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‘Wip’ they called her—like the word ‘whip,’ but maybe short for whippet because of her speed—or like the crack of a whip and it’s lash, for her intellect and wit—probably all of the above. She sat in her pew and surveyed as she did each Sunday. She took in the sermon and surveyed; and was surveyed. There were many eyes on her—all cloistered; hidden—wanting her business—to be in it….Then there were some whose business she wouldn’t mind being in either….but that was her private self, and very few in these pews—very few—would know that self. Very few were qualified. The qualified made themselves known….

She was on the other side of the sanctuary from Wip. My, she was interesting. Seated there she was all elegance. Not as dark as Wip—coppery, bronzish….a beautiful metallic sheen offset perfectly by make-up and hair color. The hair, the auburn of autumn leaves…swept to one side….then the face masked by a simple veil—’hmmmm, haven’t seen one of those in a long while,’ Wip thought to herself. Not enough of a veil to mask that warm, generous, mouth—the full lips that glistened with a paint that complemented everything else about the stranger. Wip fought herself for control until the benediction. She would need it….

The stranger stood to make her way out….mmmmmm, the body was delicious and stylishly disguised…hinting at whatever a mind might imagine—and then, so enticingly, at nothing at all. Wip could tell that the woman was about her height; even beneath the veil, she was beautiful. Her breasts—obviously, a preoccupation of Wip’s—were full, though her church attire revealed little, other than a nipple scraped hard against the coarseness of the raw silk blouse. The hips, and ass; the legs were wonderful….panties?(‘you need to stop, girl!’ Wip told herself). The heels—were killers—Wip knew she had to know….

‘Hello, you’re new here….’

‘Hello,’ the stranger replied, ‘just visiting….’

‘Well, welcome. I’m Wip—just Wip….’

‘I’m Aubrye….’

‘Can I take you up to the main gallery for a cup of tea or coffee?’

‘Umm, I’d like that….’

The two of them climbed the steps like old friends. The conversation was fairly innocuous….

For some reason it seems—who knows—the two of them found themselves in an empty parlor. They chatted until the conversation fell to Aubrye’s shoes. The two were standing close enough to whisper to…to catch each other’s breath and scent…to measure the heaving of each other’s bosom….The shoes almost—almost—created some measured response, but as it was only between the two of them…. Then, with that exchange, within in the essence of that conversation between two women—”girl friends”—Wip did what close girl friends often do in close conversation. She touched Aubrye. She touched Aubrye in this manner…

Her hand glided innocently to Aubrye’s hip….so innocently that neither hardly noticed….then it slipped…. It slipped to Aubrye’s ass, and then to the crease between her cheeks—in a space that only separated her bare ass hole from Wip’s hot hand by the thin tissue of her dress….

It may have been innocent—inadvertent, in the talk of heels. Aubrye’s eyes flared. Her lips bared her beautiful teeth in a soft snarl that someone at a distance might have taken for a smile…. But there was no one else—not even at a distance.

In a subtle, deft move—an almost imperceptible move—Aubrye faced Wip, backing her into a corner. She glared, her mouth almost on top of Wip’s…. And she said softly, hotly, ‘Do you know what you’re doing, Bitch? Do you know?… I’ve got a man with a big, sweet black cock—a heavy hung, black man….Do you know what you’re doin?’… Then she pushed up against Wip…her tongue deep in Wip’s mouth; her thighs insinuating themselves between Wip’s… her full breasts stung by Wip’s silicone nipples. Then, she spun on her heel, and strutted toward the door. Half way there, just within whisper, she turned, said again: ‘You know what you doin, Bitch? I got a big cocked man…..’

The card fluttered to the table by the door….


Wip glanced at the card daily for a week….sniffed its fragrance, traced its embossed letters and numbers…giggled and sometimes laughed at the name—’Aubrye Cox’…of ‘I got a big cocked man’—’Indeed…’ Wip giggled… ‘Indeed…. May come the time when even he might need some help….’

She glanced…enhaled…touched….but never dialed….

Late Saturday afternoon…she caught the phone on the third ring…. The voice was deep…husky—not unlike her own…. It began: ‘So, you don’t like me?….’

Wip listened….

‘We have so much in common…and you so much know what I mean….’

Wip felt the dew gather at her crotch….

‘I’ll be in church tomorrow…. Will you?….’

Long pause….quick, shallow breaths….a sound suppressed in the back of the throat….Not Wip’s….click….


There she was…. In church… a few pews away from Wip….calculatingly perched…. ‘Amazing…’ casino siteleri Wip thought… ‘what a little planning could do….’ And if Aubrye Cox was anything she was a planner….

The benediction couldn’t come soon enough…. Wip couldn’t get out of her pew before Aubrye was at her side…. ‘Hi….’ It was kind of breathless and girlish….but Wip wasn’t about to be mislead….

‘Hi…’ Wip replied as Aubrye leaned in to peck her cheek….the perfume was heavy and musky—not too overdone—blending with all the other delicious scents that accompany a woman’s preparation—her cosmetic base—beneath it all, Wip thought—she couldn’t be sure—it could have just been her imagination playing with her—was the faint fragrance of pussy….

‘How about we grab a bite? …. Brunch?’….Aubrye said….

‘That sounds good…. Where?’…

‘How about my place?…. I’m not far…’

Wip raised an eyebrow….Aubrye laughed…. ‘O! Come on!….’

She linked her arm in Wip’s as they exited the sanctuary….


Possibly, you might like to know what Sunday morning fashionistas wear to church these days?…. If we started from the ground up, you might ask how they get away with it??!!…Hussies—shameless little scamps!…heels three, four inches high! Thank god, no higher—all manner of colors…. Damned if you don’t see ’em in hell…. if you don’t see them in church first!

Our ladies are nothing if not refined and chic…. Yes, both Aubrye and Wip’s heels border on four inches—’talons,’ the French call them—but they are the epitome of style and class…and then coupled with the right ensemble, no one questions the height of the heel, they simply ask ‘Where can I get that look?’…sometimes, to themselves—female and male—they ask a bit more….

Aubrye first…. A sheer, navy silk blouse inside what appeared to be a robin’s egg-blue, crepe coat-dress, knee-length…hose, robin’s egg-blue, with a navy seam….all ending in navy, patent-leather peep-toes…bag to match…. The hat, a wide-brimmed, felt, navy fedora with veil…broken down in all directions… Silver accessories all around….

Wip was chocolate in cream crepe….an ankle-length duster that buttoned to the knee…at the bodice, a strip of cream that suggested her shift….stockings the same color that led to soft, cream-colored, long-toed knee boots….her headgear was a cream-colored, open-crowned broad brim—snapped up in the front and along the left side like some damn musketeer…a soft cream scarf with faded rust tones was a trailing band…. Unruly, winter-wheat twists vied for attention from the crownless brim….Copper dangled from ears and wrists, entwined fingers …and twisted round the neck and perched in that soft valley between those two gorgeous orbs….over the rims of the overly large sunglasses she donned as she exited, were the glints of her hazel lenses….

Aubrye headed for the lot and her silver Benz coupe….

Wip’s ride was a cream on cream in cream Beetle convertible—top already down….

Aubrye pulled out of the lot and Wip followed….

A few blocks from the church they slid into a pleasant, tree-lined, black middle-class neighborhood of big, old houses with massive front yards, and even larger back properties….where the drives weren’t obscenely long, they cut crescents in front of screened and canopied porches…. Aubrye hooked a right into a lawn-flanked semi-circle and pulled the coupe up under the carport…. Wip pulled in behind her….

Aubrye motioned her up the front steps and onto the coolness of the screened porch…and from there into an immense foyer…. With each step, Aubrye undid a button to her coat-dress so that by the time she reached an equally impressive stairwell and turned, Wip had to catch her breath….

What in church had appeared to be a rather demure outfit, might rightly be characterized as the devil’s ‘playsuit’…. The coat-dress swung open to reveal not only the super-sheer silk top that covered absolutely nothing, but also a tight, tight, short, short navy blue knit mini skirt that hugged every inch of Aubrye’s ass and that was impossible for her to sit down in in polite company without, as the old folks used to say, ‘catching cold’….

Before Wip could regain her composure, Aubrye was all in her space—her smell, her heat, her body—’Hi Babi….’ she breathed as her mouth covered Wip’s….

Aubrye palmed the globes of Wip’s ass as she pushed her tongue deeper into her throat…the heat of her nipples radiating through the sheer silk…one knee parting the duster…raising it…and sliding up Wip’s thigh…

Wip decided to let Aubrye be the aggressor…this time….


Aubrye hit ‘pay-dirt’…the ‘jackpot’…the ‘goldmine’…the ‘honey-hole’—Wip’s almost naked and immediately slickening cunt….

‘Mmmmmm…what do we have here?’ Aubrye cooed…pushed Wip back at arms-length to just gaze on her prize…. ‘Damn! You’re fine!’ she breathed…. ‘Let’s see what we canlı casino got….’

She approached Wip like she was unwrapping an expensive gift…the kind whose paper you wanted to keep forever….once she fumbled through all the buttons on the duster, she was forced to whistle as it fell open….

‘Got-damn!’ she softly swore as the cream duster gave way to a cream knit sheath….tight as anything Aubrye could ever wish for and short as anything she’d ever wear…and a weave as transparent as tissue paper…against all that dark, sweet chocolate….

Clearly, both of our ladies had anticipated a bit more than church, and possibly more than brunch….


Aubrye leaned up against Wip, pressing her to the wall…her hands flat against it on either side of Wip’s head….soft, warm, warm lips pressed hard against Wip’s as a serpent’s tongue insinuated its way through them….

Aubrye’s nipples stung Wip’s through the tissue of their dresses…. Hems that were much too short rode over hips exposing crotchless pantyhose and coordinating thongs, already mussed by copious leakage from both crotches…. Aubrye pried Wip’s thighs apart with her knee—it didn’t take much—slid it up until her thigh made contact with that pussy and a clit that felt like it was the size of a little dick—a thick little dick—the electric jolt of that contact—for the both of them—made her involuntarily bite Wip’s lip…. Wip moaned as Aubrye tasted her sweet, salty blood and sucked her lip clean….

Wip figured that the time for being coy was over….she wrapped an arm round Aubrye’ neck and drew her tongue even deeper into her mouth…sucking so hard that you might have thought she meant to uproot it….at the same time she clamped down on that muscular thigh and rode it…slicking it with the oil from her pussy….

Aubrye raised her thigh high enough to lift Wip off the floor…grinding that pussy just the way she loved her own to be ground….Wip’s free hand had found a firm ass-cheek….her turn to ‘insinuate’ now….cheek spread, firm, slender digit slowly, masterfully inserted….Aubrye whines….presses closer….bears down firmer in her kiss, offering as much tongue as possible….bears up, rotating knee and thigh in an ever slickening crotch…. Then abruptly breaks the clinch….

‘I did invite you for brunch, didn’t I?’ as she started for a wide arched door….

The kitchen was huge…sun-filled and bright…befitting a late ‘Sun’-day morning….the sun-porch off the space gave even more light and airiness as it overlooked a richly green backyard whose flowers danced in the soft late spring breeze….the porch itself was a ‘lap’…if not of luxury, at the very least, leisure….a simply white space, picking up the sun’s light…reflecting it back into the bright, soft golds of the kitchen…. White divans, chaises, deep chairs with ottomans littered the broad enclosure….it was difficult to tell that they were in the neighborhood—had neighbors—the way the total space was arranged…. There was a certain seclusion here….


Aubrye stepped to an obscenely large island in the center of the kitchen—larger than the entire kitchen of Wip’s substantial condo….it was full fruit…lots of it on skewers…crepes…champagne flutes—and of course, champagne—and the biggest strawberries Wip had seen this season….

‘Something light to begin with…’ Aubrye sighed, her back still to Wip as she shrugged her hips slightly and a navy thong with robin’s egg-blue embroidery slid silently to the floor….

She turned from the counter, an ample strawberry in hand—for some reason, the size and shape made Wip immediately think of the head of a big, pretty, black cock—Aubrye leaned back against the island, her hips slightly elevated…up thrust…the skimpy knit of the navy skirt riding her hips…the moistness of her pussy-lips gleaming…. The move was practiced…it had a deftness…a certainly expertise….fluidly the big, cock-headed strawberry disappeared—almost entirely—up her cunt…. She shuddered…ever so slightly…on the push in and the pull out…. Then shivered again as she passed the cream-coated berry between her rich, full, lacquered lips and into her mouth…. The look on her face was as close to orgasmic as Wip had ever seen….

Aubrye’s lashes fluttered open full…refocused, she smiled…another strawberry in hand…the same expert maneuver…only this time she beckoned Wip forward…all eyes….

There was a trance of lust in the air as Wip opened her mouth to accept the offering….before she bit, she sucked the berry free of all of its cream…her turn to shudder….her own cream clotting her thong….

Aubrye placed a hand on Wip’s hip beneath the sheer bone sheath…found the ribbons of the thong and tugged….the silence of a butterfly descending….

She handed Wip two flutes of Champagne, picked up the platter of fruit and ushered her onto the sun-porch….she placed the platter on a table next to a stark white kaçak casino chaise covered in raw cotton…she took the flutes and placed them next to it….both hands on Wip’s shoulders she gently pushed her deep into the cushions of the chaise, Wip’s stilettoed feet on either side…the hem of the tight dress above her belly-button…smooth, glistening, naked pussy exposed…. Aubrye licks her lips….

Another big strawberry—why do they seem to increase in size?…. Aubrye’s fingertips on Wip’s upper thighs, radiating their own heat…making that pussy sweat even more…the anticipation making the seconds seem like forever….

The big, rough, berry cockhead is forced between the tight, hot pussy-lips—through that other mouth—that has been hungering for it…. Wip’s head rolls back into the deep cushions…her eyes roll back in her head…her hips roll up to meet this one, single thrust…her pussy clinches to retain it…the whine rolls up her throat and across her tongue as the fruited cockhead is retrieved….

Her eyes—she forces to flutter open—catch the bright, red, berry cockhead richly coated with her cream as it descends, o so slowly…o so deliberately between equally bright red lips, onto a long pink tongue, swirling her cream…before it disappears in ecstasy…. One more berry…even bigger…more cream…this one shared….ending with an even deeper kiss….

The flutes tinkle…the champagne refreshes…revives…clears the palates….

‘How was that for an ‘appetizer’?’….

Wip is speechless as Aubrye reaches into the fruit platter and pulls up a skewer of roasted pineapple chunks…pulls one off with her teeth and puts the skewer between Wip’s…. Back again, to the platter….blueberries…big, firm, hard—but sweet…. Wip hadn’t noticed, but these were strung together…like beads….

Aubrye pushed her back into the cushions…stretched herself out the full length of the chaise between Wip’s thighs…twisted the pencil-eraser sized nipples through the tight, flimsy knit as her face dipped into Wip’s pussy….

‘Oooooooo….’ Wip moaned….

‘Mmmmmmm….’ Aubrye hummed as her thumbs and forefingers twisted the long, thick nipples and her tongue twisted up into that cunt….her lips…and then her teeth, found the ‘little man in the boat’—quite a big fellow by now—and gently bit and twisted ‘him’ as well…..

‘Ooooo! Oooooo! Ooooooo….sh-iiiiiit….’ Wip sweetly moaned as her pussy opened to release more cream….Aubrye’s mouth was at the ready….

Aubrye kissed Wip….licked both their lips…. ‘More….?’

Wip nodded through the haze….


Aubrye took two strings of the big blueberries—about ten berries to a strand—and threaded one strand up an already slick and creamy pussy…. The other strand was reserved for Wip’s asshole, which Aubrye began to prep with deep tongue jabs….

Again, all Wip could manage was ‘O! O! Oooooo!’ as her ass was tongue-fucked….it was almost too much to take when Aubrye began to push the big, hard berries through her sphincter….she could only whine as Aubrye smacked her ass with each additional berry….

Heat began to rise from Wip’s ass as Aubrye gave equal attention to each cheek…her own hand glowing from its contact with Wip’s muscular glutes—that contact making Aubrye’s pussy leak even more….She locks her thighs and grinds against her own slickness….her own moans—almost inaudible—mingle with those of her ‘victim’….

Aubrye heats Wip’s ass—preps it….Wip twists and shudders with each strike—each strike adding more cream to the deca-berries wedged up her cunt…making her ass exude its own slipperiness to cover the bluettes pushed pass her sphincter….

Aubrye pulls Wip up…shifts her own position so that her spine is supported against the chaise’s back…. She grasps Wip’s wrists and pulls her oily pussy the length of her thigh til their titties are flush against the other’s—radiating their own heat….Wip’s moan is choked off by the sweet thickness of pussy-laced tongue…. Then, Aubrye makes her begin to cry….

These are real sobs…they wrack the body…force it to shake and convulse…. Aubrye grips the nape of Wip’s neck…holds her tight to her mouth…makes her sob into it…as she rocks her berry-filled pussy on her thick thigh…and pulls—one by one—five big, hard berries—count them: ‘one, two, three, four, five’—through her sphincter….

And then, with one savage lurch, tears the remaining five big, hard berries from Wip’s asshole….

The wail, echoes and reverberates down Aubrye’s throat…through the core of her body…resonates like the pulse of a sacred bell in her pussy…her clit its gong…. She cums too….

Wip’s crying is almost uncontrollable….

Aubrye is shook as well….but not so much that she can’t finish this ‘course’….

She pushes Wip to her back again….places her lips against the lips of Wip’s cunt…. There, with tongue and teeth, she searches for the string…finds it…secures it in her perfect bite…. Tugs so that every blueberry pearl snaps from the tightness of the cunt trap…rolls cross her tongue to be sucked and savored before being crunched in superb, sexual satisfaction….

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