I shook my head, took a swallow of my gin and tonic, and tried to lose myself in the conversation that had started around me. But she was glowing, and if I had wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. I caught myself gazing at her again. She continued conversing with a woman who had joined them. I spied her checkin’ for me again. My heart raced excitedly to let my body know what my spirit had already figured out. For I literally saw my future in a universe of mysterious brown and flecked yellows of green; painted harshly by the hands of desire. In that color of time, we were not strangers as we were moments before. We were flesh melding and melting into each other. I was having visions of her that came with smells and sensations. My imagination was creating a sniff and lick Afronomical lesbian zodiac poster in my mind. I was drunk, but, thanks to her, the party was getting a lot better.

I walked over to the swarm of enamored men and women hanging on her every word and unceremoniously joined the crowd of admirers. She was an academic, a professor of physics writing a book on what she called “black people’s future time paradox.”

“The future has a way of gettin’ all up in your face when it wants to get a message across, doesn’t it,” Tempest said directly to me, acknowledging my presence in a lazy manner that belied the intense way she had been ogling me before I’d come over. My mouth was dry so I didn’t immediately respond to her. I nervously licked my lips, and she seemed to study that action before suggesting to her rapt audience that “the body is the ultimate future technology t

hat humanity still has not mastered.”

Technology was a force that had eluded me for some time. I was completely inept at any of the sciences and mathematics, but the future had come to me as a Black woman, not a computer.

“You’re vibrating,” she said, looking at me.

I know, I thought.

I was enthralled by her presence and the consideration she was now giving to me. I dumbly pulled my cell phone out of my interior jacket pocket. I looked down and attempted to collect a voice mail, but I saw only a symbol that I did not understand. Tempest must have seen the confusion on my face, and she boldly grasped my hand on its way to place the phone back into the inside pocket of the blazer I wore. Her touch electrified. Not unlike the rest of my body, my breast responded by offering a protruding and straining nipple to the brief contact she’d slyly insisted upon.

“It’s not voicemail or a text message. Somebody sent you an image to download,” Tempest said, using my ineptness as an opportunity to turn her back to the group of people she had just been talking to.

“Is that what that thing means?” I asked, and she proceeded to show me how to download the image. She stood close to me, at an angle, with her breast pressed against my arm.

“Black people kill me, getting technologically advanced shit and then they won’t figure out how to work it.” She spoke quietly, without looking at me.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind, next time I’m trying to download to that iPod that I haven’t been able to figure out for a couple of months.”

“Look at you!” she exclaimed, showing me the picture that one of my friends had taken of me a week ago. “I guess you look this hot all the time.”

She openly took in my five-foot-five frame in much the same way she had my lips. She slid the phone back inside my pocket and deliberately brushed against my nipple this time.

“What’s your name? I think I missed the introductions.”

“Tempest. And you are?”

“Seshat,” I answered.

“Egyptian goddess of the night sky and history,” she said.

“Nah, sexual astrologist for the insomniac and psychic friends,” I coyly revealed to her and she laughed, dimples and all.

Tempest was all fishnets, garters, and high heels with bohemian sex appeal that made me forget my ennui. Where I was crunk: unpolished, thick and curvy, she was jazz and soul: sophisticated, svelte, and shapely. I had already taken in every inch of her body. I knew that I would zig where she zagged. We would fit each other in the most utterly compelling intimacy.

“This is gonna sound like a line, but I swear to God that I know you.”

She leaned into me and, with her lips pressed against my ear, whispered, “Maybe we’re meeting in a past life or something.”

I caught a whiff of her perfume, but under that light floral scent she smelled even more divine.

Forget the past and the present. The future was fucking me into oblivion. Tempest had invited me out to her car to, “Get high,” she said. The backseat of the Chrysler 300 SI we slid into was roomy enough for two women to stretch out.

“Nice,” I said, running my hand over the plush fabric of the backseat, but all nervous banter halted the moment I placed my hand on her stocking-covered thigh.

“I didn’t come all across time for flirting, coy looks, and soft touches,” she said, intrepidly unbuttoning my blouse enough to expose one of my naked B-cup breasts to the warmth of her small hands.

I responded by slowly pressing my lips to hers, afraid that once I kissed her she would be gone or I would wake up. And when I realized we were both still in the here and now, I brushed my mouth against hers, again and again. With each breathless kiss, my lips gently touched and demurely suckled Tempest’s halfway-parted lips as she passionately whispered, “Fucking tease,” repeatedly against the pressure of my lips. She caressed my nipples with the palm of her hands.

“You’re a fucking tease,” I moaned, right before my tongue tasted and fully parted her lips into a heady kiss that forced our bodies down onto the backseat.

What had slowly started as soft and sensual had quickly turned hard and nasty. Tempest expertly sought out my lips, and her tongue plunged in and out my mouth in a way that left me panting and hotter still. I tore away the stockings covering her legs so that I could feel the sweltering heat rising from her skin. My fingers inched toward her inner thighs, parting them until I came into contact with wet heat. Her hands were everywhere and nowhere. Not at all concerned about who might see through the fogged windows of the car, we undressed until we were both completely naked and writhing alongside each other. I rubbed my slick cunt against her hand in wild abandon, and she lowered her mouth to one of my breasts and ardently used her tongue to lavish my areolas with jolting sensations that made me wetter. As I crept nearer to the edge, I watched her from under hooded lids talk dirty to me and revel in my debauchery. This is what I’d seen in her eyes across the room. Desire and hunger that could consume and ignite at the same time. She’d seen it in me, too.

When I was as close as I could be, Tempest stopped talking. She ceased stroking, and she contorted us both into a position in which she could glide her sopping wet pussy against my eager mouth. She smelled like wet moss and musk. It was painful and uncomfortable, but the feel of her silken thighs on each side of my face made me ache for the taste of her, so much so that I didn’t protest when she roughly bruised my mouth and suffocated me with the swollen lips of her cunt. She felt smooth. I caressed and palmed her ass while I lapped at her bald lips and girl-hood. Outside she tasted like good curry, flavorful and exotic. And the rest like oysters. I morphed my tongue into a spongy dick that she fucked so thoroughly, I thought it would shoot a load.

Tags: Zane Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net