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“Let me get this straight, Damon,” I say, my eyes laser beams as they stare straight through him. “You set this up—you were willing to have your friend or whoever this guy is over there fuck me, and her, too,” I add, pointing to the woman stroking his hardening dick. “As long as I what—asked your permission? Oh, and I see that didn’t stop you from partaking in certain pleasures.”
Damon is silent as he watches me. I shake my head contemptuously.
I turn to leave as I smooth the wrinkles from my dress. I get about six feet before I twist to face them.
“You know what? Fuck it and fuck you!” I exclaim before I spin on my heels and stroll toward the exit.
“You’re just a whore!” Damon yells.
That comment causes me to cease my movement. I stand perfectly still, my back to the three of them, my chest heaving as I’m fuming inside. There are so many things that I want to say, and my eyes dart around for something to throw his way. But then a calm overtakes me as I recall the luscious passion that coursed through my veins earlier. My legs are still wobbly from the intense fucking, and I can feel the stickiness between my thighs. I lick my lips slowly and taste her.
I smile to myself as I pivot to Damon one last time.
“You have no idea,” I say to my lovers and wink.
And with that I am gone, like a wisp of cigar smoke, into the ether, and out of sight.
Bon Appétit
James E. Cherry
“Please, James.”
She wanted me to eat her pussy. But brothers don’t do that. Not real brothers, anyway.
“Please, James,” she cooed, lying on her back, legs wide open, with me sucking her left breast, the nipple firm against my tongue like a hard piece of candy. “I’m so wet.” She took my hand and plunged it toward her crotch, my middle finger making a splash upon entrance. My penis ached with stiffness.
Saliva drooled from the corner of my mouth as I reluctantly came up for exasperated air. We had been through this before.
“Baby, I ain’t down with that. Literally ain’t down wit it.” My hand was now wandering through the wilderness of her thickly tangled bush.
“But you never tell me why.”
“Ain’t no why.”
“Well, how can you complain about something you’ve never had? I enjoy doing it to you and I ain’t complaining.”
“Hey.” I smiled. “I ain’t complaining when you do it either. Just seems more natural for a woman to do it for a man, though.”
“Why? I like to feel good, too. I don’t always cum when we have intercourse. I want to feel your mouth on me sometimes.” Her voice became heavy with sadness. “Do you not like the way I smell? You have an odor, too, you know.”
“What do I smell like?”
“Like dick.”
“Look.” I was now lying on my back, penis limp as a deflated balloon, hands clasped behind my head, eyes closed, trying to sort and rearrange the many thoughts scattered in my mind. “When I was coming up in the ’hood, if a brother did that the other homeboys would kick him to the curb and call him weak; a chump. You were considered a pussy if you ate pussy. You’re my woman and I want to make you happy, please you, but…I just need a little more time with that.” Suddenly, my mind cleared with a sweeping thought. “Let’s do it doggie-style!”
I tried to flip her on all fours but she karate-chopped me to the ribs and sent me flat on my back again. “No.” She was atop me like a professional wrestler going for a three count. “Doggie-style hasn’t anything to do with it. How many years has it been since you were raised in the ’hood? And not only that, you’re not in a relationship with the homeboys. You’re in a relationship with me, and if we’re going to be and stay in this relationship, we both have to take as well as give. We’ve been seeing each other for six months and I ain’t got no head yet. And you better be careful. The statute of limitations is running out on blowjobs.”
“The what?”
Her nose flared slightly, and her soft hazel eyes stared at me from under neatly arched eyebrows. Her black curls spiraled just past her earlobes complementing her polished pearl teeth. Through slightly parted lips, she kissed me as I whispered, “Sharon.”
“You like fruit?”
I smiled back at her and stroked her neck with my index finger. “What you talking ’bout, girl? Is the statute of limitations running out on fruit, too?”
“Maybe.” She pushed herself up. “Pour yourself another drink.”
