If I could pick out a surprise (without telling myself, so I would still be surprised) this is what I would choose.
I would make plans to rendezvous with some, with any, butch top. At my place. My roommate is camping this weekend. She would be someone I know, but not a close friend. “I’ll be there in an hour” she says, and then hangs up with out saying goodbye.
Twenty minutes later the doorbell rings. I look through the peep and spy this random brunette in a long coat – it’s longer than whatever she’s wearing underneath. This is not what I expected. I decide to open the door and she walks in without saying hello. “Where’s the powder room?” I point to the hall and she goes that direction. Ten minutes later she comes out, draped in only a soft yellow slip. There’s a matching ribbon in her hair. Have I mentioned that I fell in love with femmes first? Brunettes especially. A brunette will do the trick every single time. “What’s your name?” Nervous, I mumble something about how she waltzed into my apartment without announcing herself, why does she need my name and who sent her here… “Oh, is there a problem? I should go.” She takes a step toward the door but something in my gut. er. cunt. tells me that she arrived on cue. That my friend would be there soon. “No. Don’t go. I’m sorry, I was just surprised” and I offer her a drink.
She answered an ad in the indie paper for a third – a complement. The ad told her she would primarily be bottoming. Primarily. The call came shortly after seven and she didn’t waste any time. She has someone’s initials tattooed inside her ankle. S. L.
My butch friend walks in without knocking. By this time I’m tiring of surprises, but relieved that she’s there. She’s wearing a pair of thick, thick blue jeans, a black A-shirt and a big black belt (understand that it’s probably not there to hold up her pants). Here I am standing in the middle of my living room in a tank top and the panties I’ve had on all day. “Where’s the bedroom?” anyone asks. I start walking toward the open door to my room and the butch, who has her hand on my shoulder, her finger looped around the strap, barks, “get on the bed. face first. and on your knees” I’m still not feeling altogether comfortable with the situation, but I comply. “Thank you” she says, as if my obedience doesn’t matter. With my face on the mattress, my knees sinking in, spreading apart, I’m tense, thinking about the belt, clinking off my friend’s waist. “And stop trying to guess.” the brunette adds, taking a silk headscarf from my wardrobe (as if she knew they would be there) to blindfold me. It still smells in it whatever country I brought it home from, Italy or Greece. Trying not to guess sounded like a good idea to me. Someone yanks down my panties and I feel vulnerable but small, cool hands correct any movements I make to cover up again. With only the woosh as a warning, I feel the slap of that big belt on my ass. Again, on my thighs, and it stings, but I can only smile.
At some point the brunette would be on her back and I would be on my knees, leaning over her. She’s holding me and I’m resting on her breast. The butch is fucking her with her cock and me with her fingers. Later, my head on the pillow, the brunette is at the foot of the bed with her mouth is on my pussy, and she’s resting her nose in soft flesh. All I can see is the yellow ribbon in her hair. At the same time, I’ve got butch cock in my own mouth, feeling the texture on my tongue as far as I can take it. She’s holding my wrists above my head so I can’t wipe the saliva from my chin, it just stays there. Hopefully. Hopefully – She comes with her cock in my mouth, my big blue eyes gazing up to hers. Finally I’m reclining, the brunette is cuddled up next to me, on her back, my left leg over her right and we’re kissing. My butch friend is on her knees, straddling our intertwined thighs. She’s fucking us both with one hand in each cunt, (imagine the ambidexterity! hah!) and but before this, she has bitten our breasts hard. I whined and she pulled my hair. If fucking and talking at the same time is possible, she’s saying
“You’re such a dirty girl, didn’t your mama teach you to behave?”
I’m trying to scowl and say “no” but it’s kinda hard to say anything but “yes” when someone’s thumb is burning your clit.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, you’re just a little slut, aren’t you?”
I give up and get into the rhythm of “hmm” and “yeah.” When my orgasm comes in waves and I’m trying to catch my breath, I can only manage a gasp between groans. It sounds like anger – and it feels almost the same as anger, too.
She sends this whore to my apartment ahead of her to set me off, then comes in without warning and doesn’t even kiss me before shoving her callused index finger up my cunt.