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And as dramatically as any movie scene might have been, Carlotta slowly slid off Ciao, who was still writhing and clutching at herself, and like a panther crawled back to Miguel. As she got closer, she looked approvingly at him. She nodded her head. “I see you’re ready. I didn’t even have to tell you what to do with those pants. You are a good boy, aren’t you?”
The personality of this Carlotta was unfamiliar to Miguel. She was usually lusty, aggressive, and nasty. Now she was spontaneously calm, eerily in control. Miguel was nervous. While they’d often fantasized about the various ways they would engage in threesomes, Carlotta always contended that she could not see herself being comfortable in one.
“Perhaps if I didn’t have to know the woman, and she could do me. But I’m not about to do anything to another woman.” The thought of another woman performing on Miguel while she watched was a little more intriguing. But regardless, it was usually just talk. Until now, when he sat across from another woman, a woman whom his woman had just brought to the edge of a climax and was sitting there wanting more, but knew she would have to wait and observe someone else being brought to a climax first.
Miguel felt Carlotta’s mouth kiss his ankle, first the right one, then the left one. While her mouth slowly traveled up the inside of each muscular calf, her hands performed a deep massage on his bare thighs…her thighs. She could feel the muscles in his well-developed thighs start to tense. It was his body’s way of letting her know she was turning him on. He loved her warm hands. The more she kneaded his flesh, the more he responded with low groans and muscle spasms of pleasure. It was just starting.
“Mmm, you like this don’t you, baby?” she whispered to him as she made her way up between his thighs. Her lips kissed and licked almost every inch of his torso. She teased the area under his balls. While she gently licked and sucked at each firm nut, she began to moan also. At the same time, Miguel was having trouble deciding whether he should instead focus his attention on Ciao, who had inserted three fingers deep into her own sopping wet hole while her other hand manipulated her pointed nipple.
The room seemed to be swirling with lust. As Carlotta was about to surround Miguel’s dick with her wet mouth, she placed both hands on his chest. Her nails sank deep into his skin, and as she began to suck him, she got so excited she started jerking her hips and rotating her ass. It was an orgy of sounds, images, and movements. Miguel’s dick was as hard as it had ever been as he took Carlotta’s head between his hands and forced her mouth farther onto his cock. She obliged by opening her mouth even wider, nearly gagging on this pulsating, vibrating monster deep in her throat.
She’d been wanting this all evening and now she had what she wanted. If she could, she would have consumed the entire thing, but the head of his dick was so fat and delicious, she became fixated on letting her tongue create ice cream-like swirls of saliva around it. Finally the taste of it, coupled with the intense passion of the moment, caused her to plunge her mouth all the way down, gag on it, come back up to admire her handiwork, and repeat the process until the hairs in his crotch, her face, and the soft fabric of the couch were all soaking wet.
There were no words spoken, even when Ciao, who could no longer function as an observer, made her way over to the two lovers. At first she simply sat next to them intently watching as Carlotta maintained her fierce assault on Miguel’s cock. Then she replaced Miguel’s hand around Carlotta’s head with her own, furiously forcing Miguel’s turgid rod down Carlotta’s throat. Miguel had never seen his dick so wet in all the years he’d been with Carlotta. Ciao was so taken by the exhibition she couldn’t help but join in.
“You are so messy, Carlotta!” she exclaimed. “Here, let me help you clean this up.”
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All of a sudden, Carlotta took Miguel out of her mouth and shook her head from Ciao’s grip, took Ciao’s head, and forced it down on Miguel.
The sight of this beautiful Brazilian woman’s mouth virtually impaled on his love stick drove Miguel almost to the brink of orgasm. If that weren’t enough, the sight of his lover’s mouth covered with saliva, making it look as if she’d taken two huge loads of cum, did the trick. Carlotta rushed to swap her juices with Miguel. At that exact moment Miguel’s hips jerked and bucked. He was on the brink of an earth-shaking orgasm. Carlotta knew it and quickly joined Ciao down on him.
He grabbed both women’s heads in time to shoot his load. He watched in awe as both women took all of his cum. It was if they were battling to see who could get the most: two beautiful women drinking his cum and eventually swapping it between them. It was too much and he collapsed. He lapsed into an orgasmic stupor and with his eyes closed all he could do was feel both mouths running all over him. He was too weak to tell them to stop. They wouldn’t have listened anyway.
Zane Last
I Have Treats for You Tonight
I was so excited. I’d barely gotten through the day at my office. Who cares about crunching numbers for less-than-appreciative clients anyway? I’d made a serious mistake by accepting the job offer from Frasier and Meridian straight out of college. It was time for a change and I planned to make a career move before 2001 rolled around.
First things first, though. I was anxious to get home to my baby. Errin and I were celebrating our fifth anniversary and it was a big day. When I first “came out” to my parents, expressing my undying love for Errin over Thanksgiving dinner, they’d given me less than a year to go back to men.
Truth be known, I never liked men. I just dated boys in high school and men in college because it was expected. Yet, I can still recall the way I used to fantasize about Lorraine, a sister I attended high school with who rarely gave me the time of day. She was gorgeous and had a body that could stop traffic. Unfortunately she was strictly dickly and I didn’t stand a chance.
My reluctance to admit my sexual orientation continued well into my college years. That is, until I met Errin. She was completely open about being a lesbian. In fact, she was the president of the African-American Lesbian Association on campus. I met her at a rally on campus. All of the African-American students were protesting the treatment and lack of tenures offered to the few African-American professors on campus.
I’ll never forget how cold it was that day. It was the second week of January and everyone had just returned from winter break. I wasn’t looking forward to the second semester of my junior year because I had to take Statistics with Professor Isiah Kramer. He was infamous for flunking people and ruining their academic careers if they weren’t willing to bend over backward to appease him.
Despite the weather, the courtyard in front of the student union was packed. People were crammed into the space shoulder to shoulder. There was a makeshift stage on the front steps and various students were taking turns yelling into a bull horn. Errin had a tough act to follow as she took her place in front of the rowdy crowd. A militant brother from Queens had just finished delivering a powerful speech entitled “Get a Grip” and half the crowd was chanting it by the time he was finished.
Errin didn’t seem the least bit nervous, though. She was quite endearing as she spoke on behalf of the African-American Lesbian Association. I had heard of them but lacked the nerve to actually attend the meetings I’d seen announced on flyers posted around campus. I was still dealing with my overprotective parents who thought my life belonged to them. My mother, especially, felt that I was her chance to live again and make restitution for all the things she never got a chance to do after she’d unexpectedly turned up pregnant with me during her senior year of high school.
Both of my parents had high expectations of me, being that I’m the oldest of their three kids and the first member of the Madison family ever to attend college. I always cringed when I called home on the weekends, but kissing up to them every seven days was a requirement if I wanted my tuition paid.
It was always the same thing. “Oooh, Paige, we’re so proud of you.” “Whatever you do, don’t let your grades fall down.” “Have you met any prospective husband material on campus?”
That last question always came from my mother. She’s from the old school and believes that a woman should be on two missions at college: earning a degree and snagging a husband. Preferably, a pre-med or pre-law one. I yearned to tell her that while the degree was on my agenda, a husband wasn’t even an option.
I was standing there daydreaming about my parents and how I could break the news to them gently when Errin’s voice broke me out of my trance. It was calming, it was sensuous, it was arousing. The fact that she was attractive didn’t hurt matters any. Errin is tall, five-ten, with smooth, dark skin that reminds me of an ice cream cone hand-dipped in chocolate sauce. She has large, cat-like, sepia eyes and short auburn hair cut into a cute, easy-to-maintain style.
It had been a lonely three years at college. I dated from time to time, mostly immature fraternity brothers who freaked out when I told them I was still a virgin. Most were very polite about it, even though they still tried to get the drawers to no avail. A few of them were downright rude. One even lashed out at me and accused me of being a lesbian, like the mere words would crush me down to my very soul. Instead, I laughed in his face, not denying a thing. He still didn’t figure it out, though. Most men can’t deal with the fact that an attractive woman would rather be with one of her own sex than them.
There were quite a few of those immature brothers in attendance that day, making lewd comments while Errin made her speech. A speech that made a hell of a lot of sense and displayed a high degree of intelligence. After the rally was over, I saw Errin walking toward the undergraduate library and followed her, intending only to tell her how much I enjoyed her speech. Things turned out quite differently. We ended up having dinner at Friday’s, home of my favorite chicken and mushroom dish. The conversation was fantastic. We talked about everything from music to politics and found that we had a lot in common.
When Errin dropped me back off at my dorm, she asked the question. The one I’m sure had weighed heavily on her mind all evening.
“Paige, are you into women?” she asked me, with one of my feet already firmly placed on the curb.
