Lauras lesbian awakening
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Laura's Story: An Interracial Lesbian RomanceChapter 234 free porn video
Laura's body ached for a while after her evening with Eric and Mavis, but that went away before long. What lingered was her sadness at not being able to have the emotional and sexual intimacy with Mavis that she had planned in her fantasies. Even worse were the myriad anxieties caused by her memory of Eric's clear lust for Mavis, and Mavis's flirtatious response.
At work, Rhonda dropped a malicious bomb on her by casually remarking, as they passed one another entering and leaving the restroom, "Hi, Laura. Gosh, must've crushed you to see that stunning young Tamara Taylor just quit like that, eh?"
Laura blushed beet red. She knew she had not seen Tamara around and had wondered why. After all, the girl had fallen deeply in love with Laura, honestly and completely in love, after Laura had found her g-spot and made her nearly perish in a string of glorious orgasms. She had been so in love that even Laura had been mildly embarrassed.
"Quit?" Laura half-choked.
"Oh, you didn't know?" Rhonda turned sickeningly sweet and confidential, suddenly Laura's oldest, trustiest friend. "She quit last week, just like that. Moved to Europe or something, I heard. Maybe getting married." Rhonda raised one blonde eyebrow. "What a loss, right?" she lowered her voice to a whisper. "What a gorgeous body. And face. She was perfect. I don't think she liked our type, though. I tried to flirt with her once and she gave me the icicle treatment. Did you try?"
"Oh... no, never," Laura mumbled, confused and hurt and dumfounded. "Too beautiful for me."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Rhonda adopted her most sarcastic, cutting tone. "What about Randi? She's just as beautiful."
This made Laura blush again. They both knew that Randi was now sleeping with Rhonda instead of Laura. It made Laura painfully, deeply jealous and angry, and she nearly gave into her anger right there. She hated Rhonda anyway, for any number of reasons. The cunt. How can you bring that up and fling it in my face, you harpy!
Instead, she took a deep breath, looking away, so as not to be tempted to scratch out the witch's eyes. "Yes... she is very beautiful," she said, softly, feeling on the verge of tears and not wanting Rhonda to see them.
Then she hurriedly brushed past Rhonda and walked away quickly, surprised at the sharp pain she felt inside at the mention of Randi's name. By the time she got back to her office, she was in bad shape. Her fears about Mavis being attracted to Eric mingled with her shock at Tamara's disappearance and her loss of Randi to Rhonda to truly sink her spirits. She was very depressed.
She realized that it was precisely this kind of distressing contretemps that in the past had driven her to Karen for hours of depraved sex, so hot, masochistic, and twisted that it scorched away any vestige of naively amorous longing for the darling girls Laura craved so deeply. It was really in order to prevent this that after work she drove by the apartment house where she had last seen Tamara, having helped her with the boxes, and then, in Tamara's narrow twin bed, having fucked the beautiful girl into a seventh heaven of sexual rapture.
She loved me, Laura thought, mawkishly, embarrassed to be going over and over it but unable to forget it. I loved having her love me. It meant she would let me have her again and again, and that Stewart didn't matter. Did she really just take off like that?
Laura found it hard to believe. Almost in a daze, as if sleepwalking, she parked her car and moments later found herself ringing the doorbell of Tamara's apartment. Or former apartment. The door was answered by a young, slender black girl who looked vaguely familiar. Then Laura saw the long braid coming directly out the hair at the top of her forehead. The girl in the picture! Layla? Shayla? What was her name?
The girl smiled at Laura. She had a beautiful, open, friendly smile, betraying no suspicion or annoyance. "Yes?"
"Hi, my name is Laura. I'm a friend of Tamara's. From work. Is she in?"
Only now did Laura sense that someone else was inside the apartment, behind the girl. But there appeared to be nothing private going on since the girl opened the door even wider, though her intriguing face turned into a frown of concern.
"Oh, you didn't know? She must have forgotten to tell you, it was all so sudden. Tamara moved to Italy. She went over there with her boyfriend. They left last Tuesday."
Laura knew her face must have sunk, and she could even feel her shoulders slump in disappointment. On the other hand, she remembered to stand up straight again quickly. It wouldn't do for her to seem like a rejected lover.
"Oh. No, she didn't tell me. I... well, I really only knew her in passing. Not very well. She probably didn't think it was important to tell me."
There was an uncomfortable pause. Then the girl brightened up again, probably feeling sorry for Laura's distress. "You want to come inside for a minute?"
She opened the door very wide now, inviting Laura in. Now Laura caught a glimpse of another black girl inside. This one, though not beautiful by any standard definition, sped like an arrow straight into the depths of Laura's overactive libido. She was very black, like Cecilia or Charise, and had flashing, ambiguous eyes. Her dense, wiry hair was drawn up in a broom-like spray behind her head, wrapped in a bright yellow scarf. She was wearing jeans and a big, loose sweatshirt. The girl at the door saw Laura looking at her, and Laura quickly covered by smiling and accepting the invitation.
"Only for a second," she said, stepping into the apartment.
"My friend Dawn," the girl said, introducing Laura to the very black girl. "You said your name was-"
"Laura."
"I'm Shayla." Shayla beamed at Laura again with her wide-open, innocent, friendly smile.
"Of course," Laura said. "The girl in the picture." She pointed to the mantel. "Tamara told me about you. You were in New York, auditioning."
Shayla nodded, beaming proudly. "I'm going back, too. I got the job. I'm going to be a dancer in the Dance Theater of Harlem."
She was a slender, half-formed slip of a thing, but this made her nearly burst the buttons of her man's white shirt with pride, though it was clear that her breasts were small to nothing. She had a dancer's body, almost a female sprinter's body, very athletic, not an ounce of fat, only sleek muscle, from the little that Laura could actually see, but not the bulging, glossy, grotesque muscles that a bodybuilder like Brandi had, or even the impressive muscles Kendra sported from working out all the time. Shayla's were the muscles a dancer needs to spring and sail through the air, or to spin perfectly in one place, to leap, to bend but not break, to arch and soar and descend with superior grace to the floor.
Both Laura and Dawn broke spontaneously into admiring applause, so swept up were they in Shayla's immense joy. "Congratulations," Laura said. "You must be very good."
"She is very good," Dawn said, looking almost as proud. "She's the best. You should see her."
"I'd love to," Laura said, genuinely.
She liked them both as well as feeling a powerful sexual attraction to Dawn. But she couldn't look at her very intently since she didn't want to seem rude and intrusive, and she was also afraid her lust would show.
"I'm leaving for New York tomorrow," Shayla said, ebulliently. "Dawn and her boyfriend are going to be living here. They're taking over the apartment for Tamara and me."
"I was just on my way out," Dawn said, heading for the door behind Laura. "We still have a lot to do before we move our stuff over here tomorrow." She squint-smiled at Laura, riveting Laura's gaze with her ambiguous dark eyes. "I'm so glad I could meet you."
"Nice to meet you, Dawn."
God, I'd give anything to go to bed with you! Laura thought, but bit her tongue and twisted her fingers together, trying very hard to be disciplined and not to give in to these horrible impulses. The girl was enchanting in some mesmerizing way, and Laura's heart was also sunk by the knowledge that she had a boyfriend who would be living her with here. You can't have every lovely girl! she told herself. Just get used to it!
In seconds, though, the door shut, Dawn was gone, and she and Shayla were alone. Shayla, it quickly appeared, was one of those people who are at ease anywhere, in any situation, and never made nervous by anything. She was relaxed and friendly, as before. It was Laura who was nervous.
"I guess it must be a little shock to you," she said to Laura. "Italy and all. It was pretty quick. Would you like a Coke? Or some green tea? I drink green tea all the time. Calms me down."
Laura smiled. "You are very calm. I'm impressed. My heart would be fluttering if I were moving to New York tomorrow."
"Oh, it is," Shayla smiled back. "I just don't let it show."
"Tea would be great."
Shayla brewed them both a cup a tea, while Laura watched. She also realized that Shayla was one of those people who were not intrinsically beautiful but nevertheless very attractive because of their natures, because they radiated a kind of comfort with themselves and genuine interest in others that was irresistible. Shayla had a sort of bulbous nose with a flat front which on many women would have been flagrantly homely, but on her it was barely noticeable. She had a few unpleasant acne scars on one cheek, and not perfectly straight teeth, but her smile was radiant and stirring, and she moved with a grace-obviously a dancer's grace-that Laura could only envy.
She was wearing a white man's dress shirt with the tails hanging out and down her thighs, and black stirrup pants, no shoes. Her hair, except for the long, bizarre braid that came down from the top of her forehead, was swept back and up into a bushy little clump, like Dawn's had been, and tied with a rawhide strip. Even the braid seemed totally natural after a while, and instead of drooping oddly in front of her face, she managed to sweep it to one side or another, where it looked original and even inspired, making her more interesting than ever. She was not nearly as black as Dawn; instead, her smooth skin had the rich deep milk chocolate color of Randi or Ada.
Laura felt very good and relaxed being with her. The green tea really did have a calming effect. They talked about Laura's job and Shayla's new opportunity.
"It's about the most exciting thing that can happen to you if you're a dancer," Shayla said. "Especially a black dancer."
"I'll bet it is," Laura agreed. "I wish I could see you dance."
"I used to dance around here," Shayla swept one arm around to indicate the whole room. "We had all the furniture pushed to the sides. "That's when Tamara was here. I've sort of stopped in the past two weeks. Don't want to sprain my ankle or anything."
"I know, I saw it all cleared out for your dancing when I was here once before," Laura said. "Tamara said you practiced dancing here."
"I guess you were sleeping with her, eh?" Shayla said, apparently without any devious intent, as if she were asking if Laura and Tamara belonged to the same bridge club.
But Laura, as usual, was totally flummoxed and actually choked on her tea. She gulped and spluttered and coughed, holding her fist to her mouth, turning purple. It seemed like one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. She was aware of Shayla pounding her back and asking if she was okay.
"Yes," she swallowed. "I... think I'm okay. Just a little drop of tea... down the wrong pipe."
Shayla withdrew, sitting down across from Laura again. "I didn't mean to make you choke," she smiled with concern. "Sorry."
"Don't be. My fault."
"I shouldn't have said that. It just popped out, I guess. It doesn't mean anything to me. If you were, I mean. Sleeping together. It just seemed a little weird. She's kind of... well, you know... kind of a surface kind of girl, know what I mean? Not very deep. And she's so gorgeous and everything, and all the guys are after her all the time. And she was so proud of going with that linebacker guy she moved to Italy with. He got a job on some football team over there. I think that really means he wasn't good enough to cut it over here, but Tamara thought it means he's going to the hall of fame or something. Anyway, suddenly all she could talk about was you. 'Laura, this girl from work, she's so beautiful. She's so sexy, I wish I looked like her. Laura was so sweet to me, I just like being around her so much.' Laura this, Laura that. I don't think anyone ever had the effect on her you had. Not since I knew her anyway."
This monologue had a very mixed effect on Laura, who was flattered to be hearing it and filled with mortification at the same time. After all, Shayla was rattling on about Laura being a lesbian, which Laura did everything in her power to conceal. She didn't know what to say.
"I'm sorry," Shayla looked down, genuinely upset with herself. "I really put my foot in it."
"No," Laura shook her head, looking her straight in the eye. "You're right. We did... do that a couple of times. It was really quite wonderful for both of us."
Shayla grinned, half-ashamed, apparently to be thinking this. "I'll bet. You're both so beautiful. She told me you were. But you know, hardly anyone is as beautiful as she is. It took me a while to get used to all the guys mooning after her and not even looking at me."
Laura wanted to bite at this invitation, to tell Shayla how fetching she was herself, and that she shouldn't let a gorgeous but vacuous airhead like Tamara make her feel inferior. But she decided quickly it would make her seem too predatory. Not only a lesbian, but a horny one eager to fuck every pretty young girl in sight. Still, it made her look differently at Shayla. This lovely young girl, why wouldn't men want her? Laura could suddenly recognize a yearning in her own mind and body that she understood very well.
"I love that braid," she said, indicating the long braid that was currently swept to the left side of Shayla's face. "Where did you get such a brilliant idea? It makes you seem so... original, you know? So creative."
Shayla squirmed and smiled, flattered. "Most people think it's dorky. I have to tie it back when I dance, or else it's flopping around like a rope or a switch."
Laura smiled at her during a long, fairly uncomfortable pause, and then self-consciously looked away, aware that she was giving Shayla the smoldering, sexual stare she reserved for those she desperately desired.
"I had an experience with another woman once," Shayla said, almost brightly, as if remarking on the weather.
This, Laura reflected, was a natural part of the girl's relaxed, frank, unruffled mode, the aura she had of not really being shocked or unnerved by anything.
"Did you," she said, not asking, more just filling the silence. "And was it good?"
"Not really. She was another dancer. Lots of dancers are gay. I guess you know that. I think it's from focusing on your own body so much."
"Actually, I didn't. But I guess everyone thinks the men are, at least."
Shayla smiled with intriguing mysteriousness. "Oh, not all of them."
"You went to bed with one of them too."
Shayla nodded shyly. "Two of them. One's my current boyfriend, though he's in school right now in Ann Arbor. We hardly see each other."
"I guess Barishnykov wasn't gay. He had lots of girls, didn't he?"
For the first time, Shayla almost lost her poise. She seemed briefly to swoon, amusingly so to Laura. "Oh wow, I think he did. He could sure have had me, if he wanted to."
"I know what you mean. Pretty good looking guy... for a Russian. Right?"
Now Shayla looked puzzled. Laura knew the girl wanted to ask her why she would be attracted to a man too. Before she could ask, Laura veered back.
"Did you ever think about trying it again?" she asked gently, but kept her eyes tightly riveted to Shayla's.
Shayla held Laura's gaze without flinching, then looked down at her tea cup. "Not until now," she whispered.
Though weary after a day of work, Laura felt herself perk up. She had not come by this apartment with such an intent, but neither had she expected to run into Shayla or Dawn. She now wondered what she had expected.
"Do you mind if I take off my jacket and stay a while?" Laura asked.
Shayla shook her head. She smiled. "I don't mind."
Laura took off her suit jacket and set it carefully on a nearby kitchen chair. She turned back to Shayla.
"Aren't you going to show me a few dance moves? Before you run off to New York? So I won't feel cheated?"
Shayla grinned and shook her head. Her one long black braid dangled in front of her face bizarrely, and she crossed her eyes in a clownish frown, looking at it in front of her nose. "See what I mean?" she smiled.
"I want to see you dance."
Shayla, who was sitting on the floor in a lotus position, got to her feet. She lifted her tea cup and saucer up and put them on the small coffee table Laura had been using.
"Are you sure? Because I can't dance in this. I have to change."
"Then change," Laura smiled. "How often to you have a devoted audience of one?"
Shayla was a performer, and this offer was too great for her to turn down. She quietly disappeared into the bedroom, the back one where Tamara and Laura had enjoyed an exhausting marathon of fucking only a few weeks earlier, and returned a few moments later wearing a white leotard. She had tucked the long, thin braid into the bun of hair at the back of her head. Her body was even more slender than Laura had imagined, though the leotard of course flattened everything out anyway.
But she had a catlike grace that was now even more apparent. She put on a CD of Bach's fourth Brandenburg Concerto and danced for Laura in the small apartment for the next twenty minutes. Her lean, willowy body swooped and soared and spun through the room, dipping and whirling in stunning, graceful motions that had Laura's heart fluttering. The stark white leotard contrasted thrillingly with the deep rich dark chocolate of her skin, a contrast Laura always found fascinatingly erotic anyway, now hypnotic and scintillating as Shayla showed off her amazing physical skills.
When the music stopped, she was panting and shiny with a thin film of perspiration. This aroused Laura even more. She clapped, genuinely excited, as Shayla bounced over to the CD player and shut it off.
"God, you are terrific," Laura said. "I see why they gave you the job."
Shayla beamed, still panting. "I'm glad you liked it."
Feeling bold in the aftermath of this exciting performance, and liking Shayla very much, Laura went over to her and carefully disengaged the long braid, freeing it to dangle again in front of Shayla's face. Shayla's eyes were on hers the whole time, and Laura brushed the braid to the side so that their mouths could come together. They kissed slowly, without any aggressive passion or insistence. Shayla's mouth opened to Laura's searching tongue after a while.
Laura ran her hands lightly over the leotard, up and down. Shayla had so little body fat that she seemed only half-formed, as if she were a fourteen-year-old girl instead of a young woman in her early twenties. Laura realized that Charise or Jane, both teenagers, had more flesh on them than this girl, larger breasts, fleshier, rounder bottoms. But Shayla was superbly conditioned and supple, and her body seemed to melt willingly into Laura's as they kissed and embraced more eagerly.
Laura kissed her damp neck, then her ear. "I want to take this thing off you," she whispered. "I love your lean dancer's body."
Shayla batted her long eyelashes at Laura. She was not above a little coquettish teasing. "It's hard to take off. I'll take it off for you."
Laura felt a hot squirt of sexual fire shoot through her whole body at these words. Things with Shayla were so natural, so relaxed. There was no complicated flirtation or anxiety, as with so many others. She and Shayla enjoyed one another. Shayla had loved dancing for Laura, and Laura had loved watching. And now they were going to enjoy thrilling sex together, and it was all so relaxed and natural. Laura was filled with wonder.
"I would be so grateful if you did," she whispered back. "I want to kiss every inch of you."
Shayla smirked sexily at her. "Let me pull the drapes shut. I don't want to do it in the back bedroom because that's where you did it with Tamara."
Laura felt another hot, red blush rising to her face, but she fought it off, suffering only a temporary pink bloom. She didn't know whether to say something stupid, like 'Oh, it didn't mean anything, ' or just be silent. Shayla pulled the drapes quickly, so Laura chose the latter. God, how embarrassing, she thought.
But Shayla seemed unperturbed by it and was back in a second. She even took Laura's hand and drew her over to the worn leather sofa.
"Here will be fine," she said, matter-of-factly.
With a fluid motion born of many years spent pulling leotards on and off, she peeled the garment off and was completely naked. Being a few inches shorter, she looked up expectantly at Laura in the dim light, since the room was much darker now that she had pulled the drapes. Laura removed her own clothing in a hurry, feeling very conspicuously dressed since Shayla was now stark naked.
Shayla helped Laura off with her bra. "Oooohhh, you have nice ones," she said, letting her long black fingers curl around the small, perfect globes of Laura's pale naked breasts.
Laura cradled Shayla's face in both hands and kissed her mouth more heatedly, driving her tongue in deep, feeling her own passion rise and throb and ache inside her body. She somehow went from tentatively embracing this marvelous young woman with the half-formed body of a child to clasping Shayla urgently, hungrily, digging her fingers into the girl's supple flesh, kissing her in a ravening fit of wanton need.
"Oh god, honey, you're so lovely," she panted into Shayla's neck. "I want you so bad."
Shayla smiled up at her, sensual and soft. "I want you too, Laura."
"Come here... lie down with me and let me kiss you forever."
Jayla
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