by Angela Black
Julia was the definition of a southern belle, fair in complexion with tumbling red locks and generous curve to her hips. Could this have been what Derek was attracted to? Or was this what she was attracted to?
Their guests were escorted in to the living room, where Cynthia already had the first round of hors d'oeuvres ready. Derek retreated to the kitchen, nudged Cynthia to go out there and greet the guests, and grabbed four glasses.
“It would seem my wife’s a little shy, as well,” said Derek with a pop of the cork. “Why don’t we spend some time getting to know each other? Perhaps it would ease us into things.”
The group each took a glass of merlot and raised it to the sky. Tonight they would allow their inhibitions to roam free. Tonight they would discover the true meaning of sharing the things you love.
Chapter Two
Swingers Squared
Angela Black
Our Home Is Your Home
“There’s no way!” Steve protested. “You can’t honestly tell me you think it’s going to happen!”
“I’m telling you, man,” replied Derek calmly. “Atlanta’s going all the way this year.”
“You’re telling me the Braves?” Steven scoffed at the notion. “Chicago has a better chance of winning the World Series!”
In an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, Cynthia has tried to find common interests. That quickly brought the topic to sports, something the men were more than happy to become swept up in.
They argued and teased one another, as if they were long time friends, out for a nice dinner with one another’s wives. The sexuality had been drained from the room. Cynthia could see all parties forgoing the pleasures of the flesh and spending a night in heated discussion.
She might’ve been shy, but Cynthia wasn’t going to allow her fantasy escape from grasp so easily. She fought for Derek, now she was going to fight for this.
“Is it just me,” Cynthia said, turning to Julia, “or does all this talk of sports kill the mood?”
Julia nodded her head in agreement. “If I wanted to listen to someone talk about baseball all night, I’d have stayed at home with Steve.”
“Would you like a tour of the house?” Cynthia asked.
Julia stood up and held out her hand. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Unbeknownst to the men, the women exited the living room and proceeded to tour the house. Not that it mattered to either of the men, both them pleasantly surprised at how well they were getting along.
“I hate to interrupt,” Cynthia said from atop the stairs, “but we ladies are going to walk the house. Maybe by the time we return, the football talk will be out of your systems.”
“It’s not football talk, honey,” said Derek politely. “The season’s over. We’re talking baseball.”
A judgmental groan could be heard from the second floor. Derek couldn’t hold back his laughter, and erupted in animated merriment. “I’ll be paying for that one when you two leave.”
Things settled down and the two men found themselves at a loss for words. The situation had sunk in and they remembered that within the next hour, they’d be cock deep in each other’s wives.
“So,” Steve said with a slight pause, “are you involved in any fantasy leagues.”
Derek breathed a sigh of relief and took a large swig of his drink. “I could talk about that for hours! Yeah, I’ve got all the major sports covered, except soccer.”
“Naturally,” Steve agreed.
The men talked quarterbacks, guards, and forwards. They discussed lines and optimal formations—anything to keep the conversation away from each other’s wife and their many erogenous zones. They weren’t interested in helping the other please their spouse. While neither wanted to admit it, they felt thrust into a game from which they needed to be victorious, or see their relationship come apart. It might not have been the truth, but it was something neither one of them could deny. For as much as they could see themselves as friends, tonight, they were competitors.
“Hey,” said Derek, looking around the first floor. “Do you know what’s taking our wives so long?”
Chapter Three
Swingers Squared
Angela Black
A Game for Two
“I feel so naughty,” Cynthia said with a giggle. “The boys don’t know what they’re missing.”
“Oh,” Julia crooned as she curled her scarlet hair around her finger, “I don’t think they’d ever understand the connection two women can have, nor should they. The boys will have their fun later, but for now, the girls get to have theirs.”
They laid together on Cynthia’s bed, removed of all their clothing and gazes locked upon one another. It didn’t take long before their tour turned into a sexy little romp. All it needed was a catalyst.
Julia provided her with one as she pushed Cynthia up against the wall and began to ravish her body with exploring fingers. They quickly ran to the bedroom and tore off all their clothes. They laid there on the bed, naked and confused, but all too eager to see where these emotions would take them.
“Have you ever done this before?” Cynthia asked.
“Not once.”
“But you seem so good at it,” she said, unwillingly to believe the woman that had so forcefully taken her could’ve never done that before. “I… I’ve always thought about it, but never did I imagine being able to go for it.”
“Neither did I,” said Julia, “then I walked into your home. From the moment I saw you peek out from behind the cupboards, I knew you were the one I wanted tonight. I just had to feel your touch.”
Cynthia took the southern belle by the hand and placed it upon her breast. “Then touch me. Take me now.”
Julia’s finger lingered on her breast for a moment, before trickling down her flat stomach. She was making her way towards her nether regions, taking her time to extend the coming pleasure. They moved closer and closer, and by the time Julia’s fingers reached her wet pussy, the two embraced and shared a passionate kiss.
Cynthia couldn’t remember the last time someone’s lips had tasted quite so sweet, so tender, and wholly invigorating. She wanted it to last forever, so she placed her hands on Julia’s generous rump to keep her in place.
“I want to taste you,” said Julia, biting her lip playfully after their lips had separated. “I want to know you inside and out.”
Cynthia purred in delight and wiggled her hips in anticipation. She’d dreamt of this moment, late at night, hands deep inside her and engorging her subconscious thought.
“Lick me, taste me, and fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”
Cynthia cried out for more. Her back arched, her toes curled, and her tongue lashed out of her mouth. Her body was exploding with new sensations, ones she never imagined being able to feel. She never wanted anything so bad in her life.
“You taste so sweet,” Julia said as she removed her lips from around Cynthia’s dripping wet pussy. “I could eat you all night.”
“Then please do.”
“What about the men?” Julia asked. “Won’t they be wondering we went?”
“Who?”
“The guys,” she answered.
“What guys?”
“Our guys,” Julia said with a giggle as she continued to stimulate the quickly climaxing Cynthia. “The lug head’s we started with.”
“Oh, those guys,” said Cynthia, barely able to concentrate on anything other than the orgasm that was mere moments away. “I… I… I… Oh… what guys were you talking about again?”
“These guys.”
Derek and Steve had both entered the room a short while ago, drawn by their curiosity of the strange noises emanating from the master bedroom. They stood there, not judging, but accepting of the arrangement the two women had been caught in.
Cynthia wasn’t ashamed of herself. She felt liberated, as if a weight had been lifted off her chest. This wasn’t something to be afraid of. It was something to embrace—something for them to all share together.
“Come on over and join us,” Cynthia said with a curled finger. “We’re just getting started.”
The End
Chapter One
Angels Do It Better
Angela Black
A Vagrant’s Dream
The rain poured down on the city of New York. For most of the city’s population, the rain had only lasted a few hours. For others, the few hidden from society, the rain had lasted all season.
“You want to share?” asked one of the grizzled men hanging around near Louis. “I’m all out.”
Louis clutched onto the bottle beside him and pulled his soaked blanket over his head. “You’re always out, Ricardo, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a dirt bag like you have some of my hooch.”
The two homeless men laughed together while they shared the bottle between them. It was nothing more than cheap bathtub gin, but to them it tasted like the finest wine, the nectar of the gods.
They were closest of friends, brought together by a cruel twist of fate, and still struggling to keep one another from falling too far from reach. They drank, they smoked, and they wallowed in their own self pity. Yet, things could’ve been much worse and both of them knew it. At least they had each other.
Louis and Ricardo would soon come to learn that they both had been stationed in the same camp in Vietnam. They probably crossed paths a few times. They even had the same hard-edged commander.
They drank, passed weed and cigarettes between them, and shared old war stories. The same stories, the only ones they still remembered. The whole world had moved on without them, but together, they remained able to keep that small piece of history intact.
“So I said to the commander,” continued Ricardo, much to his own amusement, “I don’t care what you tell me about those Viet Cong… none of them ever did nothin’ to me!”
Ricardo looked to his friend for a sign of approval, but only received an ashen face and blank stare. “Hey, are you all right? You don’t look so good.”
Louis didn’t feel very well, either. The story had opened old wounds and the grisly ex-marine was having a flashback to his time in Hell. He was out there, right now, firing alongside his comrades upon wave after wave of enemy forces.
They had been pinned down for a week straight, in the middle of contested territory, and forced to drink their own bodily fluids to keep hydrated. It was the worst week of Louis’ life. It was the time that would continue to haunt him for the rest of his days.
He had to watch while his friends were maimed or killed, and their bodies left in the brush to rot. It’s what led him to become dishonorably discharged from the military, but in his mind, that hadn’t happened yet. All he knew right now was pain and sadness. Grief would come much later.
Jumping up from his cardboard sanctuary, Louis made every attempt to slow the coming Viet Cong, but it was no use. They were long gone, much like his sanity.
‘Hey, Ricardo,” said Louis with nudge to the ribs, “do you have any of that hooch left?”
His friend made no move to reveal the liquor. He was passed out and drooling on his ragged old trench coat. Louis could see the bottle wrapped around his arms, licked clean, and useless to the dejected old war veteran.
“Thanks,” Louis said with a grumble as he sunk into his blankets and tried to sleep his worries away. “You’re my best friend, Ricardo. Too bad that ain’t saying a damn thing.”
Chapter Two
Angels Do It Better
Angela Black
A Helping Hand
Louis drifted in and out of consciousness. It was his routine. He was never allowed a full night’s sleep, for the nightmares would be waiting for him. Awful dreams of death, poverty, and the atrocities he committed in his country’s name.
Click. Click. Click.
At first, the sound of heel’s clicking sent him to a time when he visited a brothel in Da Nang. When he realized his living conditions were much worse than that war-torn country, reality once again set in and he remembered his place in society.
The clicking echoed through the drench alleyway. Louis looked around frantically to see if his friend was still asleep. He was gone. There wasn’t a thing in the alleyway that once belonged to him. Even the bottle of spirits had been placed back into his hand.
Had it all been a dream? Ricardo hadn’t been much of a friend, but when someone has nothing, even one such as him could brighten an otherwise dreary day. Louis had imagined things before, but never an entire life. Had he finally slipped into madness, or had he been there all along?
“What’s happening to me?” Louis cried with his hands cupped over his face. “I didn’t ask for any of this…”
“No,” said a woman’s voice, “but you deserve it, none the less.”
Louis removed his hands and looked up to the shadowed woman in front of him. She kneeled down and into the light. Louis was taken aback for a moment, the sight of the woman bringing him back to a particular chapter in his history. Da Nang, right before everything fell apart.
“Cara?” he asked. “Is it really you?”
He could almost see her, sitting in her chair like she always did, drinking her tea. She would be waiting for him with open arms, ready to ease him of his burdens with a touch only she could provide.
“I’m not the hooker you so affectionately think of,” the woman said. “My name’s Cistina and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Yeah,” he said gruffly, “I’m sure it is.”
His heart sank when he realized that Cara was halfway around the world and likely to have forgotten him completely. This woman, however, was equally as stunning. What could she have wanted with him?
Cistina was a dark-skinned beauty with shapely lines and a contoured body that was wrapped up tightly in a business suit and matching short skirt. Her raven-black hair glistened under the single lamp, shooting down to her breasts, heaved up and popping out of her constricting shirt.
“As you can see,” Louis said, waving his arms around, “I’ve got no money for your time.”
“My time doesn’t cost anything for you, soldier,” said Cistina. “Though, I could really go for a smoke right about now.”
Louis grumbled under his breath, but figured that granting Cistina her wish might get her to leave him alone, so he grabbed at one and shoved it towards her. “You’ve got what you wanted. Now leave me alone.”
Cistina, still kneeled and staring into his eyes, lit the cigarette and took a long, overdue drag. Her head titled backwards and, with pursed lips, she breathed the smoke towards the heavens above.
“You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve last had one of these,” Cistina said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Yeah,” he growled, “and you don’t know how long it’s been since I cared.”
Cistina could feel the animosity raging within the vagabond. His wounds were both visible and submerged, festering deep within him until he couldn’t even bare the look of himself in a reflection.
“Tell me about your problems,” she said.
Louis couldn’t help but laugh in the woman’s face. “Where do I start?”
Cistina reached out with her fingers and stroked Louis’ face. She pushed past the grubby beard to the soft, unsoiled skin beneath it.
“Don’t worry,” Cistina said with her hands still pressed to his face. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
He didn’t know what was happening to him. He didn’t know who this gorgeous young woman was. All he knew was that his eyes were getting heavy.
Chapter Three
Angels Do It Better
Angela Black
Yearning for Freedom
When Louis awoke, he was far from the alleyways he once called home. Where he was couldn’t be answered, as there were no distinctive markings anywhere around him. There was an endless sea of white and nothing else.
Cistina was there, removed of all her clothing and writhing atop his body, back arched and chest heaved toward
s him.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“Nowhere,” Cistina replied, “and yet, we are everywhere.”
She spoke in riddles. Louis had no idea what she was speaking of, but as he titled his head to stare into the vast nothingness of white, he couldn’t exactly argue her point.
“Who are you?” He grabbed onto her rear and tried to forcefully remove Cistina. “Why are you doing this?”
Cistina removed his hands with a simple flick of her wrist and sank down deeper atop his throbbing manhood. “Who I am isn’t important. Why I’m doing this isn’t important. What is important is that you enjoy this moment, for it shall be your last.”
Her words should’ve sent a chill down his spine, but his head was already spinning in a euphoric high. Reason was the first thought to flee from him. The next was anger.
He was everywhere. He was nowhere. He was happy here. All that seemed to matter now was being there with her. Louis wrapped his hands around Cistina’s waist and rolled her onto the transparent flooring.
Clearly she enjoyed the motions as she squealed in delight as he shifted around inside her. “I want you to fuck me like the dirty girl I am.”
Louis was eager to oblige and he grabbed onto her hips and drove himself in deeper. His motions sped up with ferocity and then, without warning, would slow into a more sensual pace.
“I want it hard,” she said. “I want it rough.”
Louis gave it to her as requested and barreled in with all the strength afforded to him. He felt like a new man, a young man, one capable of moving mountains for his ethereal lover.
“Faster!”
He gave it to her faster, more powerful, and just the way she asked for it. He could feel her nails dug in deep and carving the flesh from his back. The pain only added fuel to his fire and he pressed up his hard cock up against the inner walls of her pussy.
