― Sappho
“You’re not getting in my bed with those on,” Lori said, sprawled out naked on the plaid sheets, a bony finger pointing at my not-bony hips. A tuft of thick black pubic hair between her legs, matching hair speckled up to her belly button.
I glanced down. Flowered, non-moth-eaten underwear stretched across my hips. My best pair. Not stolen from a Tinder date or stiff with wear for a week, I’d slipped them on after we had scarfed down good burgers in the tiny, shit-hole cafe bathroom. I hated the itchy lace. “But they’re cute.”
Lori smiled, rolled onto her knees. Pulled me to her, both hands on me every time she came within reaching distance. Her fingers biting into my skin and pulling me close. Her soft lips pressed against mine. “They’re so cute, baby. But not in my bed. You know the rules.”
She slumped back, a permanent grin on that face. She was right. We’d been fucking for a few months and I knew better than to crawl into her bed with panties or to dip the peanut butter knife into the jelly. I learned the hard way. Always.
I hooked my thumbs into the lace and slid them down my legs, kicking them off with very little elegance as they tangled around my ankle. Making me wobble. They fell into a pile near the plethora of charging cords spider veining out from the power strip under her bed. Her phone, vibrator, laptop, headphones, my phone. All charging with bright red dots. “Better?”
Lori raised an eyebrow. “Get in the fucking bed.”
I got in the fucking bed. With too many pillows and a stuffed octopus named Oprah. I snuggled between the cold wall and warm Lori who’s arm quickly looped around my shoulders and pulled me in for an even warmer kiss. Her tongue slipped between my lips.
“I’ve been thinking about fucking you all week.” Lori breathed against my mouth, she tugged my hand between her legs. I ran my fingers along her fur, between her legs, and felt her wet pussy slit. Felt the truth of it. I spread it open with my fingers. Her clit was puffed up, hard. Ached to be rubbed. “I wanted to bend you over my desk and eat you for lunch.”
“Fuck,” I mumbled, flattening my hand to give her a sturdier place to grind. Her hips moved slow, her dark eyes focused on mine. Light flicked in them from the twinkle lights over her windows.
“I wanted to spread your ass cheeks,” she started, against my ear. All hot breath and lust. “And lick the wetness from between your cunt lips.”
“Shit.” I needed something between my legs. Something firm, something stiff to grind on. I ached too. “I’d like that.”
“You’d like that?” She asked. “What would you like?”
“That,” I growled and pushed against her. Flatly refused to say the words, I wasn’t good at all that. The dirty talk.
“Say it and you can have it.” She smiled against my shoulder and buried her teeth into the soft, freckled flesh as I cried out.
“I can’t.” My voice wavered as she slipped her hand between my thighs. Flicked at me with her strong fingers and made me rock back and forth, I needed them against me. Until she latched on. Her fingers pressed hard into my clit. I tried to scramble back but her other hand was around the back of my neck.
“You can’t talk dirty to me? I’ve seen you bent over, naked, wet, and spread open.” Her warm, wet tongue licked my jaw. “I wanted to bite your ass until you yelped. I wanted to smell you. I wanted to fuck your ass with my tongue. It’s not so hard. Tell me what you want. Now.”
“I want you to eat my cunt.”
“More.”
“No. Ow!” She pinched my clit. That bitch pinched my clit and I grabbed ahold of her shoulders, she leaned on me until we fell back onto the soft bed. She on top of me. Her grin in my face.
“I want you to bend me over your desk and bury your face in my ass.”
“Good girl.” I was rewarded with a soft kiss on my cheek. Her fingers spread me open, dipped inside of me. She laughed. “You’re so easy, baby.”
My cunt was so wet it sounded like I’d already came.
I tried to mumble out a clever retort, but she pinned my arms above my head. Her handful-sized tits swung above me. “Spread your legs, baby.”
I did. Wide. Until it hurt my hips and the fan blew a cold breeze onto my throbbing clit.
“Sucha pretty pussy,” she growled, disappearing down my body in a series of kisses. Her tongue leaving wet patches along my skin, down my belly, to my thighs.
Lori nipped me with those sharp vampire fangs of hers. My thighs jerked. She nipped me, growled and trailed kisses to my knee. Making me wiggle with want. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Fuck you!”
Then it was warm. A wet tongue pressed against my clit and lapped like a thirsty little thing happening upon a puddle. I made a good puddle. When my wiggles became thrashing, her hands gripped my thighs and held me down. Her tongue pressing into me. Hot breath steaming against me and then my toes curled.
“You are so fucking easy,” she laughed, not bothering to wipe me off her mouth before she crawled up my body and pressed her lips to mine.
“Well you’re good at that.”
“I’m studied at eating pussy. Now roll over.”
I like Martha Stewart specifically because my father hated her. She was snooty, he said. Thought she was better than most folks which was true. She does think that. My theory is this: I think she’s right. Have you seen her jade collection or her Thanksgiving specials? The woman was totally better than us.
Martha’s new line of boxed freezer food had stared at me from behind the glass in my grocery store and I had been compelled to buy thirty dollars worth of appetizers. All scattered in my basket amongst the orange juice, cage-free eggs, decent peaches, an assorted box of tampons, and an amount of cookies I will never admit to buying.
Goat cheese crescents, Martha kitchen approved, cooked with a steady hum in my air fryer. The red glow of the letters lighting up our bare skin, a mood lighting, along with the smell of dough and cheese. Lori sat bare assed on my chair. One eyebrow raised as she watched me open the air fryer and fish out the appetizers. I plated them on a snowman plate that lived in my cabinet year round.
We divided them. Me giving her the spare because I’m romantic. Both of us went quiet as we tried them. Toasty and creamy. I sank back against the small wooden chair and sighed. “I love Martha and I love my air fryer.”
“You have an oven,” she laughed.
“This fries it.”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s no grease.”
I stood, strolled over to the icebox knowing full well she was staring at my ass. It tended to jiggle when I walked. “You like your snacks?”
She nodded.
“Then shut the fuck up.” I dug my nail under the tab of a coke can and poured it into two cups. “Hand me the Jack.”
The top drawer in the chest of drawers squeaks like a dying cat. It yowls. Let’s the old couple, who live in 2b and stink of sauerkraut, know we’re fucking. It’s like a crystal ball of whats to come: My own yowling.
Lori rifled. The drawer clean and tidy with paddles and lube and condoms and the strap-on which yes, always look a little silly. It’s hardness. It’s opal-ness. Pretty in the light and always rock hard, nose up to the sun like it’s a cunt-sniffing blood-hound. Cunt-hound. That would be Lori. Muscles and tan and pretty, but often mistaken for a boy with the short dark hair pulled up under a beanie and the “under no circumstances should you fuck with me” expression permanently affixed to her face.
“Edge of the bed,” Lori said. That tone in her voice let me know it’s not time to play, no time to be cute, it’s time to do what she fucking says. I crawled. Tits brushed the quilt, hardened my nipples, and me going quick over to the edge of the bed. Ass in the air, forearms pressed against the bed. Feet dangled off the side of the mattress. The click of the lube lid makes my cunt ache for her cock and I groaned as her strong hand landed in the middle of my back and pressed my belly against the sheets. Her other strong hand, digs into my hip as she holds me still.
“Yeah?” She teases me. The silicone clock jabbed against my cunt lips. Puffy and fat and ready.
“Please put it in me.”
“Put what in you?”
“I hate you so much.”
“The lamp?” She asked. “A nice book? A warm cup of tea? What the fuck do you want inside of you? Be more specific.”
“Your cock,” I groaned. “Please bury you stupid fucking cock in my hot little cunt.”
Her laugh was covered with my grunt as she slid inside. The cock pushed light against my resistance, opened up, and then I was full and my eyes rolled up to the ceiling.
I begged for everything.
Lori didn’t take the strap-on off while she embroidered curse words above succulents. It bulged against the cloth like a boner in math class while she picked out greens and yellows for the optimum color palette. She sat cross-legged on the leather chair. A towel under her ass so her thighs wouldn’t suction cup when she stood. Candles were lit, crackling because of their wooden wicks and popping like real cedar, they made my room smell fantastic with a hint of sex instead of that full vinegar smell of sweaty bodies rolling together. The kind that makes you open a window, get a cross breeze. Somewhere inside me it always felt like letting the intimacy slip out. My phone lit my face up blue. I was solving sudokus like it was my mother fucking job.
My cunt throbbed from being pounded. I loved that feeling. Laying on my belly with my body soaking in the memory. I spread my legs, let the air conditioning hit me, and went back to searching for a place to put all my threes.