|
The Story of Q and R
Q was a somewhat coarse but really majestic woman. She was an authority figure—a karate instructor, a nature hike leader, a professor of biology and ecology. She was the unreachable to the many who knew her, saw her in the news, on TV—and I more than reached her. There had been a husband, and then a boyfriend, and then just a gap in her life that she was filling with a new research project.
I was sitting on the patio outside the bookstore, reading Dickens of all things (Hard Times) when this nondescript female in purple sweats and a mismatched shawl came trundling up the walkway. She had a straw hat on, and sunglasses, and hurt my eyes to look at, so I dropped my sunglasses down and raised my copy of Dickens.
About ten minutes later, I heard a scraping sound. Someone had sat down at the table beside mine. I glanced over my book, and saw it was she. Before I could hide again, she swept hat off, and the sunglasses. She hung the shawl on the chair beside hers, and took off the purple top because the day was warming up. What emerged from under those layers of bundling was what one would call a handsome woman. She wasn't pretty in the accepted sense, but she had a strong, athletic looking face.
She had gray eyes like rain clouds in a sunny sky. She had a strong jaw line and a little rectangular chin and these little blue lips that were already, at 32, torn at the edges with sun wrinkles. Same with her eyes. She looked older than her age, and yet she was stunning. She caught me staring at her and winked. I nodded. She sipped her hot coffee and unfurled the day's newspaper. Out came a pair of horn-rimmed reading glasses.
As she read, she glanced up, and our eyes met. She smiled and quickly looked down again. I was interested, and I thought she was too. How right I was. She initiated the conversation. "Dickens," she said. "Love the man. That's one hellacious little heroine." I held up the book questioningly, and she nodded. "Sissy Jupe," she said, "a woman after my heart. The bold little girl who shows grown men right from wrong."
"A real heroine," I agreed. Our conversation meandered through its expected twists and turns, and I was beginning to admire the hard, athletic body under her dark blue T-shirt and those loose gray sweats. She resembled one of those sunburned vixens you saw with braids wrapped around their blond heads like crowns. They had climbed mountains and were now looking into the camera with chapped, reddened cheeks as they devoured bread and cheese. Their flower was the edelweiss. Their teeth were white as snow. Their thoughts were almost that pure, until you got to know them better.
Q, who would have brushed most men away like insects, had me follow her to her house in the suburbs. We made a pretense of wanting to find her Dickens books or something—the exact charade didn't matter. The fact was that we were interested in the comforts and adventures of one another's bodies. Then there was the matter of the roommate.
Q lived in an old ranch style house. I didn't have a car, so she drove and I sat in the passenger seat with the wind whipping through my hair. "You have nice hair," she said at one point. I thanked her. We spent an hour or two in her living room watching reruns of very old programs—The Twilight Zone, Gilligan's Island, Clutch Cargo. She plied me with beer, popcorn, pretzels, even a good ham and cheese sandwich on rye. I absorbed the atmosphere of almost boyish neglect and clutter, complete with wet suits and surf boards on the walls.
The roommate showed up. That was R, a tasty looking Eurasian mix of about 30, tall, with almond eyes and long glossy black hair. R had that same robust, chapped aura, and she wasn't going away. I began to think I was misreading the cues, and considered how long of a walk it might be to the nearest bus stop if I bailed out of there. All the while, I had been gauging the attractiveness of Q's athletic body with its full breasts and sturdy hips and thighs. This was a woman who could power a bike uphill or a luge sled downhill. This was the kind of woman whose thighs could crush your head with vise-like strength while you sucked at her clam.
Q and I had just begun to get cozy when R showed up. Q and I were on the couch, watching some ancient black and white romance with Cary Grant and somebody. I was following Q's lead as she brought me to her sexy place. Then this tall Eurasian walked in, greeted us as if there were nothing unusual about us both being under the same blanket on the couch with our popcorn and beer and movie. Q was a warm woman, a regular oven, a generator, and I was almost sweating, except that she had her hand on my cock under the blanket and a hungry look in her eyes. So now the tall Kyoto Krusher walks in and sits down on the love seat. I would have expected Q to recoil in modesty, but the hand on my cock kept cranking. Pretty soon, she was rubbing her palm under my balls. There was this hump in the blanket that kept moving up and down, but R appeared not to notice. "Cool movie," she said.
"Oh..." Q replied. "Yes." The first was a moan because I slipped my hand into her pants and found that she had an enormous clitoris that interested me and made my cock double in size instantly in her loving hand.
"Who's in it?" R asked while hoisting a palmful of popcorn over her lower lip and following that with a wash of beer from a glass mug.
Q could only reply by looking at R with her mouth open and a stricken look, as if she'd been hit by lightning. That was me, four fingers in her dripping wet vagina, hoisting moisture over her clitoris and rubbing it like a tiny dick.
"Don't know?" R said as she tossed another few kernels over her lower lip, and washed that down with suds. She was longer, thinner, smaller breasted than Q, and more graceful, less dikey.
Q had enough. She couldn't take anymore. Rising with the blanket wrapped around herself, she pulled me up. "Into bed."
R watched the movie obliviously as we wandered off into the back of the house. There, on a huge bed, Q stripped off the last of her clothing and lay under the sheets waiting for me to join her. I was naked in seconds, and eager to explore what she had there. First we kissed—passionately, and she was very good. She offered me first one breast, then the other, and I sucked on her big brown nipples. She was a brownie. Brownish lips, brown nipples the color of chocolate, brown cunt, brown asshole pucker.
I went down under the sheets while she pressed on my head, moaning, and I explored. What I was most intent on seeing was that clitoris, and I was not disappointed. What a wonder it was! I had the dear girl pull her knees back so I could enjoy the full expanse of her powerful buttocks and thighs. Her cunt sort of melted in its own juices as I stroked it with my tongue. I tasted something like mushrooms. I felt the ripples hit her, and heard her crying out softly, and knew she was on the first orgasm. At that moment, her little clitoral hood parted, and a tender grayish bud popped out. I rubbed my fingertip over her pee hole while licking that erupting mushroom, that kernel of her sexual pleasure.
She made a lot of noise, all of it dear to me and welcome as I sated the idleness of my hands by gently twisting her naked tits. Then she took over with both hands, massaging her tits with their brown nipples, while I pushed her thighs back against her stomach and got my tongue into the full pungent stew of her cunt. I marvel to this day, thinking of that gray, pinkish clitoris growing as my tongue lapped against it. It grew to the size of a very large peanut before dear Q collapsed in a shower of contractions and spasms and double over so that she landed hard on top of me. The big gentle girl, she apologized in her daze and confusion. I kissed her fluttering hand as she brushed it over my head to say she was sorry.
Then the other woman came in. That was R, who sat on the edge of the bed looking at us. Dear gentle Q, unreachable heroine of ecology and saving the world, was apologetic again, speaking as if R was not there. "We aren't gay or anything. My friend and I enjoy watching each other get fucked, if that's okay with you."
I was more than eager to help out, and told them so in a casual manner that suggested I did this every day. I asked them which one would like to go first, and then answered my own question. "Q, you already came hard, so why not let me play with R so she can catch up with us." They agreed to this, and so R took off all her clothes and slid underneath me while Q curled up to watch. I wasn't going to let it be that simple. "Look at her pussy," I told R. "Look at her clitoris. Isn't that little lady a marvel?"
R nodded as she looked to one side, at Q's cunt. Even as I played with R, I kept a finger on Q's marvelous clit. With my fingertip, I massaged the soft flesh around it to keep it as upright and protruding as possible. Q helped out by bringing one finger up from under her ass and inserting it in her cunt, while coming down her belly with the other arm and inserting a finger in her cunt from above.
R's cunt was nice, in that she had a little tiny kernel that grew hard as stone in the moment before orgasm, and slight labial sails, nothing remarkable. I didn't buy the not-gay thing. I suspected that one or both were bisexual but had no idea how that worked. If anything, I suspected R of being bi, although Q was probably a good candidate. Who cares about labels? I don’t. I'll never know, and it doesn't matter. I think a lot of confused people are really bisexual and don't know it. I fucked them each in turn, and they each came—noisily, and wetly. Q licked her Asian partner's cunt while holding my hard, erect dick as I knelt beside them. I got them each to lick the other's cunt, and they each had a huge climax. The Asian woman had been at Q's great clitoris before, and they had not been entirely honest with me. I note this with humor, because I don't expect people to be honest with strangers about their most private and intimate passions. People often aren't honest with themselves about their innermost desires. Q sat back and let R tongue her swollen peanut, while rubbing the Asian's hair with her rough and horny hand and squeezing herself on the nipples and fluttering her eyelids in pleasure. Q readily took my offered cock in her mouth and deep-throated it while the other woman lipped Q's clitoris. When Q dropped me off at the Piano Music house late that night, I climbed weakly up to my floor, entered my gray little cell there, and slept a long exhausted time.
|
