domenica, Sunday in Italian, the day she was born, had done her best to help, feeding her mother pureed chicken, until Lala started staring at her daughter like she was some freakish little creature. One afternoon, the last afternoon, Lala, chicken dribbling from her lips, had found enough strength to take the bowl of chicken slop and drive it into Domenica's stricken face. After that, Domenica told her Pops that she never wanted to be in that house alone with that lady because that lady wasn't Momma. That lady was a real ghost that was haunting the house in Momma's body. 

So, Domenica came more and more to be under the care and watchful eyes of Tony's girls. Not just any of the girls, but the one's like Heather, that had been with him since he'd first opened the place, a two thousand square foot store front between a supermarket and a sub shop in a strip mall just off the Saltonstall Turnpike. There was May, Roberta, Viv, Star Light (nice enough, but wouldn't give anyone her real name) Britney, Natasha and Heather. Heather was the nicest, the prettiest, the toughest, the funniest, who liked to take Saturday afternoon shifts with her, and knew how to draw horses really well. 

"So your pops dropped you off early today." Said Heather as she colored in the page of Strawberry Shortcake coloring book Domenica ripped out for her.

"Yup." Said Domenica, "Carefully filling in Blueberry's skirt, "The lady had to go for a doctor's appointment."

Heather paused and looked across the table to search her seven year old charge's eyes. The table where they sat was in the far corner of the shared dressing room, in view of the first bank of lockers. To the left was a wall upon which hung the shift schedule and booth assignment board. Beyond that was the building's rear exit. To the right was the narrow hallway that led to the stage, bar, tables and show booths. It was the afternoon shift. There were only three dancers for the lunch crowd, and the music wasn't as loud as it could be for the night shift. Still, strains of Kix, Poison, Warrant and Def Leppard could be heard coming from down the hallway. 

"That lady," said Heather, "is your mom. You understand that, right?"

"I understand that lady took my mom." Domenica answered, peering up from her coloring book, a shining look of certainty in her big brown eyes, "And if you don't eat and drink the right stuff, in stead of all those candy bars and diet cokes, you might become one of those ladies."

"You're right," sighed Heather, "I'll start tomorrow."

"You said that two days ago."

"Oh. So I did."

A click of high heels turned their attention toward the hallways's opening. It was Shelley, one of the latest hires, naked but for her heels, heading to her locker. Domenica was suddenly riveted, her mouth agape. Heather, incensed, was also riveted as she watched the nude woman withdraw a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse, close the locker, and then stroll up to the schedule board. The protocol Heather and Tony established was that when Domenica was present, the dancers were to robe up as soon as they got off the stage. They'd made it easy; installing a long wall mounted strip of hooks just off the stage's exit, from which they were to hang their robes for when they were going on their breaks. 

"Uh, hello!" exclaimed Heather, "Go back down that hallway and get your robe on."

Domenica continued to stare, paying particular attention to Shelley's fastidiously trimmed black haired pussy.

"Relax." She sang, "I was checking the booth schedule-"

"Get your robe on I said." Heather insisted.

"Fuck you, okay?" said Shelley, looking away.

It was one thing, to Heather, for one to not acknowledge one's mistake. It was entirely another to be a rude, arrogant bitch about it. So Shelley left Heather no choice but to unsheathe her throwing knife from her boot scabbard, aim the six inch blade and throw it. It took Heather the span of two seconds to make the single motion and hit her mark, and then another eight for Shelley to realize that a sharp knife had in deed flown past her, lodged in the cork bulletin board before her and left a trickle of blood to start flowing from across the bridge of her nose.

"And I suggest you watch your mouth too." Said Heather, her words measured, her tone flat, "Dom? Why don't you go to the bathroom?"

"I don't have to go."

"Please go to the bathroom."

She did; crossing the room, locking the door behind her. With her ear to the door, Domenica didn't hear much, not at first. It started to sound as if Shelley was crying. She wondered if Heather was going to fire her. Still, Domenica listened. There came more voices from down the hall to the stage. The voices got louder. The Def Leppard song was stopped short. Then there were more voices, the other dancers, lockers opening or closing, the rear exit creaking open and slamming back shut. Suddenly there was a knock on the bathroom door. Domenica jumped back.

"Domenica?" said a woman, a voice she didn't know, "Domenica, I'm Mrs. Corber. I'm from the Department of Children and Family services. It's really important that I talk to you. Please open the door. Honey?"

"Honey? Nique?"

"Hmm?" Huh? "

"You're not twitching." Gwen said from between Domenique's open legs; the slick on her cheeks shining from the light of the full moon beyond the bedroom window, "Your clit's not even hard. What's wrong?"

The memories had been intense enough to lure her away from devoting her full concentration to Gwen's trying to help her get to sleep. Looking at her now, Domenique watched as Gwen lay her head upon her thigh, dressing it in a cascade of black hair. Her eyes caressed the distance from the lobes of her lover's ass and her long smooth legs and to the moon light dappled cushion pads of the bottoms of her feet beyond.

"I'm sorry." Domenique softly spoke, "How about I do you. That'll get me going." Okay, but I want to try something new."

"Like what??" asked Domenique, stroking Gwen's hair.

Gwen tilted her head upward, her smiling eyes catching the moon light again.

"Go wash your hands so you can fist me."

Domenique returned to find that Gwen had laid herself supine, her silver bullet and the tube of lube by her side, her legs open. She'd never fisted Gwen before, so was a bit uneasy as she crawled between her lover's legs. Domenique grabbed the lube, flipped the cap, and then very liberally painted her entire right hand until past the wrist. After capping the lube and tossing back, Domenique carefully worked her pointer and middle fingers into Gwen's pink temple. Once inside, she began to twist her fingers, spreading the lube inside Gwen's sugar walls; pausing to give her G spot a little love. Seconds later, Domenique brought her ring and pinky fingers into play and slowly eased the quartet in until her middle finger rang the doorbell of Gwen's cervix. Gwen's answer was to reach for her bullet, turn it on low, and then proceed to stimulate her clit. Domenique then withdrew her fingers and turned her hand just enough so that her upward facing thumb went under the arch of Gwen's introitus. In measured gestures, Domenique worked her hand deeper. Gwen, her bullet's speed still on low, began to simmer in her own natural juices, bucking slightly in rhythm to her lover's thrusting open hand. Domenique let three more thrusts pass before she tried to make the fist. 1, 2, 3, she turned and tried to close her hand, until she saw the look of pain on Gwen's face.

"Wait." She breathed.

Domenique waited. Gwen resumed her slow fuck of the curled fingers of Domenique's hand; her pussy swallowing it to the very wrist.

"Turn it some more." Gwen whispered as she slightly increased the speed of her bullet, "That's it; again, yeah, again, oh Nique, I love you, I love you baby, one more, yes... Mmmmmm. Mmmmmmm. Now try it."

She did, slowly curling her fingers the rest of the way until she heard a sound like cheesecake being forked apart from within the depth of Gwen's holy hole. In that instant, Gwen jerked and winced. Domenique stopped; trying to tighten her fist so that it might somehow shrink to a more comfortable size.

"Open it," said Gwen, "Slow. Good. Close it again. Open it again. Okay. Yes, yesssssssssss. Now, easy, turn it slow, again, more. Oh fuck! Yes Nique! Yes my baby; just like that, just like that. Oh I love it. I fucking love it."

With a sudden rush of bucking excitement, Gwen came. As the wave subsided, Domenique began to slowly withdraw her sopping hand, turning it as she did, and sending Gwen into another rapture of orgasm. Finally, her chest still heaving, Gwen shut off her bullet and laid it aside. Domenique, her eyes on Gwen's peaceful expression, slowly extruded her fist the rest of the way, and then began to lather her lover's pussy hair with the slick paint of her fingers. Domenique would let Gwen enjoy her after glow as she wiped away the mess of their dirty love, and then asked to be kindly fist fucked in return.

After another hour of sex, twenty or so minutes of pillow talk and more than a few hours of deep sleep, noon found the lovers lazing about Domenique's living room. Still naked, Gwen sat propped against a wall of pillows, reading the paper while Domenique lay between her open legs; her pubic hair trimming tools before her as she artfully shaped her lover's Venus mount into something iconic. After their tryst with Tina, Gwen proposed that one or the other should try the totally shaved look, but, Domenique vigorously protested. It was just a little too close to kiddy for her comfort. Still, Gwen was seeking some kind of compromise, so when Domenique came up with the option to have her pussy's hair custom sculpted, like those shrub statues of Mickey and the gang on the drive into Disney World, a deal was struck. Of course, Gwen's shrub was of the low laying variety, but Domenique would use the high contrast between her lover's pale pubic skin and black hair for maximum affect.

As Domenique worked her scissors, Gwen found their horoscopes and read them to herself.

Aquarius: It's a 7 out of 10 day. Building a romantic palace with a strong foundation of love is easy now. Invest time in planting a community garden rather than building a mote. Your compatible sign for today is Libra.

Libra: It's an 8 out of 10 day. Plan your next escape, destination, companion and event. Being productive pays, and so does researching the perfect deal. Mix business with pleasure. Your compatible sign for today is Aquarius.

"Hey, our horoscopes say we're compatible today!" announced Gwen.

"Again?" said Domenique as she combed and clipped, "We're defying the odds baby. The Goddesses are smiling down on us."

"I guess." Gwen Laughed.

"And what does our day look like, according to The Elm City Chronicle?"

"Oh it just says that since you are the woman for me and I am the woman for you, we can go ahead and invite Tina back for more frisky fun or; we can continue our search for our elusive third rose."

Domenique sighed. Gwen peered under her paper to assess her expression.

"I gather you want to fist some fruit deep inside our little friend?" Domenique intoned as she reached for a razor, "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"And why should I be that if you aren't; Ms. Let's take pictures of Tina eating food out of our assholes."

"Because at least one of us should have some moral fiber. Oh, and, you gotta admit; That was fun as Hell."

Gwen laughed again as she set The Chronicle aside and picked up The Advisor: a free local high lights and hot spots rag with a lot of personal adds. She knew neither of them could deny that they'd had a fantastic time fucking Tina; and though she wasn't their secret admirer or their third rose, that was no reason to stop seeing her. So, once Domenique came up with a list of items she believed Tina would have a Hell of a time identifying with her uncannily sensitive snatch, Gwen would call her back for another round of "Guess what's in your pussy." 

Yet, the question remained. Were the three white roses, now three beautiful desiccated husks ornamenting Domenique's kitchen, a harmless gift or some dark portents. Had the trio of white American Beauties been left on Domenique's door step as a genuine overture from a hungry heart, a random orphaned bouquet left by some sorry soul that had the wrong address or were they the taunt of some crazed maniac? The couple hadn't discussed the mystery much of late. Their lives, together or apart, were busy and entertaining enough. They'd adopted Tina, who'd developed a stray cat like coming and going; lingering long enough to lap up a little milk and snuggle between them for a night. It was obvious that Tina was no threat, physically or emotionally, but she didn't solve the mystery either. 

As Domenique worked her razors and shears, Gwen scanned through the pages and happened upon the personals section, and then, for giggles, proceeded to browse. SWM seeks SWF for strict sex. SBF seeks SWM for friendly fun. SWF seeks SWF who likes kids. SWR seeks SWR and SWR for a tag team three sisters match up.

"Holy shit." Gwen uttered.

"What? Asked Gwen, looking up.

Gwen read the add aloud. Their eyes met. Gwen's face betrayed nothing but amused astonishment while Domenique's face betrayed nothing. Domenique went back to work. Gwen's brow furrowed as she read the add again to herself. Three sisters, she thought, wasn't that what the Native Americans called it when they planted corn, beans and squash together? Roses are white; now here's a clue. Dare that we meet, your one to our two. Gwen noticed the code number associated with the add, folded the Advisor so that the personals page was in front, and then set it aside. 

"I know I should have told you this sooner," Domenique said as she brushed excess hair from Gwen's pussy to the sheet beneath her, "But you remember that night we met Tina at the Polo Club?"

Gwen nodded, immediately recalling the red head she'd seen chatting with Domenique as she danced with Tina.

"Well I was scoped out by none other than the nurse from the clinic."

"The one behind the desk?"

"Right. Anyway, after our mutual surprise to find each other there, she asked how things were going, and I informed her that they were going rather well."

"And?"

Domenique dabbed a damp cloth around her work, and then blew against Gwen's poking clit.

"And she lingered a little bit, saw you with Tina, raised an eye brow I seem to recall, and smiled. Then, she scanned the bar, said it was nice to see me and waved good bye as she headed to the bar."

"And you didn't bring this up sooner because?"

"Because I thought we'd found our third rose, silly."

"Right."

Finished with her work, Domenique sat up, set her tools aside, retrieved an oval mirror from the pile, and then set it up so that Gwen could assess her pussy's new hair do. Reflected in the glass was Gwen's pubic mound; trimmed into a single ornate black rose, with modeled flourishes, petals and leaves, its short thorny stem rising from the peak of her pussy's clef.

"What do you think?" asked Domenique.

Amazed at the detail, Gwen remained speechless for a time, and simply stared as her clit gradually came to throb awake.

By that evening, they'd called the Advisor's Personals response number, put it on speaker, typed in the add's code and got the following message from a sweet voice that Domenique couldn't attest was in deed that of the nurse. "Hello ladies. I think you and what you seem to have is totally amazing. I'm jealous, but not crazy jealous. I just want to fit myself between you, maybe just once, maybe twice or maybe even three times, who knows. Fate is funny, isn't it ladies? Like the stars in Orion's belt; the sisters three, at least I think that's who they represent, let slack, apportion and cut. God, it makes me nervous just to think about, well, you know. Anyway, leave a message. Maybe I'll have the nerve to go over my portion. Thanks."

"It's slow tonight," said the nurse, holding a clipboard and pen in one hand as she closed the examination room's door with the other, "And we're trying out new staff at the front desk, so I thought you wouldn't mind me checking you out first before you met the Doc."

She was still very attractive, even in her blue scrubs; tired blue eyes, her red hair in a long braid down her back, her skin looking healthy and her tits and ass smoothing the scrubs material in just the right spots.

"Perfect." Said Domenique as she laid back onto the paper coated exam table.

"Uh, what seems to be the trouble?" asked the nurse as she approached Domenique's side.

Domenique immediately went about undoing the fly of her jeans. Seconds later, her shoes slipped off, ass raised, hands tugging jeans and panties to her ankles, the pile of clothing lay beside her pink crew socked feet. The nurse looked on, abashed and perplexed.

"Well," said Domenique, her eyes doleful as she met the nurse's gaze, "I seemed to have gotten something lodged in my introitus."

The nurse remained still for a moment. Then, mesmerized by Domenique's raising and parting her legs, she stepped backwards until arriving at the door and locking it. As Gwen and Domenique waited around for the phone to ring, they decided that it wouldn't hurt to pay the nurse a visit. Maybe she was their admirer, maybe she wasn't. Either way, Domenique had developed a plan and they'd agreed to put it into action. 

"Introitus," the nurse repeated, her expression a cross between concern and amusement as she set her clipboard and pen aside and worked rubber gloves onto her fingers, "How clinical."

"I thought you'd be impressed."

"Oh, in deed I am." Said the nurse, pulling a jar of lube from a drawer, "What was your name again?"

"Domenique. I wouldn't bother with that lube. You're going to need the traction."

"Really?" said the nurse as she turned to the edge of the exam table upon which Domenique's feet rested, "Scoot forward a bit. That's it. Okay then; let's take a look."

"And what might be your name?"

"Julie. Now relax, though that doesn't seem to be a problem for you."

Domenique smiled as she watched Julie concentrate and felt her fingers beginning to probe just inside her pussy. Presently, a look of bewilderment came into her eyes as her fingers came to grip the purchasable end of what Gwen had tucked inside of her. Julie looked down and, parting Domenique's lips with her left hand and slowly pulling the thing out with her right, totally extruded the item and stared at it with some degree of disbelief.

"A nip bottle?" Julie announced staring at the small glass vessel in her gloved hand, "With, with a message rolled up inside?"

"Yep." Domenique answered as she got to her feet and began to get back into her clothes, "It's for you."

Julie stood aside, stunned, her eyes still transfixed by the tiny bottle. Domenique had dressed as quickly as she'd undressed, and then made her way to the door.

"Gwen," said Domenique as she clutched the door's handle, "My friend; she says hi by the way. See ya'."




Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 04



Julie was still in the examination room when Domenique found Gwen in the waiting area, her eyes riveted to the screen of her Air. Noticing Domenique in her periphery, Gwen locked the screen, closed her case's cover, and then got to her feet.

"Mission accomplished." Said Domenique as she took her lover by her free hand.

"Do you think it's her?"

"Honestly? No. But, we're going to have her anyway. Now let's go discuss phase two over some Tai."

The event was scheduled for the following Saturday night. Gwen had booked a suite at the Mariot; penthouse floor, refrigerator bar, plenty of room, two queen size beds and a shower/Jacuzzi. Food platters and other items were ordered, fresh toys were purchased especially for the occasion and their outfits for the evening selected, though --with or without Julie's presence- the lovers didn't intend to wear them for very long. Upon the tiny coiled note was written the message: Domenique and I wanted to invite you to join us for a night of tantalizing flavors, sumptuous delights and luxurious pleasure. If you are intrigued by the prospect, meet us at the below inscribed location on 11/14/13 at 9:15 p.m. You can be assured that the risk is safe. Oh, and the password will be "three sisters." TTFN, DE + GT.

It was 9:16, and Gwen still had her doubts as she took another sip of champagne. They'd changed out of their selected evening wear, hung their dinner dresses in the closet, and lounged around in their bras and thongs. By 9:18 Domenique was reclined on one of the beds, sipping her champagne and reviewing the hotel's porn selections, when a sudden rapping of knuckles turned their attention to the door. Gwen set her glass down and stepped to the door.

"Yes?" she said, peering through the eye hole.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to say three sisters?" said a woman's voice from the other side.

Gwen unlatched the door, and then pulled it open.

"Oh hi..." said Gwen, jovial, but a bit flustered.

Domenique set her drink down and bounced from the bed.

"You brought a friend," Gwen said as she stepped aside, "How; nice."

"Holy fuck!" said Domenique as she took in their guests, "It's the old man from the clinic! Wait. You two; are together?"

Julie, red face with a tentative smile, was absolutely radiant in a sequenced green long skirted affair with slightly puffy shoulders and a plunged neckline.

"UH; yeah." She said as her little old partner advanced into the room and took in its decor: trays of fruit and vegetables, a healthy variety of sex toys, all spread between a half dozen or so vases and baskets of white rose bouquet's.

"Jeez, it's like a horny vegetarian mortician set up the joint." the old man remarked, "I thought you guys were interested in having a good time with living people." 

"We were." Answered Gwen with some disdain, crossing her arms over her breasts and beginning to contemplate throwing her dress back on.

"Well I couldn't violate HIPPA and just call you." Julie explained, advancing into the room, "I would have been in enough trouble if I got caught with you in the exam room. But look: we'll leave if you want us to. It's just that, well he is my life play mate and he really is a lot of fun."

"Hold on." exclaimed Domenique, eyeing the old duck, dressed in a Brooks Brothers gray pin stripe suit, white shirt and black tie, "So why were you at the Polo Club?"

"Hello, because I also happen to be bi." Julie said, "We have an open relationship like that."

"No shit?" said Gwen. "No shit." Julie repeated as she put her arm around her little old man, "He is my sugar daddy, and between sharing STD negative girls, he can make me cream for literally hours. Isn't that right Mr. Sullivan?"

"It is in deed my sweet." Answered the old man, "How about it girls? Let's; share each other. You delight a bit with my candy girl, and then either of you ladies take me for a little ride. What do you say?"

"Sure; what the Hell." Said Domenique without the slightest hesitation.

"No, wait Domenique! Seriously?" Gwen implored. 

"Well, yeah; why not? He's clean; right Julie?"

"As a whistle, outside and in." Julie smiled before kissing Mr. Sullivan on his white haired head, "I work for a hospital. I don't fuck around."

"Well; he is kind of cute." Gwen admitted.

Oh my God, she thought, did I just say that?

"Sure I am. Who wants to go first?"

"I'll go." Said Domenique, "But I want to watch Julie blow you before I get on ."

"Oh, that won't be a problem." Julie smiled.

Mr. Sullivan and Julie went right away to undressing. Meanwhile, Domenique poured them some champagne while Gwen hung their clothes. Julie remained in her white lace panties and strapless bra while Mr. Sullivan removed every last stitch. He sat his scrawny ass along the foot of the nearest bed while Gwen went to get Julie something comfortable to kneel on. Then, the bath mat in place, Julie got down between the old man's legs and started breathing him in, twirling his flaccid little dick around with her lips, chin and nose until she'd coaxed him to his full nine or so inches. Domenique took off her underwear and flung it across the room as she stared with singular interest. Taking her champagne, she took a seat next to Mr. Sullivan and continued to take Julie in as Mr. Sullivan held her hair back. Meanwhile Gwen sipped her own drink, set it aside, smiled at the scene, and then kneeled behind Julie. Gently, she removed her strapless bra, tossed it away, and then began to fondle Julie's firm C sized breasts. Mr. Sullivan began to hum, taking slow deep breaths like a meditating monk. A minute more and Domenique slipped down off the bed and gently nudged Julie aside.

Mr. Sullivan's eyes were still closed as Domenique eased her mouth around his fat red head. Gwen watched as Domenique's enthusiasm for his big cock became steadily more apparent. She glanced at Julie, who shrugged, smiled, and then drew her in close for a first sweet kiss. Gradually, their kisses deeper, wetter, the two women rose together, and then removed the rest of each others underwear. Julie took in the room a second time, but not before commenting on Gwen's ornate pussy do. Gwen said that it was thanks to Domenique as she marveled at the red head's fantastic body and the bright red almond shaped mound of hair between her smooth, muscled, legs.

"What's with all the white roses anyway?" Julie asked as they crawled upon the other bed.

Certain that Julie wasn't their admirer either, and resigned to enjoy the event they'd facilitated, Gwen simply shrugged, and said: "They're Nique's favorite."

As Julie and Gwen negotiated arms, legs, mouths and pussies, Domenique encouraged Mr. Sullivan to scoot further up onto the bed. Together they watched, Mr. Sullivan all smiles, as Gwen and Julie began to eat each other within the circle of their sixty-nine entanglement. Turning her attention away, Domenique crawled over Mr. Sullivan's lap, licked her business fingers, spread her pussy open with them, and then slipped herself onto Mr. Sullivan's schlong. The old man had stopped watching his lover and Gwen going at it, crossed his arms behind his head, closed his eyes and relaxed while Domenique put her grind on simmer. Slowly she pumped, her open palms on the old man's chest, her eyes on Gwen's or Julie's sweet round asses and wet faces.

Eventually, each in quick succession, the three women came; panting and giggling with shy exuberance. The old man, his cock still ragingly solid, had fallen asleep minutes before Domenique had finished her ride. The three sisters left him there as they grabbed up a number of toys, their glasses and another bottle of champagne, and then moved their play into the room's spacious bath. 

Domenique assessed Julie's attractive, well cared for feet and related that fetish she and Gwen shared, as well as indicating their penchant for ass munching. Julie, in turn, related how she also enjoyed beautiful feet and how she liked to get her ass munched. Gwen, as she strapped on the jock, thought it was nice how things fell into place, how the world was one ever widening circle, their oyster, their carnival cornucopia.

They'd thrown an extra towel down at the foot of the large tub, and Domenique had brought a pillow for Julie's comfort. She wanted to take a turn eating the red head's pussy before doing anything else to her. So Domenique dined for a time as Gwen sat on Julie's face and got her ass finely rimmed. After Julie came a second time, Domenique parted her open legs even further, pushing them apart and gripping her behind the knees as she began to eat the hell out of her brownish pink ass hole. Gwen pushed her new bright orange cock aside and played with her pussy as she took Julie's tongue in her ass, watching as Domenique's tongue wag, wiggle and flick against their new sister's anus.

Presently, they climbed into the tub, turned on the shower head and proceeded to wash each other thoroughly. Domenique was lubed first and Gwen went about preparing the way up her pretty round ass. Julie was bent over before Domenique, palms on her knees as she was lubed next. Then, her ass good and slick, Domenique took her two and a half foot string of bright green silicone anal beads, and began inserting one bead at a time into the woman's hungry anus. It was Gwen that first noticed that Mr. Sullivan had joined them, seated on the toilet, his cock still on its Viagra high. Gwen smiled and waved. Mr. Sullivan simply stared. He seemed to evaluate them, perched there, poised as if trying to work out a particularly vexing problem. Between his watching bead nine follow bead eight into his lover's sweet little ass, he'd meet Gwen's gaze. Finally, she shrugged, gestured first for him to join them and then gestured that he join them by filling her ass with his big old dick.

Sullivan smiled and got onto his feet. He spied the lube, tipped himself off, climbed into the tub, and then rubbed a dollop full into Gwen's ass hole. Bracing herself while trying to keep her rhythm in Domenique's ass, Gwen felt the old man's easy fullness before she'd even realized that her ass had been penetrated. Whether it was her and Domenique's practice or the old man's experience, she felt as if she could get fucked as hard and as fast as the old man could handle. So she told him so, and there were giggles all around. He fucked her then, easy at first, but not for long. He poured it on. It was so intense that she couldn't help but fuck Domenique the same way. In fact, it wasn't her that was fucking Nique's ass, it was the old man fucking them both. As Sullivan drove his speedy cock, Julie began to shake and shiver by the time Domenique had started pulling the two and a half feet of beads back out; her pelvis quaking with each pop and plink. 

The old man heard her moaning and it seemed to help his game, as if he needed any. Pretty soon he began to moan as well. Oh my God, thought Gwen, suddenly getting nervous. Please don't have a heart attack while you're in my ass. Christ, we should have thought of this first. Wait, his girl friend's a nurse. Still God; no heart attacks please. A minute more passed and Gwen realized that their mutual speed had begun to slow. She noticed that the old man was beginning to pant, wheezing a bit with each thrust. Still, Sullivan thrust, pushing himself into Gwen and pushing Gwen into a now rapturously whining Domenique. Then, after Three more jabs with his cock, the old man began to shake Gwen's insides with an eruption of come. It felt like gallons rushing out of him and into her. Sullivan moan, stuttered, moaned and stuttered again. Please God, prayed Gwen, though I imagine he'd think it a lovely way to go. Still, the old man came. Gwen began to feel it trickling out of her ass, could hear droplets and gobs of it plummeting into the shallow water of the tub. And then it was over.

"Mr. Sullivan, sir?" she said, afraid to turn around and look, "Are you okay?"

"Oh I'm just peachy sweetheart." He panted, laughing, "But I bet you'll be really soar in the mornin'."

It was around two A M when they'd said their good-byes. Domenique and Gwen explained their real reasons for the presence of the white roses and why the password was three sisters. Julie had helped them clean up as they talked, so there wasn't much else to get done but wash up a second time and go to sleep. Domenique, the calm seas of her thoughts starting to churn with another storm front of dark memories, was still completely alert. 

"Gwen?" whispered Domenique as they lay spooned together.

"Yeah baby?"

Domenique paused, thoughts of Pops, Lala and Heather whirling in her brain, listened to Gwen's breaths and decided that she was perhaps better off once again taking the silence's cue.

"I love you Gwen." 

"I love you too Nique."



Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 05



From a bowl of freshly cut fruit, Gwen deftly plucked a wedge of strawberry with the first two toes of her left foot, and then carefully dipped it into another bowl of melted chocolate. Domenique lay on her belly, and watched hungrily as her lover took care to immerse the entire piece of fruit as well as the tips of her toes into the limpid brown pool. If not for their shared fetishism, the foreplay might have been skipped for some other more usual and less messy means of arousal. However, as far as Domenique or Gwen were concerned, they would have nothing less. Slowly, Gwen guided her morsel toes to her lover's open mouth. Domenique eased her head in close, and took a sumptuous bite out of the strawberry as Gwen held her foot steady. Domenique gazed lustfully into Gwen's smiling eyes as she chewed. Then, swallowing her first bite, she began to lick the shining coat of chocolate from Gwen's toes; gliding her tongue in rapturous delight, her eye lids closing, a contented purring rising in her throat.

"You love chocolate." Gwen said, her voice silky.

"Hmm," said Domenique wagging her head slightly as she opened her eyes again, "No. You; are what I love."

"Oh, is that all I am to you; a what?"

Domenique licked her lips clean as she watched Gwen searching her eyes.

"The what of you," Domenique continued as she observed Gwen trying to grab a slice of banana between her toes, "Is the tangible Goddess of you that makes me hunger for you, and your soul is the who you are, the conduit divinity, that makes your totality all the more succulent."

Gwen's eyes, her expression an alchemy of timorous astonishment, vacillated between Domenique's warm gaze and the banana slice that simply would not stay between her toes. 

"You did not just come up with that." She said, finally using her fingers to set the slick piece of fruit in place.

"I did."

Together, they watched Gwen's foot hover over the bowl of chocolate, descend for a dip, only to leave the chunk of fruit to float in its little pond. Gwen, her expression suddenly stern, grumbled in frustration. Domenique laughed as she moved the two bowls aside.

"Banana wouldn't have been my next choice." She said as she drew herself closer to the holy temple between Gwen's spread legs, "But let me see how it tastes this way."

For this session of play, Domenique had rolled out the rubber sheet and spread it across the open terrain of her living room. It was a chilly November day outside, but the couple turned the heat up high enough so that lounging naked would feel as good as it should. Domenique sunk the banana slice into the chocolate, withdrew it, and then began to paint Gwen's pussy with it. The rose that Domenique had trimmed into life for her was still plain to see inside its almond meadow of the rest of Gwen's new hair growth. The black rose's hair shined with patches of chocolate syrup. Gwen looked down to watch as Domenique painted her clitoral hood, her clit and her lips; parting them as she worked, spreading them and lubricating the temple's vestibule with the disintegrating piece of soften fruit. Presently, what remained, she tucked inside Gwen's chocolate covered pussy.

"You and I," uttered Domenique, her tone now silky, "Are two flowering vines entwined,"

Domenique paused long enough to dart her tongue across Gwen's rose and lap up the chocolate she'd left there.

"Loving, close yet loose enough, to while through our garden, rooted in the same mother soil, sweetly drenched with the Goddess's rain or the nourishing light of Her indefatigable yellow sun;"

Again Domenique paused to lick the chocolate and banana from Gwen's major and minor lips, leading Gwen in a lazy song of sweetly murmured bliss.

"Two queens, weaving our splendor, sharing it with other blossoms as we seek..."

Domenique's words trailed off, her last utterance muffled by Gwen's syrupy chocolate and banana paste lathered pussy. Domenique contentedly dined as Gwen stroked her lover's soft brown hair. Relaxed, she felt Domenique drag her strong tongue from the bottom of her perineal to the top of her clef, and then across, in and out again, until she inevitably began to buck in the rhythm that Domenique had set for her. Can she? Is she? Is she fucking me now with her tongue? Why not? It's long enough. Gwen had to see. Oh but I'm coming. Gwen eased up onto her elbows. Oh my God, yes, she is. 

"Oh yes Nique!" moaned Gwen as she reached probing fingers to find the physical compliment to what she'd seen, and then feeling Domenique's slick hard tongue disappearing under the arch and quickly reappearing again, "Fuck me with that long hard tongue! Mmm baby; yes, yes, mmmmmmm, yeah, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Oh Nique, oh Nique, my sweet baby."

With steady thrusts, Domenique drove her tongue deep into Gwen again and again. She'd forgotten that she could do it and couldn't recall whom she'd done it for last. But, Domenique continued to fuck Gwen with it, enjoying the feel of it inside flesh that gave and could suck it inside itself. Seconds passed and Gwen's orgasm verged as Domenique began to literally ram Gwen with her tongue. Finally, Gwen's climax sent her love muscles to grip Domenique's tongue tight. It was an odd feeling, as if Gwen's pussy was a living flesh Chinese finger cuff around her tongue. Meanwhile, whether or not she was aware of Domenique's situation, Gwen held Domenique's head by fists full of her hair. She rode her climax quietly, her body clenched, her back arched, the endorphins electrifying her until the breaker was flipped. Gwen fell back and simultaneously let her grip loose around Domenique's tongue.

Domenique could barely speak for a while after that. She'd crawled up upon Gwen and got kiss after grateful and sympathetic kiss over her entire face, and was told that she'd uttered the most divine words Gwen had ever heard. Presently, it was Domenique's turn to lay back and get appreciated. And so, Gwen ate Domenique for lunch, and didn't waste a solitary chunk of fruit or single drop of chocolate.

"You really want me to move in with you?" Gwen asked as they stood together in the mall later that afternoon.

Domenique had popped the question after they'd gone through a fast coffee drive through and picked up two hot mocha lattés' and two cream cheesed bagels.

"We've only been together for four months." Gwen had said, her eyes on the road though it wasn't her that was driving.

"I know." Domenique had said, her gaze shifting to Gwen and then back onto the busy traffic around them, "I just thought; It was time?"

A silence filled the cab of Domenique's car as they ate and sipped their coffees. Gwen changed the subject as they approached the mall, something about her IT job, and Domenique patiently listened to her lover's venting her frustration over inept co-workers and people on the needy end of the help line who still didn't know their local disk from their shared folder. Once inside the mall, they'd drifted apart for a few stores, and then met again at the fountains. Domenique watched the spray rise and fall. Gwen watched her watching, and paused to assess the mall traffic for unwanted onlookers. Presently, Gwen drew closer to Domenique, her face just a matter of a kiss away. Domenique turned to face her.

"Yes." She said, her eyes daring Gwen to kiss her there, for all the passers by to see, "Yes, I do want you to move in with me."

Then Gwen, her gaze shifting, her face reddening, but a smile raising her lips, said:

"Okay. Fine; let's do it. But..."

Gwen looked away, toward a set of parents with twin girls in pig tails walking hand in hand.

"What about our elusive third rose?"

Domenique turned her gaze back into the flowing, rising jets of water.

"What about her?" She said.

The silence that fell between them was filled with the rush of the fountain, the chatting of passing groups of roving teens or the squealing, laughing or whining of toddlers and the thirty somethings that bore them.

"The next one," said Gwen, her body uncharacteristically close for such a public setting, "Will definitely be her, you know?"

"I don't know." Domenique answered as she turned to face her, "Maybe."

They stared at each other for a time, though Domenique's gaze wavered, as if she had something else she wished to say.

"What?" asked Gwen as she searched her lover's face.

"Nothing." Domenique answered, "It's getting late. Let's hit Victoria Secret on our way out." 

Twenty minutes into their time in Victoria's, Domenique found a shiny purple little teddy she knew she had to see on Gwen. Gwen had wandered off into the store maybe ten minutes earlier. The last Domenique saw, Gwen had been talking with one of the customer assistants, a young Puerto Rican woman with long black shining hair. Domenique checked the aisles deeper in the store, but still saw no sign of Gwen. Then, assuming she'd found a thing or two to try on, Domenique, toting the teddy, made her own way to the dressing room area. She called for Gwen, heard her laughing, pulled the curtain back and saw her in the midst of taking off her bra with the Puerto Rican customer assistant standing in the changing booth with her. Domenique's face immediately darkened, before reaching the teddy in, putting it on the peg on the right wall, then leaving. "What's the matter Nique." asked Gwen another ten minutes or so later.

She'd found Domenique near the entrance of the store, standing straight and aloof like a brooding sentinel.

"Nothing," Domenique answered flatly, her clenched fists stuffed in the pockets of her winter coat, "I'm just suddenly very tired."

Gwen tried to look her in the eye, but Domenique avoided her gaze.

"I love the teddy you picked."

She waited for a response, but all Domenique offered was a shrug.

"I tried it on. It looks and feels nice. I guess, I guess I'll go pay for it and I'll be right out."

The ride back passed in silence for the most part. Gwen put the question to Domenique again and again as to what the problem was. Domenique's reply was always the same: "Nothing." The only departure was when she'd asked Gwen if she wanted anything from the liquor store she'd stopped at. Gwen had said no. Domenique exited her car without another word, and then returned with two bottles of maple Crown Royal.

What the fuck, thought Gwen, does she have to all of a sudden go and buy hard alcohol for? Why is she giving me shit now? Then it came to her. Domenique, now ready to settle into an exclusive long term together, feared the prospect of the third time being the charm. Somehow, at some point over the last couple of weeks, the pursuit of the third white rose had stopped being a game for her and was now a looming threat. Oh my God, she does love me. The words are real. So what about me? How do I feel; really? Gwen loved Domenique in as much as she enjoyed her immensely. And yet, she enjoyed the pursuit of their third with nearly as much zeal. But, she knew, it never would have been that way if Domenique hadn't been an equal party to it, hadn't been the initiator for each tryst, the director of each operation. Without Nique's willingness, she thought, it just wouldn't be the same. Still, don't we both deserve to know who our admirer is? Or, is it that she already knows?

They'd arrived at Domenique's apartment. Domenique grabbed her booze. Gwen took the bags. Her mind was swimming as she followed Domenique, and then waited for her to unlock her front door. Christ! That's it, Gwen thought, she's about to start her cycle. God, we're not even living together yet and we're in menstrual synchrony. Sure Gwen, Nique's cycle started the very moment she entered the dressing stall. That has to be it; Nique's coming down with the period . You're so stupid. Gwen kicked off her boots in the hall, and then tossed the bags onto the couch before heading into the bathroom. If she wasn't so upset, I would have asked her to join me and that Spanish girl. She was pretty. Nique would have liked her, I guess. It's not like we did anything. Or maybe... Was that it? Was that...

Gwen was about to call Domenique when she was turned and helplessly choked by a pair of rolled up socks Domenique had suddenly shoved into her mouth. Gwen's eyes went wide. Next she knew, Domenique had her two wrists gripped tightly in one strong hand, like she'd had that time months before, when she'd copped attitude with Domenique over the nature and scope of love. . Tears rushed from her eyes as Domenique's fingers pressed against the major pressure points in her wrists, and sent her quickly to her knees. Domenique released her grip, and then quickly knocked Gwen over, simultaneously ripping her slacks and panties to her calves. Gwen tried to reach her free but still numbed hands to stop Domenique, to get the gag out of her mouth, but couldn't manage a single move. Domenique was much too quick, straddling her legs, and then punching her left kidney, then her right, and then; while slapping one exposed cheek and then the other, repeatedly back and forth, she hissed through clenched teeth:

"I... decide... who you... fuck... not... you!"

Gwen could barely breathe. She was nauseated and she started to feel a cramp in her lower back intensifying. Still immobilized with pain, her lower back throbbed, her ass stung with the heat of a thousand pin pricks. She lay there sobbing, the taste of laundered wool in her mouth, her teeth, gums, tongue and palate painfully dry. Domenique was still straddling her, shoving her back down any time she'd make the effort to rise.

"You pull that shit again, and I will out you to your mother!"

Finally, Gwen crept a hand to her mouth, pulled the pair of socks, and then flung it away.

"You fucking asshole!" she screamed, " You think you're in control over who we fuck? You think that she, whoever she is, is yours to share with me! But if I find someone who I think I want to fuck, you can't handle it, so you need to hurt me, you fucking bitch?" "You were intending to take us slumming." Said Domenique as she rose to her feet.

"Slumming?" cried Gwen, turning herself over, "What the fuck Domenique, you're pissed because the girl in the store was Puerto Rican!?!"

Domenique looked away.

"Oh my God!" Gwen said, no longer deigning to look at Domenique.

Gwen made the effort to re-dress herself, but it was slow going. She could hear Domenique in the kitchen, making herself a drink. She returned to the living room a moment later, and Gwen was still huddled on the floor, eyes shut, tears streaming and teeth clenched as she worked to stuff herself back into her clothes. What the fuck! Move in with you: you're out of your fucking mind! Who the fuck did you become over the last fucking half hour?

Eventually, Gwen crawled her way to her boots, and worked them on as quickly as she could, given the circumstance of her aching back and stinging ass. Domenique had flicked the TV on, and then crossed the hall into the kitchen with her empty glass. She crossed back a few seconds later, not looking at Gwen, as she ferried her newly filled glass and one of her bottles of Crown Royal. That's it then bitch, thought Gwen as she got finally to her feet, and then began to work herself into her coat. You tie one on and I'll make my escape. Gwen had been there before, and she'd never expected, especially with a woman partner, to be there again. But, there it was; resentment, alcohol and violence, tainting the good, good thing they'd cultivated. Gwen half expected Domenique to come running after her, to beat her more, to exert whatever control she thought she needed over her or to apologize and tell her that she'd never ever do it again; because that was always how it worked. A stupid girl would stay, but Gwen wasn't a stupid girl anymore. That girl was gone. Gwen fumbled for her keys, took one last look down the hall, gripped the door knob, and then showed herself out. 

"MHIS Help Desk; Can I help you?"

Still keyed up from the event, needing something positive to silence the teeming infestation of vacillation of ugly and precious memories, Gwen was eager to get to work on Monday morning. Work, she could trust; its easy manageability, its schedulized predictability and its acquaintance stream of harmless, socially distant, souls. Of course, each time she'd picked up the phone, Gwen wanted or expected it to be Domenique at the other end of the line, crying about how much she needed Gwen's help, how sorry she wanted to say she was, to say how wrong she was and to ask for her forgiveness. Still, your darkest episodes far behind you, it was hard not to have stupid girl thoughts. Each time her outside line rang , a swarm of contradictions would rush from her head, to her heart and into the pit of her stomach, until she saw by the caller ID that it again wasn't Domenique. That's how it was when you lived and breathed someone day in And day out for months, until the very essence of them was in the air of every place you went; or at least it was alive inside your nostrils, perfuming the world with the alfactic memory of her shampoo, her hair, the skin at the base of her neck, her pussy's aroma or the musk of her little pink anus. And you, from the insatiable hunger in your animal heart to the innocent, hopeful little girl at the core of your soul, couldn't just quit that love cold turkey, even if she thought that it was okay to beat your ass out of rage.

"Hi, is this Gwendolyn Travvers?"

Gwendolyn? My mother doesn't even call me Gwendolyn, she thought. Who the heck is this? Gwen read the caller ID: Trinity College? What the Hell?

"Yes it is. How can I help you?" "I just wanted to know if, how you liked the roses."

Gwen paused. She tilted the back of her chair, and then scanned the aisle to the left and then the right of her cubicle. Everyone else seemed busy enough. She brought her chair forward again.

"Hello?" spoke the voice; a woman's voice, sweet yet husky, rich, a deep sort of soprano.

"Yes." Answered Gwen, looking to the right and left once more, "I, we..."

Again Gwen paused. Who was this really? " How much should I really say? Maybe I should just hang up. What if...

"They were nice enough." Gwen continued, "It was a bit odd though, to find them there in the middle of the night; like a kind of hit and run, no note..."

"I know," the mysterious voice intoned, "But I couldn't think of a better way of getting your attention and holding it for awhile until..."

"Until you placed that want add." Gwen finished for her, "We called you, but you never called us back. I mean..."

The line fell silent. Gwen listened, waited. A hand cupped the receiver, a voice muffled, then clear again; the sound of a file cabinet door closing and then papers shuffled.

"I'm sorry, but this is a bit hard for me." Said the voice, suddenly nervous.

Boo fucking hoo, thought Gwen. You have no idea what your little game has done. Fucking A bitch, this better be you. 

"How can we," spoke Gwen aloud, "How can I make it easier for you?"

Once again, there was silence across the line.

"Hear me out." Asked the voice.

"Okay." Said Gwen, checking her phone's screen for any other calls in the cue, "Go ahead."

"Did you know that the word personality comes from the Latin persona, and that persona means mask?"

"I did not know that."

"Each of us generates and maintains a persona, a mask, the self of us we put on display and with which we interact with others. Yet, there are essentially three personality types from which we must generate our masks, whether we perpetuate the personality we were born with or adopt a mask more befitting the character we want to play."

"Uh huh." Uttered Gwen, her brow furrowed as she wondered why she needed the psychology review.

"There is the extravert, the neurotic and the psychotic. Now, neurotic and psychotic don't sound as normal as extraversion might sound, but try to think of neurotic as another way of saying introverted and psychotic as impulsive."




Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 05



"Okay. So?"

"So which are you Gwendolyn?"

Gwen didn't answer. To her, the question seemed more personal, more intimate than anything she'd said or done with Domenique or Tina or Julie and Mr. Sullivan. Suddenly, she was angry all over again, offended by the disembodied know it all voice on her phone, still playing her games. Gwen's heart began to race, her breathing quickened, her mind made up. Roses are dead. Fuck you for sure. Stay out of our head. I want things the way they were. 

"You know what?" she said, seething, "This is bull shit. If you don't have the balls to show yourself, you are not worth being given an answer, though I imagine you have us figured out anyway, and you don't deserve another second of "our" time, so..."

Gwen cut the connection, and picked up the next call in her cue.

"MHIS help desk; how can I help you?"

It was dark by the time Gwen arrived in Domenique's driveway. Her car was parked in the same spot. The apartment was dark inside. She had her own key, of course. Gwen stared at Domenique's bedroom window and recalled her conversation with; with who? Who the fuck did she think she was; extravert, neurotic, psychotic? Masks; you're the one with the mask bitch. Me? I'm just a helpless little neurotic who was in the midst of undergoing a conversion, and Nique... Nique's got her own fucking bridge to cross.

Gwen quietly turned the key to Domenique's front door, and let herself back in. Other than the light from the stove's range, darkness filled the apartment. Slowly, she trailed her fingers along the wall until she could peer into the kitchen on her left and the living room on her right. Not here, she thought. Then, keeping left, Gwen found her way into Domenique's bedroom. 

Gwen was sure of nothing at first, nothing she saw, nothing she knew. She'd even forgotten how she'd convinced herself that it was a good idea to check on her. There was the smell of sick and soiled bed clothes and something else; something metallic. As her eyes finally adjusted, Gwen realized two things simultaneously: one, that the huge mirror over Domenique's low bureau was shattered and two, Domenique was sitting silently in her bed, her hands in her lap. Gwen walked around the bed and switched on her night stand lamp. Then, shuddering and starting to weep all over again, Gwen saw the lamp light reflected in the tacky blood that covered Domenique's right hand. Gwen bolted from the room, switched on the hall light, and then sprinted into the bathroom. Returning to the bedroom, she flicked on the overhead light, and then set herself to work on tweezing all the tiny shards of glass from Domenique's knuckles. I will take care of her, and then I will leave. I will take care of her, and then I will leave her. I will take care of her...

Gwen's tears had subsided the busier she became, wiping blood away, finding more shards and then cleaning more blood away. She saw that Domenique could use a few stitches, but she could seal the areas well enough as long as she didn't mind the scars she'd have on the back of her hand. Neither spoke, though their eyes seem to say everything. How can you ever trust me again, Domenique's eyes seemed to say. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve your forgiveness. Gwen slid out of her shoes and sat crossed legged before her, searching Domenique's eyes between applying iodine, bacitracin ointment and bandages. You're right. You are a stupid ass and so am I. As much as I don't deserve you, I do, and I want you, I love you, I have to have you.

Finished with her treatment of Domenique's wounds, Gwen stepped carefully around the large blades of glass that littered the floor. She disposed of the glass pieces she'd plucked from Domenique's hand and the bloodied paper towels, and then returned to her side. Their eyes met until Domenique looked away, pathetic and shamed. Gwen slipped out of her clothes, and then worked Domenique out of the clothes she hadn't taken off from the day before. Presently, Domenique shifted to the other side of her bed, leaving room for Gwen to slide in beside her. Gwen held Domenique close, and gently stroked the hair away from her face. From there, Gwen's hand caressed the contours of her lover's supple curves and valleys. In the next instant, their mouths found each other. 

They kept their kisses small, like hot rain drops crashing in slow motion; kiss after kiss, forehead, nose lips, chin, neck and chest, ever downward until one colored the other with her love. Gwen had crawled her way backward until her face was in Domenique's dripping sex, her clit poking up like a little cock. Gwen sucked it and enjoyed Domenique's shivers; knowing that it was her anguish and regret that made the pleasure as intense as it was. Gwen lapped and gently chewed for a long time before crawling her way back up to find that Domenique's face was cool and wet with tears. Gwen kissed them, mingling the juices of Domenique's pussy with the shed tears of her face.

Gwen crept her way off of Domenique so that she could reach her night stand drawer and withdraw the jock and its purple cock. Quickly she fit the dildo and the vaginal plug in place, and then strapped the jock on. There was no need for any lubrication. Domenique was wet enough. Gwen crawled back across the bed, parted Domenique's legs, and then knelt between them. Slowly, she slid her silicone cock inside Domenique, and adopted a slow rhythm. Domenique lay passively, humming tearfully to herself as Gwen took her by the ankles. As she fucked, Gwen dined first on the toes, ball and heel of Domenique's right foot and then her left. Then she brought Domenique's legs together, now driving her purple cock deeper and deeper, her thighs slapping Domenique's smooth ass.

"Your philosophy about control in this relationship," whispered Gwen, her words coming in pants as she parted Domenique's legs again, "should directly reflect how we engage, reciprocating, in our sex. Promise me you'll think about loving me the way you fuck me."

"Yes." Whined Domenique, beginning to come in earnest.

"Say it." Gwen demanded, pouring on her thrusts.

"I promise. Mmmmmmm, yes, oh, oh, oh, I swear to the Goddess, I promise, mmmmmm, yes, yes."

As Gwen herself came, her body rigid, her back arched, her face directed toward the ceiling, she knew that she would make Domenique understand how lucky she was to have her and how unlucky she'd get if she ever raged at her again. Power and control should be exchanged, not withheld or used as a reinforcer . How's that bitch? Put that in your fucking psychology text book! 

As Gwen's orgasm relented, she saw stars behind her closed eyes: the three sisters in Orion's belt. She concentrated on them as she gently eased her false cock out of Domenique, and watched the three pin points of light morph into three white rose blossoms.

"We need to talk." She said as she crawled back beside Domenique.



Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 06



Group Therapy

"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth."

- Jess C. Scott,

The Intern

Gwen verged on waking, the fingers of her right hand curled against her nose; still breathing in the musk of Domenique's savory pussy. The aroma had carried her through one sweet dream after another; a red hued celluloid stream of tongue slipping, clit polishing, ass munching tableau after tableau. Gwen sighed and smiled through most of her sleep. But, as the wintry wind's chill came through cracks around the bedroom window, the look of a bad dream darkened Gwen's face. Trapped by its spell, she slept a while longer, until the menace behind her REM rapid eyes chased her toward the safety of consciousness. With sputtering breaths, choking for air, Gwen raised her head quickly and scanned the empty stretch of bed beside her. Gagged, bound, helpless suffocation; the script of her nightmare lingered as she thought: Where's Nique?

Gwen swung her legs off the bed, and then planted her feet confidently to the floor. Sometime during the night, they'd worked together, clearing the fractured shards and needle remnants of Domenique's rage. It was safe, Gwen believed, as she rose and stepped through the open doorway. To her left, the kitchen was empty. Peering around the corner to her right, Gwen saw Domenique, under a thick blanket, huddled in her big easy chair by her bay window. 

A slow, fine snow fell, the kind one had to stare at for a moment to be sure that it was actually snowing. Domenique was staring into it, lost in that way that Gwen had seen dozens of times before; a sorrowful introspection, her eyes always seeming as if on the verge of angry tears. Domenique would space out now and again, the last time occurring a good while before her violence two nights before. If they'd hadn't had their talk last night, Gwen would have assumed Domenique was wrestling with the guilt of having beaten her for flirting with the girl at Victoria's Secret. But now, she knew what ghosts lurked behind Domenique's eyes. .

Gwen was finally given the meat that made up the flesh of the scraps Domenique threw her as their relationship began. The little girl named Domenica grew up in a strip bar. Her Pops was sent to jail for human trafficking and endangering a minor. Domenica refused to ever look upon Lala again, and so never said good-bye the day, not three weeks into Dom's time in foster care, the Multiple Sclerosis forced her young mother out of the world . Heather, once DCF cleared her as an advocate, was still there for Domenica. Gradually, Heather, as teacher and temporary provider and essentially surrogate mother, evolved into the background story that stuck while Domenica became the emancipated adult named Domenique.

Gwen, on the other hand, had laid it all, or at least 99.9 % of it, out at the beginning. There was nothing she cared to tell beyond her woes as the superfluous child that survived her big family. Though, as Gwen gathered jagged pieces of mirror from Domenique's bedroom carpet, she decided that it was the right moment to relate what she referred to as her trial by Billy. 

Billy was the nightmare of Gwen's adolescence; the prince turned psycho. She'd been there for him as he'd been for her, so that when he was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, Gwen had vowed to take care of him. He'd beat her once, and she'd understood. The second time, Gwen was more scared than hurt. The last time, Gwen had been walking out of school with some innocent boy, and got terrorized for it. She'd seen Billy, smiled, waved good-bye to her innocent bystander, walked quickly through the snow, taking care not to slip as she made her way to Billy's side of the car. Her plan was to give him a nice kiss hello. His plan, after seeing her with that boy and all the little pig faced men dancing around them both, was to grab Gwen by her long hair, pull her close, and then peel off while he dragged her along the road. Gwen ultimately survived that day. Her lesson learned, her wounds healed, she set her sights on college and never looked back.

So Gwen had held her guard from lover to lover, and had kept her heart safe until; Domenique. Gwen breathed a great yet quiet breath as she assessed her Nique. Her love tingled with the sight of her, and her heart, the anger in it long since pumped away, ached no less for the woman. Yet, Gwen still feared, a little; but a little was enough. Nique promised me sobriety, she thought. Nique promised me safe, loving, hands. I want to believe. I have to. 

Gwen stood in the doorway, naked, plainly visible but not seen, as she watched Domenique and thought of her mystery caller's words. We do, she thought, we're all guilty of wearing masks so that we can play the characters of ourselves. But who helps us create those characters other than the company we want to keep? Domenique turned suddenly, and met Gwen's eyes. Her gaze, though still troubled, softened as she watched her lover step out of the shadows. As the morning chill brought her nipples to attention, Gwen wrapped her arms around herself. Domenique opened her blanket, unfurling it like a cape, revealing her own naked body while inviting Gwen to join her side. Gwen huddled in and rubbed her cold nose against Domenique's warm neck as she threw the thick blanket back upon them both.

"I'm so, so, sorry." Domenique whispered, uttering the apology she repeated at least twenty times the night before.

"You're my best girl Nique." Gwen answered before kissing her lover's neck, her tone pitched to ring truth, "I love you."

The next moment passed silently but for their slow, and just short of synchronous, breathing.

"I still let it take over." Lamented Domenique, "I still did what I did. I shouldn't have let it happen."

No shit, thought Gwen. Thanks to Nique, they were now a statistic within a statistic; invisibly factored within the 17 to 45% range of those perpetrated and victimized through physical violence committed by a lesbian partner. Roses in our bed, your violence won't do. Hit me again and there'll be therapy for you. There, huddled inside the warmth of the comforter as the snow began to blanket the lawn and street beyond, Gwen understood that this woman, this beautifully brooding, bold, creative inspiring gift of soul and flesh, she would take beating after beating from before ever giving her up . I know. I'm stupid. But, I can't quit her, I just; can't. Gwen sat up, took Domenique by the chin, and then gently pulled her face toward hers. 

"Now you know not to let it happen again, " she said, reiterating her advice from the night before, her words measured as if slowing them down would help them get through to the lost and abandoned little girl that still lived in the cold, dark basement of Domenique's mind, "The past will suck us dry if we let it. So; don't let it.

Domenique stared into Gwen's eyes, her expression gradually brightening. Gwen began a slow dance with her lips, brushing them against Domenique's, taking in her gaze as she painted wisps of kisses along her chin and cheeks.

"I am here," Gwen continued, "Because, since the first time I saw your face, I've only ever wanted to be here."

"But what about Tina and Julie?" asked Domenique, averting her gaze, "What about your mysterious caller?"

"What about them?" Gwen answered, taking her lover by the chin and giving it a gentle shake, somehow both humbled and yet annoyed with Nique's insecurity, "The call? I basically told her to fuck off. If she wants us, she's got to cut the bull shit. Frankly, I think she's gutless, who knows; maybe even deranged, and neither of us have any use for that. As for the girls-"

Gwen paused, her stare never leaving Domenique's.

"Do you want us to stop seeing the girls?"

Domenique didn't look away as Gwen waited for her answer. As she stared, Gwen remembered Domenique's impromptu confession of love from an earlier time, and imagined a vast garden living in the depths of Domenique's pupils; lush leaves, fronds and petals dripping lustrously in the wake of an electric storm. 

"No." Domenique replied, blushing, "I still like, I'm not afraid, to share you, us, with Tina and Julie." 

A smile played along Domenique's lips. As slight as it was, it infected Gwen; casting soft dimple shadows in her cheeks, and warming the look in her eyes to a more luminously green shade of hazel. 

"Including them in our sex," Domenique continued, "It's nice; like a vacation inside a vacation. In fact, I think I'll take pictures next time."

Next time was scheduled for that very afternoon. Gwen had made the calls later that morning. Tina was excited about meeting Julie, Jules, as Gwen and Domenique had gotten into the habit of calling her. Jules was also looking forward to meeting someone new, especially since Mr. Sullivan had just recently left her for an even younger woman. So, by the time it struck three, all participants were gathered at Gwen's for their exclusively female friendly four-way gang bang fuck buddy fest. 

It didn't take long for Tina and Jules to warm to each other. Jules was loving Tina's instantly disarming appeal and her litany of wise cracks. Tina was loving Jules's long and curly red hair and her outfit. Then, once Tina found out that she was a nurse, she insisted that Jules show her the proper method of self breast examination. Jules was struck silent, caught off guard, and then smiled as she asked as to whose breasts should she demonstrate on; hers or Tina's. Domenique was fiddling with her camera, not looking at them, when she told Tina to show off her big girls. 

Gwen was standing by the window in just her sweater and a pair of white lace bikini briefs, watching Tina immediately submit. That was the thing about Tina; she was totally wrapped around Domenique's finger. She'd even grown out her pubic hair and kept it in a nice diamond because Nique told her too. As she thought about it, Gwen realized that Nique didn't behave with Jules that way. Domenique treated Jules more like an equal, like the way she treated Gwen herself. Hmm, she wondered; does that mean Nique was more likely to smack Jules or Tina around? Wait; who am I more like, in Nique's mind? Gwendolyn? No. Just stop. Gwen willed the thoughts away. She then focused her attention on Tina's buoyant yet ample breasts and the now rosy cheeked Jules delighting in them. She watched for a time as Tina's nurse very clinically went about and explained the how and what of self examination; fingers and palms roving widening concentric circles around her patient's delicious looking mammary glands.

"Gwen?"

Gwen quickly shifted her gaze to Domenique. She had taken up a space of carpet six feet behind Gwen and to her left. She was seated crossed-legged, wearing denim cut-offs and a spacious white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and was holding her camera, ready to shoot. Domenique's expression was both cool and somewhat intense. 

"Would you pull your panties down to your knees please?"

Gwen wasn't necessarily the prettiest among the four women, but she was the most photogenic. Domenique keenly understood Gwen as the most instantly inspiring and titillating in captured image, like a picture worth a thousand lurid stares. Julie was the prettiest, the model. Tina was hot, yet pixyish, and Domenique herself was subtlely muscular, roughly bewitching; the dark aloofness in her eyes always serving as her sexy hook.

Gwen stood in the winter washed light coming in through her living room window and slowly drew her panties down to around her knees. She then parted her legs slightly and turned to gaze innocently into the camera. All three women admired Gwen's creamy round ass before Domenique framed the shot, and then snapped. 

One night, weeks before the bad night, whispered in the dark against Gwen's panting mouth, Domenique told her that she had a mysteriously natural way of matching a given environment, a deep thing, a miraculous drawing the world around her to feature only her as its central image. It was a gift, uncanny. Domenique knew she was lucky, blessed to have her, and a twinge of pain clutched her heart tight as she remembered that good, good night and the mistake she'd made not two nights before.

Domenique, her eyes full with admiration, took the same shot twice more. Gwen then slipped out of her panties, and looked over her shoulder to face the camera again. Domenique, eyes scrutinizing and hands steady, captured the image. Watching the three pairs of eyes follow her every motion, Gwen moved into another pose. She turned 180 degrees, stood with her legs slightly apart, her attention toward the day outside, the panties dangling from her left hand, her pussy hair divided half in soft light, half in shadow. Click, went Domenique's camera as she felt her heart's beat in her throat.

"Beautiful." Said Domenique, "Now turn back around. Get on your knees and sit three quarter profile away from the light."

Gwen did. Peering over her shoulder, she saw Tina helping Jules out of her clothes. Jules met her gaze, her bright blue eyes alert, her lips parted in a nervous smile. Domenique's camera clicked and clicked again.

"Now face me again." Domenique instructed, "Get on your haunches, squat; that's it. Now spread your pussy lips a bit. Nice. Lift up your sweater. Show me like a tit and a half. Stop. Don't; move. I'll be hanging this shot in the bathroom."

Gwen smiled broadly. Laughter came from behind Domenique as she took the shot. Then, she was about to utter another direction when Gwen wagged her head and beckoned her with a slow, come hither, gesturing finger. Domenique turned once to check Tina's and Jules progress. They were exchanging gentle, probative kisses as Tina held Jules's tits and thumbed her long pale pink nipples. Domenique set her camera down, and then crawled toward Gwen. Still squatting, a sudden wetness of her cunt's aperture gleaming from the pallid afternoon sun, Gwen brought her beckoning finger to the empty space of floor between her newly glistening pussy and the carpet below. Domenique met her lips, kissed Gwen sweetly, and then slowly rolled onto her back. Like a mechanic on her rolling board, Domenique ducked her head under Gwen's chassis. Feeling steady for the moment, Gwen wondered how long she could manage the position. Glancing up at a now totally naked Tina and Jules, Gwen watched as they came closer. Jules stopped at Domenique's camera and picked it up. Meanwhile, Domenique began to dine, her tongue visibly wagging and affirming its merry way inside Gwen's pussy. 

In the next instant, Jules was on her knees, between Domenique's open legs, and smiled as she went about undoing the buttons of Domenique's shirt. Apparently Jules considered herself, at least for the moment, as having a good eye for image. She'd exposed Domenique's breasts, and then played with the folds and ripples of shirt around them until she was satisfied. Then, stepping back, Jules took the shot. Gwen wondered if she'd want a copy of it for her photo album. Jules stood then and approached Tina. She whispered in her ear, and then Tina looked at her, her expression serious. Tina paused, and then got to the floor and crawled between Domenique's legs. Jules, holding the camera close to her face, moved around to the trio's left side and then their right.  

There, Jules stopped and poised her camera as Tina unzipped the fly of Domenique's cut-offs. Aware in spite of how her vision was obscured by Gwen's ass and because of how busy she was, Domenique lifted her ass as Tina tugged her shorts away. Her legs now free and her pussy exposed to the air, Domenique felt Tina's breaths against her sex, felt her sliding fingers and her tongue, and then heard the camera click. Jules took two more shots before setting herself up behind Tina. From there, she snapped and snapped again before inserting her fingers into Tina's dripping pussy and nibbling around her smooth white ass. It was then that Gwen could no longer keep her position. Carefully, she lowered herself completely onto Domenique's face. Flinging her sweater away, Gwen lowered herself the rest of the way and joined Tina at Domenique's pussy. Together they ate, their tongues meeting at either side of Domenique's clit, feeling her shake against their chins. Jules was there again suddenly, snapping away as Tina and Gwen and took the time to lick juices from each others chins and cheeks and exchange deep wet kisses.

Feeling a bit left out, Jules placed the camera on the coffee table, and then returned to encourage Tina away. She was successful, and they stood together, kissing, Jules breathing in the musk on Tina's face and then licking it clean. At that moment, Gwen and Domenique assumed positions in each other's laps, their hands roving smoothly across backs, shoulders and thighs, their fingers dawdling around nipples and through thick lustrous hair. 

Tina and Julie, themselves embraced, watched them make their love. Warmed to each other, standing naked, they too were embraced, their breasts pressed and nipples smothered. Tina smiled, and then turned and whispered into Julie's ear. Julie laughed quietly, and then turned to face her new friend. They stared, a fire now ignited in their eyes, the warmth of their breath on each other's faces. Eyes still open, Tina leaned in for another kiss. Julie met her. A silence filled the room as a band of finches twittered their chaotic song in a tree just beyond Gwen's bay window. Eventually, Tina and Julie, their clits engorged, broke their kiss. Tina took Julie by the hand and led her to Gwen and Domenique, still seated in each other's laps. 

Tina positioned Julie on Gwen and Domenique's right, and then stepped around the couple to flank them on their left. Then, Tina and Julie resumed their kissing, slicking and lapping each other's breasts while their pussy lips began to swell and part, their fragrance finding its way into Gwen and Domenique's noses. Gwen reached a hand to cup Tina's smooth round ass. Domenique reached for Julie's right buttock, clenched it firmly and extended her middle finger to rub her asshole. They were a house of cards, four queens, built on a foundation of hearts, diamonds smooth and soft edged. Gwen peered up at the ceiling of Tina's and Julie's bodies, their four breasts casting oddly looped shadows. Then, giving Domenique a last look and open mouth kiss, she turned her lips toward Tina's softly downed blonde pussy. 

Her clit shown like a tantalizing gum drop. Gwen began to lap gently at the candy and nibbled it now and again, making her twitch, remembering that was how Tina liked it. Domenique watched Gwen for a time before finally fitting her mouth into Julie's slick, parted, swollen lips. She ate her with gentle ease, as she would the soft serve vanilla frozen yogurt cones she liked. Julie's juices quickly began to wet Domenique's cheeks and chin. Gwen had reached two fingers inside Tina and they both could hear their partners begin to moan with pleasure. Gradually, as Domenique and Gwen salivated and wagged their tongues against Tina's and Julie's sweet juicy bits, if the two standing didn't have each other to lean on, their house of bodies would have collapsed. Presently, Gwen and Domenique climbed out, and then hiked their fingers and mouths up along the smooth terrain of Tina and Julie's bodies. 

Now, they too standing, the four exchanged deep kisses, switching partner to partner, swapping sex sweat saliva aromatic pussy bouquets. Flavors intermingled, cheeks flushed, clits poked and gleaming for action, the four women switched partner to partner, slow waltzing rings around their roses. Gwen took Julie and painted patches of Tina's pussy sweat along her cheeks and neck. Domenique spread buttery trails of Tina along Julie's jaw line and along her ears. Their heat filled the room as they mingled, lingering mouths and tongues, sucking hard nipple after nipple, squeezing the weight from breast to breast, skin shining wet and ever hotter pink. 




Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 06



Now it was Tina on her knees, Gwen fucking her face, holding her tight by the hair with one hand and stroking her cheek with the other. Julie had also gotten to her knees, Domenique's ass on her lap, her pussy saturated, trickling juices into her asshole while Julie leaned in and spread the essence with her tongue, pussy paint drops swelling at the tip of her nose and then dripping onto Domenique's perineum.

Meanwhile, like a belly dancer serving herself as a meal for one, Gwen had developed a slow hip gyrating pattern against Tina's mouth. Her cheeks slightly swollen, red and slick with Gwen's honey, Tina worked her tongue in furious circles. Tina's fingers found their way around to Gwen's ass. She gripped each cheek, squeezed their firmness, and then crawled her spider fingers to part their clef wide and rub Gwen's smooth anus. This led Gwen to hum a soft mewling song of ensuing rapture. She looked down at Tina's wet face and at her own dark pussy, and smiled.

"You're such a dirty fucking little girl." she panted, "Aren't you Tina?"

"Tina moaned and nodded her agreement.

"Yes sweetie" Gwen whimpered as she road the crest of a small orgasm, "Yeah, you love my pussy. Come on; roll that tongue. Drink my pussy juice."

Tina sighed, sipped and swallowed as if starved for the taste, desperate for the quenching. Gwen whined as she stood firm while small waves of electricity emanated from inside her clit, and splashed her insides, sprays of ecstasy whetting her apatite a deeper red. Unnoticed by Tina or Gwen, Domenique glanced at them briefly, smiling as she changed positions with Julie.

"Come on dirty girl." said Gwen as she suddenly pushed Tina back and turned her around, "I'm gonna spank your sweet little ass now."

Tina, still on her knees, bent over and spread her legs, her pastel pink anus beckoning Gwen, her pussy wide open and dripping. Gwen thought of the time when she'd assumed the same position for Domenique their first night together. On her elbows, Tina looked back as Gwen knelt behind her. Smack; came the first, open handed slap, startling Tina and making her whimper again. Gwen rubbed the spot, massaged it, leading her thumb along the pucker of Tina's anus. Then came Gwen's other open hand, hard onto Tina's other cheek. The impact made her jump. The sound was like a crack of a whip, and as much as she desired to make Tina cringe just a few more times, Gwen resisted the impulse. What was that about, she asked herself. Don't know. Forget it. Focus. She leaned her face in close to Tina's perfect ass and instead kissed and nibbled lines and patterns of hunger along Tina's creamy white cheeks. Then, trailing her lips, tongue and teeth, she found her way to the delicate pads at the bottoms of Tina's small feet. There, Gwen's teeth and tongue lingered for a time before finding their way back to her ass. 

Gwen then gripped Tina's ass open and began to devour her succulent little asshole, lapping circles around its narrow circumference and digging her tongue into its slick center. Tina had somehow found a small vibrator on the carpet, and had it working against her clit as Gwen dined on her ass. It wasn't much longer before Tina realized that Gwen had inserted three fingers into her pussy and began to thrust them. Tina's moaning evolved into a musical rhythm, as if humming herself a tune, while Gwen drove herself deep into her. Then Tina felt Gwen withdraw her fingers, and then fit them one at a time into her ass. Tina breathed for her to go easy. Gwen did, at first. But, after a time, not hearing any further protest, she went harder. Gwen continued jabbing her long fingers into Tina's ass as she peered about the living room carpet for her strap-on. 

Her attention was drawn by the sight of Domenique and Julie; Nique sitting on Jules's face, Jules's ass up, Domenique hugging her in a wrestler's pile driver hold, munching happily at the anus in her face. They were both giggling between sighs of pleasure, their utterances muffled from being stuffed inside each other's asses. Gwen wondered how long they'd be able to keep that up as she reached her free hand and collected her purple glittered silicone cock and its jock. Quickly, she strapped herself in, and then flipped Tina around. 

Still sopping, Tina spread her pussy and guided Gwen in. Gwen set immediately into her groove, jack rabbiting Tina as she continued to work the vibe against her clit in a blur of vertical ups and downs. Gwen smiled at Tina, gathered up her huge tits in each hand, and thumbed her long hard nipples. Gwen began to pant as she fucked Tina more deeply and felt the effect of the dildo's vaginal insert on her G spot. But, desiring something a little extra, Gwen swiped Tina's vibrator, and set to working it against her clit while she fucked Tina. Tina frowned. Gwen laughed. With an indifferent shrug, Tina reached her left hand to part her lips, and then found her clit with her right index. Then, she began to rub furiously at it; affecting a speedy vertical up and down friction, which sent her into a wicked twitching fit. Gradually, Tina and Gwen approached their climax, their eyes wide open and staring at each other. Gwen watched Tina's hips shake, watched her speeding finger and the quickly disappearing and re-appearing of the purple dildo she was driving into her. Then, moving her gaze up to Tina's wobbling breasts, and to the string of drool that trailed down her right cheek, Gwen's orgasm exploded, its radiation creeping up her spine, immobilizing every muscle and sending tickling tremors up into her jaw.

Gaining enough after glow will to move, Gwen pulled her silicone cock from Tina, slumped and then lay spent on a stretch of carpet. Eyes closed, she could hear Tina's breathing and had a sense of someone moving around her. Presently, she felt a soft tugging at her thighs. Opening her eyes slightly, Gwen saw that Jules was trying to remove the jock and cock from her. Glancing to her right, Gwen then saw Domenique taking lavish mouthfuls of Tina's big tits. She closed her eyes again, her toes and clit still tingling as she felt Jules tugging the dildo harness from around her waist and thighs. A few seconds more and Gwen fell into a shallow sleep. Totally relaxed, she felt the weight of soft flesh against her thighs, the sensation of cool wet breaths on her nipples and warm palms cupping her pussy. Eventually, Gwen was roused back into wakefulness. Someone had rolled her onto her side. Gwen sniffed the air, and immediately recognized the aroma of Domenique's pussy. Her eyes opened to see her lover's sex was just beyond her tongue's reach. Then, looking right, Gwen realized that her own pussy was about to get munched by Jules, Jules's was about to get munched by Tina, whose pussy was already being snacked on by Domenique. Gwen wondered if the camera was in reach as she took in the interior vantage of their sideways 69. Or was it a 183?

Gwen turned her face back into Domenique's pussy, squirmed her body in a little closer, and then planted a soft kiss on her best girl's clit. So Tina, Jules, Gwen and Domenique lay, their bodies intertwined, another chain reaction of ecstatic impulse starting to ripple its way through them, perpetual mouth to pussy. The love they made looked like a slithering, undulating jungle scene of smooth barked peach colored trees bathed in bright, leafy flowers, and gleaming morsel fruits of limpid eyes, wet lips and gloriously drenched clitoris bud blossoms.

"I cannot tell you how absolutely amazing that was." Remarked Tina from the passenger seat of Gwen's car, "Thanks for the ride home by the way."

It wasn't a terrible hardship, but Gwen felt a bit put out that not only did she have to pick Tina up, but she had to bring her back home as well. The fact was, after their two by two showers, Jules had to hurry to her shift and Domenique went right to Gwen's bed and was out. 

"No problem." "So what'd you think of Jules?"

"Oh she is hot, very nice, lots of fun. But..."

"But?"

"Still not my favorite."

"Really? And whose you're favorite?"

"Oh; I don't know." Tina answered coyly, "But, hmm, let me ask you: when you kiss me, or Julie, does it feel the same as when you kiss Domenique?"

"Gwen took her eyes off the highway for only a second to glance at Tina. Silence passed, two seconds, three, and then Gwen shrugged as she watched the traffic flow around her car.

"I," she stuttered, "I hadn't thought about it."

"I'm not asking you to think about it." Tina laughed, "I'm asking you to tell me how you feel."

Gwen glanced quickly at Tina once more. She suddenly thought of Domenique's violence again, and thought it might be alright to exploit the fact that she had a captive audience to relate the event to. But suddenly...

"Holy shit!" shouted Tina, "Holy fucking shit?"

"What!?!"

Stupidly, Tina pointed her finger across Gwen's line of sight. Just as stupidly, Gwen followed. Her eyes went immediately wide. Then horns blared, tires screeched, Gwen looked back ahead and jerked the wheel; nearly side swiping a Taurus and narrowly avoiding a Ford Explorer.

"Oh fuck!" she muttered, swerving away from volatile traffic, the rapid fire horn bursts, confused angry stares from other drivers and the occasional bird flipped for her benefit. In the break down lane, Gwen came to a stop, and then peered through her window to a billboard looming over the opposite side of that particular stretch of I 91. Her mouth slightly open, her eyes glazed, Gwen flicked her hazards on and stared at the vast image of three white roses, set before a pink background and a phone number, each digit in red French script, cradling their jagged green leaves and spread petals. 

"I just peed in my pants." Said Tina.

"Seriously!" cried Gwen, turning to face her.

"Kidding."

"Gwen glowered at her, and then took a great breath. Tina raised her brow, and then looked back at the billboard. Gwen withdrew her cell from inside her jacket, typed the number on the huge sign, saved it to her contacts, labeling it Rose, and then tucked the phone away.

"I'm thinking that's not an add for FTD." Remarked Tina.

"Nope." Said Gwen, clearing her throat as she eased her foot cautiously off the break and looked for an opening in the traffic.

"I can't wait to finally meet her." Said Tina, "I mean, after all the hype, she better be something else. You know?"

Gwen put her foot back on the break, and then turned to face her. What's this, she thought. Tina met her stare. Flustered, half from having just avoided causing a major accident, half from what she didn't know what was going on in Tina's head all of a sudden, Gwen wasn't sure how to respond.

"Yeah," Gwen finally said, turning again to look for a window to merge back onto the highway, "She better be something else."



Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 07



"When love walks in the room, everybody stand up."- The Pretenders

*

"Hello?" spoke a feminine voice over the line, rich, throaty and tentative.

"Now I know for sure that you are out of your mind." Was Gwen's reply as she stared at the three looming roses across the highway, "This, latest, bouquet; a bit extravagant, don't you think?"

The voice sighed, laughed.

"Not at all." She said, "It was cheaper than going digital, actually. But, please, don't judge me solely by my billboard. I can assure you that I am sane; sane enough for you anyway. But why not meet me and find out for yourself?"

"What about Domenique?"

"You can't make a determination for yourself, and then; inform her choice? Come on now Gwen. Meet me." 

Gwen paused, and then turned to look at Tina. They sat together in Gwen's car, parked in Tina's driveway. Gwen realized that when Tina still wouldn't get out of the car that she wasn't going to make a move until her curiosity, or something else, was satisfied. Tina's cool. I could tell her, Gwen thought. I can tell her everything; about when Nique hit me, about Nique's past or about this mystery rose's other call. Of course Tina knew, and Jules knew, that there was a mystery rose. It was why and how they were pursued in the first place. She's afraid, she thought. She doesn't want to be replaced. Or is it that we; don't want to be replaced?

"No."

"Bull shit!" answered the voice in her phone; smooth yet husky, "Meet me in an hour and a half from now: 639 Main Street, East of the river. Find big Manny. Tell him your name and he'll bring you to the hot seat. See you then."

A faint click, a short buzz of static, and the voice was gone. Gwen stared at her phone for a moment, and then shot a glance at Tina before finally plotting the address into her GPS.

"She wants to meet." Said Tina. 

"Yep." Gwen answered.

"Where?" 

Gwen's brow furrowed as the address data filled her cell's screen. Taking a deep breath and turning to look once more at the three great white roses that surveyed the highway, she handed her phone to Tina. Tina took it, read the screen, and then let a tiny shriek die inside her throat.

"We're meeting her at a freaking strip joint?" said Tina through a mischievous smile.

Gwen, her face stern, jaw set, stared at Tina. I shouldn't have called. Nique will... I need; I can't, I don't... What the fuck!

"We?" answered Gwen finally, snatching back her phone; her words uttered through clenched teeth, her eyes glaring, "I'm sorry Love, but that's not happening. I'll explain. I'll explain later."

Tina, stunned, sat motionless. Gwen reached past her and opened the passenger door. Wide eyed with anger and hurt, Tina stared. Feeling shamed, stupid, Gwen looked away. Strangely, she thought about how burning back forests was a healthy practice. I don't need this now Tina. Gwen reached tentative fingers. She touched Tina's right hand, felt them pull away, looked up and watched as the young blonde quickly slid out of the car, and then slam the door.

The place was less a strip bar and more a gentlemen's club. It's interior, a space of fourteen hundred or so square feet, was decorated in glossy black and clean gleaming chrome. This included the chairs, tables, the bar and its stools, though these were flat black rather than glossed. The stage, a raised semi-circular platform at the back center of the room, was edged with a row of small but very bright lights that switched from white to red, yellow, orange, green, purple, pink or blue. Its surface was a sheet of some kind of reinforced Plexiglas, through which shown a floor of lights that ranged from solid to swirls of color . At its center, stood a thick chrome pole. Backstage, against the wall was a single mirror, as long as the stage and nine feet high, and framed with more lights. The dancers entry points were far stage right and left; three black steps that led round to behind the stage's great mirror, and partially obscured by two platinum hued curtains.

It took Gwen a huge amount of effort to seem casual as she made her way through the crowd as a tall red head, slightly more buxom than Jules, was about to fling herself around the pole. The floor vibrated with some glam band's exultations of her cherry pie as the dancer's ample creamy, green light tinged tits hung in the air. Gwen, now a jumble of nerves, was following the enormous boy-faced, six foot nine, bouncer to the "hot seat." She'd peeled out of Tina's driveway, and then sped back home to find that Domenique had left. Gwen texted once and left two voice mails, never mentioning the billboard, the call she'd made or her intention to meet a complete stranger at a strip club. Gwen changed outfits, paced, snacked on cold Chinese, watched twenty minutes of House Of Cards, unmade the bed --purely out of spite- her primary lover had made before she'd left, brushed, flossed and brushed again; while Domenique never once returned her calls. Then, unwilling to stop by Domenique's apartment, With a half hour driving time to spare, Gwen left to make her rendezvous.

Big Manny led her to a tall cocktail table, around which were set two chairs. Gwen took the seat that faced the stage, and in setting her purse beneath it, noticed that the table was bolted to the floor. Then, feeling it's two and a half foot diameter surface, Gwen realized that it was coated with a rigid suede like material. She sat back, and gazed from her front and center view of the stage, the foot of which was no further than twelve or so feet away.

The red head had somersaulted to near the stage's edge, and then crawled to the foot lights. There, waiting with bills in their hands as she made her taunting approach, were gathered a dozen or so men. Gwen sensed a presence cross into the space beside her. Unnerved, on edge, she turned quickly, and met the professionally feigned warmth of a small breasted, brown haired waitress. Gwen thought the safest bet was to limit herself to club soda, but thought again and ordered a Tequila Sunrise. This is fucking crazy, she mouthed to herself as the waitress left her table. I'm out of my mind. 

Gwen returned her attention to the red maned dancer and watched as she spider sidled along the semi circle edge of the stage, each patron tucking bill after bill into her green velvet thong. Once arriving at the other end, she stood up, turned her back to the audience, and then deftly removed and cradled her tips inside her thong as she drew it down to her ankles. The crowd hooted and cheered. Gwen scanned the assembled collective; tables of beer addled, smiling, staring men and boys, the occasional table of straight couples or the even more refreshing sight of a gaggle of boisterous butches and their fem friends. The red head worked her way back along the gaping faces of her patrons; her moves suggesting some union between ballet and break dance, giving each customer alternating views of her land strip trimmed pussy and little pink asshole.

Gwen scanned the crowd, searching faces for familiar strangers or likely suspects. For all I know, she thought, Nique is somewhere out there, and she'll watch this mystery woman approach me, and... . Lost in thought, Gwen barely noticed the olive skin and red painted nails reach in before her and set a drink down. Absently, Gwen tugged a bill from her pocket, a ten, and handed it over. Her gaze fell on one particular guy. In an instant, startled, her gut churning, she realized it wasn't Billy. But, the sight of the guy was enough to let the filth memories of him seep up through the cracks. There she was, seventeen, Billy: twenty-one; their momentary everlasting love painted in purple bruises across her back and thighs. Gwen watched Billy's face morph into Domenique's. She shut her eyes, winced and took a deep slug of her drink. The red head, now dressed in lemon yellow sequined bikini beach scanty, stepped from behind the curtain stage right and entered the crowd. A moment later, Gwen watched as she met her first lap dance partner of the night.

Gwen took her second sip. She thought of the billboard; wondering how long it had been there. Her stomach roiled slightly from the tequila, from the certainty that Domenique had seen it. Seeing it is one thing. Making the call; is another. She imagined Domenique and her exact twin locked in a hot session of sixty-nine. Would it surprise you if they found each other first? Jealousy burned in the pit of Gwen's stomach. She took her Tequila Sunrise, stirred, and then downed the rest.

. She scanned the stage. It was empty. The red head was brushing the chest of a man in his late forties with her sweet round ass. Another dancer had made her way into the crowd, a curvy ruler of a brunette cow girl, fringed vest, leather thong and chapped boots. Gwen got the attention of the bar maid and ordered another sunrise. Waiting, watching, she realized that the music, now a top 40 beat , was turned down low. She noticed the DJ, his table opposite the bar, black suit, black shirt, platinum tie, close cropped bright orange hair. The crowd had quieted. They were murmuring, like a theatre of movie goers that had just seen the trailers and are waiting for the feature. If two's company, she thought, and three's a crowd, and four's a... Four's what? Four was fun. So why not push our banging gang to five. Gwen felt the tequila suddenly working just as the bar maid returned with a fresh drink. Hell, why not six, she thought next. No; seven! A good number, seven; stronger than three, but nine was even stronger than seven. Although, nine was venturing into having to bridge greater distances between personalities. Well, we'd establish an interview process in addition to our requirement of a clean bill of health. Then there was twelve, a very popular number: the tribes of Atlantis, of Israel, the Apostles, the Zodiac, clock, months. Whoa, we could beat the world record for most pussies eaten in a single sitting or most women to be in menstrual sync. And then thirteen; no, let's not go there. Goddess, I wish I wasn't alone in this. 

Then it happened. The music changed, a familiar jungle beat, and the crowd was up. She stared around, perplexed, stunned by the enthusiasm, the cheers, the screams. Slowly, Gwen got to her feet. Dry ice billowed languorously from the back of the stage. Gwen recognized the song then, Van Halen's Everybody Wants Some, though its opening drum beat was dubbed more than a few measures longer than originally recorded. A vague shadowed figure seemed to be slinking low to the floor from stage right. The crowd went wild, and Gwen saw that the butch and fem persuasion of customer had gathered the stage's faintly foot lit edge. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," shouted the DJ above the din, "Spellbound's proudly gives you; Love."

Gwen listened as the song's guitar roared and whined and the crowd shouted together in one ear piercing scream of exaltation. Her eyes riveted to the stage, to the gleaming jack knife form that cut through the dry ice, now illumined red from the stage floor lighting. And there she was, Love; standing no more than five foot four, long subtlely muscular legs, taught body, perfect C breasts, delicately sinuous arms and a magnificent face: universal, ageless, as one might be privileged to see all over the world, in museums or among the ancient ruins of Rome, Greece, Egypt or even Mesopotamia. 

Gwen's mouth dropped as she watched Love beguile the crowd, her moves practiced, artful, confidence in every step, from mere pacing to some of the most astonishing acrobatics Gwen had ever witnessed outside of summer Olympics broadcasts. The dancer was dressed in only as much as a set of polished steel colored bikini bottom, chrome cupped chain mail bra and some strategically placed purple feathers would allow. She reminded Gwen of the heroines she used to follow in those rated underground comics: space aged skimpy, all wirery and muscled and curvaceous in all the right places, kicking ass without a single hair straying out of place. Her dancing was incredible, gymnastic, a feat of frenzied control; spirals, twists, summersaults and pirouettes executed in bare feet. The crowd cheered, screaming and boisterous like the audience of some heavy metal band: Love, Love, we want Love! Everybody wants some. How about you?

"She's... black." Gwen spoke aloud, the din snuffing every word, "Did you see that coming? Nope. Not me. I, uh, black, huh? Maybe she's not the one?"

Gwen's eyes wandered through the crowd once more. She thought of the black rose Domenique had sculpted around her pussy's lips, and then re-fixed her gaze onto Love. Our roses are white. Yours is black. If I bring you to Nique, she'll have a heart attack. Gwen thought of the clichés, the stereotypes. She knew she would not otherwise discriminate. Nique though... Could she, herself, desire Love? Gwen stared. 

"It can't be anyone else but her." Said Gwen aloud.

She slowly lowered herself back down to her seat, reached for her second drink and gulped more than half of it. Most of the crowd eventually sat back down as well. Gwen continued to watch Love's performance between a few people that remained standing. Multiple layers of bills and what appeared to be 4 by 6 inch red envelopes were spread along the foot of the stage. Love's top was gone. Her breasts, firm and just as richly hued as the rest of her exposed skin, barely jiggled with the force of her dancing. In spite of her rigorous routine, the woman had yet to break a sweat. Her fans screamed as Love swept long arms and legs, sending the money and cards in a tornado that whirled to a pair of shadowed figures that gathered the gifts up in black velvet covered baskets. Gwen, mesmerized, thought of the ancient temples of sacred prostitution. This is a mistake, she thought. I need to get up and leave so that at least one of us is safe. 

But, Gwen could not leave. The tequila was warming her, relaxing her, keeping her thoughts within the moment. The performance, the performer, had her immobilized. Love stared over the heads of her fans as she turned her firm ass toward them, and then slowly tugged her bikini bottom to her ankles, revealing a silver glittered thong. Suddenly, she went into a hand stand, worked the bottom from her ankles, let it dangle between the tapered toes of her right foot, and then flung it into the audience. Women screamed. Men shouted. Heads turned. Dozens of pairs of eyes followed the shining brief's trajectory. They watched it land, two tables from the stage, around the wrist of a buzz cut frat boy who was about to drink from the beer bottle that was gripped in the hand of that wrist. A cascade of laughter followed as he drew in a deep breath of the crotch of Love's thong.

Gwen found herself laughing as well; fascinated, immersed: which is exactly why she didn't notice Manny's having moved in beside her nor was she aware that the waitress had stepped in to take her drink away, though it still had a few sips left in it. Gwen, solidly entranced, registered none of it: Manny's proximity, her missing drink or the fact that Love, as her song was reaching its climax, started at a run, jumped off the edge of the stage, tucked herself up into a flying fetal cannon ball of gleaming brown splendor, spun forward thrice in a high arc to land suddenly, square atop Gwen's table on all fours, her long and thick relaxed hair bouncing to a stop, her smile vacillating between relief and satisfaction. 

Gwen, her reaction dulled by her being hypnotized and fairly soused, was equally poised to jump from her seat and yet rendered powerless by the potential of her nearly full bladder's burst. She felt wholly embarrassed in the brilliance of Love's spot light. The crowd, of course was still watching and cheering madly. Cooling in her hot seat, the urgency in her bladder leveling off, Gwen peered from spectator to spectator. Gwen could avoid Love's hungry gaze no longer. She stared pointedly, interest, expectation and reservation infused, at the exotic dancer. Love leaned in to speak into Gwen's left ear, and then an odd thing happened. A sudden burst of static charge, forced from some strange invisible friction between them and across the crossed tendrils of their hair, shocked the two women leaving them both quite surprised, flustered and embarrassed. Gwen shouted an apology above the din, smiled, and then reached a hand to make contact with one of the metal legs of her chair, grounding herself so as to prevent another shock. Love observed Gwen with her clear, almond shaped eyes, understood, and then leaned in again.

"Hi Gwen." she shouted; easing in, "It's nice to finally meet you."

Still stunned, red faced, Gwen nodded and smiled nervously. Before Love leaned back, she made sure to graze her nose against Gwen's cheek. Gwen, unable to help herself, also drew in a breath of Love. She recognized Prada's Candy on her as well as an unfamiliar yet pleasant feminine musk, a smell of hot sand, salt and lemon grass. Love suddenly leaned back, sat on the edge of the table, and then went into a split; the backs of her knees riding the edge of the table, lower legs dangling. The exotic dancer leaned back on one arm and gestured to Gwen with the other to unfasten the buttons at the top left and right edges of her thong. Gwen looked at her squarely, holding her gaze. The audience was still in an uproar. Gwen scanned the eager, rapt faces around her, a nervous smile creeping around her lips. You're part of the show now, she thought. Walk away, and you'll have a mob to answer to; never mind Nique. Meanwhile, the DJ was merging a soft piano and acoustic guitar piece out of the Van Halen song's fading end. You're so beautiful, sang the new song's singer: sweetly melodious, lost in his subject's heavenly bounty. Gwen returned her attention to the waiting Love. Then she reached finally, with both hands, watching her own fingers as they unfastened the snaps of Love's thong and let it drop open to the table. Gwen's eyes, the audience's eyes, lingered on Love's holy venus mount. Gwen saw that a pair of women's eyes, were deftly shaved into Love's pubis, making her mound a seemingly all knowing vertically mouthed face. Transfixed and tequila addled, Gwen stared into those eyes and saw Domenique staring back at first, but realized that they were in deed Love's eyes; black masked and rose lipped, Love's smooth milk chocolate frosted pussy, a creamy pink filling gleaming from inside.

Abruptly, Love pushed the thong onto Gwen's lap, gripped the edge of the table, and got into a hand stand. Her back facing Gwen, Love parted her legs into a steady split. The crowd was perfectly silent as Love then lowered her ass toward Gwen's own befuddled, slack, face. Love slowly rolled her shoulders so that her neck rode the table, her open ass clef gradually nearing Gwen's face. In the next instant, the backs of Love's knees were around Gwen's shoulders, the all knowing gaze of Love's pussy hair staring at Gwen eye to eye. As loud as the crowd became in response to the latest spectacle, Gwen suddenly couldn't hear a thing. She was possessed by her own eagerness to breathe Love in. Aren't these guys supposed to be healthy and clean to work in this business? Oh my Goddess, that pussy's mighty close. Smells good; like a vacation inside a vacation. I'm supposed to keep my distance here, she being an exotic dancer and this being a den of depravity. I hear men keep coming back to the right dancer. 

The audience clamored for Love. Suddenly, she pulled back, rolled into a ball, spun one hundred and eighty degrees and got back on her hands. Then down again, flipping once, twice, the third time spiraling, switching hands over and under and over and under, then her back on the table, still spinning, roulette wheel round and round until once again Love's implacable, wise eyed pussy stare stopped to face Gwen. Love then sat up, meeting Gwen's stupefied gaze, smiled and reached a hand. Gwen took it. Love gently gripped Gwen's fingers, examined her slender fingers, neatly manicured nails, and then kissed her open palm. Gwen tingled with the softness of her lips, wanting to feel them more in spite of other feelings; the staring crowd, strangers in the audience, in her bed, in her head or laid out before her. 




Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 07



And then; the next strange thing happened. Gwen's chair was effortlessly pulled back and a Strong hand gripped her tightly around the arm. Gwen turned to see that it was Domenique. Gwen looked away, reached for her bag and was fully prepared to slap Domenique in the face with it. Let's see what you do in public bitch. But, as she raised the purse, Big Manny came around Domenique's right. Domenique's grip then loosened, and her hand fell away. Okay then, thought Gwen. This is the part where I walk out, go to Home Depot, change my locks and then start praying that I don't let her in anyway. Gwen rose from the hot seat, and stumbled away from the cluster fucked lap dance. Six steps away, and she heard the DJ change the tune to something 90s and raunchy. Ten more steps and Gwen felt her arm being gripped again, and pulled. I'm not doing this, she thought while swinging her bag around and connecting with the top of Tina's head.

"Jeez Gwen!" she exclaimed, "What the fuck?"

Gwen went immediately to hug Tina around her head.

"Oh my God Tina, " she said, "I'm so sorry! I thought you were-"

Gwen looked over her shoulder toward the hot seat. There, Domenique sat, elbows on her knees, fingers trailing Love's left foot, eyes closed as Love sat on the edge of the table before her, thong wrapped back around her luscious goods, her mouth close to Domenique's left ear.

"Is it just me," said Gwen, trying not to shout too loudly in Tina's ear, "Or does it seem to you that they already know each other?"

"Yeah," Tina yelled back; still rubbing her head, "Like Godzilla knows Rodan!"

"So if they're mortal enemies, what does that make me?"

Tina shrugged.

"Tokyo? Whatever; we can go get our own Japanese tonight!"

"Our own?"

"Yeah; we'll dine on sushi. Come on!"

Gwen's brow furrowed. She didn't like her junk referred to as sushi. Tina shot a glance toward the hot seat. Gwen looked at Domenique and saw Manny approach her with some sheets of paper and a pen. Gwen knew it was a release of liability. Domenique was going to go on stage. What the fuck are you thinking bitch? Suddenly, Gwen felt Tina's fingers grip her chin and turn her head to face her. The sensation brought back the memory of she and Domenique huddled together, warming each other, humbling, forgiving and starting the work of forgetting. Quickly, she willed the memory away and saw only Tina; a look of earnest pleading, sadness and a glimmer of hurt in her eyes. Seconds passed as they stood transfixed. I'd be a fool to stay here, she thought. Fuck her: all I've been is a fool. A melancholy smile played around Gwen's lips as a comfortable prickling sensation tingled from her cheeks, down her neck and across her chest. Tina loosed her grip, and then brought the hand down to take Gwen's. They left the club together; Gwen not taking another look at what new spectacle the audience was cheering on.

By midnight, Gwen was back at Tina's tiny, oddly furnished, apartment. She told Tina the truth; weaving strands of tale between tender kisses, sips of peach schnopps and caressing hands. Tina remained silent, sliding away from Gwen only once to align a telescope she had set up by the head end of her futon. That was the reality of Tina; random, silly, spontaneous, admiring beautiful things from a distance. Then, the story finished, the brandy warming them on the inside, ticking baseboard heat finally warming on the out; Gwen let Tina undress her. The lights were still on as she took her time, starting with Gwen's socks, skipping back to her top, her eyes watching the places her fingers found, her expression that of someone working out some simple problem they knew they'd already solved before.

Naked, arms wrapped around her knees, anticipation swelling and parting her pussy's lips, Gwen watched Tina get to her feet, and step to the corner of the one room apartment where she'd piled her clothes. It was there that Tina undressed herself, gazing into Gwen's eyes the entire time, removing each garment with languorous ease. Then, fully exposed, her big breasts jiggling with the slightest motion of the rest of her body and her long stiff nipples driving her crazy with the sight of them, Tina let Gwen take her in fully before finally flicking the light off. A whisper came in the dark.

"Lay down so I can show you some stars."

Gwen smiled and thought: Ooh, romantic; much better than offering to dine on my sushi. In the darkness, she felt for the bed and crawled on and carefully felt for the telescope. Tina slid beside her, her hand cupping Gwen's satin smooth buttocks. Gwen snugged herself into a comfortable position in order to look through the telescope. Settled, Gwen peered into the eye piece as Tina's fingers sent sparks that penetrated her skin, flesh and bone until they tingled the thousands of nerve endings inside and around her swollen clit.

"What am I looking for?" asked Gwen, seeing nothing.

"Orion," answered Tina, "Give your eyes a little more time to adjust. In the mean time, let me help you relax."

Remaining on her belly, Gwen eased away from the telescope, grabbed Tina's pillows, fluffed, and then cradled them against the right side of her head. Meanwhile, Tina worked her way back down to the foot of the bed. A moment of silence passed, but for the occasional combustion or electric engine growl and purr of cars passing on the street below. Click, a bucket of wipes were snapped opened and two wipes were pulled free. In the next instant, Gwen felt cool wet fabric and strong fingers massaging the bottoms of her right and then her left foot. Slowly, firmly, they worked narrow circles of immobilizing radiation, sending languid waves of worming soft caterpillar bristled electricity along the skin of her legs, into her flesh and into her depth. Gwen could do nothing but close her eyes as Tina proceeded to kiss, suck and nibble each of her ten toes. And there she was; Domenique with her hand on Love's foot, Love's mouth whispering sweet somethings in her ear. She sighed more deeply then. What is Love? Love is a duplicitous whore. Then, as if the slow snaking current of the generous fingers massage could reach sedative tendrils up into her very mind, and carry the memory back down the pipeline, Tina cleared her throat and whispered.

"I think they know each other very well, at least they did at one time."

Gwen raised her head quickly, turned to look over her shoulder, and saw Tina's dark silhouette at her feet.

"The beauty of the truth," she continued, "Is that not only can it come out and set you free, it can also be, according to dudes like Oscar Wilde: "rarely pure and never simple." Strangers become familiars because they say what they need to say, to work the bugs out of one's persona or mask so they can get what they want."

Gwen stared.

"Ha," Tina chortled, "Pretty fuckin' smart huh?"

"Very." Gwen answered, "So what about your mask?"

Silence returned and Gwen reminded herself that she was in deed an asshole. She didn't deserve the attention Tina was giving her. But did she want it because Domenique was openly publicizing physical intimacy on some stage with a stripper she knew from a prior life or because Tina was the one who deserved to have what or who she wanted.

"Lay back down Gwen."

Gwen looked away, and then settled her head back against the pillow. The memory of having whacked Tina with her bag flashed in her mind, making her feel suddenly dry. But, as she thought a stringing mantra of apologies, Gwen's wetness gradually returned as a gentle rain of Tina's long hair slowly cascaded along the length of the backs of her legs. Stopping at Gwen's ass cheeks, Tina withdrew another wipe from the bucket, cleaned inside the depth of her ass's clef, and tossed it away. There, Tina lingered; kissing, licking and nibbling along the lines and curves of each cheek, pulling them apart just wide enough to do the same to the valley that hid Gwen's little pink asshole. After a time, Tina let her hair trace a tingling course lengthwise up Gwen's back from her ass up to her neck. Gwen was once again rendered totally slick and helpless to resist. She felt Tina's hair leave her back, but only to drape across her neck again as Tina's wonderful mouth surprised Gwen with a kiss to the neck here or a sucking of an earlobe there. It was finally the magic Tina was working on her other earlobe that made Gwen want to turn around and let her do all of the above to the front of her. But, Tina wouldn't have it, not then anyway.

"Let me check the telescope." Said Tina as she eased her body over Gwen's back; her ample tits smothering Gwen's shoulder, "Yep. There it is. Take a look."

Tina moved back and Gwen eased closer to the eye piece, opening her legs in the process. Tina's fingers had been creeping along Gwen's ass cheeks, and then, aware of the new vantage, began to trail rings around the rim of her newly exposed asshole.

"Look for three stars that are close together," whispered Tina, "Like in a line running vertically."

Gwen searched, starting from her upper left, scanning to her lower right. And there they were, three sparkling, blue, red and whitish blue cast dots of celestial brilliance.

"I see them."

"That is Orion's belt, Rigel, Betelguese and Bellatrix. Betelguese is the red one. Together, they are otherwise known as the three sisters. Are they the three sisters Love was using as a metaphor for you, her and Domenique?"

Gwen was relishing the feeling of Tina's fingers in her ass. Love, Domenique's Love, was not what she wanted to think about though. But she couldn't stop the thought, even if she tried. Gwen recalled a portion of Love's personal ad message. "I just want to fit myself between you, maybe just once, maybe twice or maybe even three times, who knows. Fate is funny, isn't it ladies? Like the stars in Orion's belt; the sisters three, at least I think that's who they represent, let slack, apportion and cut."

"No, actually." Answered Gwen, turning to look Tina in the eye, " I looked it up. These celestial sisters are virgins or these three exiled angels or something. I think she was talking about the Greek and Roman seamstress sisters Moira: Aisa, Lachesis and Atropos; she that created the fabric for life from her loom, she that portioned each life and she that cut its length."

They gazed at each other, faces cast in shadow, passing yellow splashes of headlight shining in their eyes once, then twice. Tina withdrew her culprit fingers from Gwen's ass. Gwen turned her whole body to face Tina. Still, they stared, moments after Tina reached her other hand to run fingers over and over through Gwen's long lustrous black hair.

"Well, that's pretty deep for someone shallow." Whispered Tina, "But, here's my take. Life is a game I don't need a mask to wear while I play. I protect my heart with sense, with truth, and the truth is; you better pick your team carefully because as Carl Sagan, just a formerly living little speck of dust who used to play his own game on our significantly larger but no less significant ball of dust, put it: For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love."

Silence renewed, the two women remained staring, searching the tiny street light reflected in their irises.

"Are you saying that you're falling in love with me?" asked Gwen suddenly. 

Tina's expression didn't change as she slowly leaned in to give Gwen a gentle kiss on the mouth. 

"Not yet." Whispered Tina.

When Tina tried to pull away, Gwen reached a hand behind her head, and held her still. Lips grazed, parted, joined, clung, sucked, teased and lingered. Gwen turned her head, leaving an earlobe open to Tina's gracious lips and tongue. As she'd wanted, Tina remained for a time, sending shivers down Gwen's spine and goose bumps across her breasts. Presently, Tina dawdled her way to Gwen's long hard nipples, painting each areola with her sable soft tipped tongue. She linked a chain of cool breaths and wet kisses along the most critical zones, stopping once to make eye contact with Gwen. Gwen peered into the depth of Tina's stare, and began to caress, gather up and then hungrily suck at her own breasts. From there, Tina kissed and nippled puckers full of belly until she came to Gwen's naval. Tina dipped her long pink tongue inside and around and drank her saliva back out of it as if the wetness had been blessed from within its shallow depth. 

Tina's mouth traveled further south then, and lingered at the smooth stretch of flesh scape north of the gently meadowed valley below. Gwen was feeling positively delicious as she watched Tina's mouth cross the slope of her pubis. Tina began to use her lips as well as her tongue to nibble, lick and suck Gwen's whole vulva; making animal noises between breaths, whimpers, purrs and grunts. Now totally adjusted to the darkness, Gwen fluffed her pillow again, so that it allowed her better vantage of Tina's face and her own pussy. She gazed and reached long fingers to touch Tina's wet nose, cheeks, lips and the place where her tongue lapped at her clit. Moments later, as the first wave of shivering shook her pelvis, Tina threw Gwen's right leg over her shoulder, hoisted her up by the ass cheek and went to town. Gwen could swear Tina was fucking her with her tongue. Gwen began to see stars inside her eye lids as Tina bucked her lips against her clit.

"Oh my God Tina! Uhhh, fuck me! You're so good; fuck me. Mmmm, mmm, yes; eat my fucking pussy you dirty, little, girl. Oh my God Tina, yes, yes."

As Gwen was verging on her climax, Tina snuck two come hither fingers inside her and proceeded to stroke the anterior wall of her cunny. Realizing the feeling, Gwen reached a hand down and pressed her palm firmly against the area of vulva just above her pubic bone. Gwen's body went rigid then; head back, eyes shut tight, mouth wide, the sound of simultaneous hissing release and hyperventilation rising from her throat. Then, as the wave curled inside her, Gwen pushed from within and squirted a thin clear stream of come with each pulse of orgasm; shooting jets of honey that splashed against various points on Tina's already glistening face and ranging as high as her brow and even the top of her head.

Gwen opened her eyes long enough to see a four inch fiber optic thread of honey that remained clung between her rock hard clit and the tip of Tina's nose. Noticing it, Tina smiled, and then slowly eased her head back. The string stretched perhaps another half inch before it snapped away from Gwen and slapped against Tina's lips and chin. Giggling, Tina brought her mouth back in against Gwen's pussy and rolled her tongue around her clit a minute more; prompting Gwen to buck and twitch against her face. Gwen sighed with satisfaction. 

Then, as her body settled, her breaths shallowing, becoming less rapid, Gwen sang the word "oh" with each slowing exhalation. She then felt Tina fit her hands under the back of her knees and push them up, so as to better dine on her asshole for a time. Gwen continued to moan with lingering pleasure as she listened to Tina eating her asshole and sucking the juice back into her mouth. Finally, Gwen's breathing relaxed, Tina crawled her way back up to her lips and lathered her juices all over her mouth. Gwen drank, lapping her own ass musk honey. Maddened with lust, she quickly moved aside and pulled Tina onto her back in one motion. Then, Gwen crawled to Tina's opening legs. Once there, Gwen had to lean forward long enough to spend a few moments devouring Tina's lovely round tits, carefully chewing her nipples and tugging them with her teeth until Tina squealed with delight. 

Back down again, Gwen saw Tina's clit piercing flash with reflection from the street light. She then mounted Tina's open legs and scissored herself; her left leg bent under Tina's right and her right leg up and over Tina's left. Gwen, sitting on her own foot, positioned her pussy against Tina's gleaming clit for maximum effect. Having done that, she reached under Tina's left ass cheek, gripped it tight and started fucking. Happily, Gwen watched Tina's tits jiggle and sway from the force of her pelvis. And so Gwen fucked Tina; seconds into minutes, minute after minute; dieing between the hot space between the women's clits: friction, moisture, fragrant heat, more moisture, slippery time lost, sweat, succumbed, allotted, portioned and cut.

Tina's pussy was quaking, unstoppable, their intermingled juices so slick that Gwen was losing control. So she gripped Tina's ass tighter. Tina had been panting, whimpering, sucking her own huge tits. Then it hit her. She hadn't let go of her tits. Tina held them firm, thumbs pressing her nipples into their areolas, her head back, mouth wide, a thin line of drool leaving her mouth just before the shuddering scream of pleasure left her swollen lips. Seconds later, Gwen came for the second time. Exhausted, she crawled out from between Tina's legs and fell beside her.

They found each other, standing face to face, atop a high mountain peak: staring up into the sky, their arms outstretched, fingers interlaced, hair whipping round their heads, nipples taut; the wind's force bobbing their breasts and coaxing their clitorises out from their venerus shelters. It was warm, pleasantly humid despite the sheer altitude, as the storm rumbled closer. Gwen and Tina felt the tremors of excitement in their jaws, just as they had during some recently shared rapturous ecstasy. 

Peering through the gathering clouds above, Gwen and Tina saw a perfect circle of star speckled night, as if a hole had been punched through the atmosphere. Blinking through whipping strands of black and blonde hair, they squinted into the eye of night and came to realize that the specks of star light had grown brighter and were then actually plummeting toward them. Unafraid, Tina and Gwen, their arms still raised, stood firm. They watched a virtual shower of tiny star baubles of light raining down all around them; the sound of their falling like a siren song, a vacillating harmony between alto and tenor.

Down they fell, gleaming baubles, glimmering crystals and sharply faceted diamonds. Gwen and Tina shut their eyes, a reflexive act as they felt tiny thuds and pricks crash against their heads, faces and arms. Then, as soon as the shower started, it ended. The siren song remained, though basier in tone, masculinized. Slowly, Tina and Gwen opened their eyes. Across the summit below them, undulated a blur of shining wet flesh. As she stared, the flesh separated out and grew into cloudy ice cream dollops of olive bronze, dark tan and pale pink. The fallen stars had become thousands upon thousands of Jules, Loves and Domeniques. Naked, drenched and gleaming, they continued to undulate; seeking each other, pairing, forming in trios, quartets, quintets, sextets and heaping clusters of interlaced legions of lovers. Fingers fucked and scratched, tongues slipped, lips dragged and faces, pussies and asses dripped with the nectar of their unions. Even the mountain side upon which they clung morphed to join the ecstasy: hungry mouths opening with flexible stone tongues to lick, suck and devour, crag born rock cocks jutting from pools of nectar and then filling a Love ass here, a Jules mouth or a Domenique pussy there. Suddenly, Tina noticed that a few, that had not yet partnered up, were advancing toward them. 

Then it came, the first flash; bright powder blue light turning the night sky to day. Scant seconds later, Gwen and Tina heard a quick sizzle, crackle and hiss, and the sudden cracking explosion of thunder. The mountain, their mountain, shook beneath them. Gwen lost her footing, but Tina quickly caught her by wrapping one arm around her waist and reaching the other to grip the crags just beyond her feet. Soft, loving hands caressed their toes and reached for their ankles and wrists. Tina and Gwen rode the resounding rumble, feeling its vibration rise up from the bottoms of their feet and up into their very cores. They took deep breaths and smelled the comforting musk of wet pussy as they brought themselves back up to standing. 




Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 07



Their footing regained, Gwen and Tina resumed their upright, tight legged stances, their arms out, palms up, eyes staring boldly into the vast clouds overhead. The eye of night was once again obscured. The two women felt the warmth of caressing, probing fingers and mouths against their calves, thighs and pubis's. We gather the world around us, spoke the silence between their thoughts. we are the seeds of love, the rich soil of passion and the cleansing waters of temperance. We are the garden, the lush heart at its center and the writhing, embracing vines, limbs, branches and fronds that flourish around us; dripping and drinking the nectar pooled from blossom to supple blossom. Gwen's and Tina's eyes shimmered wetly as they watched the jagged fork of impossibly brilliant lightening rush at them, to create union with them, to fill them with the singularity of The Goddess's indefatigable love.

The thunder was deafening. Gwen and Tina saw stars. Silence rang; the silence between thoughts, the unspoken urgings from between the Goddess's lips. The smell, the air; aromatic with her musk. Breathing more deeply now, like gentle waves lapping at the softest white sand. Rose petals strewn across a bed, fresh cotton sheets; the breathing louder, heart pumping harder. The feeling suddenly firm, material, mattress, satin skin; fingers coming awake, dawdling their way to the pussy between her thighs, and then to the swollen wet lips. What is love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more. Love is a feather that hits you like a hammer. Where am I? I can't remember feeling this good first thing in the morning. Is it morning? Oh that's so good. Who is that eating my pussy? Tina drew a great breath, whimpers catching in her throat, arching her neck, feeling plush pillow, inhaling the question: do I know whose scent that is? Then the memory hit her, a slap of clear recollection snapping her awake, eyes wide open to gaze upon the empty space beside her and then to the picked through pile of clothes in the corner of the room beyond the foot of the bed.

"You silly twat!" said Tina through an ironic laugh as she crawled out of bed, "There goes Tokyo. Go go Godzilla."



Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 08



Tidings Of Comfort And Joy 

1

Thursday, December 6th, 11:21 pm

Domenique, just drunk enough to still be in control, signed her name to the release waver. Manny, the boy faced bouncer, stepped in, took the document and the pen and carried it away. Domenique then sat back and tried to relax as Love sat upon her lap. She stared into her former lover's eyes, desire burning in their black depth. Slowly, Love drew her lips closer to Domenique's. Domenique reached a hand to Love's cheek, stopping her advance. The burning look in her eyes dimmed slightly from Domenique's small measure of control. But, as they sat there, the audience watching their every move, Domenique knew the tiny gesture held the force of manacles.

"You remember what I did for you, don't you." Love said.

"You helped me clean up." Domenique answered, anticipating that Letreese Coble would dredge the past as soon as she had the opportunity.

"Yes; I did. Yes I did, and how did I do it?"

"With; with your love."

Domenique stared sternly into her former lover's eyes, and then, ever so gently, grazed the ghost of a kiss against her bottom lip. Love breathed her in, sniffing Domenique's cheeks and neck with barely contained hunger. You're so beautiful, sang a happily sad voice from the club's speakers. The audience was virtually silent. 

"My love; that's right, and how did you pay me back?"

Domenique looked away, unable to muster an excuse. As Domenique's silence lingered, Love reached small fingers to the buttons of her dance partner's blouse and began to unfasten them.

"Oh, nothing to say now?" Love continued.

Domenique looked up quickly.

"Love-" she pleaded.

"No no no, don't Love me Dom. Don't; because you couldn't move far enough away to get away with disappearing from my life. All I had to do was be at the movies that night. Don't you remember; kissing and petting your new lover? Yes; I saw you two, so pretty, so free."

Love smoothed Domenique's blouse open, and then, with the deftness of practice, she undid the front hooks of Domenique's bra. Committed, captive, Domenique shrugged out of her winter coat, and then out of her blouse and bra. A hushed whisper trickled through the crowd. 

"I didn't expect for us to be lured;" said Domenique, "Or were we hunted? Just, please: let me go try to fix fix this with Gwen."

"Please;" Love answered, sucking her teeth, "you're the huntress here."

With that, Letreese Coble let her vest fall to the floor, and in one serpentine movement, let her hard left nipple drag along the edge of Domenique's top lip. Tickled, laughing in spite of herself, Domenique uttered a hungry moan.

"I left because I just couldn't dance anymore. " she said, "It was too much, night after night."

Domenique looked down and saw that Love had spread her legs. Then, tugging the face of her thong aside, Love revealed her diamond shaped pubis to Domenique. She stared, transfixed, her mouth suddenly starting to water. 

"Oh," Love sang, "But now you have Gwen to perform with and your own select group of adoring fans."

Domenique, silenced once again, looked down at her own exposed breasts and rock solid nipples. Then, feeling Love's face moving in closer, Domenique Quickly glanced up into her deep black eyes, and watched as she brought her lips in close.

"What do you want from me Letreese?" sighed Domenique.

"Please Dom." Said Love, speaking the words against the other's lips, "You know exactly what I want. I'd like to be recruited in your little army of carnal delight."

The next thing Domenique knew was that Love had grabbed the edge of the table, lifted herself up and spread her legs so that her pussy was scrutinizing her old flame face to face. Domenique drew in a great breath of Latreese's slightly parted bubble gum pink flesh and the soft brown vertical mouth around it, and savored its provocative, familiar fragrance. Seconds later, Love rolled her lower body up the rest of the way, and then swung it back down so that her ass came to rest on the table's edge.

"Now come and join me on stage," she said, beaming at Domenique, "Like old times, and let all these folks get a good look at that delicious looking pussy of yours." 

2

Friday, December 14th, 12:07 pm 

More than a week later, Tina's pussy was still salivating over having had Gwen all to herself. Yet, there was more to it than just her hunger. A war raged inside her head as Tina wiled through her time at work, wandering from booth to booth; her customer to customer conduct shallowing with each passing hour. Tina had told herself she wouldn't try to call Gwen. Their one on one was all that she thought it would be. There they lay, hot, spent and embraced as they succumbed to sleep. Then came the moment, at the dawn of waking, when Tina anticipated that Gwen would be waking with her; until she knew in the next instant, a ghost of a scent in the air and a familiar coolness in the bed with her, that Gwen had opted to disappear during the night. But, of course Tina couldn't stop herself from calling and texting and texting and calling again and again. Finally, feeling completely stupid and incredibly frustrated, she began a ritual of nightly masturbating to her poster size copy of the magnificent shot of Gwen taken by Domenique those months ago. 

Then, at work, Tina had adopted the habit of staring into the diner's parking lot to search for Gwen's red Cavalier. So her days passed without a significant Gwen event, other than a good jilling to the memory of her. Tina knew it wasn't like her to remain in such a rut, wallowing in self pity, her enthusiasm seriously diminished and her humor stagnant. Which; was why it was such a complete surprise when, one afternoon a week later, she discovered the unlikeliest of customers at table 14.

"Hi Tina." Said Domenique, amiably enough, "It's been a while. How've you been?"

Stunned silent and still, Tina saw that the look in Domenique's eyes didn't exactly match her smile. Awkward and afraid, Tina's eyes darted and took in the woman seated at the other end of the table. Dressed for warmth, her over sized beret' covering her hair, the exotic dancer was barely recognizable.

"I've been; fine." Tina answered finally, wanting to be somewhere, anywhere else but that very spot as she pulled her order pad and pen from her apron, "What can I get for you?"

"I'd like to introduce my friend," said Domenique, glancing at the stripper, "This is Letreese Coble. Letreese? Tina Sorenson."

"Hello." Said Letreese, giving Tina a warm smile and a small wave.

Tina smiled slightly and nodded.

"Would you like to hear the specials?" asked Tina, trying to move the moment along.

"Where's Gwen?" was Domenique's answer as she studied her menu.

Tina averted her eyes and began to tap the point of her pen against the top edge of her pad. I have nothing to say, she thought. I have nothing to hide. Suddenly, Tina shrugged.

"I have no idea." She said, settling her gaze on Domenique.

"Really?" Domenique said flatly; meeting her eyes, "No idea at all?"

Tina kept her eyes on Domenique's as she wagged her head slightly, suddenly not caring if she believed her or not.

"That's too bad." Domenique continued, glancing again at her companion, "Letreese and I wanted to invite you two to a little get together at Letreese's place."

"Get together?" repeated Tina.

"Yeah, you know; a get together, just the five of us."

"Like I said. I have no idea where she is."

"Well how about you?" asked Letreese, looking up from her menu and smiling broadly, "Why don't you join us? We'd love to have you."

Tina's brow furrowed as she glanced from one woman to the other and back again. An odd jumble of feelings roiled in her belly. Domenique must know that Gwen had told her everything. Love, Letreese, has to know too, and was probably herself victimized by the woman once or twice or more. Or was she safe? What if they, thought Tina, had an all together different relationship? And where the hell is Gwen anyway? Why hadn't she walked in with these two? It's been over two weeks! God I hope she's okay. I should just say no, that's it. Right? I mean; wouldn't I be betraying Gwen if I said yes? Wait. What if Gwen; made it up? Tina started to open her mouth. Oh who the fuck am I kidding? 

"Okay." Said Tina suddenly, "When?" 

3

Sunday, December 16th, 8:12 am

Jules lay alone in her bed, a lingering hint of Mr. Sullivan still in her pillows and sheets. She'd have changed them weeks ago, but she'd been working back to back shifts at the hospital. It was a scheduling nightmare just to get to get a hook up in with Gwen, Domenique and lovely Tina. I'm so lazy, she thought, I can't let myself wake up to the smell of that old bastard anymore. Jules, dressed in her warmest pajama top and bottom, and two sets of wool socks, sat up, and then went about undressing her pillows and mattress. As she pulled the bed clothing and wadded each article up, her thoughts warmed to the ladies; particularly to Domenique and Tina. Nearly two weeks had passed since their last interlude, the afternoon she'd been introduced to Tina. Oh my God, Jules mused as she brought the pile of soiled sheets and pillow cases to her washer, I had such a good time. Tina was cute. But she won't call me. She's stuck on Gwen, but different then how Domenique is stuck on Gwen. Jules tucked the load into the washer, added a few more soiled items from the hamper, and then suddenly stood stock still and thought: Come to think of it; Gwen or Domenique haven't called either.

Suddenly, as if by some ghostly presence or by random divine contingency, both her phone and door bell rung at once, and startled Jules. Perplexed as to which to answer first, she shifted her body toward the kitchen, then toward the front door, and then looked into the mirror in the bathroom. Oh Jesus, you look like shit. Fuck it. Jules slid to the door as the phone continued to ring, and peered through the eye hole. Surprised and a bit unnerved, she made a quick check of the rest of herself, unlocked the two dead bolts, and then opened the door.

"Oh my gosh," said Jules, "Hi! How are you?"

"I'm fine." Answered Tina, her hands hidden inside the sleeves of her pink hoody, "I'm sorry. I know it's really early, and I didn't call first, and-"

"Oh my God, don't worry about it!" said Jules, her attention drawn to the ringing phone just before it finally went to voice, "Come on in!"

"Do; do you want to check that?" asked Tina, nodding toward the kitchen.

"I can check it later. So what's up?"

Tina looked off thoughtfully to her right for a few seconds.

"Have you heard from Gwen?" she asked, turning her gaze back onto Jules's.

"No, actually," answered Jules, her smile fading to a more serious expression as she glanced toward the kitchen, "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Oh no!" Tina said quickly, "I think she's upset with Domenique. I guess she, Domenique, was planning on bringing someone new into the group, and I guess Gwen; uh, wasn't part of the interview process."

"Oh." Said Jules, folding her arms and beginning to shuffle her left foot, "Well, honestly, I'm not sure how many players should be allowed through; let's call it our revolving door intimacy. I mean, the more of us that become involved in the spin, the more necessary health clearance becomes."

"Right," Tina agreed; pulling her hood back and stepping nearer to Jules, "Absolutely. So I was wondering: are you like supposed to be anywhere for the next few hours?"

Jules reddened as a fresh smile played around her lips and a sudden radiating tingle got her clit's attention. 

"This is actually my first morning off in two weeks," she said playfully, her words spoken more slowly, her tone deeper, "What did you have in mind?"

Jules watched as Tina slipped out of her boots and socks, and then gently kicked them back toward the door. Then off came her hoody, her very old Sex Pistols T shirt, and then her jeans. Jules advanced, standing close enough to her breakfast so that she could help her remove her bra. Jules studied the ample glory of Tina's full creamy butter milk white breasts and their hard candy rose nipples. Next, Jules got to her knees and proceeded to remove Tina's thong, and relished the sight of her totally shaved pussy, its smooth pink complexion, its shimmering wet slit, its hooded clit and the glistening white gold mounted green sapphire that rose gently higher and higher with each successive pulse of love blood that pumped into Tina's swelling morsel.

Very excited herself, Jules rose to her feet, went to the door and locked it back up. Then it was Tina's turn to watch her undress. Tina stared, almost having forgotten exactly how incredibly put together Jules really was; her high, gently conical breasts and light pink nipples, her flat tummy, subtlely muscular frame and gorgeously natural red haired pussy. Meeting her again, Jules took Tina by the hand and led her into the bathroom.

Tina saw that the bathroom, tiled and modestly furnished in lavender, was perfectly clean. Jules went to the tub, which was almost as wide as the standard Jacuzzi, and turned on the water. Then Jules stepped to the sink, and went about brushing her teeth while Tina traced her fingers slowly around the contours of her perfect ass. Orally refreshed, Jules stopped to give Tina a very long, wet kiss before squatting down to open the vanity, from which she withdrew a bottle of shampoo, water based lube and two fresh packages of anal beads. Tina looked on, her brow quizzically raised before turning her attention to switching the faucet flow to the shower head.

Presently, Jules followed Tina into the roomy tub, and then set her gear along the edge. Tina, her hair thoroughly soaked, stepped aside so that Jules could drench her hair. A moment later, Jules pulled Tina toward her, and they exchanged hungry kisses for a time under the hot spray. Tina's right hand eventually found Jules's pussy, spread her lips apart, and then proceeded to coax out some of her natural lube. Jules followed suit, but made a point of reaching her other hand around to Tina's asshole in order to insert a fairly soapy finger. Presently, it occurred to Tina that she'd like to wash Jules's hair. Jules agreed, and gently removed her probing digits from Tina's pussy and ass.

That done, Tina then went about cleaning Jules's ass with one or two of her own soapy fingers, which Jules seemed to enjoy very much. A moment later, Tina's partner for the morning reached to the faucet, diverted the water from the shower, and then closed the drain to let the tub fill up some. Jules then leaned over the tub, withdrew a thick foam cushion from the cabinet over her commode, and then directed Tina to kneel on it. As Tina obliged, Jules unwrapped the first of the two packaged anal beads. Then, handing them to Tina, Jules turned to put her ass in Tina's face, bent over to stop the faucet's flow, and then remained that way in anticipation.

Tina took in Jules's beautifully lean shoulders, angular back and smooth round ass, and then picked up the tube of lube before biting and nibbling at various points around the gentle horizontal slopes and deep vertical meridian between Jules's ass cheeks. Then, not thinking at all about it, Tina set the lube back aside, grabbed Jules's cheeks good and tight, parted them, leaned her face in, and then spent the next minute trying to get her tongue inside her fuck buddy's ass hole. Jules moaned quietly with pleasure and reached the fingers of her right hand to feel the place inside her crack where the tip of Tina's nose was. . Tina laughed luridly as she pulled her mouth away and retrieved the lube.

In the next instant, Jules could feel the coolness of the lube being slowly massaged around the puckered slit of her anus, until the first of Tina's fingers slipped inside. Then came the second, and then they were slowly withdrawn. Taking their place was the steadily inserted bead after bright blue silicone bead, until Jules's was filled with them and their ring hung from her ass hole. Jules turned then and faced her pussy toward Tina's mouth. Tina peered up into Jules's sultry green eyes, and reached for a fresh wash cloth. After rinsing her face, Tina went immediately back to work; spreading Jules's pussy lips wide and licking her from hood to introitus and back again, as if she was a quickly melting cone of soft serve vanilla ice cream. Jules whined and whimpered and whispered her name; uttering the same vile, dirty things Gwen would say. Gwen is gone, she thought. Here comes Love or whatever her name is, like Bruce Lee in Enter The Dragon, and she can't take it. So she's gone. I can't believe how stupid I was. This woman is divine, so divine. Jules was craning her neck, moaning more harshly now, her pussy sopping, her body quivering and melting with each pass of Tina's practiced, firm tongue and gentle teeth.

"Oh fuck Tina," she whined, "Oh fuck! I'm gonna' come. Can you, can you keep eating me and slowly, slowly tug the beads out of my ass?"

"Hmm!" said Tina, nodding, sending shivers up Jules's spine.

Jules's slid her feet further apart. Tina grabbed hold of the ring. Next came a series of plinks, plimps and alternating shuddering moans and guttural cries that gradually increased in succession as Jules's neared her climax. Tina had difficulty keeping her tongue on Jules's clit, as she only had one free hand to brace her hip while the other was carefully pulling the string of anal beads from her ass.

"Oh my God Tina!" Jules cried, "Oh my God! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Yes! Yes! Oh! Oh. Oh fuck Tina; yes, fuck yes!"

As she tried to remove the last of the beads from Jules anus, Tina realized, as Jules's began bucking at her mouth, that she wasn't letting them go. Then, with one final surge of excitement, Jules entire body stiffened as she clutched Tina's head tight against her belly. Tina peered up and couldn't see Jules's head because her back was so arched. Suddenly, she heard Jules's come up for a great gulp of air. Her face came into view then, bright red, her eyes wide. Her breaths came fast, like she had in deed survived drowning. Eventually, Jules regained control and realized that she ought to release her grip around Tina's head.

"Oh I'm sorry."

"Neh, chill; it's all good."

"Cool. Okay; now it's your turn."

Tina looked back at the unopened package of beads, and wasn't sure if she ever had that much of anything in her ass.

"I'm not sure I can take it." She confessed.

"Don't worry," Jules assured her, "I'll go easy on you. You'll be fine.

With that, they switched positions, though Jules suggested that Tina remain on her knees as well as her hands. Tina did as such, and Jules moved in behind her. The first thing Tina felt was the smack of Jules hand on her right ass cheek. Then came her lips, tongue and teeth. The sensations became increasingly pleasurable the further down and in Jules went.

"Mmm." Hummed Jules as she began to flick her tongue against Tina's asshole, "You taste so fucking good baby. Mmm yeah."

Spying the floating string beads that had been in Jules's ass, and certain that they'd wash again , Tina lowered to her elbows so that Jules could more easily access her asshole.

"I'm gonna' fuck you good Tina." Threatened Jules between licks, "I'm gonna' fill your ass and eat your pussy right."

And that she did; painting a decent amount of lube around and in Tina's anus, and then carefully popping bead after bead inside her. At first, Tina wasn't sure at all about how her ass felt. But, after having the chance to clench her Kleegles, she realized that her clit began to tingle from the inside, and it actually wasn't a bad feeling at all. Then, Jules asked Tina to stand up and turn around. That, she did. So Jules's went to town; gripping both of Tina's hips tight, lavishing her tongue and lips in both broad and tiny circles and letting Tina fuck the hell out of her face. Eventually, most if not all of her frustration forgotten and the sheer joy of having the gift of another human being's presence and participation lightening her heart, Tina was ready to come as hard as she had the last time she and Jules were together.




Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 08



Attuned, Jules was ready. She removed her left hand from Tina's hip, reached around her leg, and then proceeded to carefully pluck one bead at a time. Tina was shivering so intensely that she could hardly stand, so she eased her back against the wall behind her and braced herself; quaking with each newly removed bead's stimulating her anus and bucking with each new flick of Jules's tongue around her bejeweled clit. A moment more and Tina was howling in sheer delight. With her back against the tiled wall, Tina grabbed her breasts and began to race circles around them with her lips and tongue, moaning with pleasure as she devoured her long pink nipples. And then, having a good idea of just how many beads were left in her ass, Tina felt her orgasm crash through her. Jules felt Tina's ass gripping the remaining beads tight, so let them go to focus all of her attention on Tina's solid clit. Jules sucked and polished it with Tina's rhythm until the pretty blonde woman fell silent. Then, even after Tina resumed breathing, a thin, shrill whispering breath rising through her throat, Jules continued to gently kiss and polish her clit and drank every last stream from her come jetting urethra.

The session finished, Tina and Jules washed each other off a second time. Dried off, turned up the apartment's heat and remained naked for the rest of that morning. Tina watched Jules go about making them coffee, admiring her luscious body and thinking that the world must be perfect because perfect people like Jules and Gwen were alive in it.

"Julie," she said, turning to look out Jules's kitchen window and out onto the street below, "There's a bunch of stuff I think I should tell you."

4

Thursday, December 20th, 11:53 pm

William Bridgewater, formerly known as Billy the schizoid freak, the dude that dragged what's her name by the hair while peeling down the road in front of the school the winter of sophomore year, now had a new life, a beautiful wife, two little boys, a cute little colonial and a nice mid size S U V. Mrs. Bridgewater, Ashley, was on her knees at the foot of the living room couch, sucking her husband's cock while he watched a DVD from his lesbian porn collection. She didn't mind, not that much anyway, as he watched his favorite porn stars do their thing over the top of her bobbing head. Billy still told her every day, even when he'd get that far away look in his eyes, that she was more beautiful than all those women combined. It was just that he needed a little extra push, that's all. He was too young for Viagra, at least that's what he believed, and he really didn't much like to have to take another pill because that's all he ever seemed to do. So he watched the brown haired chicks eating out the blond chicks because he hadn't liked watching the black haired girls since what's her face pressed charges. Brown hair, blue eyes and high, perky tits worked for Billy. That's why it was nice being married to Ashley. She had blonde hair, blue eyes and maybe not so perky tits, not since Jacob and Kyle sucked up the best of them. But, when she got to bobbing his meat and she made those little noises, Bill could almost swear that it was really Jesse's face he was fucking.

"Billy?" Ashley whined after coming up for some air, "Can I get on top now? Maybe; maybe you'll come faster."

Mr. Bridgewater sighed as he tried to look around his wife. Ashley went for the remote by his side. But, like a viper, Billy's hand captured her hand and began to squeeze; not too much. Too much would get the cops over here again. Just enough would do the trick. Ashley looked away, and waited to get her hand back.

"You're ruining the mood Ashley." He whispered.

"I'm sorry. Said Ashley, speaking softly, her eyes still averted, "I didn't mean; to. My neck hurts. Please let me just; get on now."

For a moment, he stared in that penetrating yet blank way of his. She wasn't seeing it. She didn't want to see it, but she knew that's how he was studying her, the spastic little maniac inside his head trying to bend the bars of his cage, to reach through him and make him reach his fingers around her throat. . 

"Sure." Billy finally said, "Get on then."

As Ashley got to her feet and generously licked the fingers of her right hand and wiped them between her nether lips, Billy raised the volume of the TV just loud enough to drown the tiny snores coming from the baby monitor on the end table. Then, Billy's dick still wet from his wife's mouth, Ashley eased onto her husband's lap and stuffed his little chubby into her Zoey Monroe blonde haired pussy.

Having settled her cunt onto Billy's cock, Ashley's pussy sweat began its usual heavy flow. And sure; such a cascade of pussy juice had its advantages, but they were more for Ashley and far less for her husband. In order to keep his cock from slipping out, Billy had to concentrate and grip Ashley tight about the hips, which was a huge inconvenience when all he really wanted to do was listen to Zoeyand imagine her fucking him. But, maybe, this would turn out to be a good session; the kind of romp that started with the usual head, Ashley complaining, Ashley coming, and then Billy's not coming because her pussy was always so slippery when wet, until she invited him to stick it in her ass, which was always nice and tight. So there they were: Ashley grinding and squishing, saturating the cushion beneath him, while Billy just; waited it out. So Billy waited; reaching the fingers of his left hand around his wife's ass so that he could while his time by spreading some of that great gush almighty into her little asshole. A few minutes later, Ashley began to whine with her impending orgasm. Thankful, Billy heaved a sigh of relief. Christ, he thought, she's so slick; I can't feel my dick in there. Then, Ashley came, chest heaving, heart thumping, and covering her mouth before something that might wake the kids came out. Billy let her settle before he lifted her and switched positions, helping his wife spread her knees across the stretch of pussy juice saturated cushion. Billy looked down at the still swollen red head of his cock and Ashley's pussy lubed asshole. With his right thumb, Billy pushed his head down while pushing the rest of his meat in with the gentle force of his hips. Pop; went his weasel, coaxing a whimper from his wife. Oh just shut the fuck up and take it, he thought. Eventually, as Ashley got more comfortable and as Billy got his rhythm, he remembered how much he enjoyed the feeling of his wife's asshole squeezing his cock just right, reminding himself that he should be more thankful. Meanwhile, Ashley had started rubbing herself off another climax, which was fine by Billy because it only served to squeeze his cock even more, extending his pleasure. So there they were, Mr. Bridgewater fucking Mrs. Bridgewater in the ass, rocking the couch and sending a tremor up into the wall and causing the 18 by 24 picture of them at their wedding to shake slightly out of place. Then Billy heard it; a sort of scratching, squeaking sound just beyond the bay window behind him. His thrusts stopped. Ashley's hair stopped bouncing. She turned.

"Why, why'd you stop honey?"

"Shh!" Billy hissed, "I heard something outside."

The sound came again; maybe an animal, a winter starved raccoon or dog? Billy, his dog train of thought reminding him of how the males remain stuck in their females led him to briefly debate whether he should carry Ashley along to the window while still engaged deep in her ass. Then the sound came even louder this time, and he felt his anger at being disturbed as he made Ashley's teeth clench with the sudden removal of his very hard dick from her petite rectum.

"Oh be careful Billy!" hissy whispered Ashley as he approached the window, "Don't get any of my ass gunk on the curtains! I just washed those!"

Billy gave his wife a side long glance, and reminded himself that he would think twice next time before marrying for the sake of securing long term pussy. Standing close to where the curtains met, Billy stopped to listen again and try to peer through the space of night between the seams. Through the space, he could see that another snow storm was raging in its quiet way, and then realized that he should go and turn on the porch light. Billy reached, flicked on the light, and then stepped back to part the curtains. It was then that his cock began to disengorged; its blind head descending to face and then bow to the words written across the outside of his bay window: "Billy has a tiny little dick." Ashley, covering herself with two throw pillows, gave a shudder, which served well enough to cover the laughter that almost spilled out before she got the chance to cover her mouth. Billy scrambled to the door, unlocked it, and then burst through the storm door to see a figure standing on his steps. The individual was dressed in baggy white jeans, a clean white hoody and was wearing what Billy understood to be a Casper the Friendly Ghost mask.

"What the fuck!?!" he exclaimed as the figure advanced one step.

In the next instant, Billy was too astonished to see the figure quickly raise a small object toward his face, and then spray him with a good dose of mace. Screaming and howling like a stuck dog, Billy scratched at his eyes while his shriveled dick and raisin ball sack became hidden inside the brush of his pubic hair. Casper watched and heard Ashley scream and run into the kitchen. It was then that the not so friendly ghost gave Billy a well placed kick in the crotch, rendering him keeled and dry heaving. Seconds later, Ashley came back running, a very large and pointy kitchen knife raised high in her right hand, the throw pillow covering her pussy still held in place with the left. She found her husband on his knees, groaning and sobbing. He was half in and out of the house, already a half inch of fallen snow covering his head. Cautiously, Ashley peered through the open storm door, , her knife raised, and saw that the masked intruder had disappeared into the quietly raging snow.

5

Red, yellow and green light jeweled outlines of trees, bushes and houses still brightly shown through the falling snow. The weather forecast called for increasing blizzard conditions, and folks were advised to remain at home. As for Gwen, driving was still manageable, but she thought she'd might never find her way back to her retreat if she hadn't made a digital voice record of each house's display and its associated turn along the route. She'd found an appropriate sanctuary online, a nudist Buddhist bed and breakfast, secured a couple weeks of overdue vacation time and booked herself a room.

Since the age of ten, when she'd discovered masturbation, and while her siblings were fully embroiled in their teenhoods, Gwen was always finding quiet places to hide. It didn't matter; whether it was a strategically placed card board box in the attic or an open meadow beyond the neighbor's farm, Gwen would find her solitude away from the standing room only chaos at home. Isolation was curative, a means of healing, especially on the warmer days, among the tall grass and wild flowers; the golden sun shining down on her naked body while the juices of her introspection ran down her inner thighs. In time, Gwen's fondness for seclusion led her interests toward meditation and Eastern philosophy, which proved helpful through the post traumatic stress aftermath of the trial by Billy.

Gwen had arrived safely enough at the base of the hill upon which the unusual bed and breakfast took dominion, but had no chance of getting the car any further up the slope. She cut the lights and then the ignition. In the silence, Gwen listened to the soft static of the steadily falling snow. Her wind shield obscured, Gwen looked down at the passenger seat beside her and the friendly smiling white mask set upon it. It's vacant shadow eyes stared back at her. Her heart still racing, Gwen smiled a thin but broad smile before stuffing the mask into her glove box.

Lounging perfectly naked by the B and B's temple hearth, were two women and four men. Three patient knocks upon the sanctuary's entrance suddenly broke their holy silence. The proprietor of the establishment, Eashwari Childress, graced with the ageless beauty, luxurious black hair, and rich sienna brown skin of her mother and the stature and glowing lapis blue eyes of her British father, looked up from her needle point. A wave of glances passed among the guests. One of the men, Mr. Harris, gestured for her to remain seated while he rose from his armchair. Setting his news paper down, the retired ex cop from Hoboken went to the door. Peeking through the eye hole, Mr. Harris appeared to recognize who was seeking entry at such a late hour. He opened the door, smiled, and stepped aside so that all could see Gwen undressing and hanging her ice encrusted clothes on pegs set eye high on the mud room's right wall.

"Evening Gwen." bid Harris as he admired her more like a piece of art rather than something sweet to put himself into.

"Hey Mr. Harris." Gwen responded, offering her own smile as she tugged the two pairs of thick socks from her feet and then pushed the white panties down to her ankles, "Hi everyone. Sorry to be getting back so late. It's pretty rough out there now. I'm sorry Eashwari, but I had to park my car at the bottom of the driveway."

Harris returned to his seat and paper. Eashwari regarded her guest with an expression that was somehow both loving and indifferent. Gwen pulled the sports bra from her body, and then tucked it , along with her soiled socks and panties, into a white plastic bag she'd hung there earlier. Naked and damp, she took the plastic bag, stepped into the room, and closed the door behind her.

"I apologize for any inconvenience, Yogi," said Gwen as she advanced to where Eashwari, sat, "But I believe I'm far enough away from the road so that I won't be plowed in."

Eashwari, as naked as her guests, but covered by the brilliantly colored sari she was working on, raised her gaze to meet Gwen's. Though appearing quite young, thirty or so was Gwen's guess, Eashwari was actually twenty years older than that. She was the picture of health, worldly, wise and so captivatingly, naturally stunning that Gwen found it hard not to stare. Gwen was grateful for the last two weeks of her retreat and for the hours and hours of conversation and instruction she'd gotten from this splendid human being.

"Ms. Travvers." she said in gently accented English, "You have attended to your business?"

"I have." answered Gwen, bowing her head and clasping her hands before her sex.

"And the answer is?" asked Eashwari, her blue sapphire eyes boring into her soul and seeing the truth inside.

"The answer is still love yogi." Gwen answered.

A gentle smile played around Eashwari's lips as she gave Gwen a slow nod. Gwen bowed slightly, wished her hostess and her fellow guests good night and then turned toward the stairs that led to the second floor.

Gwen's room was a warm beige and pale violet accented open space with wall to wall Indian patterned carpeting, furnished with a throw pillow covered futon, flanked by pots of dormant orchids, a painting hung on the west wall of the goddess Derga pulling out the entrails of a beautiful young woman and an alter to Shiva, her sculpted likeness centered on a shelf mounted against the east wall, sticks and cones of incense laid out before Her. She crossed the room and tossed the bag of soiled clothes into her open suitcase. Pausing to study the now familiar space, Gwen took in a great breath of the jasmine that permeated the air, its exact source still a mystery. She moved into the small bathroom, and studied her reflection as she unbound her black hair, and then brushed it loose around her shoulders.

Ghosts rioted at the back of Gwen's mind, and as she peered into her own eyes, she imagined them struggling to kindle her pain. There was Domenique; crushing herself against Love while Jules tried to pry them apart. There was Tina, crushing her love against Gwen, and there was Billy; devil horned and bat winged as he poured gasoline over them all. she took a huge risk, painting her message on the Bridgewater's window, pepper spraying Billy and kicking him in the nuts. But, she'd done it. She survived and she felt satisfied; for now. So much for her spiritual health. Eashwari certainly wouldn't have approved. Or, maybe she would have, if Gwen had given her the full story: 

bloodied lips, black and purple bruises across her ribs, shoulders, thighs and calves, big kitchen knives to her throat, ankles bound, hands left free because Billy liked to see her try to fight him off.

Gwen turned away from her reflection suddenly, angry for having reminded herself of how stupid she'd been. She set her brush down, and then stepped back into the bedroom.

She stood in the middle of the room, regarding the contents on the desk; an empty Suzy Q wrapper, a nearly empty bag of cherry Twizzlers, her iPad, a half dozen pens and pencils, a notebook and her make-up case. She hadn't applied a single bit of the stuff over the last two weeks, but she'd used the case's mirror to inscribe her notes backward, like Leonardo Da Vinci had done when recording his journals. Gwen turned toward her bed and eyed the ancient wash worn teddy bear that had always been around for crying fits. It was what she opted to take along, rather than bring her trusty little bullet. Whether she followed through with her Billy closure or not, she intended to leave Eashwari's nudist Buddhist hide away a new woman. Gwen's intuition, the advisement born in the silence between her thoughts, the muted yet open mike from which the Goddess spoke to her, had failed her. Domenique had failed her, and so Domenique was gone and their four member sex carnival troop would be the show that was to go on without her. She had two more days to meditate on all that Eashwari had taught her, and after that, she had the rest of her life to get love right.

Gwen stepped to Shiva's alter, lit a stick of ginger and lemon grass incense, blew the coal bright, and then set the stick in its holder. Crossing the room, Gwen dimmed the lights, took a fresh bath towel, laid it in front of the alter, and then sat upon it in lotus position. In that posture she remained for an hour or more, struggling with her ghosts, trying to silence them, trying to listen to the silence, only to be burdened again by one new viper thought or another; Domenique, Billy, Love and all the other neuro atypicalities that led her away from the truth.

The first thing Gwen realized as she rose out of her meditation was that she'd been crying. The second was that Eashwari was seated on her bed, the dozens of throw pillows piled on either side, naked still but for the time frayed teddy bear cradled in her lap.

"Yogi."

"Ms. Travvers; you realize that I am yogi only in that I teach yoga, and that I am not recognized by any authority as being a teacher of Buddhism?"

"I understand Eashwari. You are a friend giving friendly advise."

"Exactly. Now tell me; why is it you weep?"

"I am a total idiot. I don't know how to put good advise into practice, and I feel that my hate is too great for me to keep to myself."

Eashwari closed her eyes and nodded slowly.

"That is it then: swallow the burning coals of your hate and destroy yourself, throw it at another, which also leads to self destruction or; give in to the craving until you finally arrive at the understanding that hating or loving for desire's sake will never lead to true satisfaction."

"And true satisfaction comes from?"

Eashwari tilted her head slightly, and studied Gwen for a moment.

"Come here girl." 

Gwen looked away, wiping the tears from her cheeks. An instant later, she got to her feet and went into the bathroom. Then, A damp hand towel in her hand, Gwen strode to Eashwari and took a seat beside her.




Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 08



"I think you've learned to like to make a game of risk." Eashwari remarked without looking at Gwen.

And as if Domenique herself had said the words, made the cut, drove the punch, a new rush of weeping possessed Gwen. Crying fitfully, she covered her face with her hands. 

"And I also think," Eashwari continued as she pried Gwen's hands apart, "that you've been taught for the sake of your teacher's pleasure."

Gwen wagged her head in vigorous protest. Eashwari knew Gwen wanted to scream, to slap and kick, to make her denial physical, but the older woman held her fast. She wrestled the towel from Gwen's clutching fist, quickly folded it, and then tucked it into her mouth.

"Don't scream." She whispered, "Bite; if you must. There is no rational to defend hate. If you have been a fool, accept it and never let yourself be a fool again. Gautama Buddha said that just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our past over and over. So bite Ms. Travvers. Let the poison out."

So Gwen sat, her arms wrapped around herself, rocking and keening a thin, high pitched cry. Eashwari remained beside her as the time passed, as Gwen writhed and struggled, wept and ground her teeth until her jaw was soar and her face a slick and puffy mess. Eashwari took the hand towel, and went to wash it out. Upon her return, she bid Gwen to lay by her side. Eashwari then cleaned Gwen's face anew, and then held her close. Together they lay, flesh to flesh, until Gwen began to gently play with the cool, hard nipple of Eashwari's right breast.

"Hello?"

"Hi mom."

"Gwen honey! How are you!?! Burt! Gwen's on the phone! So you're coming up for Christmas, right?"

"Well; I think so." Answered Gwen as she exchanged one last kiss from Eashwari before she headed down to prepare breakfast for her guests. 

"What do you mean you think so?"

"I; I have something I need to tell you."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah; I'm fine. Uhm, I wanted to tell you that, I mean maybe it would be better if I did this in person, but it's hitting me now so I'm doing it now."

"Gwen-"

"Mom, I'm gay. I'm a lesbian Mom. That's; what I needed to tell you. So I've told you, and now it's done."

Silence crossed the line until Gwen's mother cleared her throat.

"Well honey," Mrs. Travvers continued, "Actually, one of your friends called to tell us, but we already had the idea that you-"

"One of my friends? Mom? Who called you?"

"Uh, Tina, I think her name was. But like I said honey; we already; knew. It's okay sweetie. We love you, and it's okay."

Gwen peered out her room's window and stared at the snow swept, ice encased garden behind Eashwari's bed and breakfast. As she tried to remain in control, Gwen's nostrils flared, causing her to smell the lingering fragrance of her hostess's sex across her upper lip. Tina, she thought. Oh Domenique; really?

"Gwen? Are you there?"

"Yes Mom. I'm here."

"So can you make it?"

"Yes Mom."

"Will you be bringing a friend?"



Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 09



Coming In From The Cold

1

"New voice message from telephone number withheld; received on Sunday, December 16th, at 8:13 am."

"Hey Jules. It's Domenique. I'm sorry it's been a while, but I just wanted to tell you that we miss you and that I'd like to invite you to another get together. The thing is that it's on Christmas Eve. I know that's tough, but if you could see your way to joining us for a few of the evening hours, the late evening hours, hmm, it would be really awesome. There's someone I really want you to meet. She's very healthy and limber, and I think you'll enjoy each other very much. So; call me back. Peace."

Jules played the message on speaker so that Tina could hear. It was approaching mid day and the ladies had assumed a new position on Jules's freshly made bed.

"I don't get it," said Jules, tossing the phone aside as she lay on her back, her legs wrapped around Tina, who was seated at her sex, "Why just force Gwen out like that?"

Tina shrugged, her fingers busy caressing Jules's breasts and tugging her nipples.

"I don't know." She said, "Gwen thought Domenique told her everything there was to know, but apparently this Letreese chick was a secret."

"But why;" asked Jules, "Because she's black?"

Tina's eyes shifted from Jules's face to the trail her own fingers were leading, and then off to the bright white winter day beyond the apartment's window. She stared into the clouding sky for a time as her long fingers drew ever closer to Jules's red haired pubis. Tina's thoughts settled on something Gwen had said, something about a Puerto Rican girl, but the memory wasn't substantial enough to challenge the memory she had of seeing Domenique and the stripper, likening Love as the music that soothed the savage beast. Then, still looking away as her fingers gently parted the soft clef of Jules's mound, Tina said:

"No; it's not that. Still, Domenique has some serious issues about something, and Gwen is probably quite turned off by that, and probably by the rest of us too."

Jules was reminded of the tale Tina had told earlier that day, particularly the details of her special interlude with Gwen. She fluffed her pillow more comfortably beneath her head, and then folded her arms behind it. Tina gave her business fingers a good lick, and then returned her full attention to the beauty before her. Clearing her mind, Jules closed her eyes, and relaxed as Tina worked the honey from her glorious red hive. Tina watched her own fingers and palm smoothly turn until her index and middle beckoned Jules's G spot and her thumb work her clit to a reddening shade of hard. 

"Would you have sex with Love; or Letreese," said Jules, her eyes suddenly open, "I mean, if you knew she wasn't a STD risk?"

Tina glanced sidelong as she absently coaxed the honey from Jules's sex. 

"I guess." Tina shrugged, meeting Jules's gaze, "She's pretty. I wouldn't mind trying a little taste I guess, and I suppose I could watch you fuck her."

Jules smiled. Tina smiled back, eased her fingers from Jules's pussy, sat back, pulled the red head's legs down, and then climbed on for a grind.

"But how can we be sure that she's clean?" asked Tina as she gently crushed her body against Jules's, lowering her hips so that the red head could get a good rub off of Tina's pubic bone.

"I'll just demand that this Letreese chick leave samples during one of my shifts." Said Jules as she leaned on her elbows to get a few good mouthfuls of Tina's big creamy breasts, "And if Domenique doesn't think that needs to happen, then we don't need Domenique. Does that work for you?"

"Totally." Agreed Tina.

She felt Jules work her way into a rhythm of grinding, swiveling, and rubbing her clit against her cleanly shaven pubis. Tina thought she might have some serious rug burn later. But, for now, Jules got them too slick for her to feel anything even remotely like pain. Eventually, Jules grabbed Tina's ass cheeks and pulled her closer for the sake of increasing the friction. Then, as their kissing got wetter and deeper, their talk got dirtier and Jules's sheets got sex soppy all over again; until they came together, heaving great rapturous breaths into each other's open, panting, mouths.

2

Hovering her pussy over the dildo secured to the centermost spot on the surface of her personal balance beam, Letreese admired how beautiful Dom's face looked against the flickering lights of her Christmas tree. Domenique stared back, heat in her eyes, remembering how hot Letreese used to get when she watched her practicing her act. 

Dom knew Letreese's attraction had to be inspired by something more than her less than usual stripper body or typical style of dance. It was Letreese that was the superior entertainer, the practiced dancer, the hottest little body at the club, the extraordinarily nimble contortionist. There she was, in Letreese's new apartment, high vaulted ceilings, yards of smooth hard wood floor, expensive furnishings, a big kitchen and a Jacuzzi in the bath, the spoils of a beautiful, intelligent and ambitious woman.

Domenique set her mug of coco, brandy free, on the little table Letreese jokingly described as where she'd put Santa's milk and cookies, and got to her feet. She knew what was expected. The song playing through Letreese's surround sound, Dangerously In Love by Destiny's Child, was her cue. The two women studied each other as Domenique began her dance. As Domenique slipped out of her top, Letreese lowered her slowly blossoming pussy closer to the mounted dildo. She held her legs in a forward split, and braced herself with sinuous arms. You are the drops of rain and I am the sea, sang Destiny's Child while Domenique took her time about unsnapping her way down her button fly. 

Letreese's philosophy was that life was nothing if it was not a perpetual pursuit of one climax or another, an all too finite system of juicy sweet and savory hot sensory exchange, whether under the passive observer's gaze or physically induced by direct, consensual, touch. It was also her conviction that she'd surely die with the death of her sensuality. Love, A K A Letreese Coble, had grown up in a Baptist family that pulled its roots in Alabama, moved up to Illinois, and then finally settled again in Connecticut. In Letreese's case, the fruit had in deed fallen far from the tree, rolled out of Eden and was consumed by the allure of the seamier, steamier, side of life. 

She believed there would be plenty of time for God; after she died. So Letreese lived, enjoying and learning from the work of southern black and white male and female authors, and business women in front of and behind the camera in the porn industry. One day at a time, Letreese secured her freedom, her comfort in an ever changing world until she realized her body, in all its glorious nakedness, was one with the natural world, like a bell jar held against the wilderness. As for her skin, the deep rich brown of it, for herself, her fans and her lovers, it was a smooth and supple suit of armor. Beyond that, there were the black girls who didn't think she was black enough, shooting contemptuous leers at her on the days she'd relaxed her hair, the white girls who assumed her speech and intelligence was her way of disarming or whiting herself, or the older white lady cashiers in the stores who had that look that said there was no way this black woman was going to have the money to pay for these clothes. 

Inside her black woman's skin, through her black woman's better sense, her sexuality and intelligence forging the fire of her confidence and self respect, Love crossed all sorts of lines all the time, and that made the stupid people's stupidity drown in the wake of her substance. In Love, for Love and wrapped around Love, black was in deed beautiful and everyone that truly mattered knew it. Domenique knew it, and she had truly mattered. Domenique still mattered, even after she'd inflicted her violence and left.

Like a plump drop of fresh spring rain pooling at the tip of a leaf, a glowing bauble of Letreese's pussy juice clung precariously from her slightly open lips. Domenique, just a thong's snap away from naked, watched as the bead dropped onto the tip of the black dildo below, and then made a slow, diminishing trail of itself along the head and down the shaft. It hit her then, an ugly memory she would have been astonished to know Letreese had written extensively about.

It was shortly after she'd attacked Letreese; the night the one black customer she'd ever had-handsome, well dressed and accompanied by a small entourage - strode up to the stage, sent a hundred dollar bill sailing to her feet, and then asked her to come and have a seat on the throne of his lap. A hundred dollars was still a hundred dollars, so Letreese lapped the man. Not wanting to upset Domenique, Letreese restricted her conduct and movements to what she'd do for a regular thirty dollar dance. So she danced a hundred dollars' worth, and because it was bad business to be rude, Letreese remained polite, laughed at the right times, gave a minimum of personal information and gently reminded him to keep his hands at his sides for the duration of the dance.

Now fully naked, trying to cut off memories of bruised brown skin and bloodied lips, Domenique noticed Letreese's eyes narrow. She thought she saw the veiled look of disdain Love reserved for her hecklers. Then, Domenique looked down at the artfully shaved out eyes of Letreese's pubic face rise and fall, and then studied its pussy mouth take in the dildo, the beads of its sweat dripping trails to the bottom edge of the beam, an occasional drop making it to the floor below. Soon, she would bring her mouth and tongue to that face, giving Letreese the next thing she wanted. It was Letreese's favorite; Dom working her practiced cunnilingus as her G spot was massaged with something very big and smooth, while she confidently teetered, legs spread, on her balance beam.

What is the value of having the upper hand, DOMENIQUE asked herself as she brought her mouth to Letreese's pussy. Do I really enjoy getting off that much on the come hell or high water? Was it really the safest place in a relationship? Maybe that's it; it hurts too much to be on top. Domenique's smile widened as she planted her first kiss of the night on Letreese's tiny dick of a clit. Yeah right; you love it, bitch.

Domenique didn't have to follow Love up the stage steps that night. But, retreat was no longer an option. Letreese, after all, had taught her that she could be loved, that she deserved it, though her warped sense of self took deserve to mean steal. After her emancipation from foster care, Domenique had promised her Aunt Heather that she wouldn't go into stripping. And she hadn't, not for a couple of months anyway. But the pay beat anything she could collect doing any other, conventional, menial labor at the time. So she found a decent place, worked on her stage persona and eventually met Letreese.

The relationship worked because Letreese recognized Domenique for what she was: a narcissistic viper; a uniquely lovely, broken hearted hammer fist of a woman. She was the top to Letreeses top. Dom knew that Letreese understood that she hadn't run away, but that she took off to give her a break. They were both very intense women; two tops that spent more time getting off as two wrongs trying to make it right. 

As for Gwen and the girls, Domenique's last tryst with them was some of the best sex she'd ever had. So, she couldn't just tell Gwen that the plan all along was to create a system of physical intimacy, a scrumptious buffet of juicy pussy, that would make even Letreese jealous. Sure, Letreese had her adoring fans, but she never slept with them, nor had she met a dancer back stage that revved her erotic hunger like Dom had. Now, the break was over, and like her stage performances, Letreese's timing was just right. 

Domenique saw the shift was coming. It was in the dynamic between Gwen and TINA in how they talked, how they played with each other during their group intimacy. Why else remain behind that night, fain sleeping, and then follow them later. If Domenique hadn't seen the three white roses emblazoned on their billboard, she would have surely beaten the hell out of both of them. So she followed, stopped at the liquor store, staked out, and then followed again until they arrived at the club and Domenique understood everything. In that moment, Domenique realized that Letreese was her way of transitioning back to settling into a new equilibrium of sobriety. Letreese would help her stop drinking again, and when the two wrongs not making a right nature of their top to top love affair drove her to drink again, Domenique would leave and Letreese would move on. It was fucked, Dom knew; but it was also the only way she knew how to survive.

Letreese, now thoroughly lubricated, Domenique's lips and tongue spreading her juices over every single facet of her pussy, took her hard black silicone dick all the way in. Her arms showed no sign of fatigue as Letreese fucked her toy while Domenique spoke silent poetry against her swollen clit. A few moments more, Letreese's pelvis began to quake. Domenique was still very focused , her lips and tongue seeming to anticipate each subtle move of her lover's frantic pussy. Another moment more and Letreese was literally bouncing on her dildo, as if riding a stationary pogo stick. 

Not unfamiliar with how she should proceed next, Domenique held her head rigid, and settled her chin in just the right manner and place so that Letreese could buck against it without any lose to momentum. Letreese fucked her big black balance beam dildo and Domenique's chin with animal ferocity; piston pumping, rolling her head back, her beaded hair bouncing, mouth open in a wide smile, then chest heaving, sweat shining between her breasts, then coughing deep throaty growling grunts of mounting satisfaction. Presently, Letreese's eyes glazed over as her mouth widened and her breaths deepened with the resolution of her orgasm. 

Then, as Domenique stood, Letreese beckoned her closer. Now much too weak, to make her own way off the dildo and the beam, With little effort, Domenique lifted her gently up and off, and then onto the pussy juice smeared gym mats below. There, Letreese lay in Domenique's lap. Spent, her breaths shallowing gradually, Letreese settled her head between Domenique's breasts and gently stroked her drying lips.

"So you sent the red head the proof she needed?" whispered Letreese, her mouth close to the erect nipple of Domenique's left breast.

"I did."

Domenique licked her swollen lips and wiped her cheeks and chin with the back of her hand. She found herself suddenly musing over the qualitative differences between lovers, the scents, their inspiration, their bodies and the distinctive facility with which they used them as weapons in the war of forging, encouraging, coaxing, whatever the truth was, love from sex. I want to have Gwen just one more time , was Domenique's next thought as she played with the smooth, lustrous beads of Letreese's hair.

3

Tina stared absently at the freshly falling snow as she walked with Jules to the front door of Letreese's apartment. She found herself thinking about how old fashioned, as Freddy Mercury and David Bowie had described it, the word love was. Love was the name you gave your baby, boy or girl, after it safely left your body and was placed in your arms. Love, Tina understood , was saying thank you for the things you do for me, for the things you do to me. Jules was right. What they'd had with Gwen and Domenique was a revolving, communal intimacy, a mutually, gratifyingly depraved respite with only the most necessary conditions. Which, Tina liked to believe was a good thing, or at least a good enough thing; seeing as how Gwen wouldn't be there to share in the play.

She had brought along a gift bag of toys, a fruit tray, a vegetable tray and enough cucumbers for a game of Kegel crush. Jules was carrying a box of confections she'd bought from her favorite pastry shop. It was Jules that rang the bell, and it was Domenique, dressed in only a few pieces of jewelry, who answered the door.

"Look at you!" laughed Jules, taking Domenique in, "You're not wasting any time."

"Clothes would just mean more to clean up later." Answered Domenique after exchanging a friendly kiss with Jules and taking the pastry box, "Though I suppose there's something in here I can put on or stuff inside Tina."

"Oh no!" Jules said adamantly, "This is the good stuff, for after. Tina has the Hors d'oeuvres."

Domenique turned her attention to the buxom blonde, and smiled with seemingly genuine warmth.

"Hey doll." She said, leaning in for a kiss, "I'm really glad you made it.

Doll? Bitch; please! Oh my; what is that? Domenique's kiss arrived at her lips, bringing a fragrance that left her suddenly charmed. She recognized it as Slimmy Wu, patchouli at its opening, toffee at its heart and a candy floss caramel at its base. It was nothing she liked on herself. But, on Domenique, her natural scent setting off the minimally applied Wu, Tina could have drop to her knees and started eating Domenique's pussy right then and there.

"Funny," said Tina in her sexy voice; Her gaze shifting between Domenique's eyes and her Perky B breasts and brownish pink nipples, "I don't ever remember you wearing Slimmy."

"Oh I just picked it up yesterday" said Domenique, answering with her own sultry voice as she took the bag from Tina, "Why? Do you like it?"

"It's nice." Tina said quickly, the perfume's spell dissipating the further away Domenique got, "So; where's Letreese?"

Both she and Jules watched Domenique's stout, angular frame and firm round ass as she walked to the kitchen.

"Oh she's just taking a bath."

Domenique put the pastries in the fridge, set the bag on the table, and then turned back toward her guests. She let Jules and Tina study her proud breasts, her flat tummy, the small shadows in the hollows of her hips and the soft brown down of her pussy.

"She'll be out soon."

"I'll just go say hi." Announced Tina, "I have to pee anyway. Which way is the bathroom?"

Domenique raised an eye brow and pointed right. Both Tina and Julie saw the hallway to their left, but not without appreciating more fully the fact that the main room was taken up primarily by a couple of gym mats, a few pillows and a gymnast's balance beam, upon which was affixed something Julie didn't think was quite regulation.

Tina found the bathroom's door ajar, pushed it open, and then strolled right in. Letreese was just about to exit the tub when she noticed the blonde's entrance, and then watched as she stepped to the commode.

"Hello." Said Letreese, her smile cautious as she observed Tina dropping her jeans and panties to her ankles and pausing to let her get a good look at her bare pink vulva and its golden lion head piercing.

"Hey!" sang Tina as she took her seat, "I hope you don't mind. I had to go really bad. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas."

A moment of silence passed as Tina's urine gushed. Letreese watched as the odd blonde took in the large space, its features and accents.

"I'm sorry." She said, her eyes reading the titles of books tucked in Letreese's magazine basket, "I'm just really nervous, and I happen to pee a lot when I'm nervous. Half a glass of water and I'm-"

"What are you nervous about?" asked Letreese as she got to her feet and reached for a towel.

Tina turned her gaze on the woman, and took in her long tight braids, her divine, athletic frame and her feminine charms.

"You really are hot." She said.

"Thank you." Letreese answered as she stepped out of the tub and proceeded to dry herself off, "But?"

"But? Well; uh- "

"Is it true," Letreese interrupted, stepping closer to Tina, still seated on the commode, "What they say about blondes? Do you guys really have more fun? Are you really as dumb as you are in all the jokes?"




Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 09



Tina blushed; half because she felt ashamed and embarrassed, half because she was about to stare eye to eye with Letreese's scrutinizing sex.

"Ask yourself Tina;" Letreese continued, "Did Domenique go back?"

Tina looked away as she struggled for something to say, perhaps a variation of her first apology, but Letreese wasn't giving her the chance. 

"Yes she did. So you know that she's got good taste. Oh, but maybe that's it: taste. Well, try to think of my skin as the milk chocolate icing on a Boston cream pie, only the pie filling is pink, just like you."

Tina was trapped. Letreese set her feet on either side of Tina's knees, and then spread her legs apart, giving the blonde the highly sought after opportunity of experiencing the true essence of Love.

"Come on now." Commanded Letreese, "If you're gonna' sour my mood, you better do it now. Believe me; better to disappoint Dom and me now rather than later. Now taste me woman!"

Mortified by her own foolish ignorance, helpless, Tina wiped herself, and then flushed the toilet. There was always a first time to be seen right through, and here it was. Tina looked up, shamefaced, into Letreese's face before looking back to be stared down a second time by the woman's all knowing pussy. Tina touched her gently at first, feeling her tight, rough, hair and then brought her nose in close. Hmm, she thought, coconut flesh, a hint of lemon, the familiar note of iron. 

Tina reached the fingers of both hands, and gently pulled Letreese's lips apart. So Mr. Owl, thought Tina, reminded of some old candy commercial as she took in Letreese's fragrance. How many licks? In the next instant, both Tina and Letreese were feeling much better. how many licks does it take to get to the jelly Roll center of a jelly Pop!? A good question. Let's find out. A One; a two; a three. Tina was fully engaged as she reached around to grab Letreese's smooth firm ass.

"Oh, but I do think it's fair to tell you," warned Letreese as her clit grew inside Tina's mouth, "There's a good chance you'll experience some degree of; carpet burn, but I don't suspect you're too worried about that right now. My, but are you good at that."

"Hmm." Was Tina's answer to the compliment.

It was about then that she heard Domenique and Jules enter the room.

"Oh Hi! You must be Jules!"

Letreese extended a hand. Jules took it.

"The pleasure's all mine." Continued Letreese, beginning to laugh.

Tina couldn't help but laugh along with her. Sitting back, she turned to look at a vaguely annoyed Domenique and a fairly befuddled looking Jules and, still laughing, said:

"Jules; you really need to try this. It tastes just like chicken."

It was about an hour later, after Jules and Tina put on their own amateur strip show and some Hors d'oeuvres were passed around, when the ladies gathered their toys and met on the gym mats. They slithered around twice, each purring and giggling; lips brushing, grazing, softly slick, warming to each other in turn. A quick round of spin the double ended dildo, Domenique's prize from the grab bag, coupled Tina with Domenique and Jules with Letreese. For the first session, Letreese consulted her grab bag gift, One Hundred And One Lesbian Love Making Positions. 

Tina was given the bottom while Domenique took the top in an over easy. Tina lay comfortably beneath Domenique, getting her pussy thoroughly eaten this time as she gripped her top's ass tight and ate her back with equal vigor. Meanwhile, Letreese and Jules were joined in a velvet rope; Letreese bottoming while Jules topped. Tina glanced over at the two in their spread legged daily grind, and could hear the quiet sand paper friction of their pussy hair.

Round two found the teams switched. Tina took the sex manual and decided that everyone would do a welcome back. It was Letreese's turn to spin the double dildo between herself and Tina to see who would be ass up first. Letreese won, so Tina was to give her first rim job to a black girl while Jules dined on Domenique's little ass hole. It was hard for Tina to keep from laughing all over again, but she managed, and enjoyed licking the inside of Letreese's ass almost as much as she liked the taste of her pussy. As she ate, Tina reached her fingers up to find Letreese's clit, and work ever tightening circles until she made the woman purr.

By round three, Tina and Julie had fit themselves into a session of Saturn's rings. Seated, wrapped in each other's legs, tightly embraced as they eased themselves in turn onto the double ended dildo, their pelvises swiveled in a tandem elliptical orbit, leading them both to the first full blown orgasms of the night. As they recovered, Tina and Jules realized that Letreese had slipped herself between them. Tina marked her face with a trail of wet kisses until she found the hard red nipple of their new playmate's right breast. Letreese turned her head to face Jules. Her chest still heaving slightly, Jules stared brazenly into Letreese's eyes. 

Letreese stared back, extending long fingers into Jules's wild red hair. Then, wrenching the hair tight at the back of her head, Love pulled Jules into a deep tongue probing kiss. Eventually, Tina slipped off of her end of the double dildo and came back up to share in their intimacy; lips locked, giving way, eyes closed, tongue to tongue, nibbling, biting play teeth and ecstatic cat scratches. The three gradually parted, but within a tongue's reach, like three feline familiars napping in a warm spot of sun light. 

Domenique's eyes coveted the sight of them. She advanced, crawling toward them, enthralled by the spectacle of the three women; tonguing like crazed addicts seeking some drug that happened to be down each other's throats.

One by one, the three realized Domenique's approach. They made their move. On all fours they crawled to their lost sister and surrounded her; brushing body to body, lapping flesh and devouring the musk of each of their pussies like estrus crazed prowling animals.

"This won't hurt a bit." Domenique whispered into Jules's ear as she turned to nibble at the nape of Tina's neck.

Tina opened her eyes, a twinge of regret dropping a pebble of itself into the murky pit of her gut. In the split second that Letreese's lips found her, Tina wondered if she'd heard Domenique's whispered words and whether Gwen was somewhere, spiritually broken, beaten and scarred. A second more, and the subtle pain was softened some, muted by the beautiful radiation of Letreese's fingers, lips and tongue. 

Tina's a good girl, thought Letreese , then whispered aloud against her lips before moving her own mouth toward Tina's succulently ample breasts. The breathing and effort among them became a swelling ocean tide in Tina's ears, Domenique now the closest, the song inside the smooth pink cavity of a great shell. Together they rolled, forming a tight fetal ball of pussy to mouth and mouth to pussy. I guess you wouldn't notice me either if I was gone, Tina thought distantly, and I suppose I wouldn't have a reason to miss you. So I'll be ready; I hope. 

Tina quickly recovered from her thoughts and continued eating Domenique with animal ferocity; lapping, salivating, chewing her clit until her entire body shivered. Together they whimpered; Domenique now bucking her pussy against Tina's face, the sound of wet slapping wet. Tina raised her head and as she began to slither her tongue along the rim of Domenique's asshole, she looked up to see the living structure that was Jules and Letreese. She stared as Domenique's shudders were intermittently muffled by her own frenzied jabbing pussy, at the sinuous sculpture of skintight wrapped supple musculature before her. 

Domenique, in her pillow princess position and on the verge of spraying Tina's face with her come, opened her eyes to see Letreese and Jules standing over her and Tina. Letreese, though, was standing on her hands; kissing Domenique and sucking great mouthfuls of her breasts as Jules lapped rapturously at the pretty poking pink exotic delight at the apex between Letreese's steadily horizontal juxtaposed legs. Jules, her legs spread wide, was rubbing herself off as she ate Letreese's downside right pussy. 

Lavishing, Domenique watched Tina join the structure; kneeling behind Jules, cracking her ass open, and driving her tongue deep inside its pretty pink center. Abruptly, Jules came, her tongue wagging furiously at Letreese's gleaming clit, pussy sweat and drool running through Letreese's pussy hair and Jules's chin, three droplets falling and creating a jeweled ring around Domenique's belly button.

It was after midnight, their bodies spent and draped upon one another on the sticky gym mats, when Tina decided it was about time to pee again. It also seemed high time that she dress and get home too. There was only one bed in the place as well as one couch, and there was no way she was going to sleep the night on a gym mat. Tina crawled her way out of the limp cluster, walked to her pile of clothes and took a look out the window. Seeing that the snow had stopped and that the road was cleared, Tina grabbed the pile and moved toward the bathroom.

Before sitting down to pee, she checked out her face in the mirror, and saw that the effect of the scrubbing of Letreese's pussy hair on her cheeks wasn't so bad. As she wondered if Jules had gotten her lovely red mound sanded down, she suddenly heard the text tone of her phone. Taking a seat, Tina fished through her pants, pulled the phone from a pocket and checked the message.

"Jules!" she whispered into her friend's ear, "We've got to go!"

"Hmm." Sighed Jules as she slowly rose, "But we didn't get to play the cucumber game."

Letreese snorted laughter.

"I can pack a couple up and send them home with you." Domenique laughed as she trailed her fingers around Letreese's pussy.

Ten minutes later, Tina and Jules exchanged good night kisses with their hostesses before finally walking out the door. It was Letreese that closed the door behind them, expressing her desire that they get together again soon. 

As certain as she was that she'd never see Gwen again, Domenique thought there was a chance she'd show up with Tina and Jules. But, she apparently didn't care to exploit the safety in their number. Why can't she just take it, Domenique asked herself as she gathered all the pillows from the mats so that Letreese could attend to them with an antiseptic spray. What's a little pain every now and then? That was just Domenique: crass, abrasive, rough at times. Why shouldn't psychological intimacy have the same friction that made physical intimacy work? What the fuck Gwen! I just want to be the little push you need to push back every once in a while. 

Domenique turned away from Letreese so that she didn't see her lovely face darken. If given the chance, Letreese would see, reflected in Domenique's eyes, everyone she's ever loved or ever hated. They are all rolled up inside her heart, like wound dressings; alternating layers of clean and soiled rags, a system of healing scabbing over and irrevocable infection, keeping her in a perpetual state of spoiling, sabotaging any chance at any lasting love. And if Gwen couldn't see it in her heart to take steadily increasing doses of abuse from Domenique, that was fine. Letreese knew how to take it. She had the heart it took to survive Dom's guilt and pain forged love.

Finished with the job of cleaning the mats, Love rose. She strolled to Domenique, who had hidden her anguish just in time to accept a tender kiss on the mouth. Letreese left her then, heading to the bathroom. Domenique lingered between the living room and kitchen, still whiling through thoughts of Gwen, recalling snap shots of her body and sound bites of her voice. Eventually, Domenique realized that Letreese seemed to be taking a little longer than usual. Had she just gone to bed? It was early still, and she didn't appear tired. Was she upset? Domenique finished up in the kitchen and, after a stop in the bathroom, she verged on the bedroom's threshold, seeing that the lights were off beyond the nearly closed door. 

Domenique stepped closer, hearing muffled whines and grunts, and thought that Letreese had somehow still had the energy to masturbate after all that sex. Pushing the door in and reaching for the light switch, Domenique turned to see a wide eyed and seething Love; her mouth gagged, her wrists and ankles bound against the arms and legs of a chair. The next thing Domenique knew after that was an odd chemical odor in the air and the slight hint of a familiar body soap, before a hand closed a very intense smelling rag over her mouth and nose. Then, Domenique struggled briefly until she found herself suddenly, inescapably, succumbing to sleep.

4

When she woke again, a dull throb in her head and the chemical smell still in her nostrils, it didn't seem as if any time had passed since she'd been knocked out. Yet it had, and it had been time enough for someone to dress her in jeans and a blouse, tie her wrists and ankles to Letreese's bed, and fit a ball gag in her mouth. A shape moved in her right periphery, and she turned to see Letreese struggling, herself ball gagged, trying to wriggle herself out of the rope bonds that held her in one of her kitchen chairs. Then quickly, Domenique turned her head back toward the foot of the bed, and saw Gwen in Letreese's swivel arm chair, relaxed, her fingers steepled, her index fingers pointing at the edge of her chin and wearing nothing more than a Santa hat set jauntily atop her head. 

"I'm very disappointed in you Nique." she said, beginning to swivel the chair slowly back and forth with her toes, "Not a single phone call or text from you in like the last three weeks." 

Domenique stared as Gwen suddenly rose from the chair, kicked it back, and then climbed onto the bed. Making her way closer to Domenique, Gwen turned to give Letreese a cool, side long, glance. 

"The next thing I want to tell you," said Gwen as she came to a stop and sat her naked ass on Domenique's sternum, "Is that you're a pathetic, fucking, bitch."

Domenique stared back coldly, though there was something else there Gwen could see; a shifting, a scared little girl trying to hide behind the bravado. Gwen shot a quick smile at Letreese; she too staring back with her own feline menace.

"The third thing I want to tell you," Gwen continued, "Which I'm fairly certain you already know, but I'm telling you anyway, Is that I fucked Tina, without you, and it was really nice: I mean really fucking nice. Everything about it was perfect; her mouth, her juicy pussy, her big tits; much bigger than yours. Sorry; that was a mean thing to say."

The anger in Domenique's eyes darkened her hazel to a deep viridian; giving the scared little girl more cover.

"I realize now that you don't truly want to be loved." said Gwen, turning to level her eyes again at the beautiful black girl that she'd bound and gagged.

"You're so full of love for your loss that it's perfectly normal, in your head, to retreat to it, and this woman-"

Gwen turned back to Domenique and flung an accusing finger at Letreese.

"Has you under her control."

Domenique began to swing her head quickly to the left and right, as if in strong disagreement.

"Oh please honey." sighed Gwen as she grabbed Domenique firmly by her chin, "Now that the two of you are together again, you have that perfect someone who will always remind you of how precious your loss is. And that's fine. I'm just a little annoyed that you've been such a pussy about it. So, now that you're both under my control, I'm going to give you a taste of my brand of medicine."

Gwen removed her cap, tossed it aside, and then reached into her hair to pull a hard plastic capped exacto knife from her scrunchy. Holding it in her right hand, she crawled forward until her pussy was covering Domenique's nose. There she remained, feeling Domenique's hot breaths until they became labored under the weight she happened to be exerting. Then she leapt from the bed, a red faced, air starved, chest heaving Domenique in her wake. 

Slowly, Gwen stepped to Letreese. Love stared, defiant as Gwen stood before her, dipping fingers deep inside her pussy. Then, her face as impassive as a porcelain mask, Gwen held Letreese's head while she wiped her slick fingers across the space between the captive woman's nostrils and upper lip. Letreese began to scream helplessly against the ball gag inside her mouth. Their eyes locked, Letreese watched as Gwen pulled the clear hard plastic cover from the sharp, pointed matt cutting tool. Letreese fell silent as her eyes moved from Gwen's placid face to the light catching edge of the blade in her hand. In the lingering moment, Letreese saw a cool menace creep into Gwen's eyes. In that instant, almost certain that Gwen would in deed cut her, mar her money making beauty in some way, Letreese felt her fear betray her. 

Gwen, still toying with her artist's blade, breathed a sigh of seeming tedium, and then turned on her heels. She hopped back onto Domenique, straddled her chest, smiled, and then poised the blade very close to her right eye. Domenique cringed and swung her head left. Again, Gwen stilled Domenique's head, pressing hard with her free hand on Domenique's brow. Helpless, Domenique squeezed her eye lids tight. The seconds seemed infinite, until Domenique felt Gwen slowly crawling backward. Still unsure as to where the knife was, Domenique continued to keep her eyes shut. Gradually, she became aware of a cold sensation near her neck. Domenique opened her left eye just enough to see Gwen's hand holding the exacto knife at her throat, and heard the sound of material being cut.

"I could just unbutton this," said Gwen, her tone somehow sounding both serene and menacing, "But I'm very upset with you right now, so I'm doing it this way. You should get through this alright, I think. So, just hold still please."

Dominique heard the soft static sound of cut cloth, and felt a series of pricks against her throat and chest. Her eyes were fully open now, and she coolly gazed at Gwen, shifting her eyes from the woman's furious concentration and the pointed knife in her hand, and cringed with the deepest jabs. Domenique observed that Gwen was in deed taking the hard way around removing her clothes, as Gwen now sawed through her bra. Presently, Gwen began cutting the length of Domenique's sleeves until she could rip the shredded blouse and bra from her body. 

Domenique tested the bindings around her wrists and ankles, but Gwen had done a proper job. After all, she had three weeks to herself; plenty of time to plan and discipline her way to a retribution she could be proud of. Gwen began to work at Domenique's jeans, pulling the material away from her flesh with her right and slicing down their length with the left. Gwen ripped their pieces from beneath Dominique, and then slipped her knife under the hips of her French cut panties, leaving tiny nicks above the hollows of her hips.

"You are my palette." whispered Gwen as she pulled Dominique's panties out from beneath her crotch, "You are my canvas."

She turned again to gaze at Letreese and took a deep breath of the most fragrant stretch of Domenique's underwear.

"Rose's are black." she sang, a warm yet crazed expression brightening her eyes and playing around her lips as she jumped off the bed and approached Letreese, , "Violence will do. A knife in your back, my love run you through."

With that Gwen set her foot against Love's knees, and then kicked her over; sending the back of the chair against the floor. Love screamed and squirmed helplessly; her wrists now throbbing. She tried again to work out of her bonds; her hands tied and then bound to another strip of rope across her knees. A minute more, and Gwen came to stand before her, suddenly sporting a very large pink dildo. Letreese saw that she wasn't smiling. Next she knew, Gwen had crouched and began undoing two of the six knots. Presently, Letreese realized she was free, at least free from her chair. Swiveling her head, Love next knew that Gwen was fitting a dog's choke chain around her neck.




Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 09



"Please try to understand," said Gwen as she helped Love to her feet, "And forgive me if I assume too much; it's not like I really know you after all, but this chain doesn't have any significance beyond its use as a tool of temporary sexual enslavement."

Gwen forced a very uncooperative yet easily manageable Love to the foot of the bed.

"You've both made me very angry and very horny, and I'm just trying to get us through to my satisfaction in the most practical and entertaining way. So, I expect your undivided attention."

Gwen then hoisted Letreese's slight frame onto the space of bed between Domenique's legs, and said:

"You like it rough ladies? Then rough it will be; Gwen style."

Domenique studied Gwen's cool stare as she gave Love a stinging slap on her right ass cheek.

"Now," Gwen continued, "I suggest you try really hard to relax so I can fit this big rubber dick in your little virgin ass hole."

Letreese's eyes went wide as she felt the choke chain gradually tightening around her neck. The chain taut, Gwen reached back to pull a small tube of lube from her bag. Slipping the strap of the choke chain onto her wrist, Gwen applied a not so generous smear of lube on the tip of her strap-on and even less around the rosy ring of Letreese's tightly puckered asshole. That done, Gwen shoved Letreese forward, so that her nose poked into Domenique's dry pussy.

"That's right," said Gwen as she began to work the fat pink head of her dildo into Love's tight ass, "You can look, and smell, but you can't taste."

Gwen was doing her best to go easy into Letreese. Her frame was so slight that Gwen couldn't help but be concerned that she'd rupture something important in there if she worked it a little too hard or too fast. So, Gwen tempered her thrusts because each was an expression of not only her desire for both, but her anger at them both. Eventually, having watched Letreese's rosy brown anus gradually accommodate her big pink dick; sucking it in like a hungry mouth, Gwen took the risk of fucking Letreese more harshly. It seems, she thought, this one might not be a stranger to a good ass fucking after all.

For good while Gwen fucked the shit out of Letreese, snapping the choke chain each time her captured sub cried or turned her face away from Domenique's pussy. She had planned, studied, for this night; and so far, she was having a blast being the dom. Gwen had been inspired by the psychology of immersion or aversion therapy; thinking she would glut her subs with enough sadomasaquistic play so that they would either never ever want anything to do with sex again or come back crying and begging for more. She'd learned a great deal during her self exile; how to break into apartments, to make and safely use chloroform, to tie secure and safe knots with nylon rope, how to have a good time dispensing with your own personal kind of masaquistic justice and how to survive stooping to levels you never expected you'd have to. 

Letreese's ass was now primed for more than a few good stabs. Gwen's hard clit, stimulated by the dildo's insert, came to pulse with a fairly decent orgasm. Then, temporarily sated, Gwen came to a stop, gently rubbed Letreese's ass for a moment, removed the strap-on from herself, and then stepped away from her sub, leaving the great rubber dick still firmly inserted.

She helped the whimpering stripper off the bed, and then laid her on the carpet. Letreese, in a fetal position, her expression now pathetic and glazed, felt Gwen binding her ankles again. She then returned to the foot of the bed and eyes Domenique; roving her gaze along her lines, curves and succulent features. Gwen stepped away, came back with a wipe and proceeded to cleanse the bottom of Domeniques left foot. Finished, Gwen parted the curtain of her pussy, revealing a very swollen, red, gleaming clit, and began to rub it against Dominique's big toe, bucking for the friction she desired. 

Domenique, alert and uncertain, watched her last lover grinding against her foot. Gwen's expression was still cool, though a fire of contempt burned in her eyes. Presently, a pre-orgasmic shiver took hold of her body. She began to breathe rapid breaths through her nose as animal moans came stifled behind her teeth. Then, head back and eyes closing, Gwen came, spewing a particularly syrupy coat of vaginal sweat over the better part of Domenique's foot. Domenique watched Gwen's recovery from her orgasm, and then watched her crawl onto the bed. Slowly, Gwen crept forward. The fragrance of her pussy hung in the air as she advanced and found Domenique's neck with her mouth. At first, Gwen's kisses were soft. But, as she slid back down toward Domenique's breasts and ribs, the kisses became trails of roughly sucked hickies and bites. 

Domenique became gradually more unnerved and distressed and strangely enthusiastic as Gwen's teeth grabbed hold of various spots around her flat belly. As Gwen arrived at Domenique's pussy, she was certain that Gwen was using her teeth as well as her tongue to open it. Then the bites began to sting, the pain lingering from mouthful to mouthful, leaving Domenique cringing and whimpering with eyes shut tight. Still, she wasn't sure whether she wanted Gwen to stop or not, as if she could utter the word. 

Finally, Gwen did stop. Domenique opened her eyes again, hearing Letreese grunting and crying on the floor somewhere beyond the bed, and watched Gwen as she got first to her knees and then to her feet. Now standing, Gwen walked to plant her feet along the sides of Domenique's head. She looked down at her and smiled. Domenique was stunned with disbelief, and didn't close her eyes until Gwen's heavy cascade of urine splashed her in the face. And so Gwen gushed her piss, apparently having drunk perhaps a liter or more of water. With controlled effort, Gwen squatted, bringing the fountain's source closer to Domenique's nose. 

Domenique's breaths came in sputters; piss and snot mingled splashes spewing from her nostrils, dripping across her ball gag and chin. Then, with two more short gushes and grunts, Gwen finished showering Domenique. She stood, stepped back and surveyed her work. Domenique's hair was drenched, as was the pillow and space of mattress beneath it. down the length of her body was a system of red and purple bruises, short red con trail slices and gleaming droplet constellations of blood stars.

"There," she said, crossing her arms, "Now I feel better."

Her eyes met Domenique's. Gwen watched slow tears well, then bead a course down her piss wet cheeks. With that, Gwen turned and stepped off the bed. She walked toward her duffle bag, stopping beside Letreese's dildo crammed ass to give the hard rubber cock a little more penetration with the heel of her left foot. Letreese whimpered, and then gave another animal grunt. From her bag, Gwen withdrew her Air, a small bottle and a clean white handkerchief. She set the bottle and cloth on a night table, and then hopped back onto the bed with her Air. After snapping two shots with its camera, Gwen stepped back off the bed, set her Air on the nightstand and picked up the small bottle and handkerchief.

"It's funny, you know," she said, arriving at the space of mattress nearest the right of Domenique's head, "How love still radiates after your heart's been broken. It's like- lightening; when the heat of desire meets the cold of remorse. Is that it Nique, what you feel, but like all the time?"

Domenique looked away as Gwen carefully twisted the top from her bottle, set it on the bed, and then poured a few drops of its contents onto the handkerchief.

"You struck me hard." Gwen admitted, "And you've changed me, but you've certainly let yourself not be worth my love anymore. So, I guess this is good-bye. I'll take the ball gag out before I send you back to sleep for a while. When you wake up, you can untie your old flame here and enjoy the rest of your lives together."

Gwen paused to stare into Domenique's eyes, and saw no fear, no pleading or even the least remorse. What she did see, was calculation. 

"And if you try to come after me," Gwen continued; her expression betraying nothing, her words measured, "Expect the worst. Now; sweet dreams Domenique."

Domenique stared wide eyed as Gwen pulled the gag from her mouth. She tried to utter an explanation or some excuse before the chemically odorous white handkerchief was closed over her mouth and nose, rendering her lights once more; out.

In the pre-dawn darkness, dogs barked as a white clad figure casually made her way through backyard after backyard. The snow had stopped that early Christmas morning, leaving clear vantage to the stars, the lovers, goddesses and sisters that circled in the heavens. The figure trudged over a bank of snow and jumped onto the street below. Ten more paces and the figure arrived at her vehicle, and then wiped fallen snow from its wind shield. 

Gwen unlocked her car and got in. She sat for a time, staring at the purple dawn tinged night sky; the hate in her heart lessening with each new moment, and no tears in her bright brown eyes. Heaving a great breath, she lifted her duffle over the backseat and dropped it. 

"Again, hitting me with a bag?" said Tina, her head popping from the backseat.

Gwen turned her head slightly to view Tina from her right; her demeanor fully composed, her look a warm shade of sly.

"How did you get in my car!?!"

"Jules drove me home, but I took a cab back here. Once I found your car, I jimmied the trunk, and pushed down the back seat. It's fucking cold! Would you turn the heat on for Christ's sake?"

Tina burst out of the backseat as Gwen started her car, and then opened the front passenger door and jumped back in.

"Why didn't you return any of my calls?"

"I needed to think. Why were you there tonight?"

Tina paused, looked away, and then set her eyes back on Gwen.

"Duh, to have sex with people who didn't disappear from the face of the Earth just to think! How did you defeat Godzilla and Rodan?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now."

Tina stared suspiciously at Gwen before eventually turning her gaze toward the lightening dawn. They sat silently together as the car warmed.

"Did you; watch us?" asked Tina.

"I saw everything." Gwen answered, not looking at Tina.

"Oh." Said Tina, casting her eyes down to her lap, "Are you mad?"

"Totally. Answered Gwen, turning to face her, "So now you're going to have to redeem yourself."

Tina met her gaze with a look of apprehension.

"Uh, how?"

"By being my girl, exclusively, until you tell me you need to move on."

A small smile suddenly lightened Tina's face as she nodded. 

"I'm pretty sure I can do that."

"Good." Said Gwen, smiling back, "Oh, and thanks for unlocking the bathroom window for me."

"No problem. Merry Christmas. So, now what?"

"First, I'm taking you to have Christmas dinner with my mom and dad."

Tina raised an eye brow and shrugged.

"Okay." Tina agreed, "And; then?" 

"Open the glove box." answered Gwen as she pulled away from the curb.

Tina did as asked, and pulled out a festively wrapped package. She stroked its red ribbon and bow, a sadness creeping into her eyes.

"I left your gift at home." She said.

At that moment, as a small smile crossed Gwen's lips, back in Letreese's apartment, Domenique sprang awake and realized that she was free. She stared about the bedroom, and saw that Letreese was still on the floor, still bound and still with the dildo protruding from her ass. As Domenique began to move from the bed, she felt something poking at her bruised sex. Reaching down, she plucked the dried rose from between her legs, and saw that it was no longer white, but dyed black.

"I've got what I want," said Gwen, glancing at Tina, "Right here." 

Tina unwrapped the gift, gently parted the layer of wrapping paper inside, and then revealed the two remaining roses. Behind them were two plane tickets to Aruba. Stunned, Tina turned to face Gwen. She fumbled with a few words, only to become tongue tied and to finally break down crying. 

Gwen took her hand. She was no stranger to emotional turmoil, the guilt for succumbing to desire, the fear of saying no to Domenique, while still knowing the love that lived in her heart, in spite of it all. Gwen's forgiveness, expressed in that moment as the smooth stroking of her fingers against Tina's, would grow, and heal them both before the next challenge to their bond.