Chapter 2: Butch Desires

Warning:This story is titled The Cuckquean 2: Butch Desires. However, the ‘cuckquean’ in the title refers to the main character, Jemima Khan. There is little cuckquean action in this story because it relates more of Jemima’s origins and her sexual desires, including how she loves to be dominated by masculine-looking, butch lesbians. Some of Jemima’s subsequent stories will return to the story’s origins—a submissive, bisexual wife who loves bringing home sexy young things so she can be ‘cucked’ by her husband. Most of the characters from the first Cuckquean story reappear in this episode.

Jemima Khan kissed her husband, Cillian, goodbye and watched as he strolled through the gates leading to the X-ray machines. Her pussy throbbed as she anticipated her evening to come. Jemima had promised the butch lesbian bartender at The Fox Hotel in Collingwood, Melbourne, she’d return when her husband took his annual break with his ex-teammates. The boys headed to Bali every year at this time.

Jemima knew Cillian and his mates would spend the week fucking every slut and ladyboy that would let them. She didn’t begrudge Cillian this week’s break, nor did she feel any jealousy over the girls he’d fuck. After all, Jemima spent this week indulging in her own fantasies. Jemima was bisexual with a strong preference for women. Yet, somehow, she’d fallen in love with Cillian, a man almost five years younger than her.

Cillian was a listed AFL player when Jemima met him. She and Cillian believed he was destined for greatness. Unfortunately, Cillian’s ability to read the play and get himself to the right areas of the field was always a step slower than his opponent’s. The big lummox tried, tried with everything he had. He trained hard, worked hard, and listened intently to his coaches. But after three fruitless years, the inevitable happened, and Cillian was delisted.

Without much hope, Cillian put his name into the draft, but his worst fears were confirmed, and he wasn’t picked up by any of the other teams. Defeated and deeply ashamed, Cillian reluctantly made his way home to the enormous house in Melbourne’s Brighton he shared with his wife, Jemima. To his surprise and endless gratitude, Jemima’s love for him was unaffected by his self-perceived ‘failure’.

Jemima, a radiologist with Melbourne’s Royal Children’s Hospital and a soft porn star under the pseudonym Jemima Starr, loved her big lunk of a husband to distraction. Jemima knew her husband wasn’t the brightest star in the night’s firmament. That, in fact, Cillian was borderline dumb. But the big guy had a big heart—a heart large enough for the emotionally fragile Jemima to hide inside.

Jemima was the seventh of seven children and a disappointment to her parents. Despite the marriage her parents had arranged for her, Jemima chose to continue with her education and become a radiologist. Then, as if to further rub her parents’ faces in her disobedience, Jemima had married a white man, a Roman Catholic white man to boot.

To punish her, Jemima’s father, Arjun, kicked her out of the inner family. Although her beloved older brother, Jaspirit, and her mother, Waheeda, ignored Arjun’s edict and regularly made time to see her, Jemima could no longer attend family gatherings and events. Cillian’s love for her and his steadfast support of her had allowed Jemima to come to terms with her banishment.

It was the night after Cillian had stared down her father that Jemima had first brought a young slut home for her husband to share. Two things happened that night: 1. Jemima realised she couldn’t live without regular woman-on-woman sex. And 2. She loved watching her husband’s big, thick cock splitting open some pretty, young slut’s cunt, especially if she (Jemima) was bound and helpless when Cillian did it. From that night on, Jemima often went hunting, looking for a fresh, legal-aged, bisexual woman to take home to her husband. Jemima hardly ever missed her prey.

On a Friday night, depending on customers, The Fox doesn’t close until after one a.m. Just before midnight and dressed to the nines in a Phoenix Rising Coloured Rhaine Midi-Cowl Bodycon dress, Jemima slid gracefully out of her Uber, opened the door and strutted into The Fox. The patrons at the door momentarily stopped talking as an exquisite piece of loveliness glided past them, her hips swinging sexily above her black 7-inch heels and with a pencil straight seam running up her stocking’s length.

Striding confidently to the bar, Jemima waited for Leslie the Lezzie, the butch lesbian barkeep, to notice her. Leslie, who’d often fantasised about Jemima returning but hadn’t the courage to call the beautiful Indian woman, almost dropped the schooners she carried when her eyes hit Jemima. Unawarely, Leslie’s tongue reached out to touch her suddenly dry lips.

Jemima smiled at one of the men sitting on a stool at the bar. Bamboozled by Jemima’s elegant beauty, the man quickly stood and offered her his seat. Thanking him with a soft touch on his flushed cheek, Jemima gracefully slid her shapely rear onto the stool, purposefully allowing her ass to touch the man’s groin as she did.

“Co-co-could I buy you a drink?” The man stammered.

Turning her liquid-brown eyes onto the young man, Jemima flashed her massive diamond engagement and wedding rings to the man and replied, “I would, but I don’t think hubby would approve, do you?”

“Ahh, probably not,” the man regretfully agreed before turning to his mates.

“Jaysus!” The man’s avowed bachelor friend muttered. “Even I’d give up dicks for a chance at that!”

Jemima, who had heard the ‘not so whispered’ comment, smiled at the pair and sultrily said, “And it’d be worth it, too.”

Jemima turned her attention back to the bar. Leslie, ignoring other patrons who had waited for longer, handed Jemima an expresso martini before returning her attention to the others. Smiling enigmatically, Jemima appreciatively sipped her drink and waited until Leslie could speak to her.

As Jemima sat, Gayle and Lynne, The Fox’s owners, took time to chat with her, trying to work out how their best but studiously single bartender knew the stunningly gorgeous woman sitting straight-backed and proud at their bar. They’d seen the massive rocks on the newcomer’s finger and hoped Leslie wasn’t making a grave mistake and becoming involved with a married woman.

Jemima handed Gayle her platinum credit card to ease any concerns she was mooching off Leslie and skilfully deflected their questions. Approaches from other patrons were met with a distant look and a raised hand so they could see her wedding rings. Insistent approaches were chased off when Leslie glared at them over the bar. Women and men approached Jemima in equal numbers, and although a few of the prettier girls would have been of interest if she was hunting for Cillian’s benefit, Jemima was uninterested in them tonight.

Finally, nearing two a.m., the bar emptied enough that Leslie could stop for a time and talk with Jemima. Standing near the gorgeous woman, Leslie, her typically uninterested libido sending warm pulses into her hair-matted pussy, furiously dried and polished glasses to place in the trays to be returned to the long fridges under the bar, ready for tomorrow’s rush. She had desired the exotic Indian woman since Jemima’s unexpected appearance the month before. Many times, Leslie had gotten Jemima’s card out, only to chicken out in the act of dialling, unable to believe the beautiful woman wanted her to call.

Now, a month later, almost to the day, Jemima was before her again, and poor old Leslie could not think of even one thing to say. Leslie saw Jemima looking amusedly over her glass at her as she dried and polished. Taking a deep breath, she blurted, “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I wanted to, but I couldn’t believe you wanted me to.” ‘Fuck! Even her laugh is beautiful,’ Leslie thought as Jemima’s chuckle chimed in her ear delightfully.

“I did say I’d come and see you when my husband and his friends took their annual trip,” Jemima smilingly said. “Today’s that day, and here I am.”

“Assuming it doesn’t get busy again, I can leave after I’ve dried and put these glasses away,” Leslie explained.

“Do you have a car, or do we need an Uber?” Jemima asked.

Leslie, disbelieving that Jemima had just said that she was prepared to leave with her, answered, “I have my bike, a Harley soft tail.”

“With a spare helmet?” Jemima queried.

“I can borrow one from Gayle,” Leslie stated.

“I’m not exactly dressed to sit on the back of a bike,” Jemima pointed out.

“Honey, I think you’re perfectly dressed to ride behind me. Especially if you don’t have panties on.”

“I don’t,” Jemima said, her eyebrow lifting challengingly.

Handing Jemima a full-faced pink helmet, Gayle firmly said, “Leslie, if you don’t take this gorgeous creature out of here immediately, I’ll take her instead. Hell, one look at this breathtaking girl and Lynne will not begrudge me a side affair. Well, not so long as she can share!”

Grinning at her boss, Leslie said, “Be back in a sec.” She disappeared through a side door before quickly reappearing, wearing a brown leather jacket and holding a backpack and an old-fashioned, open-faced helmet. Lifting the hinged bar, Leslie joined Jemima in the bar area before taking the gorgeous woman’s elbow in hers and escorting her out the door.

Several of the patrons, all friends of Leslie’s, whooped and wished her good luck as they exited the hotel. Blushing embarrassedly, Leslie checked both ways before guiding Jemima across the road to where her bike was parked. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled. “But they’ve been teasing me about being single for nearly a year. You’re the first one I’ve gone home with in that time.”

Leslie placed her backpack on the parcel rack behind the passenger’s seat, got on the bike and kick-started it. Jemima examined the bullish-looking lesbian woman. She marvelled at Leslie’s round head over a small neck that quickly flowed into large, muscly shoulders. Small breasts barely showed in the unzipped V of Leslie’s jacket, and what would be called a paunch if Leslie was a man bulged over her belt buckle. Leslie’s low-cut jeans were tucked into brown biker’s boots. Leslie’s helmet completely hid Jemima’s prospective lover’s short brown hair. At a casual glance, Leslie would easily be mistaken for a man.

A sudden flush raced through Jemima’s pussy as she basked in the powerful presence of a butch lesbian woman. ‘How long has it been since I was taken by a butch lover?’ Jemima wondered as she admired Leslie’s masculine form. ‘The answer?’ Jemima silently decided. ‘Too long!’ She waited until Leslie had flicked up the kick-stand and straightened the bike before she hiked her midi dress up to mid-thigh and climbed up behind her new friend.

“Where are we going?” Leslie shouted over the Harley’s roar.

“My place,” Jemima yelled back. “17 Mulgoa Street, Brighton.” Jemima tipped her head back and squealed gleefully as Leslie gunned the bike. With its rear wheel spinning and kicking up stones, Jemima speared her bike into the traffic and accelerated toward Brighton.

Turned on by her passenger’s excited enjoyment of her riding style, Leslie waited until they were on a piece of road without many traffic lights. Taking her left hand off the handlebar, Leslie reached back and found Jemima’s inner thigh. Tickling upwards, Leslie’s fingers encountered her sexy passenger’s lightly fur covered pussy. Delighting in Jem’s wet pussy hair, Leslie flicked her middle finger over Jemima’s clit, eliciting a moan from the Indian woman.

Jemima pushed her extensive, unfettered breasts against her butch friend’s broad back and moaned as she enjoyed Leslie’s fingering. Leslie had to return her hand to the bike’s handles regularly as she guided them towards Jemima’s home. However, as they rode, Leslie delved her fingers through Jemima’s soft bush every chance she got.

Arriving at Jemima’s house and pulling into the driveway, Leslie kicked the stand out and gaped. “Jaysus, woman!” Leslie exclaimed, her eyes wandering over the massive two-story building. “Just how rich a bitch are you?”

“Does it matter?” Jemima challenged.

“Not when you’re sitting on my face,” Leslie riposted.

“Here in the driveway?” Jemima coquettishly asked. “The neighbours will talk.”

“Perhaps not,” Leslie agreed as she took and pinched Jemima’s puffy nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. “But I think you should kneel and give me some head out here.” Forcing Jemima to her knees by squeezing her nipples and pulling her down, Leslie grabbed the back of Jemima’s head and pushed it against her crotch. “Suck, bitch,” she demanded.

Smiling, Jemima knelt and eagerly unbuckled Leslie’s belt before undoing her fly and pulling her jeans down. Jemima gasped when a ‘cock’ sprang through Leslie’s boxer’s fly and hit her pouting lips. With her hands shaking, Jemima pulled Leslie’s boxers down, exposing a thick, 6-inch rubber cock, its double end inserted through Leslie’s thick, hairy bush and into her cunt.

“I said, ‘suck, bitch’,” Leslie snarled as she tried to force Jemima’s head onto her ‘cock’.

Jemima leant back and smiled up at the bullish woman standing over her. “Leslie the lezzy, I am subservient to my husband, Cillian. No other. I’ll happily suck your cock, your manly tits, and anything else you want me to suck, but do not try to act as my Master. Am I clear?”

Leslie lowered her eyes and answered, “Yes, Mistress.”

Jemima sighed and said, “Leslie, nor do I wish to be your Mistress. I want you to be what you are—a butch lesbian that loves taking the masculine role. I want you to be my man for the night. If we’re both satisfied with how the night goes, in the morning, we can discuss how long you stay. Okay?”

“I get it,” Leslie grinned. “Now, suck, my little knob gobbler.”

Jemima chuckled as she held Leslie’s ‘cock’ and guided it into her mouth. Surprising her masculine-looking lady lover, Jemima gleefully swallowed it all in one swift gulp.

‘Wow!’ An impressed Leslie thought. ‘This will be a fun night.’ She placed her hand on Jemima’s head and face fucked her, checking to see if Jem would choke. She didn’t! “Let’s take this upstairs,” Leslie panted.

“Do you think you can carry me?” Jemima jokingly asked. “I’ll let you take me in the bottom if you can.”

Jemima watched Leslie pull her pants up and redo her buckle. Then she gasped as Leslie effortlessly picked her up in a bridal carry and walked up the stairs to Jemima’s front door. ‘Oops,’ she thought. ‘That backfired! Still,’ she added to the thought, ‘maybe she’ll weaken before we reach my bedroom.’

Leslie paused at the door to allow Jemima to open it and then followed her prompts to carry the gorgeous Indian woman to her (Jemima’s) bedroom. At the end of her endurance, Leslie pulled the covers back and lay her beautiful friend on the bed.

“Guess I’m getting banged in the bottom tonight,” Jemima kidded.

“You sure are,” Leslie said as she stood over her sexy friend and let her eyes gaze longingly over Jemima’s sensually curvy form.

Feeling hot and incredibly slutty, Jemima lifted and parted her knees, allowing Leslie to peer at her soaking slit. “Nice!” The bullish-looking woman smiled. “Is that for me?”

“Yes,” Jemima cooed. “Take me like the slut I am.”

Leslie pounced onto the voluptuous Indian woman, her hands grasping and squeezing the woman’s lush breasts. Annoyed at Jemima’s dress preventing her from claiming total ownership of the woman’s ripe breasts, Leslie grabbed handfuls of it at ripped. With a tearing sound, Jemima’s dress ripped apart, and her large, sexily full breasts bounced into Leslie’s view.

‘Oops, there goes $800 worth of a designer dress,’ Jemima vaguely thought as her legs unawarely spread, ready to accept the powerfully built lesbian between them.

Not satisfied with exposing her milk chocolate-coloured lover’s breasts, Leslie continued tearing until Jemima was naked, her only covering left being the black stay-up stockings with the pencil straight seams. Deciding she liked that look, Leslie ripped her trousers down, kicked off her boots and threw her jacket off her shoulders.

Leaving her black ‘Motorhead’ T-shirt on to cover her remnant boobs (Leslie had had top surgery to remove her breasts, but with her recent weight gain, fat had pooled in the tissue under her nipples, recreating her second most hated feature), Leslie eagerly, forcefully moved between Jemima’s lewdly spread thighs, positioned her ‘cock’ at the dusky-skinned woman’s spread open cunt and drove powerfully into her.

“Unghh,” Jemima grunted as her nether regions accepted Leslie’s vigorously thrusting cock inside. “Unghh,” she repeated as Leslie pulled out and rammed back in. Then, “Unghh, unghh, unghh,” as Leslie began pounding her. Jemima opened her eyes and saw Leslie’s hazel green eyes gleaming back at her. “Fuck me, Daddy Leslie,” Jemima pleaded. “Fuck your slut hard!”

Grinning delightedly, Leslie noticed how her milk chocolate-coloured lover ignored her (Leslie’s) remnant breasts and wrapped her arms around her back instead. Jemima raked her nails across and down Leslie’s back as if ... as if she (Leslie) was a man ... Leslie realised. Leslie pulled back and slammed into her lover again. Her grin spread as she felt Jemima’s knees lift and then wrap around her powerful hips. Jemima leant back, her arms leaving Leslie’s back and her fingernails digging into Leslie’s muscular forearms instead.

“Fuck me,” Jemima demanded. “Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, you big handsome Daddy. Your little girl needs to cum on your big cock!” With every ‘fuck me’, Jemima slammed her hips up at Leslie’s quickly descending hips. The sounds of a woman being vigorously fucked filled the room.

Every slam into the gorgeous woman forced the rubber stop on Leslie’s double-ended dildo to bang against Leslie’s thick, distended clitoris, sending delightful shudders through the large, powerful woman. Leslie’s clitoris closely resembled a tiny penis. At least an inch long, it grew from its standard size when Leslie had taken male steroids to build her body up. Leslie had competed with some distinction in amateur bodybuilding competitions before she realised the steroids were destroying her libido. Leslie liked to fuck, and she was good at it. However, she found that a lot of other lesbian women loved her ‘miniature cock’ and would suck on it for hours at a time if she’d let them. She hoped that Jemima would be one of those women.

Moving her hand from the mattress beside Jemima’s shoulder, Leslie grasped Jemima’s right nipple. Bending at her mid-back, Leslie slurped the turgid breast nub into her mouth and gently bit as she lashed it with her tongue. The sudden added pleasure/pain combination launched her chocolate-skinned lover into an orgasm. As if she was rewarding her lover for making her cum, Jemima stroked her nails along Leslie’s thickly muscled forearms. Leslie smiled at her, pulled all but the tip of her rubber cock out of Jemima’s slippery quim, twisted her nipple viciously, and slammed back into the quivering woman.

“Yes!” Jemima screamed as her climax peaked again. Every time Leslie slammed into her, Jemima squealed, “Yes!” and peaked again.

Eventually, Jemima’s squeals diminished, and with a satiated smile, her hands dropped from Leslie’s arms. “What do you want me to do for you?” Jem asked quietly.

Leslie pushed back until she was on her knees. Peeling her now sweaty T-shirt off, Leslie looked at Jemima, smiled and said, “Suck this.”

Jemima’s eyes dropped to Leslie’s cock, and she smiled back at the powerful woman. “Gladly,” she said, reaching for Leslie’s dick.

“Not that,” Leslie denied as she gripped her cock, and with a soft squelch, pulled it from her tight cunt. “This.” Using her hands to spread her thick, hairy bush, Leslie exposed her miniature cock to Jemima’s gaze.

“Oh, Gawd!” Jemima said lustfully, her pussy spasming and quivering at the thought of having that exquisite, tiny knob in her eager mouth.

I’m glad you approve,” Leslie stated as she fell onto her back and encouraged Jemima between her muscular thighs.

Chirping happily, Jemima quickly dove between her butch lover’s enormous thighs and surrounded her clit with her soft, pouting lips. To Jemima’s surprise, in her mouth, Leslie’s penis-like clit felt just like a tiny dick. Jemima had never before sucked one so small, but she figured the technique was the same. Closing her lips firmly around the slippery protuberance, Jemima sucked hard as she lashed it with her tongue. Leslie rewarded her with a deep moan, a hand on her head to encourage her, and an upthrust with her hips.

Jemima suppressed a grin and sucked harder and lashed faster. Far quicker than she imagined, Leslie erupted into a shattering orgasm. Thick, oily, sweet tasting secretions poured from the bullish woman’s vulva, liberally coating Jemima’s chin. Jem sucked and swirled her tongue again, but she quickly desisted when Leslie gave a pained gasp.

“Too tender,” Leslie almost whimpered. “My cock becomes really sensitive after I’ve climaxed.”

“What would you like me to do next?” Jemima asked, her pussy beginning to flood with juices as she anticipated meeting her butch lover’s needs and desires.

“You promised to sit on my face earlier,” Leslie suggested, a grin splitting her moon face.

“I sure did,” Jemima replied, a matching grin flowing onto her regally angled features. Facing towards Leslie’s hairy cunt, Jemima swung her leg over the beefy woman’s head. She wanted to be able to dive back onto her friend’s toy-sized penis if Leslie wanted her to.

Lowering her glistening pussy, Jemima settled her taut buns on Leslie’s face and sighed happily when she felt Leslie’s broad tongue probing along her pussy lips, searching for her clit. “Oh!” Jemima gasped as Leslie’s thin lips encircled her engorged love button, and her tongue stroked softly over it.

“Oh, lawd, that’s good,” Jemima moaned, her left hand unconsciously pulling her long black hair over her shoulder and fanning it across her luscious 16C breasts.

Leslie looked up, seeing only Jemima’s taut buns above her nose. She inhaled the Indian woman’s spicy and musky aroma and increased her tongue’s speed on the gorgeous woman’s clit.

Jemima, relishing the forceful attention from her butch lover—attention so much harder than a woman’s yet way softer than a man’s (a perfect compromise, Jemima believed), gripped her left nipple in her hand and squeezed before spreading her hand and massaging her whole breast. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d given herself to a butch lesbian, but she knew they’d be a constant presence in her life from now on. Well, assuming Cillian wasn’t jealous of them. She briefly wondered if Cillian would play with her simultaneously with one of these powerful women. She hoped so.

Leslie’s strong hands gripped Jemima’s toned ass and temporarily lifted her off her mouth. “You may suck my cock again, slut,” Leslie encouraged.

Smiling widely, Jemima fell forward onto Leslie’s large stomach and stretched her head out. Finding the bullish woman’s ‘girlie cock’ sticking proudly from her pudenda, Jemima sucked it back into her mouth and lashed it with her tongue. Joint moans flowed from the coupled pair.

“I want to fuck you,” Leslie stated as she turned her body to face Jemima. Jemima reached for where Leslie had carelessly tossed her double-ended ‘cock’. “Not with that,” Leslie explained as she delved under her sagging belly and pulled the flesh above her penis-like clitoris up. This forced more of her ‘cock’ to bulge from her body. “With this.”

“Oh, my!” Jemima exclaimed, eagerly rolling onto her back and spreading her gorgeously toned and shapely thighs.

Holding her clitoris exposed, Leslie crawled between Jem’s parted thighs. Then, hooking her leg over Jemima’s svelte upper thigh, Leslie lowered her cunt until her ‘cock’ pressed against Jemima’s tiny but fully swollen clitoris. Letting the skin above her ‘girlie cock’ go, Leslie balanced by grabbing hold of Jemima’s plentiful chest and began forcefully rubbing her exaggerated cock-like clit against the Indian woman’s pussy.

Jemima had tribbed or scissored with a woman many times before but never with one with a clit as enormous as Leslie’s. Leslie’s swollen ‘girlie penis’ felt just like a tiny, stiff cock sliding along her slit and over her clitoris. Leslie even paused at Jemima’s entrance and ‘fucked’ her with her ‘cock’. It was more the mental imagery of what the staunchly built lesbian woman was doing than the actual physical sensation that had Jemima’s motors running. Still, whatever it was, Jemima screamingly launched into a series of almost cataclysmic orgasms, each longer and harder than the previous. Finally, with a comically warbled screech, Jemima passed out.

Jemima woke when the morning sun’s rays poured in through the unclosed blinds and bathed her face. She was cradled in Leslie’s powerful arms, her butch lover’s broad chest pressed against her back, and Leslie’s hand cupped and gently kneaded her left breast.

“Morning, beautiful,” Leslie hummed as she gently nibbled on Jemima’s shoulder, her fingers moving onto Jemima’s nipple.

Smiling happily, her pussy starting to throb with anticipation, Jemima rolled and, ignoring hers and Leslie’s ‘morning breath’, locked her lips firmly with her butch lover. “Morning, Daddy,” Jemima cooed. “Would you like me to cook you breakfast?”

“No,” Leslie denied. “Your husband is gone for a week, right?” Jemima nodded. “So, you’re mine until next Friday morning?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Jemima agreed.

“Good,” Leslie grinned before getting out of bed and entering Jemima’s extensive walk-in robe. Selecting a bright yellow, barely opaque sundress, Leslie grabbed a pair of beige wedge-heeled sandals for Jemima to wear with it before exiting the room. Opening the top left drawer of Jem’s dresser, a drawer where, in Leslie’s experience, most women put their underwear, Leslie removed a tiny white thong barely wide enough to cover Jemima’s slit but sufficient to keep her decent if the dress flared above her hips.

“Shower, makeup, dress, and then we’re going to a sweet little café where I’m going to show off my girlfriend,” Leslie announced.

Giggling, Jemima agreed. She rolled her torn silk stockings off her long, shapely legs and casually tossed them in the bin. Then, outrageously exaggerating her hip swing, Jemima strutted past her masculine-looking girlfriend and entered her en suite. As she passed Leslie, Leslie smacked her beautifully proportioned, heart-shaped ass and growled, “Food and then back here for more sex, you voracious slut!”

Less than thirty minutes later, Jemima, whose makeup was done to emphasise her sharp, aristocratic nose and angular cheekbones understatedly, sat in Leslie’s lap, sideways across the bike. Gayle’s pink crash helmet was on her head, ruining her carefully coifed hair, and her arms were wrapped around the muscular woman’s bull neck. As she had the previous night, Jemima squealed with delight as Leslie gunned her bike and roared down the street. An exhilarating forty-minute ride later, Jemima, whose braless nipples were tenting her sundress, slid gracefully off Leslie’s lap and adjusted her sundress back to decency.

Casually groping the gorgeous, milk chocolate-coloured Indian woman’s ass, Leslie guided her inside. Pulling back and holding a seat in a position that would force all the cafe’s customers to walk past her, Leslie sat Jemima down and then crossed to her friend, Tina, who was standing at the front counter.

“Who’s the honey box?” Tina, another butch lesbian, although not as masculine looking as Leslie, asked.

“My current squeeze,” Leslie gloated, smiling back at Jemima and giving her a slight wave.

“Gawd!” Tina despairingly said as Jemima smiled and waved back. “I don’t suppose she has a lesbian sister?”

“Don’t know,” Leslie pretended to muse. “I must have forgotten to ask as I fucked her senseless last night.”

“You didn’t!” Tina gasped.

“I did!” Leslie confirmed. “When I tribbed her sweet little cunt, she orgasmed so hard that she passed out!”

“Get out of here!” Tina exclaimed. “Bitch! Okay, okay. Enough with the skiting. I take it that you’ll have your usual. What does the honey dripper want?”

“The acai berry bowl with fresh fruits, organic cereals and almond milk. Chai Latte to drink.”

“How do you know that?” Tina wonderingly asked. “Did she tell you before you got here?”

“Look at the classy dame, Tina. How many birds that beautiful eat anything resembling real food?”

“You’re right,” Tina grinned. “One trucker’s breakfast with extra bacon and a large black coffee, plus an acai bowl with a chai latte coming up.”

“How did you know?” Jemima gushed as Tina placed her bowl and latte before her.

“Just lucky,” Leslie dismissively said.

They ate happily, with Leslie faint-heartedly trying to smack Jem’s hand with the flat of her knife when Jemima snuck some of her crispy-fried bacon.

Tina brought refills for their coffee. Stopping to place them on their table, she looked disbelievingly from her masculine, bullish-looking friend to the exquisite Indian woman sitting beside her. “So, how did you two meet?” She asked, her curiosity boiling out.