Bisexual Hip-Hop Orgy

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They'd give up their do-rags for one night of ghetto-bliss.
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Michelle dragged Honey into the bathroom, and shoved her in front of the mirror. "Look!" She shouted. "For God's sake! You're fucking white!"

Honey stared at her own reflection. Her do-rag covered her bleached hair, her jersey was so baggy you couldn't make out the swell of her breasts underneath, and the gold crosses were copious. Michelle flicked at one of them with her fingertips. "And as for these," she said disgustedly, "you're Jewish." Michelle turned away. "You cannot wear that tonight. I'm leaving now. I'll see you at the party. Please, please, please. At least take off the fucking do-rag."

After Honey heard the door to her apartment slam, she smiled at herself in the mirror. She did a few pelvic thrusts and made no efforts to remove the do-rag.

The next weekend, since Michelle had refused to see her, Honey found herself sipping cheap beer on the ugly living room couch with her roommate, Brian. Brian was as cracker-ass as Honey, and just as ghetto-fabulous; wearing jeans with the crotch around his knees, a visor, and many a chain. They watched BET disinterestedly and sighed every so often.

"Was it the hydraulics?" Honey asked.

"Yeah," Brian replied. "Caitlin warned me that it'd be over if I actually put them in, but I thought she was just playin'. You know, she's my biatch. I didn't think she'd actually do it."

"Word up, dawg. Michelle was freaking pissed at me for showing up to her birthday party dressed like 'a P. Diddy wannabe.'" Honey turned and looked at Brian. "Can you believe that shit? A wannabe? Man."

Brian shook his head. "These chicks just don't understand. And they never will." He turned back to the TV.

But Honey's brain was spinning. Who didn't need some ghetto-bliss in their lives? It seemed like a weave and some acrylics were just what Michelle needed to get the stick out of her ass. "Hey, B-Dawg," Honey said, jabbing Brian in the gut.

"Ow! Dude, motherfucker!"

"We've got to get them to try it!"

"Try what?"

"Exploring hip-hop culture!"

"Huh?" Brian was confused, and in pain.

"Motherfucker, listen up: We tell them they have to try it for one night, and if they don't like it, we'll give up our do-rags forever. What do you think?"

"I think you're fucking crazy, dawg. I mean, I got Caitlin to do something like this once, but she wouldn't be into it now."

"I think you're wrong. I think every woman secretly longs to get in touch with her inner ho. We'll tell them this will be the last time, and then we'll go out and buy some khakis. They'll do it. Trust me."

On Monday, Michelle disgustedly dialed Caitlin's cell phone. "Hello? Did you hear?" she asked.

"Yeah," Caitlin replied. "One night of ghetto-culture bliss. I'm in."

"You're IN? But it's awful. How could you?"

"I think it'll be fun. I mean, have you seen MTV lately?"

Michelle sighed. "I am not a ho," she said. "I do not shake my booty."

"You're missing out. Sometimes I'd do that for Brian, and he'd get so hard he'd do whatever I wanted him to. I once got him to eat my pussy for an hour in exchange for one lap dance."

Michelle was quiet. "Honey and I haven't really been having a lot of sex lately. It sucks. I miss her. I just think…"

"What?"

"I just think they went a little overboard."

"They did. So we'll give them this one night, and then they'll tone it down."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Hey Michelle."

"Yeah?"

"We've got to go shopping, girlfriend."

The date of the Hip-Hop Extravaganza was set for the upcoming weekend. All the key players raced to prepare themselves for the big day. Honey and Brian made sure their crib was all pimped out, and they stocked the bar with Hennessey and some 40's. When they weren't practicing their inflection of the words "dawg," and, "step off, mofo," they sat and took careful notes on BET and MTV.

Caitlin and Michelle bought out the teenybopper store at the mall. They outfitted themselves in little halter tops, miniskirts, and warm-up suits with hearts studded on the asses. When they got home they turned on BET, and practiced moves along with the tight black dancers on the screen. One of the rappers in the video smacked a ho on the ass, and Michelle stopped grinding herself against Caitlin and groaned in despair. "This is sooo not PC," she cried. "I can't do this in good conscience."

Caitlin gave Michelle a long look. "We've got work to do," she said, stepping close to Michelle and running her fingers through her hair. "I know you'll like it if you give yourself the chance to just let go."

Honey and Brian awaited the doorbell eagerly. The night had finally arrived. They were going to get some ghetto-booty. Honey's pussy was already beginning to moisten at the thought of it, and the thick pink dildo she'd packed stood at attention beneath folds and fold of boxes and baggy jeans. Brian was nursing an erection as well, picturing the last time Caitlin had dolled herself up for him.

Finally, the doorbell rang. Brian and Honey nearly tripped over each other on the way to answer it. They flung the door open, and froze. The girls looked fly-er than fly, tighter than tight, there was not a bit of whackness about them, they were fucking H to the O to the T. Honey pulled her jaw up off the floor and invited them in.

The girls shook their booties all the way inside the crib, into the living room. Brian offered them all some drinks, and they all had a couple of shots of Hennessey. The music was blasting the mix Brian had made especially for this occasion. Honey had Michelle around the waist and they were slowly grinding into each other, Michelle's fingers in Honey's gold chains.

Brian was about to grab Caitlin to dance, when Caitlin suddenly took Michelle by the arm, and dragged her to the center of the living room. She turned the music up a notch, and gave Brian a wicked smile. "Boys," she growled, "go sit yourselves down." And with that, Caitlin morphed into Wildfire, the erotic dancer previously only seen by Brian, at night with the curtains closed and door locked. Caitlin gyrated her hips, pushing her pussy against the material of her skirt, tossing her head back and breasts out, feeling the pound of the music as if it were a cock in her.

Even Michelle, PC lesbian that she was, was not immune. She began to imitate Caitlin's dancing, felt the beat of the music in her blood, felt the power and anger of the lyrics well up in her, so much that she spit out the words to the chorus just like Caitlin did, with the venom and the urgency of the singers themselves.

Honey and Brian sat on the couch, seeing but not believing, cocks in hand, jerking despite themselves. As the song ended and another came on, Michelle and Caitlin had fallen against each other in passion, kissing and teasing each other's lips with their teeth and tongues; Caitlin's hand cupping Michelle's pussy. By the end of the second song, they were making out for all their worth. Michelle's cunt had needs of its own; she was rubbing against Caitlin, squeezing Caitlin's nipples and hissing into her ear, Fuck me, Bitch.

"Gladly," Caitlin purred, and knelt in front of Michelle. Caitlin pushed Michelle's skirt, which had already ridden up very high, out of the way. She began sucking on Michelle's clit through her red thong, her tongue dampening the fabric before tugging it out of the way. Michelle groaned.

Honey could not stand it. She jumped off the couch and tried to join in, tried to put her hands on Michelle's gorgeous breasts.

"No!" Caitlin and Michelle shouted, Michelle slapping Honey's hand away. "Go sit down!"

Honey returned to her seat on the couch. Michelle was close to coming, Caitlin's tongue was lapping her rough and methodically, nibbling her clit, letting her pussy juices run down her face. Michelle came, rubbing her cunt against Caitlin, who laughed and licked her lips, rubbed her own rock hard nipples. "Told you you'd like it," she said.

Honey was whimpering, her fingers slipping into her soaking cunt, rubbing around her fake cock. She and Brian were crammed together on the tiny ugly couch, Brian was moaning softly as he rubbed his swollen cock.

Michelle and Caitlin arranged themselves into a 69 position on the floor. Caitlin hiked up her skirt, and gave a long moan of satisfaction as soon as she felt Michelle's hot tongue on her pussy. She put her head right back where it was, in between Michelle's legs, like she could not get enough of Michelle's juice.

Brian's hand had drifted onto Honey's thigh. Honey was too involved in her own wanking to care. "Honey," Brian whispered into her ear, "Honey you are fucking soaked," he had his fingers on Honey's slit, and was rubbing them back and forth. Honey moaned and pressed her hips into Brian's hand. Before she knew it, Brian was kissing her. His tongue was hot and wet, sucking on her lips and kissing her deeply. She reached between his legs and felt his cock, stiff and warm, pulsing, and sticky with precum. He groaned.

"I'll suck your dick if you'll suck mine," he grunted, jerking his hips in excitement.

At that moment Honey and Brian were aware of silence in the room. In what felt like slow motion, they turned to see their girlfriends, fresh from the orgasms Honey and Brian had been to busy to notice, staring at them wide-eyed, and slack jawed.

Honey and Brian tore away from each other. Brian struggled to cover his enormous erection, while Honey tried to rub the flush out of her cheeks, and the just-kissed gleam off her lips.

Michelle was smiling. So was Caitlin. "It's OK boys," Michelle said. "Go ahead. We won't be tellin yo' peeps that you two were getting it on." She giggled. "Fucking enjoy yourselves."

Caitlin stared at Brian. "I want to see you suck her dick," she said.

Brian, rather sheepishly, took Honey's cock into his mouth. He stroked his tongue over the silicone, enjoying the feel of it in his mouth. He thought of what he knew felt good, and tried to imitate it. Honey was moaning like she could actually feel it, or perhaps the moans were due to her own fingers working her slit.

Brian licked and sucked Honey until his own throbbing cock couldn't stand it anymore. He let Honey's dick slide out of his mouth with a wet slurp and asked it they could switch. Honey dove between his legs, her hand at the base of his shaft, squeezing, her mouth soft and wet, sucking his head. Brian groaned.

So did Caitlin, whose hand was buried in her own pussy, masturbating. Michelle's legs were also spread apart; her fingers were lightly rubbing her clit.

Honey licked the entirety of Brian's cock. She loved it. Brian was leaking precum all over the place, and Honey's pussy was so wet, she was staining the couch. "Brian," she said, removing her lips from his dick and pulling him towards her, "Brian, please." Brian unceremoniously stripped Honey of her strap-on and let it fall to the floor. With one deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt in Honey's pussy. Honey bit her lip to keep from shouting in pleasure. Brian began to pump himself into her, the soft wet walls of her pussy enveloping his cock. Honey's face was completely flushed and she was breathing heavy. "God, Brian, you're going to make me come, please, don't stop." Brian was right on the edge too, but he held out long enough to give Honey an incredible orgasm, her hips spasmed against him, her legs wrapped tight around him and pulled him close as her came and came inside of her.

Honey and Brian sprawled on the couch, spent. Caitlin climbed onto Brian's lap and kissed him lovingly. "That was so sweet," she said. "I liked watching you suck Honey's cock."

Michelle had gathered Honey into her arms as well. "I was so pissed at you," she said. "You're not using the best parts of you when you're being all big and bad. You're really warm and compassionate. That's the girl I fell in love with at Wellesley," she nuzzled Honey's earlobe. "Let's go into your bedroom."

Once inside, Michelle carefully stripped Honey's clothes off. The baggy jersey, the jeans, the boxers. Honey stood there, her breasts perky on her chest, her body thin except for a little belly. Michelle stood in front of her, and reached out to touch one of her breasts. In a second, they were on each other. There was no sound except for their frenzied breath. Michelle's fingers found Honey's crotch, and two of them slipped inside. Honey moaned, and Michelle whispered in her ear how much she'd always loved feeling Honey's pussy.

Honey pushed Michelle onto the bed, almost in tears with the need to taste her. She gripped Michelle's legs and spread them, and began tonguing her pussy. She let her tongue slide up and down, all along Michelle slit. Honey licked until Michelle's breathing quickened, then she crawled up Michelle's body and kissed her.

"Oh, Honey," Michelle whimpered. "I love it so much when you fuck me, please fuck me now," she grabbed Honey's hand and pushed it towards her crotch. Michelle bit Honey's ear and begged, "We haven't in so long, I want you inside of me."

Honey plunged her fingers into Michelle's cunt, open and aching. Michelle let out a quiet grunt and arched her back. Honey fucked her fingers into Michelle's cunt, loving the feel of Michelle's juice soaking her. Michelle pulled Honey close to her, whispering, "It's so different with somebody you love, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," moaned Honey, her own pussy dripping onto the sheets. Honey began to concentrate of Michelle's hard clit. She rubbed back and forth, not varying her pace despite Michelle's thrashing about, until Michelle's body tensed and she came.

Honey squeezed Michelle to her and kissed her, whispering to her. Michelle, in her post-orgasmic daze, pulled Honey's lips to hers and kissed her hard, her skin sweaty from the night's exertions.

Before Honey could register what was happening, her back was arching and she was moaning into the air. Michelle had jammed three fingers inside her and was fucking her right over the edge. Honey rode Michelle's fingers for another few minutes, until she exploded all over Michelle's hand, juice running down Michelle's wrist.

Michelle and Honey wrapped their arms around each other and cuddled. They were both in desperate need to sleep. Honey made one last joke about finally being cured of her do-rag habit. Michelle giggled, then got very serious, or very sleepy. Or some of both.

"Honeybear," Michelle said, her chest rising and falling, "just remember this: the music is good, but please be yourself."

And then they fell asleep.

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