Fresh Whet INK publishing
SUMMER HEAT copyright June, 2011
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Fresh Whet Ink Publishing
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First Edition June 2011
A Smashwords Edition
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SUMMER HEAT
Ms. Downlow
The KWEEN
Perri Forrest
Sable Jordan
Dear Reader,
Thank you for taking the time to download a copy of this anthology. It was created as a means to express our appreciation to people like you who support independent authors. We know you’ll find our stories tickle your fancy and whet your appetites. We only ask that you enjoy this free read, and then stop by to write a review. And, of course, don’t forget to tell a friend to download their free copy as well. And now we present to you, Summer Heat.
Downsized by Ms. Downlow
Ninety Days by The KWEEN
Butterflies in Motion by Perri Forrest
Shaken and Stirred by Sable Jordan
Ms. Downlow
Sweat soaked my cotton tank as I watched the heat waves rising up from the Vegas Strip. Even in my skimpy shirt and Daisy Dukes, I was uncomfortably hot. It was 104 degrees, and instead of running the A/C, I had my windows down to save gas. At $4 plus per gallon of premium, I really shouldn't have been driving my greedy Range Rover at all. But I would be damned if—
Whooooonk, Whooooonk!
Apparently someone behind me had places to go, while I was content to idle at the green light. I mashed the pedal to the floor and surged forward. Lucky fuck! I thought, mean mugging the anxious middle aged driver behind me in his Mercedes. As much as I hated rude drivers, I wished I, too, had someplace to be. Instead, I wandered the streets of the town, looking at all the commercial and residential properties I had designed, burning up gas for which I would soon have no money to purchase.
Three weeks ago, I was a single, young, successful black female architect working for a national construction company. Today, I no longer held two of those attributes. At 28 years old, I was jobless, but I still had to pay for all the toys I'd accumulated with the huge paychecks from my former high paying position. As I rounded the corner of my cul-de-sac neighborhood, I saw one of those toys loom large before me in the middle of the block—my two-story, 3,600 square foot mini-mansion.
For the past three years, the value of my house had continually spiraled downward. Now, it was worth just half what I owed on it, but I was expected to pay the full amount of my $700,000 mortgage. My situation had become the norm in this town, where every day since the housing bubble burst, homeowners were abandoning their property and relocating to other states. I counted myself lucky, because only two of the 21 houses on my street were abandoned and up for sale.
I pulled into my immaculate three-car garage and took the case of wine that I'd bought on an impulse purchase inside. The house was hot and stuffy, but I didn't dare turn on the A/C. I could no longer afford the huge bills I'd run up in summers past keeping the place cool. The sorry sum I'd be getting from unemployment in a couple of weeks was a joke. If I didn't get a job soon, I'd have to pick and choose which bills to pay. Should I pay my entire monthly mortgage bill, and dip into my meager 401K earnings to buy food, and let the repo man come take my SUV away? Or should I stop paying on the house so that I could make the Range payments along with all the other bills and still buy food? Until I got a decent paying job, those were the dilemmas I faced. But the prospect of finding lucrative employment in this failing town was daunting.
I loaded up my huge side-by-side stainless steel Sub Zero fridge with the wine. Not much else was on the shelves. Before I lost my job, I'd never eaten at home much, and I'd never been a big drinker. Then again, I'd never had so much free time on my hands. I opened a half empty bottle of Moscato that was already chilled, and poured myself a generous glass. Then I grabbed a Zip Loc freezer bag, filled it with ice, closed it up, wrapped it in a towel and headed for the great room.
It was a bit cooler in here, because I'd left the ceiling fan on. Kicking my flip-flops off, I sat down on the sofa and sipped my wine while drying and cooling different parts of my sweaty body with the ice-filled towel.
Ding Dong.
“Go away, I didn't want any, even when I could afford to buy whatever nonsense it is you're selling,” I yelled. It was ridiculous really, because I couldn't be heard from here through the thick walls of this house.
Ding Dong...Ding Dong, Ding Dong, Ding Dong, Ding Dong...
What the hell? I threw the towel on the glass cocktail table and marched to the door, wine glass in hand. I pulled the knob and swung the door wide open without even looking in the peephole.
“Why are you playing with my doorbell like—”
“Because I knew you were home.”
It was my annoying next-door neighbor, Ryan Stevens. He was holding my filthy white Persian cat, Ms. Wiggles, who, true to her name, was wiggling like crazy trying to get free. The sight of that brawny man holding my frou frou puffball cat was so comical, I had to cover my mouth with my free hand to hide the smirk forming there. Making matters worse, my mind instantly formed one of those Lol Cat lines—you know, from the “I haz cheezeburger series” that's grossed its lucky creators millions of dollars. So my cat's line was, “I see London, I see France, I seez a man who hatez puzzy on hez handz.” Despite my attempts to suppress a giggle, I unleashed peals of laughter.
“Would you take yo' damn cat, Lonnie? I don't know why you find this so amusing. Third time this month I've saved this fur ball from being eaten alive by my pit bull or these damn coyotes.”
I reached out to take Ms. Wiggles off his hands, but before I could touch her, she leaped down and ran past me into the house. Regaining my composure, I looked Ryan in the eyes.
“Thank you,” I said, coldly, reluctantly, and insincerely.
“Yeah, whatever. I know you don' t mean it, but I meant it when I said I was sorry for killing yo' tree.”
“Goodbye, Ryan.” I slammed the heavy wood door in his face.
I could hear his muffled, angry reply through the thick double doors. “You need to nail those screens shut or keep your windows closed so your cat don't get out again. I accidentally killed your tree, but when my dog or a coyote gets that cat, that death won't be no accident!”
“Asshole!” I whispered under my breath.
I knew he was right about my cat, and I'd meant to do something to secure the second story screens she escaped through, but I didn't have a ladder tall enough to reach them. In times past, I would have simply hired someone else to do it, but now I didn't have the funds. I wasn't about to share that information with his cocky, opinionated ass, though. Ryan had already made it known that he thought I was foolish to live in a house this size, when I really only needed one like his—which was a mere 1500 square feet.
You're probably wondering how I could be so ungrateful, right? I mean, so what if the man is opinionated, he saved my cat multiple times. Well he needed to do something to repay me for all the suffering he'd put me through. Come on! What if you lived next door to a person who loved their dog so much, they let it bark incessantly throughout the night? Would you put up with that shit for an entire year? And yes, damn it! I complained, but he didn't do much to end the problem. I even offered to get him one of those anti-bark collars that deliver a mild static-like shock to the dog's throat whenever he barks. But no, his dog-loving ass said that was inhumane torture.
Wait a minute, that's not the only problem I've had with that nightmare neighbor from hell. Listen to this. The company I work for planted young trees in my neighborhood to maximize profit, but I paid extra to have two mature olive trees planted in my back yard to shade my house from the scorching sun. Some of the branches of one tree extended over into his yard. He complained that the olives were making a mess of his patio, and his dog was eating them and getting sick. So I had the gardener spray the trees with a chemical that suppressed it from producing olives. Of course, that wasn't enough. Ryan demanded that I have the gardener trim the branches that extended over to his property, because now the falling leaves were a nuisance! When I pointed out that, according to our homeowner's association bylaws, it was his duty to trim those branches, he butchered them and killed the tree! He says he didn't do it on purpose. Nonetheless, I won the case against him that I brought to the homeowner's board. He had to pay me the full value of the tree, which was quite a sum since it was fully grown.
“Ms. Wiggles? Here kitty, kitty.” I spotted her under the coffee table cleaning her fur. I sat back down on the sofa, and resumed drinking my wine and cooling my body off.
As the alcohol seeped into my brain, I thought about the day Ryan had moved in. It was about a year ago. At the time, I had already been living in my house for almost two years. Of all the houses in the cul-de-sac, his was the last one sold, so I was thrilled to finally have neighbors in every home. I was also thrilled that he was so fine. I'd watched him unload his things from a pickup truck, and the sight of him made me feel all tingly.
It had been a hot summer day then, too, and he'd taken off his shirt. What a gorgeous sight to behold. All those tattoos on his firm, bulging, sweaty muscles flexing and rippling with every move. Even with that glistening bald head, he looked no more than 30 years old. I wondered what the muscle between his legs was like. I hadn't seen a man who made my kitty so wet in a long time. I decided to take him a tall cold glass of sweet tea and offer my assistance. I wanted to get to know this hunky, beautiful ebony man, and find out if he was worthy.
“Hello. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Hi.”
“Today is a sizzler, isn't it? I'm Kaylani Reynolds. I made you some sweet tea to help cool you off.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the welcome and the tea.”
Ryan reached out and took the glass from my hand, then downed the tea in just a few huge gulps. I watched and wondered what those sexy lips would feel like covering both sets of mine. He had a soft looking jet-black mustache, long lashes, and thick tame eyebrows. And he smelled like Old Spice, freshly mowed grass, and sweat. I inhaled deeply, unable to get enough of his scent.
“Ahhhh. That hit the spot. Sorry to be so rude. I didn't even introduce myself yet.”
He put his hand out to shake mine, while slyly assessing my body from head to toe, making me wet between my thighs. I could tell that my new neighbor found me 100% appealing.
“Kaylani, huh? I'm Ryan Stevens.”
“You weren't being rude at all. Nice to meet you, Ryan. You can call me Lonnie. Is there anything I can help you with that's not too heavy?” I grinned and flexed my little biceps.
“You've already helped me with the tea. How about I return the favor later? I was planning to throw some steaks on the grill to reward myself for all this hard work. If you're not too busy, maybe you could join me.”
“That would be nice. What can I bring?
“Just bring yourself. Is 7 o'clock good for you?”
“Yes. I'll see you then.”
I took the glass from his hands, and nearly dropped it as our fingers touched for the second time. Ryan pretended not to notice the effect he had on me. I strolled across the lawn in my cuffed white short shorts, low-back halter-top, and 4-inch platform sandals, keenly aware of his eyes scanning my body. I was so nervous, it was a wonder I didn't wobble and sprain my ankle.
Later at his place, Ryan impressed me with his amazing culinary skills, and great choice of music. I liked all kinds of music, but the guys I'd dated in the past were usually huge rap fans. So I was pleased to hear smooth jazz flowing from the hidden backyard speakers. And Ryan already had all of his furniture set up inside and out. It was still hot outside, but two fans attached to the patio awning blew down on us from above, providing relief from the heat.
“You sure settled in fast. I like how you've set things up,” I said, as I sat down in the well-cushioned patio chair he'd pulled out for me. His old fashioned Sears/Eddie Bauer decor wouldn't have been my choice. It reminded me of my mother's furnishings, but it was comfortable and looked brand new.
“I just stored the rest of the boxes in the garage. I'll go through them every day until I have everything unpacked.”
“Those steaks are making my mouth water.” The lid to the Weber grill was closed, but aromatic smoke poured out of the few vents that were open on top.
“Good. I only use mesquite wood instead of charcoal. It gives the meat this naturally smoky flavor. I hope you brought your appetite, because I made some southern dishes to go with it. There's brown sugar baked beans, yams, cornbread, and collard greens. Save room for the peach cobbler.”
“Where in the world did you find the time to make all that food?”
Ryan laughed. “I came over here yesterday and started setting up the kitchen. Some of my friends already told me they plan to drop in on me while I'm off this week, so I took the opportunity to cook some things up in advance. Anyway, the baked beans, yams, and collards taste better the day after they're cooked.
“It sounds like you know what you're doing.”
“Don't tell me you've never met a man who likes to cook.”
“Okay, I won't tell you.”
“You're funny. Truth is, my father liked to cook, too. He'd join my mother in the kitchen, and sometimes, they'd trade off so she could get a break. Now, seeing as I've not found a woman to share my kitchen with yet, I'm lucky I know how to cook for myself.”
“Well, I don't have any skills in that direction.”
“You've never learned how to cook?” He looked incredulous.
“No. I mean, I know how to heat up frozen foods, boil water for pasta, and make a boxed mac and cheese, but I don't make anything from scratch.”
“Woman, how do you eat that tasteless stuff? I know what it's like, because I've had to eat it from time to time when it's been served to me at a friends place, but I'd never eat it by choice.”
“Of course I prefer freshly prepared dishes, which is why I eat out a lot. There are plenty of restaurants in Vegas that serve fresh food that doesn't come from a box or a freezer.”
“Okay. I apologize if I've offended you. It's just that, more and more I've been meeting women who don't cook. And most of them aren't from the south.”
“I have other skills outside of the kitchen.”
“No doubt.” Ryan grinned slyly. Damn, the man was a feast for the eyes.
He served me a glass of Cabernet, and proceeded to tell me all about himself. He was new to Las Vegas, and had transferred here a year ago at his employer's request. Before buying his house, he'd rented a small condo near the strip. Despite the fact that he'd never attended college, he had a great paying job in land acquisitions for a big cell phone company.
“Tell me more about your family,” I said.
“My parents still live in South Carolina, where I was born and raised. So do my older brother and younger sister. I've got cousins, uncles, aunts, and two grandparents still alive there, too.”
“South Carolina? Why is it you have barely a trace of southern accent?” I asked.
“Just because I'm black and from the south, doesn't mean I should automatically have a country accent.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you.”
“That's okay. It's just that, you're not the first person here to ask me that question. So, what about your family? Do they live nearby?”
“My mother lives in Henderson and we talk and see each other often. I was an only child in a single parent household. I have other relatives in New York, but they disowned my mother when she was 16 and pregnant with me. She chose to keep me when they tried to force her to have an abortion.”
“Wow. That's a hard knock.”
“Yes it is and I never want that kind of life for my own kids.”
“Oh. You have kids?”
I laughed nervously. “No, but eventually I would like to. I'm only 27 so I don't want to think about kids yet.”
“Why not? I'm 28, and if I'd met the right woman I'd already be a father.”
“Well that's your choice. There's a lot I want to accomplish in my career before I start a family.”
“So it's just you in that huge house? What are you, a dancer, or some type of entertainer?”
“Why would you think I was a dancer?”
He looked embarrassed. “I couldn't help noticing how fit you are, and the way you walked across that lawn in those high heels—so...gracefully.”
“No, I'm not a dancer, but I've studied dance since I was in high school. I didn't see a future in it, though. I work for Kirkrich.”
“You mean the company that built our houses?”
“Yes, that's the one.”
“So, you must do something pretty high powered over there, unless you come from money.”
“I'm an architect. I designed all the homes in this community.”
“You're serious?”
“You look like you aren't buying it. Yes, I'm serious.”
“Sorry, I just didn't know it was possible to have such a high level position at such a young age.”
“Well, it is possible, it's just not the norm. I graduated high school when I was just 16, then entered undergrad—”
“Oh, you're one of those child prodigy types. I'm impressed. So the only person you have to support on that big paycheck you bring home is you, and you probably help your mother out. See, I have a whole lot of people back home who need my help. I'm happy to be able to help them out, too.”
Instead of listening to Ryan talk, I was letting my eyes roam every inch of his 6’4” frame. From his big, well-manicured feet, to his six pack abs and lean muscled chest. I wondered what it would be like to feel his strong arms around me, hands roaming my body, dick hitting my g-spot. He was the hottest man I'd ever laid eyes on. It didn't help that I hadn't been fucked in over a year. I wanted him to fuck me.
Tuning back in, I realized Ryan was talking about how modern women worked so much that they neglected their homes, didn't know how to cook, and wouldn't clean. Whatever. I didn't give a shit about his cave man view of the modern woman, because my pussy was thinking for me. The man and the wine had me open. I wasn't going to make the first move, but if Ryan so much as touched me with one pinky, I would ride his fine body until the sun set and came up again. I got up and walked over to the inviting, black bottom pool. Kicking off a flip-flop, I dipped the toes of one foot in and stirred the water around.
“You wanna go for a swim? Or are you one of those sisters that doesn't get her hair wet?”
“I'd like to, but aren't those steaks almost ready?” He was right about my hair, but I wasn't about to tell him.
“Right. I'll serve 'em up over here. You just sit down and put your legs in. We can swim later.”
“Okay.” I sat down with my second glass of wine and let my legs float on the water while Ryan went about fixing our plates. It was nice to have a man cater to me.
“Here you go, sexy legs.”
Ryan handed me a plate full of food, then sat down next to me with his own plate. Without warning, he leaned in and kissed me on the lips.
“Sorry. I had to see what it felt like to kiss your beautiful lips.”
“How did it feel?”
“He put his plate down. “As hungry as I am for this food, I could skip it and eat you all night.”
I could not believe what I'd just heard, but now that I knew Ryan was feeling what I was feeling, it was on! I set my plate down, too, and leaned into him, savoring the feel of his thick lips on mine. He slipped his tongue into my mouth and I sucked on it. Mmmmmmm. He tasted like peaches and cinnamon. I reluctantly ended the kiss, and began feeding him the food from his plate. He took my plate up and started feeding me, too. Between bites, our lips met again and again.
“Ahem. Hey, man. Sorry to crash the party,” a husky male voice interrupted our kissing and feeding fest.
Ryan hopped up. “Chaz! What's good, bro?” They shook hands. “This is my new neighbor, Lonnie. Lonnie, this is my co-worker, Chaz.”
I was both embarrassed as hell for being caught kissing someone I'd clearly known only for a short time, and pissed off at being interrupted.
“Hi, Chaz. Nice meeting you.”
Of course Ryan invited Chaz to stay for dinner, and I would have thought he was a complete ass if he hadn't. Still, I wanted to be alone with him. That feeling changed as the evening wore on. I was the topic of conversation, as both men questioned me about my day-to-day life. Okay, so I was living pretty large. I always had the latest, trendiest fashions, my hair was always fly, my nails were always done, and although I didn't let it out to play often, my kitty was always trimmed and waxed. I loved to have monthly facials and massages. They asked me about how many designer handbags and shoes I owned.
Dinner was delicious, but those brothers grilled me to the point that I got a bad taste in my mouth. They hardly knew me. Yet, I could tell they judged me by what Ryan called my “bougie” lifestyle. There was no way I could get involved with a man who didn't appreciate me. By the time the evening was over, I was relieved that Chaz had interrupted and prevented me from riding Ryan's pipe, which by my estimation from seeing it rise earlier, was long and thick.
Chaz left after he and I helped Ryan clean the kitchen. I headed for the door, too, but Ryan held me back.
“You sure you don't wanna stay for dessert?” I knew he meant the peach cobbler, but I could tell from the big bulge in his shorts that wasn't the only dessert he planned to offer me.
“No, but thank you so much for dinner. It was delicious,” I said, as I walked toward the door.
He escorted me, and when we got to his front porch, he tried to kiss my lips again, but I quickly turned and his lips just brushed my cheek.
Thereafter, his attitude changed. He became cool towards me. We never had any long discussions again, and whenever I'd see him outside his house, all he'd give me was a simple, gruff, “Good morning,” or “Hello.” He'd never ask how I was doing, and if I asked him, he would just say, “I'm good, thanks.” That would be the end of it.
About 2 months after our dinner, Ryan bought the pit bull and things really went downhill between us. I think he got the dog just to annoy me. He did other things that annoyed me too, like hosting loud poker parties, and having sex outside in his backyard. Okay, so I was more turned on by his outdoor sexcapades than I was annoyed by them.
The first time I heard him out there was on Halloween, after all the trick-or-treaters in the neighborhood had long ceased ringing my doorbell. Giggles floated up into my bedroom window. I thought some older kids were out playing pranks, but when I looked down, I could see two adults in Ryan's backyard dressed in costumes. I knew that the man in the Hugh Hefner style smoking jacket was Ryan, because his bald ebony head shone in the moonlight. The woman, who was dressed in a Playboy bunny costume, was as pale as the moon. She thrust her ass out toward Ryan's crotch and humped up and down against him while he embraced her from behind, kissing her neck. I ran and grabbed a pair of binoculars.
When I returned to the window, Ryan had the woman laid out on a lounge chair by the pool with her legs wide open. Through the binoculars, I could see him nibbling at her inner thighs, working his way up to her pussy. He helped her remove her strapless bunny suit. Then, extending one long, shapely leg, she flung the outfit off of her stiletto-clad foot. Blood rushed to my cheeks, and to my clit. I was turned on by the scene before me.
The woman didn't have a speck of hair on her pussy. Ryan dove in. Soon the woman was moaning, sliding her fingers over his bald head as he thrashed it up and down and side to side. She draped her legs over his shoulders and flexed her feet so that her heels didn't dig into his back.
“Ahhhhhh, uhhhhhhhhh, uhhhhhhhhh. Ooooooh, Ryan. Ooooooh. Uhhhhhhhhh.”
He lifted her ass in his hands and massaged it between his fingers. Unconsciously, I slipped my fingers into my panties and stroked my clit, never taking my eyes off of the steamy action in my neighbor's backyard. I pretended it was me Ryan was feasting on, instead of the sexy white blonde.
Ryan stopped and stood up. The blonde whined, “Oh baby, come back, please, come back.”
“Oh I'm not through with you yet.” He flashed his dashing smile at her. Then stripped out of his costume. As he came out of his boxers, I gasped and dropped the binoculars on sight of his big, beautiful dick. I quickly ducked down. I could hear the lovers going at it some more, so I knew it was safe to come up and look out again. Grabbing the binoculars, I peered out, and resumed playing with my clit. I couldn't see Ryan's gorgeous dick anymore, because he was kneeling between his lover's legs again. But I had a nice side view of his round, sculpted ass.
As the woman began to moan and buck up against Ryan's face, I stroked my clit faster, faster, then finger fucked my pussy—all the while imagining how Ryan's tongue would feel all over and all up inside of me. My clear, slimy juice coated my fingers and ran down my inner thighs.
“Ryaaaaan! Yeeaaaaah! Mmmmm. Yeeeeeaaaas! Oh fuuuuuuuck! Ryaaaaan! Oooooooooh...ooooooooh...fuuuuuuuck!”
The blonde was cumming, and so was I. She was screaming Ryan's name, and so was I—only, my screams were silent. Oh my, God. I couldn't believe how good my pussy felt. I could feel the intense spasms as my creamy cum surged forth and coated my hand.
Now, the woman was sitting up, taking Ryan's beautiful cock between her lips. I licked my lips and slurped some saliva that was dripping out of the corner back into my mouth. I wished it were my lips on that delicious looking work of art. It was long and thick, with just the hint of an upward curve. The tip was thick, too. I wanted to suck it back, deep into my throat, lick the ridge just underneath the head, pull on the tip with my lips, and mouth each one of his generous balls. Instead, the blonde was doing all of those things.
Ryan's head was tilted back. His hand caressed her chin. He looked like African royalty. I reached over and dug my Lexington Steele replica dick out of my bedside table and slipped it between my soaking wet pussy lips.
“Fuck me, Ryan.” I whispered. “Fuck me with that awesome dick, baby.” I plunged the dildo in and out of my dripping pussy wishing it was Ryan's warm, thick dick. Oh how I hated that blonde bitch for doing what I should be doing right now.
“Meeeeoooow. Meeeeooooow.” Ms. Wiggles snapped me out of my daydream about Ryan's Halloween fuck fest, and back to reality.
“Right kitty. I need to forget about Ryan's sexy, Neanderthal ass and find a job.”
Ms. Wiggles was on my lap all clean and white again, and purring up a storm. I thought about my job options in this town. There was nothing available in my profession. In fact, most of the positions were for cocktail waitresses, taxi and limo drivers, and dancers, also known as strippers. Instantly, a light bulb went on in my head. Curious, I pulled my laptop out from under the sofa and got online to see what those positions paid. Ms. Wiggles vehemently voiced her displeasure at losing her seat.
“I'm sorry baby, you can sit next to Mommy.” I patted the cushion next to me, but she strode off to the kitchen, snapping her tail to and fro like a whip to further express her discontent.
“Oh my God. Stripping pays almost as much as designing homes and businesses!” I said aloud.
I put my laptop down, got up and started imitating some of the moves I'd learned in the pole dancing class I'd been taking at the gym for the past six months. I started to slip because I was very tipsy, and I landed on the floor in a full split. I was very flexible thanks to all those years of dancing in high school and college, and at the gym.
“You can't be serious about this, Lonnie,” I chided myself. I was really giving some thought to applying for one of the many “dancer” positions I saw advertised on the Internet. I could work on the outskirts of town where the people I knew wouldn't be likely to show up.
Even after I sobered up, the thought of working at a strip club stayed on my mind. I called my Mom, hoping she could help me figure out what to do.
“Honey, you never have to strip for a living. You know you can move in with me if you have to.”
“Mom, I can't do that to you and your sweetheart.” Aaron was her new live in man, and there was no way I was going to plant myself in their tiny love nest.
Two days later, I auditioned for a club called Neon, and I got the job. While I missed working as an architect, the stripping gig turned out to be just what I needed. I never realized I was such a freak. I got off on seeing all those men so turned on by my every move. I held so much power over their minds, their dicks, and their wallets—which they happily emptied out into my g-string every night. Thanks to my sexy dancing skills, I was able to do more than just pay the bills. I made more money now than I'd ever made as an architect. To think I'd spent all that time in school to earn the big bucks, when all I really had to do was get on the pole.
I loved seeing women come in with their men. It was such a turn on to watch them kissing and looking at me all at the same time. And the women seemed to get off on making it rain on me. I got so much money in tips from these horny ladies, and sometimes, I'd even get a slap on my ass or a titty bounce. The men were never allowed to touch me this way, and Lorenzo, the club's 300-pound bouncer, stood close by to make sure it never happened.
The club owners asked me if I wanted to make extra money doing lap dances, but I declined. Some of the men were dirty looking, overweight, bald, and disgusting. I just couldn't imagine being that close to them. And I heard stories from the other strippers who did do lap dances. They were constantly being propositioned with offers to do sexual favors for more money outside the club. I didn't judge those that engaged in such activities, but it didn't appeal to me. Not that I didn't find some of the male patrons sexy, but I feared the potential negative consequences of an encounter outside the club.
One night a boisterous, big-tipping group of men came in. I came out in a glittering pink bikini and stripped to the dirty version of Akon's song, I Wanna Fuck You. Yeah, forget about love. The men who came in here just wanted to fuck. Stripping to the nasty anthem, I drove them wild when I slowly took off my top, shook my perky 36D tits at them, and grinded my body on the golden pole.
“Damn, I'd like to bag you up, baby. Got a brotha wanting to marry you,” one of the men hollered out.
“Shut up, Mike, you already married,” said another man in the group.
“That's okay. We can move to Utah or Africa. I can have more than one wife there, right?” All of the men roared with laughter.
Bright lights shone in my eyes making it impossible for me to see them, but that helped me focus on my moves. In 5-inch high fuck me heels, I must have looked like a 6-foot Amazon woman to them as I repeatedly popped my booty down to the floor and came back to a standing position against the pole. The lights got dimmer and my vision improved. I could see that the rowdy men were attractive. Some came forward, stood and stuffed $50 and $100 into my thong. One of them was Ryan!
His eyes were full of lust, and he didn't seem to realize that it was me filling him with desire. Knowing his negative opinion of me, and how he'd been such a horrible neighbor, I decided to give him a special show. I removed my thong and flung it down at him. Spreading my legs, I gave him a full view of my pussy. I felt such an exhilarating rush of empowerment watching him get more and more turned on by me. Unlike the other, rowdy males in his group, he watched quietly, unconsciously licking his lips now and then. I started to become aroused at the sight of him, so much so that my pussy began to contract with desire. I turned my ass toward him and bounced up and down like I was riding his dick, then I did the splits, grinding my clit on the cherry wood floor beneath me, while casting a smoldering look over my shoulder at him. Ryan was in a trance, and I could tell he still didn't know it was me.
One of the men reached up and tried to touch my butt. Ryan held him back. Now, I wanted Ryan to know who I was. I arched backward and lowered my body to the floor, letting my head hang off of the edge of the stage. Looking into Ryan's sultry brown eyes, I finally saw a hint of recognition.
The men rained more money down on me, and with a final wink to Ryan and his party, I got up and left the stage as the bouncer came out to retrieve my cash and bring it to me. I knew Ryan was focused on my exit, so I walked seductively—long legs flashing, firm ass swaying to and fro.
Damn that man had me thirsty for him. I just wished he was feeling the same way. It didn't take long before my wish was fulfilled. After I showered back at my place, I heard a knock on the door. It was 3 a.m., so I was reluctant to answer. I tiptoed over and peeked through the peephole. It was Ryan. I opened the door. He took me in his arms, and kissed me deeply, letting his tongue play with mine in succulent swirls.
I pulled him inside and pushed the door closed. Our hands were all over each other. He backed me up to the living room sofa, and opened my robe. I slept in the nude, so I had nothing on underneath. I unbuttoned his shirt. The rest was a frenzy of lust as I tore his clothes off while he explored my body with his hands and mouth. I couldn't get him naked fast enough, and all I wanted was to feel him inside of me. He was so hungry for me. He acted like it had been a long time since his last sexual encounter, too. But I knew for a fact he'd just fucked an afro wearing sista in his backyard a couple of weeks ago.
He wet me down with his tongue as he worked his way from my breasts to my clit. No man had touched me like this in almost two years. His tongue moved up and down my clit, and his lips sucked at my labia, gently pulling them into his mouth where he softly bit at them. Then he plunged his tongue deep inside me. Gripping my ass in his hands and tilting me up off of the couch, he rubbed one thumb in the juices that his mouth and my pussy had created, and then he slipped it into my ass. He fucked my pussy with his tongue as he wiggled his thumb inside my ass. Suddenly, I came harder and wetter than I'd ever cum before.
“Oooooooooooooooh. Ryaaaaaannnnn! Uuuuuuuuhhhhhhh! Uuuuuuhhhhhhhh! Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh!”
I had never been a noisy lover, but now sounds rushed forth from my mouth like I was rushing down the biggest hill on a roller coaster. I lost all my cool and control. While I was still quivering with spasms, Ryan flipped me over and slipped a condom on. I looked back at him in eager anticipation. When he was done, he looked into my eyes, grabbed my meaty ass in his hands and buried his long thick dick deep inside my drenched pussy.
I gripped the back of the couch and threw my ass back at him every time he thrust toward me. He filled me to overflowing with that big cock, and now, I knew the reason why those women he fucked in his backyard screamed like they didn't give a damn who heard them. Ryan knew how to please a woman. He took my breasts in his hands and massaged them, pulling on my nipples until I moaned his name over and over. He held my breasts close together in one hand, and stroked my clit with the fingers of the other. That's when he sped things up. Our bodies clapped together as his balls jumped up repeatedly and slapped against my pussy lips. I started to cum again. But this time, Ryan was right there with me.
“Damn, Kaylani! You got me. Ohhhhhhhhhhh!”
I looked back at him. He was biting his sexy bottom lip as if he was in agony. He pulled out, and we both realized at the same time that he'd lost the condom inside of me. He tried to retrieve it, but my pussy had locked down on it. In a panic, I grabbed my robe and ran into one of the guest bathrooms. I hoped the damn condom hadn't sprung a leak.
“Lonnie?” Ryan called to me after I hadn't returned 15 minutes later.
Now that I'd gotten two long overdue orgasms with a real man, and flushed the used condom down the toilet, I was too ashamed to come out. How could I fuck my neighbor? I mean, I despised the man. I sat on the toilet seat, trying to think of how to face him. He knocked at the door.
“You all right in there?”
“Yeah. I'm just cleaning up.”
“Okay. You mind if I make some coffee?
Yes I minded! Go home. Shit! “No. Please go ahead and help yourself.”
“Are you going to join me?”
And prolong this agony? Hell no! “Sure. Just give me a few more minutes.”
“Take your time. I washed up in that little bathroom off the kitchen.”
I heard his feet padding away from me on the ebony hardwood floors. I looked at myself in the mirror. There was color in my cheeks that hadn't been there in a while. I turned on the shower, and stepped in, letting the water wash away my shame. There was nothing wrong with fucking Ryan. I'd gotten my groove on, now I would simply sit down and have a cup of coffee with him, and try to improve our neighborly relationship.
I finished my shower and dried off. Donning my robe, I went into the kitchen. Ryan was putting out two cups, and the aroma of Starbucks coffee filled the air.
He walked over to me, and put his arms around my waist. Looking into my eyes, he pressed his body into mine. Oh my God, I wanted him all over again!
“Kaylani, I've wanted you for so long,” he said, as he stroked my cheek with his thumb. He kissed me again, and it felt like the room was spinning. I pulled away, afraid of what I was feeling for this man whom I'd grown to dislike so intensely.
I sighed. “I've wanted you, too, Ryan.”
“Then, why did you reject me that night I had you over for dinner?”
“It's more like you rejected me.”
“Woman, what do you mean? I don't think I could have been more clear about how much I wanted you then.”
“I knew you wanted to fuck me. You wanted my body, but you didn't want me.”
“You never gave me the chance to show you. Who wouldn't want you? You're sexy, smart, and you've got it going on financially.”
“Yes, but I knew you just wanted to hit it and quit it.”
“Is that what you thought?”
I stepped back and pulled a stool out from the breakfast bar. Sitting down, I said, “Well, now you finally got what you wanted. I'm okay. I needed this, too.”
Ryan walked over and grabbed my arm. “What the hell? So you're saying, this is just a booty call to you?”
I pulled my arm away and stared at him with hostility. “Oh, and it's not just a booty call to you? Or, have you changed your mind about me now that I strip for a living? I'm good enough for you now, but I wasn't back then.”
“Lonnie, the only problem I've ever had with you is that you need to downsize that ego of yours. You've always come at me like you had something to prove. Like you were saying, ‘Hey, look at me. I don't need a man to love me, because I can take care of myself with my high-powered job, huge ride, and big mansion’.”
“So, I was right. You're just here because you think since my career was downsized, my self-confidence is downsized, too? You know what? Get the hell out, Ryan!”
He gripped both my shoulders and forced me to meet his gaze. “I'm not going anywhere until you understand me. What you do for a living has nothing to do with my feelings for you. I'm in love with you, Lonnie.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I said it. I love you. Every time I've laid eyes on you over this past year, I've felt myself falling more and more in love with you. I didn't want this to happen, because I could tell that you didn't think I was good enough for you—”
I kissed him mid-sentence. I didn't need to hear anything more. Now that my ego was downsized, I could finally reap the rewards of loving my neighbor.
-- Be on the lookout for Kaylani and Ryan’s full story in Downsized! Coming soon!--
The KWEEN
I’ve learned that the Cosmos’ job is to make a fool of us whom say “never”. The Universe does this in-your-face, echoed guffaw at the things we claim eternal abstinence from. I promised I’d never marry, never have kids, never have a threesome, never live for my man, and yet here I stand—a laughable punch line in a string of “nevers”.
“Azure...I want a divorce,” he said. This was the man that wanted (and received) the world from me. I didn’t want to marry. “Azure, I love you enough to give you my name; a sense of security that no fly-by-night ‘relationship’ can offer. I’m offering you my entire world and a God-given guarantee that I’m not going anywhere.” Like a fool, I caved. I should’ve listened to my instincts. Maybe not to marry, but not to marry his ass.
I wanted no part of being a mother. Afraid of being less of a mom than my own, I fought my husband on conceiving. Why should I bring a child into this already unpredictable world with a mother who was as wavering as the sea’s temperament? In my eyes, the epitome of motherhood was Nereid Patterson, my mom. No way would I give less to a child of mine.
I always felt so fearful when thinking of having kids. My mother seemed to do everything right for us kids, and I had been so selfish in my recent years I wasn’t sure I was ready to forsake my self-gluttony for humans that never stop needing. Yet, almost three years into the relationship and barely two into the marriage, I was pregnant with our son, Dylan, Jr. Barely a year later Coral would be born—right in the midst of Big D’s “season of curiosity”. I always wondered why men who present a case worthy for a defense trial in the name of threesomes with another woman aren’t as willing to accept her fantasy of being taken by two men. They’re not so “open” when they’ve got to smack balls with the guy of her choice—who also just so happens to be plunging his bigger dick into his wife.
Without question or blinking his almond eyes, my fantasy got shut down! His? Realized—thrice. Yes, he loved her head game so much that he asked for this...this...Melissa Ford look-a-like, to come back for more. The summer of Coral’s first birthday, my husband presented this video vixen prototype to me with the hunger of a lion. It was as if he was asking me to let another lioness into our den. I eventually consented.
The Threesome
We sent the kids to my sister’s and set up the house for a romantic tryst with “Melissa”. I nervously soaked in a bath of lavender salts and jasmine oil to relax my mind and body. While soaking, I calmed my throbbing center down with a gentle stroking, a warm-up for the night’s menagerie. I closed my eyes and agitated my clit with long dips inside of me until my cum mixed with the warm waters between my thighs. I moisturized with a favorite citrus-scented oil of mine and lay as still as possible across the bed until D called me downstairs to greet “Melissa”.
When she entered dressed drastically different than the “meeting”, I all of a sudden felt self-conscious. Only a year had passed since having Coral and my body issues rose to the surface like driftwood. When I’d laid eyes on her the first time, she was wearing a loose-fitting maxi dress cinched with a big belt and her hair pulled away from her face. I could see that she was proportioned nicely, but I didn’t know what was underneath it all. When she walked in and disrobed from the three-quarter’s-length overcoat she’d worn, my jaw extended downward—as did my own eyes over my own body.
She was wearing a lace bra set in D’s favorite color, red. Her perfect C’s needed no assistance. I’m sure bras are for visual tasting only. Those full tits of hers moved down into the tiniest waist, tightest abs, and onto the fullest hips, I’d seen on a woman to date. When she circled to release her arm from the coat, an ass—surely made in a Weird Science lab of my husband’s dreams—moved only with her legs extending motions. The curve of the arch in her back was nothing short of an artist’s own laborious chiseling from ebon stone.
Again, I glanced downward at my jiggly thighs, baby pooch and slightly sagging D’s. The only thing I could compete with was the beauty of my mama’s genes, in that I had no stretch marks and a smooth even skin tone.
Her hair was beautiful, deep-waved and framing her heart-shaped face, falling below her shoulders. Instantly I was envious. Here I stood, my damaged, frizzy, dirty-blondish albeit long hair struggling in a loose ponytail. My see-through cover-up over a pale yellow bra set was becoming less see-through and more invisible by the moment....
“Azure...are you okay?” D asked me.
I said yes and we went upstairs where our bedroom was decked out in lavish materials. I’d found sari fabric and had draped them romantically over the window’s treatments and placed a few over the small settee in our room. Candles lit, toys laid out and wine chilled, awaiting this once exclusively marital space, now ready for my husband’s fantastical debauchery.
D went into the bathroom to undress while leaving his dream girl and I sitting awkwardly on the settee. She seemingly waited for him to shut the door to begin speaking.
“Melissa” asked me, “What do YOU want, Azure? I know this is D’s fantasy, but I can’t lie, I only agreed to this to be with you. He’s not even my type. I actually like thicker guys, you know, like Ice Cube? Anthony Anderson, even.”
I laughed involuntarily and she smiled. “No seriously...I need a weighty man. Your husband is too chiseled for me....”
We both laughed. She then ran her hand over my face and down my neck to my breast. My back straightened and my breasts rose and fell deeply, leaving tingles along my skin. I almost closed my eyes to give her unspoken assent to do what she pleased. Just then, D entered, oiled and wearing a white pair of boxer briefs. I jumped a little; ”Melissa” just smirked.
“I’m glad you two are getting comfortable,” he said, cockily.
Immediately, “Melissa” took control. D was all of a sudden in her trance and we were marionettes to her puppet mastery.
“D, I’d like to see Azure get more comfortable. Can you take that cover-up off of her...slowly?”
D responded. I almost got jealous. I only wished his ass moved that fast when I asked him to do something. D slid his hands under the waist-length cover and slid it seductively up and over my head.
“Melissa” then said, “D, can I see how you get Azure in the mood?”
D laughed a little and said, “Sure...but, I thought you were going to join us...?”
“I will. But I’ve done this a few times before and the art of a beautiful threesome is me joining you two already in progress; not the other way around.”
D, in awe of her take-charge seductress form, nodded and looked deeply at me. I saw a need for this. I wondered why. It felt like this was less fantasy and more power trip—or just a dip into the power of his tip. Did marriage spoil his natural “hunter instincts” and soften his primal desires. Was “Melissa” an exercise in a man’s primordial right to have more than one? Either way, his eyes pleaded, “Do this for me?”
At that moment something swirled up in me and I became fearless. My shakes went away and I laid back and spread my legs. I traced my fingertips along my stomach and down into my pale yellow panties as he watched the impression of my fingers dance around the outside of my entrance. D licked his lips and began slowly kissing up my thighs.
“Melissa” positioned herself to get the best angle of us while she freed her beautiful breasts. D—occupied with following instruction—was missing her strip tease; her strip tease for me. She licked her lips and took each of her own nipples into her mouth. Unconsciously, I began rubbing my own. D had found his way to my inner thigh and had begun nuzzling my panties’ fabric with his nose. He loved to do this. He slid the fabric to the side and dipped his tongue into the dark wetness and slurped his way to hardness.
In the meantime, ”Melissa” had slipped out of her underwear and had propped one leg onto the chest at the end of our bed. She showed me her folds, evenly cocoa-colored with pink highlights toward the center. I could see the glistening teardrop forming at the opening. She was getting excited by watching me, and I, too, was beginning to get unusually damp.
D was slurping, humming and moaning, enjoying the fruits of “Melissa’s” influence. He looked up at me barely and said, “Damn, baby...you’re wetter than ever...” and continued feeding himself with my milkiness.
I freed my breasts, golden-yellow with cocoa aureoles and hardened pea-sized nipples. I massaged them feverishly as “Melissa” kept eye contact with me, and a steady stroking rhythm on her wet pet. Her pet was loudly purring with swishes of clear stickiness. I licked my lips as she stirred her hips for me. I nodded yes, and she silently knew what I wanted. She climbed onto the bed softly, causing D to stir from his feasting. He smiled and went back between my legs.
“Melissa” licked, massaged, and pulled my nipples with her teeth then sucked hard on my breast. A little milk released but she kept sucking. She was enjoying my milk a little too much, so I pushed her head away. She smiled and then kissed me deeply; better than D ever had. She pecked me one last time before giving me her nipples to suckle.
I tried to swallow her, her skin so soft, and her raised nipples fitting perfectly inside my mouth. The scent of her tickled my senses—something sweet, Juicy Couture, maybe?
She retreated from my pull, but only to sit on my face. I’d never tasted another woman, just my own juices. The air around me got dense with the scent of chocolate, later to be discovered as a chocolate body creme she’d used. Well, between that and the creamy, almost peach flavor of her, I drank her like she was flavored coffee.
D looked up and was astonished at the sight. He was thrown by the ease in which I’d begun delving into her, as if I’d done it before. He got so excited he took my panties all the way off and entered me swiftly. He slid his arms around “Melissa’s” body, cupping her breasts and tweaking her nipples as she bucked onto my tongue. He couldn’t have been inside of me for a minute before I gushed all over him. He stroked until he returned the favor, and before long, “Melissa’s” cum had coated my throat; me enjoying it all.
She got up and bent over, and my husband slid his dick into her. His eyes rolled back and his pecs flexed as he felt new pussy for the first time in almost four years.
She looked back at him and said, “No slow strokes mothafucka. Long, hard and fast!”
D complied and fucked her so hard that I think she wished she hadn’t requested it. D was no slouch, his thickness was compromising the tightness of her depth and she wasn’t screaming in passion anymore. She didn’t tell him to stop, but I could tell when she went from taking it like a champ to re-adjusting herself to take him all in.
I saw her nipples rise hard and decided to suck them some more as D was ramming into her. I lay down backward underneath her to play with those mounds of hers, and she took initiative to finger around in my wet spot. She kissed and licked my belly while making my insides twitch. She came first, all over D’s dick, me second, from her finger play, and D last, all over “Melissa’s” back.
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