The heat embed in through the open window, the sweltering Congolese day wrapped itself around the room and around Celeste‘s naked body. Her body was still recovering from the quick climax that she had given her self earlier. She was wet but not satisfied, the quick session rubbing herself against a pillow had left her unfulfilled.
That’s what Naledi had called it. ‘Because it makes your kuku call out.’
‘You own more than one pillow right? What you do is you put it between your legs, make sure you can feel it against you and with the right amount of pressure you…’
That semester at the University of Botswana had truly been something.
It was then that she had met Naledi and her friends. They had been nothing like anyone else she had met in all her 27 years. They had been so open about everything and anything, especially sex. They had spoken so brazenly of their wants and desires. Of their pleasure and vices. There was a power in the way they spoke, an ownership of some kind that Celeste could not place. Within her Naledi had opened up a pandora’s box of sex and sexuality. Other than ‘pillow talk’ she had introduced her to touching herself, to the sound of the female orgasm and to lingering touches. She had also introduced her to the badly lit world of pornography.
She had given her some movies, one of which was the reason for her current state. This one involved a ‘strap on’ (another of Naledi’s little lessons). The sight of the woman on her knees and the way that toy disappeared into her was like magic and sexually did the trick.
She looked to the pillow, still wet to the touch. She had been turned on by the porn but she did not like how the women were so rough with each other. It reminded her of the two partners she had had in her short sexual life, Claude and Patrick. Her friends had told her that foreign men were better but this hadn’t been her experience, the UN officer from Belgium was not quite the sexual adventure she had hoped for fondling her gruffly and eventually falling asleep. She wondered what Pastor Chris would think about what she had just done then quickly pushed the thought out of her head. The feeling of shame was too heavy to bear along with this heat. Anyway, didn’t the Song of Psalms extol the beauty of desire?
She stretched, pushing the thought from her mind and allowing instead for a wave of sensation to engulf her body. It still tingled from the climax and wanted more. The porn had given a quick fix but she wanted something more…substantial. Her mind now free from all other thoughts lazily sauntered to a memory of her time in Gaberone. The corridors of her psyche opened the bedroom door to the memory of the first time she had seen two people be intimate in the flesh. The day she had walked in on Naledi and her girlfriend in bed together.
‘Naledi the music is loud an—’
Celeste did not finish my sentence as the scene before her silenced her.
Naledi had her girlfriend spread out on the bed, smiling as the woman undulated beneath her touch. Celeste could still hear the moans that escaped her lips. The way her gasps matched the rhythm of her hips as she raised them up and lowered them, almost beckoning Naledi to continue. Celeste had never heard sounds like that. Not from herself or even those Hollywood movies where the women screamed as if possessed and sex was over in a matter of seconds.
This was different.
The woman seemed to yearn for the touch …of another woman. It was like every curve was magnetically drawn to Naledi’s hand whenever it came near. Her skin shone from where Naledi had licked her.
Larona. That must have been her name, she had heard say it. Or whisper it. She was not sure, it seemed like the sight of what was happening before her drained her of her sense of sound…
Naledi’s hands travelled the length of her woman’s body to the point where her legs met and she slid into the wet crevice, deep, until Larona’s breath caught. With that she slowly drew out her fingers and smelled them taking in the scent of the other woman.
The scene she stole her of sense of smell…
Naledi slid the damp fingers into her mouth and an appreciative noise emitted from her.
It probably also devoured her sense of taste…
Robbing of her of her four senses the memory of what she witnessed triggered something within her. Some would term it want, curiosity or even desire. Call it what you wanted but the images that flashed before her when she walked into that bedroom had aroused something in her and seemed to leave only her sense of touch…
Another set of images caressed Celeste’s mind and in one fluid motion slid in and replaced those created by the memory and…
…she could feel Naledi’s hands on her as they cupped her full breasts. Gently squeezing before her finger tips closed and she pinched Celeste’s nipple.
She reached up and cupped Naledi’s breasts eager to feel the soft skin in her palms. Naledi pushed her back and ran her tongue along the nape of her neck and positioned herself between Celeste’s legs pushing them open. She sat back on her heels and pushed her legs further apart. Silently she stared at the point they met before slowly lowering herself. Her mouth engulfed her vagina. Her tongue explored the opening before pushing its way in and familiarising itself with the world just passed the opening. Celeste arched her back and pushed so the tongue went deeper and pulled on Naledi’s hair. Vibrations ran through her as Naledi moaned and murmured into her.
With a small kiss she slid her body up Celeste’s, one of Naledi’s erect nipples running over her clitoris and making her shiver. Positioning herself on top of her she placed on leg on either side of Celeste’s and begun to rotate her hips, slowly and firmly pressing her into the mattress. Celeste grabbed at Naledi and pulled her against her, hard. She could feel the moisture that came from the other woman spread along her thigh as she continued to rotate her hips. Just as she felt she couldn’t take anymore Naledi stopped and straddled her spreading her juices across her stomach. Naledi gathered up her hair on top of her head and Celeste took the opportunity to run her hands over her own body, savouring the feeling of a pending release. Naledi slid off her and knelt next to her
Naledi turned her over and raised her hips, planting two kisses one on either cheek, she ran her hands over her ass. She couldn’t understand it but the feel of pressure behind her made her feel…something. The force within her built up with each thrust, pushing through her, the sensation pooling within her pussy, growing so great that it caused the pleasure to escape her lips and drip on to the sheets. Naledi reached around and stroked her slowly at first and then faster as her thrusts became increasingly more rapid, holding Celeste’s body closer as she begun to shake.
The dam broke and they flooded the sheets…
As the mental scene reached a peak her senses returned…
As she stood there she watched as Larona gripped the sheets and buried her face in the pillow, letting out a low growl of pleasure that was almost animalistic in nature. At that moment Naledi’s eyes had met hers and a smile played along her lips.
The fantasy and memory intertwined and tumbled onto the reality of her bed and as she cried out her eyes shot open.
Her body tingled and the sheets underneath her were damp. The TV show that had been playing in the background was now replaced by the evening news. Her hand remained between her thighs, partly because she was unable to move it, partly because she did not want to. The images in her head had served as a tutorial and again she had learned something new about what her body wanted, needed. She resolved to pass the wisdom on to Patrick. Her time in Botswana had taught her the importance of satisfaction but also the importance in actively seeking that satisfaction. Slowly but surely these sweat laden afternoons in which she found herself alone and aroused had allowed for the space to dig deep and un-earth a wealth of knowledge about her desires. And knowledge was power. Yes, she would teach Patrick to touch her, just as she wanted. The more she learned, the more he was destined to learn.
Her thoughts were interrupted by an SMS from a number starting with +267.
It begun, ‘I was just thinking about you…’
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