by Pynk
“Ummm.” She rubbed her thighs, and then her pussy lips.
“And then you rose up from my dick and faced the other way, getting on your knees, and you raised my legs and backed it up so I could watch your ass clap.”
“Uh-huh.” She again stuck her middle finger inside. Her wetness was seeping.
“You do have a big ass, don’t you Tangie?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good. Do me a favor. Put the phone up to your pussy and finger-fuck yourself so I can hear it.”
Magnolia found herself doing just as she was told, placing her cell to her opening with one hand, and sliding her finger in and out to the sound of her creamy juices. Loud juices. Louder than she thought it would be. She put the phone back to her ear. “Did you like that?” Her tone was suddenly X-rated.
He moaned deep. “I did. I almost nutted. But first, I want you to taste it for me.”
“Taste it?”
“Yeah. Stick your fingers in your mouth and tell me what it tastes like.”
She immediately licked her own juices from her finger. “It tastes sweet. Different. And it smells good.”
“Good. Now suck your finger like you’re sucking my dick. And let me hear that shit.”
She did.
He sounded as though he was in pillow talk overdrive. “See, I’m about to. Damn, Tangie. Suck it. Suck that big dick. Uggh. Uggh. Aww.” And Carl came for Magnolia, or Tangie, or whomever, over the phone. He kept groaning and made the sound of a deep, yanking grunt.
Magnolia kept listening as Carl10Inches flowed through his solo ecstasy. Her mind was surprised at how loud and turned on he was. She lost her erotic groove for a minute and waited until he stopped.
Within one minute, his voice was instantly normal. “Good girl. And next time, we’ll get on the webcam. You do have a webcam right?”
“I do.”
“Cool. I’ll be in touch online. Good night Tangie.”
“Good night.”
And he hung up. Magnolia sat up and said, “Well I’ll be damn. What if I’d wanted to get mine? His ass could’ve cared less.”
She heard a chime on her computer and stood up, noticing another chat icon that had popped up. She spoke to her kinky laptop. “No. Not tonight. Let me get over that shit first.” She prepared to turn it off as she stood over the screen, pantieless, and saw that it read, LeanAndJean. A couple. “Bye, LeanAndJean.” Magnolia shut it down. She looked over and glanced at herself in the dresser mirror.
“Dammit, I took that picture with my chain on. Duh.”
Seven
“Let’s Get It On”
Darla
INT.—DARLA’S CONDO—MIAMI BEACH—EARLY MORNING
January 30, 2009
Once Again.
Bed by ten.
She lay in a fetal position.
Mind on her money.
Money on her mind.
Darla’s body was barely covered by a peach, lace-trimmed negligee with elbow length sleeves, front ties in black, and black panties. It was only one of a ton of lingerie she had in the cedar chest at the foot of her walnut sleigh bed.
She lived in what was a $450,000 condo four years ago when she purchased it, but it was now worth a little more than $300,000. The eighteen-hundred-square-foot condo was nestled on the eleventh floor of a fourteen-story building. It had been revived to contemporary standards, but still had all the old charm and glamour of the 1950s in Miami, a city also called New York South.
Her taste was beige and black, and every piece of her décor reflected the classy contrasts. The fully tiled natural floors were beige with black borders. The corner balcony exposed the full nuance of downtown Miami, and the Atlantic Ocean, which served as her backyard.
Darla’s mind luxuriated in the grand fantasy of what the possibilities of her new business could be. And also, she stressed about where she’d get enough money to open a business, let alone to catch up on her expenses.
She’d found a couple of places she knew were a little too pricey, but the notion of location, location, location kept running through her head. She kept envisioning her store and what it would look like, who would be the first customer, and how her “lingerie boutique” would be the talk of the town, curing her from her money woes, if she could just get a loan.
She was thrilled that it was Friday, and that she had the whole weekend ahead of her, which meant two whole days of not having to deal with the people at the dental office where she worked.
She’d been there for over ten years, working as a dental technician, and even though she had a bachelor’s degree in merchandising, at the encouragement of her now deceased husband, she went back to get her two-year education at a dental school where she earned her certificate in dental technology.
But she hated working in the dental field. She was way too creative for that. She loved fashion, and the sexy lingerie she wore under her clothes. She loved unusual, comfortable, pretty, girlie undergarments. The fabric and look made her feel like a sex goddess. It made her feel desirable, framing the curves of her queen-sized body. Her unmentionables were not mentioned. They were on the down low, her own little secret she didn’t dare share.
When Aaron was still alive, she only worked a few days a week, a few hours a day. But once he passed, she had no choice but to work full time in a field that didn’t fit her. And the day-to-day drama at her office was weighing on her heavily. Even causing her to eat more, sit around at home and think, simply working during the day and spending time with herself at night, and occasionally with Rebe and Magnolia. Other than that, she was alone.
The one person she should’ve been spending more time with was her father. But she seemed to make excuses not to see him. As much as she wanted to spend time with the man who was her heart and soul, for her, it just seemed like they were two pathetic widowed souls, surviving but not living, experiencing life alone against their will, vowing to be true to the one that God had other plans for. It sometimes made her sadder. Just like with her mother-in-law, it reminded her of what once was, but now wasn’t.
And of course she didn’t date. She didn’t even have date options. Last summer there was a man, a handsome Hispanic, who came in for an appointment. When she walked past him in the lobby, he tried to hit on her. But to Darla, he was half the size she liked her men to be. He was thin and short. Darla liked them almost heavy, and very tall. Not a man who was one-quarter her size. It only reminded her how big she was. She liked them to look just like Aaron did. Big.
But now, to her, it seemed as though she couldn’t even get a starving man to look at her even if she had a pork chop dangling from her neck.
Darla, aside from her financial problems, was lonely.
And as much as she fought the very feelings that sometimes, more than others, slapped her on the ass…she was horny.
For some reason tonight, the tall stranger Rebe met on New Year’s Eve named DeMarius, was on Darla’s mind. Rebe joked that he fucked her so hard that if she’d gotten pregnant, she would’ve had twins. And the fact that he wore Rebe out till the break of dawn was taking up Darla’s imaginary mind. She felt the call of the wild tonight. And it was loud.
Darla threw the white cotton sheets off her body, leaned over to look under her bed, and opened her trusty old shoebox where she and Aaron used to hide their grown-folk toys. She’d gotten rid of some of the items, too many memories she thought. But she replaced them with a few movies she’d watch from time to time. The one she hadn’t watched before caught her attention. It was called Three the Hard Way.
Darla took it out, got up, placed it in the DVD player on her dresser, and grabbed the remote, snuggling back into bed, propping up the bed pillows behind her head.
Darla pressed Play and fast-forwarded to the real action. The shot of two men and one woman. The woman was sitting on a sofa in an office, one man was going down on her, the other was on the couch next to her, on his knees, and she was sucking his long, thin dick. The young woman with short
red hair could barely get all his length down her throat without gagging, and he seemed to enjoy the sound and sight of that even more, placing his hand behind her head to align her mouth for her precise deep throat.
The man on his knees got a good steady tongue groove going, and the woman, who looked like she just couldn’t help herself, paused her sucking to focus on the supreme oral sensation. She quivered, shook, and bumped her vagina toward his face, threw her head back with one hand still on the other man’s dick, and she ripped a fast orgasm, shouting to the sex powers that be, saying, “Thank you. Yes.”
Darla squinted and said, “Damn.” Her eyes, and mind, continued.
The man who’d made her come traded places with the man on the couch, who got between her long legs and inserted his dick all the way back to her cervix, and she took it, deep inside, all while the pussy eater’s dick was in her mouth. He wasn’t as large as the other man, so she handled it better, but he gave conniption-fit sounds like he just couldn’t take it. He revved up, and at the same time, the man between her legs revved up.
By now, Darla, who had pulled her nightgown up and her panties down, had two fingers deep inside of herself, finger-fucking her pussy slow and deep, trying to get a good angle as deep as she could, and with the other hand, she flicked her right nipple and twisted it, feeling it get stiffer and stiffer as she played with herself. Darla grinded toward her hand and watched the two men wind down from their ecstasy.
She closed her eyes for a moment and thought about what Rebe must’ve been feeling, being done by the big man, and she started to warm up, getting wetter, and the more she pictured them, him inside of her, her taking all of him, the more Darla began to feel the build up of her own excitement and it felt forbidden.
She slowed down and the fantasy vision was replaced. All she could think about was Aaron, on top of her, grunting and groaning, exploring the pussy he’d known for so long, that belonged to him and him alone, getting her in a deep missionary, working Darla just like the last time they had sex. He moved faster and faster, frantically digging inside of her tightness, sperm shooting from his penis into the crevices of her vagina, when he made a sound like he was swallowing hard, and his mouth flew open. To her, Aaron was growing heavier and heavier, and more still, and he stiffened from head to toe. She looked at the side of his face and could tell that his eyes were bugged to the extreme.
He looked shocked and pained.
And he collapsed on top of her.
Dead.
Just as he’d died in real life five years ago.
Tonight, two minutes later, it was panties up, video off, and under the sheets in a fetal position.
Darla’s sex life, even her masturbatory sex life, would have to wait once again.
As well as the exploration of experiencing an orgasm.
Which she’d never had in her entire conservative life.
Eight
“Seduction”
Rebe
INT.—MAKE IT RAIN GENTLEMEN’S CLUB—FORT LAUDERDALE—LATE EVENING
February 4, 2009
The hot pink sign outside flashed a neon busty burlesque girl with shapely long legs. It read, Make It Rain Gentlemen’s Club and was located on a dead-end street of an older Fort Lauderdale business park.
It was a Wednesday night, the most popular night, and the parking lot was full. It was the night when the virgin amateur dancers would get their introductory exhibitionist chance. And Rebe would be one of them.
The place was speaker-bumping loud.
It was fantasy-mood dark.
And it was cigarette-burning smoky.
The main room was big and round with a circular stage. Three rows of padded stackable chairs surrounded it. Up against the walls were royal-blue velvet sofas with curvy dancers straddling the laps of hungry men, and hungry women, at twenty dollars a pop and more.
The music was funky and fast, soulful and trendy, talking about drop it, pop it, bend it, and make it clap. Fit females worked their moves, making love to the pole while their fans with penis-poles between their legs wished to be her sole focus of desire.
As pasties and rhinestone G-string wearing, six-foot-one Trixie Blue left the stage, Lil Wayne’s “Lollipop” began at full blast, and Rebe, aka Queenie, who’d been hired the week before, strutted on next, with her long, lean body adorned by a shimmering silver thong and thick clear platforms. Her mocha skin had a thin glossing of silver body glitter, and she wore a hint of an insecure gleam in her huge eyes, which were lined with royal blue and black, extreme false eyelashes.
Queenie stood tall at the very front of the stage. She fought to not drop her chin at the sight of the lustful twinkle in the eyes of those who took in her scantily clad vision. She shook it off by poking out her chest, shoulders back, while flinging her long braids from left to right, and then she turned her backside toward two suit-wearing businessmen sitting front and center. She had a mental moment with her old self. You can do this. You need to do this. It’s okay. It was her way of talking to the preacher’s kid inside of her, or as Rebe would call it, pseudo-preacher. It was her own personal self-esteem pep talk that she’d been doing for years whenever she needed to brace herself for what she was told would send her straight to hell.
She took a deep breath and bent over, sliding her thong down her hips, dropping it to her ankles, and kicking it off near the pole. The club’s policy was that it was sexier to not take it all off, so what she wore underneath was a skinny black G-string that was barely enough fabric to shield her fat, waxed, brownish-red pussy lips. She stood still for a moment, again taking in the full attention from all eyes on her, and forced a major breath through her nose along with a forced weak smile.
Though to her the word sinner buzzed in her head, her heart told her she was the woman. It actually pounded beats of excitement for her as though giving her two thumbs-up like it was enjoying the powerful adrenaline that was rushing through her veins. It hadn’t felt the feeling enough.
And her admirers agreed with her heart. Just as she accepted the odd feeling of her own thirst of the moment, their naughty faces spelled a matching hunger of approval for more. When they hooted and called with dollar bills in hand, she took three big, sultry steps to the golden pole that awaited her skills, and leaned back along it, immediately doing her mastered, martini spin move, sliding her limber body around and around, then lifting her legs higher and higher toward the top until she was upside down. Her braids hung and swayed and her scissor move exposed a tad bit of what she was working with, even her new, gold-studded clitoris peeked through and winked. She pulled her legs together and flipped to her feet, rubbing on herself with passion while she approached a young man on the side of the stage who was holding a crisp new twenty.
Queenie got down on her knees and crawled closer like a cautious feline, arching her back and poking her ass out as far as she could. She felt a sensation that made her flinch all over. The heated turn on was foreign but friendly.
She pressed her tits together and eyed him down while he examined her cleavage. His green-eyed gaze was locked. He had a face like he was barely old enough to drink, no facial hair whatsoever, and his hair was short and curly. His skin was so light, he was banana-beige. He wore chocolate diamond studs in his ears.
She admired the sight of him and moved in even closer.
He inhaled the smell of her skin, the scent of Escape, and folded the crisp bill, inserting it in and out between her breasts like a credit card, like the twenty was getting its own tittie fuck. He then placed the bill inside the string of her skimpy undies, just along her hip bone and said, “Damn. Umm, umm, umm.” He unglued his eyes and scooted them to her face. “If I could have you to myself, I swear I’d never set foot in here again.”
She grinded her hips and replied, “Oh, you wouldn’t, huh?”
He spoke low. “Never. And just so you know, there’s more where that came from. When are you on the floor?”
“Hang around and find out. I’ll find
you,” she whispered.
“You do that, Queenie.” His sights shifted toward her pussy. “You got the right one there.” And then to her ass. “Your body is so sick. You are definitely the queen of this place.”
She blushed and blinked. “Thanks, Babyface.” Queenie slowly backed up her crawl and rose to her feet, pulling the twenty from her G-string, stepping to the pole where she placed it along the floor as she began rubbing her hands along her nearly forty-year-old flat stomach, making sure to glance back at him, giving him a look as if to say she could take him right there on the stage if he’d dare to try. Her eyes spoke the dirty actress dare only for a few moments, and then she looked away at the waves of men who gave lustful stares, men sure to use her visual image for their own sexual mind-rendezvous later. Some shook their heads like she was the goddess of their worlds, and some whistled like she should come to them and give them a whiff as well. There were even three women who sat in the second row with their legs crossed, saying nothing to each other, just admiring, one looking at Queenie’s tits, licking her lips.
A few of the men in the front row stood and all at once released their handfuls of cash onto the stage in front of her, literally making it rain. She watched the money fall to the floor and said inside her head, Damn. That was easy. She felt an odd sense of approval.
The song wound down and she ended her striptease with a money stroll, sexily picking up all the cash that was sprinkled along the floor of the stage.
The DJ spoke loudly from his booth by the door. “Let’s hear it for Queenie. Our newest dancer here at Make It Rain. She looks like a sexy pro if you ask me. No amateur there. And up next we have Loveliness, who sure is that. Give her a big hand of appreciation,” he yelled, as if the next contestant, who was a pretty, butch dancer, were coming out for an American Idol audition. He played “Seduction” by Usher. The ladies in the crowd, especially, stood tall, bills ready.
