If you are a new reader of Lynn’s adventures and care about character development, storyline links, etc., then I would urge you to read the prequel to this series. It can be found as ‘Lynn’s Journeys’. If on the other hand-no pun intended-you read for the masturbatory pleasure it brings you, then enjoy!
“Okay, then it’s settled; when we’re ready to open the gallery, we’ll name it “Lynn’s Alley”, Ali said to me, “Agreed Lynn Marie?”
“Yes, Ali, I agree,” I said, “Now, will you let me up?”
“Yep, just as soon as you get me off once more,” lowering her pussy to my mouth, her legs trapping my head between them as she knelt on the bed over me.
We had been very busy this past month or so, getting me settled into the manse, figuring out spaces for the both of us. The easiest part was moving my clothes into the other half of the huge master walk-in closet.
We decided to move Ali’s office from the downstairs part of the Quarters’ ‘art’ building, at the apartment, to the big house. Ali and I would share office space in the library, converting it to a very workable 2-person office; and with room left over to keep the leather sofas and chairs.
I would now use that space at the Quarters for my photo files, equipment, and a hodge-podge of ‘stuff’ that I use in my photography.
Temporarily, I would share Ali’s painting studio at the big house, over the carriage house, for my shooting studio, when required.
“So are you happy with your new car,” Ali asked as we walked from the cart to our ball locations, in the fairway.
I had purchased a BMW 2-seater like Ali’s right after I moved to the city.
“Yeah, I am,” I answered, “though at times, when I’m on a photo shoot I wish it were a bit bigger but it certainly is easy to move around in the Quarters with it.”
“That’ll work for now; we can share the ‘big car’, you know,” striking the ball afterwards with her five iron, flying it straight to the green.
Damn but I wish I had her game.
“What time are we expected, Ali?” I called from the shower as I turned off the water.
“It starts at seven’ish, Sharon said, but anytime we get there will be just fine,” Ali replied.
‘It’ was a party that Sharon was throwing for us, for Ali and I, to celebrate my move to the city.
All of Ali’s social circle now knew that Ali and I were a couple; and in that strange Southern manner, while it was ‘known’, and while we were ‘celebrating’ the event, it wouldn’t be ‘talked about’, not in public anyway.
That’s alright, I can live with that, I kinda’ like being known as Miss Alice’s ‘special friend’, Miss Lynn.
Sharon, like Ali, was loaded.
Her family home was in the very old-money, tony enclave known locally as the ‘Garden District’.
Huge multi-storied homes on large city lots, with trees along St. Charles Avenue, providing a canopy of shade over the roadway and the street car tracks that were in the middle of the boulevard.
Sharon lived at the family home, a seemingly common practice among the daughters of wealthy Southern families.
She also had an apartment near the Quarters; “for when I want to play naked with my friends”, Sharon said.
She would never bring a playmate home to the big house, not while her parents were there, anyway. For this party, her parents were on vacation in St. Croix, Sharon told us, a wicked smile on her face.
We dressed in light-weight dinner dresses with spaghetti straps, and bodices that showed our ‘wares’ to great advantage. Ali and I had fallen into the habit of dressing sexily when we went out socially; we liked the looks that we drew from both men and women, turning us both on in some sort of convoluted way.
Looking at ourselves in the floor-length mirror, we had decided that we looked hot, smiling at each other.
Throwing the overnight bag into the trunk, I drove us there with the top down, laughingly speeding through the city, following Ali’s directions.
One of the things that I liked about Sharon was her unabashed straight-forwardness; one never had to guess where Sharon was on any issue.
When she was over visiting one evening, sharing some new weed she had just scored, she told us of the party she was planning for us.
“I’m glad that you guys are okay with me doing this (the party),” passing the joint to Ali, “it’ll be a really good time for everybody; we (the social circle) haven’t had a party in almost two months.”
“Well, we appreciate that you want to do this,” Ali said to her as she passed the joint to me.
“Would you guys like to spend the night?” Sharon asked, taking the joint from me, the night air on the veranda feeling cool after the afternoon rain we had a few hours ago.
“Why, do you think we’re going to get that drunk?” I asked her, waiting for Ali to pass the joint back to me.
“No, I casino şirketleri want to fuck the both of you again; that was a lot of fun when we did it before and I’d like to do it again,” Sharon replied very straight-forwardly.
Like I said before, I like that you always know where Sharon is on issues.
“So you’re really okay with playing with Sharon again?” Ali asked me after Sharon had left, and after we agreed to spend the night for some special fun between the three of us.
Ali and I had come to the realization that we enjoy playing with others as a couple; that we weren’t threatened by threesomes, or foursomes with others, and that we truly enjoyed that kink in our psyches.
As Ali had observed before, our recreational sex with others didn’t lessen our love of each other when we made love as a couple, just the two of us.
“Yeah, I am, sweetie; Sharon’s a lot of fun in the sack, don’t you agree?” I answered as I rounded a traffic circle, leading me onto St. Charles Avenue.
“Yep, she is, and the fact that she wants to do us again, kinda’ makes me feel good, ya know?”
“Yep, I do,” shifting to fourth gear, my hand sliding from the gear shift knob to Ali’s thigh.
“No, no, baby, not yet,” Ali said, moving my hand back to the shifter, “if I let you start playing with me now, we won’t make the party.”
She was right, I knew.
Sharon greeted us warmly; leading us to a connecting bedroom to hers, we dropped off our weekender and followed her back downstairs, to the bar. Tipping our glasses against each other’s, we toasted ourselves.
“The party is going to be fun,” Sharon was saying as we walked around with her, greeting other party attendees, some of whom I remembered from Ali’s party a few months ago.
Leaning towards the two of us, she lowered her voice so only we could hear her, saying, “But, I’m really looking forward to our private party afterwards,” blowing us an air kiss and walking off to greet a friend.
“She’s horny,” Ali remarked.
“Ya think?” I replied.
The party was fun; a combo began playing at eight’ish or so, and couples were dancing, enjoying the drinks and the music. Ali and I did our duty and danced with friends’ husbands or boyfriends, not a terrible chore.
I did notice, though, that a couple of Ali and Sharon’s girlfriends, some married, and some not, seemed to speak with me with a renewed interest knowing, now, that I was a lesbian. A couple of married women flirted with me openly which I thought was interesting.
By one thirty in the morning, the last of the guests had departed, along with the catering staff and musicians. Once again it was the three of us having a nightcap after a party.
“I thought it went well, didn’t you guys?” Sharon asked, taking a sip of her cognac afterwards.
“Absolutely, Sharon, and again, thank you,” Ali answered for both of us.
“You really want to thank me?” Sharon said, looking at us both, leaning towards us, her mouth ready for a kiss.
I leaned forward before Ali did and gave Sharon her expected kiss, my tongue sliding easily into her mouth and finding hers, ready to play. Ali moved into an embrace with us, her hand deftly unzipping Sharon’s dress first, then mine, and finally, her own.
I dropped to my knees, moving Sharon’s thong to the side so that my tongue could taste her, licking her wet labia, making it even more so.
Looking up from Sharon’s pussy, as my mouth and tongue were furiously attacking Sharon’s nether regions, I saw that Ali was now kissing her and fondling her breasts; Sharon had one arm around Ali’s neck, her other hand squeezing Ali’s breasts in turn.
“Want to go upstairs, sweetie?” Ali breathed in Sharon’s ear when they broke from their kiss, “want us to take you upstairs and fuck you, baby?”
“Yes, yes, now, let’s go now,” Sharon said in a panting breath as my tongue found her swollen clitoris.
Leaving our gowns on the kitchen floor, we ran up the stairs into Sharon’s bedroom.
Ali was in a playful mood, making Sharon beg for her climax, making her get us off first, one after the other, while we kept her on the edge of orgasmic release the whole time, playing with her.
Ali was between Sharon’s legs, eating her, when she let Sharon achieve release; I was lying next to Sharon, sucking her breasts, biting her nipples hard enough to leave marks but which she loved for us to do.
Her cry of delight at climaxing filled the bedroom with her sounds.
We rested, the three of us, lying with each other, our bodies wet with sex-sweat, our fingers touching each other as we regained our breath.
“I’m really getting into this, you guys,” Sharon said suddenly, “I am really enjoying this girl/girl stuff.”
“Actually, Sharon, its girl/girl/girl stuff,” Ali corrected, jokingly of course.
“Whatever! Bitch!” Sharon laughingly replied.
“Did you just casino firmaları call my girlfriend a bitch?” I asked Sharon.
“Yeah, so what?” she replied, pretty sure that I was joking, but not completely, ya know?
“Well, you’re going to have to pay for that remark, slut!” I said as I moved to straddle her head between my knees, my pussy brushing her lips.
“Eat me, Sharon, that’s your punishment,” lowering my pussy for her to taste.
“Beat me, whip me, make me eat pussy,” Sharon said, laughing, moving her mouth to surround my wet snatch.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to find my own entertainment,” Ali said to us as she crawled between Sharon’s legs once again, her head bowing down to Sharon’s nookie.
The sun was cracking the horizon with ‘false dawn’ when we surrendered to the fatigue from the sex; we slept in Sharon’s king-sized bed, all of us wet around our mouths with pussy juices.
By the time we finally awoke, had a morning swim-more like a noon swim-and munched on some left-over canapés, it was nearly three in the afternoon before we left Sharon’s home.
Waving us goodbye, Sharon did have that ‘freshly-fucked’ look about her, we thought.
“That was fun, hon, don’t you think?” I said to Ali.
“Sure was; Sharon’s right, you know, she is really into having sex with us, and I also think her munching abilities improved quite a bit, don’t you?”
“Oh yeah, I noticed that right away; don’t know who she’s been practicing with but she’s been working on her skills, that’s for damned sure,” I agreed.
“Wanna’ fuck when we get home, slut?” Ali asked just before she gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek.
“You bet, whore,” I responded, “I’ll show you what eating pussy is all about.”
“Promises, promises,” Ali said, laughing with me afterwards.
Well, I did.
“Wanna’ sit for me after lunch?” Ali asked me over coffee, sitting on the back patio.
“Sure, I’ll be back by eleven at the latest,” I told her, “I’m only going to shoot a few different angles.”
My errand that morning was to ‘shoot’ one of the gigantic Live Oak trees that peppered the grounds at one of the local Universities.
For the past few weeks, I had been posing (sitting) for Ali as she painted a nude portraiture of me. Actually, reclining would be more accurate as opposed to sitting.
She said she had been toying with the idea for a while, since we had met, and decided that she did indeed want to do a nude of me. It’d be my body but with my face hidden behind a ‘Mardi Gras Mask’, which I would hold in one of my hands.
She really was talented I had long ago decided when I saw some of her works, but this nude of me was beyond anything she had done before.
“Are you sure that’s my body on that canvas,” I said that afternoon when we ended the session.
“Absolutely, who else’s would it be,” she replied, with a hint of indignation.
“Well, it’s just that I don’t see my own body as being that hot or beautiful,” I honestly said to her.
“Well, honey, maybe you don’t love yourself as much as I love you,” Ali responded, her eyes melting my heart with the love she expressed when she looked at me ‘that way’.
I love her so fucking much, and I told her so again that afternoon, as I got dressed.
We were off that evening to a new show at one of the galleries in the Quarters. We would return to the big house afterwards, rather than the apartment a few blocks away, at least that’s what we had planned to do.
The plans changed when we met Di at the show.
We were enjoying the paintings as we sipped champagne and walked the gallery, nodding to familiar faces when we saw them; yes, even me, for I was starting to recognize some of the same people we’d seen at other events.
Di was new, and Di was a gorgeous Black woman with skin the color of mocha chocolate. She’s tall, probably 5’10 or so, with a runner’s body; hard, firm ass looking deliciously tight in her slacks, firm arms and flat stomach, and what I assumed to be, D-cup sized breasts.
We kept returning to the same large abstract repeatedly over the evening and more often than not, Di was there again as well.
“Looks as if we like the same thing, doesn’t it ladies?” Di said to us on our fourth or fifth return trip to the large, wall-sized piece.
“If only we could be that lucky,” Ali piped up, her voice full of innuendo.
Di looked at Ali with a bit of confusion in her eyes but the smile didn’t leave her face.
“I was talking about a mutual attraction to cannabis, perhaps,” Ali covered her tracks by saying, “I mean only a lover of the bud could appreciate this piece of stoned imagination,” laughing as she said it.
“Damn,” Di said, “do I smell like reefer or something?” Di said, sniffing at her blouse sleeves.
“No, no, honey, I was just thinking that I’d have to be stoned to paint this güvenilir casino myself, and as much as we’ve seen you admiring it as well, I just made a quantum leap, like I do about most things,” Ali said further.
“Well, I’m busted, regardless,” Di said to us, laughing, “I did a bone before I walked into the gallery and I though the smell might have stayed with me.”
“Just the dope paranoia,” I offered, “happens to us all the time.”
“Must be,” she said, “well, that’s the last of my weed anyway, so I won’t have to worry about it for a while.”
We introduced ourselves, and sat on a viewing bench, chit-chatting, feeling the vibes of which there were plenty. I asked Di if she’d like to walk back to our apartment and join us in a little ‘bud therapy’. Ali smiled when I did so, almost as if I had beaten her to the suggestion.
We kept a bit of bud at the apartment at all times, for convenience, and for moments like this, spur of the moment urges, etc.
Looking at us both, realizing that we were serious with our invite, she nodded a bit and said that she thought it was a fine idea, and off we walked, heading to the apartment, laughing at what we were about to do.
Di was a local, but had spent the last ten years of so on the west coast, gigging with different groups. She returned to New Orleans to rediscover her musical roots, playing a solo gig at an established downtown hotel, in one of the smaller bars. Mostly, she said, she played Blues, Standards, and Jazz Classics, singing, as well as playing.
She was single now, twice divorced, having had a few ‘steady’ and ‘sort-of-steady’ men in her life since she was twenty or so; she was, she informed us, forty-two, and she looked not a day over thirty.
Her skin was smooth, flawless, as was her complexion. Her smile could light up a coastline, and her humor suited ours as well; sardonic, sarcastic, and not taking herself very seriously.
When she found out that Ali and I were, indeed, a couple-she had suspected as much she told us, watching us walking around at the art show-she smiled and said that she hadn’t gone down that road, yet, but had thought about it quite a few times.
“I’m a bit of an explorer with the mysteries of life,” she said, clearly stoned after we finished the first, fat doobie.
“Preaching to the choir, girlfriend,” Ali said, her words a bit slow and stoned, as well.
“This is really good shit,” Di said as we prompted her to finish it and to eat the roach.
“Yep, it is,” I said, and then proceeded to roll a couple of bones for her, surprising her when I handed them to her.
“Oh no, I can’t,” she said, “But thank you for the thought.”
“Of course you can, and we insist,” I pressed on.
Seeing we were serious, she graciously thanked us and accepted our token of new friendship.
We exchanged numbers and email shit, promising her that we’d come and see her in a couple of nights and hang out with her at the piano bar.
We walked her through the patio, to the gate and pausing, she hugged us both, seemingly comfortable with embracing a couple of ‘lezes’. Saying goodnight, we watched her walk back towards the gallery and her car.
“Want to just stay here tonight, since we’re already here?” Ali asked as we walked back to the apartment, our arms around each other’s waist.
“Sure, might as well,” I agreed.
“She’s a hottie,” Ali offered, “definitely, a hottie.”
“Yep, she surely is,” I agreed.
“Would you do her?” she asked.
“Yep, would you?”
“Yep, I would,” then laughing at some thought that had just occurred to her.
“How ironic it would be if I fulfilled my secret ‘Southern Damsel Fantasy’ of fucking a Black by said Black being a woman,” she finally shared with me.
“Ironic, indeed,” I agreed, locking the door behind us, taking her into my arms and attacking her lustfully, fueled by thoughts of a reverse Oreo cookie; two white cookies with chocolate in the middle.
Pushing her backwards towards the couch as I kissed her hard, my tongue reaching deep into her mouth and throat, my hands practically ripped off her clothes. My animal lust for Ali at that moment was beyond anything I had ever experienced before, with a man or a woman.
Ali’s head was on the couch-arm now, her body being forced into the cushions by my own; her hands were pulling at my dress, raising it to my hips, slipping her thigh between my legs. I leaned into it with my pussy, the heat from the both of us palatable in the air, as was the smell of raw sex.
As I continued to grind my pussy into her smooth, warm skin, I lowered my head to her breasts, sucking and licking with a frenzy. Drawing her nipples into my mouth, one at a time, I bit hard enough to cause her several gasps of pain/pleasure.
The mind-movie playing in my head as our lovemaking became hotter and hornier was of Ali and I doing this with Di as a partner.
Sliding my tongue from her red, swollen wet nipples, I pulled her thong off of her as she crossed her legs behind my head, ‘trapping’ me against her crotch.
Ali liked what I did to her that night; she liked it a lot.