Shattering the Myth

  Sex Me Down Village

  When my friends first invited me to go to the village for the weekend, I said, “Hellz, naw!” Frankly, I thought all of them were full of shit and lying their asses off. No way could such a place actually exist, but they held fast to their story, insisting it was real.

  They told me they wanted to get my mind off my recent divorce, which became final a few days before the invitation was extended. I never took them seriously until Joan, the sister I had been rooming with since Paul and I separated, showed me our plane tickets to the Caribbean.

  Even then, I figured they were pulling my leg about the village and were really taking me to some resort hotel on the beach. I told them I would go. I couldn’t turn them down once they bought my ticket and all. I packed some shorts, tees, a couple of tight dresses, and my thong bikini and told my job I wouldn’t be in that Friday or the following Monday.

  Joan and I met our other two friends, Leslie and Rhonda, at the boarding gate for the plane. I tried my best to get them to tell me where we were really going, but they all told the same old story. I had to give them mad props. At least they were consistent.

  The plane trip over was great. We were served a nice dinner and watched a great movie about two American tourists who fall in love in London. I didn’t ask any other questions on the plane. I knew the truth would have to come out once we landed and headed to our lodging.

  I wasn’t ready for the truth! The truth was they had all been dead serious from the get-go. We deboarded the plane and got onto a bus that was waiting to pick us up along with about seven other African-Americans who were on the same plane. The sign on the side of the bus was decorated with palm trees and straw huts under an island sun and read “Sex Me Down Village.”

  I told Joan, Leslie, and Rhonda they were out of their fucking minds. They all laughed and told me I would love it, and it was the bomb. I didn’t have any questions on the plane, but I had fifty million of them bad boys while the bus made its way down several long winding dirt roads to the village. I wanted to know what would happen there, had they been there before, was it safe, were we staying there the whole weekend or going someplace else the next day, etc., etc. They told me to calm down and go with the flow. Joan assured me I wouldn’t have to do anything that made me feel uncomfortable. I told them I knew that shit already. If I was not down for it, it wasn’t happening.

  When we arrived at the village, I knew straight off the bat the shit was off da hook. Nothing but a bunch of naked-ass African-Americans on the beach. Some were just chillin’, others were swimming, water skiing and riding jet skis. Most of the rest were knocking boots. Yes, knocking boots as in fucking. I couldn’t freakin’ believe my eyes.

  Everyone got off the bus. I was dead last because I was halfway afraid. I followed my friends into the lobby of the plush hotel. The place was nice as hell—it looked like a palace inside. We got checked into our individual bungalows and made plans to meet up in an hour after we all had time to grab a quick shower and settle in.

  I put on my thong bikini and sarong and met them in the lobby, where we were led to a conference room. That’s where we met our activities director, Julius, who was a straight-up, nasty-ass freak. I almost fell in love with him, though. He was right up my alley.

  While he was going over the itinerary for the weekend, I realized I could really get into the whole thing. Having married young, I never got a chance to truly explore my horizons so to speak. If there was ever a place to explore your horizons, Sex Me Down Village was it.

  We had dinner that night on the beach, and it was a trip, a cross between a Hawaiian luau and a black family reunion picnic. They had everything from pig pickings to bid whisk and spades games going. There was even a group of naked peeps playing bingo at one of the tables.

  Was I naked? Hellz, naw! My friends and I all still had our clothes on, except Rhonda. Rhonda is like that every day, though. She will let her ass hang out in the breeze twenty-four/seven if someone is willing to look at it. After the cookout, most people retreated inside to the ballroom. A few stayed outside and fucked. Those of us who were in the ballroom engaged in various planned activities. Julius was there, with his fine ass, coordinating the whole thing.

  The night consisted of several contests with gold, bronze, and silver medals going to those who won, placed, and showed. They even handed out programs for the shit! First on the agenda was the dance contest. Both men and women could participate, but there was one catch. You had to take it all off or have it all off already. Six winners were selected, three male and three female. Contestants were judged on the basis of body structure, dancing ability, and the capability of controlling their private parts. The women had to make their breasts take flight and did everything from making them bounce up and down to gyrating so they jiggled around in circles. The men had to make their dicks do the Bankhead Bounce. It was off da hook.

  Next came the beer-guzzling contest, with a twist. The women who participated had to guzzle down the beer with a dick in their mouth at the same time. As you might imagine, men were falling over each other trying to volunteer. There were eight contestants. Each one selected the man she wanted to suck off. So there they were, with a beer bottle sticking out one corner of their mouth and a dick sticking out the other. The woman who could intake the greatest amount of beer with a mouth full of dick was declared the winner. The official Sex Me Down Village photographers took snapshots the vacationers could take home as mementos.

  Other contests of the evening included the pussy-burger-eating contest, the pussy-shaving contest, and the ass-fucking contest. The ass-fucking contest was the highlight of the evening. The grand prize of a free weekend at the village went to the woman who could take the most inches of dick up her ass and the man who did the honors. My friends and I all sat there in astonishment, not even wanting to take bathroom breaks in case we missed something interesting. Even Rhonda sat her ass down, though. She’s out there, but not quite that far.

  That didn’t stop everyone except me from picking up a man that night and taking him to a bungalow to fuck him. All of us were mad horny, but I alone maintained—only because I couldn’t get a crack at Julius. He disappeared before I caught up to him. I went back to my bungalow and got my own shit off.

  The next morning, Julius was up bright and early, hosting breakfast for the fuckers. The girls were all sitting up under the men they fucked the night before, so I grabbed a seat at an empty table by a window with an oceanside view. I was sitting there, picking at a grapefruit half topped with an artificial sweetener and watching the waves crash against the shore, when fine-ass Julius approached me.

  “How come you look so lonely, baby?”

  He looked soooooo good. Tall, dark, handsome, and hung like a mutha-fuckin’ bear. I had never seen him naked, but dayum near it. I can spot a big dick, even through clothes. “I’m fine. Just a little tired after last night.”

  He sat down across from me. “Well, I’m just making sure. It’s my duty to make your vacation here as enjoyable as possible, and you’re too lovely a lady to be sitting here all alone.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.” Our eyes met, and my left leg started doing the female thing that happens when a sister gets horny. It started moving back and forth, causing a light friction on my pussy. Men are so stupid; most of them never figure out that when a woman is moving a leg from side to side while sitting down, it means she is itching for some dick.

  Julius was a native of the Caribbean and looked very exotic, with a deep bronze complexion tanned permanently from the island sun, medium brown huge eyes, and a smile that was so sexy. He had the whitest, cleanest, straightest teeth, and I just wanted to run my tongue over them.

  He and I sat there by the window, chatting and getting to know each other, for the rest of the breakfast social hour. Then he invited me to go with him on a glass-bottomed boat in the afternoon. He was taking a group of people out and wanted me to tag along and keep him company. Since it was a free day
, meaning there were no set scheduled activities for the entire village like there had been with the cookout and contests the night before, I told him I would be honored.

  Besides, my friends were doing their own thing, so it wasn’t like they would miss me. I got the feeling they were all dick-whipped, and I wouldn’t be seeing much of them for the rest of the weekend anyway. That was fine with me. I would see enough of their asses back in Detroit.

  I put on one of my skimpy sundresses and met Julius down by the shore. The boat ride was awesome—the boat ride of all boat rides. The captain described all the various sea life we were seeing through the glass bottom of the boat. It was beautiful and all the coral reefs and tropical fish were so . . . sexually arousing. In fact, the sea life was so arousing and sensual, everyone on the boat ended up butt-naked except for the captain. Yes, even I shed my clothes. I couldn’t take five more minutes of not slapping skins with Julius. He fucked me right there in the center of the boat, with my back against the cool glass bottom. It was so wild! Everyone was watching, but like a woman in a delivery room in the throes of labor, I didn’t give a flying fuck who was looking at my kitty-kat.

  We fucked in the missionary position at first, and then we changed places so I could ride his dick. It was awesome. While I was riding his dick, I could look down at all the fish surrounding his physique. He stuck one finger in my ass, and then the shit was on for real, ’cause that always turns me out.

  People started cheering us on and everything. Then most of them got busy themselves, fucking all over the glass bottom and the benches along the wall. Julius finished me off by fucking me from behind, moving a finger in and out my ass with one hand and slapping my ass with the other one. His balls were slamming up against the backside of my thighs, and when he came, he shot it all over my ass cheeks. I came all over the glass bottom of the boat. I know once we all left the boat after it docked, the captain had one hell of a time getting all the cum up. On the other hand, he was probably used to it and kept a heavy-duty mop handy.

  I rushed to find the girls and tell them what had happened. Joan was in her bungalow, getting a massage from her weekend lover, some dude from Lexington, Kentucky. Rhonda and Leslie were both deeply involved in various activities on the beach. I told them all what I did on the boat with Julius. Of course, they all called me a liar, like I did them when they first told me about the village. They refused to give credence to my story, saying they knew I would never do anything like that. Joan told me she figured I might get some dick over the weekend, but couldn’t digest the idea of me fucking in front of a bunch of people. You see, the problem was I had surpassed the freaky nature of all my friends combined, and their asses were jealous.

  Fuck it, though! I showed their asses later that night in the ballroom when I participated in just about every contest they had with Julius as my partner. He was ineligible to win any prizes, but I wouldn’t do shit with any of the other men. I won the gold medal in the dick-sucking contest, which went to the women who could make a man cum in her mouth, following it by sucking on a lemon and taking a shot of tequila, in the least amount of time.

  I won the silver in the dance contest, only because the sister who beat me out was sporting 40DDDs at the very least. The ass-fucking contest was all mine, though. I knew that from the start. I took Julius’s entire dick in and loved every second of it too. I won the free weekend, and Julius won my undying devotion to his dick.

  My girls were speechless from seeing me up there, in front of the world, doing such vile and nasty things. They had never pegged me to be a sexual diva, and truth be known, neither did I.

  I left the village with a newfound sexual freedom and a big-ass grin on my face. As the bus driver took us back to the airport to get on the plane, instead of me asking a bunch of questions, everyone was asking me how this and that felt, including some people on the bus I didn’t even know. Apparently, they’d seen me in action.

  Back in Detroit, I recovered from my divorce quickly and have been dating my ass off, doing all the things I missed out on by marrying so young. I have yet to use my voucher for the free weekend, but I fully intend to when I can make the time. When I get there, Julius better be ready, willing, and able. I’m sure he is ’bout it ’bout it. If by chance, some other hoochie is trying to claim him, I’ll just have to push the bitch to the curb.

  Dream Merchant

  “Love is the mutual gratification of the body and the mind!” but—

  —lying here on the couch while this man sucks on my clit like a pit bull with lockjaw, I am not too sure about all that.

  There are times when I love what I do to make ends meet, and then there are times, such as this one, when I would rather be scrubbing floors and cleaning toilets. I’m sorry though. I was just never cut out to work a nine-to-five, so I do what I gotta do.

  To make a long, drawn-out story short, I’m a dream merchant. Most people say “call girl,” but I think dream merchant sounds more professional. I mean, what I do isn’t sleazy. It’s not like I stand on da corner flagging down cars in thigh-high patent leather boots and daisy dukes. Hell, naw, this sister has class. In fact, I have more class than most of the women whose husbands and boyfriends I’m boning.

  They come see me when the little uppity misses start fronting on the dick, taking shortcuts and shit because they’re under the false impression their man is pussy-whipped and wrapped around their little finger. Chile, please! They need to get real!

  Conventional sex is all right, but straight-up nasty, raunchy fucking is where it’s at, and most women can’t deal with the notion. They think their man will view them as a slut if they do certain things or wonder why they know so much about fucking. It’s true that men are the cause of a lot of it. They want the women they marry and settle down with to be virginal and innocent, yet they want a beast in the bedroom. Men don’t want to ingest the fact their woman has been with several other men before them, so they make her feel like she better cover up the real sexual goddess within herself. Then they turn around and seek out a freaky-deaky sister like me to do the things for them their woman won’t.

  Personally, I wish all my sisters could be as uninhibited and as sexually free as I am. They’re missing out on so much pleasure. On the other hand, if all women were like me, there would be no demand for my services, so it all pans out. I don’t play either, because I always get the benjamins.

  In fact, I went to a nightclub once with a girlfriend, and this brother was all up in my face, staring at my tits, darting his eyes back and forth between them like they were a hypnotist’s pendulum. I grabbed him by the chin, redirected his eyes to my face, and said, “Read my lips. You want to look at me? That’s two drinks!” Guess what? He hooked my girl and me up with drinks for the rest of the night. All I had to do was suck him off real quick in the men’s room. While most women would turn their nose up at that, a little dick in the mouth ain’t never hurt no one. Dicks are cleaner than mouths, anyway. Read a medical book.

  I’ve read plenty of books, and I’m a certified sexologist, an expert in carnal knowledge, so to speak. My clients love me, and their women hate me but subconsciously wanna be just like me. It’s truly a shame I have to pick up the slack for the sisters, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles. I know what evil lurks in male minds, and I use it to bring them pleasure. In return, they please me by dishing out the cash. I give them their dreams, and they give me mine. Like I said, I’m a dream merchant.

  Take Burton, for example. He prides himself on being a happily married man, and for the most part he is. He’s been married for eight years and has three children. His wife stays at home and keeps it clean and cozy. She wipes the snot off the kids’ noses and all of that. She really loves him, and he adores her, but . . . she can’t fuck AT ALL!

  That’s where I come in. I fuck him just the way he likes it. I do it all, from head to toe, from front to back, ’cause I got it like that. He pays me $300 a visit, one to two times a week. If you think that sounds steep,
fuck you! I work hard for the money. Some people spend their money on crack addiction, and others spend it on pussy addiction. Same difference.

  Burton likes several kinky things his wife won’t do or let him do. He loves to toss my salad, and I love to have it tossed, with Italian dressing at that. Fat-free dressing, though, since Burton could stand to lose a few inches around the middle. I love the way he has me lie on my stomach and then props some pillows under my stomach so my ass will protrude up in the air. He always starts at the bottom and goes up. It’s his favorite routine, I guess. Kind of like the way women get used to wiping from front to back with toilet paper. Anyway, I didn’t mean to get off track.

  He pours the dressing down the crack of my ass, takes his fingers and rubs the oily substance all over my round ass cheeks, and takes the tip of his tongue and licks it off one cheek at a time. He gives my whole ass a tongue bath, and then he starts working on the crack. He licks it from bottom to top and then works his way back down to the center until he finds, oh my, how many licks does it take to get to the middle of an anus pop?

  Let me say this. The man has mad skillz. Skillz on top of mutha-fucking skillz. He’s so good at eating ass, they need to name him the Grand Dragon of the Ass-Eating Knights of America. Dayum, my ass is starting to pulsate right now just thinking about it.

  Burton also likes to suck toes. He told me he tried to suck his wife’s toes once, and she thought it was disgusting. See, that’s why she’s in the position she’s in now; having a husband come home to her with my ass on his breath. Don’t frown up at that, because just like all women, my shit don’t stank. I love to have my toes sucked. It tickles. Especially when he soaks my feet and then gives me a foot massage first. Then he sucks on each toe and takes his time. Drawing the whole thing into his mouth, suckling on it, and then slowly pulling it out. Dayum, Burton and his oral fixation turn my ass on.