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Danita & Sasha: Famished

By Patricia Marie

Despite the misleadingly saccharine poison that Sasha had, maybe not so unwittingly, invited onto her palate, she couldn’t ignore the taste that still lingered. 

But Danita would be home soon, so Sasha made a point of straightening up the beige throw pillows on the couch. She knew her wife hated to come home to a messy house, even if it was just a stray pillow here or a coaster out of place there. 

Sasha flipped on the TV and sat on the couch, trying to look natural. Her mind started to drift off to earlier that day and she didn’t realize what channel she had stopped the TV at. She quickly changed it because she knew it would be suspicious if Danita came home to see her watching The Real Housewives of Atlanta. Her partner always teased her that she was probably the only Black woman in America that, not only had never seen a full episode but, refused to watch it. 

Meanwhile, Danita loved her trashy TV. As a corporate attorney, no one would ever suspect that her favorite show was Love & Hip-Hop. But Danita wasn’t ashamed of it. She said reality TV helped her unwind from the stress of her job. Sasha thought it was cute. In the beginning, it was Danita’s unexpected idiosyncrasies that had made Sasha fall in love with her.

Sasha sighed and wondered when their relationship, once filled with unexpected surprises, became dull and mundane. She supposed that the more you got to know a person, the intrigue slowly slipped away and things that used to be captivating now leave a bitter aftertaste. But Sasha refused to believe that it was only mystery and excitement that made them the perfect couple at one point, seven years ago, when their love had served as something like provision for Sasha. She tried to come up with something else, anything else, that would make her remember the zest she felt when she decided to spend the rest of her life with Danita. Instead, all she could feel was a deep hunger that sat in the pit of her stomach.

The door opened and Danita walked in, “Hey, baby.”

Sasha got up and gave her wife a somewhat detached hug and a kiss, “Hey, sweetie. How was your day?”

Danita pushed a stray honey-blonde dreadlock behind her ear. Sasha thought she must have had a long day because her hair was rarely out of place like it was now. 

“It was OK. The other partners insisted that I take the new associate under my wing, clearly because I’m the only other Black woman in the firm. And that’s cool or whatever but it’s so time-consuming to hold someone’s hand while I’m busy trying to prove myself in my own new position.”

“Aww… That sounds really frustrating. I hope the new girl catches on quickly so you can go back to doing what you do best.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot. Anyway, how was your day?”

Sasha never knew how to answer that question because she was aware her wife was just being polite when she asked it. They both knew that when Sasha wasn’t substitute teaching, her days were filled with experimenting with new recipes, one of her manufactured new hobbies, and trying to finish her novel. Her novel. That was the real joke. 

Three years ago, Sasha had published a bestseller and for the past two years she had been competing with herself, and her fear of failure, to write another one. Unfortunately, she started and stopped so many times that she barely had 50 pages. She had begun substitute teaching to give her life some purpose but the teaching gigs never lasted for more than a week. On top of that, they didn’t have any children so Sasha spent a lot of alone time trying to figure out what her next move was. Danita thought she must enjoy being stuck in this cycle and Sasha knew her wife felt this way. So, the “How was your day,” question sometimes felt a bit patronizing.

“It was OK… I went to yoga and then cleaned up a bit and cooked. You know, the usual.”

“Uh huh. Well, I’m gonna go shower and stuff. What did you make for dinner?”

“I made honey-garlic wings. Sabrina gave me a new recipe. It’s pretty good, I had some earlier.” 

Danita headed upstairs to their bedroom where Sasha knew she would be for at least an hour. Danita liked to wind down and luxuriate alone after work and, although it sometimes left her feeling attention-starved, Sasha was accustomed to it by now. It was actually a blessing today because now she had more time to nourish her senses with thoughts of earlier that afternoon.


Several hours earlier, Sasha stood halfway stretching, halfway drying off her forehead with her towel after yoga. One of the men from class walked over to her and Sasha tried to stifle her annoyance. The guy had been eyeing her the entire 45-minute session. But he was kind of cute. Cocoa brown skin, broad shoulders, and dimples – not the kind of guy you would think practiced yoga but he was surprisingly quite flexible and balanced. Nevertheless, Sasha rehearsed her polite rejection in her head.

“Hey, I’m Caleb. I couldn’t help but notice you during class. Sorry if I was staring but you resemble my wife so much – you could be a long-lost cousin or something.”

Now, Sasha had not heard this one before. She knew she looked damn good in her grey and pink matching yoga pants and bra top and being a yogi these past two years had done wonders for her body, especially her ass and tummy. But that was no reason for this dude to come at her with a “you look like my wife” line. At the same time, if he was trying to pick her up, why mention a wife at all? Men are so strange, Sasha thought.

“Umm… Thank you? I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sasha smiled and started to walk away. Just as she turned around, a gorgeous woman who looked uncannily like an Afro-Latina version of herself was walking towards them.

“There she goes right now,” the dude said. “Hey baby, come meet… What was your name, again?”

“Well, I didn’t give it to you but it’s Sasha,” she said. Her eyes were still trained on the beautiful woman. Her hair was the same honey-blonde as Danita’s but in a short, tapered cut with springy curls. The woman’s body was so tight, adorned in biker shorts, a loose white tank with a red sports bra underneath. Sasha thought she must be a personal trainer because there was no other good reason for her to have a body like that. Her breasts sat up like they knew they were the main course and her hips a mouth-watering side dish. The rest of her body was so toned that Sasha had no idea how her ass still managed to have the kind of volume that only a woman with a healthy appetite for soul food could have.

Sasha picked her eyes back up to the woman’s face and tried not to stare in awe but it was truly like looking into a mirror. She reached out to take the woman’s hand and introduced herself to the person she actually wanted to know her name. Mr. Hot Cocoa faded into the background. 

“Hi, I’m Sasha Clarke. Your husband was just telling me that we resemble each other. Now that I’ve met you, I see how much of a compliment that is.”

The woman smiled and blushed a little, “Don’t mind Caleb, he is the social butterfly out of the two of us. He can find an excuse to talk to any and everyone. Anyway, I’m Maribelle and I’ve gotta say, if my husband thinks I look like you, I must be exquisite.”

It was Sasha’s turn to blush – Exquisite? This couple really had their way with words. “The pleasure is mine,” Sasha said, still holding Maribelle’s hand. She had given it a firm squeeze at first but was now holding it gently, not really wanting to let go.

Caleb interrupted the two women’s mutual, yet silent, admiration of each other and said, “We were just about to grab lunch at the new vegan spot on 5th. I don’t want to impose on your day but do you want to join us?”

Sasha thought it was pretty random for this stranger to invite her to lunch but she really didn’t have any other plans for the rest of the day and she had never had vegan food before. Maybe it would be interesting. They seemed nice enough and they were married so what could the harm be? 

Just as she was weighing her options, Maribelle chimed in, “Yes, that’s a great idea! Let me just go grab my stuff.” She jogged off towards the locker room before Sasha could respond.

Realizing that Maribelle had all but made the decision for her, Sasha thought, I guess I’m having vegan for lunch.

Five minutes later, Sasha was following behind the couple in her car. She wondered if this was a situation where she was supposed to check in with her wife. They didn’t have a relationship where they gave each other their itineraries down to the minute but because Sasha’s days never really went off course like this, it seemed different. She shrugged the feeling off as her stomach growled. Well, she at least hoped the food was good.

They settled down into a booth in the restaurant, Maribelle sliding in next to Sasha, and they began looking over the menus. Sasha had no idea what to get, it all sounded surprisingly good but you could never be too sure.

“So, what would you two recommend? I’ve never had vegan food before.”

Maribelle clasped her hands together in delight. “Oooh a newbie! You’ve gotta try a little of everything,” she said giggling.

Caleb laughed and shook his head. “You love dragging people into your culinary adventures. What if she doesn’t want to try everything?”

Maribelle looked at Sasha and placed her hand gently on her thigh under the table, “Trust me, she does… And she will love all of it.”

Sasha grew warm at the beautiful woman’s touch. For some inexplicable reason, she got lost in her eyes and said, without hesitation, “Try me, I’m down for anything.”

For the next hour, the trio had lots of playful conversation and banter while Sasha tried all of Maribelle’s recommendations. Maribelle was right, everything was delicious. She seemed to get more and more excited as Sasha tasted the food and gave her approval. 

When Maribelle reached out to feed her savory morsels of some of the dishes, Sasha opened her mouth willingly and made a point to appreciate every tantalizing bite with audible enthusiasm to let her guide know she was pleased. Maribelle showed her own pleasure by tenderly touching Sasha, stimulating both of their senses. Caleb seemed to be getting a kick out of the whole thing and clearly enjoyed watching his wife amuse herself with Sasha.

They finally finished their food and all the laughter and gratifying cuisine had Sasha feeling a bit intoxicated, even though they hadn’t even had a drink. Caleb and Maribelle were such a charming couple and they clearly loved to live life to the fullest. After hearing so many of their funny stories Sasha felt like she had known them for years. She couldn’t remember when she had had such a good time.

Maribelle took the last sip of her water and turned to look at Sasha. “This was so much fun. We live a few blocks from here, do you want to come over for dessert? I made this chocolate mousse that’s to die for. You’ve gotta try it.”

Sasha knew that she should say no but the way Maribelle looked at her with her expressive, lash-fringed eyes put her at ease. Well, maybe not 100% at ease but she definitely didn’t want to leave the presence of this passionate woman just yet. The nagging feeling came back, what if they were murderers or kidnappers? But then her curiosity took over, what if they weren’t?

“OK. But just for a few, I have some errands to run before my wife gets home from work,” she lied. Sasha made a mental note to make sure she texted her best friend, Sabrina, the couple’s address, just in case. 


Sometime later, three plates of what was left of the decadent-as-promised chocolate mousse topped with strawberries had been abandoned on the pristine granite countertop in Caleb and Maribelle’s kitchen. A bottle of red wine sat unopened in the midst of three unused wine glasses. A crimson red sports bra dangled limply on the back of a chair and moans of pleasure drifted out of the living room with their high and low notes hanging in the air like an exotic perfume.

Sasha lay on the couple’s living room couch with a look of pure ecstasy on her face while Maribelle was agilely positioned in between her legs, devouring her like it was her last meal. Caleb stood behind Maribelle palming her sumptuous, round ass in his hands while he pressed into her with increasing intensity. But Maribelle didn’t let his thrusts slow down her gluttony for Sasha. Sasha’s nectar dripped into Maribelle’s mouth and acted as an aphrodisiac. 

When Caleb slid into the depths of Maribelle, over and over again, she felt her body release in a jolt of fireworks and she paused her feast and allowed her screams to join Sasha’s voracious moans. Sasha wanted more. Maribelle sensed Sasha’s desire and quickly recovered from the delicious convulsions that had temporarily taken her over. She thrust two fingers into Sasha’s slick, wet pussy and moved in and out of her with such fervor that Caleb had to pause and simply enjoy the sight of his wife become satiated by knowing she was responsible for the other woman’s intoxication. 

Maribelle, feeling ravenous again, leaned up to temper her oral fixation by kissing Sasha and forcing her to swallow her sounds of pleasure. Just like her pussy, Sasha’s luscious lips were a delicacy. The woman’s entire body had become Maribelle’s own personal banquet. 

Caleb stood by admiring Maribelle’s uncanny ability to spot what she wanted a taste of from afar and how she managed to get exactly what she wished for and more. She was like a goddess, always hungry for sweet ambrosia and he was her servant. 

Earlier at the gym was no different. The moment his wife laid eyes on Sasha, she knew she had to have her just as Caleb knew he would do any and everything to satisfy her appetite. Neither of them had any idea that he was wholly inconsequential to the mission, as Sasha craved women as much as Maribelle did. Caleb shook his head and smiled to himself as he watched the women get lost in a euphoria that was as delectable as strangers sharing chocolate and red wine on a cool fall afternoon.


Somewhere across town: 

“Mrs. Clarke, are you sure you don’t need me to stay late and help you finish up?” the young associate asked as she pulled her pencil skirt up over her thick thighs and tiny waist. She adjusted her ripened breasts, trying to force them back into hiding beneath her blouse so that when she walked out of the office, they wouldn’t give away what had now become her daily indulgence.

Danita tried to pin her stray, honey-blonde locks back into a bun, still relishing the woman’s juices like syrup on her lips. She had been greedy that afternoon, savoring her lover for much longer than she intended to. “No, Krystal, that will be all.” 


Patricia Marie is a writer, an editor, and the founder of culture & lifestyle blog, The Glam Femme. In addition to writing queer, POC-focused contemporary fiction, Patricia enjoys creating erotic short stories that subvert cultural norms and thoughtfully promote diverse experiences and authentic voices.

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