Lezplay Halloween PT 1

White skin, black dress, red boa, funky-ass tights

My bad-ass fancy fishnets ripped at the crotch as I put them on. “Fuck it I’m wearing them!” I muttered, gritting my teeth as I worked them higher up my thighs and hips, thankful that I bought the size  C/Ds instead of the A/Bs the salesclerk recommended!

I shimmied into a black cocktail dress, secured my reddish-brown curly wig, and topped it off with a red feather boa, devil horns and a tail. That’s my idea of a costume–sexy and cheap! (Last year I went as a stud.)

I grabbed my boots and headed out into the unseasonably early snow.
That’s right, I said snow. On Halloween. In Massachusetts. And they say Global climate change isn’t real!

Thankful for my Colorado driving skills, I wove through the nearly horizontal snow, dodging downed trees and clueless drivers.

I got to the party at the same time as my friends, and we were greeted at the front door by a squat Latina in a scruffy t-shirt & sweatpants.
“This is the Adelina, the birthday girl” my friend introduced her, and her face lit up with joy at seeing me like I was her birthday present.

She gave me a big smile and a long, lingering hug. Just then a tall, big-boned woman dressed like superwoman walked in.

“Why don’t you have your costume on?” Superwoman twanged imperiously, and the tomboy retreated to the other room. “Oh hi, welcome!” She smiled at us.

To be continued…

British Hotness

A skinny interracial couple kissing

I Just Know

Just a little something to tide you over till I write again. (I don’t really know if this pic is British, it just looks it somehow.)

Buzzing Over My Guest Post! Updated

I know it’s been a minute–the last post was hard to follow up on–but I have been busy! Please check out my guest post: “A Boston Femme in Philly” on Buzzcuts and Bustiers!

I have one word for y’all:


(And toy shops…now do you wanna click over?)

Very sexy full figured femme in a corset

Meet the Dom

Start the Night, or

Start with our First Date.

Warning, the pic at the bottom is EVEN LESS safe for work than this one:

white woman tied up and crouched submissively

I went to give her a hug goodbye. She flashed me that shy, sweet smile, her eyes sparkling out from rather serious glasses.

She hugged me back briefly–and then threw me onto the bed!

Straddling me, she pinned my arms expertly over my head.

“You’re coming back to me, aren’t you?” she demanded, voice thick with desire, her hips grinding against me. Her physical presence overpowered my senses.

“Y-yes,” I gasped, barely able to speak, “I’m coming back to you”

“I didn’t say you could talk!” Her hot hand slammed down on my mouth, pushing my head slightly to the side. I can not even describe how much that turned me on.

“Are you my new little bitch?” She asked, rubbing fiercely against me.

Unable to talk, my whole boy trembled a delicious Yes! I’m your little bitch!

She stripped first my shorts then my shirt off me, binding the tank effortlessly around my wrists. Then she put the gloves on…

“You’re my dirty girl, aren’t you?” she commanded darkly, stroking my pussy with her fingers.

“Y–yes..” I started to say, but her hand slammed back down on my mouth.

“I didn’t say you could talk!”

“You’re my dirty girl, aren’t you?“She repeated.

I’m your dirty girl! every inch of my body trembled in silent ecstatic response. I was aware of the rapey overtones of this encounter–but why did it feel so good? Why did she need to dominate me so completely? And–why did I like it?

Her hips gyrated against mine, and I thrust back.

“I didn’t say you could move!” I desperately tried to will my body to stillness even as her fierce kisses and the press of her flesh against mine drove me crazy.

“Close your mouth!” She told me, then shoved her ample breast into my mouth.

I sucked with the desperation of a newborn baby.

“Slow down” she laughed. “I know what you want...you want, you want me to lick your pussy.”

She leaned over in the bed so her perfect round ass was by my face and engulfed my pussy in her hot, wet mouth.

Her tongue worked magic on my clit, sending me into a barely controlled frenzy as a I came again and again.

Sun raised up off of me, pressing her lips hotly on mine, sharing the sweet saltiness.

Under the heat of her gaze, I felt naked. Naked and vulnerable like I never had before.
“You’re so beautiful!” She marveled. I felt too naked to be beautiful--naked beyond not wearing clothes. “You’ve been good, baby, you can use your hands.”

But I did not want to be good, I wanted to be bad so she could punish me more.

Sun released my hands and I cupped her full breasts as we kissed.

That only lasted a minute or two, and then she had me tied up and blindfolded, kneeling in front of her wide open legs at the edge of the bed.

I want you to lick it” She said, grabbing me by the hair. I had a brief, rueful thought about my dental dam as she pressed my face into her pussy–but hey, master’s orders!

Sun’s pussy-lips were sweet and delicious as I worked them with my mouth and tongue…seeking out the pearl of her clit from the soft, elongated flesh of her labia. Soft moans escaped her mouth along with something that sounded suspiciously like:

“I could be your girlfriend”

I licked and sucked until finally an earthquake rocked through her body, and, quivering, she pushed me away.

After a moment, Sun took off my blindfold. I stared, dazed, at her beauty.
“It’s time to go home now.” She informed me solemnly.
“I’m not done” Sun said pointedly, “But it’s late. I want you to go home and touch yourself while you think of me.” She admonished.
“I, I will…” I gasped, still not compose-mentis, trying to locate my clothing.
“Go home now–” She laughed a little. “I don’t want your mother to hate me already!”
“You want to meet my mother?
“Well, I’m going to have to eventually–you already met my son”

Interracial Lesbian Bondage

Not Quite This Ellaborate

Second Date

 Close up of Black and White Barbies--look like they're about to kiss

Start with Sun and my First Date.

I drove down to Mattapan, already knowing the route half by heart. Although it was late, folk were still out on their porches and on lawn chairs. A little boy no older than eight years old rode by on his bike.

I parked on her street and got out: a tall, long haired white woman in a tank top and shorts.

Three little children stopped their game to stare at me blankly.

“Hi!” I greeted them politely, and a smile slipped out on the oldest girl’s face. She waved back.

“He has a tattoo!” The littlest one cried incredulously as I passed.


Sun met me at the door in a navy tank and ragged jeans that hugged her luscious curves. A clip on the top of her head secured a mess of straight hair and extensions.

She showed me upstairs and offered me a drink: sex on the beach blended with ice and peppermint schnops.

We talked over her loud music as she expertly rolled up a blunt. Sun had little altars all over her room: one for her family, one for her money, and a third one that she never explained.

I told her how frustrated I was that my dealer wanted more from me than just a business transaction.

“They always want something extra!” She exclaimed, lighting up. “I wish I had a job so I could just be a customer. Mostly I find out who has what and let them think they’re gonna get it…”

As she went on about how frustrating it was for her not to be taken seriously by these dudes, her masculine side came through: if it wasn’t for the sloping brown expanse of her cleavage and the barely contained wildness of her “hair”, I would have sworn I was looking at a slender Malcolm Jamal Warner.

“So,” she said, snapping back to femme mode and eying my slightly tomboyish look. “Are you the boi in this relationship? Is that how this works”

“I don’t know,” I hedged, thinking of the masculine side I had just seen. “I think maybe you are.”

“You might be right.” She smiled, nodding thoughtfully, acknowledging me perception of her masculinity.

The whole time we were together I just felt so drawn to her! I just wanted to touch and kiss her…but she was stand-offish.

At one point she reached out and touched my hair. After a timid stroke, she ran her hands through it again and again, each time with more surety. My face pressed into her chest as she moved into position in front of me, her hands working magic that went right through me. The next thing I knew she was gathering my long straight hair firmly at the top of my head.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m doing your hair.” (duh) She fastened it at the top.

Next she started in on make-up: I felt like a human barbie doll as her sure hands dibbed and dabbed make-up on my eyes, cheeks and lips. No one had ever made me up before. It felt good.

When she was done I looked in the mirror. I looked a horror show: grey around my eyes made me look dead, or at least on my way to decomposing.

“You don’t like it, do you?” She asked bashfully. “I guess that’s why you don’t…”

“Well…racoon eyes…”

“You see the problem!” We both laughed.

“It’s getting late,” I said, looking at my phone and cursing my lack of anything even remotely resembling game. “I’d better go home.”

“Okay”, she said.

I went over to her to give her a goodbye hug, and…

To Be Continued…

Too Many Dudes

Dude in t-shirt--says "Do Not Cock Block"

Did I feel nervous driving to the heart of the ghetto to meet a woman who I had only met online at her house?


Did I do it anyways? Yes.

I could hear my best friend Tina’s voice in my head:

“You better be carefull.” She’d say, shaking her head, her  neatly pressed hair waving back and forth under her cap, “Go ahead, boo boo, but you never know, you could show up at her house and there could be dudes there–” Implying dire consequences.

But my gut told me it would be okay, so I drove down there. Boston is an incredibly diverse, yet still  starkly segregated city. I’m reminded most vividly of that on the snake ride from my house to Mattapan,: as complexions darken dramatically from mostly white to almost exclusively shades of brown.

The early evening streets and porches were filled as I pulled up: people barbequing, dudes on bikes. I think its safe to say I was the only white person on the block. I felt like my skin was painted with iridescent paint–my skin glowed so bright in contrast with those around me. I covered my shoulders with a hoodie, wishing I had a cap on.

“Hello” A couple nodded as they walked by, me, and I said friendly “Hi” back.

She opened the door, even more gorgeous than in her pictures: sweet brown eyes framed by sexy black-rimed glasses and a swoop of wavy dark brown hair.  A tight t-shirt and jeans with a tantalizing series of holes up the thigh clung to her curvaceous form.

“Oh, you came earlier than I thought.” She greeted me, her smile shy and inviting. “My friend’s here-he just got here, but he won’t stay long. ”

We sat on the porch drinking Pina Coladas. I was trying to assess the situation: what was he to her?

From the looks he was giving her, he was more than just a friend. Or he wanted to be. As men do, he dominated the conversation, and I learned more about him than I wanted (just go away, already!) but I managed to learn a little about her in the kitchen as she mixed up more drinks.

She was 37, three kids, one grand-kid (!) and no job, but possibly going back to school. Not looking for a relationship, just something discrete. She said she’d been with women before, but always kept it on the low. Greeat! I silently cursed my libido that was drawing me towards her even as my logical mind screamed–not the one!

She finally got Dude to leave, and agreed to come out with me. (After I offered to pay her way in.)

“So, where y’all going?” Dude asked before leaving.

“The Randolph Country Club.” I answered.

“Where’s that?”
“Randolph” We both answered in tandem.

To Be Continued…

Artist Unkown–But Appreciated!

Sexy Woman's body