by Zane
When he told his mother that he and Ebony had ended it, his mother cried for days. Despite her complaints, she knew that Ebony was one of the few people who even bothered to deal with her. Ebony came to see her every week, even in the face of her constant abuses. His mother even suggested couples counseling, anything to get them back together, but he assured her that it was over, for good.
As he stood outside the bathroom door, Miguel knew he had had a little too much to drink and was probably being irrational by watching Ebony so closely. He shook his head and sighed. He was about to leave when he saw Alex making his way up the stairs. He knew Alex was past the point of mere arousal and was looking to Ebony for release. He and Alex were friends but he knew how Alex was with women. He wined and dined them, used them up, threw them away, then moved on to the next. The thought that he was going to do that to Ebony pissed Miguel off. So, he gave up his position next to the bathroom door, descended the stairs, and cut Alex off at the landing.
“¿Qué pasa, Miguelito?” Alex smiled a little tipsily, with sweat still beading on his forehead. “Tengo que ir al baño.”
“Yeah, well this one is out of order—you’ll need to use the one downstairs,” Miguel said, maintaining his sentry.
“Oh,” Alex replied, not moving. “So is there another bathroom?”
“Sure, you know, the one downstairs by the coat closet.”
“Yeah, right.” Alex smiled, trying to keep the edge out of his voice as his eyes drifted up toward the room where Ebony had disappeared. He took a step forward, but again was cut off by Miguel taking a side step. Alex’s brow furrowed, but instead of arguing, he stepped back, throwing one last glance at the bathroom door, then turned and headed back downstairs. Miguel watched as he left, then exhaled deeply. He climbed the stairs toward the bathroom. Knowing the door would be open, he turned the knob and slipped inside.
Ebony was sitting on the closed toilet lid. The halter top of her red dress was bunched around her waist as she sat waiting for Alex. When Miguel stepped inside and closed the door, she tried to hide her large grapefruit-sized breasts, embarrassed.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, Bonni?” Miguel asked sharply, “Why are you doing this shit in my house? And on my birthday?!”
“I—I’m sorry, Mickey,” she stammered, gathering her purse while trying to hold the dress over her breasts. “I wasn’t thinking, okay? I’m sorry.”
“So you finally did it.” Miguel smirked, moving to block her path to the door.
“What?” she asked warily.
“You got your breasts done. Did Alex convince you to do it?”
Ebony looked even more uncomfortable. Her short bangs began to stick to her forehead, more from nervousness than from the heat.
“Alex has nothing to do with my breasts. It’s my body. I do what I like,” she jeered as she tried to push past him to the door.
“Why did you go so big?” he asked, already hard from the moment he saw her sitting there, breasts exposed, waiting for the attentions of her new lover.
“That’s none of your business, Mickey.”
“Maybe you’re the one doing the porn flicks, huh?” He laughed.
“Why do you even care? You’ve got your new girl; she’s right downstairs. Bother her. Leave me alone,” she said as she squeezed by him and grabbed for the doorknob.
“Wait,” Miguel protested, grabbing her around the waist. “You get the shits done for Alex and won’t even let me take a look, huh? Is that how it is now?”
Miguel pressed his hardened love stick against Ebony’s derriere and felt her body quiver. It seemed natural and right as he rubbed against her, his hands on her stomach, his tongue tickling her neck and earlobes. He shifted her body to face the mirror and she let the halter top drop.
“Damn!” Miguel whispered in her ear as he viewed the reflection of her large milk-chocolate breasts in the mirror. “They’re beautiful,” he murmured as he traced her dark areolas with his fingertips, then fondled and caressed her dark nipples into hard peaks. She moaned out loud, despite her obvious attempt to remain silent as he slipped his hand between her open thighs and tickled the creamy wet spot in her panties. She pressed back against him, opening her legs wider, giving him the access he wanted. He moved the warm, slick material to the side and began to slowly strum her clit.
“Please, don’t. Don’t Mickey…” She pleaded as she instinctively began to grind her ass against his hardened cock while he paid homage to her pussy.
He groaned in her ear between kisses to her neck and shoulders. “Yesss, yes, ay, Mami, that’s it. You know what I like.”
Ebony’s back stiffened as she pulled away, hissing, “You didn’t think I knew three months ago. Then, Kelly knew what you liked. I was just in the way.”
But Miguel was quick and grabbed her by the waist again, not allowing even an inch of space to open up between them.
“C’mon, don’t be mad, baby,” he crooned in her ear, as his hands slid downward to grip her hips. “I made a mistake. You know I love you, don’t you, Bonni?” he asked as he held her body close to him, moving gently from side to side. “It’s fucking torture to see you with Alex. I can’t stand to see another man touch you. You know that.” He murmured in her ear as his hands slid forward, caressing her stomach.
“You know this is how it’s supposed to be,” he said as he raised the hem of her dress and slid his hand into her panties before slipping a finger inside her.
Miguel stood swaying in time with his “ex,” dancing a slow rhythm with her pussy. His finger entered her, retreating then circling her clit, repeating the cycle again and again until her legs became weak, all the while whispering and moaning, “Te quiero, Mami. Sabes que te quiero.”
She relinquished control to Miguel, letting her body rest against him. In the mirror, their eyes locked, but only for a moment before her brown eyes fluttered closed. There. He had seen it…only a fleeting glance, but it was there…Ebony seeing him as the man he used to be…a thoughtful and tender lover, not the man who told her that he wasn’t in love with her, or the man who let her walk away without so much as a good-bye. That cruel, insensitive man was Kelly’s lover. Remorse for what he had done to Ebony began to surface, but he suppressed it and held her tighter.
“You believe me, don’t you, Bonni? It’s just you and me…like it used to be, solamente nosotros, mi corazón,” he said as he massaged her mound until his fingers were coated with her honey.
“Don’t do this to me, Mickey. You know you don’t mean it,” she pleaded.
“You know I could never love anyone the way I love you, Bonni. Te juro que sí. Dime que sí sabes que es la verdad,” he whispered, softly kissing her face and neck.
Ebony turned and threw her arms around him and held him tight, almost as if her life depended on never letting go. She slipped her hands inside the smooth silk of his shirt and ran her fingers down his well-defined abdominals toward the waistband of his pants. She dropped to her knees as his shirt fell from his shoulders and rested her forehead against the thick rod jutting from his groin, then her fingers quickly unbuckled and unzipped him. Miguel slowly licked her cream from his fingers, taking his time, anticipating the moment when she would caress and pleasure him.
Clear, thick fluid dripped over her fingers as she gripped the base of his cock and began to squeeze and stroke him. “Ahhh, sí, Mami,” he moaned, moving his hips in time with her hand’s up and down motion.
“Mmmm, you’re gonna make me cum, Bonni,” he groaned.
“That’s the idea,” she cooed seductively.
“Yeah, but not here,” he said, abruptly grasping her hand.
Miguel opened the door, pulled Ebony to her feet and led her into the adjoining bedroom.
When they reached the center of the room, Miguel stepped out of his pants and briefs, then reclined on the bed, his stiff cock stretching skyward like a glistening, caramel missile. He turned onto his side and watched hungrily as Ebony walked around to the midd
le of the floor in front of him. Her hips gyrated an intimate seduction in time with the music that wafted in from outside. Ebony had never been in the business but she danced like a stripper. He had always taken her little private shows for granted until he realized that most men’s women weren’t quite that talented. With Kelly as his new woman, he had joined the ranks of most men.
“Slow,” Mickey panted, squeezing his erection anxiously. Ebony slowed her routine, exaggerating every movement. She rolled her hips and displayed the chocolate brown orbs of her ass bending forward in a motion so sinuous and deliberate that it drove him wild. When she leaned toward him, hugging her smooth breasts, her nipples just barely brushing his lips, he was certain he would pop. Every lick of her lips, the sultry look in her eyes, brought him closer to the edge and easily suppressed any guilt he originally felt for making off with the woman his best friend brought to the party. He was justified in his mind. He rationalized that Alex would only use her, while he really loved Ebony and needed to be with her.
“Venga, come here, baby,” he said, stretching his hand toward her. “Let Papi look at you.”
Ebony hesitantly moved onto the edge of the bed.
“Come on.” He grinned and gently pulled at her arm, coaxing her to lie beside him on her back. He didn’t touch her right away. He looked at her. It really did seem so natural to have her there. His eyes were again drawn to her breasts, which were even lovelier as she lay there. He carefully straddled her hips and she giggled as he leaned over and slowly suckled on her nipples, licking the smooth skin of her breasts and the medallions of her areolas. He watched the amusement on her face as he touched, fondled, marveled, ooohed, and ahhhed over her breasts.
“You really are such a big titty-baby, aren’t you, Mickey?” She grinned.
“I dunno,” he answered, laughing. “They’re just so perfect.”
“You’re silly.” She laughed along with him.
“And you’re beautiful.” He smiled, then lowered himself downward until their lips met in a deep, soft, wet kiss. He slipped his fingers inside the waistband of her panties and tugged them down past her knees as he continued to make love to her mouth.
“I’ve missed you.” She sighed as she kicked off her panties and spread her thighs wide to greet him. She was swollen and open, her pink treasure glistening in the dim light.
“Dame una prueba. I’m gonna have a taste of this.” He smiled as he softly tweaked her clit, making her whimper the way he knew she would. He moved down her body, kissing every inch of her chocolate skin until he slipped his tongue inside her molten cream pot. She gasped and moaned, moving her hips up to his hungry mouth as he spent what seemed like a sweet eternity lapping at her clit and tasting her, expertly plunging two fingers inside her warm, slick canal and stroking her sensitive spot.
“Please, Mickey, I need to feel you.”
“No entiendo lo que estás diciendo, Mami.” He smiled mischievously.
“Oh please,” she whined. “I mean…Por favor, Papi, dame su pene lindo.”
He laughed and raised her thighs and ass high off the bed and placed the thick head of his cock at the opening that he had for so long felt he owned. They gasped in unison when he made the first deep stroke.
“Awww shit, Mami, that’s so damn good!” he groaned.
“Don’t stop,” she urged while her fingers trailed upward against the sensitive skin of his rib cage. Then he started that hard driving rhythm he knew she loved. “That’s it, Papi.” She sighed. “Do me like you used to. Take your pussy.”
Miguel was beyond ready to explode as Ebony rolled her hips, squeezing and massaging his dick until he could hold out no longer.
“Oh, God damn!” He bellowed as he slammed into her erratically, his back arched and rigid as he pumped his seed into her while she cried out, “Oh, make me cum, baby! That’s it, baby, make me cum! Make your pussy cum!”
Five more strokes and they were both spent. Miguel flopped down beside her, with sweat still beading on his body. He rolled in next to her, pulling her body into his, saying, “I want you to move back home, Bonni. You’ll do that, right?”
Ebony hesitated a moment before she answered, “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea right now.”
“That’s all right. I know it’s going to take some time. All I’m asking is that you consider it. Give me a chance.”
“It’s your birthday, Mickey. You’ve been drinking. You feel this way tonight, but what about tomorrow?”
“I know how I feel. I’m only asking you to have faith in me.”
Miguel tenderly squeezed her thighs and stroked her breasts, then after a moment, asked matter-of-factly, “If you don’t mind telling me, you know, as a little something for my birthday?”
“Depends on what it is.” Ebony yawned as she nestled into his arms.
“Well, not that it matters,” Miguel asked, “but is the baby you’re having mine or Alex’s?”
Ebony was quiet, her body rising up and down with slow, measured breaths.
“I know you’re not asleep, Bonni.” Ebony flinched as Miguel admonished her with a pinch.
“What makes you so sure I’m pregnant?” she responded defensively after a moment.
“Come on, Bonni. Those breasts? Too perfect. I’m a photographer, remember. I’ve seen and felt more fake breasts than most plastic surgeons and those are not fake. Besides…you’re keloidal. If you’d had surgery, you’d have scars…and like I said,” he remarked imperiously while stroking her breasts, “These are perfect.”
“You’re a little too smart for your own good, Mickey,” she grumbled, exasperated.
“Yeah, I know,” he said with a self-congratulatory smirk as he gave her body another squeeze.
“Yep, you’re a regular Cuban Sherlock Holmes,” she groused as he nibbled playfully at her ear.
“Bonni!” Alex’s voice cracked through the room like the sound of a broken timber.
Both Miguel and Ebony flinched as Alex made his presence known, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom. He held Ebony’s discarded dress in his hand and without looking at Miguel, crossed over to the side of the bed where Ebony lay. He handed her the garment and said quietly, “Get dressed.”
“You don’t have to go anywhere, Bonni,” Miguel said sharply. “She doesn’t need to leave. She has a home right here.”
“Right, until you find the next younger, sweeter thing to turn your head. Then what? You’ll put her out again?”
“Check your own glass house, Alex. You’re with a different woman almost every week.”
“So that gives you license to fuck my woman?” Alex asked incredulous.
“My woman, you mean,” Miguel countered as he hastily rose from the bed, grabbing his robe. “Ebony is mine, Alex. You know that.”
“No, Mick, she was yours, but not anymore.”
“Maybe I should get dressed,” Bonni said, scrambling out of the bed and hurriedly recovering her panties before rushing into the bathroom.
The two men were silent at first, fiercely glaring at each other, until Miguel sneered. “You think you’ve got a shot with Bonni?”
“More than a shot. Bonni’s mine, man. You need to get used to that.”
“Yours? Well, it didn’t look like that tonight.” Miguel smirked as he pulled on his robe.
In that split second, Alex advanced on Miguel so quickly that he didn’t even have time to raise his hands in defense. Alex’s big hands collared the robe around Miguel’s throat and Alex snatched him up close and hissed, “I expect you to respect what Bonni and I have.”
“You don’t have anything,” Miguel said.
“When you were with Bonni, I never touched her. But she comes here as my date and I turn my back for two minutes, Mick, and you’re all over her. What the fuck is that all about? You’re supposed to be mi compadre, mi hermano.”
Miguel knew Alex was right but he was too angry to think straight. He slammed his fists against Alex’s chest, and pushed
away from him, then began pacing back and forth like a caged tiger, gesticulating wildly.
“Bonni was the only thing that was ever mine, and you couldn’t wait to get your hands on her! You could have any other woman, but you just had to have Bonni. Why do you think that is?!”
“You need to get your shit together, Mick.” Alex laughed cruelly as he shook his head and walked toward the door. “Bonni is mine, and you put your hands on her. You know the only reason you’re still standing here drawing breath now is because I thought you were my friend. Consider that your birthday present.”
Without waiting for Miguel’s reply, Alex left the room and walked downstairs, leaving Miguel alone listening to the sounds of celebration and considering life in the coming year without the love of his woman or the companionship of his best friend.
Tomorrow’s Saints
Kathleen Bradean
Mamá wasn’t dying of anything, except embarrassment. She broke her hip. Instead of calling an ambulance, she phoned me.
“Me resbalé cuando estaba fregando, mi hija,” she explained, apologetic. I slipped while mopping, little girl.
The emergency medical technician told me that older women could easily break their fragile bones. I stared at him, wondering what old woman he was talking about. Then they wheeled Mamá past us on the gurney and, for the first time in years, I didn’t use my memory to filter the truth. She looked so frail, and her beautiful brown face was lined with wrinkles.
She looked even worse in the intensive care unit. Spindly metal IV poles hovered over the head of her bed like praying mantises. Machines beeped quietly as green lines trailed across their screens. Tubes were taped to her arms and under her nose.
“¿Cuando me puedo salir?” she asked. When can I get out of here?
It worried me that she’d lapsed into Spanish since having her accident. We rarely spoke it anymore. That was my fault. I wasn’t interested in anything that made me different. When she had called about her accident, I was shocked how long it took me to understand what she said.
