by Monica Thomas
Frankly, I never imagined myself having an affair with another woman—until I met Cassie. She’s a petite little country girl from the high plains of West Texas, and we met during the final semester of my senior year in college. I was planning to travel around Europe after graduation, so to make some money I took a job a few nights a week as a topless dancer at a club in Baton Rouge.
It was a well-run place, quite classy and upscale, and many of the dancers were students like myself. Since we had to wear pasties and weren’t allowed to remove our G-strings, we really weren’t showing much more skin than you’d see at the beach.
Nonetheless, I was understandably jittery my first night on the job, and it was Cassie, a fellow dancer, who helped put me at ease. While I nervously smoked cigarettes and applied my makeup, a bouncy little blonde in street clothes came into the room. Her hair was tucked into a baseball cap and she carried a heavy leather knapsack.
“Hi there,” she smiled. “I’m Cassie. You’re new here, right?”
I blotted my lips on a tissue and nodded. “Yeah. First night. I’ve got my share of butterflies.”
“Don’t worry about it, hon,” she said, patting my arm. “You’ll do fine. Want some gum? Hey, I love your hair . . .”
Chattering away a mile a minute, she dropped her bag on the dressing table and started taking off her clothes. Off came her sneakers and jeans and silky white blouse. Her bra and panties as well. Stark naked except for the baseball cap, she rummaged around in her bag for a red spandex G-string, and once that was on, she sat down next to me.
It was hard not to stare at her beautiful breasts. They were smaller than mine but very firm and pert, with puffy halos like dollops of pink meringue. When she noticed me looking at them, she flashed a sly grin as if to say “Nice, aren’t they?”
I glanced away for a moment, and she took off her cap to brush her hair until it gleamed like gold. Still talking, she arranged her makeup on the counter: false eyelashes, pink blusher, pots of lip gloss, a wash of glitter for her skin. She was so bubbly and animated as she prepared herself, not to mention gorgeous, that it was impossible not to like her.
In the days that followed, Cassie and I quickly became friends. Everything about her pleased me, from her wised-up attitude, to her lilting Texas drawl, to her picture-perfect tits. I also relied on her for moral support and practical advice. One of the first things she told me was to make sure I wore a garter onstage so the customers had somewhere, other than my G-string, to stuff their tips. She took me to a tanning salon, gave me a French manicure, and helped me put together my own audiotape and dance routine.
Cassie was the least pretentious person I’d ever known, much different from the people I knew at college. At nineteen she’d married a cowboy and spent a year traipsing around the country from one rodeo to another. Then came a divorce and a stint as a blackjack dealer in a Las Vegas casino. She’d even done some naked modeling. Compared to Cassie, my good-girl life seemed boring and tame.
We were an odd couple, to say the least. And it was when I began thinking in those terms—that somehow we were a couple—that I started to realize how much Cassie meant to me. Since I’d never had sexual feelings for a woman before, I rationalized that I wasn’t really attracted to her physically.
And then one night, as I lay in bed listening to the rain, I allowed myself to think of her—to picture Cassie standing there naked, slowly caressing the length of her body with her hands, the slight parting of her legs signaling her arousal—and had to admit that I found the image overwhelmingly erotic.
I got out of bed and paced restlessly around my apartment. Thunder was grumbling overhead and a gusting wind made the trees outside my bedroom window creak and moan. I folded my arms beneath my breasts and stared at my reflection floating in the rain-streaked glass. As I looked at my nude image and watched the rain slashing down, I realized that I’d fallen in love with Cassie. But how could that be? After all, I was straight, wasn’t I?
Well, not completely, it seems, because a few nights later, Cassie and I wound up necking like crazy. I’d taken a taxi to the club one evening because my car was acting up; after we got off work, Cassie drove me home in her convertible. When we got to my place, she parked in the shadow of a big magnolia tree. White blossoms like huge satin bows were drooping from the branches and the heady scent of flowers sweetened the air.
“What a gorgeous night,” I murmured.
“Isn’t it? Look at the moon sailing along.”
We sat there for another few moments, listening to the lonely wail of a ship’s horn over on the Mississippi. And then as I said good-night and started to open the car door, Cassie leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. I responded in kind, but instead of drawing apart, we paused and nuzzled, and suddenly I was in her arms, kissing her full on the mouth.
Instantly, all in a rush, my cheeks were burning and I was breathlessly hot. The softness of Cassie’s pliant mouth really amazed me, and tasting her lipstick made the kiss seem even more exotic and arousing. When I felt her tongue slip between my lips, I let out a little whimper and then opened wide to tongue her back.
So this is it, I thought dizzily. This is what it feels like to kiss a woman. This is what it must feel like to a man when he kisses me. All this ravishing softness. The full pouty mouth and the baby-soft skin. The breasts shoved up against mine. I could just melt away entirely, kissing someone as soft as this.
All that long while, eyes tightly closed, clinging to her and continually kissing her, I breathed in the scent of her floral perfume, her powder, her silken hair. As we shifted this way and that, the sexy rustle of our stockings and underthings whispered in the silence.
Just as Cassie began stroking me through my blouse, we heard a car approaching, its tires sizzling on the pavement. As we let go of each other and moved apart, the passing headlights briefly lit us up before we were plunged back into darkness. Sitting there with my heart hammering in my chest, I combed back my hair with my fingers and tried to compose myself.
“I guess I’d better go inside,” I said shakily. “It’s awfully late.”
“Okay, sweetie,” she smiled. “Sleep tight.”
Around noon the next day, I woke up and heard the phone ringing. It was Cassie, who cheerfully informed me that she’d be over in a half hour to pick me up. “Oh, and pack an overnight bag,” she told me. “We’re going on a trip.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just get ready,” she laughed. “I’ll see you soon.”
Still half-asleep, I crawled out of bed and took a quick shower, and then I put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. After gulping down some coffee, I tossed my toothbrush and a change of clothes into a tote bag and stepped out onto the porch.
Just minutes later Cassie pulled up to the curb in her black Mustang. She was wearing denim cutoffs and a pink tube top that flattened her breasts but enticingly showed off her big nipples. Her blonde hair was loose and sexy, and her pretty blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses. As soon as I settled into the car and slammed the door, she stepped on the gas and we shot off down the road.
“Okay, so where exactly are we going?” I asked.
“Memphis,” she said, and broke into a big grin. “We’re going to Graceland, honey. Cool?”
“Way cool! When did you think this up?”
“This morning when I got up. It just hit me.”
Once out of Baton Rouge we were on the open highway. It was a splendid day, very hot, with the sun blazing in a hazy blue sky. The radio was blaring rock and roll, and Cassie drummed her long-nailed fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music. Presently we were in cotton country, surrounded for miles by fields of gauzy white fluff. We stopped for lunch at a roadside diner somewhere in Mississippi, and then we drove north for another few hours. As early evening approached, we were close to the Tennessee border and decided to check into a motel for the night.
Once inside our room, Cassie drew the shades before we sprawled out on the bed and eagerly started kissing. Tangled up in a passionate embrace, pressing our mouths and bodies together, we somehow managed to get our clothes off.
Finally naked, Cassie turned me over onto my stomach and caressed the globes of my ample rear end. Her little hands felt surprisingly strong as she squeezed my fleshy cheeks. When she trailed a fingertip along the crack of my ass, a dribble of honey trickled out of my slit. I was shivering from head to toe, expecting her to stick her fingers into my drippy cunt. Instead, she lay down on top of me and squirmed around until she had her groin pressed against the curve of my behind. The toasty-warm heat of her pussy radiated into my ass, and her warm nipples twinkled on my back. Taking hold of my wrists, she pinned my hands to the bed and started grinding her pussy against my rump.
“If I had a dick,” she whispered, “I’d fuck your ass for you. Would you like that?”
“Yes, I’d love it,” I answered breathlessly.
Kissing me lightly on the nape of my neck, she murmured, “Such a nice ass. Such a sweetheart . . .”
As I dug my nails into the sheets, she humped vigorously against my bottom. My full breasts were squashed beneath me, and my jolted nipples started giving off sparks of pleasure. Each time she thrust her pussy against the meat of my cheeks, the force was transmitted to my groin and my pulsating clitoris grew bigger and bigger with feeling. The bedsprings began to squeak, and that urgent squeaking sound excited me even more.
In a quavering voice I said, “I think I’m gonna come, Cassie!”
“Wait—I’m almost there!” she sighed.
For the next minute, the bedsprings went haywire as Cassie frantically humped her sex against the plush cushion of my derriere. I could feel her stickiness all over my bottom, and when I visualized my ass gleaming with her honey, my orgasm began twitching in my thighs.
“You love me, don’t you?” I cried out.
“Yes, sweetie!” she groaned.
Maybe because I was pinned beneath her body and couldn’t move my hands, my climax seemed very constricted at first, like a knot of pleasure tightening in my womb. But suddenly I let out a panicky squeal, and then my nipples throbbed and another orgasm—or maybe the same one growing bigger—flared up in my belly and swept like fire all through my insides.
Behind me, on top of me, going, “Ooh, ooh, ooh!” Cassie mashed her pussy against my rear end and painted her climax all over my ass.
We must’ve dozed off, curled up together side by side, because when my eyes fluttered open, the window shades were dark and crickets were chirping outside. Now and then a truck roared by, making the walls vibrate as it passed.
Raising myself on my elbow, I whispered, “Are you awake?”
“No, I’m sleeping. I’m dreaming about a girl named Monica.”
“Oh, really? What’s she like?”
“Sort of a bookworm type. Kind of twerpy.”
“You rat!” I laughed, and poked her in the ribs. Opening her eyes, she gave me a big smile and wrapped her arms around me. As I leaned over to kiss her, my dark hair cascaded down and curtained her face. I put my hand on one of her breasts. It felt so firm and cozy in my palm that I got distracted from kissing her and sat up to look at her tits. There they were, pointing right at me, all swollen and rose pink at the tips.
“You’ve really got great boobs,” I said.
Looking up at me, she lifted her hands and hefted my dangling breasts in her palms. “Yikes—these are heavy. Here, lemme suck on these bad boys . . .”
When she closed her eyes, I leaned forward and eased one of my breasts over to her mouth. Her tongue flicked out and swirled around my dark brown nipple, and then she pursed her lips and delicately sucked on it. When she applied a little more pressure, flickers of desire sank down into my belly and a luscious thickness began gathering beneath my mons. I started to shiver a little bit, and Cassie responded by opening wider and sucking with more energy.
“Nice,” I breathed. “Don’t stop . . .”
As the minutes passed, a peaceful sort of stillness settled over both of us. Cassie was clutching my breast with both hands, working patiently at my tit with her bee-stung lips. Soon my breast felt warm and pudding-heavy, and my sucked-on nipple was pulsating in perfect synchrony with my clitoris.
Then she switched to the other nipple and nursed at the same deliberate pace. I gave a long sigh and felt a puddle of my own honey forming beneath me, breathing in the earthy musk of my arousal. Cassie’s mouth and my tit seemed nearly fused, the one melting into the other, and minute by minute I grew more placid and belly-thick, more dazed and contented and flushed.
I’m going to come, I thought, and I finally did, crooning, “Nice, nice, nice,” while my clitoris went zing and a melty sweetness like warm candlewax dripped through my swollen bosom. Cassie kept sucking until she sensed my orgasm ebbing away, and then she plucked my slick nipple out of her mouth and peeked up at me with her luminous eyes.
“Happy tits?” she said gently.
“Yes—lovely. Want me to do yours?”
“No, do my pussy, okay?”
“I’ve never done a pussy,” I said. “You’re my first.”
She floated a nice lazy grin at me. “Nothing to it. You’ll love it,” Cassie assured me. “Go on, now. Don’t be shy.”
Spreading her legs and then her vagina, she held herself wide open, her clear-polished nails gleaming like jewels around her crimson core. I snuggled down between her shapely dancer’s thighs. Her scent was like sweetly cloying incense, not as earthy and dark-toned as me. Closing my eyes, I sniffed the mouth of her sex and then pressed my tongue against her clitoris. When she let out a gasp, I slipped my hands beneath the cheeks of her muscular little behind and eased my tongue inside her body . . .
Oh, yes: Graceland. We got there in the morning and returned to Baton Rouge the next day. In a manner of speaking, though, we reached our destination that first night, in a motel room somewhere in Mississippi. We’ve been together ever since—very much in love, in our own private land of grace.