Sun Burst Pt 1

Ghetto Booty Cartoon

Check out my earlier adventures with Sun.

Sun texted me out of the blue.

I knew what she wanted and knew from the instant flood of blood away from my brain that it was what I wanted too. Angry at my lack of control in the face of my New Years Resolution, I drove from my white suburban hide-away to back to one of Boston’s “black” neighborhoods.

This time the street was empty as I approached her house. Three story apartment complexes crouched together to form a wind tunnel and the cold breeze bit into my skin.

The front door lock was busted so she told me to come on up, light turning on with my step.

Sun was a hot mess at the door: 2 inch army-style stilettos, curve hugging jeans barely maintained by her belt which hung sloppily over and her belly hanging out of her tight camouflage shirt. She gave me a look that was barely a smile and waved me in.

Seriously? She couldn’t even fix herself up a little bit¬† knowing I was coming? And why was she dressed for the club if she asked me over hours ago?

Her friend was there: thick, brown skinned with a black weave. She was dressed for the club too.

“Man fuck all that standing in line.” She complained bitterly about not getting into the club.

Sun nodded and rolled a blunt. We passed it as they dished about the night and their mutual acquaintances. I despaired of getting any quality time alone with Sun and low-key hated myself for wanting her so bad, but even dressed sloppy ghetto her body shined: her ass cleavage was hypnotic, as was the curve of her breasts as she sucked in the pungent smoke.

I felt powerless in the face of my desire. Wanting her more than anything but fearing she would dismiss me, afraid to ask. My tongue tied from speaking by the presence of her friend and Sun’s closeted status.

And then her friend left.

To be continued…

Attack of the Aggressive Femme


I was dancing by myself in an alcove when she approached me. She had a smile on her face and trouble in her eyes as she rubbed her ample bosom against mine on the dance floor. We fell into step together. She turned around, pressing her juicy booty against me. I thrust my hips into her soft curves.

She turned around and clamped her thick thighs around mine, finding that sweet spot as we bounced up and down on the floor.

Tearing my gaze away from her massive gleaming cleavage to her eyes, her expression demanded a kiss.
No. I put my hand up to ward off her lips.
“But why?”
“I don’t know you.”
“You don’t just go around kissing people you don’t know.” I tried to explain, fighting the feeling.
“So let’s get to know each other” She guided me to the couch.
She was nothing that I usually look for: I like dark, reserved, butch women, and here she was, a young, aggressive white femme. But so hot! She wrapped her arm around me assertively. Our pale legs looked so sexy together in our short dark skirts and ballet flats. She hooked her ankle around me and leaned into me.
“So do you want to get to know me, then?” She asked seductively, eyes peering out from the curtain if her dark hair.
“Uhuh.” I answered breathlessly, enraptured by the energy between us.
“What do you want to know?” We exchanged names. “It’s my birthday today.” She said, snuggling closer and trying again to kiss me. “I just turned 21.”
“Wait–really? I might have to see some ID.”
She showed me an ID that could have been her–I guess. It was printed lengthwise like a book, rather than width-wise like a drivers license. It did, indeed say she was “Underage until July 2, 2011.”
Would I even know if it was fake? Did I even care as her hands roamed my body and her skin pressed eagerly against mine.
“Is there anything else you want to know?” She asked. But all I could think of was the delicious curve of her neck and shoulder. Of their own volition my lips traced that delicate white curve.
She raised her lips to mine and this time I succumbed, her mouth dominating mine as our bodies tried to merge orally.

Just then there was a flash.

“Wait, what was that?” I looked around, but she drew me back to her, kissing me fervently. Some guys were laughing at us. One of them came over with a camera. She draped herself around me.
“Wait.” I said, as calmly as I could. “I don’t want to be photographed.”
“But this is my best friend!” she protested. “it won’t go on Facebook–I promise!”
“Come on, it’s her birthday!” He chided as she pouted.
“Oh all right.” she draped herself over me as he snapped a pic.
“She tends to get her way.” Another of the guys remarked.
“I know, she’s a bully!” I replied, but I was smiling.
We returned to snogging, her hands taking more and more liberties. I pushed her fingers out if my black satin D-cup.
“Let’s go somewhere private”
“How about the bathroom?”
“Ewe! No! I do not fuck in the bathroom!” (Have you seen the bathroom at these clubs?) “How about my car?” I countered, batting her greedy paw away from the hem of my dress. “Let’s get something to drink, first, though, huh?”
She lead me by the hand to the bar. I started to protest–but shrugged: in for a penny and all that.
“I’m so horny. I want you so bad!” She enthused as the bartenders ignored us.
“I know.” I gulped.
“We are going to car after this, right?”
“Yeah. Ok.” I responded, losing all resistance. I crossed myself, hoping I wasn’t making a big mistake.

She had her ID on the table.

“Um, why does your ID say your name is Jessie when you told me it was Chloe?”
“Oh, my name is Jessie, but my friends call me Chloe.”
Just then her friend spied her ID.
“Jessie, I didn’t know you were 21 today!” He exclaimed.

Then he gave me a smarmy look, leaned forwards and kissed her. She returned the kiss enthusiastically.

I moved to the other end of the bar, commanding the bartenders attention.

“I really need a drink!”‘

Hot Date

I was running late. For my date. My first date in months. At first it was a cute kinda late…couldn’t figure out what to wear, texted her to let her know I’d be 15 minutes late…

Then it got ugly.

I started my car, put it in reverse…and…


My wheels could not find traction.

I eased it forward and tried again.


Oh shit! A quick text to let her know–r u serious? She replies.

Finally, now 45 minutes late, I free my wheels from the evil snow and head off into the night.

As soon as I had a good grasp of where I was going I gave her a call. After I apologized profusely, she immediately started complaining about how tired and broke she was. Ew, nothing’s more ugly than a whiney stud I think to myself, but whatever, she had a long day, we’ve never met before, I guess I can’t blame her for being upset. I slowly gentle her into a better mood, and we chat until I have to hang up to pay attention to my directions.

Despite the fact that she’s been in the area where we agreed to meet since before I took my hour-long drive, I arrive at Jillian’s first. It’s a large, barn-like building filled with pool tables and games. I spot a pony-tailed butch with a couple femmes. We all end up in the bathroom at the same time, and if I was wondering if they were all gay the girl-gossip pretty much clears that up. When I get out I sit near them by the window waiting for my date. She calls me to tell me that she’s parking, and I wait, peering out the window into the cold dark.

Finally I see someone approaching. It’s either my date or a man. Sasha talks about a 100 Footer, but you have to be able to tell someone’s a woman from a hundred feet before you can guess she’s a lesbian. This is a pretty white area, so I figure that it’s my date and meet her at the door. As soon as she favors me with that sexy smile I know it is my date, and that I like her!

We sit down at the bar.

“You look so innocent.” She tells me. “Do you go on a lot of dates?”

“Um,” I wrack my brain, “not so much.” I get that all the time. I have a round, young looking face, and a sweet smile that got me a lot farther than it probably should have on the streets. “Why, do you?”

“Well, yeah, I live on my own…I like to get out.” She changes the subject. “I am so broke!”

“You know what,” I give it a beat. “That does not surprise me. Just about everybody I’ve ever dated was broke.”

We talked for hours. As our conversation circled round she kept asking me one of the most annoying questions ever. “What are you thinking?”

“What do you mean what am I thinking?”

“You keep smiling.”

“You keep smiling!

What could I say? It was hard enough to think about our conversation when I could feel the warmth of the spot where our legs were touching…aside from occaisionally surveying our surroundings to make sure none of these straight white folks had a problem with our blatant lesbian flirting…or did they think she was a man? But no one but the bartender seemed to pay us any mind, and that was just to make sure we were taken care of.

About the millionth time she asked that I told her: “I want to kiss you.”

After a bit we left and got into her car. She got popped a CD and leaned back.

“Go ahead and kiss me.” She said, “Satisfy your curiosity.”

So I leaned in hesitantly and kissed her. It felt a little odd being the aggressor with someone so butch.

“Do you like aggressive femmes?” I asked her.

Hell’s yeah!” She smiled. “I like a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets!”