Written by @LipGlossMaffia
DISCLAIMER: This fictional piece is about lesbian sex. If this isn’t your “thing”, please exit this page but do browse through other posts. I wouldn’t want to lose you completely. (I want you to read this though, it’s really interesting!)
“Please, please, pleeeeeease? You know it’ll be fun. It’s been weeks since we went out, and you owe me one after the Henry incident last month,” Sarah whined.
“Very funny, but miscreant is more apt a nickname,” I countered. “Light skin and muscles do not make a sex god. You know I regretted going home with him, so doesn’t that count for something?”
She laughed but didn’t relent. “Then don’t do something else you’ll regret, like turning down an awesome evening with Yours Truly. Come on. I’m going whether you join me or not. Don’t make me go dancing alone, Amyn,” she pleaded with a sad puppy voice.
She always knew just what to say to guilt me into anything. There was no way I would let her go clubbing by herself. She knew how protective I got when she was involved in the mix. I sighed into the phone and thought, Dammit, I’m going out, aren’t I? She knew she had me. She squealed with delight and barked, “Sexiest dress! You’ve got twenty minutes!” Click. I swore under my breath. No talking her out of it now.
It was Saturday night, our usual night to get wild. We’d made it a tradition since uni. Almost every weekend we hit the town and hit it hard. She was right, of course. I knew I’d have a good time, because we always did. But tonight I was having difficulty mustering the willpower to peel myself off the couch. As pathetic as it was, I was looking forward to a lazy night at home in my pajamas, Pringles in hand and the Expendables marathon on DVD. Yippee Ki-yay. I grunted and slowly, resentfully, got up. Jason Straham would have to wait.
I dragged myself to my wardrobe and changed into a lacy black pushup bra, black thong, and a gray, bell sleeve Jersey dress that revealed plenty of cleavage and even more thigh. I slid on my favorite pair of black, booties, donned a few pieces of trendy jewelry, and stood in front of the mirror. I can do this, I thought. I checked the time. She’ll be barging through the door in ten, I thought. Just enough time to tame the mane. I plugged in my straightener, spritzed in some leave-in protectant and coconut oil, and went to work, turning the frizzy black mess on my head into long, straight, shiny locks that flirted with my lower back. I did a final check, took a deep breath, and smiled at my reflection just as Sarah Komolafe came careening through my apartment door and into my bedroom.
“That is NOT your sexiest dress,” she said, plopping down on my bed. She was wearing her usual club attire — an incredibly short, skin-tight number in a geometric pattern. Her curly, shoulder length weave bobbed around her face, making her look like a busty Marilyn Monroe.
“Oh come on, you don’t think this one screams, ‘Fuck me’?” I asked as I spun for her. She studied me for a minute, then replied, “Actually, it’s pretty smoking. It shows just enough skin to leave them panting. Makes you look more like a sultry vixen than the total slut I know you to be. You might be on to something, Amyn.”
I laughed. “Good, because the real message here is, ‘I’d rather be in my pajamas.’”
She scowled at me, grabbed my hand, and headed for the door, exclaiming, “Let’s go, hotness. Lagos is waiting!”
We took an Über cab to the island and talked and laughed the whole way, as was typical for us. God, I loved her. She was my oldest friend in the world, and we could probably make a funeral fun as long as we were together. By the time we got to the club, Sarah had worked her magic on me and I was ready to hit the dance floor. We sprinted out the car door and through the frigid Harmattan air, saying hi to the doorman as he let us in. We were regulars, and we knew most of the staff by now. Of all the clubs on the island, we came here the most. It reeked of cigarette smoke, but the music was good, the bartenders were generous, and it was a members only nightclub.
It was early yet, but there were already a dozen or so people dancing and twice as many standing around or shooting pool. We made a beeline for the bar and ordered the first round. “To us!” Sarah toasted, yelling into my ear over the pumping Afro-Pop. We each downed an icy cold vodka shot and started working on our beer chasers. Bottles in hand, we sashayed our way to the dance floor. Before long, the alcohol took effect and we lost ourselves in the pounding rhythm. Our surroundings disappeared. The world didn’t matter. Time lost all meaning. It was just us and the music. Every now and then, we’d catch one another’s eye and smile. This was our element, no doubt about it.
The club got more crowded, and we began dancing with strangers, as we usually did. It was nothing for us to get down and dirty with some random guy. We both loved to flirt and tease, even with the grabby ones. At times we would dance against each other, our hands traveling along one another’s bodies. Sarah was as straight as they come, but the guys didn’t have to know that, and we both got off on knowing people were watching.
On our third round of drinks, I noticed a dark-skinned guy watching us from a table just off the dance floor. I moved closer to Sarah and put my arm around her waist as we danced. She was watching him too, and she knew exactly what I was doing and went along with it, nuzzling into me and winking at him. He polished off his beer, sat the empty bottle on the table, and glided over to us, his gaze never leaving us. We allowed him to slide between us, our thighs brushing against his, our hands exploring his hard abs through his t-shirt. With Sarah to his right and me to his left, we moved and gyrated as one. This guy could dance. Really dance. And I was getting so turned on.
Sarah pressed her body into him, circling her hips in time with the music. I turned around, pressing my ass into his pelvis as his hand snaked down my side, brushed against my breast, and settled across my stomach. I could feel his erection straining against his jeans, and it made me wild. Soon his hand crept lower on my frame, easing into dangerous territory. I moaned and slowly turned to face him again, his hand never leaving my body. He pressed his palms into our lower backs, pushing our bodies against him. I could feel the wetness building between my legs. Dancing always turned me on, but dancing like this, with my best friend and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy, was sending my libido into overdrive. I could tell they were both feeling the same.
His hand slid south and flirted with my ass, nearly exposing my thong to the room. In that moment I wouldn’t have cared. My eyes burned into his, and he got bold and leaned down to kiss me. Our mouths locked, and we hungrily tasted each other for a moment before he broke the kiss and shifted his focus to Sarah. I watched them make out, biting my lower lip. Christ, that’s hot, I thought. After a few moments he pulled away and put his hands on our heads to coax us to kiss each other. Sarah and I made eye contact and froze, then the mood was instantly broken and we started laughing. No way was that happening. If it were with anyone else, there’s no way in hell that I would’ve turned down a steamy threesome. But this was my best friend, the sister I never had. Even if she weren’t hopelessly straight, I couldn’t do it. Not with her.
I glanced up at our dance partner, who looked noticeably deflated. No doubt he was ready to take us both home. I gave him an apologetic look and smiled at Sarah. The sexual tension momentarily broken, I decided to take the opportunity to disengage before I did something stupid. I could tell Sarah was seriously into him, and I couldn’t go further if I felt like I was stealing him from her. Although I was going to hate to miss the opportunity to find out how this one’s dancing skills translated in the bedroom, I knew she’d share all the steamy details with me. I put my hand on her arm and gestured that I was going to move further into the crowd. She smiled and nodded in a mixture of excitement and gratitude, and I stepped back and turned to head to the bar for some water. As I walked away, I took a deep breath and tried to cool off. I smiled to myself and shook my head. Damn, that was hot.
The bartender approached me. As he poured me a water, he smiled and said, “Quite a show you two are putting on tonight. I thought I was gonna have to call the fire people. I could feel the walls starting to melt in here.”
I chuckled. “Julian, keep quiet. You’re just jealous because he got to touch Sarah like you’ve always dreamed of.”
He handed me my drink, raised an eyebrow, cocked his head to the side, and replied, “He He he. One day. You never know.”
I grinned and gestured toward Sarah, still wrapped around her new plaything. “No way. ”
He laughed. I raised my drink to him in thanks, blew him a kiss, and turned to head back to the dance floor, holding the cool, wet cup against my face. I then gulped down the water, poured a few ice cubes into my hand, and tossed the cup in the trash. I rubbed the ice across my neck, reveling in the cool trickle down my back and between my breasts. I was absolutely lascivious and desperately needed to center myself again.
I disappeared into the crowd and quickly lost myself in the music once more. I could feel the bass right down to my core as I swayed, bounced, and gyrated. This was my church, my release, my haven. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the bliss, dancing harder, singing along with the songs I knew. I felt hands and bodies brushing against me, moving with me, as the crowd danced as one. But I kept my eyes closed, content to disconnect for a little while. When I opened them again, I found myself staring straight into the most gorgeous honey brown eyes I’d ever seen.
I gasped. She was intoxicating — a beauty with smooth, chocolate skin, a slender waist, round and perky breasts, and long, dark box braids hung just below her bum. Her shiny black dress hugged every curve, draping low over her perfect breasts and caressing her upper thighs. A smile played on her luscious, full lips, and those haunting eyes were drinking me in. I wondered how long she’d been dancing there. I smiled playfully and watched her as we moved. She oozed seduction and mystery, and I instantly wanted her. I moved a step closer. My right leg brushed against hers. I could swear I saw lust in her eyes, but I couldn’t be sure if it was just wishful thinking on my part. She responded with a step of her own, bringing us so close that our thighs touched. I moaned under my breath, knowing full well that nobody, not even she, could hear it over the music.
We began to sway together, and I gauged her carefully, trying desperately to get a read on her. We moved like this for what seemed like an hour, but it may have only been a song or two. I no longer had any concept of time. I was paying no attention to the music, and I lost all touch with my surroundings. There was nothing but her.
We stared into each other’s eyes, and I slowly licked my lips. She reached out and grasped my waist, pulling me even closer. I followed suit, eager to slip my hands over her hips. The slick fabric of her slinky dress slid between her hipbones and my greedy fingers, making me long to slip it off of her and remove any barriers to her warm, inviting flesh. God, I could smell her now. She could so easily be playing me, flirting with me in a coy attempt to gain more attention from the men in the bar, or perhaps to make a boyfriend jealous. But I hoped with every fiber of my being that this tantalizing creature was trying to seduce me. If so, it was working.
The music must have changed tempo, because our rhythm slowed a little. Or perhaps we were simply beginning a different kind of dance altogether. My hands began to take liberties, gliding to her supple ass and memorizing its every curve. Her gaze still penetrated mine, so intensely that I almost believed she knew my every thought. I was suddenly convinced that she knew I was putty in her hands, and that she loved it. I groped the flesh beneath my fingers a little, massaging her butt and raising the hem of that dangerous dress just a bit. She closed her eyes briefly and tilted her head back ever so slightly.
With that, I couldn’t hold back anymore. Fueled by arousal and intoxication, I made my move. I leaned forward and nuzzled her neck a bit, allowing her to feel my breath on her skin. She leaned her head back, and her grip tightened a little. My lips grazed her smooth flesh, my hands still exploring her perfect backside. I could have devoured her right then and there. My mind and heartbeat were both racing, my lust rendering me incapable of rational thought or action.
The scent of her skin, soft beneath my lips, drove me to release a moan, which I was sure she felt. Her fingertips moved higher, tracing along the underside of my breasts, as if a not-so-subtle hint that she wanted more. I was undone. My parted lips found hers, at first gently grazing them, my breath a whisper on her tongue, a plea for entry. Then, as I felt her moan, I claimed her mouth for myself, my hands moving to her face. Our tongues intertwined, eagerly tasting and exploring. We kissed gently, tenderly, but the fire between us was building every second. The kiss deepened, becoming passionate, hungry, carnal. I broke away breathlessly and rested my forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes, my hands still caressing her face. “Oh my god,” I said.
She chuckled and replied, “Yeah.” I kissed her again for a moment, then my touch trailed to her shoulders and down her arms before finding her waist again. I nuzzled into her neck once more, planting slow, lingering kisses just beneath her ear. I wanted more, so much more. And I wasn’t sober enough to hold anything back. I took a deep breath and dove in, head first.
“Please let me taste the rest of you,” I implored, nibbling on her ear. Her nails dug into my skin, and she nodded in answer. I leaned back to look at her. “Yeah?” I asked. She bit her lip and nodded again. I grinned wickedly, intertwined my fingers with hers, and began to pull her toward the bathroom.
Two girls stood by the door, impatiently waiting. Oh fuck, not a line, not now, I thought. “Anyone in the men’s?” I asked the girls.
“Yes,” one replied.
I sighed and turned, glancing apologetically at my exquisite dance partner. She smiled playfully and shrugged. Then it hit me. “I have an idea,” I said.
At the back of the bar was a separate karaoke room for private parties and slower weeknights. It was closed on Saturday nights. Heavily tinted, soundproof windows made up the top half of the walls to afford the karaoke singers a bit of privacy. A little light filtered in from the bar, but people couldn’t see into the room without pressing their faces against the glass. Neon beer signs illuminated the space even when it was unused. A stage graced the back of the room, and a dozen small, round tables dotted the space. As we approached the room, the lights were out and the door was closed. I feared it would be locked, but as I pushed on the handle, it opened easily.
We ducked inside, and as the door closed behind my mysterious vixen, I pinned her against it and began kissing her passionately again, pressing myself against her, my hands greedily reaching for her waist. She threw her arms around my neck, her fingers in my hair. Her right leg curled around my thigh as our tongues hungrily probed and explored. My hand trailed down her waist to her thigh, pulling her leg higher, as I pressed my pelvis into hers. She moaned into my mouth and wrapped her leg tighter around me as my palm slid back up her thigh and beneath her dress to cup her bare behind.
Oh my god, I thought, is she wearing a thong or going commando? I explored higher, finding a thin string clinging to her hips. The find pushed my lust into overdrive. I broke the kiss and began to descend, leaving a trail of deep kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and between her breasts. My hands left her hips and danced across her cleavage, easily pushing the slinky, draping fabric off her perfect breasts, which were bare beneath her dress. I cupped and caressed them for a moment, my eyes drinking them in. I rolled her hardening nipples between my fingers, then enveloped one breast with my mouth, sucking and teasing her sensitive areola. She held my head in place and moaned. I responded with a moan of my own, absolutely enamored of her body. My tongue flicked, my teeth grazed, and my lips sucked, then I moved to the other breast, unwilling to neglect it. Every noise she made inspired a similar response from me. Soon she was too worked up for foreplay, and she pushed down on my head, showing me where she wanted me to go.
I fell to my knees and hooked my fingers into her panties, slowly sliding them down her thighs, studying her impassioned expression. She licked her lips in anticipation. In a moment, her lacy black g-string was around her ankles, and she gracefully stepped out of it. I picked up the sliver of fabric. It was soaked in her arousal. My pussy clenched. “Ooohh, babe, you’re so wet for me,” I purred.
“You’ve no idea,” she responded, her accent foreign but not one I recognized. So much mystery to this woman. I was even more intrigued. I wanted to know everything about her. But this was not the time for conversation. I craved her, hungered for her, absolutely had to taste her. And I wasn’t about to squander this opportunity.
I slowly kissed and licked my way up her left thigh, my hands trailing up her soft, brown legs and lifting her dress to expose an exquisite, bald pussy. I sat back and admired the view for a moment, groaning a little and biting my lip as she spread her legs for me and took hold of her dress to keep it out of my way. I looked up at her and caught the breathless anticipation on her face. I smiled and gently ran my middle finger through her soft folds, feeling her incredible warmth and wetness. She gasped and closed her eyes at the contact. I sucked her taste off my finger with a moan, gazing into her eyes. “Delicious,” I said when my finger was clean. I could almost hear her heart pounding in her chest as I reached out again and cupped her pussy, gliding my fingers between her folds. She writhed and moaned a bit as I touched her, pushing herself against my hand. I slowly moved up and down her slick slit, massaging her. I allowed two fingers to slide into her opening, ever so slowly, as my thumb began encircling her clit. Her walls clenched around my fingers, and I moaned. She was so wet, so ready, so perfect. My fingers began to massage her G-spot, and she grabbed onto the door handle beside her as a whimpering “Oh” escaped her lips. This was heaven. But I still wanted more.
I leaned forward and enveloped her pussy with my mouth, savoring her taste, memorizing every texture with my tongue. “Oh yes,” she whispered. As my agile fingers continued to press and stroke against her inner pleasure center, I hungrily lapped and sucked her clit and labia. She grabbed my head with both hands, holding me to her, mussing my hair as she moaned and mewled, each response bringing me closer to my own orgasm. I gazed up at her. Her eyes were closed, her head slightly tilted back, resting against the door. Her breasts rose and fell swiftly as quickened breaths and erotic sounds passed her parted lips. She was a goddess in the throes of ecstasy.
I took my time, drank her in, relished her with all five senses. My tongue danced across her button, and my lips pressed, sucked, and massaged against her mound, surrounding her swollen clit on all sides. My hand was slick with her juices as my fingers continued their work, stroking against her G-spot, gradually increasing my speed until I was downright fucking her. Before long, her thighs began to tremble, and she pushed her pussy harder into my mouth, grinding against me. Her moans became cries of, “Oh god…oh god…oh my god.” She was so close, her vocalizations so exquisite to my ears. I moaned almost in rhythm with her. My clit throbbed, aching for contact, and I felt my wetness drip down my thigh. I wasn’t ready for this bliss to end, but I was still all too eager for her orgasm. I wanted every drop of her release, every quake, every shudder, every sound.
“Oh god, oh god, I’m cumming,” she cried, her accent rich on her tongue. Her nails dug into my scalp, and she tensed as the waves began. I immediately slowed my rhythm, moaning as I rode her crescendo. Her walls milked my fingers as her heavenly juices began to stream onto my hand. I massaged her clit with the flat of my tongue ¤and steadied myself there, helping to keep her orgasm as intense as possible until it was over. As soon as the waves died down, I slowly pulled my fingers out of her and dipped my tongue through her folds and into her opening, greedy for every last drop. She gasped, still holding tightly to my head. She was so sensitive now. I carefully caressed her with my mouth, drinking in her essence. Then I sat back, licking my fingers.
“Damn, you taste so good,” I said as I gazed up at her.
“Let me taste,” she purred, releasing my hair. I stood and offered her my fingers. As she stared lustfully into my eyes, she took my middle finger into her mouth as if she were giving the most amazing blowjob. It was almost enough to give me penis envy.
“Mmmm, you’re right,” she moaned, slowly releasing my finger and going for another one. She cleaned it off, never breaking eye contact, then crooned, “I wonder if you taste just as good.”
“Why don’t you find out?” I asked with a mischievous grin. I leaned forward and kissed her passionately, wrapping my arms around her neck. She slid one hand around my waist and reached between my legs with the other. She moaned when she felt my soaked thong. She didn’t hesitate to push it aside, her fingers hastily diving into my wetness. I cried out into her mouth, so needy for an orgasm after my prolonged, intense state of arousal.
I loved her urgency. It made me want to pull her to the floor and fuck her all over again. Her long, slender fingers slid into my opening, and her palm rubbed against my clit. I unconsciously raised my leg and rested my foot against the door behind her to give her easier access. I pressed my body against hers, feeling the curves of her round breasts and pert nipples through my clothing. I wanted so much to be naked, aching for every possible square inch of skin-on-skin contact. She pressed her fingers further into my dripping cunt and increased her speed, rubbing hard against my clit. I broke our kiss, arched my body, and tilted my head back, crying out, “Oh my god…yes…fuck!” My moans were getting loud, and I was edging already, completely at the mercy of her nimble fingers. I steadied myself as best I could, feeling my thighs begin to tremble. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I cried.
“Yes, cum for me,” she responded, that sultry accent peeking through. “I want your orgasm.” With one final cry, I descended into orgasmic bliss. Wave after wave milked her fingers, and I held her as she continued to stroke my pussy. “Wow,” she breathed. “That felt exquisite.”
I chuckled breathlessly. “Oh, I promise you, it felt better on my end,” I said, trying to collect myself. She slowly moved her hand through my slit a final time before raising her fingers to her lips. She sucked them clean and moaned, slowly drawing them out of her mouth.
“Mmmm, you taste wonderful,” she said.
I captured her mouth with mine again, tasting myself on her tongue. I began to wonder if she’d agree to come home with me, then I realized I didn’t even know her name. Then my phone started to vibrate and play my favourite Ed Sheeran song, startling me and jerking me out of my thoughts. I contemplated ignoring it, then she broke the kiss.
“Shouldn’t you get that?” she asked. I sighed, reached into a zippered compartment on my right boot, and pulled out the device, checking the name on the caller ID. It was Sarah. I stepped back and slid my finger across the screen to answer.
“Kinda busy,” I said. I eyed my companion and watched her fix and straighten her dress. Dammit, I thought. Fun’s over.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Where did you go?” Sarah yelled over the music.
“I’m kind of in the middle of something. What’s up?” I asked.
“Oooooh, I want details later!” She answered, knowing me all too well. My companion clearly heard that and smiled awkwardly.
“I’m going home with Abdul. Is that okay?” she asked.
“Of course, babe. Have fun,” I replied. She squealed into the phone and hung up. I chuckled, half embarrassed and half amused by my friend.
“I should go,” the vixen said.
“Wait,” I implored. I stepped up to her and touched her chin, tenderly kissing her lips. Then I gazed at her and asked, “Will you stay? Or better yet, come back to my place for a while?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry,” she answered.
Dejected, I sighed and gave her a half smile, stepping back to give her a little space. “Okay, fair enough. But at least tell me your name,” I said.
She laughed and replied, “It’s Didi.”
“I’m Amyn,” I said. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Nigerian, based in Portugal,” she replied. “I’m here for a few weeks on business.”
“Wow,” I said. “What are the odds I’ll see you again?”
She smiled. “I don’t know, but I really enjoyed this,” she said. “Thank you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” I replied.
She stepped back and turned, opening the door. Just like that, she was gone. I took a deep breath to compose myself, then spied her thong on the floor. I picked it up and whistled, contemplating using this as an excuse to go after her. But I decided against it, thinking it might embarrass her or give her plenty of unwanted attention if I handed her her underwear in a crowded bar, even if I tried to do so discreetly. Then a selfish thought crossed my mind, and I tucked the delicate lingerie into my booties. In the morning, bleary eyed and hung over, it would be nice to have concrete proof that this wasn’t a steamy dream. I closed my eyes, took a few more deep breaths for good measure, then opened the door and headed back into the bar, a tiny, wicked smile on my face. I made my way through the crowd and into the brisk night air. I looked around for Didi, but she was gone. Hottest ninja on the planet, I thought. Or maybe she’s an undercover journalist, uncovering the secrets of the Nigerian club scene. I chuckled to myself and spotted a taxi across the street. As I climbed in and the cab headed for my apartment, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the seat, still tasting her on my tongue.
The week flew by. Business was booming at Maffia House Inc, the creative content agency where I worked as a Content Developer. Our new clients gave me three new briefs with short deadlines, so I found myself staying late all week. I didn’t mind. I loved the work. But I couldn’t help feeling distracted. She – her gorgeous eyes, her soft skin, her intoxicating scent – kept invading my thoughts. I saw her curves in my work. I saw her eyes in the colors of the landscape on my morning commute. I longed to taste her again.
Saturday rolled back around, and Sarah had a date with Abdul, the dark-skinned guy we met the weekend before. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other since that night. Sarah’s descriptions of their scorching sexcapades made me a little disappointed that I missed out on him. But I was too happy for her to be jealous. Unfortunately, this meant no clubbing for her. Normally I wouldn’t mind a break in the action, especially since I found myself back at the office that day, polishing up a project. But as the sun went down, all I could think of was the possibility of running into Didi again. I had to go back to the club, even if it meant going alone.
I called a few friends and threw together a last-minute girls’ night. It took me way too long to get ready. I found myself trying on half my closet before settling on a dangerously low-cut blue dress with a hi-low hem. I spent extra time on my hair and makeup and made sure I looked perfect before heading out. Five of us met for dinner, had a few drinks and lot of laughs, and headed to the club. When we arrived, I spied Julian behind the bar and made a beeline for him.
“Amyn! I was hoping you’d show. I’m dying to know what the hell happened between you and that girl. I saw you!,” he said excitedly.
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” I teased. “Have you seen her tonight?”
“Not yet, but things just got cranking,” he answered. “Hoping for a repeat performance?”
I grinned and answered, “Maybe.”
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