“Sometimes a good fight is exactly what I need, to get me going,” she heard Korea’s voice state behind her.
“Funny, all it takes for me is a little respect,” Stormy answered without turning around. Stormy’s eyes gazed into the moon and glazed over.
Korea gazed at Stormy. “Look at that big ole’ moon,” Korea said, looking at Stormy’s full tan ass. “Isn’t it great?”
Stormy didn’t respond. She was in a faraway place, nearly dreaming, as she stood there in the moonlight. She had almost forgotten Korea was there, when she felt her ass cheeks gently being pulled apart and a warm tongue sliding expertly between them. Her knees buckled, a shiver ran the course from her feet to her shoulders, and her crystal wine glass fell eighteen floors, from the penthouse balcony. Stormy bent slightly forward, resting her arms on the garden wall, and spread her legs open, allowing her flower to part for Korea’s apologetic tongue.
CHAPTER 8:
WHAT’S YOUR FANTASY?
Korea and Stormy lay on the bed with their down comforter and silk sheets disheveled around them. They listened to the sounds of Oakland, California after dark. A helicopter hovered persistently above them. A car door slammed. A car alarm sounded off and a kitten shrieked on the street below the high-rise building. In the distance, birds of the sanctuary in Lake Merritt squawked.
“Are you getting bored with me?” Stormy asked, staring into the dark of Korea’s bedroom.
“Why do you ask me that?”
“Because you didn’t cum when you were eating me out.”
“No. I’m not bored. I have a lot on my mind. I mean, I like change; things can get boring sometimes.”
“You mean people can get boring sometimes.”
“Them, too.”
“You want to go again? You can fuck me with your pussy, until you cum. I don’t need to get off anymore.”
“No.”
Stormy thought about how the last erotic encounter she planned for Korea had changed their love-making style forever, but she asked the question anyway. She knew this thing was slipping away fast, but she wasn’t ready to leave yet.
“What is your fantasy, Korea?”
“I have a lot of them.”
“I know that. I mean, which one have you been thinking about lately?”
“You sure you want to know?
“Yes.”
“I want to fuck a man in the ass.”
“You do?”
“Hell yes. That shit would be so fun.”
“You want to fuck me in the ass?
“No.”
“Good. I’m not into ass play,” Stormy said. “Why don’t you want to fuck me in the ass?”
“Why don’t I want to fuck you in the ass?”
“Yes.”
“What fun would that be? You’re a woman. I can do anything I want to you already. It wouldn’t be a challenge.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize sex needed to be a challenge.”
“Baby, anything worth doing needs to be a challenge. That’s your problem now. Nothing seems to be a challenge for you. Everything comes too easy for you. You don’t have to work for it. People simply give it to you.”
“That’s not true, Korea. You sound like Tom.”
“Please don’t compare me to that sorry excuse for a man.”
“Damn, baby, you sure you don’t want to bust on me real quick? You’re cranky.”
Korea did not respond to that.
“What you’re saying about me isn’t true at all. Do you think taking care of you and this penthouse is easy?”
“For you, it is. It should be anyway. You don’t have anything else to do.”
“I do. I happen to have a job.”
“Do you call that little article you write on the Internet a job?”
“I hate it when you do that. Why do you have to be so mean to me?”
“Because I can. You need to think about why that is.”
“I’m not responsible for how you treat me; you are.”
“No, you are. Just like you were responsible for how that sorry-ass man of yours was treating you. You’re a fucking muffin, Stormy. You need to get a backbone and start standing up for yourself. Maybe I would respect you more.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, how about I start right now.”
Stormy got out of the bed. She slipped into some underwear, pulled her favorite dashiki from the nightstand drawer, and slipped it over her head. Korea rolled over and hugged her pillow. Stormy’s defiance came at a price; her heart was pounding hard in her chest and her hand was a little shaky as she pulled Korea’s bedroom door closed behind her. She sat down at her computer and logged into her email account. She had ten unopened emails.
“Dear Miss Talbert, this is Paul Moon, head chef at Blue Restaurant. I want to thank you for your glowing review of our cuisine in The Cutting Board. Our business is booming thanks to you. If you ever want to come by for dinner, consider yourself my guest.”
Stormy smiled, and typed a response to him. Then she opened the next email. It was from T. Calloway, her editor.
“Hey, Stormy, T. Calloway here. You are doing a great job! Check your PayPal account.”
There was a smiley face blowing a kiss at the end of the message. Stormy logged in to her PayPal account and beamed when she saw her new account balance. She opened the Yahoo window and opened another email.
“Dear Miss Talbert. You probably don’t remember me. I was your waiter at the Torrent Café on Grove Street. I wanted to write to thank you for being such a nice customer. I didn’t even know who you were, but when I realized you had been there to review us, I thought, wow, she could have been a real bitch (excuse my language), but you weren’t. We get some real nasty clients sometimes because our place is always so crowded, but you were graceful and patient, even when I brought you the wrong order. And, I might add, you are beautiful. I hope this isn’t inappropriate but I have to try. I have never met a woman like you before. Your natural beauty is stunning. I noticed you weren’t wearing a wedding ring. If you would consider letting me take you out sometime, I would be a very happy man. Call me at…”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Korea’s voice startled her, and she jumped.
“I’m checking my email,” Stormy replied.
“You’ve been in here all night already. Bring your fucking ass to bed.”
“I’m only doing what you said.”
“Don’t try me. Come to bed now. And take that stupid-looking dashiki off. That shit ain’t sexy. You’ve got me feeling like I’m sleeping with Angela Davis.”
“Awe, baby, isn’t that one of your fantasies?”
Korea didn’t find her amusing. “Hurry up,” she said. “I’m getting sleepy.”
Stormy took that to mean that Korea wanted some more pussy tonight so she logged off without responding to the sweet young man, who had been so nervous in her presence she had forgiven him instantly for bringing a strawberry and walnut salad instead of the roasted pecan mixed green. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. She laughed at the thought of herself as a cougar as she logged out of her email account and shut her computer down.
Korea’s eyes were closed when Stormy walked into the room. She slipped her West African shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor.
“Is this better?” she asked in a deep, sensuous tone that forced Korea’s eyes to open, and to see her. Under her square-cut ethnic garb there had been a tight little half-tee and tattoo-designed spanks from Christian Audigier’s Ed Hardy line. Stormy spun around so Korea could see how the panties clung to her phat derriere, letting just a little escape from the lacey hems. “You sure you don’t want to stick your dick in there?” she said, slapping her cheeks with her hands. “You haven’t fucked me with your strap in a minute.”
“Naw, just make it bounce for me, baby,” Korea said softly. “Make it clap.”
Stormy obliged, raising herself on tipped toes
, pivoting her feet in and out, her thighs followed obediently, opening and closing, pulling the cheeks of her ass with them until they began to clap. Korea slipped her hand down under the covers to touch her own pussy. She rubbed her tiny dick and watched Stormy’s ass open and close.
“Bend over. Slide your panties to the side so I can see.”
Stormy climbed up on the bed so Korea could get a good look at her pretty golden pussy. She slid her panties to the side and opened her pussy so Korea could look inside. She opened and closed it with her muscles, and made it pop for her daddy a few times. Passion was flooding Korea’s eyes but no moan escaped.
“That’s it, baby, don’t stop,” Korea said, pressing and rubbing her button until she came in a faint grunt.
“That was good,” Korea said. “I could almost forgive that fucked-up dinner after that. Get in the bed.”
Korea fell asleep, holding Stormy tight and pinning her down with two arms and a thigh. It made Stormy uncomfortable to be wrapped like a hotdog this way, but she stayed there, basking in the affection. She lay awake a while longer, picturing Korea’s fantasy of fucking a man with a dildo, wondering how she was going to make it happen. Maybe this new fantasy would get her off of the old one. Maybe it would make her forget about what happened that night, at Club X. Maybe Korea would forgive her and they could start fucking normally again, like they used to.
IN THE LIGHT OF DAY, STORMY MOURNED THE PASSIONATE sexual relationship she once enjoyed with Korea. Stormy was naturally submissive, and had been straight before she met Korea. She was groomed by her Southern-raised mom to be a housewife and a supporting cast member to her leading man, traits she continued to live with, and abide by, even when she chose a woman to play the part of her leading man. But it had been more difficult than she imagined, to please someone who was every bit of the woman she was. Stormy felt there was little she could give Korea that Korea could not provide for herself. Men, with their childish neediness, had been much easier to handle. All she had learned from Tom was how to coddle. But what she had learned from Korea was an addictive independence that was becoming the root of their problems.
Stormy wasn’t the neatest person, but struggled and managed to keep Korea’s two-level penthouse condominium clean and organized, although she thought it was a job for a professional. Between two levels, there were two master bedrooms, a guest room, three-and-a-half bathrooms, a huge living room, a massive dining room, a den, and a workout room. Korea generally spent most of her time between the state-of-the-art workout room, perfecting her beautiful androgynous body, and her private master bedroom.
Stormy was expected to maintain the entire condo alone. It was easy enough to do, when it was all she had to do. But her new-found career as a food critic, with her own weekly column, “The Cutting Board,” was gaining momentum and she didn’t have as much time to handle domestic matters. Besides, she thought to herself, as she looked at the clock on her computer, hoping Korea would be grossly late coming home again, with sex getting so sporadic, she didn’t really feel like cooking or cleaning a damned thing.
Stormy grew her own vegetables and spices in a rooftop garden she had planted herself. “From way up here on the eighteenth floor, you can almost see God,” she often told Korea, when she was trying to lure her away from the television onto the balcony, where she loved to make love.
But Stormy took most pride in her gleaming stainless steel decor kitchen, which was big and beautiful enough to set the stage for her own erotic fantasy cooking show. The night the beautiful kitchen was complete, Stormy created a sensuous Punany Experience, personalized for Korea to thank her for the stunning treasure.
“Hi there,” a naked woman said softly as Korea stepped through her penthouse door one evening. “I am Sam. All that you desire is all that I am. Anything less than your perfect satisfaction, I cannot understand. Anything that is not beautiful or delicious is not in tonight’s plan. I will be your hostess for the evening. This is my beautiful assistant, Pam. We welcome you to your Punany Experience.”
A broad smile was all Korea’s mouth could manage as Sam and Pam took her driving gloves and rain-soaked coat, and then guided her to a fireside seat where each woman unzipped and removed a boot from each foot and placed both of them on a towel that lay on the floor between a steaming bowl of water and a bottle of olive oil. The scent of eucalyptus wavered through the warm air as Sam squeezed the water from a cloth and washed the business-woman’s feet with the gentle attention that womanhood is made of. Pam rubbed the olive oil between her hands while softly explaining its healing properties. Sam now worked on Korea’s head, neck and shoulders, expertly massaging from her nape to her temples, back again, and down to her shoulders. Korea could feel the stress in her body dissipating.
“Breathe,” she told Korea.
It had been an unusually stormy season, especially for California, and Korea was most definitely glad to be in from the cold. She felt her eyes close and her back sink into her favorite chair. “This is the life,” she said.
“I am Starla,” a third woman said softly into her left ear, awakening her from her dream state. Korea opened her eyes to find an olive-skinned Italian woman with a long, thick, jet black ponytail standing before her, wearing only an apron, tied loosely around her waist, revealing well-trained abs and a hint of a neatly groomed black bikini hairline.
Starla served Korea a hot toddy of tea and brandy and a small dish of chocolate truffles. “I’m your sous chef tonight,” she said, dismissing the women with a wave of her hand. The women took the water and oil away. “We take great pleasure in serving you in The Palace of Eros tonight, where your Punany Experience was written and produced by Stormy Talbert. You will find your dining choices inside of this program.” Starla handed a small black program to Korea, and continued her introduction. “Ms. Talbert has directed us with regards to your dietary needs and personal appetite. Should you crave anything that is not on the menu, please do not hesitate to let us know. On the back of your program, you will find a catalogue of merchandise that may be used for romance, persuasion, coercion, or force.” Starla flashed an award winner at Korea and concluded her introduction with, “Light seafood appetizers will be served in twenty minutes on a petit platter of Betty.”
“Betty?” Korea asked curiously.
“The house specialty,” Starla said with a faint smile. “The head chef will greet you shortly. You may relax here, or choose to follow your servants to your private bath.”
Sam and Pam returned with a purple silk robe and matching boxers.
“Huh, yes, I think I would like to get a quick shower, and then I will be back for those appetizers,” Korea said. “Um, I would like to order these for now,” she added, pointing to a pair of purple latex gloves.
Korea showered, standing over Sam and Pam, who lay grinding each other on the shower floor. She turned the water off, stepped from the shower, and commanded Sam to lay on the chaise and to open her legs to receive her gloved fingers.
“Come here,” she said to Sam. “Kiss me.”
Sam opened her mouth and pushed her hot, wet twisting tongue into Korea’s mouth. When she found Korea’s tongue, she grabbed gently with her teeth, pulling it into her control, and sucked it like she was sucking a dick. Now the two women were both staring into Pam’s open legs. Korea went in, fucking Pam slowly with two fingers for a few minutes, and when she felt Pam’s pelvic muscles relax, she slipped two more fingers inside of her. She turned them slowly, and pushed in and out.
Sam leaned in and kissed Pam’s pussy and sucked on her clit as Korea forced her hand deeper and deeper inside until her thumb slipped easily into the slippery cave. She carefully pulled her fingers together and balled them up inside of Pam, fucking her deeply with her fist. Pam screamed in ecstasy and pain.
“Oh, oh, I’m next, please!” Sam said.
“Do me a favor and shut her up.”
“Okay.”
Sam climbed up onto the chaise and sat on Pam’s mouth, a
nd silenced her with her hot muff. Korea could feel Pam’s muscles contracting and releasing as her orgasm built up around her whole hand. Her muffled cries and moans were caught in the hot sticky nut of Sam, who was fucking her face like a rodeo champion, and coaching Korea to thrust deeper inside of the woman.
“She likes that. Ooh yeah, fuck her deeper. Her pussy is a bottomless pit.” Sam egged her on.
Korea thought her arm would be ripped off as Pam pushed her pelvis back for a long moment, and then suddenly pushed hard with her pussy muscles, giving birth to an orgasm that forced Korea’s fist out of her body in a flood of sap. Her body irked and jerked and continued to emit juices, as Sam joined her in orgasmic release, cumming in her mouth and falling to the floor. Korea climbed on top of Sam and busted one good long time, releasing all of the day’s stress onto Sam’s pussy.
DRESSED IN THE PURPLE ROBE AND BOXERS, Korea was escorted to the bar, where a human platter was adorned with a fine selection of seafood. Tiny portions of shrimp, scallops, oysters, clams, and lobster had been baked, broiled, boiled, sautéed, simmered, chilled, grilled, smoked, pickled to perfection, and served on a platter of…
“Don’t tell me,” Korea said to the petite Asian beauty lying on the bar, “you have got to be Betty.” She paused. “Well, ladies, care to join me?”
Sam and Pam helped Korea devour the appetizers while they watched Starla prep the kitchen.
Stormy was a flawless beauty as she emerged from her bedroom and sashayed down the hall toward the kitchen. Korea almost choked on a shrimp as she jumped to attention, examining this woman from her feet to her hair. Stormy wore cobalt blue three-inch pumps, the diamond anklet Korea had given her for Christmas, and a very short, very sheer, blue silk apron that left each of her thunderous thighs and hips exposed on each side. Her midsection was merely highlighted by a thin strip of fabric that branched around her breasts, leaving the stubborn impression of two perfect nipples. Her apron was draped from her neck by a crystal sling and fastened in the back by only two crystal straps. Stormy’s ass and back, in their entirety, were exposed. The tiny triangle top on the back of her G-string read “Head Chef.”
The Punany Experience Page 12