Visiting
Jacki
by Cassandra Snow
Visiting
Jacki
| “So,
what did you think?” Jacki asked as we made our way out of the stifling
city heat into her slightly cooler Belmont Avenue apartment.
July in Chicago had never seemed so brutal during the years I had spent as a part of the urban landscape; yet, as I tread the familiar footsteps of my past, everything seemed intensified. The neighborhood was grittier, the air thicker, my spirit ever more restless. According to the itinerary Jacki prepared for me, I was required to tag along to her Tuesday night yoga class. It sounded like a good idea to me. I had discovered yoga myself shortly after I had left my life as a midwestern bohemian to become an executive’s wife, living in the suburbs of Philadelphia. As Gabe was away on yet another business trip, it felt like heaven to spend a week in the city I loved with the woman with whom I had shared such a memorable history of acting classes, pregnancy scares and cheesecake runs. “You’re right. That was a great class,” I admitted as I threw myself onto the sofa. “I told you so,” Jacki smirked with self-satisfaction as she waltzed into the kitchen. “What do you want to drink?” she called to me. “Iced coffee would be good.” “Sorry. Diet Coke is all I serve,” she announced. I heard the refrigerator door open and close and ice cubes clink before she emerged with two glasses and one can of the beloved elixir. “So why did you ask what I wanted?” I countered. “It was the polite thing to do,” she laughed as she sat down beside me. Speechless for a rare moment, we gazed at one another. “It’s good to see you,” she said as she gently rested her tiny size six foot on my knee. “It feels good to be here. And thanks for letting me stay with you. I really appreciate it.” “What? I haven’t seen you in years. Did you really think I’d let you stay in a hotel?” “I suppose not, but it is sweet of you,” I persisted. “Shut up.” “Okay.” I always knew when to accommodate her. “Shit, it’s hot in here, isn’t it?” she asked as she got up to open the window. “A bit.” As she returned to the sofa, she held the can, now dripping, against my cheek. As I looked up at her and smiled, she let the can cool my neck. Drops of dew fell, one after another, onto my chest. “Let’s get out of these smelly clothes,” she suggested as she set down the soda and stripped off her leotard. Pleased as I was to be rid of the clinging garment, I peeled off my own. We enjoyed the slight breeze blowing through the uncurtained window and lay toe to toe, listening to the city sounds I missed so much. A siren then blared, cutting into our silent reverie. “You know,” Jacki began, “in all the years we shared fitting rooms at Field’s, I never really looked at you. You truly are beautiful.” Knowing that her eyes were surveying my form fully for the first time, I felt a tremble in my belly. My friendship with Jacki had always been intimate, and, yes, I did occasionally fantasize, but… As our damp bodies lay glistening, I couldn’t deny that my feelings for her had crossed that most illusive of lines. Without words, we moved close and embraced. At first our lips touched gently, then with the fullness of passion. I brought my hand to her breast and laid her down beneath me. Jacki smiled. As I looked into the face that I knew so well, I couldn’t help but to feel that our friendship of the past nine years existed solely for the purpose of bringing us to that moment. It felt so right to lay with her, the softness of her skin caressing mine. Breast against breast, we kissed, her lips supple against my own. Never before had I tasted lips so sweet. I knew without a doubt that I would never again enjoy the harsh touch waiting for me upon my return home. Longing to bring every inch of our bodies into contact, I placed my thigh against the perfect curve of her mound. “I want this. I want it as much as you do,” she whispered. “Please. Show me that you want me.” I began to savor the softness at the nape of her neck. Her soft blonde hair caressed my cheek with every kiss as my lips made their way to her breast. As I took her nipple into my mouth, I envisioned us as mythological goddesses – one drinking of the milk of the other for divine nourishment. I sucked gently, and from deep within her throat, she moaned. I shivered with the knowledge that I was giving pleasure to the woman who I knew better than I knew myself, and my passion intensified. I wanted to give her more. I wanted to make her cum. Moving to her other breast, I teased the nipple, grazing it with my teeth. As she arched toward me, allowing more of her roundness to fill my mouth, I bit her firm nub full and hard, knowing the rush I felt when given the opportunity to experience my own body. I trailed kisses downward, reveling in the firmness of her abdomen and lingering playfully at her golden belly ring. Her skin tasted salty as drops of perspiration rolled along her sides and soaked into the fabric. Unable to resist any longer, I positioned myself between her thighs. As she spread wide for me, I observed her tender petals opening slowly. She quivered in anticipation, and I wanted nothing more than to drink of her. As
I nibbled upon her outer petals, Jacki flowered, opening to full bloom
beneath the warmth of my breath. My tongue then began to caress her expanse,
starting back low at the pucker of her tight virgin ass and across her
creamy slit, only to lilt upward at her clit. I sucked that most beautiful
seed with a passion I had never known existed within me;
I pulled back and gently massaged her juices onto her inner thighs while allowing her to withdraw from the brink of climax. I wanted her to experience her own wetness. Once her breath slowed, she reached down to run her fingers through my hair. By the look in her eyes, I knew she was wanting, and I penetrated her fully with my tongue. As I thrust deeply within her, it was obvious there was no slowing down. She came hard, her walls pulsating as I drank of her. Still savoring the musty sweetness lingering on my lips and tongue, I lay beside her. Only then did she turn toward me and allow me to hold her close to my breast as a mother does a child. I always admired Jacki for the way she was able to embody every aspect of woman. She was a mother, a friend, a vixen, a child, an artist. Feeling her heartbeat against my own, I treasured the experience of knowing her as my lover, whether it ended up lasting a lifetime or only a moment. Suddenly she raised herself up onto her arms. “It’s my turn to take you,” she announced with a glimmer in her eye and a very naughty smirk upon her lips. She wasted little time in arriving at my gate. “Mmm, so wet,” she praised as her fingers circled my clit. “But I want to hear you scream.” She plunged one perfectly manicured finger into me. “Ohhh, that feels nice,” I cooed. “Do you need more?” she asked. “I need more,” I confirmed. Two fingers. “I think my baby needs three. Do you need three fingers?” she teased. “Yes. Give me three fingers.” “Beg me for it,” she demanded. “Please, I need it. I want it so deep. Give me three fingers.” And she did. “Four?” My cunt was dripping with my wetness, and her four tapered fingered slid easily into my hungry cunt. “You make me feel so good,” I gasped. I felt myself swelling to the point of bursting as I gaped around her insistent fingers. “You’re open so wide for me, but, you know, that’s still not filling you up,” she said. “I want to hear you cum.” Jacki then slid all five fingers into me, and as my cunt swallowed her to the wrist, I emitted a scream that was nothing less than earthshattering. “Mmm, I knew you could take it,” she smiled. She
withdrew her hand, coated with my juices, and began to lick each
Copyright © 2000
Cassandra Snow. All Rights Reserved.
About
The Author:
Cassandra Snow has worked in various forms of expression over the years– from poetry, playwriting and novel writing to dance, theatre and photography. A graduate of Northwestern University, Cassandra currently works as a freelance journalist/writer. In addition, she is the author of a collection of original poetry, two stage plays and numerous works which have appeared in publications throughout the U.S. and abroad. At present, she is working to bring her novel, Yogi Love, to completion.
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