men do. Guys eat pussy—and lots of it. They suck on tits like they want to make a woman come that way.
I turn on the television, making sure the volume is low, then insert the DVD into the machine. As I make my way back to the bed, my clit starts to pulse, anticipating what it’s going to experience.
Using the remote, I fast forward until I find a scene that will get me off. It’s an up-close view of a vagina and the man’s mouth that is all over it. The angle allows me to see every explicit detail.
I push my nightshirt up and my panties down, slip two fingers between my folds and settle them on my clit. But I don’t start stroking myself—not yet. I want to enjoy the graphic visual, the way a woman enjoys the build up of foreplay.
So with my free hand I begin playing with a nipple, pulling it and tweaking it until it is fully aroused. Waves of carnal pleasure sweep through me. My eyes are glued to the television, taking in every delicious moment of that hungry mouth devouring pussy.
And when the man pulls the woman’s folds apart, completely exposing her clitoris, I start to stroke my pussy in earnest. The man flicks the tip of his tongue over her again and again, until the woman starts to cry out. As she does, the man completely draws her nub into his mouth and sucks on it.
My heart rate picks up speed—and so do my fingers. I rub them over my clit in a circular motion, creating delicious heat. Now I am the woman onscreen. Her pleasure is my pleasure.
My lover pulls my clit deep into his mouth and suckles on my clit. The sounds of pleasure he makes excites my entire body. I’m breathless as he stops sucking on my clit and runs his tongue along my opening. The next instant, he slips two fingers inside, pulls them out and licks them, then moans happily and plunges his tongue into my vagina. Fuck, that’s so hot.
As the man’s tongue goes deep into the woman’s pussy, I insert two fingers into my own.
It’s wet, and warm. I stretch my fingers inside, but it doesn’t reach where I need to be touched. On the screen, the woman is screaming with the onset of her release. The man is fingering her now while sucking on her clit. After a moment, the man moves his body upward and starts to deep throat the woman—not what I want to see.
With one hand I grip the remote and rewind the scene, while with the other I grab the vibrator. It’s shaped like a massive black cock, and for now, it is my lover.
“Eat that pussy,” I say softly as I ease the cock inside of me. I don’t turn it on. Not yet. For now, I enjoy every sensation this life-like cock brings me.
My pussy throbs out of control as I watch the way the man suckles on the exposed clitoris. Fuck, that guy knows how to go down on a woman.
“Eat that pussy…” I plunge the cock inside me, gasp as I wiggle it around. My God, that feels amazing. With my free hand, I play with my pussy, massage my nub until I have to bite down on my bottom lip to suppress my moans.
I continue to thrust the cock in and out, in and out. It’s large, and fills me completely.
“Yes, baby…” I murmur, stroking my engorged nub. “Fuck, yeah…”
The woman on the television screen screams when she starts to orgasm, and I watch. Watch the guy draw the clitoris fully into his mouth as she writhes in ecstasy. Watch him thrust his fingers in and out of her pussy as he continues to eat her.
And then my body jerks, a sudden orgasm gripping me with its sharp talons. The walls of my vagina close around the cock, pulsate against it as my body explodes.
For the next minute or so, I simply lie there, my body spent from my release. The sound of my heavy breathing mixes with the faint sound of fucking emanating from the TV. I reach for the remote and turn the movie off.
Then I pull out the vibrator, head off the bed and go to my bathroom to clean up.
When I’m back under my covers, I snuggle against my pillow and try to summon some of the warmth I felt during my orgasm.
I can’t.
Later that morning, after I eat breakfast alone in my kitchen, I decide that I must get out of the house. First, I call Annelise, but she doesn’t answer, so I call another friend, Risha. We’re not extremely close, but occasionally go to the spa or hair salon together where we can spend a few hours gossiping.
Risha is home, and we make plans to meet an hour later at the spa we frequent downtown. I tell her I’ll call the spa to schedule pedicures, and that she’ll hear from me only if we can’t get an appointment.
An hour later, Risha is heading to the building’s steps as I park in an available spot on the street. I toot the horn, and she glances over her shoulder. When she sees me, she smiles and waves.
I finish parking and get out of the car. Risha rushes toward me, her arms outspread.
We hug, air kiss.
“Wow, Claudia. You look amazing.”
“I do?”
“Yes. Really amazing. Your hair—you put auburn highlights?”
“Subtle highlights. I was tired of the jet black.”
“Well, seeing how happy you look, no one would know you so recently broke up with the love of your life.”
It’s exactly that kind of comment that irks me where Risha’s concerned, and one of the reasons I’ll never consider her a close friend. She simply doesn’t get me.
I don’t worry about it, because she fulfills a purpose in my life. I never have to go to the spa, or shopping for designer clothes, alone.
Risha opens the spa’s heavy door, then gestures for me to enter. “After you.”
I walk in. The hostess at the front greets me with a warm smile. “Hello, Ms. Fisher, Ms. Taylor.”
“Hello,” Risha and I say in unison.
“You can come right this way.”
The long-haired brunette leads us around the corner and to the back of the salon, where the pedicure tables are set up. I recognize Alice and Bree, the women who will give us our pedicures, as they’ve worked on us before.
Alice, who’s working with me today, instructs me to take my sandals off and slip my feet into the warm, bubbling water. I do, and beside me, Risha does the same.
“How’s Ryan?” I ask Risha.
“He’s great,” Risha answers. “Passed the Bar, and he’s interviewing with a few firms in Atlanta. Also some in New York.”
“So he might be moving?”
“We might be moving.”
“He popped the question?” I ask excitedly, my eyes already searching for the rock on her left hand I must have somehow missed.
“No, not yet. But once he accepts a position with a firm, I’m sure he will.”
“Right.” I nod, hoping for Risha’s sake that Ryan is planning exactly that. That he doesn’t turn out to be another Adam.
I glance at Alice, an attractive and plump woman in her mid-forties, who is scrubbing my feet. She grins at me like buffing people’s feet is what she’s happiest doing. I don’t believe it is, though. I mean, it can’t be. I wonder if she’s aspired to greater things in her life, and why she settled on this career path.
The sound of voices has me turning to my left to see who is about to join us in this portion of the salon.
And that’s when my stomach takes a nosedive.
Hell, no! What’s that bitch doing here?
“Who?”
Risha’s question lets me know I voiced my thought out loud.
“Ah, Arlene…” Risha nods in Arlene Nash’s direction,