However, the moment I changed things up and twisted my fingers, I triggered an instant climax that left her defenseless. Her butt sank and quivered, her legs buckled, and she began to tremor. Crossing this barrier, things quickly changed.
"Oh-- fuck! Ash! ... Ashley!" she squeaked. She opened her hips completely to me, urging her soaking vulva toward me as if it were a feverish gift. "Oh god, keep going, I'm coming! Oh my god!"
Christine laughed, having never witnessed Liana have an outburst like that. I was mad with lust, seeing Liana so sloppy and raw. My fingers were drenched in her satisfaction. I continued to plunge them inside, coaxing a generous amount of cum from her body until she was dripping from that wild, black shock of pubic hair. "Jesus, Liana!" Christine exclaimed, watching Liana undergo a series of wild convulsions that caused her to squirt repeatedly. I couldn't help but laugh along with her in disbelief at the sheer output of Liana's unhinged indulgence.
I'll admit I was unprepared for the rapid unraveling of Liana's meek persona that immediately followed. She was back on her butt and facing both of us in an instant, eager for our lips. She passed effortlessly between Christine and I, seeking our tongues in a frenzied attempt to establish herself as a central part of our erotic experiment. However, apparently not satisfied by my earlier efforts, Liana grabbed the two-sided dildo and gave me a demanding look that seemed far more characteristic of Christine.
I grabbed it back from her and wasted no time in positioning it between our hips. I helped her slip it inside and then inserted it into my own body. Admittedly, I love the feeling of sharing a dildo with someone. It makes me feel somehow connected, one on one. Sharing the same body somehow, the same source of pleasure, one of us being an extension of the other.
Liana wrapped her arms around me as we began moving together, feeling the object penetrating us both deeply and at the same time. Her body felt flush and sweaty from the earlier episode, still radiating a constant heat. I nuzzled her neck. "Ashley..." she sighed. I kissed and nibbled playfully at her shoulder.
She gazed at me with shiny eyes and whispered, "I can't believe we're doing this." Her voice quaked with so much emotion that my heart felt like it would collapse into itself.
"Do you love it?" I whispered back, kissing her sweetly on the lips as our hips moved frantically together, full with the pressure and pleasure of the toy we lovingly shared.
"Yeah," she spit out with a laugh, as if her own answer surprised herself.
A sudden buzzing caught my attention and I glanced over. Christine was laying backward on the rug, watching us intently and getting off on our exchange. The magic wand was pressed firmly against her budding clit, moving slowly back and forth as she began to moan.
Liana followed my lead as I leaned back and angled my open hips toward her, with the dildo extending outward and uniting us both. We began humping the object until we found a comfortable unison, syncing our actions, tuned to each other's extraordinary pleasure. I watched as our bodies traveled back and forth, gliding smoothly along the dildo. I became mesmerized at the sight of the stiff gadget deeply penetrating her velvety pink hole surrounded by a ring of thick black thatch. Our fluids enjoined halfway down the sticky, colorful shaft, mingling and becoming one. If either of us went deep enough, she or I would find our natural lubrication enhanced by the wanton offerings of the other.
Our fierce thrusting became faster, louder, more liquid until I could see, from the corner of my eye, the sudden arch of Christine's back as she perverted her body in a flash of ecstasy. I cast her a sympathetic look, finding her hips grinding against the wand as if fucking thin air, then squeezing it between her legs with her eyes closed. Her loud scream rent the air.
I couldn't stand it anymore. My body instantly thundered with a wild orgasm that practically knocked me unconscious.
I was in a tunnel. All I could hear was the sound of Liana. Our bodies sloshing together as the evidence of our pleasure traveled between us and combined on the slick pink object to which we were passionately bound. Then Liana's voice, helplessly disturbing the air with a heavenly confusion, bliss, devastation.
There was a sudden cacophony as the magic wand tumbled to the floor. "Fuck-fuck-fuck!" Christine screamed as her glistening fingers shot back and forth over her swollen clit like a bullet. Then she stopped abruptly, her face twisted with pleasure, crossing a momentary gap of silence before unleashing a long, loud moan. When she came to her senses, she bent forward, still cupping her mound and breathing rapidly with her head hanging low.
Moments later she returned to our side. Feeling pleasantly dirty, I grabbed Christine's fingers, popped them in my mouth, and sucked them clean, much to her delight. I shared them with Liana who giggled and licked them eagerly. The three of us couldn't stop laughing. The mixture of excitement, surprise, and lust was a powerful concoction.
It soon lulled us into a hazy stupor of exhaustion and waning animalism, reducing us to a naked, sloppy heap on the floor. Though I might as well have been laying on the ceiling, I felt so high. I was elated, and all the world lay beneath me.
After some time, Christine said, "I'm not gonna lie. I'd fucking do that again in a heartbeat." Liana and I laughed. "Seriously," Christine continued. "I might be bi now. Can you deal with that?" She grinned at me.
"Bring it on!" I exclaimed.
Liana giggled. "What about you?" Christine snickered at her.
Liana returned to her shy smiles. "It... wouldn't take much convincing, I have to say..." she replied with a wry grin and a familiar coyness that excited me.
"So I saw..." Christine chuckled. She seemed determined to establish that she was not the only one without a shred of regret. I found myself strangely affected by the fact that neither of them did.
And you know what? I didn't have a single regret either.
Desperate to feel Liana's body against mine again, I tossed aside the object between us and invited her back into my arms. She swiftly threw herself into them with a new magnetism. I cradled her there. She placed her head upon my bosom, demonstrating a clear need to feel secure after the intensity of what we'd both been through. Liana tucked herself into my body as if she were regressing. I comforted her. Her hand slowly found its way over my body and I saw her eyes close.
I closed my eyes too. I drifted back through time. Year after year, and I knew where I was going. There was a smell in the air. Fresh cut grass. Magnolia. Then suddenly a blast of chlorine. I heard splashing, laughter.
"God, my mom is so annoying," Rachel was saying as she pulled herself out of the pool.
"It's okay, let's leave our suits out to dry and we can go back in tomorrow," I said excitedly, following her down a slippery ladder and onto the grass.
"Okay!" Rachel laughed. She set off toward the big house at the far side of the yard, languishing in the falling dusk.
I started to follow, but it felt so far away. The house seemed so distant. The windows were dark. I was tired.
"Come on," urged Rachel, turning back to glance at me.
"Wait, hold up..." I said, taking a few final steps. She turned, confused, then wandered back toward me in her navy and white one-piece that I loved so much.
"What's wrong?" she said.
"Let's leave it like this," I suggested.
"Huh?"
"It doesn't matter. I forgive you. I forgive both of us," I explained. I felt a tear coming to my eye.
"I don't understand," she said.
I stepped forward and grabbed Rachel. I pressed my lips to hers and I pressed hard, not caring about her reaction. This time it was all just in my head. She didn't fight back. When I finally let go, she stepped backward, stunned. I smiled.
"Goodbye, Rachel..." I said with a sigh.
She stood there in silence, somehow lost amongst the hiss of a summer breeze through the treetops, the brief flash of illuminated fireflies, and the rumble of a distant freight train. Somehow becoming transparent, until she vanished into thin air.
I felt my chest
suddenly collapse in an excess of emotional release. Yes, I had done something wrong during a confused time in my life, and had been punished unfairly for it, but it was time to move on.
I felt Christine join Liana to curl up beside me. I felt her arm wind tightly around my waist. There was Liana's hand circling into mine.
When I opened my eyes again I spotted our tangled mass of bodies in the full length mirror at the far side of the room. Christine. Liana. Myself. Each of us interlaced with the other. Then I looked a little closer and saw a smile on my face that I barely recognized.
And it's funny-- now every morning I wake up, head to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and see that same smile staring back at me.
Gleeful. Confident. Appearing as though stained red... as if recalling the vague memory of sweet watermelons from joyful summers past...
You Don't Know Me But We Are Lovers
The shrill sound of Amber's alarm clock went off exactly as scheduled, hammering its way through the last vestiges of a disturbed dream like a siren going off. The dull thud of a headache pulsed and spread through her body; the tail end of a physical trauma anxious to be cured by the early light of dawn. It was not the way she wanted to wake up that morning but it was the morning she had been given.
Still, as a foggy morning disorientation cleared from her mind and she became conscious of the day's agenda, Amber leapt from her bed and scrambled to start a hasty cup of coffee. She zipped past her suitcase, packed and sitting squarely in the middle of the living room, pulling off her clothes as she went and darting into the bathroom for a rushed shower.
Giving herself one moment of pause to relax beneath the soothing warmth of the jets, Amber stood amidst the hissing cone of water and toured the deep abyss of her own thoughts. She reflected on how much she hated Valentine's Day. A day designed for a celebration of all the things she wanted for herself but could never manage to find. A day for lovers. A day for the elusive acceptance of who she was and how she felt about another woman. A day for the freedom from a dark loneliness that gnawed constantly at her mind, forever cementing a life of longing and sadness.
Shaking off these somber thoughts, Amber worked to restore the resolve and determination she had to escape from it all this year. Amber had taken enough time off to manage a brief getaway, leaving behind a day not made for her while she soaked up the glorious Caribbean sun. Her present accumulation of airline points gave her just enough for Jamaica. Granted, this held the risk of witnessing other couples' seaside romances playing out like a cruel punishment. However, it held just as much potential for a quiet escape on a remote stretch of beach where she could sink into a book and forget the world around her.
Before long she was drifting through the dark urban fjords of a still-sleeping city, imagining all the people inside the silent buildings, softly sighing in their cocoons of comfort and human companionship. The airport soon rose on the horizon with its gleaming windows, seemingly bitter to be awake at such an ungodly hour. She boarded her flight and was off, breathing a sigh of relief while she continued her ascent into the sky and watched the city lights slowly vanish below.
***
The local news was already watching a developing storm, still far out to sea, but it felt like an unrealistic threat...
The fact remained: Jamaica was a little bit of heaven on Earth. Amber's modest villa was gorgeous. The sea almost came straight up to her window. Her bathroom doubled as a garden oasis. The whole resort was a wonder. -- It just wasn't precisely where she wanted to be. Not with the crowds of people wandering around like zombies marveling at the wisdom of snagging their discounted holiday packages. Instead, she wandered outside the boundary of that carefully constructed idyllicism in search of a more authentic experience.
She found it at the edge of town, along a scrappy stretch of beach where a group of men smoked ganja beneath a canopy of black, yellow, and green. They welcomed her enthusiastically and offered her some of their stash. She politely refused, instead recruiting their help in finding a good place for a bite to eat. They gladly pointed out a ramshackle spot nearby called "The Jerk Shack."
As Amber ducked into the beachside joint, she found it amusing that she was neither indoors nor out, as the sand and the wood seemed to blur together and become one, surrounded by a cathedral of Red Stripe bottles and white rum in various states of near-completion. Throwing herself down at a table she realized that she had finally found the safe-haven she needed, far from the world.
"Hey-- wah gwaan," a man said, spotting her. The sole waiter, who was also the bartender, cheerfully arrived to hand her a laminated menu before returning to the glow of a small television at the far end of the bar. As Amber began to study the scant options, she suddenly felt eyes on her. Glancing up, she realized there was a woman in the corner, reclining in the shadows. The woman squinted at Amber, tilting back and forth on her chair with an air of amused reflection.
Amber's flesh suddenly simmered with goosebumps.
The girl was attractive. Incredibly so. However, more than that, she seemed somehow familiar despite her mysterious presence in the dark corner of the room. Flowing hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, curling toward the tips like impetuous strands of seaweed as they reached the top of a sexy orange bikini. A long, tie-dyed wrap swooshed about her hips and draped over her legs like a flowing skirt. That expression of quiet confidence and reflective silence was incredibly alluring and filled Amber with an instant desire to muse about who she was and what she might be doing there.
Attempting to return her attention to the menu, Amber remained alert and watchful, secretly hopeful that something would play out that would prompt an interaction of some kind -- any kind -- with the strange girl.
The bartender sighed, "Well, dat storm ah-coming." He clucked and swiped a towel aimlessly across the bar, as if frustrated.
"Yeah, I know it..." the girl in the corner lamented. Amber perked up.
"I just took down de boards an 'ere we go again," the bartender continued to grumble.
The girl glanced in Amber's direction and caught her observing. Amber quickly looked down at the menu again and realized she still hadn't absorbed what was offered there.
"Don't worry. It's a couple days out yet," the stranger added. The bartender nodded back to her apathetically. Amber realized that the two seemed to know one another. She felt the same pair of eyes on her once again. They remained there, unmoving, quietly watching. Under normal circumstances, she'd feel uncomfortable but she somehow became excited to have the attention, given her fascination with the woman.
Amber heard the scrape of a chair leg on the floor followed by footsteps. Her heart started to race. The girl was approaching. She stopped, then stood there, hovering over Amber until she finally looked up. The face gazing down at her cracked a smile. She sat down across from Amber.
For the next several moments, Amber did not know what to do. It was intimidating and awkward to have such a beautiful girl sit there quietly, just watching as if expecting Amber to say something profound to a complete stranger. However, she couldn't look away. The girl had the most expressive, playful brown eyes, tempting, lush lips, and the cutest heart-shaped chin. Her hair looked like it had once been made of pure gold but, over time, grew delightfully tarnished through a life full of sportiveness and tireless adventure.
Finally, the girl spoke. "The jerk chicken is good, but you can get good jerk chicken all over Jamaica. What you want is this." She pointed to a picture on the menu in a grid of faded, artificially colored photos that likely did not resemble the actual dishes. "Calypso Chicken. It's Zidane's specialty." The bartender-slash-waiter who was apparently now also the cook held his fingers to his mouth, then released them, kissing the air as if to describe how delicious it was. The girl continued, "It's got this amazing pineapple salsa with thyme and allspice and lots of scotch bonnets. It's really hot— but not melt-your-face-off hot. You'll love it."
Strangely, Amber had no doubt she would love it. It sounded
a lot like a dish she often craved back in Crown Heights, Brooklyn where she sometimes went for Caribbean food. "... Okay, I'll try it," she said, bewildered by the unsolicited suggestion.
"Good," the girl said. She turned to Zidane with two fingers in the air. "And two rums." Zidane nodded eagerly and grabbed a half-empty bottle of Wray and Nephew. "Try this. It's like... rotten bananas-- but in a good way."
Amber laughed. "All right... I'm skeptical but open-minded."
The girl grinned. "I'm Gianna," she said, holding out her hand.
"Amber." They shook hands as two shots landed on the table beside them. Zidane casually left the open bottle sitting on the table as if granting them permission to accept liberal enjoyment of its contents.
Gianna raised her glass until it was eye level and then peered at it. "You'll prefer the Jamaican stuff over the rest of the island rums. It's funky. It's nasty. It's a high-ester, hogo spirit with a flavor that's beautifully indescribable. They basically take a bunch of bacterial old rum and add it to the new rum to turn the liquor into some super-potent, smelly stuff." She took a swig and exhaled happily, then set the glass down on the table with a loud clack.
Amber laughed. "Boy, you really know how to sell a girl some rum..."
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