Ebony And Ivory And Jade

This is my tenth contribution to:

The 750 Word Project 2024

It was hard to know who was the more beautiful. Ha-yoon with her flawless, parchment-white skin and contrasting rose red lips. Or Jamila with her meticulous, geometric cornrows and startling azure eyes. The Korean or the African American girl. As for me? Well, white, blonde, and blue-gray eyed. Pretty quotidian. The shortest of the three, and the least womanly.

Either of the other girls would have been a catch. Enough to keep me dreamily occupied for long, languorous, sensuous hours. But both? How had I won the lottery? Alcohol I guess. Alcohol and contemporaneous break-ups. Solace in shots and in talking shit about our exes.

On bar stools. Me in denim short shorts, and a bright pink halter top. Jamila wearing a pale yellow summer dress, her full breasts pushing against straining buttons. Ha-yoon with a cute rah-rah skirt and cuter light blue crop top, tight across her braless chest.

We chatted, we laughed, we clinked glasses, and downed drinks. We put hands on arms, we touched thighs with finger-tips, we rubbed shoulders. And post-split, sisterly solidarity metamorphosed into surging, sapphic attraction. Turned into public kisses, drawing disapproving glances from others, and guilt-free, gleeful giggles from us. It was time to move on.

Inhibitions lowered, we left the bar. Jamila's apartment was closest and her roommate out of town. It was a no brainer. And soon a no clother. It was Summer and none of us had been wearing that much to start with. We exchanged heated kisses as hands rolled straps off of shoulders, unzipped shorts, undid dress buttons, eased off skirts.

We conjoined to create a multi-limbed creature of the sensual realm. My lips around Jamila's soft, full areola, while she and Ha-yoon explored each other's mouths. Ha-yoon's hand stroking my butt, as I slipped mine between Jamila's legs. Jamila's fingers finding my left nipple, squeezing promoting squealing.

Then some silent accord reached between the other two, and I'm firmly pushed onto my back. Jamila's coffee-colored thighs astride my face. Ha-yoon getting comfortable between my legs. Dew drips delightfully from Jamila's inner pinkness as she pulls her petals wide. I tentatively taste her nectar as Ha-yoon's tongue finds my little tower and her fingers my own dripping opening.

Jamila sinks onto my face and my taut tongue slides into her savory sleeve. Ha-yoon's digits are just as deep in me. Jamila's groin grinding on me, I raise a hand and find a button to push. She groans as she gyrates, my tongue her axel. Ha-yoon's digital deftness mirrors my own actions and her sweet stimulation has me bathe her fingers. Easing their insistent in and out.

Breathing hard now. My mewling muffled by Jamila's hot flesh as she too vocalizes her soaring sensations. Ha-yoon is talking to me as she doubles the frequency of her invading oscillations. Such a potty mouth for so sweet a girl. Of course I am her nasty slut. And Jamila's too.

Ha-yoon moves up, her fingers still in me. Jamila lifts and turns to face her. Their mouths meet as mine is pressed against Jamila's sweaty, soft skin. I feel Jamila begin to twitch as my tongue probes her depths. I lick further back, then push a finger-tip against her tightness, and in it slips. I feel her tremble at the double penetration. Ha-yoon senses Jamila's closeness and now attacks my loins so rapidly, catching me up to her.

My own heat rises past control and sends pulsing palpitations through my excited nerves, muscles clenching, stars exploding. And Jamila too releases roaringly and without restraint, flooding my face with her pent primal passion.

For seconds we shakingly recover from shared satiation. Then Jamila and I turn tiger-like to Ha-yoon's unmet needs. My mouth and teeth to her swelling breasts topped with erect towers, Jamila's tongue to her most intimate opening. Our own earthquakes still subsiding, we send new tremors through our prone friend. A titillating tag-team. And she surrenders shudderingly to my bites and Jamila's tongue thrust deeply. Ha-yoon shrieks and shivers as her body crashingly convulses. Her back arched, fountaining freely.

And we hold. Trembling. Painting. Hearts racing. Stroking skin. Touching lips. Recuperating. Relaxing. Luxuriating in our ecstatic, orgiastic afterglows.

But not yet spent. Closeness yields returning desire. As yet unmet appetites. The need for such scintillating sweetness again. Fingers that had caressed, begin to explore, to tease. Tongues meet tongues. The fire is rekindled, and once more we plunge into each other, craving the pulsing perfection of sweet sapphic sensuality.