Snapshots #01

The music and laughter behind me vanished as if a mute button had been pressed when I saw her alone, leaning against the railing of the balcony. The thought that captured me was: "I want to be alone with you..."

She was tall, skinny but sinewy in her white and navy jersey and "Seven" jeans; her skin was smooth mahogany; her hair a tight black cap on her narrow head. Dear brown-eyes watching the curl of crashing waves.

I had felt her eyes on me when I first entered the party. Eyes both brash and shy as they traveled from my face framed by unruly strawberry blonde hair, across my shoulders, over the overabundance of my breasts; pausing at my bare midriff; the tiny crescent Moon belly ring twinkling; and finally down the flow of my gypsy skirt that flattered my hips and hid my stocky legs. I had felt her eyes...

Kisses and hugs from the hostess and her effusive partner. A pleasant cry from across the room, and hands herding me to a couch. An old flame, now old friend, smiling at me and saying, "Sit! I've been thinking about you!"

I sat and spoke and laughed, but I was thinking about another woman's eyes...

She turned her head, looked at me, at the two flutes of champagne in my hands, and took one while saying, "Thanks, I'm Deka."

I wanted to say, "No, your name is Lilith, Black goddesses of the Moon, and I am wearing your token," or something equally, floridly, idiotic. Wisely, I only said as I raised my glass to my lips, "I'm Cassie."

We were silent; but not awkwardly. I gazed out at the night, and she looked back and forth; from the sea to me. Sometimes it takes days, weeks, months; sometimes it only takes a wondrous moment. A time, a woman who makes my pulse race, makes my eyes shine with desire. That moment...

Her lips finally moved I thought, but she said nothing. I stared out at the water and whispered, "Would you like to come home with me?" The silence made my face hot. I may be a hippie dyke, but I never was that free with either my body or my love. She took the empty champagne flute from my hand and turned me to her. God yes there was a smile on her lips! She bent her head to me, my face lifted up, our mouths met. No tongue plunging, no gasping, only a kiss. The warm crush of her lips on me. My skin prickled, and the small of my back tingled, and my breasts honest to god throbbed with need. Only a kiss...

We left hand in hand, ignoring the parting smiles, the wry grins. Two endless blocks to my studio. The joke of fumbling with the keys at my door. Inside, her look exclusively at my bed: A frame of wildly rhapsodic iron curves with a spread of vibrant, contrasting colors -- a bed that promised...

She kissed me. Her hands on my waist, red-brown beautiful on pink cream. My sandaled feet going up on tiptoes, arms rising to hang around her neck. Her lips like ripe figs, my lips opening, welcoming, craving. Her tongue making sailing, swirling motions inside my mouth; devastating.

She moved me backward onto the bed with a sureness that excited me as much as her continuing kiss. She only stopped to help me pull off my top and undo my bra. Her hands splayed on me; cupping a breast in each hand, her fingers reddened my nipples – the tips of her fingers were fine sandpaper over the pebbled tips. My moan in her mouth made her lean body shudder against me. She broke away, pulling her shirt over her head. No bra, her breasts two small, sweetly curved mounds with chocolate nipples. As she struggled to tug off her tight jeans and plum colored boyshorts, I nervously unwrapped my skirt; hoping to be a present she wouldn't forget. She stopped my hands on my panties, "Let me," she said huskily.

Lying back, I lifted my hips. Merely her sure hands sliding my panties down made me shiver. I expected her to grin, but she instead she saw my wetness, my flowering need, and breathed a long drawn "ohhhh," and her head was there, where I wanted her...

Her lips against me, her tongue snaking, lapping, rasping, cuffing gently at my swollen pearl. Her hands holding my hands, gripping them tightly. I looked down at her, black curls buried in my blonde ones, and lost myself in the love of it all. Then her tongue shifted, found the way into me, and glided upward, deep inside, finding the rough goddess spot. I tipped my hips and mewled. Her tongue began to gyrate in slow, powerful circles. I groaned out her name, "Deka, Deka..." She answered with a moan on lips that were mated to my womb; a moan that floated to my pearl as her tongue drove into me. I whimpered into my climax, and whimpered, and whimpered, and whimpered...

She waited until I floated down, and then wafted me back up. Hands on my breasts, short nails scraping on my nipples. Mouth possessing the pink pearl of my clit, humming on me a song of the Nile that caused me to flow a river. Causing a cascade of moans, back arching like a bridge, causing a flooding, blinding, come...

She wrapped herself around me. Her fine-drawn thigh between my thick ones, her long arms enveloping me, my rich breasts on her svelte chest, her full dark lips on my thin pale lips. She rode and rocked me, she rocked against me – my thigh so wonderfully pressed into the wet haven of her cleft - Oh God was there anything so good? There was, the sound of my name when she screamed it out of her, when she held me so hard to her, when she felt the glory, when it felt it with me.

Black on white, passion on desire. She had me until morning, she had me as long as she wanted me...