Queen of Love

Her gasps were worth the break in the anatomy lesson. Even though Aya’s mind was going through every relevant vocabulary word.

I could live like this, you know. Maybe it really was the simple things in life that kept people going. Aya didn’t often think about how confining and lonely her life could be. After all, she had work and her family. Yet when she made love like this, be it with a local or a foreigner, she was reminded that there was more to life than who took her labor and who took her sanity.

There were the women who took her heart, too.

Genevieve’s pitiful words were one part incomprehensible, two parts magical. Aya felt every earnest syllable that hit the air, regardless of if she knew what they meant. I don’t speak any language right now. Only this. Her tongue didn’t need words – it needed Genevieve’s wet skin and the tender flesh that lurked within her body. This woman needs me to give her my all. Aya didn’t have everything she liked to use best right now. Usually, that was fine. She conveyed plenty with nothing but her natural body. Sometimes, though… with women like this…

Damnit, why didn’t she have a strap-on? Genevieve was the perfect kind of woman for that kind of fucking. She would let anyone, most of all Aya, completely unload her vigor into this sweet and delicate mango.

Was that the word? It sounded awfully familiar.

Mango. One of the juiciest fruits. Yes, it was no wonder Aya’s mind was stuck on that right now. She had mango in her mouth, and it was attached to a woman who grabbed her chest and arched her back as she quickly came from the sensations overwhelming her. How could they not? Aya’s whole mouth had been focused on Genevieve’s clit for the past minute.

“Why did you stop?” Genevieve pitifully asked as Aya climbed up the bed and removed that lacy bra. “I was so close…”

Aya cut off those words with a famished kiss. Her hands moved up the length of Genevieve’s arms, clasping her hands to the bed. “I know,” she whispered on those gasping lips.

“You’re terrible.”

Aya sat back again, unbuttoning her blouse as she surveyed the naked woman beneath her. “We’re not done yet. Sorry. I had to take a break so I could remember how to speak a different language.” She removed her blouse. Next was her own bra. “Don’t you want to know the name of the body part I’m about to fuck?”

“Oh, God.” Genevieve closed her eyes, her pelvis quivering in anticipatory delight. “The way you say that word is amazing.”

Aya attempted to keep her ego in check as she unzipped her pants. “You’re amazing.”

Super smooth, Don Juan.

Genevieve rubbed herself between the legs. “I swear I used to know what this is called.”

Aya was on top of her again. It wouldn’t take long for her hand to push Genevieve’s out of the way. As Aya’s finger entered that warm and wet place, she indulged in yet another cataclysmic sigh that shook the bed. Except she wasn’t sure if she made that sound, or Genevieve.

“Omanko,” she said.

“That’s it…” Genevieve moaned in between their kisses, her legs threatening to clamp around Aya, who kept them spread wide with her own sprawled knees. “I remember now.”

“This right here…” Aya’s thumb rediscovered the swollen clit that had taunted her tongue only a moment before. “It’s your mame. You know where that word comes from?”

Genevieve grabbed the pillow beside her and shook her whole body, barely withstanding the wave of pleasure threatening to knock her out. “No…”

“Think of all those appetizers you’ve eaten since getting here.” There were many words, both formal and colloquial, for a woman’s clitoris, but Aya had always been partial to mame, which usually meant a seed, bean, or sprout. Like a sweet pea. One of Aya’s favorites. The closer she came to the pit of a nice piece of fruit, the more likely she was to lose her mind.

“I only want to think about you fucking me.”

Another finger slipped inside of Genevieve. The way she sprawled her arms across the pillows was divine; the way her hair haloed her head was heavenly. “Why think about it when I’m doing it?”

“Harder.”

“You want me to fuck you harder?”

“Yes!”

That could be arranged. As soon as Aya dove downward, immersing her face in another place she would eventually tell Genevieve the Japanese word for.

Maybe not tonight, though. Aya was tired of playing tutor. She wanted her reward for a lesson well done.

That reward lay within Genevieve, who was such a willing and active participant in this merry lovemaking, Aya wondered who she’d fooled around with for so long before this night. Other women… can be so shy. Genevieve was demure when the moment called for it, but she wasn’t afraid to ask for sex, let alone what she wanted during sex. Oh, Aya knew a thing or two about Genevieve’s love life. Light research into her other business holdings revealed a BDSM club in Taipei and a “hookup café” in Hong Kong. This was a woman who liked to surround herself with sex. Preferably, with women. Aya was a little envious. Her forays into the rest of Asia had been limited over the years, with only a brief vacation in South Korea to show for it. Korea hadn’t been much different from Japan when it came to conservative outlooks toward sex. Maybe the Chinese-speaking world was similar, too, but Aya never guessed it based on the women she met from there. Genevieve’s ability to quickly reach climax, never mind how loud she got when caught off guard, was a breath of fresh air compared to some of Aya’s ex-girlfriends. We’ve got words for women like my exes. She wouldn’t speak to them in this room, though. Genevieve needed her attention.

“What are you going to do for me when my fingers get tired of your pussy?” Aya was proud of herself for remembering all of the words in that sentence. After all, her entire brain was consumed with sex – and how much she would love some attention, as soon as she got her fill with watching and feeling Genevieve tremble on this bed. “I want some, too, you know.”