A Bakery, Ruminations & Fucking... Ch. 02

Carla furrows her brow and looks at me, concerned. "Jillian. Are you all right?"

I am breathless, confused and don't know what to say. I'm just staring at her dumbfounded, speechless and unable to move. No, I am afraid to move, and I sigh a deeply husky trembling sigh.

Erin appears at my side and rescues me from making an utter fool of myself. She strokes my cheek and kisses me, reassuring me and murmuring endearments as she takes Carla's hand and elegantly turns it, gently kissing her palm.

"Carla, I've been looking forward to this all day." She smiles brilliantly. "It's a pleasure to have you join us this evening. Please come in." She is so graceful and poised and I feel like a troll. She leans in and whispers. "Sweetheart, it's okay. Take a deep breath. This is for pleasure, not torture, relax." And leads us both down the hallway and into the living room.

"I came right here from work, didn't think to bring a change of clothes with me." She looked at Erin, naked except for the kitchen towel and smiled a bit lecherously. "Of course, I seem to be the one overdressed."

Erin laughed. "I don't think you're the slightest bit uncomfortable." She winked and headed for the walk-in closet. "Let me grab a drape or something." She paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Carla, do you want to shower, or perhaps change into a wrap?"

Erin pulled on Alexander McQueen crocodile print leggings that hung low from her hips and stretched along her ass and legs like skin. She shrugged into a loose poplin halter, and looked in the mirror, ruffled her hair, picked up a scrunchie, put her sparkling auburn curls into a high loose ponytail and grinned at Carla through the mirror. "So, how about now? Am I overdressed yet?" Carla laughed and snorted. "Those aren't his McQ off-the-racks are they? I'd have to work half a week to afford those leggings. They fit you fine, Girl."

Erin smiled. "I've been using the moisturizers you recommended, as well as the herbs and medicinals. The bruising is healing quickly and well, don't you think? Really, Carla, thank you for everything."

Carla grinned. "Can I help in the kitchen? I'm famished. I'm sorry Erin, but if you don't feed me soon I'll faint from hunger."

They continued their light banter into the kitchen but I kept back a bit, still feeling awkward and unsettled.

I fiddled absent-mindedly in the living room, near the Bose Acoustic Wave, idly flipping through CD's before carefully studying Erin's jazz collection. I put on Bill Evans, the third disc of the re-mastered Riverside Collection. "Spring Is Here" burst dancing from the speakers. I closed my eyes and let his miraculous piano jazz carry me, soothe me, and slowly gave in to the teasing tempos, let myself dance along as the sultry tones romanced and freed me, comforted and calmed me, and I found excited tranquility as the confusion and awkwardness slowly began melting away.

I felt fingers gently stroking my shoulders and opened my eyes to Erin's smile dazzling me. She handed me a goblet of wine and kissed me gently. "I always thought Bill Evans was perfect but to see you dance his music is extraordinary." She kissed me and my heart shuddered and skipped a beat, maybe two, and my face fell to her breasts as I pulled her to me and slowly folded into the dancing beats and tinkling sultry rhythms.

As we moved effortlessly about the room, Carla's eye caught mine and she smiled. Gosh, she is so beautiful. My heart perked and hammered and I know Erin could feel it because she smiled and nibbled my ear and stroked the shells of my ear with her tongue and hot breath and, once again, I was a puddle. She melts me. I stopped dancing and sipped the wine. Dry, full bodied, fruity, heavy tannins, a hint of sweetness, rich and earthy, it was delicious, definitely a Cabernet Sauvignon. The musty sourness was incredible bursting on my tongue and I savored it slowly trickling down my throat.

"Thank you, Erin. This wine is fabulous."

She smiled and nodded towards the dining room. "Come on, sexy Poppet. Dinner is ready."

The food, though seemingly simple fare, was beautifully prepared. A Caesar Salad with fresh pan-seared toasted croutons, and a basket of steaming crunchy-crusted baguettes and rich cool butter. The entrée was fresh catfish fillets and belied the amount of prep time required. Erin put the fillets to marinate for 5 hours in freshly made grapefruit zest, lime zest, grapefruit juice, and lime juice. The catfish required careful and constant attention to marinade properly.

Slightly before Carla was due to arrive, Erin drained the liquid, and added fresh chopped seeded tomatoes, crisp onions, olive oil, garlic, minced jalapenos, cilantro, oregano, salt, turbinado sugar, cumin, and diced avocados. After a half hour, the catfish fillets were removed from the marinade and quickly seared and blackened, then plated and served with the marinade as a garnish sauce. A generous side of buttery hot brown rice accompanied, with lots of fresh steamed asparagus.

A spicy and fruity light red Zinfandel perfectly accented the fleshy rich catfish. The meal was amazing and we all had seconds. Carla and I even had third helpings of catfish. My God, we ate like gluttons and enthusiastically relished each delicious lovely bite.

Carla, her plate empty, sat back from the table, patted her tummy and tried to stifle a belch and giggled. "Damn, that was so good. Do you always eat this well?"

Erin looked at me and we grinned at each other, nodding our heads sheepishly confessing our guilt. "Food and sex are the necessities of life, right?"

Carla smiled. "Not exactly the textbook hierarchy of needs." She said mischievously. "So, what's for dessert?"

Erin beamed. "I thought you were bringing dessert."

Carla wrinkled her brow. "Nope. Sorry. I'm actually ashamed I didn't think to ask what I might bring."

Erin smiled and stood. "Come on. Help me clear the table and we can have coffee and figure out who to eat for dessert."

Carla startled into snorting laughter as she and Erin watched my face flush red into bright deep embarrassment.

I burst into tears, covered my face and howled, sobbing my confusion and awkwardness. I think I surprised myself most of all. The lust, guilt, arousal and teasing fantasies, all the emotions just percolating in me the entire week, finally exploded like a failed pressure cooker, and I blew. I wailed and cried my awkward frustration and dared not peek between my fingers. I was too ashamed and embarrassed.

Her fingers stroked my cheek, and her fingers stroked my thigh. She kissed my flushed cheeks and licked at my fingers and teased me to peek between them. I knew it was Carla and Erin too. I could smell their musky robust scents and my stomach fell, I was so embarrassed, knowing I had shamed Erin with my lust, and had humiliated myself with adulterous fantasies.

"It's okay little Yoda." Erin assured me, stroking my hair and kissing my neck. "Don't be sad, Sweetness. It's okay to lust for Carla. You know I feel it too, right? You know how horny she makes me."

I trembled and nodded meekly.

"I'm sorry, Jillian." Carla crooned. "I've played with your feelings and hurt you with my teasing. I truly am sorry." She stroked my arms and brought my hands to her lips, kissing my fingers and warming my trembling chilly fingers with her moist breath and kind mouth.

Finally I dared to open my eyes but couldn't face either of them. I am ashamed and embarrassed and feel sick to my stomach because of it. "Please you guys, I don't know what to do. I want this, but I can't do this. It hurts too much to feel this. I don't know how to do this." I wailed and sobbed and trembled.

Erin speaks:

I am brokenhearted and feel evil for enjoying teasing Jillian but she's so cute when I mock her, I just can't seem to stop myself. No matter how playful my intent though, I have been cruel and she is wounded by my actions and I am ashamed, speechless at what a mean bitch I can be.

"I'm sorry Baby." Trembling fingers reach for her pretty damp cheek. "I'm scared, and teasing you helped me avoid feeling that."

Jillian looked up from her lap and her eyes met mine. She sobbed and raised a perplexed eyebrow. Her voice shuddered as she attempted to speak, then shook her head, frustrated and looked down, nervously fiddling with her hands in her lap. "Why?" She whispered. "Why do you have to be so mean?"

"I know it's unfair, but you've no idea how cute you are when I tease you, how endearing it is to see you squirm. But you're right, it's unfair, and more than mean, it's cruel."

She tried to raise her eyes to mine as her voice shook and panted, taking in short breaths. She mumbled, but I couldn't hear her words.

Carla sighed and reached out, taking Jillian's hand as she slipped apart her jersey. The scrubs fell open revealing rich chocolate skin and firm full breasts. Her aureoles were large, dark and wrinkled, nipples hard, prominent and rubbery. "Look at me Jillian." She ordered firmly, gently, and Jillian's eyes reluctantly met mine before gaping at Carla's nude torso before her.

Carla reached out and stopped Jillian from turning away. "Erin planned this, Jillian. She asked me here to do this. She asked for my help, and I came." Carla smiled and petted Jillian's cheeks, stroked down her throat and cupped her chin. "Your fiancé is scared, Jillian. She needs us both right now. She needs me to show her, to help her."

I steel myself, gather up enough courage to reveal what a shallow ridiculous twit I am, and look into her sparkling blue and emerald-flecked eyes. (Yeah, I say it a lot but really, Jillian's eyes are astonishing.)

"I don't want to lose you because I fail you as a lover." I struggle to meet her eyes.

Shocked and bewildered, she gasps. "What?" And fixes me with a look of dumbfounded confusion.

I can't help myself. I am an inopportune idiot. "Hi. My name is Erin, and I'm an ass-prude."

Carla collapses onto the floor, laughing hysterically.

Twelfth part: "Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices! O night divine..."

(In which Erin experiences epiphany and Jillian experiences revelation...)

I don't know how anal sex is for others, hell its sex, so it's a completely individual experience, universally celebrated and singularly diverse in feeling and expression. For me it became an issue of emotional vulnerability but defined and felt on a physical plane as well. It was the ingrained revulsion I'd learned concomitant with the incredibly personal penetration of my most private physical parts. The astonishing mix of taboo and sensuality, revulsion and shame painted erotic - it all simmered into lust and boiled within me and all the contrary feelings crashed through me at once.

Jillian kissed my lips and petted my face, salting my cheeks with her tears. "I don't know if I can do this, Erin."

I gazed into her eyes and began to tell her, but stopped myself, not wanting to ruin the moment, but I desperately wanted to understand this; to feel this and rise above my lifelong obstacles. Just once, before I died, I wanted to feel being loved take over the most privately personal parts of me, and to express my love in the way my partner most desired it - to do it joyfully, freely, without judgments or constraints, especially restraints of my own making.

Before I met Jillian, the idea of monogamy was foreign to me. I didn't understand it and didn't care about it, but that was my personal choice, part of my fluid moral fabric, and I did not force my personal beliefs or experiences on others, not my friends or my patients. Nor did I color their experiences and behaviors through my arguably myopic somewhat supple morality.

I'm not sure I fully understand what monogamy is all about yet, because it seems too confining, especially to women because in our patriarchal society, what's good for the gander still ain't good for the goose. It's socially acceptable for a dude to be promiscuous and sexual, but if a chick does it, she is branded a "slut" and condemned as a "whore" replete with all the pejorative associations. Slut-shaming is second to football (okay, maybe baseball and the NBA ranks up there as well) but slut-bashing and slut-shaming is the real American pastime.

Try to prove me wrong, because there's hundreds of thousands of examples to back me up to the few isolated ones you might cite. Despite all the dudes that troll online porn for girl-on-girl fantasies, Lesbians are still detested and hated for being Dykes. Some men appreciate Lesbians, but overwhelmingly, most men still hate us, loathe us, still mock us, still assault and injure us.

The LGBT world is reviled and it is socially acceptable to do so, just look at how Bruce Jenner is ridiculed, scorned and reviled, how he is treated in the media and online. There are some vocal crony female cohorts as well. There are plenty of women who can't stand to say "Lesbian", even when their mouths are full of one. Ellen and Rosie may be beacons of Lesbian power but they are still ridiculed and denigrated every single day in the media. Rap and Hip-Hop thrive through slut-bashing and slut-shaming.

When I'm in-session with a straight couple in crisis because of infidelity, we explore the meaning and significance of their bonds and vows as they apply to each of them. It isn't my job to change their minds or question their world view, it's my job as a therapist to help them listen to each other's feelings and help them each understand the other - and maybe they'll come to find their love for each other reborn and they can learn to cherish each other again. Such insight does happen sometimes and it's awesome to watch it unfold, an honor to witness. But sometimes a relationship can't be salvaged or healed because feelings are too raw and bitterness has come to overwhelm what was once loved, but even then there is the possibility of finding the capacity to forgive, to let go of the hatred so that each might move on and become more fully human, able to struggle and risk to love freshly once more.

Jillian gazes deeply into my eyes, and I remember that night at the bakery. What I find so stunning about her is how unabashedly spontaneous she is and how comfortable she is in her own skin. Because I'm not. I muck about in the emotional world, challenging archetypes like some idiot of a psychological Don Quixote, ruminating and brooding and trying to find meaning, too analytical, struggling too hard to understand, when the real challenge of life is to actually experience it first hand, unfiltered and viable and bursting upon all the senses.

She brings me to tears. And I marvel at what is happening to me.

Thirteenth part: "I feel wonderful because I see, The love light in your eyes..."

(In which we dance, not yet "The Last Waltz"...)

I've lost track of time and wake up. Erin and Carla are cuddled around me. Somehow we've made it up to the loft, but I can't recall leaving the living room. It is twilight outside. I have no idea what time it is and I don't really care. The mix skips to Eric Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight". It's the 8 minute slow blues version, the one where you are enchanted and become the guitar that he seduces and fingers and loves so tenderly. I love Clapton's virtuosity even though he's kind of a crazed racist. I want to believe that his heart is pure; I won't believe such beauty is created by evil. God mocks us - he creates genius and paints them unabashed idiots and laughs as we whine and squirm with the grating incongruity.

("And the wonder of it all, Is that you just don't realize how much I love you...")

I let Clapton carry me away, imagine the fingers fretting and stroking along the guitar fingerboard are my lover's thrumming my pussy, slide my hands to the junction of her thighs, slip my tongue to Erin's puckering rosebud and gently lick it into quivering.

She gasps, flinching away at first, but then her buttocks soften and hips fall gently to the floor, unfurling, rolling right, her knees fall open as she bares her soul, presenting her pussy, and tears flow quietly from her eyes. Carla cups her buttocks, lightly tanned firm globes rippling in her ebony hands, stroking fingers as she dips her head and begins circling the petals of Erin's rosebud, her tongue softly, ever so slowly and gently teasing her pucker as Erin shudders and trembles her breath.

She grasps Carla's head and pulls her more deeply between her legs and reaches for me, gripping the back of my neck and drawing me in for a shaking shy kiss. "I'm scared Jillian. You have to be gentle." Her voice trembled, low and throaty as she gasped suddenly and screwed her eyes tightly shut. She never admits fear, never lets herself be taken, at least not like this. She is completely vulnerable, has put her faith in us, trusting us, and I look at Carla as her eyes meet mine and know that Erin need not fear. She has placed her emotions in our hands and neither of us will betray this trust.

Carla slowly licks up to Erin's perineum, stroking up through her labia slowly, flattening her tongue as she paints her pussy and envelops her clit, nibbling and sucking it between her humming lips. Erin moans and scrunches her abs, rolling and arching her hips. She spreads her thighs, her legs splayed almost horizontal to the floor. I reach for the low nightstand and fumble for the Strapon. I know the one I want by touch, and hand it to Carla as dawn begins dancing though the glass walls of the bedroom loft.

Erin watches hungrily as Carla tucks on the harness, stroking her cock and slicking it with lube. The neoprene perks up, springing erect and Carla thumbs on the vibe. Her cock begins pulsing. Erin is panting, eyes locked with Carla's, grasping my hands and shivering with want.

"Watch me." Carla murmurs. "Hold me and watch." She orders to Erin, and kneels, slowly inching behind me.

Erin sits up and crawls in closer and gingerly places her hands on Carla's plump cocoa ass, stroking her firm globes and watching her cock bounce and tease it's way towards me.

Carla moves me forward and turns me to my hands and knees, and I drop my forehead to the bed. With a few slight squirms I can see her stiff cock bobbing and teasing near my mound. Erin edges in closer and grasp the cock, fingers Carla's pussy and nuzzles down her neck. Carla gasps as Erin finds a spot by her clavicle and latches on suckling as Carla trembles and pleads.

"That's right my Sweet Baby." She coos.

"Show me Carla." She pleads. Her voice trembling, more insistent, hoarse and throaty. "My God, you're a Viper, so sexy, so hot." She reaches for Carla's hips. Pushing her closer to my ass and I arch up to meet her thrusting hips. Erin rushes to grasp Carla's Cock and push it into my ass, but Carla touches her hands, firmly stopping her urgent motions. "Slowly, Sweet Baby, slowly now. We have all the time in the world, you know?"

Erin blushes and starts to apologize and pull away but I reach back and stroke her squatting thighs, stroking up to her breasts and fondling her ribs underneath her firm tits. They're only slightly discolored now and barely hurt, but I know she's still tender around her ribs, even more so because of this emotional vulnerability. "It's okay, my lover." I reassure her. "You are my Amazon, my Mistress and Master, my Erin." I peer into her flashing amber eyes. They glisten with tears and lightning strikes within them. She growls, and Carla chuckles.

"Watch me, Erin." She murmurs, and dips her ebony head down, takes hold of my buttocks and slowly begins kneading each globe. I gasp at the slight static charges that courses across my skin. Erin rests her check on one globe of my ass and Carla entwines her chocolate fingers with Erin's paler ones, moving their hands together and massaging my firm flexing butt. Erin gasps and leans in, timidly licking my ass closer to my rosebud. I can feel her breath on my skin, her nostrils flare and breaths in, a slight sniff and pauses considering the scent of my pucker, then burrows onto my rosebud, teasing with her nose. I feel her nostrils flare as she inhales the earthy musks and sighs contentedly, burrowing in with slightly more pressure as my sphincter quivers, just beginning to soften but still resisting, quivering ambivalence but yearning to be penetrated I arch my ass towards her face and groan.