“So, Mrs. Mitchell, did you want to take a look at the house again, or do you have any questions, or just tell me what’s on your mind.” He chuckled.
If I told this man that his golden rod was on my mind, he’d probably fall out of his chair, or maybe not.
“Well, we both love the house but my husband thinks that it’s overpriced. I would just like to get a second tour, if you don’t mind showing me again.”
“Certainly, not a problem, Mrs. Mitchell; we could definitely do that.”
“Please, feel free to call me Monica.”
“Okay, Monica, and you can call me Alexis.”
We started off on our journey touring the house again. All of the rooms had hardwood flooring except for the bedrooms; there was plush carpet in each one of those. The windows were thirteen feet tall. There were also some really nice pieces of furniture left behind from the last owners, who’d decided not to take it with them when they left. There were no complaints on our end, though; we could find somewhere to use it.
Our last stop on the house tour was the master bedroom. This room was beautiful. It had a double-sided fireplace, a chandelier, and even a pole! Once you stepped out onto the balcony, there was a beautiful view of the lake that ran behind the upscale subdivision. There was nothing at all that I would change about this house, I loved it, but right now Alexis was the prime piece of property I wanted to acquire.
The sexual tension had been building up throughout the tour. My pussy had been pounding like I’d been locked in a department store bathroom after hours, trying to get the security guard’s attention. I could only imagine what was going on in his pants.
“And here is the final room, the master bedroom. Do you have any questions?”
“Yes, I have one.”
Oh shit, just say it, girl, before you get too nervous and make a complete fool of yourself.
I continued, “Alexis, are you craving me right now as much as my body is craving you?”
Without saying a word, Alexis took maybe two steps toward me and kissed me on the lips. Our kisses grew harder and harder, filled with passion. His strong hands were rubbing the small of my back and when he pulled me closer to him I could feel the bulge in his pants. That sent my body into ecstasy overload. Not long after, he pulled my dress down and started sucking on my breasts while pushing them together, as if he could fit them both in his mouth at the same time. My moans grew louder the harder he sucked on my breasts. So I started unbuttoning his shirt and unbuckled his pants because I needed him inside me.
He wasted no time, and told me to get on all fours. I did as I was told and I just knew he was about to please me from behind with his golden rod, but that wasn’t the case. On his back, he slid under my black panther like he was a mechanic at the body shop, and working on my pussy was his job. He gripped my thighs as his warm, thick tongue began to trace the folds of my pussy, causing my body to become weak.
Shit, this was something new to my body because Richard had never tasted the black panther before. He never performed oral sex on me and would never let me perform on him. He thought it was disgusting, and it fucked me up because I was trying to figure out what day and age he was living in, to where a man didn’t practice oral sex! I still married his ass, though; the sex game was still good.
Mr. Milk Chocolate must have loved giving oral pleasure because he stayed beneath me longer than I thought he would for a woman he’d just met. But like I said, I wasn’t just any woman, I was a bad bitch. By this time my jowls were starting to clench because I couldn’t wait any longer to taste him.
I told him, “Let’s trade places.”
At this point, his pants and boxer briefs were fully removed, and the golden globe sprang out of his pants as if it was about to yell out, “Surprise!” I gave it a look of desire and then I licked his shiny head before engulfing more of him into my mouth. I got my mouth really wet with my warm saliva and took all of him that I could fit inside until the eye of his head searched the back of my throat. I caressed his balls with my hands while I was pleasing him with my mouth.
“Damn, baby, you feel so damn good,” he moaned while grabbing hold of my fluffy ponytail.
I took a quick leave from his magic stick. “Well, if you liked that, then you’ll love this.”
I took the Pop Rocks from my purse that I had left over from one of the kids’ events I’d put on last week, placed them on my tongue, and started back on the job.
“Oh, shit!” he yelled, while his body jerked.
“Some people want it all, but I don’t want nothing at all, if it ain’t you, baby . . .”
My Alicia Keys ringtone alerted us that my husband was trying to contact me, but I couldn’t stop right now, because I was doing us both a favor. I was working on this man’s dick like it had been bitten by a poisonous snake and I was trying to save his life by sucking out the venom.
After I finished pleasing him with my warm, inviting mouth, it was time to feel him inside me. He took a condom out of his taupe-colored slacks, laid me on my back, and proceeded to please me. That first thrust was unbelievable and it made my body melt. He slowly slid his piece out, just leaving the head in, and once again, another forceful, yet gentle thrust followed. At this point, I could feel my nectar flowing out of me and drizzling between the crease of my ass, while glazing his dick at the same time. He was passionately sucking on my neck and full breasts while pushing inside me. And I was holding onto his firm ass as he was driving deeper and deeper into my warm, wet insides.
Alexis then took my legs and placed each one over his shoulders so that he could explore deeper. He felt so damn good, I was starting to think, Could this be a onetime affair? I really don’t know. He still wasn’t done with my ass; he took me over to the bathroom counter, sat me in between the his and hers sinks, and once again he glided his dick, glistening with my juices on it, in and out of me. First with slow, long strokes, and then with fast, hard pumps, and before you know it Alexis gave me my first orgasm. But I was nowhere near ready to stop and by the look in his eyes, neither was he.
We then moved to the living area of the master bedroom. He bent me over the arm of the sofa, which was one piece of the furniture that was left behind, and he entered me again. This time there were no slow strokes, only fast and hard just the way I wanted it. I wasn’t looking to make love to this man, I just wanted to fuck him. So I accepted all of his forcefulness and worked my ass back on him, moving my hips in circular motions so that I could feel his dick in every inch of my pussy. He licked his thumb and placed it right over my anus and rubbed it vigorously. And not long after, I was cumming again, but he still hadn’t gotten his nut from me so now it was time for me to return the favor.
Once I got what I needed from Mr. Milk Chocolate, I guided him to the seat of the lavender-colored sofa, straddled his magic stick backward, and sat down on top of it slowly until every inch of him was inside me. Up and down I went while he kissed my back and squeezed my C-cup breasts. Our moans grew louder and louder. We both were excited from the gyrating moves I was giving out, and we climaxed together.
On my twenty-minute ride home from the dream house, I called my husband back but he didn’t pick up. So I returned Lisa’s phone call and filled her in on what I’d just done and how I had already “christened” the house with Mr. Milk Chocolate. She didn’t judge me but told me to promise that I wouldn’t do it again, because she knew I wasn’t that type of woman. I promised her I wouldn’t because I felt like I had gotten my revenge, so I was good. And we said our good-byes.
“Some people want it all, but I don’t want nothing at all, if it ain’t you, baby . . .”
“Hey, baby, I tried calling you back but I couldn’t reach you,” I said.
“I know. Monica, you’re not going to believe this, but Mr. Johnson called me back and told me that they were willing to come down on the price of the house. So, baby, that house is going to be ours in a couple of days!”
We both screamed and yelled because it was our dr
eam home. A few days later, we met with Mr. Johnson to seal the deal. We put our signatures on all the needed paperwork. He shook our hands and said, “Congratulations, enjoy your new home,” and handed us the keys and paperwork with a beautiful smile.
Richard and I kissed and he hugged me so tight that he lifted me off the ground a few inches. On the way out of the signing, Mr. Johnson walked us out of the office and congratulated us again. My husband told him, “Thanks again, but we got to get out of here to go christen our new home,” while looking at me passionately.
I don’t know why he’s thanking Mr. Johnson; he should be thanking my pussy!
I turned back to Alexis, smiled, and said, “Yes, thank you, Mr. Johnson.”
I gave him a wink and he winked back.
On the Eve of Tomorrow
Ran Walker
Grant Darby could barely hear the light knocking at the front door, and had the apartment still been full of boxes and furniture, he might not have heard it at all. He was surprised by how quickly he could move through an empty apartment. Except for the day he’d moved in, he had never seen the place this bare. The power would be turned off the next day, probably shortly after he left the apartment for the last time, headed to Virginia for grad school. Still, he had chosen to stay there one last night, although his roommate had gone home to Knoxville earlier that week. Only one person knew he was still in Atlanta—and she was at the front door right now.
He opened the door casually, as if he had not been waiting for her the last hour.
“Come on in,” he offered, needlessly, as she walked into the dark apartment. Only the streetlights outside glinting through the blinds gave any kind of lighting to the front room.
“No power?” Kamara said, a slight chuckle in her voice.
“It’s on until tomorrow.”
“I see. So this is for me, then?”
He smiled and took her hand, guiding her down the hall into the master bedroom in the back of the apartment. The blinds were parted, angled downward so that they could look out, but no one could look in.
“They never did fix your front door,” Kamara said.
“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” he responded. He had reported the hole in the outer part of his door when he moved into the apartment complex, and the front office had assured him it would be fixed. They never came to fix it, though. At first Grant had started to go down and raise hell, especially since he was the only one in the building paying full price for his rent, but the hole didn’t go all the way through the door and since none of his company seemed to complain about it, he let the issue go. In fact, as time went on, the hole became part of the apartment’s character, a reminder that he had slummed it his last year in college before heading on to Virginia.
“Want anything to drink?” he offered.
“Do you have anything to drink in here?”
“Some bottled water left over from when I loaded up the truck.”
“Sure, then.”
As he walked back toward the front of the apartment to the kitchen, he marveled at the fact that Kamara had even come. She was not his girlfriend and would probably never be, now that he was leaving Atlanta. He had run into her the previous day while combing the bookstore for college and Greek paraphernalia to take with him. They had had three classes together over the past two years and had always been cordial, but it wasn’t until they pledged and became fraternity brother and sorority sister that they began to talk more regularly. Even then, he had suppressed his attraction to her because there was already so much hooking up going on between the frats and sorors. Still, he considered her a good friend and had even had her over several times throughout the year, just to hang out and play Xbox with his friends.
As he stood at the refrigerator door, he was thankful that she had not left him hanging. At least now he would have someone he could talk to so that he wasn’t stuck with only the silence of an empty apartment to keep him company. All of his other friends had already headed out of town, either for the summer break or just to move on to the next thing.
Cracking the refrigerator door, Grant noticed that there was only one bottle of water on the bare shelf. He removed it and carried it back to Kamara.
“You weren’t thirsty?” she asked.
“There was just one bottle.”
“You want some of this one?”
“I’m good.”
“You sure? I don’t have cooties, you know,” she said, turning the bottle sideways in her hand and swiveling it like a bottle of juice.
“Have you noticed that when guys shake bottles, they do it like this,” he said, lifting and lowering his hand in a line just in front of his crotch. “But when women shake a bottle, they twist it like you just did.”
“Really?” she responded. “I have my theories about that.”
“Hey, don’t knock my only hobby.”
They both laughed, and he might have been embarrassed being so mannish with her, except for the fact that sex wasn’t foreign to their conversations. At various points they had had conversations about nearly everything under the sun, sex included. He had just never made a move. Now that he was spending his last night in Atlanta and she had come over to keep him company, the thought crossed his mind that there might be more to their situation after all.
“I guess I should have kept some chairs or something,” he said. “You don’t mind sitting on the floor, do you?”
She shrugged and took a seat on the carpet, her legs crossed, positioning herself directly across from him.
“Got any music to listen to?” she asked between swallows of water.
“Just what’s on my phone.”
Grant pulled his phone from his pocket and began scrolling through his playlists.
“Hey, remember this?” he said, turning up the volume on his phone and tilting the speaker upward for her to hear.
“Oh, shit!” Kamara said, jumping to her feet. She began nodding her head up and down to the beat. “We used to set it out to this track!”
Grant stood up, holding the phone up. “Go ’head, ’Mara. Do it up for all the treys of the world.”
As Nicki Minaj’s “Moment 4 Life” filled the empty room, Kamara flashed her sorority sign and started performing the party stroll that her chapter had designed for the song. Grant nodded his head to the beat as he admired the way her body moved. Seeing her rocking her hips in sync with the song made him smile. He had always thought she was cute, but seeing her now, in motion, and with such focus, made her much more than cute; she was sexy.
As the song ended, she reached for the bottle of water and finished it off.
“I love watching you move,” he said, before realizing how loaded his statement must have sounded.
She took her seat on the floor again, screwing the cap back on the empty bottle and setting it in front of her. “Thanks.”
Grant sat down across from her and reached for the bottle. Without thought, he began to spin it in a circle. Kamara laughed.
“What?” he asked.
“Reminds me of that game.”
“Oh,” he said, continuing to spin the clear, hollow bottle. “You must have had your first kiss playing Spin the Bottle.”
“No way. I played that game one time, but there were just too many ugly boys there for me. I was so glad it never landed on me. This one time it came close, like between me and this other girl, and we argued for like ten minutes over who the bottle had landed on. Finally, ol’ girl just said, ‘fuck it,’ and kissed that boy. Couldn’t have been me,” she said, laughing. “You ever play?”
“Nope,” he said. “I used to hear about other people playing it. That and ‘Sleepers’ and all those sixth-grade games.”
“You’ve never been slept?” she asked, incredulous.
“I haven’t been anything-ed,” he said, lifting the bottle from the floor and flipping it in his hand repeatedly.
“I feel like it’s my duty to make sure you experience something before you move away a
nd start your life in the ‘real world,’ ” she said, placing air quotes around the last two words.
Looking at the bottle, Grant imagined what it would be like to kiss Kamara. “I have an idea.”
Kamara nodded. “I’m all ears.”
He could feel his stomach begin to tense. If she was down, this would be a wonderful experience, but if she wasn’t, then she’d probably leave or steer the rest of the evening’s conversation into such platonic territory that he might as well just unroll the sleeping bag now and get an early start on the next day.
“We can take this bottle and spin it,” he said.
“Yeah. That’s an original idea,” Kamara offered, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
“No. Here’s the catch: If the bottle lands closer to me, you can tell me where you’d like me to kiss you, and if the bottle lands closer to you, I’ll tell you where I’d like you to kiss me.”
The fact that they had never kissed before seemed like an irrelevant point to Grant. He waited nervously, watching her consider his proposition. The fact that she did not flat-out say, “No,” made him even more nervous.
“Who spins first?” she finally responded.
Grant smiled and sat back down across from Kamara. He handed her the bottle. “You go first.”
She looked at him, a semi-smile resting on her lips, and lowered the bottle to the carpet, spinning it around with a quick flick of her wrist. The bottle spun in a circle very quickly before slowing down and angling just to his right side.
“Okay,” she said. “I want you to kiss me here.” She pointed at a spot toward the back side of her neck.
Grant rose to his knees and leaned toward her. As she turned her head away from him to better expose her neck, he placed his mouth against her soft skin, his tongue dancing in tender swirls along the length of her neck. He listened for a moan—or anything—but Kamara sat silently, allowing him to finish his kiss, before turning her attention back to the bottle. “Your turn,” she said.
Still savoring the taste of her skin, he leaned over and spun the bottle. Again, it landed just to his right.