Chapter 8 - Cha-Cha

Monday deserved a special effort, I felt, since the previous Monday I was tired and unimaginative. I took the time to wind about two-thirds of my hair into a wide braid, leaving the rest to lie where it may, down my back or over my ears, and a few strands loose in the front. There was a maxi-length gypsy-style skirt in blue and green paneling with loops of gold chain at the hem which I'd only worn only once. I paired it with a pale yellow crop top, then added wire flower dangle earrings.

Fall had, well, fallen, and it had been a cool day. Not cold enough for my heavy jacket, but the evening might turn that way, so I slipped it on. I wore flats for driving, but took my medium heels to change into.

Emma and Tiff were present, but Margot and Heather were making preparations for the party at the coffee shop. There wasn't a band playing this week, but they'd still taken one of the tables near the dance floor. Suse and Val hadn't shown up, and Anita wasn't around, though it was still early. She hasn't been around the previous week, which I'd expected at the time, since she'd left my place in the early hours of Monday morning. Now I couldn't help wondering if her absence was connected with the date Margot had mentioned.

I'd half finished my Gold Dragon - yes, Michelle had adopted the name, apparently having spoken to Imani after I'd left the previous week - when I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I turned to meet the dark eyes of Imani herself. "I hoped you'd be here," she said.

"Hey, Imani!" I greeted her enthusiastically. "Join us!" I indicated the remaining chair.

"I'd only come to ask you to dance," she said, "but sure." She looked up at my friends. "Emma and Tiff, right? I'm Imani."

They each briefly held Imani's dark hand. "We met last year, I think," said Tiff. "But if you've come to ask Kayla to dance, I guess I can skip my task for this evening."

Imani's eyebrow rose, and I explained, "Tiff has appointed herself my pi... uh, my recruiter. Her goal in life seems to be to make sure I don't go home alone."

Imani's eyes skimmed my outfit. "That should be an easy goal to achieve," she said.

Tiff smirked. "Not that I'm making any assumptions about what her dancing might lead to," she said. "But if she's out socializing, well," she shrugged, "there's not much for me to do, is there?"

Within a couple of minutes, Tiff, Emma and Imani were animatedly comparing histories, courses and professors they each had, and I took a moment to let my gaze travel over my new friend.

She was wearing a black midi-length tank dress. Its neckline was gathered into a knot below her breasts, forming a deep V with a very intimate view of her high, dark breasts. The back of the dress dipped in a curve, exposing smooth skin around her shoulder blades. Like me, she was wearing heels. Her braids were bound with a black band into a tail, and from each ear dangled three squares of colored glass in a line, connected by their corners, framed in what appeared to be pewter. Each of the glass squares was a different color.

"I've been practicing," Imani was telling Emma.

"Practicing what?" I asked, breaking out of my reverie.

Imani laughed. "You tuned out, didn't you? Cha-cha. I watched YouTube vids and tried the steps in front of the monitor. Which is why I need you to dance with me."

"Oh, right," I said. "Well, if you've all finished gossiping about professors, let's go."

"How quickly they forget after graduation," said Emma. And it was probably true. College felt far behind me. My friends were really my only connection to it.

"We won't wait up for you," said Tiff, hearkening back to my first visit. "Don't lose your shoe, and don't forget that your carriage will turn into a pumpkin on the stroke of twelve."

"Thanks, Mo-o-om," I said, in a whiny tone. "I know all that. Jeez."

Laughing, Imani and I made our way to the dance floor.


"I'm going to lead," Imani announced. I shrugged. She could hardly do worse than I did the previous week. The song was too slow to cha-cha to, but we used it to get familiar with the steps and our positioning. She wasn't Alan, but she'd come a hell of a long way in one week. She was confident and accurate, though we were only doing the basic steps. Using the slower pace, I wiggled my butt - I'm sorry, I mean introduced some hip action - in the right places, while Imani seemed to naturally step that way.

"My God, you really have been practicing," I said, raising my voice just enough for her to hear. "Do you want to try some turns?"

"That's something I couldn't practice," she said. "I don't see how that works. How do I tell you what to do?"

"It's not as hard as it seems. Just move your hand in the direction you want me to go, then release me and trust me to finish." I demonstrated by putting my left hand over her right, pressing her hand to me and turning away. "Or if you want to change direction, a little pressure but don't release me."

The DJ must have seen our efforts again, and the songs switched to a latin block. We were really getting the movements down and beginning to enjoy the silent communication that makes ballroom dancing work, and I was certainly appreciating the proximity of Imani's body. I noticed Alan and Clare taking advantage of the latin sounds in a different corner. I waited for an opportunity to move close, then leaned against her, still following the steps. "Is Clare okay with you not staying together?"

Imani nodded. "She and Alan know what I'm doing. They encouraged me."

She held me in place, my body pressed to hers for several bars, before turning me out and resuming a conventional hold.

When the DJ moved on from latin beats, Imani and I stood together, our arms still around each other's back. "That was fun," I said. "And we were both improving."

"We were gooood, sister," Imani said, drawing the word out to about three syllables. "I think we deserve a break."

I slid my left hand from around her back as I moved away, but caught her right hand and held it as we left the dance floor, not dropping it until we were both seated on bar stools. "Gold Dragon?" I asked Imani, who nodded.

Over our drinks, we talked about how much fun it was to learn actual dances, and how great it would be if someone were to set up a LGBT-friendly dance studio. Maybe they could come to an arrangement with Gabby's. I suggested that Imani could look into it after she graduated. She laughed and shook her head.

When our drinks were mostly done, Imani nodded toward the dance floor entrance. "I'd like to dance some more, but just what I usually do, not counting and steps and being nervous that I get everything right. Will you join me?"

Smiling, I said, "Of course I will. That's my default, too. Until Alan and Danielle the week before last, I'd never tried ballroom dances here. I'm surprised I remember how to do it at all."

This time, Imani reached for my hand, taking my left in her right. We moved back into the corner we'd recently left.

From her freestyle dancing, I could see why Imani's cha-cha moves had seemed so natural. Her entire body was involved in her dance. Sinuous swaying from waist to head, sometimes bringing her arms into the wave, sometimes just having them mark time. Her feet moved with the beat, and often her hips would shake in double time. I could picture her in a short top with gold filigree and veiled skirts, a ruby in her navel, belly dancing. Boy, could I picture it. I was totally not in her league. I don't think I was even playing the same sport. But she didn't care, her eyes and smile making me want to be closer.

When the DJ slowed the pace, I looked at Imani, feeling a little nervous until she took my hands, then drew me in close. We swayed together, breast to breast. She was shorter than me, by maybe a little over an inch, but we were close enough in height that we could each rest our heads on the other's shoulder.

After a couple of minutes, Imani said, "Hey, Kayla? The bartender says it's dangerous to kiss anyone within thirty minutes of drinking her dragon drink, right?"

"Mmhmm," I replied.

"I'm willing to bet," she said, "that the danger is minimal if your partner has been drinking the dragon drink, too."

Imani fell silent. After a few seconds of feeling her body against mine, I said, "Think we should test the theory?"

In answer, Imani pressed her lips to my ear, whispering, "I think we should."

So I raised my face from her neck and brushed my lips against hers. Imani parted her lips, then touched them to mine. I parted mine, too, tasting the touch of her breath on my tongue, feeling the slight waxy surface of her lip color, and beneath it, the softness of her full lips.

I tried to banish my nervousness. This was nothing I hadn't done before, and with a woman I was very much attracted to.

Perhaps Imani was fighting the same battle, because I felt her body soften beneath my arms as she relaxed against me. When she did, I felt a surge of affection for her, and felt myself relax, too. My lips pried hers further apart, then I drew them back a fraction of an inch before meeting hers again, repositioning my face for better contact.

Our kiss began to take on a life of its own as our shared reserve broke down. Fondness, warmth, desire and arousal all grew in me. The surge of emotion made my chest tingle, my heart race and my breath catch. I tried to keep the feelings from my kiss, not wanting to overwhelm her, but some leaked into it anyway, and Imani responded. A soft groan escaped my throat.

Imani drew back. A wave of disappointment passed through me. I'd pushed her away. But she moved her lips to my ear, and whispered, "I want to be somewhere else. With you. Where can we go?"

"My place?" I suggested. "I live alone. Are you driving?"

She nodded.

Taking her hand, I led her out of the dance area. "Do you have a coat? Purse?"

She nodded, and I released her. "Meet you outside," I said, and scurried off to pick up my jacket from Emma's and Tiff's table. I knew I'd have to suffer Tiff's knowing smirk, so I gave her a direct look and rolled my eyes before she could form it. She chuckled and I squeezed her shoulder as I left.

Outside, I slipped my jacket on, then keyed my address into a new message. When Imani joined me, I asked for her number, entered it and pressed send. "Follow me, though, it's an easy drive."

"Yah," she said briefly, as I pointed out my vehicle. I waited to see her lights behind me before I drove home.


I'd taken a hint from Danielle, and picked up a couple of bottles of sparkling white wine from a local chain. I had even less of a clue about sparkling wines than I did normal reds and whites, but the sales person had given me a sample of a Brazilian wine that was delicate, not too dry, and very reasonably priced. I'd decided to keep one ready in the fridge for occasions like this. I opened the bottle and poured two glasses while Imani was still looking around my living room.

She raised her eyebrow at the sight of the glass, smiling as she took it from my hand. She wasn't twenty-one, but I seriously doubted this would be her first experience of wine. "This is good," she announced, after taking a sip. I tried mine, which matched the sample in the store.

Taking Imani's jacket, I hung it and mine in a closet. Imani was looking out through the door to the balcony. It was dark, but the clubhouse at the golf course and its parking lot were well lit, casting light and shadow on the trees between there and here. "I like your view," she said.

Opening the door, I invited her through to the small balcony. The air was too cold to be outside for long in my thin crop shirt, but it was worth it to take in the view. Imani leaned against the wall, and I stood beside her, our shoulders touching. "I like my place," I said. "It's an apartment, it's temporary, but until I'm ready to move on, it's ideal.

Imani nodded, gazing around again. Then she set her wine glass down on the small table, and faced me. With a finger under my chin, she turned my face to hers, then lightly kissed my lips. I gave her a nervous grin, set my glass down beside hers and drew her close.

We began much as we'd left off, lips parted, my heart doing double-time as I felt her soft lips on mine. The outdoor chill was raising goosebumps on my arms, but I didn't care. I moved my hands to Imani's shoulders, holding her against me, while hers were on my bare waist.

It was Imani whose tongue made the first encroachment. She tentatively pushed it between my lips. A surprisingly strong wave of feeling flowed into me, focused on my sex, and I had a suspicion my underwear was becoming damp. I touched my tongue to hers, tasting her. Feeling my response, Imani melted into me, her body pressed to mine, and the kiss became charged with passion. Both of us moaned, and Imani's hands moved up my sides, inside my top, to grip my ribcage.

Without breaking the kiss, I reached for the door handle, slid it open, then propelled Imani backward into the living room. I pulled the door closed, then yanked at the cord beside it, which drew a curtain across the glass.

Imani's hands moved higher, lifting my top. I crossed my arms, grabbed the front and tugged it over my head, then lobbed it in the general direction of the couch.

Wrapping my arms around Imani, I hunted the zipper I'd seen in the center of the back of her dress. It parted smoothly, the dress losing tension. I raised my hands to the straps, drew them aside, letting them slide down her arms. She moved her hands away from me, allowing the straps to continue their descent, and the fabric pooled on the floor with a soft whisper.

The dress must have had built-in support, as its collapse revealed full, high breasts. Her nipples and areolae seemed a midnight blue against her rich umber skin.

I stepped back to look at her. Her normally dark eyes seemed black with desire, the long pewter earrings framing high cheeks, wide nose and a smile on her full, dark lips that suddenly seemed a little shy. She wore nothing but a dark blue thong, the earrings and her medium heels.

I hadn't even intended to say, "God, you're so beautiful." It just started to slip out, and I had to finish it.

Her lips parted to show white teeth, shyness banished. "You're not so bad," she said, "but you really need to be naked for me to judge."

She stooped to unfasten her heels, then carried them and her dress to the couch. I nodded to the bedroom door. "In there," I said, raising my skirt to step out of my heels. "I'll be right behind you.

Stopping by the kitchen, I picked up a small bowl, then took the ice tray out of the freezer, removed the lid and twisted it to free some of the small frozen balls. Then I set the tray back in the freezer and took my bowl to the bedroom, setting it on the nightstand.

Imani was sitting on the bed. I slipped off my glasses, placing them on the nightstand, then drew her to her feet to continue kissing. God, she was good at kissing. We were good at kissing, each silently communicating massive desire.

It can't have been a minute before I felt her fingers working on my bra. I lowered my arms so that she could take off the straps, and let it lie on the floor where it fell. Feeling her bare breasts rolling against mine, her nipples pressing into me, ramped up my arousal, and I moved my hands to her ribs, feeling the start of the swell of her breasts against the bases of my thumbs. I felt her fumbling around for the side catch of my skirt. I would have helped, but I was so intoxicated by the feel of her skin below my hands that I didn't want to release her.

She found the catch, and my skirt slid to the floor.

Imani eased me back away from her. Her gaze sliding over my body was a physical thing. I could feel where her eyes rested. Her grin was broad. "I'll upgrade 'not bad' to 'very fine'," she said. Then she reached behind her head, pulled off the band confining her braids, and shook them out. My heart skipped again at the sight of her, face framed in braids, firm breasts quivering.

"Thank you," I said, and we kissed again, our entire bodies in contact, skin against skin. I shivered slightly at the thought of being with this girl, and of what I wanted to do to her.

I moved Imani back until she was against the bed, then told her to lie down. She did as instructed, and I lowered myself onto her, kissing her neck and earlobe as she wrapped her legs around me, seeking to hold me close. My sex was damp with arousal, and I wasn't certain that it was all mine as she drew her pussy against me.

I kissed her hard on the lips, our tongues joining, until I felt Imani moan. Then I drew back. "I want you to lie still," I said.

Imani's eyebrow rose, but she didn't object. I raised her hands over her head. "No helping," I said. She just smiled at me.

Carefully, I eased myself off her body, then squatted beside her. Reaching into the bowl, I picked up one of the ice spheres. Imani frowned. Her body jerked as I touched it to her left nipple. "That's cold!"

"I know," I said, rolling it around the tip of her breast. Her nipple had swelled at the touch of ice, her areola puffing out. Now it swelled further, and I circled my thumb and forefinger around the slick surface of the nipple, holding the sphere against her breast with my other hand.

Gradually I worked the lube over her breast and into my hand. Her nipple was as firm as rubber now, and my thumb and finger were drawing out soft sounds of arousal. Her eyes had turned black again, and her lips were parted. Parted so temptingly, in fact, that I needed to taste them. But first I transferred the ice ball to my left hand.

Lowering my face to hers, I began to explore her mouth with my tongue. Imani's body twitched below me as I cupped her right breast with my left hand, the ice trapped between my palm and the pliant surface beneath it. I brought my right hand to the slick, cool surface of her left breast, caressing her nipple with my fingers and thumb.

Imani moaned softly, until I backed away, grinning down at her. I've mentioned how hard I found it to read her expressions. This time I had no difficulty at all in seeing the wanton need on her face. "What are you doing to me?" she murmured. "I am so turned on now."

There was still enough of the sphere in my left hand to keep up the slippery massage for several minutes, so I left my hand where it was. Taking another ice ball, I drew it around her left breast, following with my tongue. For several minutes I licked her breast, staying at least a half inch away from her nipple, occasionally rolling the ball around to refresh the lube and chill her flesh.

Imani's chest was rising high as her breathing deepened. I lifted my face, lowering my mouth to hers, but instead of kissing her lips, I sucked her lower lip into my mouth and toyed with it. She shivered

When I drew back, I licked her upper lip. She immediately extended her tongue to meet mine, and I licked her tongue, then engaged in a half minute tongue duel with her, before I closed my lips around her tongue and suckled.

"Mmmh!" Imani groaned, then wrapped her arms around my head and tried to pull me closer.

Resisting, I drew my head far enough back to escape her hold. "Nuh-uh," I objected. "Hands above your head." She sighed and returned her hands to where they'd been. I granted her a short but very intense kiss before returning to my work.

Again avoiding her nipple, I bathed her breast with my tongue. Imani's hips had started to lift rhythmically. She writhed on the bed when I took my face away and rubbed her nipple with my lube-coated finger and thumb. Then I dipped my head, opening my mouth wide, sucking as much of the tip of her breast into it as I could, my fingers squeezing the base, shaping it for me to suckle. The base of my tongue rubbed her nipple as I slowly drew back, until it was between my teeth, when I gripped it lightly, stretching it until it slipped free. The lubricated surface wouldn't allow me to stretch it far enough to pop out.

Imani shuddered and moaned at this, so I ran my tongue over the tip, then repeated the process. Again, she moaned, her hips rising from the bed. The third time I lowered my mouth, Imani's hands moved to the back of my neck, her fingers sliding into my hair. I continued to suckle until her breast slid from between my teeth again, then looked up. "Am I going to have to cuff your hands back there."

Her eyes became wide, either with the thought of cuffing or with the realization that her hands had moved automatically. She shook her head. "No, you don't need to."

"Slide your fingers under the headboard," I suggested. "You can just hold on."

Imani nodded, stretching out her arms to grip the headboard, then murmured, "I don't know if you realize what you're doing to me."

I gave her a grin, intended to show I knew exactly what I was doing. Which I did, mostly. Then I lightly closed my teeth on her nipple, caressing it with my tongue before stretching it out. Releasing her nipple made Imani jerk and quiver.

Rising, I moved my fingers toward the tip of Imani's left breast, coating it with lube from the small remainder of the ice ball, and kneaded both breasts in my palms. She was moaning with each breath. I'd used up the ice ball in my left hand completely, but she didn't need more, her right breast glistened with the slick fluid. I continued to knead for a minute or two before lowering my mouth to her right breast.

I suckled her breast as I kneaded with my fingers, then played the same game of drawing out her breast in my mouth, stretching it and letting it spring back. After doing this a few times, it seemed that everywhere I touched Imani would make her moan. She squirmed as I drew my left hand to her waist.

I ached to feel her body beneath mine, and it was time to take her higher, so I squatted on her thighs, collected another ice sphere, then dropped it into her navel before I lowered myself onto her.

As soon as we started to kiss, Imani wrapped her legs around me, trying to thrust her sex against mine. I covered each breast with a hand, my slippery hands trapped between my breasts and hers. Our kiss was savage, the need in Imani exciting me so powerfully that I was tempted to give her what she wanted right there. The melting ice spread lube between our bellies, making our rhythmic hip movements even more sensual. It would be so easy to let myself slip into climax with her.

But that wasn't my goal, and I reluctantly broke the kiss and began to slide down her body.

With the finger and thumb of each hand pinching and rubbing Imani's swollen nipples, I slid down to her navel, took the now somewhat smaller ice ball between my lips, then continued down to her sex. The dampness of her thong showed how little lubricant she needed, but the ice had more sensation to offer.

Releasing Imani's breasts and rolling aside, I pulled her thong down to her ankles, then tossed it to the floor. Sliding the ice down to her clit, I rolled it around with my tongue, tasting her natural lubricant with the light rose of the melting sphere. Imani's back arched, and she cried out, lifting her hips to press her sex to my mouth, but I wouldn't be granting her release yet.

Instead I backed away. Taking the remnant of the ice sphere into my left hand, I pushed two fingers into her, then drew them back and pressed the ice ball inside her too, my cold, wet fingers rubbing against the front wall of her sex.

Imani's writhing on the bed grew stronger, her moans more constant, as I felt for and tapped her G-spot. When I began to lick her labia, Imani cried out, "Oh, fuck!"

Raising my head, I said, "You can touch your breasts, if you like." Immediately, Imani released the headboard and started squeezing her breasts in a way I never would, twisting and pinching them so hard it looked like she'd hurt herself. When she pinched her nipples, she cried out and her back arched.

I let my tongue drift up from her labia to her clit, caressing it softly. Knowing I couldn't hold her back any longer, I licked and lapped at the firm nub. Imani's hips rocked firmly, pressing her clit against my lips, and I kissed it between strokes of my tongue.

That was too much for Imani. Her back arched strongly and her thighs tensed. She moaned loudly as her clit began to pulse in rapid contractions against my tongue.

Imani's orgasm seemed to last for a surprisingly long time. I continued to polish her clit with my tongue, my fingers pressed to the front wall of her sex, as her body began to relax to the bed. The contractions continued, though, slowing and becoming erratic, each still causing her body to squirm and her larynx to let out a soft moan. It must have been over a minute before the pulsing finally faded, and the girl raised her head, her expression full of joy as she looked at me.


Turning the corner of the sheet down, I asked Imani to sit up. She seemed almost stunned, but managed to move enough for me to pull the sheet out from beneath her and to stack pillows behind her. When she was comfortable, I drew the sheet back over her legs to her navel. Then, "Wait here."

Slipping out of the room, I headed to the balcony door. Outside, I collected our wine glasses. The wine hadn't warmed up much, since the night air was chilly, but it might have picked up dust or flies, so I poured it out, wiped the glasses with a paper towel, and refilled them.

Back in the bedroom, Imani seemed fully alert, and had pulled the sheet a little higher. I set my wine down on the nightstand, handed her the other glass, then piled up the remaining pillows and slipped into bed beside her.

She sipped her wine, then held her glass still for several seconds before speaking. "I have never come like that before. Not just that, everything you did to me turned me on like nothing I've ever felt."

"I didn't discover until last week - no, the week before," I said, "just how hot it is to use lube in foreplay, not just for penetration. Danielle showed me the lube ice cubes, though I think I prefer my little ice balls."

She turned to give me a languid kiss that felt affectionate and deep, but didn't threaten to get out of control. We both sipped our drinks. "The experiment was a success," she stated.

After a moment, she added, "And you seem to have lost your nervousness."

"I guess I have," I said. "I'd hoped it hadn't shown."

"I'm going to guess that I'm the first Black woman you've made love to," she said.

"Yeah," I admitted. "I kept feeling that I might do something that would be insulting, or stereotyping."

"You didn't," Imani said. "And it is only sex." She frowned. "Well, okay, it's only mind-blowing, earth-shaking sex, but the point stands. If you were racist or homophobic you wouldn't have been flirting with a Black lesbian."

"I didn't really flirt with you much, though," I said. "Not until today. I didn't really have the opportunity."

Imani's face split into a wide grin. "I meant Clare."

"Oh." I felt my face heat up. "I guess I did that, but I like both of you."

"I could tell," she said. "And has anyone told you that you're adorable when you blush?"

My face warmed further. "Stop trying to distract me. So, mind-blowing and earth-shaking? Can I put that on my resume?"

"Be my guest," she said. She drank more of her wine, then handed me the glass to set down. The bed may have been queen size, but the room really wasn't, and I couldn't fit a nightstand on the far side. Being single, that wasn't a problem for me.

Imani rolled onto her side, then lowered her head, beginning to tongue my left breast as she took it into her hand, kneading it with her fingers. I smiled down at her, still sipping my wine. I was finding I really liked this girl, and I especially liked how she'd reacted to my touch, and the affection spurred my building arousal.

After another sip, I set my wine down. After pushing our extra pillows to the side, I shuffled lower in the bed, Imani adjusting her position to suit. The rapid movements of her tongue were making my stomach flutter. I eased my knee between her thighs, then moved one hand to her hip and began to roll her to press her sex against my thigh.

We were both breathing heavily when Imani broke away from my nipple and slid away from my thigh. She shook her head. "My turn now," she said.

Rolling me onto my back, Imani ran her hand down my body until it reached my panties. She raised her eyebrow, shook her head again, and said, "Man, these should already be gone." She brought both hands to my hips to draw my panties off, then positioned herself completely over me, pushing her right leg between my thighs, lifting it until it was firmly against my sex.

Without any further ado, she began to rock against me, her hip heavy against my clit. Of course, in that position, my upper thigh was against her sex, too, so we were each applying erotic pressure. Her swaying breasts caressed mine as she slid her body against me.

"Oh, yes," I murmured, "Oh, God, yes," as I tilted my pelvis to increase my force against her.

Imani set the pace. She was relentless, and I wanted everything she was giving. Her body's pressure and friction against my sex drove me ever higher. Her face, above mine, was damp, glowing a dark gold in the light of the nightstand. I reached for her breasts and began to knead the tips firmly, my thumbs pressed to her nipples.

In spite of taking charge of our activity, Imani didn't object to my fondling. She grunted with each thrust, her breathing increasingly labored. Suddenly her upper body dropped to mine and her mouth seized mine. My hands were now crushed to her breasts by the pressure of my own, and I squeezed harder, almost frantically as our kiss grew ever more searing.

Though I knew where my body was heading, my climax, when it hit, seemed to come from nowhere. One second I was trying to devour Imani's tongue, my excitement climbing, and the next a ferocious throbbing erupted within me. I gasped and cried out into the kiss. I think I froze for a few seconds before my senses returned, and then all I could think of was sharing the moment with Imani. I pinched her nipples hard, and bounced my hips up from the bed to slam my thigh into her sex.

Moments later I felt her movements stutter. She moaned loudly into the kiss, then gasped through her nose as her body went rigid. She seemed to teeter on the edge for a moment before collapsing onto me, still moving, but now writhing as if she wanted to merge our bodies.

When Imani's lips parted from mine, I released her breasts. Her face had a look of what seemed like wonder, and I'm sure mine was the same. It was several seconds before she expressed my own feelings, when she said, "Whoa..."

I grinned and kissed her nose. "Whoa, for sure," I said. It was several seconds before I added, a little apprehensively, "I... want to be inside you."

Imani's eyes widened. "Oh, my God, yes," she breathed.

"Give me a minute until I have control of my limbs," I said, "and I'll get the stuff."


I hadn't exaggerated. My shoulders and thighs still tingled and felt weak. I staggered slightly when I stood, and gripped the bed while I found my balance, but the buzzing subsided quickly, and by the time I had found all the components of the strap-on my arms and legs were functioning.

At the toy shop, I'd told the assistant that I was mildly disappointed when wearing a strap-on that it hadn't felt as good for me as I'd expected. She'd shown me a pocket in the base that was designed for a mini-vibe, but also suggested a silicone sheath that was designed to extend the movements of the dildo for better clitoral stimulation. I was way over budget by then, so I decided to buy the sheath and leave the vibe for a future treat.

So after assembling the strap-on, I lubed the sheath heavily - as the assistant had instructed - then snugged the straps, before unrolling a condom over the shaft. Imani had rolled to her side, and was watching me with amusement.

Sitting on the bed, I picked up the bottle of lube. "Nope," came Imani's voice from behind me. "I get to do that." Shrugging, I handed her the bottle and lay on my back.

Imani squirted lube onto the dildo and her fingers liberally, then began to stroke the shaft, letting her fingers bounce over the ridges and move the shaft as they circled.

I realized immediately that the silicone sheath had been a good investment. Whenever the dildo vibrated or moved, a tiny jolt of feeling flowed into my clit, and the feelings merged and built upon each other. I licked my lips as the tingling in my belly grew, then looked up into the dark face of my partner, who had a wicked smirk on her lips. She knew exactly what I was feeling.

"I'm sure that's enough," I said, my voice surprisingly rough. "I do want to be inside you, you know..."

Imani pouted, but released the dildo, then wiped the excess lube from her hands by transferring to my breasts, with slow strokes followed by hard squeezes. After fondling my fake penis, the attention made me moan.

"Stop that!" I insisted, trying to control my breathing. "Stop it and lie down."

She did, and I rolled onto her before lifting my butt, my knees between Imani's, so that I could press the silicone shaft between her pussy lips and slowly ease it home.

Imani was so wet already, and the dildo so well lubed, that she offered little resistance, but the catch in her breath showed she was definitely feeling it fill her. I smiled down at her, then lowered my body onto hers, my hands on her hips, then reached back to pull the sheet over us. Resting my head on her shoulder, I began to move, my partner matching my gentle rocking.

When we'd settled into a pleasing rhythm, I raised my head, then planted my lips on hers. Our kiss was restrained. I was trying hard not to let it become too intense too quickly. I wanted her to feel the closeness that I did. It's why I wanted to be under the sheets, since that felt more intimate than being on top of them.

Imani's hips rose and fell as I pushed into her, my thighs and knees moving the dildo deep inside her, then almost completely out. Our tongues caressed each other languidly, but I could feel her breathing becoming heavy. Occasional soft grunts sneaked from her throat. I ran my hands up her sides, caressing her silky skin, then back down to her bare hips. I gloried in the feel of her naked body beneath mine, and an excited sigh emanated from my own throat.

We kept the pace for several minutes. I could sense that she was ready to let passion rule her motion, but she was holding back, possibly for me, possibly for the same reason I was, to prolong the intimate feeling. She was being penetrated by the extension of my body, and must have been feeling her passage forced wide and allowed to return with each stroke.

After a groan originated from deep within her, Imani's hips rocked faster. I broke the kiss, my hands securely on her hips as I adjusted my pace to match, putting more pressure on each stroke, pressing myself hard to her sex.

I was feeling it too, the passion overriding the need for closeness, although the intimacy remained as my hips rotated against her. The silicone sheath was proving its worth as the depth of my arousal grew. "Oh, fuck," I breathed into her ear. "Fuck, but this feels good."

We were both panting now. Imani's touch roamed my back, my butt, my sides, and occasionally my breasts. Everything she did turned me on. I moved my hands to her waist, to find her belly twitching with the depth of her arousal.

Without warning, Imani stopped her movements and flipped our positions, holding me against her so that the dildo remained within her. She gripped my waist, carefully lifting herself just far enough that the shaft remained inside her. Leaning to her left, she drew her right leg forward, then rested on it, her knee beside my ribs. After repeating the process with her left knee, she was squatting on top of me, her weight against my sex.

Imani grinned down at me, and started to bounce against me, using her legs to lift her without losing the dildo, and her hands on the bed to guide her movements. After a time, she raised her hands, too, so that she could be more upright.

Cowgirl style, she rode me hard, her breasts bouncing and swaying with her movements, her braids and earrings flying around her face.

Stretching out my left arm, I found the bowl of ice balls. They had shrunk, and now rested in a pool of icy lube, but at least a couple were still usable. I took two, passed one to my right hand, then cupped both of her breasts, the ice balls in my palms over her nipples.

Imani moaned as her breasts were confined and chilled. Her body bounced harder against me, and she grunted. My own climax was drawing near, but I didn't want to come before her. I lowered my right hand, still holding the ice ball, and wedged my fingers under her sex, felt for the nub of her clit, and pushed the icy lube close, as my fingers stroked her clit on either side.

My partner moaned loudly, gasped a few times, then stiffened. As her climax began to burn its way through her, I felt the contractions of her sex as quivering in the shaft. I tensed my hips, pushing myself up into her, then held my position, teetering on a knife edge, until my orgasm took me, hard and long.

When we had both recovered our senses, Imani lifted herself off the dildo, leaned down to give me a languorous kiss. "That was very special," she said, when she drew back.

"For me, too," I agreed. "Your earings..." I had to pause to breathe. "Seeing them swinging around... they're a rainbow!"

Imani grinned. "They are."

She slid off the bed and onto her feet, then looked around for her clothes. Her thong was by the foot of the bed, her dress and shoes in the living room. I'd pick mine up the next day. I straightened up the bed, put on my babydoll nightie with clean undies, then headed to the other room to find Imani zipping herself back into her dress. Her face seemed to glow, especially when she looked at me.

"Last kiss?" I suggested. She'd understand that I didn't mean the last of the evening, but the last for at least a long time.

She smiled again, and we were in each other's arms. I had to look slightly up to meet her mouth, since she was in heels and I was barefoot. The kiss began with our tongues meeting in passion, and continued until we were both groaning, and ready to rip each other's clothes off.

Instead, we separated, reluctantly. Then I bade her goodnight and watched her until she was safely in her car. When she pulled out of the parking spot, I locked the door, helped myself to another glass of wine to relax, and put myself to bed.