“About…” Monica stopped. She gestured to where Chenoa lay on her bed. “About this.”
“What? This?”
Chenoa gently pulled Monica’s face toward hers and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, a wet kiss, a kiss that burrowed straight down to Monica’s cunt.
Chenoa pulled away, her dark eyes sultry. “What’s so confusing about me wanting you as much as you want me?”
Monica’s throat tightened. She cupped Chenoa’s breasts and stroked them. “Nothing. There’s nothing confusing about it at all.”
She tenderly twisted Chenoa’s nipples. They hardened, becoming long and firm. Monica lowered her head and wrapped her mouth around Chenoa’s breast. She slowly, attentively sucked it.
Chenoa moaned. She pulled off Monica’s baseball cap and tossed it onto the floor. Then she undid the tie Monica had put around her dreads and pushed her hands through them.
“I love your hair,” she whispered. “It’s so beautiful. Like you.”
She leaned back against the pillows, and Monica followed her, her mouth still wrapped around Chenoa’s succulent breast. She moved her hand down to the curve of Chenoa’s waist, just above the top of her shorts.
Moving her hands past Monica’s, Chenoa took her shorts off and tossed them to the floor.
Monica stroked Chenoa’s long, smooth thighs. She leaned over, her face mere inches from Chenoa’s panties. She parted her lips, her breath coming short as much from her state of drunkenness as from the tantalizing aroma of Chenoa’s cunt. The dark bush of it underneath the sheer lilac bikini-cut panties plumped the already damp material.
Monica pressed her lips onto the roundness of Chenoa’s stomach. She kissed her, over and over, reveling in the quivering of her belly. She moved downward and pressed her nose onto Chenoa’s panty-covered cunt. Slowly she breathed in the scent of her. Then gently, yet thoroughly, she slid her tongue over the front of her panties, tasting Chenoa as she did so.
Chenoa moaned, long and slow.
Unable to stand it any longer, Monica slipped her fingers beneath Chenoa’s panties and pulled them off her body.
She looked down at Chenoa’s cunt, a wave of dizziness flowing through her.
“I’m still drunk,” Monica murmured. “But that’s okay.”
r />
She lowered her head and brushed her nose and lips over Chenoa’s mound, breathing in, over and over, the smell of her; sweat and musk and soap.
Monica licked and sucked the tender lips of Chenoa’s cunt. Then she wrapped her lips around her clitoris and gently sucked. Chenoa writhed beneath her, her thighs quivering. She feverishly whispered words in Spanish, her fingers digging through Chenoa’s dreads.
Monica moved her wet, eager tongue deeper into Chenoa’s juicy cunt. And she did as she had fantasized since first meeting Chenoa. Making low, hard sounds deep in her chest, Monica thoroughly ate that sweet, succulent, candy-coated pussy out.
Crying out, Chenoa violently shuddered and a flood of wetness gushed from her and onto Monica’s tongue and lips. Monica kept on eagerly sucking and licking her slick cunt.
Chenoa climaxed again, her body trembling, her breasts jiggling wildly as she thrashed on the bed.
Once she had quieted, Monica pushed herself up until she lay next to Chenoa. Her caramel-colored eyes were glazed, her full, lush lips still trembling.
“Where…” she gasped, drew a breath, laughed and shook her head. “Where’d you learn to eat pussy like that?”
Monica shrugged. “More than a couple of bottles of beer and a few months of being horny as hell were instrumental.”
Chenoa laughed. She pulled Monica’s face down to hers and kissed her, thoroughly, deeply, wetly. She tasted of beer and mint and her own female musk.
Monica pulled away and took off her shirt. Unlike Chenoa, she wore a bra. Reaching around, Chenoa quickly unhooked it. Once Monica’s breasts were free, Chenoa lifted her head and sucked first one, then the other nipple, her agile tongue licking them into a sweet, tart hardness, her full lips sucking earnestly.
Some of that Tucson heat must have still been smoldering inside Monica because, despite the air-conditioned hotel room, she started sweating as if she were still outside.
“Oh, baby,” she moaned. “That’s it. Suck ’em. Suck my titties.”
Chenoa readily obliged her. Then she pushed one of her hands down the front of Monica’s jeans, slid her fingers under her panties and, as she continued to suck and lick Monica’s breasts, finger-fucked her to not one, not two, but three blistering orgasms.