“Head to Head: Part 2”
17 MIN READ
I opened my eyes to a room I hardly recognized. The woman beside me was deep in sleep. Her back was turned and her hair was wild. I placed my hand at the center of her back to wake her. When she didn’t stir I resigned to prayer:
Please comfort Brooklynn and care for her heart. Let the people in her path have good intentions and let her experiences going forward be healing. Let love find her and shine through in her life.
I placed my feet on the floor and began to get dressed, somewhat thankful for the absence of a formal goodbye. A notepad and pen sit on the desk beneath the window. I wrote a note and placed it on the bed along with a small rose quartz from my purse before letting myself out.
Dear Brooklynn,
This weekend was perfect. Thank you for letting me share space with you. My body thanks you and my heart thanks you. You have such a sweet spirit and I know love will find you. Travel safe.
—Cree.
***
Morning hours and tasks sailed into the afternoon, as days tend to coast. My phone rang from an unknown number with a 424 area code and I sent it directly to voicemail. Silenced. Ignored. Carried on propelling. Consecutive texts from the same number immediately came through to demand appropriate pause.
Blue bubble one: “Yo.”
Blue bubble two: “It’s me, Brooklynn. Thank you for the note and the night. I wish you left your number. I hope you don’t mind that I got it from Ashara. I know this was just supposed to be fun but I’d like to get to know you better. I have a meeting at my office in DC next month. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to call and hopefully come see you.”
Blue bubble three: “You’re different. Please say yes.”
A sly gypsy smile traveled up from my belly, into my chest, over my lips and into my eyes. A flash of warmth, intoxicated as quickly as the last shot you said you shouldn’t take. The only appropriate thing to do is dance.
I immediately replied, “Brooklynn! I’d like that a lot. Call me when you get back to LA.”
And she did, every night for the next three weeks. We talked about work. She’s a software designer, mostly video games. We talked about family. She’s the oldest of three and loves her grandmother more than anyone in the world. We talked about past loves. She thought she would be with the last one forever and she’s hurt. We talked about dreams. She wants to be the one infiltrating the boy’s club and changing the game (literally) so other women have access to high paying positions in tech. We talked about identity. She always knew she liked girls but tried to fight it in high school and kissed three boys. She slept with two of them. It didn’t work out. Her friends say she falls in love too quickly. She likes to smoke before bed. She likes vegan Mexican food, but only in LA. She’s a Sagittarius with a Virgo moon.
We talked about sex. In the safety of our individual bedrooms, neither one was shy or cautious. Musings freely paint the walls whatever color we like when there are only voices. Facial expressions roam freely in the absence of video, so we talked.
I confided, “I have a confession to make. This has gone a lot further than I expected. You’re a really good person and I enjoy getting to know you. So, I mean, I’m glad.”
“Oh, you thought we were just gonna smash over the weekend and then you get stuck with me?” she teased.
“Kind of, yeah.” I jabbed. “Kidding! I get to have you. The only thing I knew about you was that you needed a friend. That’s probably still true. But, you’re great. You deserve to be comforted during a tough time. Or distracted.”
“How would you distract me if I were there right now?” She asked, opening yet another door.
“Well, I already know what you can do to please me. Soooo, I would start to learn your body so I can please you. I would study you and listen to you so I could make you cum harder and longer than you ever have before. You can tell me all of the things your exes did that you liked and... I would do them better. I’d do all the things I learned with all of my exes and perfect them with you. I’ll make you forget either one of us ever had an ex.”
“Shit. I don’t even know what to say.”
“You can tell me everything. It’s just us,” I said, testing the waters. “Do you like your breasts touched? Can I put your nipples between my lips?”
She firmly stated, “Sports bra stays on for now.”
“Okay. I remember your reaction when I kissed your neck. What if I start there, make my way down between your covered chest that I respectfully do not touch, lick over your stomach and down. What would you like me to lick? Your pussy? Your clit? Your dick? Your strap? Tell me what to put in my mouth.”
She gasped, “Put my strap in your mouth.”
After a mischievous pause to bite my bottom lip and reflect on the possibilities, I instructed, “Stand up against the wall. I want to get on my knees and suck your strap. Make sure it’s on tight because my throat is deep and I want it all.”
“Oh, shit. On the wall?”
“Yes, on the wall. Stand up with your back against the wall and keep your eyes on me. Let me control your body.”
“Don’t stop talking.”
“I’m walking towards you in your favorite lingerie. What would you like for me to wear?”
“Uhhhh,” she stammered, “You’re wearing something black and see-through.”
“Yes. I’m wearing a sheer black bra and panties. It’s like a dark veil over my skin and you can see my nipples and pussy underneath. A leather harness cinches my waist and wraps around my thighs. The leather squeezes them and pushes them up into my fat ass. Can you see the line it makes, pinching into my skin, just below my pussy? I’m walking up to you slowly so you can see how much I want you before I kneel in front of your hard dick. Can you see how badly I want you? Look at my eyes. What do you see?”
“You look like you want me.”
“I do. Please let me taste you, Brooklynn. I want to know what you feel like over my lips and behind my teeth.”
“I want to touch you. You’re so sexy, Cree.”
“I’m kneeling in front of you. My hair is in my face. Can you hold it out of the way so you can see me grip your dick and lick around the tip? Watch me twirl my tongue around your head as I stroke. Can you see the way my mouth waters for you when I open wide and stick out my tongue? What do you see, Brooklynn?”
“I can see your head tilted back, your mouth open, and my strap resting on your tongue.”
“What are you going to do with that strap, Brooklynn?”
“I’m going to hold your head and stroke in and out of your mouth. I’ll be gentle. Is that okay, Cree?”
“I want you to fuck my face, Brooklynn. I’m sliding all the way down your dick, my tongue reaching down the length of your shaft and your head deep in the back of my throat. I open my throat to receive you and gag but don’t stop. Can you hear me gag? Your dick feels so good, way deep down.”
Brooklynn’s breath, pithy and cumbersome ordered, “Play with your pussy right now.”
Moaning, “I’m soaking wet, Brooklynn. Thinking about pleasing you makes my pussy drip.”
“Let me hear it.”
“I have a better idea,” I declared before tapping the button for video. She accepted.
I propped the phone up on a pillow between my open legs and pulled my panties to the side, revealing the inside of my lustrous pussy. I watched her face light up at the sight of the pink, dewy doorway. I parted my own lips so she could see my clit, full and resounding, as I massaged it on either side. I slid my middle finger in and out, flicking dramatically to accentuate lush splashing. Pussy in stereo.
Splash. Splash. Splash.
In a voice, faint and sputtering, Brooklyn bellowed, “Pretend that’s my tongue. I want you to cum on my face.”
“Can I ride your face?” I asked, already switching the camera angle to accommodate the new view of me riding a pillow. I bore down onto the straddled pillow with my eyes fixed on the phone. Brooklynn’s voice and full attention were all I needed to charge this seething force.
“Ride my face, Cree. Scoot up a little more so I can put my whole tongue inside you. Let your clit rub up against my nose. Fuck my face…please.”
Her voice reached down into my gut and liquified my body. Her demand summoned burdens to rise and ground them to dust. Ground as thoroughly as my clit against the soft sheathe of my panties and the pillowy pressure pushing back against them. There was no day or night. There were no walls or distance. Our energy exchange reached over space and through time to touch.
The camera was fixed on Brooklynn’s almost expressionless face. The stillness in her jaw, her relaxed eyes, and the slow tick-tock of her shoulder rising up and down were all I could see. I closed my eyes and imagined the pillow between my legs was her chin and mouth. The heat of friction fanned out beneath my skin, warming my chest and face. Steadily rocking and riding, I pulled my t-shirt up, over my head and bore my breasts to the camera. Brooklyn’s shoulder pulsed a bit more quickly as I braced myself against the bed, spread my legs wider around the pillow, and rotated my hips, slowly.
I said to Brooklynn, “Spread your legs wide and flat so our clits touch. I want to ride your dick.”
Panting, she replies, “My dick. Ride my dick.”
“I’m about to cum, Brooklynn. Please put your dick inside me. Do you feel the inside of my soft, wet pussy tightening around your clit, pulling at your dick every time I rock backwards and squeezing your dick tight when I come forward? That's how I want to cum, when you’re deep. Can you feel my pussy locked around you and my hard clit rubbing against you?”
We paused to let fancy seep through our skin and cloud good sense. It was clear that coherence had no place in this pocket of reality and so we both closed our eyes and silently placed ourselves inside the fantasy.
“That touch you feel is my body weight pressing down on you, my pussy squeezing your dick harder, and me riding you faster. Can you feel the inside of my pussy?”
“Yes, Cree.”
“Do you remember how wet I am? Tell me what you feel.”
“Fuck, your pussy is so warm. Your pussy is so good. I want-to to cum.” She stuttered.
I heard Brooklynn’s voice differently. Amplified in the absence of care for my surroundings, it sounded like thunder off in the distance: booming, rolling, startling.
“I can feel you, Brooklynn,” I say bracing myself and fucking the pillow faster than before. The loosened bed frame began to squeak and tap against the wall. For a second I wonder if the neighbors on the other side or beneath me can hear the banging and rocking and then immediately decide not to care. I beg Brooklynn, “Please talk to me. I want to hear your voice while I cum.”
Brooklyn assuredly commanded, “I can feel you. Cum on me, Cree.”
“I’m cumming, Brooklynn!” I scream as we both climax.
My body shudders three times before I collapse onto the bed. There I laid, satiated, dismantled, unhinged, panting and awkwardly crumpled before my displaced camera. My own lens showed the pinched line between my bent thigh and calf, crouched over the pillow. Hers revealed her forehead, a tuft of messy hair, and her white ceiling.
Shifting the camera to her face Brooklynn gulped and said, “Oh, my gawd, Cree. That was so good.”
Struggling for breath I mumble, “You feel so good, Brooklynn,” before drifting off to sleep.
***
The following afternoon, when the east coast toils and the west coast rises, both an expected and fortuitous text read:
“Good morning, beautiful. How’d you like to go out for real this weekend? Maybe we can try that wall thing. I’m coming in early for training. Let me take you out on a proper date. Dinner, drinks, all that shit. Make a reservation wherever you want for Saturday night.”
Instantly I responded, “To be honest, I’d prefer an improper date. Let’s stay in. Come to my apartment. Pick up a couple of bottles of pinot noir on the way over, I’ll cook. How’s Jamaican chickpea and potato curry sound?”
“Like you’re trying to get wifed.”
“I’m just trying to feed you. Don’t be late!”
***
On Saturday the smell of garlic, onions, and spices filled the air.
Brooklynn arrived on time. After a hug that lifted me up onto my tippy toes she announced, “Oh my gawd it smells good in here. What did I do to deserve all of this?” And darted into the kitchen. I followed and passed her a spoon. Before dipping it in, she leaned over the pot, closed her eyes, inhaled and remarked, “You made this for me?”
“I did.”
Brooklynn reached down, wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. I slumped into her embrace and marveled at the combination of her soft lips and sturdy grip. Her hair swept against my cheek and the pressure of her hand against my lower back steadied my torso. I felt myself getting lost and quickly wiggled free.
Playfully, I slapped her shoulder and said, “Don’t make me burn this food and we have nothing to eat.”
She pulled me in harder, gripped my chin and kissed me one more time before letting me go. Brooklynn stated, “I’m gonna go get fresh,” and disappeared into the restroom. She quickly returned announcing, “So, funny story. I went to pack my strap but when I opened the drawer I found them all cut in half. My ex must’ve done it before she left. I didn’t even notice until this morning.”
“Oop! What’d you do to that poor woman to make her THAT angry? She said, these are MY dicks!”
We laughed.
“I was trying to show you.” She playfully spit back and mused, “Nah. For real though, everybody ain’t for everyone. You know, it just wasn’t a good fit.”
I pivoted, touching her cheek and kissing her, “Well, I’m thankful for all of the things in our lives that had to happen so we could be right here, right now.”
Staying the course Brooklynn says, “I almost stopped to pick a new one up, but I didn’t want to be late for dinner.”
“I appreciate that. Anyway, we don’t need it.” I responded.
“Man, Cree, I was having dreams about that little scene on the wall. I was so ready.”
“Don’t you worry, Brooklynn. I have my ways,” I stated, assured of my new course of action.
We ate dinner, flowing in and out of conversation, touching hands above the table and feet beneath it. Brooklynn offered to do the dishes and I disappeared off into the room. I took my time, slowly removing my own clothes and trading them for x-rated apparel.
Black sheer lingerie, per Brooklynn’s fantasy request.
A quick spritz of rose water and rose oil behind the ear.
Red lipstick.
I heard the water stop, so I paused the melodic dinner music and hit play on something more seductive. The constant, sonorous bass and wine joined forces in a plot against decency. As I walked from candle to candle, lighting flames around the room, Brooklynn walked in drying her hands like the first time we met. But, this time I knew what they could do. My body remembered and my face, very likely, gave my thoughts away. I turned to face her and paused to let her take me in. I locked into Brooklynn’s eyes and like a seductress, deliberately, steadily approached. Without words, I placed my hands on her shoulders and led her out of the doorway, into the room and up against the wall inside. Mildly giddy, she pulled a hair-tie from her wrist and swept her curls up into a messy bun. A light tug at her waistline begged permission for removal. She unbuttoned her jeans, I unzipped them. We maneuvered them down her legs and took them off, one leg at a time.
“I want it all,” I said, standing face to face, pulling gently at her boxers. Leaning further back against the wall, she locked her fingers behind her head. Without a sound, she challenged me to take charge. Delighted, I lowered my mouth to pull at her waistband and let it snap back against her skin. I pulled her baby blue boxers down from below and tapped each knee, requesting permission for her to widen her stance. Her skin smelled like cologne, I couldn’t tell what kind. Her legs were slightly stubbled. I placed my palms against the inside of her soft thighs and pushed them open, wider still. I could smell her pussy and cologne together.
Anxious and breathless, I asked, “Is this okay?” Eyes closed, she gulped and nodded “Yes.”
I stood up, raised my mouth to her ear. Before speaking, I drug the warm inside of my bottom lip along the tip of her earlobe and then whispered, “What would you like me to lick? Your pussy? Your clit? Your dick? Your strap? Tell me what to put in my mouth.”
She leaned her head into mine and gasped, “Put my strap in your mouth.”
I already knew.
I put her earlobe between my teeth and bit down, just a little, testing my authority. I drug my hands down her sides and clawed tightly at her hips as I slid down the length of her body and onto my knees. I ran my fingers over her manicured pussy and teased at parting them with my thumb while kissing the inside of her thigh. She opened her legs further, to invite me in. Her bulging clit laid across the bridge of my nose as I swayed my tongue, dividing her pussy like a padlock to the promised land. Lovingly, I licked up and into her, slowly layering her tart filling into my salivating mouth. I entered her and curled my tongue like limbs opening wide and pulsing for the sky in an African dance. Halting for a deep breath in and chance to switch the beat, I noticed Brooklynn’s pussy smeared in my red lipstick and imagined it covering my face. I didn’t care. Drenched in fantasy, I endeavored, “Your dick is so hard” and looked up to gauge her reaction. A small, approving gasp filled the mouth she left open. So, I continued.
“I love the way your hard dick fills my mouth. It’s so big and so thick. Your cum is so sweet. I can’t wait to taste your nut.” I said, dragging a finger up from the opening of her pussy to the tip of her clit. Making eye contact, I placed the finger in my mouth and licked it clean. “I’m going to suck your dick until you burst.”
I began to lick from the root of her clit up to the tip, with exaggerated head movement like it is as lengthy as our imaginations. Smacking and slurping on the way up. Moaning on the way down. I wrapped my lips around her clit entirely and sucked loudly. Sensation and the soundtrack of slurping, gagging, and bass set the stage. “You dick is so hard. I want to savor you,” I croon before pushing my lips as close as possible into the space around her clit and pressing it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. My tongue undulated to the rhythm of the music playing in the background and gripped her clit between the ridged roof of my mouth and the textured center of my tongue. Her clit thumped and I pulled back with a jerk of my head, extra pressure in my tongue, and feigned choking. All but Brooklynn’s knees stiffened. Her arms dropped beside her and her fingers splayed wide against the wall. I knew her breathing quickened by the rise and fall of her sculpted belly. I reached up to steady her and pressed my palm flat against her lower abdomen, matching the pressure in my mouth. I slid my flat, wide tongue down the length of her pussy to make the tip of her clit reach as far down my throat as it will go and with an open mouth licked up and down, up and down, up and down, choking again, this time twice as loudly. Brooklynn matched my intensity and growled. Her voice dropped an octave lower and entered my body from below. Her weighty tone twisted inside me, knocking against my pussy until I held it tight. My pussy thumped in time with the pulsating clit between my lips. I paused to confirm, “I can feel your dick getting harder and longer. I can’t wait for you to cum in my mouth. I’m so greedy. I want your cum to drip down my tongue and spill down my throat.” I moaned alluringly and returned to the show.
Brooklynn was at the verge of overflowing.
Abruptly, I stopped to adjust my position and watch her writhe and whimper. I scanned her body from top to bottom. Her feet were firmly planted and spread wide. Her knees, slightly bent and bracing her as she impatiently slid her back up and down the wall. Her ass, with a shallow, needy stroking motion, curled in and out. Her hands reached for me, pulling me softly toward her, begging for me to return. Her shoulders braced her body against the wall. Her eyes were definitively fixed on my mouth. Her hair, disheveled in combat. She bit her lip, and fixed her voice to beg, “Oh, Cree, suck my dick, please.”
With my hands wrapped around either leg, I drug my fingertips along the back of her knees and teasingly asked, “Do you want me to stop.”
“Fuck, no.”
Then say, “Please don’t stop, Cree.”
“Please don’t stop, Cree,” she gasped.
Pinching her clit between my thumb and fingers I pulled upward and stroked, simulating a proper handjob.
“Can you feel me stroking you? I feel you swelling up and throbbing. Let me make you drip.” I said before allowing a dewdrop to gather in my own mouth, and spitting exactly onto her pump clit while stretching her between my fingertips. Desperate to be saturated, I dove my face back into her and sucked mercilessly. My breath heaved and strained as though I was underwater, struggling for air. The wetter her pussy got, the more my mouth salivated and the louder I slurped. Her hands finally dropped and settled on my shoulders. Her nails dug into my neck and her stomach muscles tightened.
I ordered, “Grab my head and fuck my face, Brooklynn,” before sucking her clit like milkshakes through a straw. Her palms compressed my cheeks and her fingers intertwined behind my head guiding my face closer between her legs and dictating my pace while I sucked and pulled her clit begging, “Cum in my mouth!” just she shuddered and buckled at the knees.
Nothing makes me feel more powerful than making a woman orgasm.
She caught me watching as she gathered her balance and composure. I was waiting for her eyes. When I knew she could see, I wiped her cum into my chin, neck, and over my breasts.
“Lay on the bed.” I commanded. “On your stomach.”
“What are you going to do?” Brooklynn asked.
“What do you want me to do?” I flirtatiously countered. Pausing, assessing her comfort and desire, she responded, “I trust you,” and slid onto the bed, face down.
Brooklynn laid there with her arms and legs spread out like a starfish. For a second, I considered laying beside her, playing with her hair, rubbing her back and letting her sleep. But, lust took over when I let my eyes wander up her long legs and over her ass. Brooklynn had cakes and I vowed never to mention them to her unless she brought it up. But, while I had her mostly naked and spread across my bed, I vowed to indulge. So, again, I spread her thighs as widely as she allowed and slipped my face between them. This time, stretching my tongue and entering her from behind. My hands wrapped around her thighs and thumbs pressed between them adding pressure and pleasure.
She moaned with new depth and softness as I pulled her open and dipped my tongue into her, twisting and twirling inside her pussy. After getting us both sufficiently wet, I licked up between her ass cheeks. Approvingly, she curved her spine and pointed her ass to the ceiling. My heart raced with delight. Sensing her openness, I twirled my tongue in place and teased at entry below with my fingertip, tracing her round and round.
“That feels good.” she said as I cautiously slid into her pussy with my middle finger.
“Is this okay? Can I go faster?” I asked.
“Go slowly.”
“Like this?” I responded, gliding gently.
“Yes, just like that.”
Boldly adding another sensation, I pulled her thighs and ass open with my free hand and bore my face between them. Licking around one entry and pulsing in and out of the other. I think this is her spot. Her pussy instantly melted and dripped down my wrist. Her filling splashed onto my face as I flicked the tip of my tongue into her ass and tussled with my fingers inside her.
“A little harder.” Brooklynn bashfully requested.
“Like, this? Tell me what you like.” I complied.
“A little softer. Oh, like that. That’s perfect.” She whimpered.
I could feel my pussy throbbing, in response to each one of Brooklynn’s cries. My body mirrored hers when her pussy clenched around my fingers. I remember what her touch felt like, especially the first time. I wiggled them as much as restriction allowed and carried on with tongue-twirling elsewhere, further spreading my red lipstick on her skin and mine.
Brooklynn’s body got softer and her voice got deeper. Both masculine and feminine seemed to be in a shared ethereal state: Distant and present, calm and wild. I want to reach for them and please them both so stroke down, toward her body and the bed. I turn and stroke up, in the direction of titillating ass-play and heaven. That’s her spot.
“Say it,” I ordered.
Brooklyn yielded, “Please don’t stop, Cree.”
I leaned forward, laid my breasts on her back and nibbled at her ear before saying, “Cum on me, Brooklyn,” and resuming my stroke.
Before she could answer, her body locked around my fingers and abandoned authority.
I pulled out, drew back, and thought, Ashara was right.
As the tremors settled, I pulled up behind her, brushed her hair aside, kissed her temple, and asked, “Do you like to cuddle?”
Recalling our first night together she chuckled and mumbled with her eyes closed, “Get over here.”
She flipped over, and in an act of defiance snatched my waist to pull me close into her sports bra covered chest. “I’m still the big spoon,” she asserted.
Ashara was definitely right.