Neiman Marcus - Tyson’s Corner, Virginia

Hard light shaded London Lloyd as she grasped the pull on the back zipper of her skirt. The black gabardine pencil skirt fell to the floor, and she didn’t even bother to tidy its crumpled position. She lifted the hem of Judy’s dress to her waistline, pressed her against the locked door of the ladies’ room, and wedged her thigh in Judy’s cut for a good grinding.

London recognized that Chanel, Cartier, and Dior were all present; their scents lingered, danced, and intertwined with the musky aroma leaking from Judy’s v. The swirling mixture of the come-fuck-me bouquet was quite the aphrodisiac for London. She dipped her hand down in between Judy’s legs and returned her fingers to her tongue to taste the warm honey. The arousal made London’s movements more urgent and precise.

She was not in a place for newsy-dialogue. She was ready to fuck.

“Are you going to leave him?” Judy moaned as she dragged her v. up and down London’s naked thigh.

“I don’t know,” London returned as she tasted, licked, and nibbled on the MAC-red -covered lips of her lover.

“I want to know what’s going on with you and Cameron.”

“Fuck me and shut up!” London blurted matter-of-fact-like.

“Tell me why you’re buying every Louboutin we shelve. Tell me now.”

London pressed her thigh into Judy’s snatch with rigid force, “That...is all you need to know right now.”

London placed her mouth over Judy’s, located her tongue, and sucked out any further inquiry. She released her passionate squirming member just long enough to issue out a command.

“Take your clothes off!”

“What? I’m at work!”

“Judy, take your clothes off.”

Judy complied. She was five-foot eight inches tall, a nice complement to London’s five-foot nine inches. Judy was a deep Godiva dark chocolate princess. Her looks were straight off the runways of New York Fashion week. Judy rolled her charcoal elastic dress down the length of her athletic frame, exposing her matching charcoal bra. London reached behind Judy and assisted her by popping the clasps that held her round DD-cup mounds. Her nipples protruded a good inch from her bistre-shaded quarter-size areolas. They were unusual, and her nips were London’s favorite part of her body.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this at my...”

“Uh huh,” London pulled her in close, slid the crotch of Judy’s thong to the side of her pussy, and dipped her finger back into her honey who-hah. She dipped then grazed her index finger along Judy’s slit. She dipped and grazed; that was the pattern.

“Mmm, fuck,” Judy bucked her hips against London’s magical finger strokes.

London removed her finger, bent down, caught the underside of Judy’s knee in the bend of her arm, and pushed Judy’s leg back to reveal her pulsating lady-box. London spread her legs and smashed her vulva in Judy’s pussy. She pushed and grinded; Judy reciprocated and countered with rotary movements and multiple thrusts.

The skin-on-skin-rumba they danced coalesced into a sticky sweaty slick that became the third lover in the mix. Slippery snatch liquid slid down their swollen labia flaps and tickled their thighs. The slick’s tang wafted and moved the women to the edge of no return.

They dragged their pussies across thighs, vulvas, and clits.

“Ah, yes. Mmhmm.”

“Fuck,” Judy’s bum knocked and beat the door. Anyone in a stall would have assumed that someone was rapping on the door to get into the toilet.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Judy’s arse hit the door harder after each subsequent contact with London’s pussy.

“Cum for me Jude.” London plunged three fingers back in Judy’s v, and she instantly gained a glove from her goddess-grog.

Judy jounced and gyrated her muscle-toned hips against London’s grazes and dips until her inside vaginal walls clenched, imploded, and spasmed in ecstasy. She bumped and knocked against the door, and her snatch dripped streams of crystalline syrup.

“Oh fuck!”

“Yea, yea,” London moaned and pumped her fingers to make Judy’s orgasm last a little longer. She kissed the rouge stain around Judy’s face, and drove her tongue against Judy’s lips.

London walked to the sink and washed her cum-soaked hands. She returned to the door where she bent down and retrieved her crumpled skirt, slid it over her hips, zipped it, and went to the mirror to fix her face. She ran her fingers through her coffee colored bobbed hair, and reapplied her lipstick. Without a word, London left Judy spent on the sofa in the ladies’ room. She continued the shopping binge meant to get back at her cheating husband, Cameron.

One hour later in dresses, London sent the following text to Judy.

“My house at 8:00...Yoni massage for two”

~~~~~

London perused the dress selection for something gorgeous to try on, and she wondered how her twenty-five year marriage with Cameron landed in the current blaze of a hellhole. Although it was boiling hot, the temperature paled in comparison to the inferno that surrounded their initial meeting, their relationship, and their decision to marry.

She met him at the law offices of Franklin, Lloyd, & Watkins . He was fresh out of law school, and she was slinging a summer job as a clerk for her father’s colleague, Watkins. Cameron was twenty-five; she was twenty. She filed and pulled files all day; he researched legal documents and searched the female specimens all day. She was black; he was white. They met in the general file room where innocent hellos, blushing grins, and quivering tummies led to daily coffee trips, Wednesday lunches, Saturday late-night dinners, and Sunday brunches. By the end of the summer, they were an item with a baby on the way.

Unfortunately, his father, the Lloyd in Franklin, Lloyd, & Watkins, wasn’t open to interracial relationships let alone mixed shot-gun marriages. He was particularly opposed to his heir, his son, and his only male child marrying out of race. Cameron’s father wasn’t a bigot per se; however, he had strong feelings against the mixing of his family with other races.

Cameron’s father, John Cameron Lloyd marched for civil rights, protested the injustices of racism, and lobbied for the first black partner of the firm: Watkins .

But he detested the relationship between London and his son. It pained him to see his only son marry a black woman. His lineage would be impure in his eyes, forever; this made John bitter.

With great reluctance, John attended their wedding, but he was not happy, not then. It would take the sight of his grandchildren, John III and a pair of adorable identical twin girls to change his archaic viewpoint...to change his heart.

In love, Cameron and London trudged through their circumstances and planned the rest of their lives with the consideration and wisdom they forgot the night London got pregnant. But they never planned on losing the passion and love of that got them through the difficult times.

Again, they were seeing some difficult times.

London never thought she’d be excused and banished from Cameron’s offices. She never thought he would choose another black woman over her. She never thought she would meet his mistress, Natalie.

Natalie 

Natalie arrived home around 11:45 am. She was hungry and horny. As soon as her feet crossed the threshold of her condominium, she dropped her bags, kicked her pumps off, and inched out of her skinny jeans. The denim was a little rough on her freshly waxed v. Her arse was naked; she’d gone commando.

For two years, Natalie was Cameron’s jump-off/side-piece/mistress-bitch unknowingly. Not only did she find out that he was having cyber-sex with her supposed-friend-Lauren, but she came to know that he was married with three grown children. He lied to her about every aspect of his life for the duration of their relationship. She came face-to-face with his wife, London, the night prior. One would believe that there was a lesson or two to gain from the revelation and the encounter.

According to Maya Angelou , “when you know better, you do better.”

Natalie failed to learn Dr. Angelou’s words; she remained in a holding pattern, because she just didn’t get it. At this point, Natalie didn’t care. There was something intriguing, something of Velcro -quality, and something so naughty about Cameron that disabled and dismantled her normal, smart, sassy sensibilities. Natalie was an intelligent woman; she was a tax attorney. She met Cameron while working on a case. She was immediately mesmerized; he had something indescribable. That ‘something’ disabled Natalie’s ability to do better. That ‘something’ was about to lead her down a path of cyber sex she never experienced before.

Natalie took the entire day off from work. She spent the better part of the morning getting her kitten buffed and waxed for Cameron. Then she went to a sex shop and made a few purchases. She was glad to be in her Georgetown condominium relaxing and awaiting Cameron’s next instruction.

She reached in her bag and pulled out the three boxes of Icicles: #18, #29, and #26 . They were two glass dildos and a butt plug. She got everything on ‘the list’ Cameron gave her after the tit fuck and scolding for her v-bush-hair. Natalie removed all three from their boxes and cleaned them thoroughly. As she rinsed Icicle #18, she ran her hand across the strong curve and the series of blue bumps on the shaft; she imagined what Cameron would have her do with this toy. Although she had a vibrator, they never played with toys before, not together at least.

Natalie settled in her large brown leather chair, rubbed her hair-free vulva, and ran her fingertips along her pussy lips. The tickle caused a trickle of syrup, and her breath quickened. Her thoughts about the possibilities led her to sample Icicle #18 .

She twirled the cold glass tip in her slippery slit. For months, Cameron failed her in the arena of pussy penetration, because of his cyber activities, and because of her wild thicket of a mons. So, the initial press in was met with much resistance. The chilly bulbous head knocking at her entrance made her body tingle from her nipples to her toes.

Natalie formed a ‘v’ with her index and middle fingers to massage her weeping wings. She peeled her lips open to expose her rosebud; she avoided a direct touch, continuing to knead and push into the fatty swollen flesh of her pussy. She massaged then pushed the glass knob further into her snatch.

The glass was cold and the blue bumps scratched itches that Natalie didn’t even know existed. As she pressed the toy in further, the curve caused the head to land directly on her g-spot. She gasped and began a sawing-movement in and out of her pussy. The coldness of the glass quickly became warm. Her thrusts opposed the plunges. Natalie closed her eyes and drilled her hole, pumping the glass back and forth until her hand was a blur.

She clenched the glass with her v walls and released; she clenched and released again. She gave her bud three quick direct swipes, and then she exploded.

“Oh, damn!”

Natalie heard the buzzing hum of her phone. She picked it up and read a text from Cameron.

“Air and Space Museum, D.C. at 2:30. Wear your headset and have your tablet ready to Skype.”

Natalie returned the text, “Why do we need Skype?”

“I need to see what you’re doing.”

“I’m confused.”

“No doubt.”

“Fuck you, Cameron.”

“You’re meeting a friend of mine.”

“Who?”

“Let you know at 2:30. Pack all the toys and be on time. Wear an easily accessible skirt with no panties and no bra.”

“What? Tell me who I’m meeting.”

“No.”

 “Fuck you.”

“Whatever... Be on time Natalie.”

Neiman Marcus

Naked, Judy picked her charcoal dress, shoes, and undergarments off the floor and scurried into a stall to dress. She didn’t go, but she flushed the loo anyhow. She went to the sink to wash her hands, and glared in the mirror at her disheveled appearance.

“OMG!”

Running mascara, smudged lipstick, and a crazy tangled humpy clump in the back of her hair...It was bad. Nevertheless, she got it together enough to go to her locker and retrieve her cosmetic bag to make the necessary repairs to her face. When she picked up the bag, her phone was humming. It was a text.

“Smithsonian Air and Space Museum in D.C. at 2:30 today...Be on time.”

“Shit! Not today!”

Judy returned the text, “Okay.”