Black Babe Backstage: A Lesbian Erotica Short Story
Page 3
Nikki started to feel wobbly, her thighs quaking and trembling as Winona focused on her clit. She could hear Winona slurping at her, licking and suckling, and her clit felt like it was going to jump right out of her pussy and into Winona’s mouth. A thick goopy globule of creaminess dripped out from between her pussy lips, white and viscid, and lazily oozed down Nikki’s inner thigh. With Winona’s thrusting, Nikki could feel her body bouncing lightly back and forth, her tits swinging as she moved.
As the toy infiltrated her ass, her hole closed in around its bulk, her little wrinkly folds stretched out and accepting of the dildo. Nikki could feel it moving inside of her, stretching her insides, pushing against the walls inside of her ass, giving her a sense of fulfillment and completeness.
Her pussy dripped and oozed, so moist, so desirous, and suddenly it began to pulse. Nikki could feel the subtle contractions between her legs, her pussy squeezing and releasing, pumping as the dildo pumped into her ass. Little tingles of pressure coursed through her lower half, bursts of distinct energy moving through her and causing her elbows and knees to wobble.
“I’m almost there,” she moaned. Winona doubled her efforts, pushing the dildo into Nikki’s ass even faster, lapping even more sloppily at her pussy. Sucking and licking and pushing and fucking.
Nikki could feel her mind go blank, her mouth fall open and a light spittle drip over her lip. Behind her the penetrations continued, her ass getting completely plowed thanks to Winona’s speedy wrist and the thick pink toy in her grasp. A coolness fell over Nikki’s arms, giving her goosebumps and inspiring her fingers to go numb. Her hips began to buck against the dildo, thighs shaking and shivering, her stomach was knotted. Then she cried out in one loud moan, gasping for air, pulsing and quivering. Nikki was coming hard and it was amazing.
Winona, watching as Nikki convulsed, sat up and lovingly petted one of her ass cheeks. She slowly eased the dildo out of Nikki’s ass, observing as Nikki’s hole closed around the piece. Once the dildo popped out of Nikki’s ass, Winona dropped it to the bed below and watched as Nikki’s little hole opened and closed with her panting breaths.
“Oh shit,” exclaimed Nikki, little sporadic shivers wending through her. It was simply all too much and she collapsed her ass down onto the bed, curling up into a ball as she chased after her breath. Shocks of orgasm continued to move through her in unpredictable asynchronous spurts.
“Your ass is so hot,” remarked Winona, still petting her friend adoringly. “So big and round.”
“I can still feel that dildo inside of me,” said Nikki, inebriated in post-coital exasperation. “Is it still there?”
“No babe,” cooed Winona lightly. “It’s out.”
“Oh God,” mused Nikki, beginning to come down. Slithering her hands up into the pillows, she gripped on to any fabric she could find.
“I’m going to get some water,” said Winona, sitting up on her knees, her hand still caressing Nikki’s ass. “Me next?”
“Mm hmm,” said Nikki, eyes closed, nodding, seeing stars behind her eyelids. She sighed happily. Winona hopped up off of the bed and scurried out of the room, leaving Nikki in bed alone to regain her composure.
Nikki felt totally high and complete, everything feeling as though it had fallen into place. As she breathed, she could feel soft pulses in her pussy and her ass. She wanted more and now, regaining her strength, she wanted to repay Winona for her passionate attention. Nikki opened her eyes softly and looked to the clock on Winona’s bedside table. It was getting late but she had a feeling they were going to be up for a while longer.
Tenderly rubbing her own ass, Nikki smiled to herself and dug into the blankets, eagerly awaiting her friend’s return.
*
Thank you so much for reading Black Babe Backstage! I write these stories for you and sincerely hope you enjoy them. If you liked this story, please leave a positive review on Amazon and let me know what you loved most. Reviews not only help to inform potential readers of a good book, but they also let us authors know we’re on the right track. Writing and publishing is a tireless profession, and there’s nothing more rewarding than positive feedback from readers. Thank you so much for your support!
Love,
Nico
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AN EXCERPT FROM: DORMITORY DEAREST
*
I NEVER THOUGHT college would be this weird. I mean, I was really excited about it leading up to the big move but I didn’t really know what to expect apart from what you see in movies. None of my close friends, of which I had few, went to the same college as me so it was like I was going off on this new adventure all by myself. Nobody knew me, I could reinvent myself if I wanted, I could be a totally new person and carve out a completely different path if I so chose. But once I got to school, I found that I simply couldn’t help but be me. Geeky, introverted, freaky me.
Nerdy Natasha. Lucky I ended up in the same small arts dorm with all the other nerdy outcasts and not in one of the huge student ghettos filled with roving bands of bleached bimbos looking for an easy target like me to sink their teeth into. No, as an English major I had been asked by some benevolent cosmic force if I would like to enroll in the residential college for Arts & Letters students and without even knowing much about the program I dutifully accepted. The program was called ALOHA, which stood for Arts & Letters Organized Housing Association, and it was a total lifesaver for a girl like me.
My dorm was quite small, being one of the oldest dorm buildings on campus, and was only three floors high as opposed to some of those much larger skyscraper dorms that peppered the huge campus of my midwestern farm school. It was like we had our own little sanctuary where we could just be us. All kinds were welcome but it was an overwhelmingly geeky atmosphere. I liked that. But, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t prepared for the level of geekiness. Much different than high school. These students had much more passion. More spunk.
The beauty about my dorm, Leopold Hall, was that the entire student population within its walls were ALOHA students. It really was like we were on some island. Some island for weirdos. Totally awesome.
So when I say that I never thought college would be this weird, I mean weird in a good way. Strangely exciting. Different. Filled with possibility and acceptance and with very limited, if any, judgment from peers. We were all just there doing our own thing. English majors and writers like myself, theater students, visual artists, the outcast art crew. It was a terrific amalgam of my university’s creative contingent and it was nothing like I had anticipated. Utopia, almost.
And the things that happened to me, well, I couldn’t have anticipated them either.
Each floor of Leopold Hall housed a different year of ALOHA students. So the freshmen like me were on the first floor, sophomores on the second, and juniors on the third. The third floor was much smaller than the other two floors and was all single rooms, rather than the doubles that the freshman and sophomores got. And generally that was fine because by the third year many students drifted away from ALOHA. I could see that it was a good program to start out in, to help you get adjusted to college life, but by the time you’re a junior you want to live off campus, spread your wings and all that. The way the years were laid out in the dorm worked out swimmingly. Girls on one side of each floor, boys on the other.
And my roommate, Whitney, was a blast.
“You know what’s awesome
?” asked Whitney, sitting on the couch under our lofted beds wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, her dirty blonde hair twisted up tightly into a bun. Whitney was an outgoing theater major and I was happy to have been paired with her.
“What’s awesome?” I asked, sitting sideways in my desk chair, avoiding working on a paper for my English class.
“I felt like, in high school, most boys wouldn’t even give me the time of day,” she said, something I found hard to believe considering she was a pretty girl with an affable personality. “But here in ALOHA, all these boys are totally creaming themselves over me.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her.
“You’re a nut,” I said. Watching Whitney fuss with her hair, I couldn’t help but fuss with my own hair in mimic. While I was a natural redhead, freckled and all, I dyed my hair a more vibrant red because it made me feel fun. Following Whitney’s lead, I pushed my own hair up into a bun and tied it in place with a piece of elastic from around my wrist.
“What?” she said innocently, stifling a grin.
“I just don’t believe that you had trouble with boys,” I said. “You’re totally lying to me.”
“Well…” said Whitney, looking off sheepishly. “Maybe it’s just that I’m getting more attention here at college. It’s skewing my memory.”
“Exactly,” I said.
“I think I’m leaning toward Justin,” she mused, almost as though she were talking to herself. “He’s kinda beefy and brooding.”
“Eh,” I said in an unimpressed tone. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?” said Whitney. “He’s cute. He’s got that James Dean thing going on. Tight white t-shirts,” she said, almost giggling.
“You’re so damn girly,” I said. Even though I said this is a bit of a derogatory way, I actually loved how girly Whitney was. She kind of balanced me out. And I knew that she knew I didn’t mean anything by it.
“And you could take some lessons!” retorted Whitney with a snort, crossing her arms. “If you don’t think Justin’s cute, who do you like over on the boys’ side?”
“The boys’ side?” I asked, feeling a little put on the spot and cornered. “I mean, I don’t know.”
“There’s a lot of nerds over there,” Whitney admitted. “Can’t tear a couple of those dudes from their computer games. But there are definitely some hotties. You can tell me, Natasha. Who are you sweet on?”
“Whitney,” I groaned with embarrassment.
“Tasha,” said Whitney, impatiently awaiting my answer.
“I don’t know,” I reiterated.
“Fine,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I said, slightly acquiescing. “It’s that I don’t know. None of them, I think.”
“What about Michael?” she asked. “He’s an English major, just like you. I like his long hair.”
“No, I don’t like Michael,” I said. “He’s fine, I mean, he’s a good guy. But I’m not, like, sweet on him.”
“People are already shacking up,” said Whitney matter-of-factly. “And a lot of the sophomore boys already have girlfriends. You’re gonna miss out, Natasha.” Whitney then had a brightening thought and her face lit up. “I bet you like a boy in one of your classes!”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said, standing up from my desk chair and wandering over to my closet. Opening my closet door up, I fished around inside to find my sleeping clothes. With a slight flutter in my heart, knowing that Whitney’s eyes were on me, I cautiously pushed my jeans down my legs and began to change clothes.
“The reason I’m pressing you on all this is because I care about you,” said Whitney. “You’re my roommate. We’re in this together.”
“Thanks,” I said, pulling my jeans off my feet, standing there now in just a t-shirt sporting the university’s logo and my panties. I retrieved some athletic grey worn-in shorts from my closet and quickly pulled them up my legs.
“And…” said Whitney, continuing, wagging a finger at me. “You know the ALOHA trip to Stratford, Ontario is coming up for the Shakespeare Festival. We’re all staying overnight there and it’s going to be a total fuck fest.”
“Oh my God! Whitney!” I exclaimed. “I’m not going to just pick some boy so we can screw around during the Shakespeare trip.”
“I’m just teasing,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But, you know, it’ll be fun to partner up with a boy on that trip.”
“It’s not like we’ll be sleeping in the same room with the guys,” I said, turning from the closet and walking back over to her. As I walked, I slipped my hand inside my t-shirt and unhooked my bra, then deftly began maneuvering out of it and eventually pulling it out from my sleeve. “It’ll probably be you and me sleeping in the same hotel room.”
“And just maybe I’ll slide down the hall to a boy’s room,” said Whitney with a grin. She was not impressed with my annoyed face. “Oh c’mon.”
“I’m going to bed,” I said, stepping to the wooden ladder connected to our loft. Our beds were both lofted up near the ceiling, giving us a bit more space in the otherwise small dorm room.
“Wait,” she said. “I’m sorry, Natasha,” Whitney admitted. “I’m just teasing you. You don’t have to like any of the boys on the other side of the hall. I’m just being a gossipy girl.” She frowned softly.
“That’s okay,” I admitted, putting my foot on the first rung of the ladder.
“Will you tell me when you do like a boy?” Whitney asked with a pleading tone. I could tell she just cared about me and wanted to be involved in my life. She didn’t have any kind of nefarious plot otherwise. She just liked talking about what she considered to be girly things.
“Yes,” I said, feeling a softness in my heart for her. She really was a sweet friend. “You’ll be the first to know.”
*
But I wasn’t being completely honest with Whitney. It wasn’t that I didn’t like any of the other freshmen boys on the other side of our dorm. It was that I hadn’t really thought romantically about a boy for a long time. The last time I remembered thinking that I liked a boy was probably early on in high school. But it was kind of short lived. I just thought he was interesting and when I told some of my friends that, they interpreted it as though I liked him romantically. And I went along with it, half-pretending I had a crush on him to satisfy the projections of my friends.
I can admit that I was a bit of a late bloomer. I didn’t really date at all in high school and now that I was in college, feeling a new sense of freedom and excitement, I was ready to expand my horizons and find romance. But the problem was… I just wasn’t interested in the guys.
Ugh. I feel like I’m being cagey and indecisive here. The truth is, dear reader, that as I aged and the idea of romance slipped into my brain, I always thought of other girls.
I didn’t know how to say that out loud. Not to my family or friends, not to Whitney, and I sometimes found it difficult to even say it to myself. I know logically that a girl liking other girls isn’t really that big of deal. You see it on television and in movies all the time now. There’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian. I was just having a difficult time saying it. I can’t explain it. The words wanted to jump out of my mouth, but when I parted my lips they just wouldn’t exit. I was confident that I’d figure it out at college, finally come out of my shell, maybe even shuck this husk of introversion off my shoulders. But I had to wait until the time was right, you know?
It was midday and there was hustle and bustle around the cafeteria, students filing in and students filing out. I had just returned from my morning English class and before getting lunch, I wanted to stop in at the ALOHA office in the basement of the dorm to chat with them about the upcoming Shakespeare trip. As I wandered through the lobby of Leopold Hall, I ran into Meghan, one of the other freshman girls in the program. We weren’t really all that friendly with each other yet, but we’d talked a couple of times.
“In just a few,” I said. “I’m going to go stop into the ALOHA office first.”
“I’ll save you a spot at the table,” said Meghan. “What are you going to the office for?”
“Just to talk and pay for my spot,” I said. “Do you know if it’ll be Sacco down there or someone else?” Anna Sacco was the head of ALOHA, a professor at the university, and a very smart lady. She was also a published and respected poet.
“I don’t know,” mused Meghan. “I imagine Sacco is teaching a class or something. I don’t see her around Leopold very much.”
“Have you ever stopped into the office?” I asked.
“Not yet,” she said. “I suppose I still need to pay for my spot for the trip as well!”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll meet you in the caf’ in just a few.”
“Cool!” said Meghan. She grinned and gave me a theatric wave. It made me happy to feel included.
I walked down the stairwell of the dorm and slinked through the narrow hallway. The walls were stucco and beige, like they hadn’t been redone in my lifetime. I ran my fingers along the bumpy stucco as I made my way toward the end of the hall where I knew the office was. As I neared, I saw that the office door was open and I saw the vagueness of a person sitting behind the desk.
“Hello?” I said softly, giving a gentle knock on the wooden door. The person, a young woman, looked up from the desk. At first she was surprised but then her visage melted into friendliness. She didn’t look much older than me. Her long hair, framing her face, was very dark brown, almost black, her face was pale with a light smattering of freckles near her eyes though she certainly wasn’t as freckled as me, and her eyes were a murky blue.