Magical Lesbian

Bilay took off her pants and left them rolled up. Normally, seeing that would have irritated Charlie but her eyes were otherwise occupied.

“You like it?” asked Bilay, swaying sensuously.

Charlie said nothing, just stared.  Bilay’s pubic hair was thick, curly, full like the hair on her head and …quite colourful. Somehow, she’d dyed it purple and pink in an ombre, and, as she shimmied, the sun winking through the Venetian blinds picked the teardrop jewels arranged around her belly button and threw them all over the cream walls of the bedroom in a prism.

“It is beautiful,” said Charlie, finally. What she wanted to say was ‘How did you do that?’ and ‘How did you know those were my colours’ and ‘Who did it for you?’ and ‘Did it hurt?’ and most of all ‘I want to see under it and behind it’ but she said none of those things. She felt a thirst, but did not know if it was real or a Pavlovian response to Bilay’s juices, setting off the curls wetly at the end of her pubic hair.

“Oh, I have a guy that does it for me, on Balogun,” said Bilay, answering the unasked.

“Some guy,” Charlie replied. The silence hung and she almost filled it with a perfunctory ‘Shall we do this?’ because the nerves were getting the best of her.

Bilay lowered herself down on the bed, holding onto her breasts. “Well?” She kicked the rest of her maxi dress off her ankles.

“‘Well’, what?”

“Don’t just sit there swallowing. Is it everything you imagined it would be?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I mean…yes…I don’t know what I mean.” Charlie rubbed her face. “Tell me what I mean.”

Bilay lowered her chin, licked one of her areolas with the tip of her tongue and then the other. “You’re thinking you’re glad you chased me for so long?”

“Okay,” Charlie replied. “That was my worst bit in the whole thing but go on.”

“And you can’t believe I finally agreed to go out with you.”  She ran her hands down her body, around her hips and using her fingers, daintily parted herself like a curtain opening. A performance. Her thighs dimpled becomingly.  Charlie’s ears, face, neck, grew hot. She cleared her throat.

“I suppose that is true.,” she conceded.

Bilay tugged gently on a nipple. “Even though didn’t ask me properly and pretended only to want my friendship for years. And badmouthed anybody I was seeing, and hated yourself for doing so, then guiltily trying to get me to reconcile with them, even though neither of us was any good for the other and you were right all along?”

Charlie couldn’t trust herself to speak. It was hard being read so completely. Her jeans cut into her waist and she wanted to unbutton them after their heavy Italian lunch, but she didn’t want to move in case she broke the mood. Bilay had stripped quite suddenly. For all Charlie knew, she’d banged her head on the way out of the restaurant and the whole thing with Bilay  was a dream. She didn’t want to find out.

“Am I right?”

“Jeez woman, what do you want from me?”

“Honesty would be nice.”

Charlie felt the heat coming off her. Bilay’s flesh parted with a sigh, a slickness, glowing deep pink, framed by the iridescent mound. Her fingers flitted past the spear of her clitoris to dip into the pool of moisture. She drew it out, a silvery thread with grew thinner before it broke, sucked her finger.

“Mmmm,” she said and it was not an act. It was the sound of a woman who enjoyed her own essence.

Charlie broke.  She crawled on her knees, ignoring the sharp pain from Bilay’s discarded earring, the jab from her high heels. Her body trembled with lust. She put her lips to Bilay’s sopping flesh and without hesitation, kissed her. The hair tickled her noise. Charlie sneezed. Bilay laughed.

“Bless you,” she said, but Charlie wasn’t listening. She nibbled and suckled and licked, sticking a probing, throbbing tongue in. Bilay shuddered and it travelled down Charlie’s mouth and into her own body, tingling in her toes.

“Yes,” said Bilay, hissing the sibilant through clenched teeth.

Charlie stuck her tongue further in. Saliva dripped down her chin and the smell of sex filled her nostrils. Her own hands travelled into her trousers, stroking the already swollen nubbin. Bilay rubbed her nipples, pulled the tips of them between each thumb and forefinger, jiggled. The flesh rippled. Charlie abandoned her lover’s pussy and latched on to her nipple. She suckled and pulled, curling herself into Bilay’s warm, giving flesh.

“Kiss me,” said Bilay. Charlie obeyed. She was all feeling and sensation and did not want it to stop. Bilay held her tenderly, as if she was love. As if she was worthy of love. Charlie’s eyes smarted. She was about to cry.

“Stop,” she said. “I can’t kiss you.”

“Why not, my love?” asked Bilay, but Charlie looked away. Her mouth was full of Bilay’s taste, her smell. What did it matter, a small kiss? But it mattered, she knew it did. Eating Bilay’s pussy was different, but this kiss, this kiss would make what they were doing real, it would raise questions that she was not ready or willing to answer. Charlie couldn’t risk it, did not want to mar the pleasure she felt with questions and doubts which had plagued her all her life. What did it mean that she liked some girls this way and not others?

“Nothing, nothing,” Charlie swiped at her face, furious with herself.  She could not bear the thought that her whole life was a lie. But was it? She loved her fiancé, even now. Fell for him hard. Her love for David was deep and abiding. With Bilay, it was like falling with her eyes wide open. Charlie was both engaged in living her life and outside of it, watching herself. It was a discombobulating feeling.

“Hey, come back,” said Bilay, clicking her fingers. “Hot chick waiting here.”

She unbuttoned Charlie’s trousers. Off they came, sliding down like a banana skin. Her pants were next, leaving a snail’s trail on the inside of her thighs. Charlie held her knees together, suddenly shy. It was how she’d always been with men, stuck between insecurity and the appearance of innocence, which, she knew, turned them on. Bilay’s was having none of it. She slapped her knees with some force until Charlie opened them.

“Eh-hen,” said Bilay and dove.

Charlie wiggled under the onslaught. Bilay’s tongue was everywhere at once; there it was flicking her clitoris, there again, flat and hot and coarse, swiping over her slit. Bilay fucked her clit with a rolled tongue, a tiny vagina against the electric flesh. Charlie moaned, bunching the bed sheets under her hands. Each time she tried to scoot back and away, tried to stop herself from exploding from the sweetness of Bilay’s tongue, the latter pulled her down the bed again.

“For god’s sake,” said Bilay, frustration in her voice. “Let me eat this pussy. I’ve earned it.”

“You have, oh you have,” said Charlie. Despite the air conditioner, her armpits were wet. “Eat me. Eat all of me.”

Bilay laughed again, “Better,” and went back to it. Charlie juddered against Bilay’s incessant tonguing. Her nipples tightened, pointing insolently upwards and Bilay, looking up and seeing them, kneaded them with hot, gentle hands.

She broke off and spat on both palms and Charlie’s  nipples thrilled at the luxury. Joy washed through Charlie, free and soaring. She grabbed Bilay’s head in her hands, held her down in a spot. Bilay’s tongue was many tongues, tapping fast, faster.

“Oh God, Oh Gggggg…” Charlie spasmed, the blasphemy caught between her teeth and tongue. Bilay grabbed at her, spread her wider than her hips would allow and licked her clean from ass to clit until Charlie began to retch from feeling too damn much.

Bilay lay on her side, watching as Charlie’s breath returned to normal.“Was it everything you thought it would be?” she asked again, stroking herself.

Charlie turned her head. Bilay’s unselfconsciousness thrilled her. “No. It was more.”

“You’re learning,” said Bilay, not letting up on her stroking. She straddled Charlie, the glory of her bottom in Charlie’s face. Her outer lips were black, guarding the pink within. Her anus twitched, winking, insouciant. Bilay nailed Charlie in her gaze.

“Whatever you’re doing with your life sha, I am not your magical lesbian. I can’t be,” she said. “You’ll have to figure it all out by yourself.”

“Okay, ” said Charlie, watching Bilay’s fingers.

“I don’t expect you to come with me, but I am not getting back in the closet for anyone.”

“I never asked you to.” Charlie salivated. Bilay’s fingers were slick and webbed when she opened them.

“Good,” said Bilay. “Now take this noni.” She lowered herself onto Charlie’s face.

“God, it’s like carrying a sexy calabash,” Charlie said, a little sadly. They were too beautiful to eat.  Stretchmarks spread out on the tops of them, encircling each hip like waist beads.

Charlie stuck two fingers into Bilay and pumped as she licked, frothing her cream against the black skin of her magnificent labia.

This time when the tears came, she did not stop them.