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I’ve had massages that didn’t feel this good. She has one hand on my thigh, the other’s on my ass. I can feel a finger creeping into my hole, right as I start to grind faster from the top.
“Oh my God!” she cries out, keeping up well with my gyrations. Our pussies are in sync. Yin and yang. The perfect balance of vibrations and body warmth, wrapped into a well-orchestrated workout. My legs are shaking like crazy. Moans evolve into murderous screams, growing on the walls like mold. I feel full and depleted at the same time. Everything around me is starting to spin.
I feel completely unstoppable, grinding on her like she's owed me this orgasm for years. “You gonna cum for Mami?”
“Yes! Yes!” she wails, “I’m gonna cum for Mami.”
“Do that shit,” I start to choke her with my right hand, raising her leg with the other, “Make that pussy squirt for Mami. Show me how fuckin’ sorry you really are. Show me that nasty lil slut we both know exists in you. This is what you’ve needed. Show my husband how far you’ll really go to make us proud.”
That’s all the encouragement she needs. She lets it all out. All of the pent-up tension. Her worries. Her stresses. Her sexual vexation. She lets it all out, all over the sheets. I’m not too far behind. I’m in vibration hell, rising with heat. The bed’s rocking underneath us with the same intensity as me bouncing on top of her.
“That’s it, Mami. Let it out,” she cheers, keeping me balanced with her hands, “Let it all out. Show me how it’s done.”
I’m going.
Going.
Gone.
Another break occurs. Damien rolls another blunt while we share some water on the bed. We each take a hit before hubby goes back to his seat. I’m so high, I can barely feel my toes. But as long as I can feel her pussy on mine again, I’m fine. After we catch our wind, we spin the block.
This time, she’s on top of me, grinding slowly across my thigh while spit drips down onto my titties for me to suck off. She’s completely possessed. Soon switching positions so that she’s right between my legs, sexing me from the missionary position. My legs are wrapped tightly around her waist as she keeps going, sucking on the corner of my perfume-scented neck. Her body practically melts into mine. Our rhythm is perfect, as are the moans erupting from our sweaty bodies. My nails are deep in her skin. I’m so ready to explode.
“Fuck me. Fuck me,” I cry with pleasure.
Well, she fucks me completely comatose. I don’t awake until the next morning, still naked and completely alone. I’m no longer inside Ecstasy Island. Instead, I’m right in the center of the comforter inside our master bedroom. Damien must’ve moved me after everything calmed down. Which begs the question: where is my husband anyway?
“Bae?”
No response. It’s quieter than a house full of small mice. The only noise that exists is the sound of the neighbors next door mowing their grass. Again. They do it so much, I’m surprised there’s nothing but dirt on their lawn.
It feels like a workout sitting up to stretch. My hair is all tangled. My mouth feels dry like sand. Everything around me looks blurry like a badly taken iPhone picture. I take a swipe at my eyes twice to clear them before going on a hunt for my professional girlie glasses.
I get out of bed, stubbing my toe on the way down like the clumsy bitch that I am. I hobble around the room like a circus performer, rubbing across my aching foot. Finally, I spot them on our nightstand, hiding from me under used napkins. I clean them and throw them on as if I really need their use. Once situated, I grab my phone to check my messages. Damien is the first name I see.
Hubby Daddy: Hey baby, went off to meet with my mom to talk about the app. Syren must’ve dipped out a couple of hours ago. She was gone by the time I woke up. Anyway, I left breakfast on the stove for you. Make sure you eat something, shorty. No skipping. Text once you’re up. See you later on, be safe, and I love you.
I grin widely like a schoolgirl texting her crush while typing a response.
Me: Kay, baby. Thank you so much. I’ll reach out to check on her. You be safe too. I love you more. Oh, and yes, I’ll make sure to eat something, Sargent. Gosh.
A quick laugh comes and goes before I notice a text from Dime that’s still unread.
Dime: Hey. Meet me at my house when you can, sis. We need to chat.
Well, that sounds alarming.
Me: Okay. I’ll be over there in an hour or so.
I might as well make that the first destination. If Dime is sending me texts like that, it’s best to meet her as early as possible. I put my phone on the charger while getting ready. A plain white t-shirt and black jean shorts are tossed onto the bed next to a fresh set of panties. The Flash has
nothing on a woman rushing to get in the shower. I’m underneath the torrential heat storm faster than tires spin, rubbing myself down with my Native body wash.
My shower is really nothing but a venue for memories and stroking myself under a lengthy daydream. In my vision, I’m being fucked from the back by Damien with a butt plug inside me. I’m eating Syren nice and slow with ice on my tongue. Laying French kisses on her vulva repeatedly. Everything feels so real. I’m against the wall, hitting my spot with a surgeon’s talent. The water feels like hot soup coming down my skin, fogging the shower door completely.
Finally, I relive the euphoria from the night before, being invaded with serotonin as my fingers shakily pull away from my throbbing hole. I air-dry with a blunt in the air, thinking over the last few days of my life. Between Rayne’s begging ass, Dime and Syren, my life could be a wild ass TV series. With no telling what’s next.
Once I’m moisturized and dressed, I head out into the kitchen to see what Damien left me. Grilled steak, sunny side up eggs, Brioche French Toast with bananas. I laugh to myself, amazed at how superhuman Damien is. That man doesn’t care what time it is. He’s going to get that grill burning. I keep my promise to him, nibbling on the steak and French Toast. I eat enough to keep me from being lightheaded, wrapping the rest up for later. I take an Orange Juice from the fridge on my way out the door. Dime still hasn’t texted me back, but she’ll just have to open the door. I want to get to the lounge early to set up. Plus, payroll.
