Leftovers With Benefits: An Interracial Contemporary Romance

by C. L. Donley

  It’s just oral sex, you’ll be fine, his penis insisted. The “thought” amused him. He got the feeling his penis didn’t care about his mental state. It was nice to see his libido again, he had to admit. Kenya started up the stairs and he followed.

  “Where are we going?” Kevin asked nervously.

  He’d only been over a handful of times, but he knew there were no bedrooms upstairs.

  “Upstairs,” Kenya answered, not following his train of thought.

  “Not… in the bedroom?”

  “What? No, I sleep in there,” she replied, as if it were obvious.

  When they got to the top floor she directed him towards the small living area that faced the dining room and kitchen. He sat down beside her on the couch and instantly she was unfastening his pants with shaky hands.

  Okay, this was happening. He raised his arms as if being frisked, trying to keep calm and catch his breath.

  Sex had become a challenge of mental fortitude. His PTSD constantly threatened to take over. The better it was, the worse it got. He was like the Hulk.

  Once she got his light blue Levi’s successfully unzipped she thought it best to get on her knees in front of him.

  “You can still back out of this if you want,” Kevin panted.

  “I don’t want.”

  “You’re shaking.”

  “Of course, I’m shaking, I don’t do this shit every day.”

  “That floor’s gotta be killing your knees.”

  “Stop stalling, Kevin.”

  Kevin took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, as though suffering through an uncomfortable doctor’s visit. He pulled his trousers down a bit until she could free his member from both his jeans and his boxers. While his cock kept jumping in clear anticipation, he shut his eyes and drew his lips together tight.

  “Oh wow,” he heard Kenya say. He pretended he was a couch cushion.

  “That’s a wicked curve you got on ya there, Kevin.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Not a compliment exactly, but…”

  He felt her hot breath and his lips parted. Suddenly a cold gust of wind forced him to open his eyes.

  “You were right,” Kenya sighed, “My knees are in shambles.”

  Kenya got up gingerly and headed across the room.

  He suddenly noticed she was wearing fuzzy slippers. In fact, everything she was wearing was fuzzy. Her robe, her pajama bottoms. He realized he’d crashed into her morning off, asking for blowjobs.

  She disappeared into a hall closet where he heard rummaging. He was left alone in the living area, staring down at his own erect cock, now cowering a bit in shame.

  “What are you doing?” he projected.

  “Looking for something,” she shouted back.

  “For what?”

  “We redid the bathroom last year… got ‘em!”

  Kenya re-emerged with black canvas knee pads held triumphantly in one hand.

  Dear God, he thought, as she bent down to fit them over her fuzzy blue cloud pattern pajama bottoms.

  “Safety first!” Kenya lilted. It was perhaps the first joke he’d ever heard from her and let himself chuckle a bit.

  “All good?” he grinned.

  She let out a sigh of relief as she returned to her position.

  “Sorry about that. I was afraid I would have to stop in the middle.”

  “That… would’ve been okay,” he absent-mindedly said as he watched Kenya take him into her hand and rub his tip along her tongue.

  His heart went into overdrive so fast he nearly felt cold. The sensations were overwhelming, almost traumatic.

  He hadn’t had a blowjob in… a long fuckin’ time. He dreamed about it once. He got so worked up about it he snapped awake in misery. But this was no dream. And his body was in turmoil trying to catch up, blood traveling the underused highways of his groin in a panic.

  His one hand gripped the top of the couch, the other a nearby pillow as she slowly worked him into a frenzy. He noticed her eyes were closed, her long lashes drawn thickly like a curtain and she looked to be enjoying herself. The sight of her dark slender fingers wrapped around his pale shaft made it impossible to look away. The fingers released their grip and rested against the base of him, grazing his balls as she took more of his length into her mouth. Kevin was dunked lower into a pool of pure ecstasy, intermittently gasping for air as his heart pounded relentless.

  “Holy fuck,” he finally let out. He let his head flop back on the couch pillows, only to keep forcing his neck upright to watch her.

  She was trying to shed her robe without stopping. Was it suddenly too hot in here for her too?

  Finally she let up, shrugging the robe completely off her shoulders and taking her arms out of the sleeves, frantically. He was further assaulted by more of the revelation of her brown skin. Her ample cleavage rested in her plain white undershirt, the spaghetti straps cutting into her dark smooth shoulders. Calmly she resumed her work, letting a soft moan escape.

  Kevin could barely believe his ears, his eyes. Was this really happening to him? He shifted his weight a bit and before he knew it had one hand on her scarf laden head. Suddenly she came up for air.

  “Is it good?” she grinned, her black eyes bright and alluring. Proud even. Her voice softened.

  His response was an unintelligible sequence of breathy curses and groans.

  Kenya was unusually turned on.

  Maybe it was because it’d been a long time, or that she went from having a day of binge watching and ice cream ahead of her to sucking a dick before noon. Her first white dude, her first any dude other than Cecil in eight years.

  She wanted to feel like a cheater, wanted to feel what they must’ve felt sneaking around and eroding a decade of trust.

  She hadn’t expected to feel like a fucking pornstar. Kevin was in a daze of the best kind. And she suddenly realized how long it’d probably been since he’d had his dick sucked. And of all people, the registered nurse from Murray Regional Medical Center was the one to end the drought.

  Just when she thought her nipples couldn’t get any tighter, Kevin’s fragile sexual barriers started completely eroding. He was whispering her name, calling her baby and cursing like mad. Her free hand went into the front of her pajama bottoms, presumably between her legs, which nearly made his head explode.

  “Tell me when you’re close,” Kenya pulled away to remind him.

  “What?” he said foggily.

  “When you’re close to cumming. Tell me when.”

  “Can I— ok…”

  “Can you what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, say it,” Kenya insisted.

  “Can I— er, can we… switch now?”

  Fuck yes!

  Kenya was expecting to give some head. And maybe get her own in return.

  She wasn’t expecting the mutuality of a shared sexual experience.

  She was definitely not dressed appropriately.

  “Um…sure,” she replied, trying not to sound enthusiastic. She stood up and put her fuzzy robe back on.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” she replied as she returned her arms to the fuzzy warmth of the sleeves. She grabbed for both sides of the belt.

  “Just pull your pants down.”

  “Well, excuse me for wanting to be a little more covered,” she said as she tied her robe shut.

  “I’m about to see your vagina.”

  “Can you just, let me have a thing, please?”

  She stood in front of him, bent over and released the velcro latches on her knee pads and he let out a chuckle, shedding a bit more of his nerves. He helped pull down her pants and she stepped out of them. She wore no underwear underneath.

  “I just got out of the shower,” she announced, half out of nervousness. Kevin had gone completely quiet as he surveyed her bottom half.

  Shit. She hadn’t done much maintenance down there since being alone. He suddenly inched forward to the edge
of the couch, tilted his head to an angle and planted soft hot kisses on her mound. She couldn’t see him use his tongue from her perspective, but she could feel it.

  Instantly she propped one leg up on the couch beside his and she accidently let a soft moan escape, followed by a curse as he slowly inched even further forward, seeming to relish in the increase of access. His hands went to her backside.

  “Wait… lay down,” he said

  Kenya moved the couch pillows next to him and nestled herself in the corner, spreading her legs slowly just as Kevin had begun to dive in, head first.

  Okay… so he did know what he was doing.

  She couldn’t quite reconcile the sight of him doing it, however. She averted her eyes upward before she had to close her eyes completely and let her neck roll backwards. She put her back in a slight arch. Before she knew what was happening, her hand was in his hair and her jaw was to the floor.

  Kevin was a veritable buffet to the senses. He was equally as quirky in the bedroom, it seemed. Full of… something. Passion, enthusiasm, drama, she couldn’t quite place it. Reluctant to show it but compulsively unable to hold back.

  Kenya wasn’t used to such an energy. Cecil never held back anything. He certainly never considered sparing her feelings any sort of virtue.

  “I’m gonna come soon,” she announced, sad as it was to already be the case. But she was relieved somewhat that she wouldn’t have him down there for an awkward eternity.

  Cementing his Olympic credentials, he suddenly made his pace more leisurely, his tongue more pointed, and circled her clitoris until her orgasm built and built and damn near became visible.

  “Omigod, Kevin…” she didn’t make a habit of calling a man out by his name during an orgasm but he was sure earning the privilege. He deserved to let the angels hear. She called his name once more before before unloading a round of intense gasps into the side of her raised arm arched behind her head, the other still in his hair. Even after she’d come down he was still licking and sucking and spitting. Jeez, he really did like to give head. Kenya started to realize how pent up he had to be. Finally, he relented and she could see he was still rock hard.

  “Sit up,” she told him.

  “Take off your shirt,” he breathed.

  Oh shit, she thought to herself, a zing hitting her nipples. You got Kevin giving out orders now!

  Slowly she removed her robe and the sleep shirt underneath, so that she was fully naked. He scooted back to the opposite side of the couch and leaned against the armrest, one leg bent and off the couch, the other leg extended. Kenya crawled in between them and slowly took his member back in her mouth and arched her back, making sure he got a good look at her body.

  He was wrong about her boobs, they were not chill. At all. They were incredibly alert and arresting. Her nipples were huge and black, just now they were perked, making a slight slope at the end of her breasts, two perfect teardrops. He wanted to try and fit them both in his mouth at the same time… but he was pretty sure that wasn’t part of the deal. As if reading his thoughts, she began running her hands over them. Damn.

  “You, are fucking, beautiful,” he breathed. She responded by taking him deeper and he let out a curse.

  She stopped and sat up when he shifted, changing position so that both his feet were on the floor. He lowered his boxers all the way down quickly.

  “I wanna see your tits while I come,” he said.

  “Yeah?” Kenya replied, smirking and feeling somewhere between a prostitute and a celebrity. She’d already come but Kevin was mesmerizing in his current state. He was a different person entirely. She lay against him on her side as she stretched herself over the length of the couch, trying to get a winning angle on his cock while she showed him her body. She propped one of her legs up and his hand went between them, his long arm making a trek up and down her curves and resting on her breasts. He could feel the orgasm building.

  “Fuck, I’m close,” he announced.

  Thank God, she thought. Her neck was killing her at this angle. Sensation shot through her groin as he announced it a second time. She gave him a few good sucks before letting the saliva run down her hand and around his member. The coordinated effort with which she stroked him made his toes curl.

  “Don’t stop, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned.

  Kevin imploded. He could only look on helplessly as he watched the nurse from the hospital, the same one who’d keyed his car and let him eat leftover crockpot meals, milk his cock all over her vinyl couch and microfiber duvet. It was the hottest thing he’d ever personally been a part of.

  She’d done it just like a nurse would. With a level of politeness and tact and professionalism. When he’d hit her chin she didn’t even flinch, her eyes slightly widening at the phenomenon before she took her tongue to the opening, and then tended to the tip one last time with a moan and a kiss.

  “Holy fucking shit,” he finally found his words, panting.

  “I needed all of that just now,” she chuckled.

  “Sorry if I was…” he began sheepishly.

  “Don’t be,” she assured him.

  “It’s been a long time for me,” he explained.

  “I could tell.”

  “Could you? Really?” he cringed.

  “Yes,” she laughed.

  “You,” he began somewhat in wonder, “you are definitely an Olympian,” sighed Kevin.

  She stifled a smile as she replied, “Damn right.”

  “I feel fucking awesome.”

  Kenya laughed.

  “I may have to… share my medal,” she remarked.

  “You don’t have to throw me a bone.”

  “Kevin, take the compliment alright?”

  “No way, you’re a fucking winner.”

  Kenya giggled again.

  “I’d say we’re both winning right now.”

  Kenya retrieved only her bathrobe and put it on, tightly tying it.

  “Towel?” she casually asked him.

  “Please,” he politely accepted.

  She got up and headed down the hall, presumably to a bathroom.

  “Can I make coffee?” he sent at her back.

  Kenya gave him a wide smile with a furrowed brow.

  “Don’t you have to be at work or something?”

  “It’s Saturday.”

  “Oh…” Kenya remembered, returning from the hallway bathroom towel in hand. She tossed it to him.

  “Uh, sure. Make me some too.”

  Kevin buckled his pants and got up from the couch feeling like a clear headed boss.

  Goddammit, he needed that like a motherfucker. Was he really about to turn that down?

  He had been totally sexually anemic, he mused, as he turned the coffee machine on. Kenya sauntered to the entrance of the small kitchen, looking equally renewed. He suddenly felt optimistic. The world welcomed him back.

  “Wanna… hang out or something?” he offered.

  “You ‘hang out’?” Kenya chuckled.

  “Sometimes,” he insisted. “I have friends.”

  Kenya laughed. He smiled.

  “Well I don’t,” she replied.

  “Wanna catch a movie?”

  Kenya wrinkled her nose, her way of saying ‘no.’

  “Oh my gosh, I know the perfect thing,” she perked up.

  “What’s that,” he grinned.

  “The Farmers Market. It’s so much fun in the fall.”

  “What’s fun about it?”

  “I don’t know. Pumpkins?” Kenya responded, as if wondering if he even had a soul. He laughed.

  “We can scrounge up some bounty and throw it in the slow cooker,” he offered.

  Kenya tried to keep her excitement at a low boil.

  “That’s an all day thing you’re proposing.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”

  Kenya beamed as she coyly shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll go get dressed.”

  He watched her descend down the stairs, a pecu
liar warmth washing over him and it made him feel like he could run a marathon.

  Had he just… made Kenya happy?

  Geez. Her husband really had been a piece of shit.

  Or maybe Lindsey had?

  Kenya returned to the kitchen dressed in a beige crop top cable knit sweater and jeans, a light layer of makeup on her eyes and lips. She let her hair out of her crown of braids and to his surprise it was dramatically long and thick and was sprawling in a high ponytail. He smiled, delighted.

  “What?” she couldn’t stifle her grin.

  “First time I’ve seen in you in something other than pajamas. Or scrubs.”

  “That’s… sad,” she replied.

  “You clean up nice.”

  “This is not me cleaned up. In fact, I can’t remember the last time.”

  “Then we should go out. Sometime,” he freely volunteered.

  “Just you and me?”

  He grinned. His wife had the same answer the last time he’d asked her out. Inwardly he scoffed at the memory. A fucking actress.

  “Yeah. As friends, of course.”

  Kenya was silent as she took a sip of coffee.

  “As fuck buddies, then,” Kevin corrected when she didn’t answer right away. She chuckled.

  “I appreciate the gesture, really it’s just…I don’t know, let’s not,” she turned him down. She felt she owed him her reasoning.

  “It’s not the way I want to find out the dress I’ve been waiting to cut the tags off of doesn’t fit anymore. I’d probably break my ankles in my favorite heels.”

  “We’ll revisit this at a later date,” he pressed, raising a steaming cup of coffee to his lips. His refusal to take “no” for an answer surprised her. Pleasantly.

  “Fair enough,” she smiled.

  They spent hours at the Farmer’s Market, walking lazily as they talked, and taking samples from everyone who stopped them. They brought home a load of fresh things— vegetables, meat, microgreens, spices— chopped and diced them and loaded them all in the slow cooker.

  “Have you noticed there’s really no awkwardness between us?” Kevin began.

  Kenya stopped adding onion to the pot to give him a complicated look of wrinkled brows and a nose.

  “You think there is?”

  Kenya just widened her eyes and raised her brows in response.

  “I love your expressions,” he confessed.