by Zane
Jay’s right thumb swirled over the dancer’s sensitive nubbin, and then skated down nectar-slick labia lips, plump and full, before two fingers plunged into pure honey. The creamy pussy swallowed more fingers, then a hand. Jay lay supine in sticky, grade-A nectar, moaning and pumping and kissing. Right then, Jay longed to awake to the gift of this woman’s presence every day of her life.
“Aaaah. Oooo, yes, baby. Kiss me. I love it, darling. I feel you everywhere.”
By way of answer, Jay’s teeth lightly nipped the now trembling thighs. Her strong fingers slowed, and then took charge of the performer’s pussy again, appearing and disappearing, fucking her into paradise. That amazing ass bucked and thrashed against the sofa. Heels draping Jay’s shoulders, sometimes daintily, at others flexing high above her head, on pussy-perfumed air.
When her screams finally erupted, Jay slowly withdrew. She rose and dampened several expensive napkins and gingerly wiped the scent of cum from the dancer’s body. The burlesque beauty lay still and spent while Jay kissed her mouth and hands. She whispered how beautiful she was before deftly readjusting her costume and memorizing her magnificent climax.
“I knew you’d come. Question was, when?”
Jay stretched her six-foot-one frame atop the dancer’s body.
“I knew you’d cum, too. Just not here.”
The woman’s laughter floated into Jay’s back-grazing locs. Delightfully similar, her pent-up natural hair tickled Jay’s nose and cheeks. She loved the girlish joy beckoning her closer behind the grown-woman glamour. Sweet and playful, it clashed with Jay’s urgency to experience her again, but Jay ignored it, their verbal exchange captivating.
“Thank you for the CDs. I’ve wanted them forever. Now my collection’s complete.”
Jay’s chin lifted in that sexy way of hers. “I’m Porgy to your Bess.”
The beauty’s laughter filled the bathroom air with the tinkle of magic. “Oh now that’s original, although I hoped you would be.”
A female voice soaked in authority bumped up against Jay’s suave, “You’re welcome.”
“Delilah, your bathroom break is up, darling! You may be the star of this revue, but you’ve got less than fifteen minutes!”
Delilah’s pout and eye rolling sent Jay careening into a slow burn. If the night’s promise wasn’t so fulfilling, she might have hollered to the voice to get herself another star because this one was hers now. Instead, she got, pulled into the goddess’s easy flow.
“Gotta go, sweety. One thing, though. I will tell you how charming you look when you’re caught up, studying me from your back windows.”
“Oh. You noticed?”
“Of course. I like your style, not too flashy, more businesslike. You’re about positive things for the community.” She paused. “Was thinking, maybe, possibly, we could, with my creativity and your business acumen, be the change our folks need.”
“Sounds foolproof to me.”
“Good. I’m Delilah, Jay Morrison.”
“I know. You’re good. Damn good.”
“Thanks. So are you. May I come over later, after the show, so we can finish what we started here? I give as well as I receive.”
To that boon, Jay bit her bottom lip and flashed her cockiest grin. Grateful for their meeting, she rose, offered Delilah her hand, and pulling her to her feet, softly kissed her before embracing Delilah close enough to synchronize their heartbeats. Blessed, she unlocked the door and watched her woman float backstage.
Jay headed back to Valentino, whom she had to thank for investing in burlesque tickets that had already begun to change her life.
Claudia Moss lives and writes in Atlanta, GA. The author of Dolly: the Memoirs of a High School Graduate, her fiction has been published in Longing, Lust, and Love: Black Lesbian Stories, the Hoot and Holler of the Owl, Catalyst, Labrys, Black Romance, Jive, Venus, and Black Issues Book Review magazine.
Uma
Sydney Molaré
The patter of small feet, then, “Uma, thuck.”
My body tensed at the sound.
“Thuck, now!” The high-pitched little voice now stressed with need.
“All right.” Female.
A chair was pulled out. I knew what came next.
I lifted from lounging on the sofa, moved quietly over the Berber carpet to stand next to the door unseen. My stomach flip-flopped, uterus clenched, palms wet.
A zipper being pulled.
Rustling of clothes as she pulled him onto her lap.
The wet sounds of suckling.
I peeked around the door, already knowing what I would see as this scene had been repeated six or seven times daily for the past two years. Uma sat in the chair, shirt flapping open, one nipple in Thor’s mouth, his hand massaging the other breast.
I almost came right there as I stared at the exposed breast—large as a balloon, dark brown saucer-sized nipples with purple veins running across it. Thor’s head bobbed, mouth smacked around the aureole. My head spun as a drop of milk leaked from the unfettered nipple. My glands salivated. I gulped.
Uma must have heard the sound. She turned her head slowly toward me, meeting my eyes. A slight grin slid onto her lips. I was rooted to the spot, watching Thor, wanting to trade places with him if only for a moment. My pussy gushed as he unlatched, claimed the other nipple, cheeks sunken as he swallowed the liquid sustenance hungrily. His hand lay across the just milked tit, rubbed and squeezed involuntarily, occasionally pulling the distended center.
The garage door opened. Uma shifted, pulled her shirt over the free breast, turned her eyes away just as my husband, Darryl, walked in.
“I see my boy is still keeping you busy, Uma.” I heard him sit his briefcase down before opening the refrigerator.
I moved back to the couch, tried to appear composed but I was anything but. My pussy was slippery; my nipples saluting like two popped eyes on my chest.
“Hey, babe.”
Darryl leaned to kiss my cheek. Instead, I turned into the kiss, allowed my lips to clamp onto to his as my tongue dipped between his teeth, plundering, coating his mouth with my copious saliva. He was caught off-guard, even more so when I pushed him against the wall, swirling and twirling my mouth organ in a frenetic dance.
“I want you to fuck me now,” I whispered before I nipped his earlobe.
“But Thor and Uma are—”
“—keeping each other occupied.” I lifted, stared into his eyes. “Please, fuck me right now. I need you in me,” I pleaded.
He led the way to the bedroom. Before the door closed, I’d ripped his shirt open and was making good headway on his pants.
“Damn, you are a tiger today. What’s gotten into you?”
Uma.
I felt his eyes on me but said nothing as I pulled his fast-stiffening cock from his BVDs. Panties were dropped to the floor before I turned, flipped the skirt over my ass, leaned over the bed. I pulled my slick pussy lips wide, showing the pink.
Darryl inhaled sharply, then a cock was knocking at the door. I moaned as he slipped inside my lubricated walls, sighed as I felt his bush on my ass. I unhinged; pistoned on his cock like well-oiled machinery in my need. I fingered my clit and in seconds, my entire body locked as tingles zipped up my calves, across my thighs and exploded between my clit and pussy. Darryl hiccupped, and said “Oh, damn,” before joining me somewhere over our private rainbow.
Uma.
She was hired almost immediately after Thor’s birth. Really. My husband was very old-fashioned about some things and the nourishment of Thor was one of them. No formula for his boy. Titty milk is what he wanted and expected.
Oh, I tried. I had great hope when my 32 AA’s swelled to 32 C’s with my pregnancy. And after the birth, when I saw the first glistening of colostrums, I was more than prepared to nurse my new son. Didn’t happen. He’d gummed me for no longer than a minute, then turned to the ceiling screaming. I shifted him to the other slightly leaking breast. Same result.
“Let’s
try the breast pump,” the kind nurse suggested.
I relaxed as the plastic tube was fitted over my nipple and the plunger pulled backwards. What little breast tissue I had was sucked into the contraption. It was a bit painful, but so what? My baby needed milk. After ten minutes of suctioning, I was sick to see less than a tablespoon of milk had been retrieved and not a drop more followed.
My baby spit out the pacifier and was now screaming to the heavens again. I cried along with him. The nurse slid a warm soy-milk filled bottle into my hands and sat Thor back in my lap. I looked at it in horror.
“My husband…he doesn’t like formula,” I said through my tears, hoping that she’d somehow understand what sin I was committing even holding the bottle.
The nurse nodded and patted my hands. “Might not, but I don’t like hungry babies either. Feed.”
“He’ll be upset.”
She leaned down to my eye level. “Then you both need to come up with a solution before this baby starves to death.” She pushed the hand holding the bottle toward Thor’s squalling mouth. “Feed.”
Thor hungrily sucked the milk into his stomach as my stomach swirled waiting for Darryl.
As I imagined, Darryl had foamed at the mouth, accusations on the tip of his tongue as he listened to the nurse explain that I was dry. Agalactia, she called it. After she left, he turned disappointed eyes on me. “I’ll fix this,” he’d said through clenched teeth, eyes drifting down in disdain to my useless mammary glands, before stomping through the door.
And he did.
Uma was waiting for us as we arrived home from the hospital. I was taken aback at the short, brown woman, wide of hips, with a thick waist, breasts jutting from her chest rivaling the best producing Jersey’s udder, helping us from the car.
My mouth dropped. Where in the hell had Darryl found a nurse-maid? It was 2007, not 1807! Darryl explained that Uma had just delivered a stillborn child, was single, alone, and needed a job. And according to him, Uma had told him it was the easiest money she’d ever earn.
All I know is, at Thor’s first squall, she’d opened her shirt, positioned his lips and that was that—the beginning of the unraveling of my well-ordered life.
I stared into the darkness, restless, unable to sleep in the wee hours when I heard Thor’s, “Uma, thuck.” A flash sweat coated my skin. The covers were slowly shifted from my body and, millimeter by millimeter, I rolled out of the bed, and tiptoed to Uma’s bedroom door.
From the nightlight in her room—placed there for Thor—I could see him already nestled in the crook of her arm. Slurps and smacks reached my ears, telling me he was already suckling. My pussy juice factory revved to life; sent backup hormone to my now throbbing clit.
I was jealous and turned on. I’d once asked Uma how she felt when Thor was sucking. “Like breathing. It’s as natural as breathing,” she’d answered. Watching them, I believed her.
I listened until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I tipped back to my bedroom, eased into the bed and ran heated hands over Darryl’s belly, licked his neck.
“Quit.” He swatted at my hand in his underwear. “I’m tired.” And rolled over, pulling the covers tightly to his body.
That’s my line.
I stared at his handsome features, sexual tension making me bold. I tried to slide my hand between his waist and elbow and was met with a not so pleasant squeeze of my fingers. “Stop it. I’ve got a big meeting in the morning and I’ve got to get my sleep.”
Rebuffed, I sat back, continued to stare at the back of his head. No, I tried to will him to fuck me by employing my never-before-used telepathic powers until I heard his snores. I looked down at my chest. It was flat as a pubescent boy’s with two stiff points relieving it. I cupped the bullets, pulled at the center, wishing for the thousandth time I’d been the lucky chick whose boob cup had runneth over. Resigned to not getting any cock, I let my fingers slide into my panties, imprinted Uma’s orbs on my mind, while I mashed and stroked my clit until my eyeballs rolled inside my head as the powerful orgasm fried my brain cells.
Another day, another episode of hide-and-peek for me. But the solution to my problem had finally come in my post-orgasmic high: Uma had to go.
I’d broached the subject tentatively earlier this morning. I’d suggested to Darryl that we wean Thor from Uma. My thirst for the taboo grew daily and I was valiantly trying to hold onto the tenuous thread, the last remnant of my sanity. Besides, Thor was two and had ten teeth to boot. It was time.
Darryl gave me a lazy, irritated look, continuing to pull his tie around his collar before he spoke. “Why would we do that? Hell, Thor is bigger than any other two-year-old we know, he never gets colds, so what harm can it do?”
“It’s time,” I repeated again, jaw tight from the effort to not scream the words at him.
“Naw. I could see if he was five and going to pre-K or something and had to be weaned, but otherwise, I say let him continue to nurse and we’ll revisit this again when he turns three.”
Seven whole months away! Who knew what compartment of Hell I would have secured for my soul in that time?
He gave me the perfunctory marital kiss before heading out the door. The topic was finished as far as he was concerned.
Now, I sat tense as a cornered cat, waiting for Thor’s little feet and voice. I didn’t have to wait long. It was less than a half hour before he shuffled down the hallway, rubbing sleepy eyes. He glanced my way and I motioned him over for a hug. Baby stink breath floated up my nose as I clutched him to my flat chest, wanting his hands to seek my comfort; need me. After a quick tickle session, he wriggled from my lap in search of what he truly wanted.
“Uma, thuck.”
I slunk behind the doorway and positioned myself just so. I knew Uma was well aware I watched them, yet I needed to deny this urge, this thirst which had rapidly magnified into a fetish. I slid my eyes around the door jam and stopped. Today, Uma sat facing me; waiting for me. I stood enthralled as Thor patted her hand as she unzipped her shirt slowly, eyes never leaving mine.
There was no bra.
I squeezed my thighs together as the huge globes spilled into view. Uma lifted the mountainous tissue to meet Thor’s darting tongue and he dipped his head, mouth covering the center of the dark circle. My womb squeezed and released. Milk pooled and ran rivulets down her breast before dripping onto the floor. My nipples blossomed, chest constricted on my lungs. I felt dizzy, the air too dense to breath.
Uma’s cat grin greeted me as I composed myself. Her hand held the free orb, and as I watched, she expressed milk. The beads of white moved me to my soul. My tongue unconsciously flicked out of my mouth, sensing the air; preparing for the offered forbidden feast.
“Ow!” Uma’s yelped broke me from my trance. “You bit me!”
She had rescued the injured nipple and I could see the indentations of Thor’s teeth from where I stood. I winced for her.
Uma slid him from her lap, half-fed, and said, “Why don’t you go watch Power Rangers?”
Thor’s little head nodded. Uma patted him on the bottom and he trotted away, legs churning as he headed toward the den on the other side of the house. I followed in his wake, wanting to make sure his television experience was all it should be. Once I’d slid the DVD in and modulated the volume, I retraced my steps back to the kitchen.
Uma stood by the sink, water running, band aids and triple antibiotic ointment on the counter beside her. She turned as I entered. My eyes immediately fell to the objects of my obsession—one slightly deflated, the other appeared swollen enough to burst if so much as pricked with a pin.
“That must hurt,” I managed to eke out.
“Yes, it does.” She nodded. “Since your little man got teeth, it’s happening more and more often. Soon, I’ll have to wean him. Ouch!” Uma cried out as she pressed the wet paper towel over her injured flesh.
I was by her side in a moment. “Let me see.”
Suddenly, I was up-close-and-personal with he
r right nipple. I stared at the landscape of puckered flesh, engorged purple-green veins with the hint of red arteries beside them running across her chest, making the breast throb, lift less than a foot from my face…and mouth. I heard nothing but my heart thudding, pussy weeping, as I pressed shaking fingertips around the mini-craters created by Thor. No blood was evident, but from Uma’s reaction, I’d expected some.
“Would you rub some of that ointment on that area where he bit me?” Uma said, voice low and, in my mind, seductive.
I should have straightened up, left her to tend to her own injury, sat my ass back on the couch and returned to the Land of Boredom. Instead, I watched as my arm extended itself, hands grabbed the tube of triple antibiotic and squeezed an inch or two of the thick ointment onto my index finger. Tentatively, oh so tentatively, I dabbed at the offended nipple. Uma moaned a bit in the back of her throat. I rubbed around and around the unfamiliar skin, memorizing each bump, ridge, smooth expanse beneath my fingers.
Our eyes met. Uma’s were glazed but the message was direct: suck, now. She lifted the unsucked globe, held it outward, egging me on. I took a deep, ragged breath as the denizen from Hell cut the string holding my willpower intact, and moved my opened mouth forward. Milk spurted as I sucked inward—nectar from the gods.
All bets were off! My hands cupped, held the poundage, mouth unhinged as I tried to stuff as much of her tit as possible into my mouth. My head rotated, teeth nipped lightly on the nipple as the watery manna warmed my stomach. I was further energized when Uma squeezed, caused the milk to spray the back of my throat.
“Wait.” Uma pushed me backward, grabbed my hand and pulled me behind her. We entered her bedroom. “Thor might walk in on us in the kitchen.” She turned back to me, shed her shirt from her body; allowed me the opportunity to appraise her entire chest unclothed. I left my tube top on since I felt I had nothing in comparison to offer.
She sat on the bed, breasts bouncing, legs splayed wide. Her hand covered mine and tugged downward. I seated myself between those healthy thighs, wasted no time melding my lips to her dripping nipples. In the privacy, I allowed my other hand to fondle, squirt milk from the unattended breast. Uma pressed on the back of my head, urging me on. I felt my pussy release a load of juice, which slowly crawled from the side of my wet panties and trailed down my inner thighs.