by Zane
“Is this a d-d-dream?” I stammered.
“You tell me.”
I shrugged, feeling foolish. “I’m not sure.”
“But you’re so sure dreams are all ‘mumbo jumbo.’ Ever heard of Oliphant’s Beads of Antiquity on Lake Avenue, in Old Pasadena?”
“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been.”
“Perhaps I can persuade you to visit,” he said, gazing hungrily into my eyes. An elegant white business card with crisp, jet-black ink appeared between his fingers. “I’m a certified gemologist, jewelry designer, and metaphysician. I’ve spent most of my thirty-five years studying and lecturing about the power of stones and the meaning of dreams. My two brothers do most of the actual jewelry making. Our family has sold the rarest beads and made the finest jewelry for hundreds of years—since my great-great-great-grandfather arrived in New Orleans from Senegal, as an enslaved African.”
“Are you going to teach your sons?”
“I have a daughter, fifteen, successfully selling her own line of semiprecious earrings. Her mother and I parted, as friends, years ago, but I cherish the dream of having another little me. Do you have children?”
“Not yet,” I said, thinking, But I cherish the idea of fucking your fine ass up and down this empty railcar, trying to make one.
His head pulled back slightly and his thick, chiseled lips formed an “O,” as if he heard my thoughts.
“May I take a closer look?” he asked.
He didn’t wait for permission; just slid his cool, smooth fingertips onto my throat, beneath the necklace, lifting it into the lavender daylight pouring through the large, smudged windows. He held it for nearly a minute, gently shifting it this way and that, causing the hairs on my neck to send a four-alarm fire to the delta above my thighs. My pussy pulsed with a craving to be crammed.
He spoke softly but firmly, “Eleven minutes to the next stop, Lisha. Yes … or no?”
“Yes!”
I had barely tacked an “s” on the end of “yes” before my skirt was scrunched in a roll beneath my full breasts, the damp crotch of my panties had been yanked aside, and my naked ass was smashed against the metal wall, nearly six feet in the air. His perfectly round head was vigorously gyrating between my thighs, and his strong tongue was pummeling my stiff clit like a punching bag in an anger management facility. My strong thighs rested on his stone-hard shoulders, and my helpless calves flopped rhythmically against his strong back until he slid his cool fingers into my hot, juicy, waiting pussy.
Suddenly, my body quickly stiffened as he sucked and licked harder and faster. I slowly spiraled into a long, luscious cum. Once I was done, he removed his fingers, lowered me to his lap, and gently plunged inside me with his large, hard cock. He started pumpin’ me deep and slow. I yelped and moaned with intense pleasure until I felt him rumble within my taut walls. We remained joined in an intimate embrace for a few seconds, but soon rushed to straighten ourselves.
As our train rolled to a stop, he sighed. “Yes, you are genuine, Lisha Lane. Promise you’ll visit me soon.”
“Promise!”
“Sweet dreams,” he whispered after hungrily kissing my lips, oblivious to the fresh horde of onlookers boarding the train.
From the train to my office, I mentally replayed the sexy railcar encounter over and over. It kept me so aroused, I headed straight to the executive restrooms on the seventeenth floor, where I massaged myself into another spine-whippin’ orgasm. I quickly showered and changed into my low-cut, curve-hugging, chocolate jersey dress, reserved for such emergencies. I craved more of his scent, his strength, and his manly wildness. I promised myself that next time, I’d be the “giver,” and that “next time” would be very soon. I imagined walking into his shop, dropping submissively before him, and giving his long, gorgeous black cock a generous serving of my most exotic head, with my smooth agate necklace wrapped snugly around his balls.
After a morning that sexy, trying to focus was futile. I floated, dreamily, from one assignment to the next with little success. I ended up hunting down my personnel file to check out how much leave I had on the books. I discovered a week’s worth of sick days. I dabbed a little toothpaste in my eyes, rubbed my nose until it glowed cherry red, made a series of Oscar-worthy sneezes, and my coworkers couldn’t get my ass out of there fast enough. People with children in college can’t afford to get sick.
Once outside, I dug through my purse, frantically searching for Todd’s business card. It wasn’t where I remembered placing it. You would have thought I was looking for a donor organ. In a frenzy, I dumped my whole purse onto a Classified section someone had abandoned on the bus bench. Most of my belongings were still in a pile when my bus arrived. The driver shot me a look of disgust as I boarded. She was being seriously harassed by a quartet of foulmouthed, wannabe bad girls. They were acting loud, rude, angry, and crude, and became increasingly agitated as I searched my purse for my Metro pass. Finally, at the bottom of the heap, I found my pass and hurriedly swiped it. Once seated, I found Todd’s card lodged in the shank of a stunning aquamarine ring, which I immediately slipped on. The teenage girls abruptly settled down in the back of the bus and began quietly amusing themselves with their bejeweled phones and iPods.
“You must be my lucky charm.” The driver sighed, glancing up into her rearview mirror in complete disbelief.
• • •
Even a block away I recognized Todd, moving about near the large window of their upscale storefront. He smiled as I walked nearer, but it seemed vacant. He had changed into a sheer, white and beige, oversized, silky, button-up shirt with no collar and relaxed, matching slacks—quite a departure from the stately trench and executive tailoring.
“Nice to see you again,” I said, “and by the way, thanks for this beautiful ring. How did you know I was a Pisces?” I held out my ring finger.
Todd’s dark, leopard-like eyes sprang wide with surprise. He said, “I actually made that ring for one of our important clients, as a peace offering for an unavoidable oversight, but my brother thought it was inappropriate—‘too intimate’ were his exact words. Anyway, I’m glad you like it.”
“Well … let’s see what makes Oliphant’s Beads so special.”
He led me through a pair of taupe velvet curtains, down a short hallway, and into a large, stylishly lit showroom. Everything was displayed in intricately carved cases. I had visited many bead stores, but this was clearly the crème de la crème. Everything was color coordinated and displayed categorically, but the arrangement was definitely not stuffy or museum-like. Everything could be touched and examined. It was hard to believe so many beautiful beads could be found in one shop. Bead-buying is one of my many passions, but I didn’t come to buy beads, at least, not today. I came to be the giver of immense pleasure.
I gently closed the large, ebony, hand-carved door behind me and quietly turned the dead bolt. By the time he turned around, I was butt-ass naked with my little brown dress draped neatly on my arm, next to my purse. His eyes drank in the sight of my smooth, blueberry-brown skin, and his lovely cock executed a stiff salute. Playtime!
I moved toward him in a kind of slow-motion, runway stroll. Leaning in, I gently nibbled his full lips and slid his pull-ons to the floor. He playfully kicked them aside. Off came my Botswana agate necklace and, as planned, I knelt before him and used it to lasso his large, velvety balls. Once I tightened the necklace perfectly, he moaned deep and arched his heavily muscled back against a large glass menagerie full of ancient amber and silver amulets. Since morning, he had changed to a light and grassy scent and shaved himself to satin smoothness, almost as if he knew I was coming to suck his cock in appreciation for the sexiest morning of my life.
I captured his throbbing cock and flooded it with my wildest kisses. Within the warm wetness behind my brilliant, merlot-colored lips, I swirled his smooth mauve dick tip in circles, until his muscular thighs started trembling. His strong hands passionately clenched my shoulders. I sucked him comple
tely inside and stroked his whole dick with rhythmic swallows. I guided him in and out of my mouth, steering him with one naughty finger buried deep in the pillowy flower of his tight, round ass. Back and forth … in and out … deep and deeper …
In one sharp motion, he pulled me to my feet and growled, “Ride it!”
I climbed up on him, and he effortlessly lifted my cunt into alignment with his ready cock.
“Whatchu waitin’ for?” he asked sternly. “Fuck me! If you want your necklace back, you gonna fuck me like you ain’t never fucked before! Something tells me you’re the kinda sexy-ass bitch who’ll fuck me just right to get it back.”
I took him to the roof of my vagina and began snapping my hips into him.
“Work it, girl! Awww, yeah, you workin’ that pussy on me now!”
What can I say? He got rough, so I got rough. “Say my name, you Coke-bottle-cock–slingin’ muthafucka!”
He looked stunned for a few seconds but finally muttered, “You ain’t runnin’ shit! If anybody gonna call out a name, it’s gonna be you! What’s my name?”
What can I say? Some guys need to have the upper hand, so I cranked my pussy into fifth gear and started fuckin’ the livin’ shit out of my railcar lover. Every time I took him to the top of my pussy, I’d grunt his name and tighten around his shaft with all my might.
Barely conscious, he asked, “Who has the sweetest, tightest, juiciest pussy in the world?”
“Lisha Lyric Lane, that’s who, muthafucka!”
He released in a long series of pulsing waves. Then, and only then did he call my name again … and again, plowing deeply into me with the last of his hardness.
Afterward, he trapped my wrists with his large strong hands and pulled me in tight for several long, passionate, tongue-dancing kisses, and said, “This hasn’t happened in a long time.”
“This has never happened to me,” I admitted reluctantly.
“Well, the damage is done.” He sighed, pressing my agate necklace into my palm, along with a rare African amber amulet. “I have a lot of new items to put in stock and a ton of online orders to fill, Lisha. When can I see you again?”
“How about tonight, in my dreams?” I teased.
“Can you handle that? Dreams can get really wild sometimes.”
“Wild’s my style. Boring is what I can’t handle. I handled your wild ass in the Metrorail car this morning, didn’t I?”
“Um … I know you did. Let me call you a cab, Lisha.” He wasn’t asking.
• • •
The cab he called was more like a limo. The driver refused to let me pay or tip him, and walked me to my door. As I fished for my keys, he handed me a jewelry box wrapped in lusciously textured matte black paper, tied with a silver metallic bow. Inside was a delicate platinum neck chain with a striking emerald pendant and matching pear-shaped earrings. On the tiny attached gift card, in brilliant blue ink, was penned:
Wear this tonight, and I’ll cum with you in your dream of dreams.
In lust,
T.K.O.
I set that gift card down, put on my running shoes, and jogged three vigorous miles through my neighborhood. I showered, exfoliated myself to a satiny sheen, and adorned my naked body with only my emerald necklace set. Ordinarily, when I don’t have to work the following day, I might stay up until one or two in the morning, but I couldn’t wait to go to sleep.
When eight o’clock rolled around, I started sipping hot chocolate and reading the most boring literature I could find. Those were my last conscious thoughts, and I remained sound asleep—until I heard a frantic series of police-like raps on my front door. I snatched a lacy robe from the arm of an overstuffed chair in my room and bounded downstairs, taking two steps at a time. It was Todd, dressed exactly the way he had on the train, standing next to … Todd? In the white silk Indian leisure suit, and a third … yes, third … Todd? … Beside the first two identical men. “Railcar” Todd spoke first.
“Ummm … you better sit down, Lisha. There’s been a huge mistake. We came to straighten things out. If you never spoke to any of us again, I’d understand, but I hope you’ll at least hear me out.”
I was dazed when I answered the door but became suddenly lucid as my eyes ricocheted among the three identical men. “Let’s hear it.”
Railcar Todd was obviously distraught but continued. “I should have told you that my brothers and I are identical triplets. I should have made a date with you right then, instead of just giving you a card. I never imagined you’d come by so soon.”
“I’m Todd’s identical triplet, Tyson. I should have said something once I realized you thought I was Todd, but, like I said, ‘The damage is done.’”
“And what about you?” I asked the third identical brother.
“I’m Tariq, and I ain’t sorry about shit! I sent you that emerald necklace set so I could come fuck you tonight in your dreams. I liked what I saw when you were suckin’ and fuckin’ Ty in the display room this morning.”
Todd’s and Tyson’s heads turned in unison.
“I don’t know why you fools are lookin’ at me like that. This woman’s a stunner—a stunner with mad skills! Ain’t no need to be all proper now. I’m the only one who hasn’t had the pleasure of gettin’ all up in that good pussy! Let me tell you something else, Ms. Lane, we have fucked the same woman too many times to count. Sometimes they knew, and sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes we let each other know, and sometimes we didn’t. Am I lying?”
Todd hung his head in shame. Tyson just shook his head.
Tariq continued, “The truth is, we’re three certified freaks who’ve done just about everything three identical brothers can do, sexually. The only thing we’ve never done is a three-on-one. I say we drop all the bullshit and let this be that special occasion. What do you say, Lisha?”
“Yes!”
• • •
What were the chances of having this kind of fantasy come true? What woman hasn’t imagined being thoroughly fucked by two or three men? Watching the three of them remove every stitch was enough to blow an ordinary woman’s mind, but today was not an ordinary day, and from this day forward, I would never be considered an ordinary woman. Watching them parade over to my bed with their dark honey skin, freshly showered and glowing like polished copper, was breathtaking. Their three long, thick, identical cocks bobbed with excitement. While I set out an assortment of toys, towels, and lubricants on my nightstand, they murmured in a tight huddle. I couldn’t resist sliding my fingers in and out of my hot pussy and rubbing my clit into a feverish red peak. Once they realized how excited I’d become, it was on!
Like synchronized swimmers, they methodically changed positions. I stroked two of them, while another identical cock stroked me deep inside. Todd curled me into a helpless ball and fucked me slowly and gently. Tyson drove his cock into me like a fucking machine. Then there was Tariq … mmm, Tariq was so hot!
While Todd and Tyson nibbled my earlobes, licked and sucked the tender skin of my throat and full breasts, their thick fingers hunted between my legs to find my lower lips and pulled them wide apart, exposing my sensitive inner skin to the cool air. Tariq began a long, undulating, and masterful grind. Next, Todd and Tariq gently chewed and vigorously sucked my erect, dark chocolate nipples, while Tyson’s hot mouth alternately sucked my clit and whipped his long, thick tongue deep into my pink-pillowed folds. The sexual scents of our quartet filled the air. My climb began. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. Suddenly, to Tyson’s dismay, Tariq seized control.
Tariq sat me on his lap, facing out. He guided his stiff cock deep into my folds and gently bounced me up and down, while I moaned with pain and pleasure. Todd knelt before my splayed cunt and put his Metro car sucking to shame. Not to be left out, Tyson climbed up, straddling my gapped thighs, and started sliding his rigid cock in and out of my mouth until I convulsed fiercely, with triple pleasure.
• • •
The sun trailed its fingers of warm, rosy lig
ht through the blinds, across my plump, round ass. I love waking up whenever my eyes happen to open and despise the obnoxious blare of an alarm.
Was it all just a dream?
Not one thing was out of place.
Maybe I was just imagining sexy things.
On the way to the shower, I whispered to myself, “Maybe it’s time for psychotherapy.”
In my mirror image, I noticed a long, delicate, platinum chain and pendant between my pendulous breasts—three huge diamond peas, peeking from a vaginal-like slit in the exquisite platinum pod. When I touched the top pea, a hazy image of Todd appeared.
“When you want any one, two, or all three of us, that’s all you need to do.”
Yes!
Atlanta Proper
Tabitha Strong
Where do I know him from? Mr. tall, bald, and sexy was making rounds across the room, shaking hands with all the right people.
“Kellie … Kellie, look at Precious Wilson.” Gabby tugged on my sleeve, trying to get my attention. I was too busy eyeing him. “Ooh, girl, the years have been kinder to some of us than others.”
“Huh?” I answered finally.
“Over there, on the dais. She looks fifty, not thirty-five. Didn’t she graduate a year before us?”
“I don’t know. Who can remember? That was almost fifteen years ago.”
“When she finds out you’re back in town, she’ll be all over you to join her women’s group.”
“Oh, great.” What could be better? A root canal?
Precious stepped up to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’d be kind enough to take your seats, we’ll start the program.”
I took a deep breath and sat down with Gabby and her husband, Chuck, at our assigned table.
The two hundred dollars I’d spent on the ticket was for a good cause, community development, even if it had been years since anyone in that room set foot in the ’hood—myself included. The air was dense with perfume and spotted with proper ladies’ hats, each more elaborate than the next. Reflexively, I sat up a little straighter, shoulders back, head tilted slightly upward, mirroring the image of all the other good Christian women with their respectable upbringings and superior educations.