Missionary No More
I look forward to Ladies Night every month. At one time I would shy away from the local club scene because it was hard to find a reputable venue that would be anything but a funky little bar filled with women covered with piercings, tattoos and clothes that looked like Saran Wrap. The clubs in San Francisco and New York were off the chain. The booty was abundant and everyone came to get their party on. I met some of the finest black women on this side of the hemisphere in some of those clubs, but upon returning to my hometown of Washington, D.C., or rather the Chocolate City, I felt a little disconnected to the party scene.
It wasn’t until a friend of a friend turned me on to a group of women who were throwing private parties that I was able to feel connected to my party roots again. These sisters would rent a suite of rooms at numerous hotels downtown. We would register on the internet and pay a cover charge via PayPal. This particular party was being given at a Four Seasons Hotel. It was well-organized and the only way you could gain entrance was by referral. All the rules and guidelines were spelled out on their website and we even had to submit references and respond to an online questionnaire. This was one of the safest parties in
town; one where a sister didn’t always have to be watching her back.
The first time I went to Ladies Night, we were greeted by topless hostesses that were there to check us in. I don’t know where they found those sisters, but they had the firmest, most succulent breasts I had ever seen, with nipples the size of cupcakes. I was hypnotized and immediately knew that I wanted to sample some of those breasts before the night was over.
Before even getting through the door of the hotel room, we had to go through all the preliminary check-in stuff, like showing a picture ID and displaying a confirmation or verification of payment. I even had to sign an agreement to verify that I understood the house rules and that I was participating on my own free will. These sisters ran this operation like a true business and had all the bases covered. There were also bracelets provided that gave us an opportunity to identify the level of participation we wanted to be involved in.
There were three colored bracelets that could be selected. The red bracelet was for voyeurs, women who wanted to watch and not participate. The yellow bracelet was for those who only wanted to participate partially, by either being a receiver or giver of pleasure. You had to be specific on which you preferred. The green bracelet meant you wanted to fully participate and that you were ready for whatever was going down for the evening.
Since this was my first night, I decided to get a red bracelet, at which time I could upgrade at any time during the evening. I heard that this party had the best pussy in town and I decided that I would take my time and cruise the joint before settling into any one spot. It had taken me months to get on “the waiting list” and I had masturbated for days in anticipation of this
night. Now that I was in, I wasn’t about to take anything for granted.
There was wall-to-wall pussy from Diesel Dykes to Femmes. Huddled in the corners, eyeballing everyone from the back of the room, were the Baby Dykes. It was easy to figure out that they had only recently come out of the closet, so to speak, by the way they were holding up the walls with their hands between their legs. Every now and then, I stumbled across a sister that had only had sex with one other woman in her life and, for some reason, was holding out for “Ms. Right.” We called those sisters Lone Star Lesbians and would steer clear of them; we pretty much knew that they were just there to sightsee.
Then there’s the Stone Butches that like to suck, lick, fuck and everything else, but don’t want to be touched sexually. That’s alright by me as long as I know what the deal is beforehand. I don’t usually have to sweat them since they usually pair up with the Pillow Queens, who only like to receive sex. So the Stone Butches and Pillow Queens are enough for each other and make a hell of a sight to watch.
Then there are the women that are married to “beards,” which is what we call those brothers married to sisters who are living the illusion that they are straight, just so that they can cover up the fact that they are lesbians. These are the true freaks-of-the-week. They usually come out to swallow up as much pussy as they can get, so that it will last them until they are able to get out again. They eat pussy all night long and I have even seen a couple of them tear up two and three at one time.
My favorite freaks of all are the Gold Star Lesbians that have never slept with a man in their whole life and have no intentions of ever sleeping with one. Unlike myself, I have dabbled
with a few dicks in my day and don’t have anything against them, except I just like pussy better. If I had to choose between a pussy and a dick, then undoubtedly I would have to go with the pussy. I love the way it looks. I love the way it feels. I love the way it smells. I love the way it tastes. I love the way it pops when air gets caught up in it. I love the way it fills up and bubbles over at the right time. I love the way the lips swell and protrude when they get hot. I love the way pussies come in so many different shapes and sizes. What can I say? I just love me some pussy!
The music was jumping and the sound of “Do Me Baby” by Prince was blasting out of the speakers. The smell of Nag Champa incense was going straight to my head and the diffused lighting made shadows dance in time to the music. I had the option of walking around fully clothed, partially clothed or butterball naked. There was a changing room that we were encouraged to use and there wasn’t any pressure one way or the other about wearing or not wearing clothes. The temperature was a little on the cool side, but when I noticed all the erect nipples, I figured that was probably by design. Bowls of lube, mints and condoms were plentiful. The condoms made using the dildos and vibrators easier, because it made the clean up a lot less messy.
Sex toys were always an arm’s length away and were inconspicuously available in bookcases throughout the suite. There were vibrators of every description from G-Spot Vibes to Vibrating Rings, from Jack Rabbits to strap-ons. Safe sex was of the utmost importance and proper hygiene was indeed a must. Washing up and cleaning “the coochie” throughout the night was highly recommended and there were baby wipes and
towelettes available in every room. DVDs and homemade movies were playing all around the joint, so that we were surrounded by pussy in every direction. The party was off the chain and by the end of the night, I wanted to be up to my neck in pussy.
When I checked in, I thought I was at some organized conference or something. The “hostess” escorted me around, showing me the layout of the rooms, and alerted me to the different “playrooms” that I could choose from. There were four major rooms that consisted of a room for masturbation, a room for erotic massage, a hot tub room for water play and the master bedroom or the “Fucking Room.” There was also a room off to the back that was designated for “Performance Porn,” which I was told I would learn more about later in the evening.
Since I had to warm up to the whole public nudity thing, I decided to keep my bra and panties on and with my “red bracelet” in place, I was ready to get my “party on.” There were wall-to-wall sisters by the time I had finished my little tour and even though the incense was thick in the air, I smelled pussy and it smelled sweet. I followed some big-breasted women to the masturbation room and it took a few minutes before my eyes could get adjusted to the darkness. There were so many sisters, there wasn’t even enough space for me to hardly inch my way inside the room. The smell of pussy was potent and from moans and growls I heard coming out of the room, I decided that I would double back to this spot before I left for the evening.
The erotic massage room was slowly filling up by that time and one of the hostesses suggested that she was free to give me a massage before it got too crowded. Even though I showed her my bracelet, she said she was having a “newcomer’s special”
and it would help to loosen me up for the rest of the evening. I eagerly agreed and was led by the hand into a dimly lit room that had soft music playing, candles burning and pillows everywhere. I was helped onto a table and the next thing I knew my panties were coming off and my bra was being removed. Since I was still wearing my “red bracelet” I figured I would be watching an erotic massage rather than participating in one, but here I was lying on my back, with my pussy in the air.
The hostess was a fine, coffee-colored sister with the softest locks I had ever seen. Her nipples were the size of silver dollars and the hair on her pussy was shaved into a neat triangle; the way you see them in those porn videos. After looking at her little patch of hair, I wished that I had trimmed mine back a little closer, so a sister could at least see what she was working with. However, in most of my experiences, I had met a lot of sisters that liked hairy pussies and didn’t find it a problem, but I still tripped over it when meeting someone for the first time.
The hostess warmed some oil between the palms of her hands and began running her hands all over my body, beginning from my head and working her way down to my toes. As she carefully rubbed the oil into my skin, she alternated with rubbing hard and with rubbing soft. Each time she rubbed me, she would get closer to my inner thighs and breasts, barely touching them. As she got closer and closer, I would anticipate each stroke of her hands. Even though I tried to play it cool, the desire was building between my legs and I wanted her to stop all that damn teasing and make a move.
As my hostess noticed how my body was starting to twitch, she started to kiss my neck and then planted light kisses down toward my stomach, then back up to my lips. Her lips were soft and as she kissed me behind my ears, she told me how much
she liked the hair on my pussy and how hard my nipples were. On cue, my nipples doubled in size as she touched them and began stroking them from my left nipple to the right one.
She took her thumb and index finger and encircled my nipples with a soft, pulling motion and continued to rotate them counterclockwise until I found my hand between my legs. She wouldn’t let me finger myself and when I protested, she handcuffed both of my wrists to each side of the table. I could feel the blood in my pussy kick in, causing it to tighten up as she began stroking my nipples with her index finger while she started rubbing on hers.
As she applied more oil to both of our nipples, she leaned over me and pulled her nipples across mine until they both were hard and swollen and standing at full attention. She squeezed her breasts together as she ran them across mine, making her nipples look like small torpedoes. It felt so good, the way her nipples rubbed up against mine, that I begged her to let me taste them, but she kept on rubbing mine and rubbing hers and then suddenly stopped when I was about to cum.
After my intensive “tittie massage” she turned her attention to my pussy which was hot, heavy and swollen and in need of some immediate attention. She opened my legs to expose my clit and told me how big it had gotten. She used her forefinger to work the head of my clit out of its tight hiding place and lifted my head onto a pillow, so I could watch her work my nubby clit into a convulsion. She licked her fingers several times as she tried to get my clit to swell beyond the size it had already gotten. Homegirl then oiled up a silver bullet and turned it up full speed and worked it on, in and across my clit and down my pussy until I was shaking like a junkie.
By that time, my inner pussy lips looked like the petals of a
flower. They were plump and thick. The more she stroked them, the plumper they would get until they had changed to a deep shade of red and then to purple. She worked my outer lips as well and fondled and stroked them until they were completely hanging out of my pussy. She kept complimenting me on how pretty my pussy was and how wet I had gotten.
At that point she asked me what I wanted her to do next, as if I was ordering from a menu. Since I was given a choice, I told her that I wanted her to “fuck me.” So, without further ado, she put on a strap-on dick and not one of those baby dicks either, but one of those long, wide, thick ones that can drill a hole straight through your pussy. She climbed on top of me and parted my knees. Before entering me, she opened me up with two lubricated fingers and parted the lips of my pussy so she could insert the strap-on in just the right angle. She entered me slowly and kept asking me, “Does this feel good?” and all I could do was grunt and moan, because sister-girl was working that strap-on like she was born to fuck.
The head of the strap-on was curved in such a way that it was able to go deep into my pussy, finding its way into every nook and cranny inside of me. She was fucking the shit out of me like she was looking for buried treasure. When she came to the edge of my pussy, she pulled toward me and pumped two more times deep inside me. That got me off to the point that my pussy was bubbling over, like a volcanic reaction. As I was trying to push the orgasm through my body, she took the silver bullet and lit me up again for a second orgasm.
My hostess didn’t even give my pussy time to cool off before she asked me if I had ever experienced fisting. When I said that I had tried it a few times and didn’t like it, she convinced me
that it wouldn’t hurt and would even walk me through it step by step. She took the handcuffs off of me and placed a pillow under the small of my back. She then put on a latex glove and soaked it with plenty of water-based lube.
I had never used lube and figured that’s why it probably had hurt the way that it had before; not to mention the other sisters actually trying to jam their entire arm up in me, making the experience quite numbing. My hostess started with a couple of fingers at first, one at a time, and massaged my clit as she was doing it.
She kept asking me, “Does that feel good?” Checking in with me every now and then, I heard her but couldn’t answer. It was feeling too good to talk, but she got the message just the same.
After working my pussy for awhile, she formed her fingers in the shape of a teardrop and slowly worked her hand into my slippery hole by slowly rotating her wrist in and out of my pussy. On contact, my pussy swallowed up her hand. She kept rotating her wrist until her whole hand was buried deep in my pussy. She then slowly moved her hand in and out and carefully twisted her wrist from left to right. I can’t say that fisting was ever something that I usually volunteered to do, but this shit was feeling incredibly right tonight and it didn’t even feel like the end of a baseball bat like usual. Her hand actually filled my pussy up with the exact amount of pressure that soon had me humping her fist on every down stroke.
Even though she slowly eased her fist out of me, it stung a little when she finally removed it. It wasn’t a bad thing; it was just a throbbing feeling that made me want to rub my pussy to cool it off. Homegirl must have sensed that my pussy was on fire, because she started rubbing her thigh on my pussy in such
a soft way that immediately cooled it down and then heated it back up. The more she rubbed her thigh across my pussy, the more I rubbed my pussy against her thigh. We went from thigh to pussy rubbing, to knee to pussy rubbing, to ass to pussy rubbing, and finally to pussy to pussy rubbing.
She positioned herself over me as if we were a pair of scissors. She pulled back slightly to show me how to pull my pussy lips back far enough, so the inside of our pussies were wet enough for us to feel the soft sticky flesh rubbing up against each other. The more we pushed into each other, the stickier we became until both of us busted the biggest nut that is humanly possible. I don’t know who nutted the most, whether it was me or her, but after getting into a “69,” we then started a race to see who could eat “the pussy” the fastest.
As I ate her pussy from the top, she tore mine up from the bottom. She smelled musty and tasted salty and I couldn’t get enough of her sticky juices. The lips of her pussy were hanging out of her like “balls” and the more I sucked on them, the more she drove her pussy into my mouth. As she nibbled on my clit, she fingered me at the same time until both of us were twitching and moaning.
When she was finished with me, she turned me over and gave me a full body massage, fucked me one more time from the back with a glass dildo, and left me alone to recuperate until my jelly legs became firm. When she left the room, all I could do was get in a fetal position and suck my thumb like a baby. I could hardly move and my pussy was numb, but I was feeling better than I had felt in a long time. As the feeling began to come back in my pussy and in my legs, I slowly rubbed my nipples and clit, because I was experiencing those aftershocks that usually happen after good fucking.
I suddenly heard something that sounded very familiar and as I looked up on the big screen in front of me, there I was with homegirl with a mouth full of pussy. Beside me was a release form giving permission to feature my video during the “Performance Porn” portion of the evening. I immediately signed it, because I didn’t want to deny anyone the opportunity to see two divas at work and I certainly didn’t want any of that good pussy action to go to waste. Once I was able to regain total consciousness, steady my breathing and stand on my own, I was immediately going to turn in my “red bracelet” for an upgrade. Lotus Falcon is a native of Washington, D.C. who holds a bachelor of science degree in education and a masters of public administration. She is an educator in a public school system who also leads women empowerment/sexuality workshops and sells adult toys and products in her spare time. She is currently working on several writing projects for children and adults and is married with seven children