Phoebe's After Hours

Mr. Fly, my ex-husband, is a very successful business man so when he and I parted ways a couple of years ago he was very generous with regard to our divorce decree. We had no children and I hated the condo we lived in so we were both very agreeable to him keeping the beach front condo and me taking the three bed room, two-car garage house in suburbia.

When we met I was a hair dresser, and I am that again now that I have regained my independence. There was enough cash in the settlement for me to remodel the garage into a very classy beauty parlor. Being debt-free allowed me to be very selective in my clientele, and the neighborhood in which I lived provided an excellent market of modestly wealthy housewives always in search of different ways to make themselves look better. Some of them I could help.

Tonight I was expecting a new client. Wanda Roundtree was a very successful business executive who had already made her mark in Corporate America. The demanding schedule she maintained in order to achieve her goals was one of the reasons she sought out my shop for her grooming needs.

Her appointment was for eight o’clock in the evening, and she was very grateful to find someone who would accommodate her at that late hour.

I was been relaxing in the salon after my 6:00 PM appointment when the doorbell sounded. I looked at my watch – 7:55 PM. This girl is punctual. I shifted my braless boobs into place, and zipped up the front of my uniform. My breasts are large enough that freedom from time to time is a luxury. I opened the door and saw a tall, shapely, fashionably dressed brunette standing on the door mat.

“Wanda?” I asked.

“And you must be that angel, Phoebe,” Wanda said smiling beautifully. “I’m so glad you decided to take me at this hour. Nothing downtown stays open past six o’clock, and I seldom end my day before seven.”

“As you can see,” I said in my friendliest tone, “this is not only my business, but also my home. I have no hours carved in stone for either.”

“Doesn’t your husband object to these hours?” Wanda asked.

“What husband?”

“Oh. I see,” Wanda said and waited for me to choose a new topic for conversation. Meanwhile she peeled off her finely tailored jacket and tossed it on a chair.

“You have excellent taste in clothes,” I commented as an opening for a new conversation.

“Why, thank you,” Wanda countered politely, and noticing that my uniform was zipped up only halfway which exposed a considerable cleavage, “and so do you, I might add.” The women made eye contact briefly before Wanda continued. “Where do you want me?”

I led my new customer to the back of the shop and motioned toward the shampoo chair. “Park it,” I said good-naturedly over my shoulder as I returned to the front of the shop to make sure the door was locked securely.

“Since we are the only two here,” Wanda observed, “do you mind if I remove this blouse so I won’t get it messed up?”

“Please do,” I said. “If you look closely, I have already shed my bra for the day. I feel much better.”

“I did notice,” Wanda said, “and you look comfortable and alluring.”

“It’s been a while since anyone has called me alluring,” I said laughingly.

“People should do it often,” Wanda commented. “You have a lovely face, and those knockers look edible.” Wanda was smiling pleasantly, but there was also an air of seriousness in her tone.

“I’ll bet you hear that all the time,” I said eying Wanda’s majestic mounds as she spoke.

“Oh, I do,” she said, “but in my position you never know if the observation is sincere or not. I have a bunch of ass kissers on my payroll.”

“Well,” I said in a slightly naughty tone, “if it is done properly and with pure intent, I don’t see much wrong with that gesture, do you?”

“Phoebe, you hussy,” Wanda affectedly, “I didn’t picture you as a philosopher. Of course, the point you made is absolutely correct, but alas, I’m afraid there is no one of that ilk in my circle of acquaintances. I’m careful not to get very attached with people with whom I collaborate. It’s too risky.”

“God,” I gasped half-heartedly, “I’m glad my life is simple and carefree.”

“I envy you that, girl. I truly do.”

“Lean back over the basin, love. We’re going to make this mop of hair look beautiful.”

Wanda’s eyes were closed, but she didn’t have to see to know that her new-found friend was joshing. The warm water felt amazingly relaxing as it coursed through her long black hair and that was nice, but she also felt a more exciting sensation as I leaned across her upper body to thoroughly lather shampoo into her dripping locks. The sensation Wanda was feeling was my half naked boobs pressing against her half naked boobs. Electric is the best word to describe this situation.

I was busy scrubbing the shampoo into Wanda’s scalp when I couldn’t help but notice she was breathing unusually heavy. “You okay?” I asked.

“Yes and no,” Wanda said with bated breath. “Those knockers of yours are turning me on something fierce, Phoebe. I don’t want to embarrass you, but do you mind if I release them and kiss them?”

“I don’t think there would be anything nicer,” I replied in a husky voice. “Only thing, though,” I added.

“What’s that?”

“I want yours out in the open as well. I’ve been imagining what they look like un-harnessed ever since you removed your jacket.”

“I don’t want to stop at your breasts, Phoebe.”

“Then don’t,” I responded still using my husky tone.

Wanda raised her upper body effortlessly, and just as easily unsnapped her bra. I countered by unzipping my uniform its full length, and dropping it to the floor beside the shampoo bowl. I was in my panties.

Wanda cupped my nearest breast and moved it to her mouth where she lavished it with her tongue and her lips. I was on fire.

Since my divorce, the only sexual encounters I had experienced were with my Japanese helper, Aiko. She is skilled enough and satisfying enough to convince me that I had been looking for sexual relief in the wrong places. Women were much better lovers than men.

I leaned against Wanda as she titillated my breasts and nipples with a skill I had never before known. Instinctively, I cradled one of her ample breasts in my hand and kneaded the soft flesh gently but with authority. We were both panting and moaning at each other’s touch. I wanted so badly to get my mouth on her tit, but before I realized what was happening she had worked her free hand down my body, skillfully pushed the crotch of my panties aside, and slipped two of her long slender fingers into my flooded pussy.

I moaned with pleasure at this most intimate touch. I moved my hand toward her waist.

Wanda sense my intentions, and raising her hips free of the shampoo chair, rolled her skirt up to her waist. At the same time I was sliding her panties toward her ankles. She lowered her butt and raised her legs to free her panties. She was as hot as me. Two overly aroused voluptuous nude females except for her skirt and my panties.

Wanda freed her mouth from my breasts and growled hoarsely, “Bite my boob, Phoebe.” She gasped for air, and then continued. “Suck my nipple, squeeze my breasts, do anything you desire. Make me come.”

She was hotter than I thought, but she had kindled a fire in my crotch that would take more than water to douse. I could still feel her lips and tongue on my breast. I not too gently slid two fingers into her pussy as deeply as they would reach. She liked it. I liked it.

“Phoebe,” she managed through heavy breathing. “Please eat my pussy. Please,” she begged, “before I explode.”

I was more than willing; however, this was going to take some planning. Her fingers were still blissfully embedded in my snatch, and she was deftly but tenderly massaging my clitoris with her thumb. I was so turned on I couldn’t think clearly. In desperation, I added two fingers to those already in Wanda’s pussy, and I pressed my thumb against her clitoris. All four of my fingers were securely embedded in her snatch as I massaged her clitoris.

Unknowingly, I had triggered the right buttons for this marvelous female fuck machine. She literally howled as she entered into her climax. I could feel her pussy grappling with my fingers as she pumped spasm after spasm of juices into my hand. She was pumping her snatch against the hand that had given her so much joy, and she offered me a very aroused nipple mounted atop a beautiful breast.

I immediately covered her nipple and as much breast as I possibly could with my mouth, and used my tongue to massage the passion inflamed nipple perched at the summit. This action caused her to increase the attention she was paying to my pussy. She pushed her fingers deeper into my pussy and added numbers three and four. Her thumb never left its place on my clit.

The excitement surrounding Wanda’s climax was so intense that we both overlooked the advent of my orgasm. Had her arousal and celebration of her own climatic event not been so intense, she would have noticed that her hand was saturated with my juices, my face was flushed from my own orgasm, and I had quiet naturally increased the passion with which I plied my sexual charms to her body.

We almost simultaneously eased our hands out of each others’ snatches while paying no attention at all to the juices running down our legs. More accurately in Wanda’s case, her juices were trailing along the crack of her ass and onto the seat of the shampoo chair.

“Let’s rinse all of this shampoo out of my hair,” Wanda suggested hoarsely, “and wrap me in towels.” She paused as I collected my faculties and moved to her head. “By the way, girl, I still want you to eat my pussy. I can do my own hair if it is absolutely necessary, but I would play hell trying to stick my own tongue in my pussy.”

“If you ever try that, Wanda,” I said maintaining the humor of the moment, “I want to watch.” Both of us laughed at that remark.

Wanda glanced at her watch and put her hand to her cheek in mock surprise. “We’ve used up most of this evening playing with each others’ pussies, Phoebe.” She looked at me with disappointment on her face.

“How are you at math?” I asked. “Being a business whiz, you should be a pro.”

“What does math have to do with eating pussy?” Wanda asked soberly.

“I was thinking in terms of position 69,” I explained. “You see I want my pussy eaten as well, and this way we can kill two birds with one stone..”

“I like the way you think,” Wanda said displaying a broad grin on her face. “And, by the way,” she added, “when it comes to that kind of math I am an expert.”

I went to the sofa and retrieved two large thro pillows. “Top or bottom?” I asked.

“One then the other,” Wanda replied casually as she slinked over to the Persian rug spread in front to the sofa. She lay back on the rug and placed one of the pillows under her head. Without a word, she lifted her hips from the rug and waited for me to place the second pillow beneath them

“Saddle up,” she ordered.

I straddled her head and lowered my crotch until I felt her hands on my hips. Then I leaned forward, and while latching on to her lifted thighs, I buried my face in the magic of her valley. We were both at a stage of arousal where our vulvas were swollen to the max. Our mouths touched each others’ pussies almost simultaneously.

Next was a contest of who could penetrate the other deepest with a tongue. I was getting hotter than a firecracker, and I could tell by Wanda’s efforts to push her pussy through my face that she was equally aroused. I also learned that her tongue was longer than mine, or that she knew how to use hers better. Body heat was at an all time high as were the muffled moans and groans of pure ecstasy.

I moved my tongue from her pussy hole to her clitoris. Almost as if this encounter was choreographed Wanda followed my lead close behind. It didn’t surprise me at all when she inserted 2 or 3 fingers in my pussy almost at the same time that I slipped 2 and then 4 fingers into her begging pussy. Our mouths and pussies were rather full, but the two of us managed to chorus blissful response to sport at hand.

Wanda squealed with delight when she felt the forefinger from my free hand ease into her asshole. Of course, I squealed with joy when her finger penetrated mine. A spectator would have marveled at the moaning and groaning, and heavy breathing rising from my Persian rug. The fact that two practically nude voluptuous women were glistening with perspiration was not to be overlooked either.

Suddenly, Wanda, a much larger woman than me, lifted my butt and put it to rest on the edge of the sofa. My head was still snuggly nestled between her legs, but my body was at a forty-five degree angle to the floor. Wanda was now eating my pussy off of a mantle, so to speak. It was unusual, but I like it. This new venue prompted me to invigorate my attention to her sexual charms. We worked so well together. Obviously, we performed well as a tandem act. Once again we managed to encourage our orgasmic endeavors to explode vivaciously within seconds of each other.

I put Wanda’s wet hair in rollers while we basked in the soothing comfort of my hot tub. Wanda returned the favor with my hair and surprised me with her natural talent in this area. She had another surprise for me as a parting gesture. She had me bend over the rim of the hot tub face down with my butt hanging high. She spread my cheeks wide, and without ceremony buried her long, rigid tongue in my asshole and work it around vigorously. I thought I was going to come again, but I didn’t.

Wanda is a regular at Phoebe’s Parlor late Thursday evenings now. Sometimes she even gets her hair done.