Purple Panties

by Zane

  Instead of keeping my eyes on the ball and who had it, I threw a quick glance Brenda’s way. What I didn’t see was Shaundrice barreling down the court headed in my direction. When I turned around, it was too late.

  “Owww!” I screamed as her elbow made contact with my nose, making a sickening cracking sound, as she flew up to make a shot. Pain shot through my face and jaw instantly. Instinctively I brought my hands to my face when I felt the wetness. Blood flowed everywhere, like a river onto my jersey.

  “Damn, that looks bad.” Shaundrice smirked as she looked at my face from a short distance away.

  “You freakin’ broke my nose!” I yelled at her, holding my jersey to my nose to try to stem the flow. I couldn’t believe her indifference.

  “If you hadn’t been staring at Brenda’s tits, you would’ve’ seen me coming, girlfriend!” she countered. “That…” She pointed to my nose as she walked away. “…is why you got to keep your eyes on the damn ball, boo!”

  I had to leave the court for the rest of the game. Incredibly, the next day, the phone rang and it was Shaundrice. She said she felt bad about what happened and wanted to make it up to me. We went out for coffee and the rest is history. She liked my spunk and said that I wasn’t a bad basketball player for a skinny white girl from Long Island. We’ve been friends ever since, each one still trying to top the other.

  As I lie in bed, I try to pick up where we left off in the dream. My pussy is throbbing and in a state of urgent need. I turn on my stomach and reach down between my legs. Finding my clit, I rub it gently and then dip my fingers into my pussy. Returning my wet fingers back to the center of wicked pleasure, I slide them over and over my clit again, roughly feeling the heat build in my groin. Soon my mind and feverish body are entering the ecstatic point of no return. I feel a climax coming on and groan quietly as a deliciously strong orgasm begins to roll through my body like a huge tidal wave, rendering me helpless and painfully struggling to be quiet so as not to wake her.

  “Ahhhhhhhh!” I hoarsely whisper, waiting for my orgasm to subside.

  Fortunately, she is a hard sleeper and doesn’t move. I’m relieved.

  Almost immediately, I fall blissfully back asleep once I’ve come.

  While in a deep sleep, I stir slightly when I feel the sensation of something brushing against my neck. Mmmmm…

  Soon, I feel weight on my body. I open my eyes.

  Straddling over my hips, I feel the heat from Shaundrice’s hot crotch searing through the sheet onto my back.

  She purrs in my ear. “Pretty white girl from Long Island, you ready for round two?”

  It wasn’t a dream after all!

  Holy freakin’ mother of God, I am screwed…literally!

  I’m glad she can’t see my face because I’m holding it between my hands with my mouth open in a silent scream, like that blonde kid in the movies.

  “Your body is so hot, baby. I want to fuck you again.”

  She’s kissing my neck, nipping at my shoulders and licking my skin.

  I grimace and grit my teeth as I flinch and yelp with each nip, twisting my body and writhing with her still on top. She interprets this as me getting turned on.

  “Wooohooo!” she hoots. “You go, girl! Baby likes it rough!”

  She’s laughing gleefully as she slaps my ass every time I squirm.

  If it were someone else, this would be comical situation. The more I buck and fidget, the more she scolds and delivers a slap to my butt. Soon the slaps are getting harder and harder, to the point of stinging. She’s not laughing anymore either.

  Whack! This blow is much harder than the rest. The skin on my ass is getting hot, yet I find myself inexplicably wanting more. The pain is transforming itself into a delicious, sultry burning pleasure.

  “Oh!” I yelp as she delivers yet another slap.

  I involuntarily tighten my ass cheeks and grind my hips into the bed in violent reaction. Moisture is seeping between my legs as I slide my thighs together with each thrash of her hand. Whether I want it to or not, my body is surrendering to her, despite my apprehension about what this will do to our friendship.

  Suddenly she shifts and pulls the sheet away from my body. Her hand tugs at my panties while she uses her upper body to hold me down now. I feel her tongue as it darts around the outside of my ear, sliding up and down until she finds my earlobe and sucks on it. Chills run down both my arms and legs. Soft moans escape my mouth and my pussy aches with unrelenting tension.

  I feel the familiar warmth of her breasts as they press into my back.

  “Wait!” I exclaim, pushing her gently off of my body and away from me.

  She looks surprised and stares blankly at me.

  “We made love last night because we were drunk! What’s this going to do to us? What about our friendship?”

  “Nothing is going to change,” she says, totally in denial.

  Of course everything will change; how could it not? I think to myself as I stare back at her for a few minutes in silence. But what’s done is done. My body doesn’t want to stop and I’m going to ignore my heart.

  “What does your king daddy stud muffin want to hear, baby?” she asks in a low, taunting voice as she crawls on her knees and back over my body.

  “So much for our friendship…this is much better. Fuck me harder this time, lover,” I reply, raising my ass for whatever she has to deliver.

  “Thas’ my girl.”

  Dylynn DeSaint lives in the Southwest with her partner. Disguised as a librarian by day, Dylynn finds pleasure in letting her mind wander to the naughtiest of places at every free moment. By night, she is a freelance writer. She finds her inspiration for stories while people-watching in all worlds, both physical and virtual. Her works are included in the following anthologies: Best Date Ever: True Stories That Celebrate Lesbian Relationships and Iridescence: Sensuous Shades of Erotica. Contact her at DylynnDesaint@gmail.com

  Mom’s Night Out

  Regina Jamison

  I had originally joined Mission Mommies as an outlet for my children. It was a way for them to meet and make friends with other children. It was also an outlet for me. It allowed me to make connections with other African-American women who were stay-at-home moms. The activities that were arranged for the children were always great. But the moms’ night outs were even better.

  Tammy was not the leader of Mission Mommies but she had a tendency to take over. High of spirit and behind, both her mouth and her ass were always in motion. Some of the moms silently disapproved of Tammy’s buoyancy, but I found it and her exciting. Needless to say, we became fast friends.

  We would meet, outside of the group, at each other’s homes. While our children played blissfully together upstairs, Tammy and I conversed downstairs. We would talk from one thing to the other, moving in and out of each topic with ease. Then one day we got into a discussion about lesbians. Who was; who wasn’t. Which movie stars had come out publicly and those, whom we suspected, who were still hiding.

  “Well, there’s Rosie O’Donnell and Melissa Etheridge,” Tammy said. We had walked into the kitchen where she was getting us some lemonade.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, watching her ass as she moved from the refrigerator to the counter. “But where are all the African-American lesbians? There’s only Jennifer Beale who pretends at being a lesbian on The L Word.”

  “Oh, my God. You watch that show, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you watch it?” Tammy asked. She walked over to the table and set our glasses down. Sweat rolled down the front of mine. I wiped my hand and my brow. I watched her breasts jiggle as she moved around in the kitchen chair, trying to make herself comfortable.

  “Well, the sex is hot for one. Two, the sex is hot and three, the characters are believable.”

  “I agree,” Tammy said. Then she took a long gulp of her drink.

  Her eyes were on me the whole time. It was as if she were studying me. Weighing the words she wanted to say. I kept m
y eyes on her—not shying away from the challenge. But, for some reason, I was nervous. I disguised my trepidation by holding onto my glass tightly and sucking down my drink. Tammy lowered her glass slightly from her lips. She spoke over the top of her cup.

  “Have you ever had a lesbian encounter?”

  “Me?” I said almost immediately. “Umm…why do you ask?” It was an avoidance strategy I’d picked up years before. Answer a question with a question. It took the focus off of me.

  “I’m curious, is all. When I was in college I had a tumultuous affair with my roommate. The sex was great and I loved her dearly, but I didn’t know what to do with us at the time. So, I inadvertently treated her badly and jeopardized the relationship. Years later, I realized that she was the first person I, truly, ever loved.”

  “You never saw her again?” I asked.

  “No. Sadly, I haven’t. But I think about her often.”

  “Have you been with any other women since then?”

  “No. Shortly after my breakup with her, I got married and had kids.”

  I took a long pull from my drink before I said, “Would you like to make love to a woman again?”

  Tammy looked at me for a moment. She sat her glass down on the table. “I would. My husband is an excellent lover but…I mean, really, it has nothing to do with him. I just miss the feel of a woman. The softness. The sexiness. Maybe even the whole taboo aspect of it. So, I’d have to say, yes, I would like to make love to a woman again. What about you?”

  “Me? What?” I asked. I was playing the avoidance game again.

  “Oh, come on, Gail. I just spilled my guts to you about something very personal and you keep avoiding the issue. Now, why is that?” Her words held suspicion.

  I got up and walked over to the counter to pour myself some more lemonade. I thought it would be easier to respond to Tammy’s questions if I didn’t have to face her. With my back to her, I said, “Yes.”

  I heard Tammy turn around in her chair. I kept my face to the wall.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I have had lesbian encounters and, yes, I’d like to continue to do so.”

  “I thought you had done some dabbling.”

  “Why did you think that?”

  “Because of the way you look at me sometimes. I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at some of the other moms in the group. It’s like you’re touching us with your eyes. Soft and tiny caresses.”

  “Oh.” That was all I managed to say.

  Tammy’s chair rubbed against the floor. I heard her coming toward me but I remained as I was; my back to her, my face to the wall. Then I felt her breath on my neck and her pussy on my ass. Her hands were wrapped around my waist. My heart pounded. I couldn’t breathe.

  “You know, Gail,” Tammy said softly in my right ear. “I was thinking, it could be you. You could be my next lesbian experience. Would you like that?” Her right hand slipped down toward my crotch.

  “Yes,” I said.

  I rolled my head back and closed my eyes. Slowly, she stroked the lips between my thighs. I gasped, leaned into her and parted my legs. Tammy reached in further. She fondled my pussy deeply and gently. It felt good. I moved to her rhythm. My vaginal lips swelled and filled with moisture. She pressed her fingers into my wet pussy and pressed her cunt into my wanton ass. Her stroke hastened. I pumped faster. I was in a frenzy. I’d dreamed of this moment since the first time we’d met. Now, my wish was being fulfilled. Our movements quickened still. Tammy rode my ass like a rodeo cowboy and I fucked her hand steadily. She lifted my halter top at the waist and squeezed my breasts and nipples. My nipples hardened to her touch. My pussy and panties were drenched. I was so close to coming.

  “Ahh, yes, Gail. Yes,” Tammy said. “I’m finally fucking you.”

  Apparently, it was a shared dream. Her words resonated right through me and I came with a fury immediately after they were spoken. I collapsed onto the countertop. Tammy continued to pump her pussy into my further protruded ass.

  “Yes, I’m fucking you, Gail,” she said. “I…am…fucking…you!” She accentuated each word with firm, forward thrusts. Her hand still worked on my pussy and I continued to spasm. Tammy’s humping quickened still.

  “Gail. Oh, Gail. I’m coming,” she said. “I’m coming. Oh, I’m coming. Yes! Oh, yes.”

  Tammy came, nearly lifting me off the floor with every thrust. Then she fell over on top of me. We stood this way for awhile. We caught our breath and listened to the children playing upstairs. Finally, we stood up. I turned around to face Tammy. I looked at her. She looked at me. We grabbed and embraced each other. Our mouths clamped together, like magnets, in a deep, lingering kiss. When we pulled apart, Tammy said, “We must do that again…soon.”

  I smiled. I kissed her gently on the lips, this time savoring the taste of her.

  “Yes. I agree. But when? Where? I mean, I’d like to make love to you. All of you.”

  “Yes, I’d like that, too.” Tammy thought for a moment. “Hey, what about Saturday? Are you free?”

  “I’m free, but our husbands will be home.”

  “We’ll tell them it’s moms’ night out. We’ll get a hotel room and indulge ourselves fully,” Tammy said.

  “That sounds like a plan,” I said. “I can’t wait.”

  “Neither can I,” she said. A long, lingering kiss was our handshake.

  Saturday finally arrived. The morning and afternoon proved busy for me with errands, art classes for the kids, and fencing practice. But all the while my thoughts were on that night and Tammy. The experience we had shared in her kitchen was exhilarating. When my husband made love to me two days after my tryst, I had thought of Tammy. His tongue was her tongue. His hands were her hands. His dick, her pussy. Thank God, it was Saturday because I wanted more!

  As the evening approached, I was uncertain about what to wear. It was a June night; around eighty degrees and a slight breeze blew. I wanted to look sexy for Tammy but not too sexy so as to be questioned by my husband. I decided to wear a plain, softly pleated, blue skirt and a white sleeveless top. Underneath, I wore a frilly black satin bra and thong with garters and stockings. I felt sexually ripe. I wondered what Tammy would wear. I pictured her in a candy apple red, laced teddy. The color, a beautiful contrast against her deep, dark skin. I saw her lying back on the bed, legs spread, her pussy glinting in the light. I had to stop imagining and focus. Time would bring us together soon.

  When I got to the hotel, Tammy had checked in already. The desk clerk gave me the key to room 413. I went upstairs. I let myself in. I was taken aback by the sight before me. Tammy and two other women were seated on an ostensibly large bed. They were kissing and groping one another. Finally, Tammy saw me.

  “Gail.” She got up and walked toward me.

  I looked at her. I raised my eyebrows a bit. This slight gesture evoked all I wanted to say. Tammy took my hand and kissed me. Her breath, lips, were warm and laced with wine. Pinot.

  Or was it Chardonnay?

  “Don’t worry,” Tammy whispered in my ear. “I know them very well. We’ll have fun. I promise.”

  I didn’t doubt that fun was to be had. I wanted fun. Fun, I could do. But I wanted Tammy for myself. Who were these women? Why did Tammy opt for the bigger experience? Were she and I, together, not enough?

  Tammy pulled me further into the room, toward the bed where the other women waited.

  “This is Gail,” she said as she pointed to me.

  “Hello, Gail,” said a pecan-colored woman. She had naturally red hair that hung down to her waist. It was locked. Her breasts billowed out over the top of her shirt. A blatant invitation.

  “That’s Sierra,” Tammy said.

  “Hello, Sierra.”

  Then Tammy pointed to the other woman. She was brown-skinned. Her hair was cut in what we used to call a “Caesar.” African designed earrings hung from each ear. She seemed average to me. But then she smiled and said, “Hello, Gail.” They were the same words uttere
d by the other woman, but this time, they were sexually infused. There was a heat to them and her smile lit up the room.

  “This is Bronique.” Tammy massaged the woman’s shoulder.

  “Bronique, you have a lovely voice,” I said.

  “Thank you.” She smiled that sexy smile again. I decided to sit down next to her. This could be fun after all, I thought.

  Tammy handed me a large glass of wine, then took center stage. “Now that we’re all acquainted, I’d like to propose a toast.”

  We lifted our glasses and waited. Our suite had a balcony. The doors of which were thrown open. Warm air and faint city noises rushed in. The sky was several shades lighter than our wine. The view from where I sat was breathtaking.

  “Here’s to love, lasciviousness, and lesbians,” Tammy said. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” we said.

  I drained my glass. Bronique got up to get me another drink. I watched Sierra as she got up and walked to the small bedside table. She put a Sade CD into the CD player. Tammy sat down beside me.

  “Good-looking women,” I whispered to Tammy as I checked out the other women’s bodies. “But who are they? I thought this was going to be just you and me?”

  “I know. But Bronique and Sierra are old friends and they wanted to try something new. All of us, together, here, is something new. Don’t you want to try something new? I thought I’d surprise you.”

  “I’m very surprised,” I said.

  “I thought you’d be pleased. I think you are…especially with Bronique. I saw the way you looked at her. I think she’s into you, too. Did you see that ass? Girl!! Shhh, here she comes.”

  “I thought you’d like more wine,” Bronique said. She bent slightly to hand me the glass.

  Our hands touched and a warmth spread through me.

  “Come. Sit,” I said. I patted the space beside me. Tammy got up and walked toward Sierra. Bronique sat down.