Caramel Flava

by Zane

  He starts unbuttoning my coat and slides it off, letting it slump wetly on the floor. My suit jacket lands on the couch.

  He lets me kiss his wide cheekbones and smiling lips as he busies himself with my blouse. I rip out the last three buttons and sigh when he pulls it off. The air is cool, but my bones feel warm for the first time in weeks.

  “No bra? I thought you were in court today. Good Lord, woman.” I’m tugging at his curls, trying to pull him into the darkening nipples.

  He runs his tongue along my belly, leaving a damp line just under my navel. Kneeling in front of me, he smoothes his hands up under my wool skirt. I kick my shoes behind me. My knees almost buckle when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of the panty hose and pulls. The skirt follows quickly. He pauses and I look down.

  “When did you get a red thong?”

  “It’s laundry day.”

  “Damn. Let’s see. Goddamn.”

  I close my eyes when he moves behind me. He fits one hand over my pubic bone and pushes my ass into his face, sinking his teeth into the cool mounds and lapping hungrily. His other hand is spread flat against my belly. When my pussy swells I move from side to side so that the lips can kiss each other. His hair tickles the small of my back. I shift my hips, tilting my silk-covered cunt toward his snaking tongue, panting “ah, ah” to the dark ceiling.

  He stands and I turn, winding my arms around him, lifting one leg to circle his waist. I run my tongue from his collar to just behind his ear, warming his neck. His hands reach to my ass and he pulls the cheeks apart slowly, listening to the wet labia separate.

  “There’s plenty of time, Rosa.” He covers my mouth again in a long, clinging kiss. “Mmm, that’s just how your cunt kisses me back.”

  I don’t see his hand moving up and I squeal when he pinches my nipples. He moves to grab my shoulder blades before I can step back. I laugh but his eyes are distracted. He takes several short breaths before he speaks.

  “Rosa, I want you to let me use you like I did before. I couldn’t think of anything else while I was away.”

  My breath catches. So that’s the question.

  Neither of us meant to go quite that far the night before he left, but the need exploded in us the instant his hand closed over my wrist. I’ve melted each time I’ve remembered being bound, bent over his desk, his right hand forcing my neck into the polished wood while his left hand held my vibrator. I came the way I’d always needed to, filling the house with long, braying screams like a woman giving birth.

  “Okay, yes, yes.” I look down. This compulsion is absurdly strong.

  “Take off your panties and come into the bathroom,” he begins, standing abruptly and walking in first.

  I follow more slowly as he turns on the light. He already has a pair of handcuffs dangling over the shower curtain rod. I let out a snort. He turns to me and tells me a safe word. I toss my panties at his chest.

  “Face the tub and put your wrists into those handcuffs.” He leans back against the opposite wall. I pause when I see his expressionless eyes.

  “In the bathroom?” I shove a nervous, simian smile toward him and he lets it go unacknowledged. I turn away quickly, reaching for the cold metal. It clicks benignly around my wrists. I don’t quite believe the cuffs will hold until I start to pull on them. Tal is silent behind me.

  “Um, okay—” I say after a few moments. I start to twist my head, looking for him.

  The first slap, more on my hip than my ass, knocks me to the side. The cuffs cut into my wrists as I hang, feet splayed beneath me. The second slap burns, the third stings.

  “Don’t speak. Don’t turn around.” Tal’s mouth is at my right ear, but his voice seems to come from every corner of the room. My nipples are tight, straining into the empty air.

  I have struggled to my feet. “Ow,” I say pointedly.

  He fits his left arm around the front of my pelvis and lifts me backward, off my feet, spreading his legs to take the weight. He hits my ass with his right hand, swinging the weight of his back into five blows. Shock keeps me from yelling at first. Setting me down, he massages the shaking flesh gently, using both hands. It’s unbearably hot and I feel bruises forming.

  He has never spoken so gently to me. “I have a few large, uncomfortable gags I could use on you, Rosa. They’ll stretch your mouth, they’ll press on your whole tongue, most likely make you salivate over your chin. The ties will get tangled in your hair. I’d rather see you control yourself. Can you do that?”

  I lick my lips when I can catch my breath. I watch the goose bumps rise along my arms.

  “Good.” He kisses the back of my neck.

  I hear the scarf before I feel it. It’s one of mine, wide red silk, filtering the light as it slides down my face. Tal fits it snug over my eyes.

  I hear him move in front of me. A scraping in the tub, then his breath coming from down below. He’s moved my stool into the tub. For the first time panic rises sharply, stopping just at the top of my throat.

  “I have the gag ready, sweetheart, and several other things to hurt you with,” Tal whispers. Something cold and hard probes rudely at my anus, then leaves. He grips my pelvis in both hands, tilting it forward.

  The water is running. A warm cloth is on my belly.

  I moan as softly as I can when his delicate hands are on my cunt. He lathers briefly and I feel one of my small razors working the hair off the mound. He shaves toward the center, then tells me to put my right foot up on the side of the tub.

  He spreads the outer labia and lets one of his fingers stray just close enough to be sucked in. I gasp and rock toward him, my body ready to break into a rhythm. My cunt coats his finger and he stops once the scent begins to fill the space between us.

  “Don’t move, Rosa, I’m serious.”

  I feel a cold length of metal, flat against me. I freeze and bear down hard on my terrified stomach.

  “The old-fashioned razor is the only way to get a close shave up in here.” He tickles me and I clench my teeth.

  “You know the safe word. But then we’d only be half-finished.”

  Just moments later he tells me to switch legs. My thighs are trembling now. I press my left foot hard into the cold porcelain. He finishes with a few efficient swipes, then sponges away the soap.

  A long silence follows. The air tickles strangely.

  I feel him whisper something just over my clit. His mouth closes slowly over the naked, slick labia. His kiss is thorough. I move in circles, trying to press my impatient clit against him. My inner lips swell toward him, as if begging for his tongue. He stops. I hear him swallow.

  “Tal, fuck me.” He must be ready to finish this game.

  In answer, he stands slowly. He slides one hand under my hair, soft and firm, holding me still as his other hand lands on my cheek. My eyes sting. I hear him leave.

  When he returns, he takes the blindfold off, sliding the knot tenderly from my hair. He is holding a key, and he unfastens the right cuff just long enough to turn me around. My wrist clicks back into place. His face is satiny with sweat. He is still dressed. His eyes are dazed and grateful.

  He kisses my cheek. “I want to take you out, Rosa.”

  My blue silk dress is hanging on the back of the bathroom door. His rucksack is on the floor, some of the contents spilling out. I see the gags and he laughs softly.

  “Oh, she’s mad. You thought I was kidding?” He kisses my mouth and runs his tongue over my neck. He whispers into my hair, “I love you. Are you all right, really?”

  “Tal, it’s time to fuck me. We are not really going out.”

  He kneels and pulls something from the bottom of the rucksack. A tiny, plastic, powder blue butterfly, maybe one inch in diameter. Black straps hang from it.

  “Hold on.” He lifts my feet out from under me and slips the straps round them. I hiss when the cuffs cut into me. When I can stand again, I realize he is fitting the straps over my hips like a harness. I twist to look past his head.

&n
bsp; The butterfly rests lightly over my mad, raging clit. The fat labia seem ready to swallow it. It looks ludicrously innocent. I can feel that I’m blushing hard.

  “You know what the best part is?” Tal’s narrow eyes are on mine.

  “It matches my dress?”

  His hand moves in his pocket and the butterfly jumps to life. It hovers, buzzing greedily as if I were a deep, thick-petaled flower. The vibrations spread through my labia to my ass. My cunt is furious and I pull at the shower rod. Plaster shakes loose at the bolts and settles to the floor. Tal looks ready to eat me.

  “Tal, Tal.” My voice sounds small and tight. “It’s not enough. Tal.”

  “Pace yourself.”

  “Motherfucker.” I am moving my legs together, then apart, grinding my hips in changing circles, until I see him crouch down to watch more closely.

  “That sounds like a hurt word. I’m afraid it’s quiet time again. But if you really want a gag, keep talking. I have this red one. It basically holds your jaws apart.”

  He opens my cabinet and finds some makeup. He grabs a fistful of hair at the base of my skull while he wipes the sweat off my forehead.

  “You look fine as you are. You don’t need any blush. I want to add some lipstick, though.” He leans into my swinging breasts, still gripping my hair.

  He murmurs like someone drunk with love as he licks the top of each breast. He can manage only two or three words between kisses. “You can either have them rouged or I’ll make you wear bells on them, in public, until midnight at least.” He takes the lipstick and smoothes my black nipples into long, sticky, crimson peaks. I want to cry but even that release won’t come.

  When he turns the butterfly to low, I can breathe again, but it still takes all my concentration to keep my hips still. I watch the long, smooth curve of his cheekbones as he reaches over my head. His throat is a little swollen.

  “We’ve been meaning to go dancing for so long,” Tal purrs, unlocking my wrists and massaging my arms briskly. He slips the dress over my head and helps me into my shoes.

  He holds my head gently now, questions fluttering over his lashes again. I lean forward and bite his pink lower lip. When I pull back, his eyes are pure limpid bliss.

  Señor Frog’s is always crowded on Friday nights. The club is a tiny neon box, tucked under the freeway overpass. Salsa rhythms beat through its thin walls. Crowds huddle against the wind, hurrying over the black ice that gleams multicolored throughout the parking lot.

  Inside, the chairs and tables have all been pushed to the corners. The dance floor, the lobby, the dark hallway to the kitchen, every inch is thick with dancers. The crowds clear reverently for the best couples. A haze of smoke and perfumed steam hangs just under the low ceiling.

  I’m brought straight back to my cunt when the butterfly jumps again. My cry isn’t heard over the music, but I turn to Tal’s eyes, hard as ebony. I try to move away but we are pushed hip to hip. We’ve eased into a slow merengue, his hand resting on the small of my back. Our bellies touch, his shirt buttons flick over my nipples. In my mind, I undress him quickly, suck him into hardness, and impale myself on him several times, here on the uneven floor. I doubt many would notice.

  Before I can speak, he tugs at my hair and kisses my ear. “Dance with everyone who asks you.”

  He’s gone. The butterfly is on low and I clasp my hands together tight, looking down.

  Soon I’m asked to dance. A tall, quiet man tries to lead me in country dances I never learned. I do my best to follow, watching his feet, almost forgetting the relentless little sting of pleasure. I look up to find his eyes transfixed on my vivid nipples. I can’t keep them from pushing out farther. Just before the music finishes, the butterfly is turned to high and I have to stop moving, clutching my hands over my mouth. Two desperate moans escape. My partner stops, alarmed, asking if he’s stepped on me, most likely thinking I’m about to throw up. I do what I can to assure him and thank him, panting, moving away into the crowd. I can’t find Tal.

  But he must see me because the torment ebbs as soon as another man asks me to dance.

  A portly, quiet-eyed professor touches my back tensely as if I were a silk-covered bomb. He ignores the music and moves me in a slow, thorough orbit across the floor. He cries out at the end of the song when my fingernails sink into his wrist. I leave without looking at him.

  A Haitian man, dreadlocks flying, twirls me on every fourth beat. The room spins in front of my eyes, changing direction as his dark hands nudge my shoulder or pull my wrist. Our stomachs meet as a new phrase starts, his teeth flash at me as he laughs. He is irrepressible, radiant as a bride. I press my forehead into his at the end of the song, watching his full lips as he begins to speak. They look soft. Tal turns me up and I pull away.

  A young student asks me to dance. I wait for him to look up at my face before I say yes. His drenched silk shirt is nearly sliding off his smooth chest. He carefully strokes my neck as we settle into our rhythm and I smile, imagining it’s step five in some article he’s memorized: Ten Moves Chicks Dig.

  He turns me and I see Tal, watching. Girls surround him like fireflies.

  I reach Tal before he can move his hand to his pocket. He grabs my wrist but it’s I who lead him to the women’s bathroom.

  Two elegant grandmas are sashaying out just as we arrive. One winks at me. I slam Tal against the far wall, harder than I meant to, then turn back to the door.

  The ladies are still there.

  “We’re not well.” I lock the door.

  I turn back to a pile of clothes. Tal has undressed and is sitting on the counter, gleaming under the vanity lights. His skin is flushed and velvety like rose petals. His cock swings up, vein-covered. Stretched to its capacity, hard as an ingot of pure gold, shimmering like fresh honey. His knuckles are white as he braces himself on the counter.

  I reach him in three steps.

  My hair falls over his belly and clings to the wet skin. The sweet head of his cock nearly chokes me. I stretch my lips over him, tickling his balls, running my tongue over the crinkled, pulsing flesh. My jaws ache but I would do anything to coax that choked falsetto cry from him.

  He’s begging me now and I jump to stand on the counter, one foot on either side of his waist. I lower myself into a squat, letting him nuzzle into the slick folds.

  There’s a knock at the door. I slap Tal’s face when he looks over.

  “Focus. It looks like you’ll need to work a little.”

  I start to come as soon as his fingers sink into my shoulders. I am bent over so quickly that the breath is knocked out of me. His fits his hand over my skull and presses my cheek into the countertop. He throws my dress over my back.

  I try to reach back toward him, hands curling.

  “Rosa, tell me it’s okay…”

  “Jesus, Tal, you have to do it.”

  He slides in as soon as I begin to speak, and the last word stretches into an unhinged wail. He has time for only one slow rotation of his hips, caressing the wet, aching inner walls. The little butterfly cracks when I grind it into the Formica. As he starts to thrust, I push my hands into the mirror so that I can writhe against him, the pleasure flashing from the base of my spine and spreading throughout my body. For a long moment I’m half-dead, stretched tight and still except for my cunt opening and closing on him like a sea anemone.

  He releases my head and rests heavily on me when he comes, sobbing “fuck, fuck” with his last thrusts. Stars are circling brilliant in front of my eyes, white and gold and violet.

  Five minutes later, the icy midnight sucks the air out of our lungs. We steal through the back parking lot, clinging to each other under our coats. The music fades into the wind behind us.

  Closet Freak

  Secretos dentro el armario

  Pat Tucker

  The sensation of my flesh being stretched so wide it tears was overwhelming. My breathing quickened and I gasped for air, but I still gyrated my pelvic area and rocked my hips. I spread
my legs wider; my muscles tightened and gripped him, pulling him in deeper. Humid warmth blanketed the room. Although it was nearly stifling, a sense of electricity hung in the air. Smacking sounds and heavy breathing filled the musky room.

  “Oh, yes, Papi! Yes! Right there!”

  “You like? You like?”

  “SSssss, ooooooh yesss!”

  I dug my nails into his muscular back, then I felt it. A little ripple that flowed from the very tips of my toes, shot through my veins and up my legs. Ripples turned to warm and flowing waves tingling up my thighs. I exhaled, shut my eyes tightly and clung to the feeling. Sweet pleasure danced back and forth with each stroke, almost teasingly as he slowly pulled out, then mounted tremendously as he pumped in.

  I dug my nails deeper into his back, at first guiding, then all but shoving him into my wet bottomless hole.

  “OHMIGOD! You hittin’my spot!” I screamed.

  “Where?” He pumped. “Right there?”

  “Oh shit yes! Yeesss! Fuck me—please fuck me! Yes! I’m uh, I’m cumming, Papi…Oh shit…”

  My insides tingled, my heartbeat increased and my breath was caught in my throat. The waves crashed, sending electricity from muscle to muscle, vessel to vessel through my veins and shooting up to my brain. I felt my scalp searing and my eyes began to water. My nipples stiffened as spasms rushed through my entire body. Shock waves flooded my clit; my walls tightened, released, then throbbed. I felt him jerk, and I tightened my walls, determined to drain him.

  “Ugh,” he moaned.

  I held on.

  “Ugh.” He grabbed my hair.

  When he exploded, even though he was deep inside me, I felt an intense burning sensation. It had me teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain; satisfaction was within reach.

  “Oh God! That was good,” he mumbled.

  “You dirty bitch!”

  My head snapped toward the voice. My heart nearly came through my chest. Juan tumbled off me. His body made a thudding sound as he hit the floor. My eyes widened in horror as I scrambled to cover myself.