I'm Saffra Jenkins. I'm a real estate agent in Eatondale, Canada. I have been married to my husband Mark for 15 years, and we have a son named Jeffrey. Although most of my business takes place in the downtown of Eatondale, we actually live in suburbs.
I grew up here; so living here and being able to connect with old friends was a great experience. Mark and I both work, and our son is just getting to the age where he wants to have sleepovers with his friends instead of hanging out with his boring Mom and Dad.
We have a strong family bond, and I love my husband and son very much, but I have always had yearnings that I couldn't satisfy on my own. I have always been attracted to women- specifically, to other black women...
If I meet a woman with cocoa skin and a slim body, I naturally gravitate to her. If she has large breasts, I'll be locked in. I am also an attractive Ebony woman, so I tend to like women who have a similar look to myself.
Makes me think that perhaps I'm in love with myself?
I guess I'm just wired that way.
I know that I am a bisexual, but I have never acted on it. I was always worried about someone finding out, or dealing with the risks and dangers of hooking up anonymously.
Mark was always okay with the idea of having a threesome that included another woman, but the timing was never right with our son in the picture. Who wants to have a night of raunchy sex and go home to an impressionable child? These roles were just too fuzzy to keep separate in my mind.
Now I'm 39, successful in my real estate career, with a beautiful home to prove it. When we picked this house, we fell in love with the area. It was like a dream to be able to afford a home on streets lined with 100 year old trees.
It just so happened that an old friend became my new neighbour. She lived a few doors over and I walked right into her one morning as I was putting our moving boxes at the curbside.
Her: Saffra is that you? It's me! Abra!
I turned to see the stunning Abra Walters (now Fleischmann) standing a few feet away.
We were put together in so many classes, our classmates would say that the school administrators must have been having a joke at our expense. Saffra and Abra the two gorgeous ebony girls who mirrored so many features that people mistook us for sisters.
We had a falling out at the end of high school amid tensions between us. I was going to college 2 hours away from our hometown, while she had plans to leave the country to study abroad. Things were uncomfortable between us for a few months before we said goodbye, but I was so glad that we never had the "blow up" that usually causes people to never speak again.
Running into her brought back so many emotions. Right there in the street we gave each other a big hug and chatted at length; making plans for later that evening to catch up.
I was amazed that Abra was back in my life. The following year was a blur of phone calls, visits, birthday parties between the two families, movie nights; you name it, we did it. I felt like I had my best friend back.
One summer night after the kids had gone to bed, the four of us: Me and my husband with Abra and her husband were finishing our second bottle of wine for the evening. David, Abra's husband, was clearly inebriated and started to ask questions about our past.
David: Hey Saffra, are you the friend of Abra that got caught shoplifting at Canada's Wonderland?
Abra: David! No, that's not her!
Me: I wasn't that friend. I was the one who was always ahead of your wife on the basketball team, the badminton team, the volleyball team... oh and I think I kicked her butt in wrestling too!
David: I do remember now! My wife once said that she was always behind because she thought you had an amazing one. An amazing ass that is.
Abra: David! Be quiet!
David and Mark howled at Abra's reaction. It was as if the two men could see something that I couldn't. I looked at Mark and he looked at Abra with an amused and drunken smile plastered on his face. He shrugged his shoulders and continued to laugh at the joke that I clearly was not "in" on.
Abra lightly punched her husband on the arm and changed the subject. The night concluded soon after and I found myself in bed with Mark staring up at the ceiling as he tossed off his clothing and poured himself into bed.
Me: Honey, what was that joke between you and David all about? The joke he made earlier- I just don't get it
Mark: I'm not entirely sure what he was laughing at to be honest...But I was laughing at how tense Abra got as soon as David started on the topic. I got the impression that she probably has a thing for you, and that David was about to let the cat out of the bag
Mark's comments stayed with me and served to propel a very erotic dream that very night.
In the dream, I could see myself walking into Abra's home and sitting under her dining room table. I sat on my knees like a cat waiting for her to arrive. When she walked into the room, she rang a bell and called out "Here kitty, kitty".
I crawled out from under the table and saw that I was indeed a cat- somehow transformed. When I approached my mistress who was holding the bell, she lifted her apron to reveal a shaved cunt. She expertly used two fingers to spread the lips of her gorgeous black pussy.
I sat there obediently: in the body of a cat, in her dining room, in a very odd dream.
While showing me her cunt, she continued to say "Here kitty" and I obliged by raising up my mouth to take a vicious lick of the flesh being presented to me.
I could almost taste her as I woke up from the dream.
The next time I saw Abra, I was at her home. Upon entering I immediately remembered the dream. I stared at the spot in her dining room where I had licked her, whilst in the body of a cat.
If I had to guess, my somnambulist sexuality took a stroll into revealing a desire for me to have sex with my best friend.
When she came to me at the door Abra could see that I looked distracted. I told her that I had a crazy dream about her the other night, but when she asked for the details I couldn't find the words.
Abra: I just don't see why you would bring it up if you didn't remember the dream.
Me: I do remember. I'm just not going to tell you what happened.
Abra: [Pauses]...just such bad taste...
Me: I don't want to get into the details. It was a dream. Its... weird. Just drop it.
Abra: [Mutters] ...So typical.
Her demeanour was just like old times. Peppery and smoldering with attitude. She always called me on my bullshit. I stopped and turned just as we were about to walk out the front door.
Facing her, she winced as though immediately regretful of her razzing. Looking at Abra was like looking into a more gorgeous image of myself. We really did resemble each other. Her hair was longer, and also worn naturally. Her curl pattern was so sexy- one of those 3C beauties that gets those tiny ringlets...
She looked at me expectantly, because I had just turned around, and stared at her for 2.5 seconds too long without saying anything. I shook my head, turned around, and walked back to the car. I pushed the entire thing out of my mind.
It wasn't until Abra introduced me to two of her book club friends from the neighbourhood that things began to change. Cheyenne and Patricia were the type of beautiful ebony housewives that you see around town, but never get the chance to meet. Pat, as she was known, was a petite former cheerleader for the CFL. She had been married to a guy on the Tiger Cats, but they divorced and she remarried a dentist. Cheyenne was a former athlete as well, but excelled in tennis and was once on the pro circuit. She still worked as an instructor at the Ontario Racquet Club, but mostly took care of her school aged sons who also went to my son's school.
These ladies were so good looking and well groomed. I was in awe of their beauty, and feeling fortunate that they considered me as worthy of their attention and camaraderie. I was definitely attracted to each of them, and coupled with my long standing crush on Abra, I was looking forward to forming a closer bond with these three other women.
We met together regularly- falling into an easy routine. We saw each other at least once per week, and future plans were always being made. Our husbands even made efforts to socialize on occasion as well. Within the second anniversary of moving into the neighbourhood, we had found a place in the hearts of our new friends.
For my 41
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