Sexaholics (9 page)

And then Miki went straight to Valencia’s tender clit and gave a kiss
and lick on the outer skin. She used her thumb to pull back the hood, seeing
that her bud was expanded, emerging in anticipation for what was to come.

Miki focused on her girl’s breathing and grooved her tongue across
Valencia’s clit, clockwise and counterclockwise, squeezing her clit with
her lips, sucking it into her mouth, tickling it with lavish strokes. She then
used her mouth as a vacuum, using up-and-down tongue moves similar to sucking a
dick. Her head bobbed as she kept her rhythms exact. She sucked the clit to the
roof of her mouth, gave a tongue push and flick, and held it. She then inserted
one finger into Valencia’s greasy vagina and one finger against her
perineal skin, all while making up-and-down tongue motions.

Valencia ground like she was face-fucking and revved up in response, giving a
bucking jerk, then she became motionless.

Miki did not back away but kept at it with the same intensity, keeping the
rhythm going, feeling the pulsating of Valencia’s tiny red penis in her
mouth, and she held on. Knowing her friend as well as she did, she waited, then
continued as another rolling orgasm burst into her mouth. Miki let it take its
journey to full effect and then unravel little by little as it subsided. She
removed her mouth from Valencia’s smiling clitoris and couldn’t help
but smile herself.

Valencia had her wrist over her forehead with her eyes closed. “Damn. I
seen spots. I’m trippin, yo!”

Miki grinned.

“Chronic. I’m telling you. Your tongue is like
chronic.”

Miki giggled childlike and playfully popped Valencia on her thigh.
“Ooooh, yeah. Your shit is so damn sexy.” She came up to lie upon
her, kissing her neck and then coming mouth to mouth. They kissed each other
squarely.

Valencia backed away.
“Gracias.”

“You’re welcome.” Miki climbed off and lay next to her.

Valencia caught a glimpse of the digital clock. “Dammit. I have to go,
otherwise Greg is gonna have a damn fit.” Valencia looked reluctant. Her
BlackBerry rang from inside her purse, which was on the chair next to
Miki’s sleigh bed. She ignored it and swung her feet off the bed.
“Speaking of the devil.”

Ten seconds later, Miki’s iPhone rang. She reached over to the pine
nightstand to read the display. “It’s Tariq.” She didn’t
answer.

Valencia took in a long breath and forced herself to stand, preparing to
leave. A beep tone sounded on her phone, signaling a text message.

At the same time Miki’s phone beeped to signal a voice
message
.

Both from the same number.

Teela

T
he following day, even though
Teela’s thick but muscular frame was far from the stereotypical weight
trainer’s body, as usual she managed to squeeze her five-foot-two,
one-hundred-fifty-pound self into tight black leggings and a gold and black
form-fitting top.

Part of her job was to greet prospective members of the brand-new Olympic Gym
and Spa in West Los Angeles. The gym was so swanky they had valet parking. The
rest of her responsibilities included handling prospective member tours and
supervising the early-shift employees, as well as serving as personal trainer to
certain clients who could afford the star-treatment level of individual
attention.

Her 11 a.m. appointment, the local wife of a rich businessman, was listed on
the day’s log as Falon Fox. Teela scrolled through the log, then exited
her shared management office and headed toward the front counter to make sure
she was waiting for her VIP client the moment she walked through the door.

The health-club lobby was contemporary, with chocolate leather sofas,
accented by beet red throw pillows, and oil paintings. The random knickknacks
along the oval glass tables had an African theme. A large crested
OGS
was carved into the enormous, snow-white tray ceiling above. And a magnificent,
hand-cut crystal chandelier was perched overhead.

“How are you?” asked a tall black man with a finely trimmed beard
and a buzz cut. He’d just walked in and scanned his membership card
through the magnetic stripe reader.

Teela nodded, looking up at him. “I’m good. Welcome to the
Olympic.”

“Thanks. It’s good to be here this morning. Wouldn’t have
wanted to have missed out on seeing you standing there looking all good, like
you’re God’s gift to mankind.” His eyes spoke to her body.

Teela blinked and blushed from the sheer force of her body wanting to speak
back. “That’s nice of you. You have a good workout now.” She
wasn’t trying to be obvious by biting his flirtatious vibe too hard, even
though she did take a second to check out his well-defined ass as he turned to
walk away, admiring the fruits of his obvious long-term weightlifting labor. He
turned back and caught the not-so-sly ending to her molesting glance. She tried
to be slick and rubbed the back of her neck, focusing on her coworker who was on
the other side of the counter. Anything but lick his ass with her eyes.

“So, Jennifer, did you work yesterday?”

“I did.” The young lady’s face said she didn’t miss a
second of the booty fantasizing taking place before her.

“I heard it was quiet. Usual hump-day crowd, huh?” Teela asked,
fingering through a stack of papers, straightening things along the granite
countertop.

“Yeah, you could say that,” her coworker chuckled.

Teela turned back toward the door and saw a brown-skinned, slender woman with
wide hips approaching, carrying a small canvas gym bag over her shoulder. She
was looking down at her smart phone as she walked. Her long hair was red, and so
were her scarlet nails. Teela said, “Hello.”

“Hi. I’m here to see Teela. Teela Raye, I believe.”

“I’m Teela. You must be Falon.” Teela extended her
hand.

Falon extended her hand as well, both offering firm shakes. “I
am.” Falon dropped her hand and, without looking down, placed her phone in
her bag.

Teela asked, “You joined yesterday and already had your tour,
right?”

“Correct.”

Teela gave her a once-over. Twice. She had obvious breasts that gave new
meaning to the term
double-breasted.
“It looks like you work out
quite a bit.”

Falon smoothed the fabric of her tight sweat jacket. “No, not really. I
haven’t belonged to a gym in years. I guess you could say I have a high
metabolism. It’s hard for me to gain weight, so that’s good.
I’ll admit that.” She placed her bag down between her feet and began
to unzip her jacket. “But I have absolutely no muscle tone whatsoever.
I’m very soft, actually.”

“Well, if that’s what no muscle tone looks like, I’ll trade
with you. You look like you should be training me.”

Falon smiled and examined Teela from head to toe. “Oh no. I think you
look great.”

“Thanks. I will say I’ve learned to love my body. I’ve had
no choice. I come from a long line of short and thick women.”

“Thick sounds good to me. They always say we tend to want the opposite
of what we are.” Falon bent down and placed her jacket in her bag. She
came to a stance.

“I’ve heard that before. So, do you want to head off to the
lockers and I’ll meet you back here when you’re done?” Teela
pointed to their right.

“I can do that.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting.”

“Cool. Thanks, Teela. Love that name, by the way.” Falon stepped
away, looking back at Teela. She smelled of a whisper of sweet melon oil.

And Teela noticed. “Love yours, too,” Teela replied. Unbeknownst
to Falon, she was imagining Austin fucking her doggie style. Teela’s clit
got hard. “Uh, uh, uh,” she said in a low tone, looking down at her
tennis shoes, crossing her arms.
Stop, Teela. Stop.

“Pardon me?” Jennifer asked from the other side of the counter.
Her expression said she could again read Teela’s dirty mind word for
word.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Just thinking out loud.”

As was always the case, to make her members feel more at ease Teela put
herself through the same regimen that she did them as she went through the
training.

After thirty minutes on the elliptical and thirty minutes on the treadmill,
Falon was panting hard. Her breasts jiggled as she stepped. She picked up her
Evian water bottle and sucked from it hard. From beneath her green midriff top,
sweat dripped under her heavy breasts and under her arms. She wiped her forehead
with the back of her forearm and said, “Whew. I think I’m about
done.”

Teela said cheerily, “We’re almost at the end of the cardio. We
just have a half hour or so of weight training and then a cool-down on the
bike.”

Falon inhaled and exhaled big. “Teela, I’m telling you. I am
spent. This is more than I’ve done at one time in years.”

“Okay, okay. I can see that.” Teela stopped her own machine and
looked over at Falon. “Your heart rate is really elevated.” She
pressed the button on Falon’s machine. “Let’s take a break
then until you cool down some.”

Falon’s steps slowed to a stop. “Let’s.” She grinned
at Teela. “Wow. You haven’t even broken a sweat.”

They both stepped down from the machines.

“Hey, there you are.” It was the tall black man Teela had greeted
before. His towel was draped around his neck.

“Hi,” Teela replied.

“Hello.” Falon said, using her white hand towel to dab down her
wet forehead.

He said to Teela, “I’m Reggie. And you are?”

“Teela.” She examined the powerful shape of his ripped
biceps.

“And?”

Falon wiped the beads of sweat from her drenched hairline.
“Falon.” She gave a few short breaths as she used her hand to blow
air toward her face.

“Hello, Falon. Are you okay?”

“Just a little winded.”

Teela said, “She’ll be fine.”

Falon gave a quick check of her diamond-encrusted wristwatch. “Teela, I
need to make a call soon to my daughter’s teacher, so I’m going to
head out if it’s okay.”

“Oh, sure. Let me know when you’re ready to finish the circuit
I’ve designed for you.”

Reggie spoke right up. His eyes were stuck on Falon’s healthy chest.
“Hey, I’m about to leave. How about if I walk over to the locker
rooms with you?” He extended his arm to her.

“That’d be nice,” Falon said to Reggie. She then said to
Teela, “And maybe you can meet me by the front desk in a few minutes? Do
you think?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Good,” Falon told her. She took Reggie’s arm. “So
Reggie, are you headed back to work?”

“Not today.”

“What do you say we meet up at Starbucks after I make this
call?”

“I can do that.” His pleasure showed in his deep-set smile as
they walked.

Falon turned back. “Teela, you wanna join us? It is around the lunch
hour.”

Teela nodded after looking at the wall clock. “Actually, I think maybe
I can.”

“Good.”

And after a couple of hours rolled by, it was obvious the ménage would
not make a Ladera Shopping Center Starbucks appearance anytime soon. Reggie,
Teela, and Falon were three deep in room 333 at the Holiday Inn Airport on
Century. The three cars were parked right next to each other, with
Reggie’s smoky gray BMW seven-series smack dab in the middle, in the very
corner, in the very back in the shade. And all three cars were backed in.

Reggie, the hunk with hard-earned muscles, who had dark brown skin and big
brown eyes, stood at the end of the full-sized bed, wearing a super-thin Durex
condom, with ass cheeks pumping like he was drilling for gold. The golden pussy
he occupied, owned by foxy Falon, was hairy and plump and wet and filled to its
maximum capacity with his heat-seeking dick at full tilt. His girth had widened
her out, and his length had bottomed her out.

He had Falon flat on her back, with his ass providing all the power. He stood
tall and placed his feet firm, slightly bending his defined legs. She was
getting fucked like he was Big Punisher, and her large breasts, one of them
pierced, were rolling from side to side. She looked like she was holding her
breath, gritting her teeth and grunting each time he plunged his overgrown cock
to meet her cervix.

“Uhph, umph, umph,” she said again and again with each forward
pump motion. “I ain’t never squirted in my life, but hell, if there
ever was a time, this is it. Either that or I’m about to piss on myself.
Shit.” Her face looked both worried and satisfied. Her soft hips were at
the very edge of the bed, allowing for the deepest penetration. His massive arms
were hooked under her legs, making sure to hold her up at just the right height
for his dick-sploration.

Teela lay on her back next to Falon, finger-fucking herself with an urgency,
breathing at an intense rate, spreading her own slippery lips. Three of her
fingers slid across her clit while she watched the first-time couple fuck.