A PanAfricanist Queer Womanist Collective
‘I love women, they do things to me’.
Truer words were never spoken.
“What do women do in bed? Doesn’t it get boring?’ Senseless questions that need a sensual answer.
How can you not quiver when you think of all the things a woman can do?
How can you not want to spend that extra moment of longing whilst you think and imagine of the tastes and sounds and visuals that come with two women clutching, writhing, moaning, scratching, bonding…coming.
Women kiss. The kiss that deep longing kiss where the moistness from her lips causes you to become damp on yours. Both sets. Where her tongue sliding into yours is met with a moan and a longing.
Women touch. But touch comes in so many forms. Her hands as she runs hands over my back, my ass. Runs them over my breasts as I anticipate her taking me and doing what she wants to me. Her tongue caresses my nipple and I use every core muscle I have to offer myself to her mouth. As she strokes my thighs and I lie with my legs open wanting to swallow her offering whole but all she gives is little taste.
Dipping her fingers in, my entrance so shallow. When she’s behind me. Bringing me to my, knees physically and emotionally. Controlling the pleasure I am allowed to feel. Grabbing at my waist, ass, hips. Taking you to the brink while holding my hips so tightly that she stops me tipping over the edge.
Women come. They come bucking and clawing at the sheets. Screaming into the pillow so your roommate so as not expose the nature of what we do. Shivering as the climax climbs through every inch of her causing her mind to evacuate the earthquake that is her body. Her breasts rising and falling with the shortness of her breath, her mouth slightly open. Her vagina wet and my mind flooded with the view before me. Not sure if I came until she reaches down and tastes me. Two fingers worth and I shudder.
And when you lie there, unable to move. The moment throbbing in your mind. And she calls you back from the depths of my memory by enclosing my clitoris in the warmth of her mouth and beckoning me to create new flights of fantasy.
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