Anja's Game

This is the concluding part of the series. For it to make sense, you need to have arrived here via Parts 1 through 6. You know it makes sense. 🙂

***

I decided to keep my reply to Frida light, while still letting her know I wanted to see her again.

Her importance to me, and my feelings towards her, were betrayed by the fact that my heart was thumping as I typed...

'Hi Frida, glad to hear you are bearing up under the strain ;-) I'm looking forward to seeing you back to your bright and beautiful best very soon.

Anja

xx'

I waited for a reply - I was hoping for a little text chat with her - but none came. I was a little crushed, but I put it aside and just looked forward to seeing her when she was back working. At least she had made a point of sending me a message.

Days passed and I moped around. It was my curse, so I couldn't even go out looking for sex, which is my usual go-to remedy for all ills. Annoyingly, I often feel horny (even MORE horny) when it's my curse, but luckily, I can still use my Satisfyer on my clit, which I did, more than once, while thinking about the women I'd recently been with, but mostly about Frida.

I resisted texting her again. I didn't want to seem desperate, or pushy. In fact, I didn't know what I wanted to seem like, but my instincts told me texting her just now would be a bad idea. I just concentrated on working, and sleeping a lot.

Nine days later, I was back to normal, so I decided to tootle by the Wednesday market to see if she was back on the stall yet. I dressed like last time, with a summer dress, a simple hairstyle, and no makeup, but as I approached I could see that Arne was manning the stall and there was no sign of Frida. Dammit. It was a wasted effort... Or maybe it wasn't.

I turned aside before I got to the stall, making sure Arne hadn't spotted me, and immediately crashed into a curvy and attractive black woman. Neither of us fell, but we had to cling to each other to steady ourselves.

'Oops, sorry,' she said.

'No, no, completely my fault. I should look where I'm going... Yasmine?

We both laughed. 'Yes, it's me. You're from the Giraffe, aren't you? I didn't catch your name.'

'Anja.'

'Oh yeh, you were spoken for. With Beth, yes?'

'That's right, but that was then...'

She grinned, showing her large dazzling teeth. 'In that case, I'm glad I, er, bumped into you again. Fancy a drink in the 'sheaf?'

'A drink, yes, but not in the 'sheaf. Can we go to the Beehive instead?'

'Sure, let's go.'

The Beehive was a couple of streets away, but I didn't want to go to the Wheatsheaf because it was likely to bring back too many memories of Frida. We walked to the Beehive.

'Yasmine was an interesting character. She was definitely older than me, though I didn't initially know by how much, and she had a disarmingly straightforward and matter-of-fact way of speaking. She gave me the impression that not much embarrassed her, and that no subject was taboo. Most people are a little closed on first meeting someone new, a little guarded, but not her. By the time we were ensconced in the Beehive, I already knew that she was divorced 5 years before, and was a relatively new lesbian.

'I've just been having a lot of girly fun these past few years, and lots of sex. I've discovered that I really like young white girls...'

'Well thanks for the compliment - I'm 28!'

'That's young to me darling, I'm 45.'

I was genuinely amazed. I would have guessed thirties, maybe late thirties, but certainly not old enough to be my mum.

'Wow, I'd never have guessed that. I'd have said 36 or 7, tops.'

'You're very kind Anja, but i do have a tell-tale wrinkle or two here and there, I can assure you.'

'Oo, anywhere interesting?' I said, playfully licking my lips.'

'You're naughty,' she laughed, eyes wide, 'but I wouldn't mind showing you, actually.'

It was the turn of my eyes to widen, and I felt that oh-so-familiar zing of excitement pass through me. I was so taken aback, I didn't immediately respond.

'Does my age put you off, Anja?'

'No, not at all, but I should tell you that I'm not looking for a long-term relationship. Just a bit of fun.'

'Well, same here. I've been having a great time this last five years. For me, life really did begin at 40! I've just been making the most of my new-found sex life and I've been amazed by what was lurking in my body and mind. I know I'm not getting any younger though, and I aim to cram as many women into my life as I can before I settle down to matronhood. You know what I mean?'

Oh yes, I definitely knew. I nodded, but I was thinking. Did it put me off? Not really. Before she told me, I'd thought she was not much older than Frida, and age was never an issue with her. I found Yasmine very alluring, regardless of her age, so no. It wasn't a factor.

It's funny, I'd never particularly considered myself attracted to older women, or black women, or even to voluptuous women with big tits, but I think women of any colour, size or, within reason, age can be beautiful and sexy, and I've certainly had the hots for a wide range of different women over the years. I'd never reject someone purely on the grounds of age, colour, or size.

In Yasmine's case, I found the combination (older, black, and voluptuous) uniquely alluring, and my imagination was running riot imagining being pinned down between those full thighs, or lost between those bounteous boobs. She noticed me admiring her lusciously full figure and smiled.

'Are you checking me out, Anja?'

'I am,' I grinned.

'And?'

'And, I think my nipples approve.' I glanced down at my breasts, where definite bumps were appearing through my dress. There was something very very sexual and provocative about her, even though she wasn't dressed particularly sexily.

She was wearing a knee-length black gingham skirt -- much longer than the one she'd had on in the Giraffe -- with flattish sandals, and a button-up cap-sleeved blouse in a vivid shade of leaf green, which looked great against her dark skin, and showed off a narrow knotwork tattoo encircling her upper right arm. I noticed again the silver stud in her nostril, her long, painted nails, and the fact that her blouse was very well-filled indeed.

She was talking though, so I tried to concentrate on what she was saying; 'I spotted you in the Giraffe a while ago, when you left with that tall girl, and when I saw you again, clearly on your own, I thought it was my lucky day, but that blasted barmaid had got her hooks into you already.'

'Yes, that was unfortunate timing. It wasn't easy to give you a gentle brush off that night.'

'I went home alone and frustrated that night -- good God my toys had some serious work to do...'

I giggled, a little embarrassed by her forthright admission that she'd had to resort to 'self-pleasure' after I'd turned her down, but I found the thought of her lying on her bed, fucking herself with a toy, quite titillating.

'Well, we can make the toys redundant tonight if you like.'

'My, aren't you the forward one?' she said, as if shocked, but I could tell she wasn't. Not in the slightest. In fact I could tell she was getting rather turned on.

'Funny, I didn't expect you to be so easy,' she smirked.

'I didn't expect you to be so irresistible,' I retorted.

'Come on, I'm gonna take you to my place and fuck you senseless.' and she took me by the hand and headed for the door. Once again, I seemed to be the prize catch.

She had her car parked at the bottom end of the market, but we had to head to the multi-story so I could move mine, since it wasn't open 24-7. We walked across the market holding hands, right past Arne and Frida's stall. Shit!

'Hi Anja, how're you doing?'

I immediately let go of Yasmine's hand, but I knew he'd seen... 'Hi Arne. Good thanks,' and we walked on. Dammit, dammit, dammit. He was sure to tell Frida what he'd seen. I might just have blown it once and for all.

We sorted out cars and Yasmine drove me to her swanky second-floor flat in the dockside development. The almost new Lexus should have already told me she was well-off, but this flat confirmed it. I remembered these properties being advertised when they were first built, and the prices were eye-watering. Way out of my reach.

The flat had huge full height windows overlooking the docklands and the river, and very stylish ultra-modern furniture and decor. It was very swish indeed.

'Wow, impressive place Yasmine. I can't imagine how you afford this,' I said, prying a little.

'Do you mean, "what the hell do you do for a living?."

'Erm, yes.'

Without a hint of embarrassment or hesitation she just said, 'I'm an online dominatrix.' Cue my jaw dropping. 'People (mostly men) pay me by the minute to dominate them virtually. It's a surprisingly big market, worldwide. Loads of men are willing to pay to be dominated by a big black woman. Been doing it for 4 years now and it's paid for all this, and the car. Oh, I also do sex toy reviews as a sideline. I'm well-known now. Manufacturers actually send me toys and pay for me to review them. Brilliant, eh?' She grinned.

'Nice work if you can get it!'

'Oh, darlin, you could definitely get it.'

'But the dominatrix thing... how does that work? I mean, there's no actual contact.'

'No, I'm dominating a camera really. It's just a matter of dirty talk, sometimes cracking a whip, and lots of close-ups of my tits and pussy. I have one regular client who only wants close up pussy action, and another who wants me to piss on him -- hence the waterproof case on the camera,' which she indicated, sitting on a shelf. 'It's amazing how many men will pay handsomely for a virtual close-encounter with my cunt,' she laughed wickedly, and here's lucky you, about to get a real encounter for free.'

Wow. Normally, I would have found this revelation quite arousing, but I was actually feeling a little numb. I was sick with the fear that I might have blown it with Frida by being seen hand in hand with Yasmine but, for her sake, I tried to hide it.

She began to strip, right there in the living room, slowly revealing her sensational body. Her breasts were simply amazing, especially for a woman in her 40s. They were huge, but surprisingly firm. Magnificent.

When she was down to just knickers, I whipped off my dress in one quick movement, but before I could remove my own underwear she grabbed me for a full-blooded kiss holding me tight and squashing those tremendous breasts against me. My own medium-sized boobs were completely dwarfed as our bodies squashed together and I loved the feeling of her super-fleshy contours moulding to mine.

She pushed me down to my knees in front of her and she swayed from side to side, trailing her big brown nipples across my face. I captured one between my lips and sucked on it while shaking my head, setting the whole bulging mass of flesh in quivering motion and she grabbed the back of my head and pressed her tit against me, completely enveloping my face in her magnificent mammary.

Despite my inner turmoil over Frida, I was enjoying this. I'd never been with a woman quite this busty before and I was finding it an extraordinary experience. I abandoned myself to the adoration of Yasmine's ample attributes. Revelling in just being enveloped in warm woman flesh.

My pussy was oozing into my knickers and hers was doing the same as she pushed me back against the wall, straddling my legs as I sat on my heels, and leaning forward to imprison me in a delicious tit-trap. She had one hand down her knickers and I found out how wet she was when she brought it up and wiped it, across one of her nipples, making it glisten with juice, and then 'fed' the nipple to me. Smearing more juice across my forehead with her fingers as I sucked on her suddenly very musky skin.

She wanted to give me more though, and she stepped back slightly, holding me against the wall with one hand on my shoulder, and pulled down her knickers, hooking them up neatly with her foot and scrunching them into a damp, juicy ball in her other hand. 'Open wide,' she said huskily, and she pushed them into my mouth. I didn't resist: At that moment, I was crazy with lust for her, and having her panties stuffed into my mouth was sheer sexual heaven, especially when she kissed me, her tongue invading my mouth and sharing her juicy knickers. The taste was exquisite; a heady mix of our two salivas and her earthy vaginal fluids; salty and ever so slightly fishy-pissy. I wanted more! She pulled the wet panties out of my mouth with her teeth, and backed away from me, slinkily.

There was a large, high-backed sofa in the middle of the room facing the view through full-height windows, and she stepped back to place her bum against the back of it, leaning back and displaying her full naked splendour. She dropped the knickers so that they slid down her cleavage and over her pussy onto the floor, and she spread her legs provocatively.

She had the kind of full muscular thighs that only black women seem to possess and, although she was carrying plenty of flesh, her body managed to look somehow athletic and lithe. Like a javelin or discus thrower. She was an impressive and mouth-watering sight.

Her pussy was thrust forward and her legs raunchily apart. It was an unmistakable and irresistible invitation that didn't really need the hooked finger she was beckoning me with, and I crawled forward until I was face to fanny with the rudest pussy I'd ever seen. She had an amazingly prominent mons, and it was covered in black curls, not bushy, but very dense, and the hair continued down, right to the bottom of her lusciously plump outer lips. With some hairy women, the pubes hide everything, but not with Yasmine. Her inner lips protruded, pouting lewdly, fleshy and crinkled. Their edges were almost black in colour and they were glistening darkly with her moisture.

As I approached, gazing in awe at this wickedly indecent sight, she parted her lips with two fingers, suddenly and shockingly exposing the angry looking, almost red flesh of her 'vestibule'. What a sight: the dense, wiry black pubes, the fleshy, glistening, pouting inner lips, and her two fingers with their long red nails, spreading her fleshy pudenda, and stretching the shiny skin of her vulva tight. She had obviously had plenty of practice at displaying herself like this, and it's no wonder men will pay to see it. As for me, my mouth was watering like I'd sucked on a lemon. I actually had to swallow, my mouth was so wet, and I hadn't even touched her yet!

She was smiling down at me as I brought my face close and inhaled her intoxicating aroma, taking it deep into my lungs and savouring the sheer animal allure of it. Its primitive hormonal power to attract. I was deliberately extending my (and her) anticipation, and she played along, bringing her other hand down and stretching her hairy labia further apart, gaping her inner lips and her vagina fully open. I sensed she loved brazenly showing off like this.

'Kiss it,' she said, thickly. 'Kiss it like you love it '

I tilted my head to one side, and kissed her hot wet flesh like I was kissing her mouth, pressing my face, against her raspy, wiry pubes and tonguing her incredibly hot vagina. I looked up into her smouldering eyes and she suddenly shuddered and a thick stream of creamy fluid trickled over my tongue, making my body jolt with the sudden delicious shock of it.

'Gn, g, oh, hn, That's, awesome,' I choked.

'Ohhh, you like that, huh?'.

'Mm, mm, gorgeous.'

Her pussy was sublime. Hot, musky and juicy, with a fleshiness that bordered on the visceral. And those wiry pubes -- so much more harsh than some of the silky pubes I've encountered. To feel their harshness against my face was amazingly arousing. Something I have never encountered before.

I gorged on her breathtakingly succulent fruit until her legs were giving way and her juice was running everywhere; trickling down her thighs, dripping into my cleavage and bathing my tongue in sapid sexual ambrosia. She was making deep guttural noises from somewhere in her chest, and she was moving so much I could hardly keep my tongue working in her convulsing sex as I drove her up to an explosive orgasm.

'Oh, fuuuuuuck!'

She pushed my head back, away from her sex, and slid down, wanking her clit furiously with a finger until she was sitting on the floor, her legs splayed out each side of me as I knelt there. Her heàd was thrown back, eyes tight shut, and chest heaving. She was unable to speak, but before she had a chance to recover, I stood up, yanked the gusset of my knickers aside, and pushed my wet flaps into her face. She wasn't expecting this ('F- f- fuck') but she immediately started eating me enthusiastically. She was still gasping for breath a little, but she went at it with gusto, making delicious sucking and slurping sounds as my pussy oozed streams of syrupy arousal juice into her mouth.

After a minute, I hurriedly dropped my knickers, kicked them away, then returned to straddle her face. I held onto the back of the sofa with both hands and flexed my knees, riding up and down against her, smearing her entire visage with my slippery sex liquid, and she loved it. 'Oh -- yes -- Anja -- fuck me -- mmm -- mmm -- oh -- fuck -- yes...'

Standing there, enjoying her oral attentions, I knew i was going to get more than one orgasm, maybe multiple orgasms, but I knew they wouldn't satisfy or fulfil me. It had been like this lately. It was like that with Mel, scintillating though she was. It was certainly like that with Beth, bless her, and it was even like that with the lovely, lovely Kirsty. It wasn't fair on Yasmine, I knew that, so I just tried to stay in the moment.

She was a voracious pussy-eater. I threw my head back and just luxuriated in the sensations she was sending through me. Her lips and tongue were phenomenal; this was something else she had clearly had practice at, and her passion was palpable. I got rid of my bra as she ate me, and my nipples were as long and pointy as they had ever been, so my physical responses were fully intact. But, somehow, despite her incredible, passionate, expert cunnilingus, I wasn't fully engaged.

I came, noisily, and I squirted a little, and I'm sure she thought that was a result, but it was a pale shadow of some orgasms I'd had in the past. Sorry Yasmine. You deserved better.

She took me to her bed, wanting more, threw me down on the mattress and straddled me, grinding her harsh hairy cunt down on my face as if to outdo what I'd just done to her. It was intense and domme, and my God I usually love that. I used my tongue on her and I was glad when she came, very wetly, making me gurgle and gulp, but I was still hardly there really. Not in spirit, anyway. In truth, I just let her use me to get herself off.

But Yasmine wasn't insensitive: Afterwards, as we were lying side by side, she said 'Anja that was great, but I sometimes felt like you weren't really here. What's wrong darling?'

I started to protest, to say no, everything was fine, but she shook her head. 'You know that thing we women have?' It tells me something's wrong. Did you have second thoughts? Regrets maybe?'

'No Yasmine. No no no, nothing like that.' I was horrified and chastened that she'd think that.

'What then?

Oh God... I knew what it was, but I couldn't tell her about my inner torment over Frida, could I? It wasn't her problem.

'It's... it's not something I want to talk about. It's not something I should burden you with'

She gave me a stern look, then pushed up her pillows and sat up against them. She patted her lap, inviting me to put my head there. 'Come here and tell momma. Nothing you tell me goes beyond these walls.'

I lay there, with my head in her lap like a child, and poured out my heart. The full story. The hedonistic game of seducing women for sex. How I was loving the sex and having a lot of fun, with no strings or complications and how it was working out really well... until Frida. With tears in my eyes I told her about that heartbreaking morning when I told her that we couldn't have a relationship - a horrible feeling I'd never had before. How Frida had cried, and how heartbroken I still was about hurting her like that. And how I was hoping I could retrieve things with her - until we'd walked past her brother Arne hand in hand..