Lucille Gayles

Pussy can make you do some remarkable, crazy, and unthinkable things, but travel across time for it? I don’t know. Time travel just for a quick lay. Love maybe. Once in a lifetime love, definitely. Fucking? Eh, more or less the same in any time. Why stretch the laws of physics for that? I quickly changed my mind after I met Tempest. My name is Seshat, and I am a Black lesbian time-tripper. Nope, not a time traveler. That’s actually a nobler calling. I mean, a sister might actually be able to help some people out and change the world. Or, on the flipside, be diabolical and gain world power. But like most people, I’ve never lived up to my full potential; one way or the other. Thus, I have often sought out brief moments of happiness through inefficient means, like material goods or drugs. Fortunately, happiness found me genetically and spiritually predisposed to the future.

Time-trippin’ is kinda like traveling through time, but on a minor level. You don’t have control over where you’ll end up; in the future or past. Oh, and you don’t get days, months, or even hours. Five minutes is the most I ever heard, and even then, that ain’t in real time. ’Cause in real time it depends on the body. How long the body can remain in the little death. Time-trippin, ’ you see, is a high. But not everybody can do it. Not yet anyway. But those of us who can do it, can only do so with others like us, time travelers or time-trippers. That’s where Tempest comes in.

Usually when two people are connected like we were…will be, it’s the past that connects them. But I couldn’t remember her from any childhood memories, and my ancestors had stopped talking to me as soon as I’d begun to ignore them for my interests in the future. Yet, if anyone should understand how much the future is the past and the past the future, my ancestors should. Still, they weren’t talking. Despite my being a sexual astrologist who writes horoscopes for a syndicated magazine column, I wasn’t always the physical displacement of time that I am now. The spatialization of atomic matter is far removed from matters of the spirit that I’d been indoctrinated with. My family is from the south. Good Southern Baptists still clinging to the hidden chicken bones in our Vodun closet. But on a crisp December night, at a party (an overstatement of the evening) in Midtown Atlanta, bored and uninterested in the people that surrounded me, I glanced across the room at someone who seemed…familiar.

Tempest. Dark as midnight and just as beautiful. The white cashmere sweater that clung to her delicate curves illuminated her smooth and nearly flawless skin. Her thin, long dreads were sophisticatedly piled into a bun, with soft curly tendrils spilling from the twisted mane atop her head. As if the smile-induced sharp dimples in an otherwise soft face were not enough to excite, neutral lip gloss went a long way in drawing attention to her full plum-colored mouth. She donned black eyeliner and mascara to play up the shape of her eyes, while chocolate eye shadow brought out the already disarming color of them. I innocently watched as she gave a toothy smile to the Taye Diggs wannabe beside her, and he melted. Who wouldn’t? She was captivating, and at the least, looking at her would be just what I needed to get me through at least another hour.

My attempts to drown out the tediousness of mundane and useless conversation were rewarded with what at first was a curious stare. She looked as if she were trying to place my face, but her inquisitiveness turned into amber waves of playful taunts. I smiled and dared her with my eyes to keep watching me. She did. I got caught up. Her eyes were luminous entries into a soul that seemed to be saying, “You looking at me? Look then, but be ready.” Did she really have amber eyes? Or was it a trick of the light? Was it that her skin was radiant, deep and dark enough to make the brown iris glow? But Tempest wanted me to figure it out for myself. She didn’t seem to care about feigning disinterest in me, or interest in the man still talking to her. I averted my eyes down to the drink in my hand, trying to hide the visceral response that she was eliciting from me.

There I was, a thirty-year-old woman who still looked twenty-something. Grown and sexy, caramel complexion with brown eyes. Confident in my casual short blazer, fitted white-buttoned top and mid-length skirt, but I could feel my face blush and stomach flutter from the way she flirted with me. I looked up again, and she gazed back at me from across the room, as if she had been waiting the entire night for me to see her look at me like…like I was naked, legs spread, and getting myself off just for her. Then, I really saw myself through her eyes: ten pounds lighter, sporting a bushy afro, in some killa ass black leather pumps, with a crazy fine outfit; the vision of me that I was becoming. Ump! I could feel myself slipping into the hiccups of time and space to be seduced by her. She turned her attention back to the dark-skinned brother who continued hanging at her side like a pocketbook.

I had been hoping that she wasn’t straight. To say that Tempest was a fine-ass sister would be an understatement. It was clear that she possessed some unnamable magic that merely enhanced her physical beauty. Tempest was the kind of woman I hated seeing go to waste on account of some man. She was strong, comfortable, and poised. Powerful and graceful at the same time. Whatever she’s got we all want to taste, to imitate, to be blessed with, and sanctified by! Men can’t really appreciate a woman like that ’cause they’ll always want only to own her and change her until she looks the same, but really is an inferior version of her original self. Yeah, when I saw Tempest all I could think about was how some other woman had been cheated out of her helping of the sexuality she exuded, and was walking around all womanless because she done got a second helping in the line.

I shook my head, took a swallow of my gin and tonic, and tried to lose myself in the conversation that had started around me. But she was glowing, and if I had wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. I caught myself gazing at her again. She continued conversing with a woman who had joined them. I spied her checkin’ for me again. My heart raced excitedly to let my body know what my spirit had already figured out. For I literally saw my future in a universe of mysterious brown and flecked yellows of green; painted harshly by the hands of desire. In that color of time, we were not strangers as we were moments before. We were flesh melding and melting into each other. I was having visions of her that came with smells and sensations. My imagination was creating a sniff and lick Afronomical lesbian zodiac poster in my mind. I was drunk, but, thanks to her, the party was getting a lot better.

I walked over to the swarm of enamored men and women hanging on her every word and unceremoniously joined the crowd of admirers. She was an academic, a professor of physics writing a book on what she called “black people’s future time paradox.”

“The future has a way of gettin’ all up in your face when it wants to get a message across, doesn’t it, ” Tempest said directly to me, acknowledging my presence in a lazy manner that belied the intense way she had been ogling me before I’d come over. My mouth was dry so I didn’t immediately respond to her. I nervously licked my lips, and she seemed to study that action before suggesting to her rapt audience that “the body is the ultimate future technology that humanity still has not mastered.”

Technology was a force that had eluded me for some time. I was completely inept at any of the sciences and mathematics, but the future had come to me as a Black woman, not a computer.

“You’re vibrating, ” she said, looking at me.

I know, I thought.

I was enthralled by her presence and the consideration she was now giving to me. I dumbly pulled my cell phone out of my interior jacket pocket. I looked down and attempted to collect a voice mail, but I saw only a symbol that I did not understand. Tempest must have seen the confusion on my face, and she boldly grasped my hand on its way to place the phone back into the inside pocket of the blazer I wore. Her touch electrified. Not unlike the rest of my body, my breast responded by offering a protruding and straining nipple to the brief contact she’d slyly insisted upon.

“It’s not voicemail or a text message. Somebody sent you an image to download, ” Tempest said, using my ineptness as an opportunity to turn her back to the group of people she had just been talking to.

“Is that what that thing means? ” I asked, and she proceeded to show me how to download the image. She stood close to me, at an angle, with her breast pressed against my arm.

“Black people kill me, getting technologically advanced shit and then they won’t figure out how to work it.” She spoke quietly, without looking at me.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind, next time I’m trying to download to that iPod that I haven’t been able to figure out for a couple of months.”

“Look at you! ” she exclaimed, showing me the picture that one of my friends had taken of me a week ago. “I guess you look this hot all the time.”

She openly took in my five-foot-five frame in much the same way she had my lips. She slid the phone back inside my pocket and deliberately brushed against my nipple this time.

“What’s your name? I think I missed the introductions.”

“Tempest. And you are? ”

“Seshat, ” I answered.

“Egyptian goddess of the night sky and history, ” she said.

“Nah, sexual astrologist for the insomniac and psychic friends, ” I coyly revealed to her and she laughed, dimples and all.

Tempest was all fishnets, garters, and high heels with bohemian sex appeal that made me forget my ennui. Where I was crunk: unpolished, thick and curvy, she was jazz and soul: sophisticated, svelte, and shapely. I had already taken in every inch of her body. I knew that I would zig where she zagged. We would fit each other in the most utterly compelling intimacy.

“This is gonna sound like a line, but I swear to God that I know you.”

She leaned into me and, with her lips pressed against my ear, whispered, “Maybe we’re meeting in a past life or something.”

I caught a whiff of her perfume, but under that light floral scent she smelled even more divine.

Forget the past and the present. The future was fucking me into oblivion. Tempest had invited me out to her car to, “Get high, ” she said. The backseat of the Chrysler 300 SI we slid into was roomy enough for two women to stretch out.

“Nice, ” I said, running my hand over the plush fabric of the backseat, but all nervous banter halted the moment I placed my hand on her stocking-covered thigh.

“I didn’t come all across time for flirting, coy looks, and soft touches, ” she said, intrepidly unbuttoning my blouse enough to expose one of my naked B-cup breasts to the warmth of her small hands.

I responded by slowly pressing my lips to hers, afraid that once I kissed her she would be gone or I would wake up. And when I realized we were both still in the here and now, I brushed my mouth against hers, again and again. With each breathless kiss, my lips gently touched and demurely suckled Tempest’s halfway-parted lips as she passionately whispered, “Fucking tease, ” repeatedly against the pressure of my lips. She caressed my nipples with the palm of her hands.

“You’re a fucking tease, ” I moaned, right before my tongue tasted and fully parted her lips into a heady kiss that forced our bodies down onto the backseat.

What had slowly started as soft and sensual had quickly turned hard and nasty. Tempest expertly sought out my lips, and her tongue plunged in and out my mouth in a way that left me panting and hotter still. I tore away the stockings covering her legs so that I could feel the sweltering heat rising from her skin. My fingers inched toward her inner thighs, parting them until I came into contact with wet heat. Her hands were everywhere and nowhere. Not at all concerned about who might see through the fogged windows of the car, we undressed until we were both completely naked and writhing alongside each other. I rubbed my slick cunt against her hand in wild abandon, and she lowered her mouth to one of my breasts and ardently used her tongue to lavish my areolas with jolting sensations that made me wetter. As I crept nearer to the edge, I watched her from under hooded lids talk dirty to me and revel in my debauchery. This is what I’d seen in her eyes across the room. Desire and hunger that could consume and ignite at the same time. She’d seen it in me, too.

When I was as close as I could be, Tempest stopped talking. She ceased stroking, and she contorted us both into a position in which she could glide her sopping wet pussy against my eager mouth. She smelled like wet moss and musk. It was painful and uncomfortable, but the feel of her silken thighs on each side of my face made me ache for the taste of her, so much so that I didn’t protest when she roughly bruised my mouth and suffocated me with the swollen lips of her cunt. She felt smooth. I caressed and palmed her ass while I lapped at her bald lips and girl-hood. Outside she tasted like good curry, flavorful and exotic. And the rest like oysters. I morphed my tongue into a spongy dick that she fucked so thoroughly, I thought it would shoot a load.

“Feels good, ” she gushed and whimpered in response to the way my tongue penetrated the inside of her. “Lick it. Lick it good, ” she hungrily commanded as my tongue lapped her protruding clitoris into a rigid and raw mass of painful longing. “Christ, there’s never enough time with you! ” she exclaimed, and I damn near choked; trying to swallow the juices from her climax.

It was all for her. Time had stopped just so that she could get off. At least that’s how it seemed when she was approaching her third orgasm of the night. She was quick, but I had yet to be released from my state of sexual animation. I lay completely naked under her, feverish and animalistic, uninhibited in the way I reached up to touch her hair, face, and neck as she straddled my thigh. And when I thought I could get some control over the havoc she was wreaking on me, she bent over, leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You don’t even know where you’re taking me; where you’re going.”

I didn’t understand her words. What I did know was the heat from her body, her breath against my ear, and the way her pussy had created a slip and slide of my leg, along with those words, made me feel like I was going to burst into liquid flames at any moment. I greedily lifted up and tasted the blackberry-colored nipples jutting from her breasts. My pussy jumped in retort to the stream of obscenities pouring from her mouth as she lost herself to the thigh-ride.

She seemed ready to hit her stride again, but paused a moment before maneuvering my body into a position in which she could slide between my legs. We half-lay, half-sat, scissor-like, opposing each other without moving. A wave of longing shot through my gut as I tried to catch my breath. I gasped at the feel of her engorged pussy, now delicately touching my own. I moaned at the agonizing stillness before losing myself to the first thrust against her. We fit each other in all the ways I could have ever imagined. It began as an unhurried steady grind. I could feel the definition of her outer lips, how they gave way to the cavernous hole of hot interior flesh. I felt my hood slicken and sloppily yield to the dewy velvet smoothness of her hood. Pussy to pussy, I lost track of time and found it again, using the throbbing and swelling heaviness of her clitoris mashed against mine. We gyrated strokes and cunt-fondled each other like the bitches in heat that we were. The car felt like a sauna. The smell intoxicating. And nothing, not the impending cramps, nor the threat of being caught, could make us let go of each other until we let go of time.

I wanted to get under her skin, merge my whole body into the molasses that was Tempest’s black hole. Nothing I did could get me as close to her as I wanted to be, but I didn’t stop trying. She clawed at me and I reached for her, all without breaking the torrid connection of our timeless fuck. I caressed the nape of her neck. She tugged my hair while thrusting herself up and down against me. In my frenetic physical state and desire-clouded mind, I nonchalantly placed my fingers at the base of her neck. As she continued to buck against my pussy, the caresses of my fingers gave way to deliberate hands that pressured and encircled her neck each time she sighed “yeah” or groaned “fuck me.” And when I decreased the force or moved my hand to tease an erect nipple, she would painfully gaze at me with want for the weight of my small hands wrapping around her neck. Through some unspoken communication delivered via her eyes, as well as her pussy popping and clamping down against my snatch, I applied and reapplied pressure and squeezed her neck, understanding that it would bring me closer to the orgasmic frenzy I sought.

My voice had become hoarse from begging, then harshly demanding more of the pleasurable swell. I ached for release. Pussy was too soft. Too hot. Too damn good. I wanted the good hurt to be over. I wanted it to never end. It was a frantic, ugly, and mean fuck…but she was getting me high. It was seeing my hands, that had just been squeezing her neck, fade and slip into her flesh, rather than against it, that tripped me out enough for me to grasp the meaning of the words that she had whispered to me earlier. My hands were no longer corporeal but rather ethereal energy with force.

I could not tell what was real. The only flesh that I could really sense was the hard pearl growing between my legs. I could still feel her against me, hear her screams when she came, when I too slipped toward my own peak in which I could not stop squeezing or choking. I felt my hands at the back of her wet throat and then solidly against the back of her neck. I was touching her everywhere but nowhere. There but not here. And as I pussy-fucked myself into intense multiple orgasms, I saw myself, her, and my future memory of her. We were in another time in a blue room, and I was delicately stroking the nape of her neck before undressing her.

“Damn, you trip-time better than I did my first time. You were almost there.” She panted, our pussies still touching, each jumping at the disturbance of her voice.

“No, I came, ” I said, breathing heavily as if there were any doubt on the matter.

“But I wanted you ‘becoming.’”

We weren’t in love, but we were lovers. Desire is infinite. It stretches beyond existence. That first night with Tempest I discovered that I could travel through time. With the right lover, I learned that I could change the past, see the future, and enjoy the present. Yes. We were lovers who fucked up the time space continuum every single time we kissed, touched, or tasted the timelessness of each other. We were lovers, partners against the collapse of time. She had come to show me how.

Jacqui

Jolie du Pré

Who knew I’d end up at Regina’s Hair School? I thought I’d be at a top beauty academy, but one put me on a waiting list and another one flat out rejected me. Out of anger and desperation I enrolled, last minute, at Regina’s. I rationalized that since it was located down the street from where I lived, it would be convenient and that it was just a stepping stone until I could transfer out to where I wanted to be.

There really was a Regina. Dark brown and big, everything about her was big. Big earrings; sometimes they were bright green. Big hair that, at last count, was five different shades. Big breasts that hung down to her navel. Regina didn’t talk to her students much. She followed the “learn on your own” method. While we worked on the hair of clients, she sat in the back with a bucket of chicken and watched talk shows.

We each had pink booths that Regina bought to cheer the place up. On Mondays we didn’t accept clients. Instead, we cleaned our tools and organized our stations. I stood next to Jacqui. Today she decided to pick me apart.

“Girl, we need to do somethin’ about your hair.”

“I like my hair! ”

“Your clothes ain’t right either. I’m gonna take you shoppin’.”

Shopping is fun, but going to the mall with a woman who wears furry baby blue boots would be a bad idea.

“Jacqui, I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“You so damn snotty, Michelle! I’m just tryin’ to help a sistah. I bet you ain’t gettin’ none either.”

Actually I had, but it was nothing to brag about. Gina and I had been together for five years, but sex with her had lacked passion for months. We still shared a lot of the same interests, but even that was waning.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, girl, don’t tell me I gotta take care of that too.”

“I’m not interested in getting fixed up with a man, Jacqui.”

“Who said anything about a man? ”

I stopped what I was doing and looked at her. She grinned from ear to ear, then she turned around and walked to the back of the room, her large ass stuffed in a pair of tight jeans. I had never told Jacqui that I was a lesbian. Was she into girls, too? My gaydar doesn’t always work, but the way she had smiled at me and switched her big behind were evidence enough. I’m a black woman who is attracted to black women, but me and Jacqui? I shook the thought from my head.

After school I grabbed some food, hopped on the bus and headed home, like I always do. My cell phone had been ringing nonstop, but I hadn’t bothered to look at the caller ID, until now. It was Gina. I knew what she was calling about and she’d keep calling until I answered the phone. We had planned on seeing the Monet exhibit at the art museum. I hadn’t confirmed whether or not I was going. The phone rang again.

“Well, I’m glad I caught you, since you don’t seem to know how to return phone calls.”

“I’m sorry. Are we on for tomorrow? ”

“Yes, of course we’re on, Michelle. That’s why I’m calling. Why don’t we do lunch at that cute little French restaurant before we see the exhibit? ”

Oh great, I thought, another fro fro restaurant to waste my money on. I wish, just once, that Gina would choose a place less fancy.

“They’ve got really good hamburgers at that spot on the corner. That might be fun.”

“Hamburgers? You know, you really should work on your diet. It’s embarrassing. I’ll see you at the French restaurant at one o’clock.”

We hung up as I stared at the hotdog I was holding.

Then my cell phone rang again. It wasn’t Gina calling back and I didn’t recognize the number. I decided to answer it anyway.

“Hello? ”

“Hey, Michelle! It’s Jacqui.”

Jacqui? How did she get my number? I had never given it to her.

“You comin’ with me tonight? ” she continued.

“Coming with you where? ”

“The club? ”

“What club? What are you talking about? ”

“Surrender. You comin’ out with me? ”

I don’t know what made Jacqui think I’d go with her. “No, I’m staying home tonight.”

“Why you want to do that? ”

“Why? Because I’m tired. How did you get my number? ”

“Don’t worry about it. Why won’t you come out tonight? ”

“I already told you. I’m tired.”

“You need some excitement in your life, and then you won’t be so tired. What time you want me to pick you up? ”

I couldn’t believe her persistence, even though she was right. I did need some excitement in my life.

“Jacqui, I’m going to hang up now. I’ll see you Monday.” I don’t like to cut people off, but I knew Jacqui wouldn’t let it go.

I’m certain that she looked over Regina’s shoulder and got my number from Regina’s records. That annoyed me. Yet, at the same time, I couldn’t stop thinking about the club and the fact that Jacqui was on the pursuit.

How pathetic was my life? If I admitted it to myself, Jacqui was right about a lot of things. My hair sucked, my clothes sucked even more, and even though I had Gina, that relationship was fizzling fast. For a long time, I’d been feeling like I was on a treadmill that I couldn’t get off.

I really couldn’t picture myself with Jacqui, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to get the hell out of the house and go to a club for a change. So I looked for Jacqui’s number on my cell phone and I called her back. I’d have to watch how late I stayed out. Gina would hate it if I was yawning on her all day.

“Now you’re getting some sense in your head. I’ll get you at ten. Cool? ”

“Yes, Jacqui. That’s cool.”

I looked through my closet, trying to find something decent to wear. I found some black slacks and a colorful blouse. A pair of black shoes completed the outfit. I put makeup on, for the first time in months, and combed my hair into a style. Then I sat in a chair and waited for Jacqui to arrive.

Ten o’clock got there and then ten-thirty. If there’s one thing I’ve always been it’s punctual, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s when people are late. But at around a quarter to eleven, my cell rang.

“Come on down, bitch! I’m ready for you.”

Well, it’s about time, I thought. My nerves were at full tilt as I descended the stairs. What was I getting myself into?

When I opened the door to the car, I saw that Jacqui’s full-figured body was barely covered. Her blouse was extremely low-cut, exposing much of her very large breasts, and she had on one of the shortest skirts known to woman.

She looked me up and down.

“Well…I guess I should have worn a different outfit, ” I said.

“That’s okay, baby, you ain’t gonna have it on that long.”

I guess that comment should have bothered me, but it didn’t. In fact, I started wondering what her breasts looked like under her blouse.

As soon as I sat down, she peeled out onto the road as if she were being chased.

“Slow down, Jacqui! ”

“Don’t worry, baby! I got control! ”

“Just don’t kill us. I’m too young to die! ”

She laughed at me and just kept on driving fast. Consequently, we got to the club in record time.

Surrender. I had never been there before. Dark lighting, very crowded, loud and upbeat music and black lesbians everywhere—some butch, some femme. Women were dancing together; it seemed, in every inch of the room. The energy was thick. As soon as we entered, Jacqui grabbed my hand and brought me to the bar.

“Hey, Lekisha! ”

“Hey! How you been? ”

It was obvious that Jacqui was a regular customer. Lekisha looked at me and smiled.

“Two rum and Cokes, ” Jacqui said. “Put a lot of rum in hers.”

“Jacqui, I don’t drink! ”

“Well, you need to start! ”

Jacqui handed me the drink. “Here, ” she said.

“Well…okay.” I took some sips. “It’s strong! ”

“Good! ” She took our drinks and put them over to the side. Then she dragged me to the edge of the dance floor. I started to panic, because I never dance. But Jacqui didn’t care, and before long we were standing in the middle of it. But we weren’t alone. We were surrounded by what seemed like a million lesbians, all moving to the beat.

Jacqui put her hands on my waist while she wiggled her hips. The alcohol I had consumed was beginning to take affect. Her large breasts bounced inside her top. Her big behind moved up and down to the music. She pulled me close to her. I began to move a little, at least as best as I could.

“Girl, you got it! ” Jacqui was being kind, because she could tell I was hopeless. Yet dancing with her was really fun. Later she pulled me off the floor and we walked back to our drinks.

At much as I hated to admit it, I was falling under Jacqui’s spell. And the truth of the matter was, my panties were wet, too. Before long, Jacqui put her lips on mine. They felt so good. Our lips seemed to melt into each other.

She looked me dead in the eyes. “I’m taking you to my place now, and you’re gonna let me do whatever I want, understand? ”

“Yes, I understand.”

She was in charge and that was fine by me. I didn’t think it was possible for my pussy to gush anymore than it already had. She grabbed my hand and led me out of the smoky bar to her car. Before she put me in the car she pushed me against it and pressed her body into mine. I could feel her large breasts on my small ones. We put our arms around each other and hugged each other tight. Then we kissed again, out in the open, for a long time.

“Come on, girl! It’s time to go, ” she said.

“Are you sure you can drive? I’m feeling sort of light-headed.”

Jacqui laughed. “I told you, baby, don’t worry. I got control.”

Jacqui’s bedroom was a mess and a pile of clothes topped her comforter, but she threw all the stuff that was on her bed onto the floor. Then she threw me on the bed and straddled me, her knees by my ears and me with a clear view of her blue panties under her skirt. She was wet, very wet. Her sweet musk wafted into my senses.

She reached down and kissed me. Our tongues rolled over each others. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t had good sex in a long time, or the fact that I was still tipsy, or just the fact that Jacqui was really turning me on but I wanted to be the one in control.

I rolled Jacqui on the bed until I was on top of her. Then I reached under her skirt and pulled her panties off. I wanted more than her scent; I wanted her in my mouth. I pulled the skirt up to her waist. She had shaved her hair completely off. I dropped my mouth to her pussy, spreading her thighs with my hands.

“Damn, girl! ” she screamed as I ate her. I wanted all of her. I wanted to push my face into her and that’s what I did. Jacqui was so wet that my face was covered with her juices. I sucked her thick clit into my mouth. I couldn’t get enough of it. I knew it felt good for her and I knew she had to be close to coming.

I pulled Jacqui’s blouse off. I guess I should have been more careful, because I ripped it in the process. She didn’t seem to mind. I continue to lick her pussy while I squeezed her breasts in my hands. She grabbed my head and brought my mouth to one of her large nipples. I smashed her breasts against my face. Her nipples were so big and round, I just wanted to lick them for a very long time.

I reached between her legs and stuck my finger into her slick pussy. At the same time, I played with her fat clit.

“Yeah! That’s it! ” she screamed. Jacqui came like a fountain.

After two hours of lovemaking, I lay next to Jacqui in her bed.

“Tomorrow, I’m taking you shoppin’, ” she said.

“I can’t go shopping. I have another engagement.”

“You have another who? Girl, we going to the mall! ”

She rolled on top of me and kissed my lips again. One thing was for certain, there was no way in hell I was spending my day looking at Monet.

Twenty minutes later, Jacqui was asleep. I hadn’t planned on staying the night, but it felt very comfortable in her bed. As I lay, I realized how relaxed I was.

I kissed Jacqui on the cheek. She smiled a little; even though she wasn’t awake. I looked around the room and tried to remember where I had put my cell phone. Once I spotted it, I got out of bed to get it and then I got back in bed to make the call. Gina stayed up late. It was better to contact her now rather than later.

“Gina? ”

“Michelle? What’s up? Do you know what time it is? ”

“Yes, I know what time it is. I didn’t wake you, did I? ”

“No, no. What’s the matter? ”

“I can’t make it tomorrow.”

“What? You can’t? Why? ”

“I….” The words didn’t want to come.

“You hungry? ” Jacqui wasn’t asleep anymore.

“Who is that? Are you with a woman? ” Gina asked.

I was frozen. Jacqui was hungry, and frankly, so was I, and Gina wanted to know what was going on.

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later, ” I said.

“What do you mean, you’ll call me later? Where are you? ”

Jacqui started kissing my neck. She didn’t say it, but I think she knew that I was on the phone with my girlfriend. It was as if she was testing me to see who I wanted. I knew who I wanted. It was time to make a change.

“Gotta go, ” I said.

Jacqui looked at me and smiled a wicked little grin. “Who was that, your girl? ”

“No. Where are you taking me tomorrow? ”

“I told you, the mall. I saw this orange dress that would look sharp as hell on you.”

There wasn’t anything in my closet that came close to orange. This was going to be quite a change. I kissed Jacqui on the lips. “Sounds good to me! ”