Loading...Oh my god, its HER. My breath catches so suddenly I have to put out a hand to the wall and steady myself. My right hand of course. My left hand is holding my Champagne glass and although I want to catch her attention, the sound of breaking glass is not how I prefer to do that.
My name is Serena. My parents named me that in the fond hope I would be serene. I like to think I am. I don’t think that they expected I would turn out to be a lesbian and a butch to boot. That’s not always an easy road to travel, particularly when you’re black. I think I’ve handled it though. I’m fifty, single with a full life and no real desire to settle down. I work for myself, running my store “Asides” where I sell a variety of products from candles to books of lesbian poetry to my own metal sculptures. I make a good living for myself and enjoy how I make that living.
How I make that living is why I’m here tonight at the first concert of the city Symphony Orchestra and incidentally for the reception after the music is over. As a local artist I rated an invitation. Sure, I’m paying for the seat and for the privilege of hob-nobbing with the intelligentsia but I’d pay more. If nothing else, the attempts to suppress the looks of surprise when I arrive are worth the cost of admission. I thought about tails and a top hat but simply went with my hand tailored tuxedo.
Perhaps I’m giving the wrong impression. Yes I do love the startled looks I get. But many, most perhaps, of the people here are friendly and accepting. I think a number of them get a kick out me, all dressed up in what they consider male attire and flirting with all the ladies, young and old, plain and gorgeous, just as the men do. Unless I make a point of drawing attention to it, the coat hides the fact that I am wearing a brand new strapon. I don’t expect to have the opportunity to use it but I enjoy knowing its there and I’m taking the time suggested by the manufacturer to get used to it.
I was circulating through the crowd, taking the opportunity before the music began to chat with different acquaintances and an occasional customer. Don’t get me wrong, I quite enjoy classical music and tonight’s program had several favorites but I need to make a living too and upper-class patrons of the arts have more disposable income than most people.
The bell had just rung telling us to find our seats when I saw her. At first I wasn’t sure it was really her. After all, from behind, all tall, cool blondes tend to blend together. But then she turned around and my heart leaped as I recognized her.
It had been several months since the afternoon she and I had spent together in the loft where I live over my store. To be precise, we had spent that afternoon in the queen sized bed in my loft where I had happily ravaged her, with her enthusiastic support.
I studied her. She was standing sideways to me now. She was as lovely as the first time she walked into my store. A light blue strapless and sleeveless dress that showed off the white of her arms and shoulders. The dress clung to her, accentuating her body. A slit up the side showed off those firm slender legs. Matching high heeled sandals that were practically nothing at all framed her feet. She might be wearing fine white pantyhose but I was willing to bet they were thigh high stockings. A shift in weight and I smiled as I caught a glimpse of flowery tops and a single garter strap. Her blonde hair was swept up in the back of her head. If she was wearing make-up, beyond a touch of lipstick, it was invisible from where I was standing.
I thought about going up to her but hesitated. She was standing in a group, none of who I knew. One of those people standing there could be a husband, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a life partner. I simply didn’t know. It was almost funny. Had I not known her at all, had she simply been a woman who caught my interest I would have walked right up and introduced myself. But I couldn’t make myself approach her. Perhaps I could catch her eye later. And more than her eye if I could.
The crowd surged forward into the auditorium and I lost track of her. I found my seat, murmured pleasantries to the people around me and settled in listen to the first half of the concert. Or tried to anyway. I was distracted.
My beautiful sexy blonde was only part of the problem. Tonight I was wearing something new in place of my old reliable strapon. There was no harness. A single silicone piece, it was curved with a bulbous end that fit up inside me and held it there. Ridges in the molded curve coming out of my vagina were designed to stimulate my clitoris during sex.
Supposedly when NOT actually engaged in sex it rode comfortably and without triggering any arousal on its own. Well, that was probably true, but as I kept twisting and turning and searching the darkened auditorium for a light blue dress topped by blonde hair I felt it shifting in me. Of course I was aroused on my own as I remembered a tall, slender pale body under me, arms over her head and wrists tied to the headboard. I remembered long strong legs locked around me. And then I could have blushed and I thanked goodness that the theatre was dark, for my hand had slid between my legs and I was pressing the distinct bulge of the girl cock, rocking it inside me. Yes, those ridges worked just fine.
I snatched my hand back up, peeking out of the corners of my eyes to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully it didn’t appear anyone had. That would be great for business. “Say Mary, remember that black butch in the tuxedo at the Symphony? She was jerking on the artificial bulge in her pants right in front of everyone.” I mean, I am comfortable with who I am, I like me and usually I think “To Hell with you” when people look down at me. Still, I had been a little over the top and I was glad it had gone undetected.
People were standing and applauding. Automatically I was on my feet with them. I had sat here all the way through the first half of the concert and not heard a note. As I made my way out to the lobby I vowed to pay more attention in the second half.
Once again I mingled through the crowd but this time I had a purpose. It was to no avail though, no matter where I looked, there was no trace of her. I returned to my seat just before the lights dimmed again, half convinced that I had imagined the entire thing.
This time I listened to and enjoyed the music. Most was familiar, with just enough new pieces mixed in to make me pay attention. There were several solo performances, including one very intricate and delightful flute piece. I sat back and drank it all in.
After the concert there was an opportunity for the “patrons” (which translates as “donated enough money”) to meet the conductor and the principal performers. Well, its a tax write-off. And besides, I was really enjoying myself, particularly when I found myself chatting to the solo flutist.
She was a tiny woman, barely 5 feet tall at most. Her black hair was cut just below her ears and she had the loveliest deep brown eyes I had ever seen. I generally prefer my women taller and more rounded, but she was an exquisite little gem. She was shy and retiring but opened right up when it came to music, her knowledge of which was broad and deep. She was neither intimidated nor surprised by me, with her head tipped back to look up in my eyes as we talked. She touched my arm twice as she made a point, and when she told me she needed to leave she patted my side for a moment before wishing me a lovely night and disappearing.
I turned to get another glass of Champagne and there she was. My elegant blonde bombshell. She was working her way through the crowd, speaking to others and nodding and smiling. My fingers tightened on the stem of the glass as she stopped beside me. She shook hands with me, asked how I was doing and told me it was so nice to see me again. She asked about the store and listened to what I had to say. As with our previous meetings, it seemed she really was listening to what I said. After a bit she nodded, smiled warmly, and moved on.
I drained my glass and moodily set it back on the tray. Well it was nice to get acknowledged anyway. Maybe it was time to go. I turned and froze again.
She was standing by the door, looking right at me. I couldn’t read the expression on her face. But then her hand touched her thigh and her fingers curled around the hem of the long slit in her skirt. For a moment she drew it back, showing me that long, gracefully formed leg and the creamy white thigh spilling from the top of her stocking. Then she turned and walked out.
I followed her. If I was wrong, if that gesture had not been an invitation or hadn’t been for me, well, I would find out soon enough. We went through the door and down a short hallway and I discovered we were back in the auditorium. She took a right turn and followed the wall. At first I thought we were leaving the hall but just before the exit she turned again, through a curtained archway I had barely noticed before.
I hurried to close the distance between us. We were climbing stairs now and my eyes were riveted on the sway of her ass and the movement of her legs. She had to know I was behind her but she showed no sign of it, never looking back. Then we reached the top of the stairs. A line of small doors was on the left. She entered the third one, leaving it open behind her. Without hesitation I walked through the doorway.
I sensed the door closing and turned around as a slight click announced the tripping of a lock. There she was, my blonde temptress, leaning against the door. I managed to tear my eyes away long enough to look around. We were in a small curtained alcove, obviously one of the private boxes over looking the main auditorium. The cleaning crew must have already been here, there were no chairs, no furniture of any kind. But I didn’t need anything but her as she let her hair fall around her shoulders.
Two steps is all that I needed to reach her. I locked my mouth onto her’s. Red lips parted and my tongue plunged deeply into the warm welcoming mouth. My hands were on her shoulders, caressing the smooth skin.
As I ravaged her mouth, my hands slid down. In one quick movement I hooked the front of the blue dress and pulled down, spilling her exquisite breasts. I took them and found the nipples rock hard already against my fingers. I pinched and pulled and rolled them until I thought she was going to scream in my mouth. Then my lips replaced my fingers as they slid down her sides, grasped the fine material of her dress and began to work it up her legs. My right hand found the slit up the side and brushed over her stocking top. I bit gently on one nipple and plucked the garter strap my fingers found, snapping it against her thigh. She gasped and then I felt her hands on mine, helping me pull up her dress.
The instant her dress cleared her hips I unzipped my slacks and pulled my new girlcock free. There were so many things I wanted to do. I wanted to push her to her knees and have her suck it. I wanted her on all fours and me spanking her as I took her from behind. But one quick look down made up my mind. Above her stocking tops was nothing but her garter belt and her. No panties. Droplets already clung to the fine blonde hair.
I gripped her ass, as deliciously tight and firm as I remembered it, and lifted her. She clung to my neck, her eyes meeting mine. I lowered her onto the tip of the shaft. There was a moment where I was not exactly in the right position, then she shifted slightly and I was sliding deeply up inside my gorgeous white lady.
I echoed her moan. My god, the advertisement for this new piece of equipment was right on the mark. The part deep inside me was massaging my G-spot and the ridges were already giving my clit a workout. And from the sounds my white goddess was making, muffled though they were by my neck, she was enjoying her impalement too.
I staggered slightly under her weight as she settled down onto the up thrust silicone cock. It took only a second to pin her against the wall and for her legs to surround me again, her ankles locking on my ass. I began to thrust, wasting no time on a slow build up. I wanted what I wanted last time, to fuck her, to make her mine if just for these few minutes. My hips drove, back and forth, up and down. I held her between me and the wall, supporting us both. She was rising and falling on my strapon, her strong arms helping her to meet me each time I drove into her.
Suddenly she stopped as I drew back. Using the grip of her legs on my waist she held herself in the air, pulling the girlcock from her pussy. A hand reached down between us and she took the shaft in her fingers. Whispering to me “Wait, wait,” she slid the soaking head back along her perineum until the sensation of something trying to give told me the tip had touched her puckered hole.
“Oh yes,” I couldn’t help but gasp. I had wanted to take my elegant lady in her taut ass from the first time I saw her. Now I was going to at her invitation.
Out of courtesy I let her take the lead. After all, it wasn’t MY ass that silicone cock was slowly working its way up inside, especially since the only lubricant was the coating of woman’s nectar she had already left on the shaft. Her leg muscles were quivering, letting that lovely body lower bit by bit as her arms slowly relaxed. The blonde head tipped back and her eyes closed, mouth open in a soundless cry of passion.
I held her, my fingers squeezing and releasing the firm cheeks. A change of position was indicted I thought. I turned around and leaned back against the wall, bracing my shoulders and the back of my head. My feet were spread wide and more than a foot away from the wall. She leaned back too. Biting her lip, her eyes still closed, she released the tight grip her hands had on my shoulders and sank onto the upright dildo until her ass cheeks met my legs.
I did nothing else for a few moments, allowing her to fully accustom herself to the intruder deep inside her ass. Them, as before, she began to move. Slowly at first, almost gingerly. Her hands crept back around my neck and she leaned towards me now. Her muscled legs flexed, helping her rise and fall farther and faster each time. My hips were beginning to pump back, meeting her each time she fell onto the girlcock.
My blonde beauty’s face was screwed up into a grimace and her eyes were still closed tightly. Had she not been repeating a gasping “Oh God, yes, Oh God, yes,” I might have worried she was not enjoying herself. Of course the way she was bouncing harder and harder on my new dildo, riding it deeper with each stroke of my hips, each rise and fall of her pale body would have tipped me off that everything was good.
And that was good, because everything for me was approaching critical mass. Every motion, every vibration of her body on one end of the new cock transmitted deep inside of me. Its like she was fucking me as well as me fucking her. A vagrant thought passed through my head. Maybe one day I would have to let someone fuck me. I never had, I had always been the one wearing the strapon but maybe I should…. Never mind, I’d think about that later because right now I was coming like a railroad train was about to hit me.
And so was my beautiful white lover. I could feel the bottoms of her spike heels digging into my ass. She pulled herself against me and her hands beat on my back. I kissed her and we both muffled screams in each others’ mouths as both of us orgasmed again and again.
After we finally were able to breathe again I gently slid out of her ass and lowered her until her feet touched the floor. She surprised me again. I worked my new dildo back inside my pants (I guess its easier for guys since I understand theirs deflate after sex, something mine does not) and straightened my coat. That only took moments, but by the time I turned around, that other woman was once again the tall, cool and collected blonde she had been at first sight tonight. Her hair was down but neatly arranged and I swear her dress wasn’t even wrinkled. How did she do that? Was it some sort of femme mystique not known to butches?
She kissed me and touched my cheek. An impish look crossed those perfect features. “I saw you, you know, earlier tonight. That’s why I didn’t have any panties on. I took them off at intermission in case I still interested you.”
“You always interest me,” I replied.
“Good,” she said. She smiled one more time and then she was gone. I took a deep breath and managed somehow to find my way back to the now nearly empty parking lot and my car.
That night at home I carefully hung up the tux. As I did, a slight bulge in the jacket pocket caught my attention. From it I drew out a wisp of blue lace that was every bit as sexy and as tiny as I knew her panties had to be. I smiled and laid it under my pillow.
One of these days I really need to learn her name. I smiled again as I withdrew a crumpled piece of paper from another pocket. I had one name anyway, and a phone number to go with it. I was looking forward to seeing if that cute little flutist would fit on my lap.
(The End)