by Amanda Boone
Atta girl, I thought to myself, celebrating my victory in pulling her a little out of her sexual shell. I took a look at her pussy lips. They were coffee-colored, darker than I expected based on her skin-tone, but they were smooth on slick. Was she aroused? “They’re so pretty! I love your pussy. It’s adorable. Your lips are like butterfly wings.” A smile spread modestly across her face, as the flattery set in. “And plus, mine look more like that when I’m turned on. They just go into hiding the rest of the time.”
“Can you . . .show me?” She was slow to make eye-contact, and when I turned my eyes back her pussy, it was undeniably wet with arousal. Avoiding moving faster than she was ready for, I maintained my clinical demeanor, though her pussy juices had gotten mine moving as well.
“Sure!” I enthused, thankful that black women don’t blush very obviously. I moved over to my bed and leaned back on one elbow, with the opposite hand reaching for my clit. “Come. Sit. Join in when you’re ready.”
She sat beside me, her knees together, angling herself so she could get a good look at my pussy as I rubbed myself. “Your clit is so pink!” she said, with genuine surprise. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but looking at it reminds me of those chocolate-covered cherries. Chocolate on the outside, pink on the inside.”
“Definitely!” I laughed, rubbing my clit in small circles. “Check this out. It’s even pinker inside.” I spread my moistening lips for her. She didn’t say anything, only widened her eyes.
“Give your pussy some love,” I said.
“I really . . . I really don’t know what I’m doing. Can I just watch you more to see if I can figure it out?”
“Give me your hand,” I said, already grabbing for it. She didn’t resist. Her hand felt so fragile in mine. I briefly thought that she should be a violinist or pianist before placing her hand over mine as I continued to rub myself. The feeling of her fingers so close to my pussy, the thought of her feeling me, the knowledge of her arousal, all combined forces to turn me on more than I had been in recent memory. Something about her innocence, about her reluctance, and about her femininity drove me wild. I had never been with a woman, and Susie was such a picture of girliness that I could feel my pussy throbbing with the desire to take this further.
Neither of us said anything as I moved my hand away, allowing hers to continue the movements I was making against my clit. Her smaller fingers felt so delicate cradling my love-button.
There was no protest when I moved my hand to her mound, when I ran my fingers through the wispy thicket of pubic hair and down into her tight cleft. I explored her slit gently with my fingertips, making a point of teasing her butterfly-lips, pulling softly and teasingly, so she could see what an advantage they could be.
Her pussy was wet and warm, and I could feel my own womanhood growing slick and hot against her fingers, which were growing more confident, more insistent. I gave up pretending I wasn’t loving it, and I let out a long moan as she pinched my pink clit adoringly. She responded with her own gasping whimper as I pressed the pads of my first two fingers against her hole, and I turned to her, lying beside me, and sucked her Hershey nipple into my mouth.
With some hesitation but more curiosity, she slid a finger into me, and I threw my head back just as a look of surprise appeared on her face. By the feel of it, she had never had anything in her pussy, so she was impressed at how accommodating mine was. I opened my eyes to see her asking me a question with her eyes. I nodded, and she slid another finger into my pulsing hole, eliciting another groan on my part.
I could feel that her pussy was not going to welcome my fingers yet, so I pulled her fingers out of mine slowly, enjoying the tug, and slid myself down to where I could kneel between her knees on the bed. Without giving her time to say anything, and without giving myself time to overthink another first experience, I slurped her pretty lips into my eager mouth. Susie almost kicked me off with the bucking of her hips as my suction moved to her clit, which was hidden behind its hood until my tongue coaxed it out. She began to push me off, but instead threaded her fingers into my hair. I lightly flicked her pearl with the very tip of my tongue, playing with her sensitivity. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically. Her hips were grinding into the mattress as she struggled even to moan.
As I was preparing to insert my first finger, she pulled me and gestured for me to turn around. At first hesitant, I threw caution to the wind. What was there to be cautious about now? I turned to place a knee on each side of her head, my pussy hovering right within reach of her tongue.
I went back to work gobbling her juicy mound when, to my surprise, she grabbed my ass and spread my cheeks. It was my turn to be shy. Now, I considered my butt to be my best feature. I was always game to make that the main event of a striptease or a lap dance, but I had never had anyone eat my asshole. As Suze’s tongue began circling it, I resisted, and even stifled a giggle because it tickled. She persisted, though, and as I relaxed and went back to work on Suze’s lady parts, I grew to really enjoy the sensation of her probing.
Panting heavily, I lamented when she moved her surprisingly talented tongue away from my asshole, but only for the moment before she moved to give me a long lick along my pussy lips. They were swollen with desire, and expressing themselves outwardly, much more as Susie’s lips were all the time. My own little butterfly trembled as she ran her tongue, swerving, along the length of my sex. She stopped at the apex each time to lap at my clit for just long enough that I was on the verge of coming into her mouth.
I slipped a finger into her vagina, now eager and wet, and she did the same with mine. She would halt her own fingering every time I kneaded her g-spot, making a “come hither” motion with one, then two fingers. It was as though I was inviting her orgasm to play with us.
It must have only been minutes of intense pussy play, but it felt like days. Our breathing slowed, then matched, and it felt as though we were unified in the climb to our simultaneous climax. We both only managed to utter “I’m . . . huh . . . cuu . . . huh . . .mmmm. . .” before we broke out in panting yelps. Our legs and hips shuddered, pleasure running like an electric current from our toes to our scalps.
We lay tangled, kissing one another’s pubic hair, and breathed. Sweat made us glisten in the light of my bedside lamp. “So yeah . . .” I finally managed to say between breaths, “you’re going to love the Rabbit.”
Chapter 3
It may have been sex-drunkenness, but somehow, I managed to convince Susie to give stripping a whirl the next night. My club had Amateur Night on Wednesdays, and under the condition that she could conceal her identity with a mask and a fake name—Miss Tai—she decided she would give her a try. I suppose I opened some Pandora’s Box by opening Susie’s. Something seemed to unlock inside her, and she was suddenly standing taller and looking people in the eye. It had only been a day, but I was hoping the confidence boost would last. She certainly gave the impression of an “empowered” woman.
That Wednesday was going to be special for our club because an A-List rapper named BoneZone was going to be in attendance with his entourage. My manager decided it would be good to have his best girls perform along with the amateurs. I would be dancing too, providing moral support to Miss Tai as she busted a move for the first time.
Fortunately, my boss kept the special guest a relative secret from the general public, per BoneZone’s request. The club was busy, but not nearly as crowded as I had expected. If there had been many more people, Suze may have chickened out. As it was, as soon as she put on her mask, she became a different person. She took her alter ego seriously. As though she’d been waiting for someone to give her permission to be a sexual being, her desire to be naked and arouse an audience couldn’t be contained.
I performed first. In commemoration of my tryst with Susie, I danced to Khia’s “My Neck, My Back.” Susie looked on from right behind the curtain, smiling and laughing as I bounced my ass and titties for the pleasure of the front row. The rap crew was in the back corner, in our
seldom used VIP section, but I had no idea which one was the star. I didn’t pay him much mind anyway. I just did my thing as usual, though showing Miss Tai how it was done gave me incentive to make things a little extra raunchy. I sucked on my nipples and put my pussy just out of reach of some poor soul in front row. I dropped the full weight of my ass on another one’s lap. They certainly seemed to enjoy it, and I left with more cash than usual. There must be something to increasing the slut factor.
Susie chose “Smack My Bitch Up” by The Prodigy, and before I could say, “Good luck,” she was on the stage. She wore black cat ears and a matching mask that covered the space around her eyes. She wasn’t acrobatic, but she was enthusiastic, and that’s sometimes better. The crowd howled as she pulled off her black lace corset, revealing her perky boobs. She pinched her excited nipples with a look of fake shyness—the Asian women are so good at that one. Turning around to carry on the modesty act, she shook her little ass and the black cat tail she wore around her waist. Holding the tail in one hand, she pulled open her cheeks with the other, looking over her shoulder bashfully. The men and women of the audience ate it up as she hooked her thumbs around her g-string and pulled it off one high-heel at a time. She bent over enough to give the crowd a perfect shot of her recently virginal, tufted pussy.
When Susie’s set was over, and once the crowd’s hoots and hollers died down, she came back through the curtain, smiling radiantly. “That was awesome!” she said. “I want to go back out.”
“You were so great! And I had a feeling you’d like it. Chill backstage for a bit, or go out front to watch the other girls. I got called for a private dance, so I’ll be back in a bit.”
During Suze’s dance, my manager came back to tell me discreetly that BoneZone loved my show and that he wanted to meet me in a private room. “This could be big for you, Kara,” he had said. “This could be big for all of us. Do your stuff, young lady!” Louis, my boss, was a sweet older guy who broke the stereotype of the slimy strip-club owner. He was just a regular man, trying to make an honest buck and enjoy some T&A in the process.
I normally enjoyed private dances because I got off on making guys really squirm. This time, though, I wasn’t especially enthusiastic. Something about all of the pomp around this rapper’s arrival—his traveling 10-men deep and wearing all that ice—left me annoyed. I wasn’t convinced I would be able to fake excitement with him.
He was already sitting in the chair when I walked in the room, which was lit dimly in purple. There was a black doo-rag on his head, and he was wearing a black and silver letterman jacket. “Pussy Poppin” by Ludacris came in through the speakers. That song was usually my jam, but I made it a point to show this guy I wasn’t impressed by his fame.
“How are you doin', sweetie?” His voice was a gravelly baritone. I resisted loving the sound of it as I undid my top and placed breasts at his eye-level.
“It’s a good night. How about you?” I usually laid the pet-names on pretty thick with customers—an old sales trick—but the fact that he’d started by using one with me changed that. My big ass was on his lap.
“Better now. What’s your name, darlin'?”
“You can call me Caramel.”
“A dark-skinned sister like you? Naw. What’s your real name?”
“You don’t have to worry about that, BoneZone.”
“Fair enough. You should call me Brian though. What got you into stripping, if you don’t mind my asking?”
I did. I always minded when they asked that question. He tried to break the no touching rule, but I pushed his hands down to his sides and gave him a look that froze most men who tried that much. He just caught my gaze and smiled. He was very handsome, more so than his album covers and magazine covers showed. I wasn’t ready to admit to myself that I was attracted to him.
“I’m paying for school.”
“Right,” he said. “Now what’s the real reason?”
“Seriously. I’m going to school. This is how I pay for it. Not everyone spends their money on cars and jewelry.” I was probably being injudicious with my candid remarks, but my attraction to him combined with my distaste for what he stood for were a nasty combination.
“Easy, girl. That’s great. I’m glad to see a sister in college. And for what it’s worth, the label provides that stuff to me. It’s an image thing. When I started, I couldn’t afford it because of student loans. I could now, but I’d rather invest.”
My hands stopped mid-panty drop to give him an incredulous look. He locked eyes instead of looking at my pussy.
“What? A rapper can’t be educated?”
“You really went to college?”
“For seven years. I have an MBA. Music is my first love, but you gotta have a back-up plan, right?”
“I guess . . .so.” I felt my defenses lowering, and try as I might, I couldn’t resist my interest in this man.
“Listen, Caramel . . .”
“It’s Kara.”
“Good. Kara. I can tell you like what you do. And you’re very good at it. I love your style. I’m also glad that you’re in school. I have a proposition for you.” The formal talk would have felt weird, but I realized that I had stopped dancing. I was instead just sitting, bare-assed, on his lap, looking him in the eyes. He seemed perfectly content with that arrangement.
“Here’s my proposition: I want you to work for me. That means dancing in my videos, in magazines, on album art if the design calls for girls. It also could mean servicing me and my boys from time to time. I’m sure you know what I mean.”
I tried to cut him off. “I—”
“This wouldn’t be prostitution. This would be a living arrangement with friends and colleagues. This would be you, making sure you’re financially set for life, and enjoying a little fame in the process.”
I was speechless.
He reached into his coat as I stood up and tugged my panties and bra back on. He pulled out an envelope. “I’m willing to pay your tuition. You want to see if I’m serious? Look in the envelope. That’s for one semester. Tomorrow, we have a video shoot at the address on the envelope. I want you there, and I’d like it if your friend, the Asian one, came too.”
Still speechless.
“I hope I see you tomorrow. If not, consider the money a gift.”
Chapter 4
Susie was even more excited than I was at the thought of being in a video. I may have created a monster, I thought to myself. Her only condition was that she could continue using a mask and her alias. I, on the other hand, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have BoneZone cover my tuition. Brian, as he’d asked me to call him, had made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Money had been a problem for me for as long as I could remember, and this was a relief of a major financial burden. I would have been conflicted about whether I should continue to strip because, in truth, I loved stripping and would find a way to do it whether or not I had school as a reliable justification. Fortunately, the nature of my working with Brian meant that I didn’t have to choose. I would be getting paid, getting exposure, and showing my body to an even larger audience. It was a dream.
We followed GPS directions to the address on the envelope and were stopped at the gate of a large mansion, hidden deep in greenery. Rented or owned? I wondered.
“Names?” inquired a large security guard in a gate-booth that was probably too small for him to inhabit comfortably.
“I’m Kara. This is Susie.”
“I have a Kara, but no Susie. She can wait at the gate.”
“Wait!” Suze was excited, and slid her mask onto her face. “Check for Miss Tai.”
We waited. “Yep,” he finally said. “I got a Miss Tai. Go on in ladies. Hang left at the curve. You’ll see the workers and the lighting equipment. There’s parking near the shoot.”
It was all starting to feel real. I allowed myself to share in some of Susie’s giddiness.
We arrived at the shoot, and it looked like we would be the only women
in the video. We went through makeup and were outfitted with flattering bras and booty shorts that covered just enough cheek to qualify as underwear.
“I’m glad you made it, college-girl,” came Brian’s voice from behind.
“It would be rude to turn down such a generous offer. Also, I thought it over, and I think it’s a good career move.” I realized while I was speaking that I was explaining too much.
“I just want to shake it!” Susie was incorrigible.
“Good, good. You’re looking very sexy. Basically, we just want you to dance to the song the way you did at the club. I know you’ll both be great. Here are some drinks to loosen you up.” He handed us each a strong daiquiri. We'd each had a few drinks before we showed, so we were already pretty loose. Looser was probably better in this case though.
The song was hot, a club banger, though I personally preferred the 90’s classics—Tribe, De La Soul, Fugees—but I could really bounce my ass to this one. What Brian hadn’t told us was that we would be stripping naked for part of the video. Inspired by videos like Nelly’s “Tip Drill” and the aforementioned “Pussy Poppin,” BoneZone hoped to capitalize on some controversy. Why not get up close and personal with some good looking naked women while he was at it?
The naked scene involved the two of us sitting nude in a hot tub where BoneZone and two of his boys, Mac and Pablo, were also chilling, lip-syncing to various parts of the song. Suze and I spent the shoot making out and occasionally standing up to show off our tits, asses, and pussies to the grateful boys and what would certainly be a very appreciative viewing audience.
It was easy for us to get into the shoot because we had so recently familiarized ourselves with each other’s body. We were mostly just supposed to rub on each other and give a couple spankings. More would distract from the rappers. Once BoneZone, who was directing, called it a wrap, however, we were free to play with one another. Brian went inside to get started on editing the shots, but Mac and Pablo stayed behind. They enjoyed watching our antics.
