Slips Of The Tongue Ch. 01byAbraxis©
Gwen, dressed in just her charcoal sweater, knelt on Domenique's living room rug, her sweet round ass up, her smooth brown legs spread apart and her head nestled in her folded arms. She watched Domenique, still fully clothed, sitting on her chaise, sipping her spiced white wine, and roving her eyes covetously over Gwen's lovely contours. Gwen, her ass open and waiting; , a sumptuous money shot of smooth creamy brown buttocks, smiling pink anus, trimmed black mons and a narrow width of glistening pink promise, was in three quarter profile to Domenique's vantage.
Her face betrayed nothing of her desires or intentions concerning Gwen and her luminous, supple flesh. Domenique, as much a fetishist for shapely feet as she was for delectable pussy, eyed Gwen's expertly pedicured toes, smooth slopes and healthy arches. Like a painter that was in love with her subject, Domenique led her eyes along the composition of Gwen's image; from the soft pastry puff pads of her toes, up to her lusciously shining sex, down to her sly hazel eyes and lazy smile and back again to those gently sloping soles. Over and over, Domenique's eyes roved, perusing revolutions, her eyes circling and circling, her pussy pulsing, warming.
"Well," said Gwen, breaking the silence, "What are you going to do to me?"
It occurred to Domenique that she'd been enjoying the picture perfection of Gwen's position for at least fifteen minutes.
"Are you getting uncomfortable?" inquired Domenique as she reached to take another mouthful of wine.
"Oh no." Gwen purred, "Seriously? After that amazing foot rub; God, it's like you snuck something into my drink."
"Maybe I did." Domenique teased.
Gwen laughed a soft laugh; sedate and euphoric.
"Now, now," she said, "We both know there's no need for that."
They'd met over a week before, in the shoe store that Domenique managed. It was busy, but there were plenty of floor staff available. But, inspired by first sight, Domenique decided to find her way closer and closer to one particularly magnetic customer she'd spotted entering the store. Gwen, tall, tanned, bright hazel eyed and luxuriously black haired, met Domenique's gaze and smiled a warm, welcoming grin. In that instant, she realized the potential was there.
Pairs and trios of mostly female shoppers, young and old, obliviously chattered, chose shoes, milled about or test walked around Domenique and Gwen as they discussed their own trivialities.
A size eight, open toed; of course I'd be happy to help you with that. But, to start off, let's size you. Please have a seat. Those are lovely shoes you came in with. You're welcome. Oh, I see you don't have your own hosiery. No, it's not a problem. My, but you have the loveliest feet I've seen in a very long time. Of course I mean it. Where do you get them done? Seriously? You treat them yourself? I'm impressed. I'm very impressed.
"What did I tell you I am?" asked Domenique as she placed her wine on the coaster she'd placed on her end table.
"A dirty girl," replied Gwen through a wide smile, still in her odd, submissive position, "A very dirty girl."
"And what exactly does dirty mean to you?"
"Now that we've gotten the formality of testing out of the way," answered Gwen, swaying her upturned ass lazily to and fro, her smile fading into a straight line of sobriety, "Dirty; means everything to me, Domenique."
From her position on the floor, Gwen assessed her seductress, eyeing her compact yet lean frame and luminous face. She recalled the first sight of her, her deep, knowing amber eyes, her oval face, creamy olive complexion and artfully bound lustrous auburn highlighted brown hair. Gwen thought fondly on how Domenique had literally shown, like a star, between the mundane, oblivious other customers and assistants passing among them. Before Gwen realized what was happening, Domenique had begun to handle her bare feet, cradling them, subtly stroking them and taking it upon herself to fit them into each of three pairs of the most comfortable shoes she'd ever bought.
From there, the conversation deepening to a healthy shade of blue, they'd shared lunch at a nearby sub shop. Then, after night fall, Gwen had met Domenique for a second time. They strolled together along a public stretch of beach, the black night tempered by the light of a full moon and the city lights beyond the boardwalk. It was Gwen that suggested that they walk shoeless, and it was she that knelt first to remove Domenique's sandals, caring to touch them with the same gentle longing that Domenique had touched hers in the store. Not long after, slowly making their way between the lazy sea and a private, shadowy mountainous break of boulders, the women stopped to share their first kiss. Their faces remaining very close, Domenique and Gwen breathed each other in, and exchanged shy smiles before engaging in their second kiss. After the third passing of their hungry lips, their appetite slick, swollen and mutually ravenous, Gwen and Domenique agreed to slow it down. And so they did, returning to their cars and driving to the nearest theatre and buying tickets to something worth their time.
Domenique chose something loud and full of action and Gwen, bedazzled putty in her hands, agreed. Other than the cool yet brief stare of a handsome black girl seated two rows ahead, her hair beautifully braided, her eyes glimmering cat like as they reflected the colors on the screen, , no one noticed them continue their kissing, smell the further whetting of their appetites or hear their cryptic conversing over Gwen's longing for true love or the sweet nothing allusions of the dirty things Domenique wanted to do to her. The movie, guns fired, cars crashed and bombs exploded, blurred quickly to an end. From there, the budding lovers returned to the beach, sat in the sand and constructed a mutual foundation of psychological intimacies.
As the night darkened dawnward, they wanted nothing more than to ravage each other, but Gwen insisted that they play it safe. She clarified that she couldn't truly be comfortable with giving herself to a beautiful stranger until the worst possible potentiality, namely any STD, was eliminated. Ultimately, maddened with lust for her, her panties saturated with postponed gratification, Domenique robbed Gwen of her keys. Gwen's options were to either come along for a ride to an undisclosed location or remain stranded.
By three in the morning, Gwen found herself strolling with Domenique into the busy waiting room of a twenty-four hour clinic in the deepest depth of the city. A variety of victims, beaten, bitten, stabbed, burned, anxiety rattled or too drunk to stay awake, waited to be seen. Domenique winked at Gwen before they approached the in-take nurse's desk. She was pretty; tired blue eyes, red haired, healthy complexion and muscle toned. Beside the desk, sat a very, very old looking lump of a man, who was holding a bag of ice on his crotch.
"Yes ladies," said the nurse, "Which of you needs to be seen?"
"Uh, both of us." Domenique announced.
"What's the problem?" sighed the nurse, turning her gaze to her computer screen and giving her mouse a click.
"Well you see," answered Domenique, "My friend and I would really like to have amazingly dirty sex as soon as possible, but she won't let me get my mouth on her most flavorful places until we both get tested for the presence of any negative consequences of having indulged ourselves in the delicacies of others."
"How poetic." Gwen remarked.
"How responsible." The nurse intoned, raising a quizzical brow at Gwen.
"How romantic." Croaked the little old man, a lurid smile brightening his face.
"Now Mr. Sullivan," said the nurse, "You've had enough excitement for tonight. Think cool thoughts my friend."
The nurse rolled her eyes away from the old man, and looked Domenique in the eye.
"Have a seat ladies." She said, "It'll be a while."
As they waited, Domenique and Gwen riffled through magazine after magazine while clearing the air about past lovers and other risky business. Yeah, but did he wear a rubber? No. How about you; did she use a dental dam? God Gwen; who the fuck wears dental dams? Ultimately, Gwen confessed to a fair number of bad choices and regrets, as did Domenique, and they had both vowed to themselves that enough was enough. There, at nearly five in the morning, flanked by a hooker in hand cuffs and a zit faced teen-ager with a fairly large iguana attached to his finger, Domenique and Gwen promised one another that they'd would be each other's clean slate, no pretences, no games; just good clean dirty fun.
The doctor on call eventually met with Domenique and Gwen separately. In the debriefing, the two women giddily conferred that Dr. Glasscock (yes, Glasscock) had made it perfectly clear that he was from the Hampton Glasscocks and not the Worchester Glasscocks, as if they'd been aware that there had ever been of any clashing between any two Glasscocks. He, the good doctor, ultimately ordered their tests for the top menaces of sexual health: Chlamydia, gonorrhea, hepatitis B, hepatitis C, herpes I & II, HIV and syphilis. Then, a couple of cups of urine and a few vials of blood later, Domenique and Gwen were all set. However, in spite of her best efforts, Domenique had to wait five to seven days for the results.
"Well," said Gwen as the doctor disappeared down the hall, "It was still really fun though."
Domenique, her arms folded, her disappointment obvious, raised an eye brow, sighed and looked away.
"I'm sorry." Said Domenique, "I'm so dumb. I just got carried away. I get; very eager. I'm very bad that way."
"Well, I'm flattered, if it's any consolation."
Domenique turned to face Gwen. For a moment, they locked eyes. From Gwen's expression, Domenique saw sincerity, hope, patience and her anticipation of being sweetly ravaged. From Domenique's naked stare, Gwen saw the patience of a calculating predator, and the promise that she would be utterly devoured. Presently, a smile came to Domenique's lips, softening her expression.
"It is." She said, and then gave Gwen a quick peck on the cheek, "How about we go get some breakfast and then I'll take you back to your car?"
Domenique drove them to a Greek diner not two blocks from the stretch of beach where they'd begun their night. Choosing a corner booth, they sat beside each other , snuggling and kissing as each opportunity revealed itself. The waitress, a pleasant young blonde; lean, long legged, large breasted, fresh faced with a gleaming stud hanging from the side of her right eye brow,
brought them blueberry pancakes, which they'd lathered in heaps of butter and syrup. Domenique and Gwen ate lustfully, talked, laughed and talked some more. Before they knew it, strangely freshed faced and alert despite the long night, they watched a glimmering pink sun creep over the horizon. A short time later, Domenique paid the bill, and together they stopped in the ladies room. Then, just inside the door, Gwen cornered her and proceeded to kiss her deeply. In the next instant, Domenique realized that she was being dragged into the accessible stall. Once inside, Gwen locked the door behind them.
"Do you have to go?" she asked.
"Sure I do." Answered Domenique.
"Then let me watch you."
Domenique paused only scant seconds before going about undoing her slacks and dropping them, and then her musked panties, to the tiled floor. Gwen stepped out of her sandals, let Domenique take her bare beautiful feet in, and then stepped to meet her as she sat on the clean white commode. Domenique peered up into Gwen's eyes, then watched as she opened her blouse, undid the front snaps of her bra and let her soft sloped conical breasts out for Domenique to see. They were all that she'd imagined, firm, plenty to handle, pallid bronze lobes, tipped with two olive rose areolas and firm, long nipples. Then, as Gwen began to unfasten the buttons of her stone washed Lees, someone else had entered the ladies room. Realizing that the person was at the sink washing her hands, Gwen, smiling with mischief though blushing more than she had at the clinic, continued to reveal the fragrant delight of her fastidiously trimmed dark haired pussy. Domenique stared and, unable to take any more, began to spread the lips of her own pussy, lick the business fingers of her right hand and work furious circles against her rock solid clit. Gwen had begun to roll her nipples between each thumb and forefinger as Domenique eased her face close enough to Gwen's pussy in order to take in a great breath of it. The woman at the sink had finished up and initiated the blower, which was when Gwen reached her fingers past Domenique's sniffing nose to spread her own luscious lips. Then she licked her own customary culprit digits and proceeded to work her swollen nub hard and fast until her hips began to quiver with the promise of a climax. Suddenly, the blower stopped, but no creak of the ladies room door could be heard. Nearing her own orgasm, Domenique paused and tried to see if the woman had left yet. Gwen looked over her own shoulder, but turned quickly around, drew Domenique's gaze, smiled and then mouthed the words "Let's give her a show."
With that, Gwen poured it on, her circles suddenly shortened to a tight up and down sprint to the finish line, the stakes raised by the potential new spectator beyond the stall. Domenique, flushed and panting, approached her own peak, during which, in the span of three seconds, caught sight of their waitress peering through the quarter inch of clear view that happened to be between the hinged side of the stall's door and the panel it was affixed to. Domenique, suddenly slammed by a crashing wave of pleasure, sent a flood of girl come and urine into the bowl beneath her. She rode her euphoria, and then opened her eyes to see that the waitress was still watching, the precious stone stud of her brow gleaming like a beacon. Domenique then quickly redirected her gaze so that she could watch the spectacle of Gwen's contorting face, bouncing tits, rapid fire fingers and nearly spastic pelvis.
Gwen stared back, wide eyed and panting, her open mouth shaped to utter the name of her pleasure. but the sight, as it was, didn't last for very long. It was only a few more seconds before Gwen's wave of ecstasy hit her, sending her head back and squeezing her eyes shut. Then, together they languidly descended. Gwen pressed her spent body against Domenique's lips, letting her trail kisses along her belly and the upper edge of her pussy's hair. Domenique reached her hands around to Gwen's firm ass, caressed their smoothness, and then clutched them greedily. Seconds later, Gwen slowly drew herself down and squatted before Domenique who was still voiding a torrent of piss. There, their lips met once again, and they devoured each other, lapping their cool tongues and smacking each others lips with the animal love afterglow of their shared masturbation.
"The waitress," said Gwen, still swaying her naked ass slowly back and forth, "At the diner that morning? How much do you thing she saw?"
"Enough to build up a little fantasy fun for herself after her shift ended." Domenique replied, crawling from the couch to Gwen's beckoning ass.
Domenique withdrew a wipe, and went about lovingly polishing Gwen's pretty little pink asshole. She, Gwen, had thoroughly washed, lotioned, primped and dolled up before arriving at Domenique's apartment. The tests had come back negative, their mutual trust, desire and affection for each other fostered through the week, neither one revealing any fear to the other that the testing would be positive. Domenique tossed the balled up wipe to the end table, and then scooted back to once more fully savor the sight before her.
That night, their first real, anything goes, night together, began as Domenique had promised. After a fine dinner of stuffed chicken breasts, baked sweet potatoes and escarole salad splashed with fresh lemon juice, salt and olive oil, they retired to the couch to start indulging in other sumptuous delights. There, nestled in the plush cushions, Domenique had devoted nearly forty-five minutes to rubbing Gwen's beautiful feet. The act sent pulses of heat into each of their sexes, though the effect on Gwen's ardor was visibly more profound.
Domenique had literally massaged the pants right off of Gwen. Of course, the comfort Gwen took in the secured knowledge that it was safe to indulge in Domenique helped more than a little. But, ultimately, there Gwen lay, in the cradle of Domenique's parted legs, unfastening her stretch jeans, working them down until Domenique gently tugged them from one leg and then the other. Then, after a few more minutes of Domenique's expert massaging, Gwen pushed her white lace briefs down as well. For Domenique's own pleasure, she left them around Gwen's ankles for a time as she sucked her smooth round toes and watched Gwen caress her own belly, thighs, mons and dripping lips. Domenique's tongue slithered and undulated from heel to ball, toe to toe and each sloping nook in between.
"Get up," Domenique had eventually instructed, "If you're not too relaxed, and let me see you walk around the room."
Gradually, amazed at exactly how relaxed she was, Gwen got to her feet and proceeded to stroll around the room. Domenique changed her position, took occasional sips of her clove infused white wine, and followed every move Gwen made.
"Very nice." She announced, "Stop right there. Good. Now; face your back to me, drop to your hands and knees. That's right. Now rest your head on the floor. Yes, just like that. Nice; absolutely beautiful"
"Now what?" Gwen laughed, trailing fingers along her own upturned ass.
"Now; wait." Said Domenique.
There Gwen waited, relaxed, recalling their first night together, primed and ready. Domenique set the wipes aside, and then lowered her mouth to the beautifully contoured folds, ridges and pads of the bottoms of Gwen's feet and proceeded to revisit each feature from heel to toe. Then, she lapped her tongue, painting the pad of each toe thrice over, lapping each precious fold and wrinkle until she crested Gwen's heels. Next, Domenique kissed and licked the smooth contours of Gwen's lower legs and thighs, breaking the chain on occasion to sniff the fragrant musk of her waiting asshole and pussy. As such, Domenique rose slowly higher and higher, closer and closer to her dirty little indulgence.
"Mmmmm," uttered Gwen, high on her relaxation, "Are you gonna eat my little asshole baby?"
"Oh yes.: Domenique whispered, "I've been aching to munch your ass honey."
In the next instant, Domenique began to tongue her way into her lover's sweet pink anus. So she lapped, driving her tongue round and round, relishing the scents and flavors of Gwen's most secret place, her saliva flooding from her mouth, saturating Gwen's hole and cascading down her thighs, intermingling with her pussy's succulent juice. Deeper and deeper Domenique drove her tongue into Gwen's ass. Presently, she worked her fingers into Gwen's dripping pussy, and then brought them back out. Her fingers doused slick, Domenique plunged them into her lover's primed anus. Gwen hummed with pleasure, Domenique being the first partner to literally massage her Skene's glands to life, flooding her clitoral crura with the blood of love, stimulate her pudendal and perineal nerves and ultimately tickling her swollen red clitoris from behind.
"Oh I had no idea it would feel this good!" Gwen sang, "You truly are a dirty girl, aren't you? I want to make a video of you doing that to me. I want to see it. Is that what you want me to do to you baby? Do you want me to eat your little asshole all up, huh baby?"
"Yes." Domenique whispered, her cheeks wet, her chin dripping, as she fucked Gwen's ass with two fingers.