Another Time, Another Place

by Zane

  “Who’s your man?”

  “You are, Keith.”

  “That’s right. Remember that shit.”

  He straddles my face and lets his genitals hang over my lips. I suck his large cock into my warm, wet mouth and hear him release a sigh. I go to work with the action I enjoy giving him. I draw his entire dick into my mouth and down my throat until my lips touch the base of his rod. I release him slowly with the right amount of pressure, turning my mouth into an oral oasis. I work my way to the head, grab onto the shaft with my hand, and begin jerking his cock in and out of my mouth while concentrating on licking and slurping the head. And then without notice, I down him into my throat again back to the base of his penis.

  “Shit! Connie, baby, you know how I like it.”

  I release his dick from my mouth, grab it with my hand, and smack my face with the hardness of the shaft. I moan as I release my inhibitions and attack his penis the way I want. I gobble and twirl his cock, spinning my tongue around the head and the shaft without releasing it from my mouth.

  “Damn, baby, you’ve been holding out,” I hear Keith say.

  I hold him by his athletic, tight ass and pull him further into my mouth. I suck harder and go up and down on his loaded pistol. He gets it and begins to hump my mouth.

  “Yeah, baby, take what you want, Connie.”

  I moan and suck his cock even harder, spinning it in and out of my mouth, jerking it with my hand, stimulating every inch from the tip to the base. I hear what I’ve often heard from him.

  “Shit! Baby, I’m gonna cum, don’t stop.”

  I continue to eat his meat like it’s the best damn steak I’ve ever had. Suddenly, he removes my hand and takes over with his own. I feel his dick swell even larger as he takes his final slow, long strokes in my mouth. Then suddenly, he retracts from my mouth, points his shooter at me, lets out a loud grunt, and fires his hot load all over my face. I squint to keep his cum from getting in my eyes and try to watch him through the tiny space I leave between my lashes. I want to see his expression during this first experience. He continues to shoot the final remains of his orgasm and I get a glimpse of his closed eyes and concentrating face. He seems to be in another world. I wait until he opens them and then I let him see me rub his moisturizer into my skin and lick the remnants from my fingers.

  “Thanks for my pearly shower. It was all that and a bag of chips,” I tell him.

  “I’ll say. You make me weak in the knees. Pearly shower, huh?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I called it in my dream.”

  “I like that,” he replies.

  He lowers his body over me, takes his big-ass dick into his right hand and fondles my genitals until his giant is full length again. He’s always good for multiple orgasms. That’s another thing that I love about him.

  “Well, baby, you know what I want.” He flips my legs over his shoulders, points my pussy to the ceiling, hovers above me and places his thick, long dong in me, one inch at a time, in deep, in deeper, in all the way. Suddenly, I feel his dick consume the center of me and we fuck like rabbits all night long; strength and stamina, what these two healthy bodies can do.

  I stretch and rise with the early-morning Saturday sun. The rays feel warm and fresh against my naked body as I walk into the bathroom to start my day. I turn on the shower and brush my teeth while the shower water warms to the perfect steamy temperature. After a few minutes, I step into the shower and begin to lather. Through the glass doors I watch Keith enter, stand over the toilet, and drain his lizard to start his day.

  I yell, “Are you joining me this morning?”

  He doesn’t answer which is strange. Usually he’s only quiet in the mornings during the week when he’s thinking about his workday and all he wants to get done. On the weekend, he’s more easygoing and talkative. He opens the shower door, steps inside, takes the washcloth out of my hands, and scrubs my back in a circular motion. I close my eyes and enjoy the tender side of him. Moments after washing my back and shoulders, he asks, “Connie, do you love me?” I’m glad my back is to his chest because my mouth unintentionally falls open. Where the hell did that come from? We don’t walk around saying I love you often like some couples. He tells me once every blue moon, never twice in a row like last night and now. And I make it a practice never to tell a man I love you first and surely not often. They’ll eat that mess alive and think they have you sprung. If Keith tells me I love you, then I’ll tell him. But this time he’s asking about it again like he has doubts. I’m sure my dream registered with him and now he’s questioning his manhood. How many people would take kindly to their mate dreaming about some other person? Not many and certainly not Keith, even if he did fulfill my fantasy. I compose myself and face him.

  “Keith, sweetie, of course I love you. You know that.” I seal my words with a soft kiss under the warm waterfall. He presses his forehead against mine and continues, “Connie, do I satisfy you?”

  I press my 36DDs against his chest and wrap my arms around his neck.

  “Keith, you are the smartest, kindest, most loving and giving man I’ve ever known. Yes, baby, you satisfy me.”

  “Are you sure?” He sounds like he’s troubled.

  “Yes, sweetie, I’m more than sure. I told you that I enjoyed you fulfilling my fantasy.”

  “Yeah, but you had it with some other cat first.”

  “Keith, it was a dream. I was too embarrassed to tell you and it just played out that way.”

  He stands silent looking at me. I gotta get his mind off of this. I cup his testicles in my hand and stroke his long shaft. I kiss him passionately across his wet chest, up and down his neck. I suck his earlobes and whisper, “I love you, Keith Nelson.” I break my rule because desperate measures call for desperate action. He can’t doubt me. Nothing can disrupt the flow of me being his platinum princess. Finally, he shows a sign of belief and relief. I’m happy to see I’ve won his thoughts over again. We bathe each other under the waterfall and enjoy a sensual shower together. Afterward, we dress and head to his friend Q’s barbecue on the east side of Buckhead to kick off our Saturday fun. Later we drive to the Pit and as usual, the crowd gets cranking after eleven o’clock.

  ***

  Monday morning arrives quicker than I want, but I’m glad to be here to witness it, another day, and another dollar. Keith rolls over and greets me with a warm good-morning kiss. I cuddle next to him and think about our adventurous weekend, mainly about my dream and how it strangely brought us closer.

  “Baby, what’s on your schedule today?” he asks while stroking my pubic hair.

  “I don’t know ’cause boss lady is back in town. I’m sure she’s gonna want to catch up on what’s been happening in her absence, in spite of the fact that we emailed her daily.”

  “Do you think you’ll be free for lunch?”

  “I should. Why?”

  “Maybe we can go to the revolving restaurant at the Westin Peachtree across from where you work. You’ve always wanted to go there.”

  “Keith, you’re kiddin,’ right?”

  “No. What you think, a brother can’t afford it?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just that, well—”

  “Well, what?”

  “It was in my dream.”

  “Come on, Connie. Stop with the bullshit.”

  “No lie.”

  “Well, who did you go with?”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me, who?”

  “Bishop,” I answer.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I think there’s more to that dream than you’re telling me.” He rises from the bed, obviously annoyed and heads to the bathroom. I join him.

  “No, there isn’t. Don’t trip. It’s just ironic, that’s all. Maybe I dreamed it because, like we both know, I’ve always wanted to go. The subconscious is a powerful thing.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. Yours is in overdrive.” I pay him no mind and dre
ss for work.

  An hour later, we’re both ready to greet the workforce, me in my pantsuit and Keith in his Rocawear. I commute the usual hour-and-a-half drive during rush hour to Atlanta and think about the carpool experience in my dream. I laugh aloud, what a dream.

  The parking garage is unusually full this morning so I drive down two more levels than usual. I park near the elevator entrance, exit my car, and proceed to the entrance when I notice a metallic silver Mercedes 500 in the far corner. Strange. What a coincidence. I reach the lobby and wait for an elevator car with the rest of the morning crowd. The bell dings and an elevator arrives. The doors open and everyone boards. I hear a familiar woman’s voice screaming, “Hold the door, please. Hold the door.” She enters with a laptop, briefcase, and folders in hand. The doors close and she looks around. “Thank you.” She sees me to her left.

  “Connie, hi. How’s everything?”

  “Fine, Ms. Collins. Everything went smoothly while you were out of town. How did the cases go?”

  “Great. We got a lot done. We have a number of new contracts to handle, lots of good business.”

  “Wonderful. I look forward to it.”

  “Stop by my office later this afternoon. There are a couple of contracts I want you to handle.”

  “Okay.” Bitch, I say to myself.

  The day passes quickly with boss lady back. She has so many things she wants the staff to do and so little time to do them. I finally get a chance to meet with her like she requested this morning. Our conversation doesn’t take long. She’s a very organized, middle-aged woman who knows exactly what she wants, and communicates her expectations with precision. She instructs me to go to the accounting department downstairs on the fifteenth floor. She wants me to review a contract with Mr. William Johnson, the lead senior accountant and director of his division.

  “I’ve already spoken with Mr. Johnson. He’s very familiar with your work and is expecting you at three o’ clock.”

  “Yes, Ms. Collins. I’ll be there at three o’ clock sharp.”

  “Very well.”

  She shuffles her papers with the usual signal to anyone standing before her that the conversation is over. I leave her office wondering how is my assignment going to work out with someone who knows more about me than I do about him. I’m already at a disadvantage. Usually, I’m familiar with my clients and have done my homework to understand who or what I’m dealing with. But this is straight off the cuff and my meeting with Mr. Johnson is only an hour away. Nonetheless, I’ll go there like Ms. Collins asked.

  At three p.m. sharp, I enter the glass doors of the accounting department on the fifteenth floor where the receptionist greets me.

  “You must be Connie Winslow.”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Johnson is waiting for you.”

  She gives me instructions to his office. I stand there like a deer in headlights because her instructions are straight out of my dream—how eerie. I reach my destination and almost pass out—right there on the spot where the door opens and a tall, handsome, thirty-something, Hershey-dipped man stands before me.

  “Hi, Connie. I’m William Johnson.”

  I damn near scream and gasp at the sight of him. He looks strikingly similar to the man in my dream. The only difference is Mr. Johnson is more pepper-gray and his eyes are dark brown. Instead of a shadow beard, he sports a refined mustache. I catch my breath just enough to say, “Yes, I see that on the nameplate, sir. Nice to meet you.”

  “Come in. Bernie tells me that you’re an excellent contract attorney.”

  “Bernie, sir?”

  “Yes. Bernadette, your manager, my wife.”

  “Wife, sir?”

  “Oh that’s right, you’re new here. How could you know? She uses her maiden name at work. Bernadette Collins is my wife.”

  “Ms. Collins is your wife, sir?”

  “Yes. We’ve been married for—”

  “Don’t tell me. Let me guess, thirteen years?”

  “Yes. How did you know? Did she tell you?”

  “No, I just took a wild guess.” I walk to the huge window to collect myself. But when I touch the thick glass, I’m quickly jolted back to my dream when we were spread eagle fucking against the window like two wild animals.

  “Connie, is everything okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Please, call me Bill. Have a seat.”

  I sit across from this Adonis man trying not to make direct eye contact, but it’s inevitable, as we must discuss the contract on the table in front of us.

  “So, this is the much-talked-about Hoffner contract,” I mention, trying to stay focused.

  “Yes. Here, let me show you the sections in question.”

  We reach for the document at the same time and it happens—our hands accidentally touch and a bolt of familiar desire flashes throughout my body. Our eyes fixate on each other a few seconds beyond what’s professionally acceptable. I wonder what he’s contemplating. I know what I’m thinking: In my twisted state of mind, he knows how to rock my world.

  Janice N. Adams is an enthusiastic author who ignites life into fictional characters and story lines. Her arousing novels and novella take your mind away from the daily hustle-bustle as you laugh, cry, and cheer for her characters. She is a native of Richmond, Virginia who moved to Maryland in 1992 where she currently resides. She earned a bachelors of science degree in sociology from Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University in 1988. Her professional career spans over twenty years in the areas of project management, information technology, and human resource management. She is an active member of her community providing support and contributions to local churches and charities. She is married and has two young sons. She enjoys photography, interior design, sports, music, and movies. In addition to her novella, “A Twisted State of Mind” featured in Another Time, Another Place, she is on the horizon of publishing two completed novels, A Heart’s Journey to Quench a Thirsty Soul and Undeniable Passion: A Heart’s Journey 2. She is also working on her third novel, Hale and Fury: Two Sisters, Two Worlds, One Destiny. You can learn more about Janice and her upcoming novels at www.janicenadams.com or email her at Janice@janicenadams.com

  ANOTHER TIME, ANOTHER PLACE

  ZANE

  NOVEMBER 12, 1986

  Dear Diary,

  His dick was curved. Not a huge curve but curved just enough to work my pussy in all the right spots. When a man’s dick is too straight, it can be painful. A sister needs a brother to be able to move with her groove. I remember my ex-boyfriend, Tony. His dick was like a wooden plank. It would not budge for anything and even when I tried to get on top and maneuver to get some serious action going, it was too much damn work. He would leave me sick, unsatisfied and feeling like I had gone through an OB/GYN examination with that duck lips tool.

  Back to the one with the curved dick. I licked it last night, like it was the most delicious chocolate ice cream cone in the world. No, not a cone, a Popsicle with chocolate on the outside and vanilla cream on the inside. I wanted that cream, too. I wanted him to shoot it down my throat like a human geyser. I wanted him to cum so much that I could gargle with his sperm. I know all this sounds nasty but I am simply a woman who loves dick. Now the men that dicks are attached to are another question. There is Darrell. He’s nice enough. We met at the grocery store the other day. He seems like a brother who is about something other than trying to see how many pairs of panties he can get into. We will have to wait and see what happens.

  Anyway, back to last night. I was standing on a balcony, the wind blowing the curtains outward and teasing my hair as I overlooked the skyline. I could sense his presence as he walked—no, glided—up behind me. I could smell his cologne. Mmm, he smelled like heaven. He was wearing all white. A doubled-breasted suit with no shirt. His chest was chiseled, like the rest of him. His skin was moistened—his deep dark skin. His bald head was shaved smooth, like his face, and his thick lips encased perfectly straight white teeth.


  “Did you miss me?” he whispered in my ear, after joining me on the balcony.

  I could not answer. I only managed a whimper. My entire body, from the soles of my feet to the tips of my fingers to the babyfine hair of my pussy was calling out his name. Strange as this is, I still do not know his name. I know every inch of his body, his voice; his dick, but not his name.

  He comes to me every night now, no matter what city I am in, no matter what time zone. I cannot wait to get through the performances at work so I can rush to be with him. Our favorite fucking song is “Do Me Baby” by Prince, followed by “Fire and Desire” by Rick James and Teena Marie. Both of those songs make me so fucking hot. My pussy stays drenched from merely thinking about being with him. Once we are together, we ignite. I am surprised the bed has not caught fire from all the serious fucking we engage in.

  He always gives me a serious dick down and I do mean dick down. I can hear the sound of his balls slapping up against me as I type this. Mmm, damn, I wish he was inside me right now. I wish that I was sitting on his dick, with my back to him, rocking back and forth as I sit here at my computer. A sister can get a lot of work done that way. When he fucks me, a feeling comes over me that I cannot quite express. I shiver, but I feel calm at the same time. No man has ever made me feel so desired, like he is so pleased by my efforts.

  He eats my pussy until I detonate all over his tongue. It is such an amazing feeling. I only wish that I could fuck him twenty-four seven, but life intervenes. If I could, I would walk around with his dick in my ass; in my pussy; in my mouth. Ooh, yes, definitely in my mouth.

  Damn, I am getting fired up just writing this. I hope he comes back tonight so we can “cum together” and fornicate under the consent of the king. I know he’ll be here. I need to go bathe and get ready for him, so he can bury his dick into me balls deep and put me to sleep like a baby.

  Kisses,

  Kiss

  NEGRIL, JAMAICA

  SEPTEMBER 1987

  ALECK