I dashed into the bathroom and gave myself a cursory sponge bath—my face, under my arms, mopping up the wet mess that was my sexy ass sorely-in-need pussy—and dapped on some expensive perfume for my “date”. It was an expensive brand that I only used for very special occasions. And I do think my first excursion into lesbianism qualified as a being VERY special occasion.
Of course, I was assuming that whoever “she” was, she would be one of the students. But “she” could just as easily be another white woman D’bone could very well be banging the livin’ shit out of. She could even be another teacher. This last possibility I found more than mildly intriguing as I adjusted the lighting in the bedroom to a sexy ass soft, mellow glow, then retrieved my filmy negligee from the corner where it had ended up sometime Saturday night. I considered sexy ass this new possibility as I slipped the negligee on and tied the satin bow at the throat—leaving my naked body exposed from there down. Several “possibilities” came to mind, but none of them could I picture myself being intimate with… not voluntarily, anyway. Not that I would have any choice in the matter. Once Darnell and “she” entered the house, D’bone—not “she” or I—would be calling the shots in whatever sexy ass transpired after they entered the bedroom.
I was reclining as seductively as I knew how in the middle of the bed when I heard noise coming from the kitchen—the solid thump of the connecting door to the garage being closed and the distinctive snap of the bolt being thrown. There was some fumbling around, someone bumping into
sexy ass something, a muffled laugh, the sound of a chair being slid back from the kitchen table. Then hushed voices were coming up the stairs—Darnell’s, and someone else’s; a much
sexy ass softer voice… that
sexy ass sounded strangely familiar.
Darnell’s dark form appeared in the doorway. “Like the setup,” he commented. “It’s pure-D sexy, Diane.”
I was about to thank him when I heard a startled gasp in the hall. “Damn… damn you, Darnell! You… you should have told me whose house this was. God FUCKING damn you!”
I sat bolt upright. That voice was no longer “strangely” familiar; it was VERY familiar, and the profanities she was spewing at Darnell were none I had ever heard come from her always-polite mouth. “Chantel?”
My nipples were instantly hard and aching terribly. My pussy was leaking seriously this time. My heart was racing out of control. Chantel was the last girl I would have ever suspected of something like this, but I could think of
sexy ass no one with whom I would so willing want to have a lesbian affair.
Chantel was, undeniably, the most strikingly attractive girl in school. Every boy in school—and most of the male teachers as well—hungrily followed Chantel with
sexy ass his eyes, if not bodily, around campus. And I couldn’t blame any of them one bit. Nineteen years old, tall and willowy—5’ 8”, 5’ 9”, maybe 120 pounds, with the face of an angle, raven-black hair, a flawless complexion that was a
sexy ass creamy mocha-caramel, a model’s bearing—though not
sexy ass a model’s emaciated figure, with a regal grace about her—Chantel was the aloof, sophisticated vision of every boy’s wet
sexy ass dream come to life. And now mine, too.
But that wasn’t all there was to Chantel
sexy ass; she also had the brains to go along with her classic beauty. Having started school much later than she should have—8 1/2 was what was listed in her transcript—she had caught up fast, skipping several grades, and had
sexy ass been only a year older than the majority of her woefully inept peers upon graduation.
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