Public Emotions  

oreo6971 36G
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7/19/2005 7:30 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

Public Emotions

"I want to do something in public today," Audrey said, out of the blue one morning after they'd lingered together, in bed, deliciously late. "Something public, and very very sexy."

Donna has grown used to these sudden announcements about sexual adventures. Audrey proclaimed this at dinner. She wanted to take a cab to the concert. It was going to be all Beethoven. Beethoven always made her, well, romantic. "I cannot bear the thought of no orgasms for hours! Let's leave the Jag in the garage, take a cab, and I will masturbate for you in the backseat!" Donna just smiled. A little chuckle escaped from her lips. She knew it was pointless to argue. These statements were more proclamations than proposals, and she had learned to accept them as readily as she'd accepted this playful woman into her life.

That night they did take a cab to the concert. Audrey wore the dress she'd bought weeks before, especially for her Donna. It was black, tight and short. It wrapped around her chest below her shoulders. The friction of the clingy fabric and a ring of black velvet like a choker attached to the front of the dress grasped her neck and held that skimpy front up, against gravity. The garment clung to her tummy and hips. Her lovely round bottom. Her hard nipples were clearly visible, outlined in the stretched Lycra, as were her navel and the soft swell of her belly. From the side you could see her gently muscled shoulders, and bare arms, the skin, the side, the beginning of her breast. And from behind there was little need to look for features outlined in taught fabric.

There wasn't much fabric to be seen. The rear of the garment was cut away, all the way to the round swell of her firm ass. The hem of the very brief skirt was but an inch below the place where her thigh met her lovely little ass. From behind it was more skin, more tanned back and neck, and legs; the sculptured break of coffee-colored skin over rising scapula, ligaments sheathed in mocha gracing the long neck like responds wrapping a column, carrying god from the clerestory into the cathedral. A freckle, more an embellishment than blemish.

Legs forged with exercise, from miles and miles of pushing peddles on the dirt of single track trails in Colorado, uncovered, bare, totally exposed; legs lifted from the floor by shiny shoes that tilted at a wonderfully obscene angle. Spikes. Black, like the dress. She wore silver hoops; silver hoops lightly inscribed with a Hopi pattern, large hoops that dangled from her ears. A silver Hopi bracelet on her right wrist. The first time she wore that outfit for Donna, modeling it in the bedroom before their lovemaking, Donna had been rendered speechless. Whenever she wore it, Donna grew wet with wanting.

That night of Beethoven, they entered the cab. Audrey hailed but once and from across the Avenue, several yellow, Checker Manhattans raced toward her upraised hand, screeching to a halt, nearly colliding . When they entered the first that had arrived, the driver smiled as if he'd won the lottery. He watched the two attractive women enter his vehicle through the rearview mirror. "Lincoln Center," Donna announced. And they drove away from the East side.

Donna sat next to the left, rear window. Audrey nuzzled against her, her legs on the hump that wanted to separate them, that godawful thing on the floor of cabs that tries to divide the backseat into left and right halves. Audrey would have none of that. She sat next to her dear Donna. "Hump," she thought, "what a wonderful word!"

Donna smiled at Audrey, but said nothing. Slowly, Audrey parted her legs, and placed a hand between them. She was not wearing anything under the short, tight, revealing dress. "I need to do this, to get me through the concert; otherwise, I might explode!" She laughed.

"Go ahead, dear," Donna encouraged her. And as Audrey touched herself, Donna watched. So did the poor driver. He couldn't help himself. The rearview gave him a front-row seat, and he was certain that whatever entertainment might be happening at Lincoln Center that night, it wasn't going to be any better than this.

Audrey leaned into Donna, pressing her face into her, kissing her neck, inhaling her smell. Donna turned to watch her Audrey perform.

As the dress rose higher and higher, her hand rubbed ever faster. "May I cum quickly?" Audrey whispered.

"Yes, dear. Please."

So she continued in earnest. Kissing Donna's neck. Letting her legs open ever wider. Two hands rubbing, masturbating herself there in the cab, with Donna whispering encouragement in her ear. When she came, it was not loud. It was with quiet whimpers and shudders. The sounds lovers make when they are trying not to be heard. Her dress, which had ridden above her bottom, exposing all of her body below her waist to both Donna and the driver's eyes, was quietly gathered into Audrey's hands. Smiling, she pulled it down. As a last gesture of her fondness for Donna, she lifted her hand to Donna's lips. Kissing the hand gently, Donna smelled Audrey's sex, and shuddered.

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