From the Streets to the Sheets

by Noire

  We continued to fuck. Raheem sucked on my hard nipples and repeatedly pounded some good fuckin’ dick up in me. “I’m cumming,” I cried out again. I felt my legs quivering, so I gripped the railing with my left hand and continued to ride.

  I felt his dick get harder inside me as he grabbed my butt tightly, and his fingers gripped my butt cheeks as I felt him shuddering and exploding in me.

  Moments later, he made me explode too. I remained seated on his lap, panting and trying to catch my breath. I glanced at the time and saw that I only had two minutes left of my break.

  “Damn, you always do this to me,” I told Raheem as I dismounted him, wiped myself, and put my panties back on.

  He smiled and said, “But you know it’s worth it.”

  We quickly got decent again, and Raheem stepped out of the stall before me to check if all was clear. He signaled for me that it was okay to leave, and I strutted out of the bathroom running my hands through my hair.

  I made it back to my desk, and sank into my chair with a pleased look plastered across my face. Even Carol noticed it when she looked at me and said, “Damn, Ayeesha, that must have been some break. You looking like a whole new woman.”

  I smiled and thought, If she only knew.

  • • •

  After work, I rode east with Raheem in his new 2007 S-Class, gleaming black Benz. He had his hand up my skirt finger-popping me as he did eighty miles an hour on the Long Island Expressway as we headed to his ten-acre ranch in Riverhead, Long Island. And of course I sucked his dick in the car for a good twenty minutes!

  We got there around eight that evening, and I was in awe. His crib was all that. I stepped out of the car amazed. He showed me around, which took damn near an hour, but when we walked out the back of the house and into a barn, my mouth dropped open. It was the same barn I’d been seeing in my dreams!

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all,” I said, staring at his big black horses. “It’s just funny, because I feel like I’ve seen this place before,” I marveled.

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  We ended up having dinner, drinking champagne and having some real good conversation. He introduced me to his butler, Henry, who had been taking care of Raheem since he was in diapers.

  But the exciting news came when Raheem told me that he’d made up his mind to let my agency handle his account. That would bring a lot of money into the office, and he admitted that he was giving his business to my agency all because of me. He also said that he was going to give Mr. Robinson some really good reports about me, and I was thrilled because his word could help me get a promotion.

  Around ten that night I found myself in the barn with Raheem, fucking him once again. He had me bent over one of the stable doors, my skirt pulled up, panties on the ground, as he did to me what he did best.

  Moments later, we were butt naked in the hay wilding the fuck out. I was in the missionary position, legs straddled around him, and screaming at the top of my lungs. He did me justice that night! It seemed like every time we fucked, it just got better and better.

  It was so good that I passed out nestled against Raheem in the hay, and we slept butt-naked in each other’s arms the whole night.

  I woke up around ten that Saturday morning and knew that I needed to call my boo. Tears was probably worried sick about me. I had lied and told him I would be home late because I was accompanying Mr. Robinson to an important business meeting in the city, but that was no excuse to stay out all night long.

  I sat up in the hay and was surprised that Raheem was not by my side. I figured he’d probably gone inside the house for a moment, so I quickly got dressed. When I walked out of the barn I saw Henry tending one of the horses.

  “Where’s Raheem?” I asked.

  He looked at me like he never saw me before.

  “And you are?” he asked.

  “Ayeesha, remember? I came home with Raheem last night, and we had dinner together. We talked for hours.”

  “I’m sorry, I have no recollection of you,” he stated. “How did you get here anyway?”

  “Raheem brought me,” I told him. I suddenly noticed that the Benz was gone. But I also remembered Raheem telling me that Henry was getting old and his mind sometimes came and went.

  My ass had to take a cab home. I was pissed off that Raheem had left without waking me up or saying good-bye. But he was a busy man, making millions.

  I got home around noon, only to get into a heated argument with Tears for staying out all night with no good excuse. I thought that niggah was gonna attack me—he was just that fuckin’ furious. Over and over he threatened to kill me if he caught me fuckin’ some other niggah, but eventually he calmed down after I lied my ass off about my whereabouts, then sucked his dick, swallowed his kids, and gave him some bomb pussy that made him shut the fuck up about me not coming home last night.

  • • •

  Monday morning found me in my office bright and early. I was excited about Raheem’s new account and my involvement in it. I knew it would mean some major shit for the agency. I looked around the office for Raheem, but he was nowhere to be found.

  Noontime came, and I was getting anxious—still no Raheem. I sighed. I thought maybe he had come in even earlier than me, taken care of his business with the agency, and then had to leave on business.

  I left my desk and went to Mr. Robinson’s office. I knocked twice on his door and heard him call, “Come in.”

  I walked into his office and my boss was seated at his desk looking over some papers.

  “Mr. Robinson, did we get the new account?” I asked, smiling tremendously about it.

  He looked up at me and I saw his eyebrow arch. “New account?”

  “Yes, with Raheem. He told me over the weekend that he wanted us to handle his account. He said that I was a big help in his decision to do business with us.”

  My boss leaned back in his leather chair and gave me this baffled look, and then he hit me with, “Who is Raheem?”

  “You introduced me to him last week,” I proclaimed, thinking my boss was losing his mind. “He was sitting right there on that couch.” I pointed. “He was tall, dark-skinned, bald head, trimmed goatee—a very handsome man. He was in here talking to you about business.”

  “I’m sorry, Ayeesha, but I have no idea who you’re talking about. I never met any Raheem, nor am I familiar with anyone with that name,” he said.

  I stood in my boss’s office dumbfounded. Didn’t anyone remember Raheem except me?

  “You’ve got to know him. I met him right here. He’s got to be real. I mean, we—” I stopped myself from blowing up my own spot in front of Mr. Robinson. “Raheem took me out to a ranch in Riverhead on Friday evening. He showed me his horses.”

  “Did you say a ranch in Riverhead?” Mr. Robinson said.

  Suddenly, my eyes were drawn to a picture sitting on my boss’s shelf. I’d never seen it there before, but it was familiar. It was a picture of Raheem.

  “That’s him! That’s Raheem!” I shouted, pointing to the picture.

  “My son?”

  “Your son?”

  “Yes. But his name isn’t Raheem. It’s Jerome, and he was killed three years ago. In fact, in Riverhead.”

  I looked at him like, What the fuck!

  “If you don’t mind me asking, how did he die?” I asked.

  “Jerome loved horses all his life. A week after his twenty-third birthday he was trampled by a stallion on a ranch in Riverhead. In fact, today would have been my son’s twenty-sixth birthday,” he proclaimed.

  “Ohmygod!” I muttered, with my hand cupped over my mouth. I felt like I was about to faint. How could it be? I asked myself. My nipples were still sore. It had seemed so real.

  “Ayeesha, you sure you’re okay? You need some time off? You need to go home?” he asked.

  “No, I’ll be fine,” I said, leaving his office.

  I was spooked. Had I been fuckin’ a spir
it? A ghost? I didn’t know what to think. I made my way back to my desk trying to come up with a logical explanation for all this shit. The crazy dreams, the wild sex, and the fuckin’ horses!

  “Ayeesha, you okay?” Carol asked.

  I nodded. I was starting to get a headache. I went into my purse looking for something to take for my sudden headache. That’s when I pulled out the note Raheem had written me on Thursday:

  Meet me at the Sheraton Hotel, room 825, during your lunch.

  I freaked straight out, falling out of my chair, hitting my head on the desk, and making a loud thud as I landed on the floor.

  When I woke up again I was in my boo’s arms. My coworker Carol must have called him to come get me because Tears was looking down at me with big eyes. He had taken me home and put me in our bed. At first I thought everything had been one crazy dream, until I saw the gun in Tears’s hand. He gripped me by my neck and pushed the note Raheem had written me up in my face.

  “Bitch,” he said with the barrel pressed to my forehead. “You met a motherfucker in room 825 at the Sheraton Hotel? Ain’t no way you can fuckin’ explain this shit!”

  I opened my mouth to tell him it had only been a dream, but then I heard the trigger click, and just like Tears had promised, my life was over.

  LIFE OF SIN

  Joy

  “What’s your pleasure?” I purred into the phone. Being the sex kitten that I am, I knew I had the dog on the other end of the phone with his tail standing straight up.

  “Shit, you. You my pleasure, ma,” Papi said with his heavy Cuban accent.

  It was 12:01 A.M. Even before answering the phone I’d known it was Papi calling. He made sure that he was always the first man to call me upon the dawn of a new day.

  He loved being my first.

  “You know I hate sloppy seconds,” he always says.

  “I’m your pleasure, huh?” I asked. I wanted to hear him say it again. Well, actually, I wanted him to think that I wanted to hear him say it again.

  “Umm, you, puta. You’re my pleasure, you fuckin’ puta.”

  “I’m your puta, Papi. I’m your cunt,” I said, sticking my index finger in my mouth and sucking on it. I knew damn well he couldn’t see me, but he could hear my wet tongue slurping on it. The visual alone had his hands yankin’ off on his chilito by now.

  “What do you want to do to me, Papi? What do you want to do to this cunt of yours? Fuck it, huh? Is that what you want to do? Come on. Oooh, come on, Papi and just fuck it. Fuck it good for me, huh.”

  By now I had a smile a mile long on my face. I could hear Papi beating that stick like it was Rodney King and he was Five-O. It had been less than one minute and this nigga was ’bout to bust. This was a record-breaking time for me. I must say that I felt proud. But it was too premature to celebrate. So just to make sure that his call to me would be worth it, I decided to go hard in the paint.

  “I feel you inside me. I feel you inside me, Papi,” I said, finding myself picking up on his accent. It was a force of habit. After only hearing Papi say a few words to me, I found myself replying to him with a slight accent myself. He never took it as though I was trying to imitate or make fun of him, though. As a matter of fact, it made him even more excited. I think he probably pictured a nice, coconut-complected, clammy Boriqua, with her hair sweated out, sprawled across her bed, him plunging his dick inside her pussy and bustin’ a nut deep up inside of her hole instead of inside his fist.

  “You feel it? You feel that shit, puta?” he moaned, breathing heavily into my ear.

  “You’re hurting me, Papi. Not so hard.”

  “Shut the fuck up and take this shit like a real puta!”

  “Oh, Papi!” I let out a screech that sounded as though it was on the verge of pleasure and pain.

  “Yeah, that’s right. See, it hurts so good, don’t it?”

  “Yes, yes, yes. It hurts so good, but I can take it. I can take all of it. Give it to me, Papi. Give it to me harder!” I began damn near yelling at the top of my lungs.

  “Oh shit,” he yelled. I could hear the thumping of him jacking off. “Oh yeah.” He got louder. I knew it was time.

  “Oh, Papi, I want you to pull out and nut all over me. I want your babies all over me. I want to rub it in like lotion, Papi. Come on, Papi. Now! Now! Now!”

  “Oh shit,” I heard him yell. I then heard a large thump, the phone dropping. Because of the distance Papi was now away from the phone, his muffled tone informed me that he was cumming. Over and over he screamed it. “I’m cummin’. I’m cummin’. Oh, you fuckin’ cunt, look what you made me do!”

  “Here, listen to this,” I said in a whisper as I took the phone off my ear and put it next to Sam’s, who was sitting right there next to me in the bed, butt naked, and working on a crossword puzzle. I watched Sam’s eyes light up at the drama going down on the other end of the line. The laughter that wanted to burst out of Sam’s mouth had to be contained, and I quickly placed my hand over those gorgeous lips.

  Sam looked at me with sparkling gray eyes, bright and full of life, listening in amusement at how I had just made Papi nut all over himself with my bomb-ass phone sex skills.

  I’d sometimes let Sam listen in on the calls I received on my 900 “What’s Your Pleasure” line. Anyone else’s lover might have gotten jealous sitting there listening to their mate verbally fuck someone on the phone. But Sam knew that every last one of those men who called me up for my phone sex service was named Bill; Water Bill, Gas Bill, Light Bill, Phone Bill, Cable Bill, etc. . . . No man could do for me what Sam did for me, so they were no threat to our relationship.

  I removed the phone from Sam’s ear and placed it back on mine.

  “Papi, oh, Papi.” I panted lightly, as if I had just cum myself. “See what you do to me? Why do you do this to me all the time?”

  “Whew-wee,” he said, as if he was trembling from the aftershock of his earthshaking explosion. “It’s not what I do to you, Mami. It’s what you do to me.”

  “And you know you like it.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I love it.” We both laughed in each other’s ear.

  “Same time next time, Papi?”

  “Same time next time, my little puta.”

  “Adios,” I said, ending the call.

  Upon hanging up the phone I looked over at Sam, who looked over at me. Sam slowly took the crossword puzzle and the pen and laid them aside. Then, like a fiery wild little panther, Sam arched on all fours and slowly crawled toward me. My clit immediately began to swell and throb like it was a dick. It got to the point where I stuck my hand down the black lace panties I was wearing and grabbed hold of my crotch, just double-checking that God hadn’t played some cruel trick on me and grew me a dick out of nowhere. I rubbed my sensitive, moist knob as Sam kneeled on all fours over me. I leaned back on the stack of three soft head pillows and allowed my hand to play with my wet patch.

  “I like finger food,” Sam informed me. “Let me taste.”

  I smiled, catching the hint Sam was throwing, and removed my hand from my panties. One by one I slowly let Sam suck my juices off my fingers as I crooned my hips at just the thought of Sam doing to my pussy what was being done to my fingers.

  “Ummm,” Sam said, inhaling my entire middle finger then spitting it out and heading straight for my croonin’ jungle.

  Sam slowly slid my panties down my long, slender legs, the color of a tootsie roll, sniffing the crotch before tossing them onto the floor. “Smells like a rose,” Sam said, before diving headfirst into my pool of chocolate thoughts.

  “Oh fuck,” I said as Sam licked at my clit like the momma kitten would lick a baby. I couldn’t help but grab Sam by the hair and start humping.

  “Ummm,” Sam hummed on my clit, making me spread my legs like I was pushing a baby out.

  I held my legs open by my ankles. I was open wide, signaling Sam that I was ready to be finger-fucked. Not a moment too soon, Sam plunged one finger in after the next, dippin
g all in and out of my Kool-Aid, trying to figure out the flavor.

  “Come here,” I said to Sam.

  I could feel Sam’s middle finger inside of me while at the same time I felt Sam’s body lay upon mine. Sam brushed my bangs to the side to join the rest of the strands of my dusty brown shoulder-length hair. She then looked into my dark brown china-shaped eyes, inherited by my half-Chinese, half-black father.

  “God, I love you so fuckin’ much,” I said with tears in my eyes as I pumped up and down on Sam’s fingers. I was crying because it felt so good. I was crying because I really did love Sam. It felt good to be made to feel so damn good. It felt good to be in love.

  “I love you too, baby,” Sam replied with such deep sincerity. That’s when I decided that I wanted to fuck Sam too. So I took my middle finger, maneuvered it through the soft hairs leading to Sam’s jungle, and entered my finger in one thrust.

  As if Sam was trying to upstage me, I felt two fingers massaging the inside of my walls, in search of that G-spot, while a thumb pressed against my clit, providing the ultimate sensation.

  “Oh, Sam,” I said, lifting my head up and shoving my tongue down Sam’s throat while we plunged our fingers in and out of each other’s pussy as we smacked our bodies up against one another. “My sexy Samantha.”

  Samantha was my foxy little project chick. With her soft gray eyes, smooth, vanilla-wafer Cover Girl skin, a short cut, showing off her curly loops, tinted with gold-rush blond hair, and standing at only about four feet nine inches, she looked like a short double for that Eva chick from America’s Next Top Model.

  “Move your hand,” Sam said, pulling her fingers out of me. “Open your lips,” she ordered me, referring to my pussy lips. I took my thumbs, placing one on each lip, and moved the skin back so that my throbbing clit was exposed like a dog’s dick when he’s in heat. Sam did the same with hers as she brought her pelvis down against mine tightly and our clits pressed together. I closed my eyes at the feeling of pure ecstasy. The feeling of being like one with Sam was amazing. I felt like we were connected as she began sliding her clit up and down mine. “Hold on to me tight,” she ordered me.