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“The dilettante.”
“How impressive,” Martine replied sarcastically. “And did he fuck you?” She continued to finger herself. Wearing Tessa’s silk wrapper open down the front, not one important piece of her body was hidden from view.
“No, he didn’t fuck me,” Tessa answered.
Martine smiled thinking she remained in control of Tessa’s affections. “Your eyes are glassy,” she observed, “he must have turned you on.”
Tessa shrugged, she didn’t want to talk about Miles with Martine.
“Oh, but you’re hot for him,” the women’s voice deepened, its husky tones more lecherous that usual. “Fuck me,” she said, pulling Tessa toward her, urging her to drop between her legs where her naked cunt was juicy and ready to be sucked.
Tessa fell against Martine’s soft brown thighs, and began to lap at her pussy instinctively, as she had a hundred times before. It was a habit, a pleasant one; though this time, her mind was not yet in her lover’s sexual space.
“Ah, yes, that’s it, little bitch,” Martine purred, while her long nails clawed through Tessa’s hair and her thighs flexed around Tessa’s head.
Making the familiar journey into the folds and recesses of Martine’s deep purple cunt, Tessa began to wonder if this wasn’t to her advantage. It was, after all, a place to put the raging sexual needs, which had been left so unsatisfied at Miles Bryce’s home.
Her mouth surrounded the hard bud of Martine’s clit, as her brash friend demanded attention with her typical insistent furor. Tessa sucked until the bud was harder yet, and Martine was lying back screaming. “Ahhh, ah yes, do that!” Then, while Tessa’s tongue flicked at the nasty throbbing head, two, then three, then four fingers prodded their way down her vagina, the randy cunt opening, so like Tessa’s cunt had opened just an hour before. Tessa fucked her hard with her hand as she watched the woman’s sweating body spasm then shudder softly.
“More, more, yes, yes,” Martine screamed at her. AH! Ah yes. . . . . “ She was a maniac in the middle of orgasm. Tessa clawed at her behind, scratching the skin with her nails. In her own way, Martine loved pain almost as much as Tessa did. But it wasn’t something she submitted to, it was something that came on spontaneously. When the last vigorous pulse died away, Tessa withdrew her hand and Martine collapsed back into the corner of the couch with Tessa falling against her.
“You want your cunt eaten?” Martine asked as she stroked her lover’s disheveled hair.
“No, just touch me,” she replied and the two remained together in a silent tableau for some minutes.
“How was the party?” Martine asked, finally pulling herself upright. Taking her long brown hair in hand, she pulled it into a pony tail and wound it on top of her head in a bun. Tessa’s petite dark-skinned roommate was the lover that sufficed
in the lazy mornings, and the lonely evenings, when neither were with men. They fucked when the mood was right. And though it wasn’t right for Tessa this time; she had little will to resist something so familiar and simple. She was used to surrendering to Martine. But despite the throbbing between her legs, it was thoughts of Miles that preoccupied her mind.
“He wants me,” she finally told the woman.
“Who?” Martine asked.
“Miles.”
“Wants you how?” she queried.
“Sexually.” Tessa answered. “He’s a Dom.”
“And you’re a passive little submissive, so what’s the problem?”
Tessa didn’t answer, except for the sly smirk appearing on her face; and Martine knew all she needed to know.
Chapter Three
They met again in the downtown café where Miles had watched Tessa dance.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked.
“Your message was on my machine,” Miles said, as he sat down beside her. “I assume you’ve made your decision.”
“I suppose I have,” she visibly gulped, then bit her lip before qualifying her reply, “I mean…” Her nervous hesitation was beautiful in his eye. “I can’t keep you out of my thoughts. I can’t let your proposal slide, and I certainly can’t stay away from you.”
Miles smiled, hardly hiding his triumph, though his eyes quickly narrowed. “That’s good. But just so things are clear, if you begin now, don’t expect to change your mind.”
“Why would I change my mind?” she asked, her delicate eyes shining at him wickedly. She was too easy won—willing, ready, expectant. Of course, she hadn’t been tested—and only then would he know for sure.
“The man in the corner?” Miles nodded to a classic though youthful version of pinstripe executive, who was nursing a glass of scotch—alone and watchful.
