by HoneyB
“Over here,” he said, motioning a come-hither with his finger. “Get on your knees and suck my dick the way you did at my house.” He stood tall beside the sofa, staring down on her. “You give the best fucking head I’ve ever had,” he complimented, hoping to encourage her to do better this time.
Closing his eyes, Herschel relived how incredibly amazing his bulging dickhead felt when sandwiched between her fleshy jaws, gliding along her slightly abrasive tongue. “Wait,” he said, taking off his shorts. Removing the magazines from the coffee table, he tossed them to the floor, then reclined on the sofa. His ass was cradled in the cushion. He slid his feet apart, settling them flat on the floor, then said, “Get on your knees on the table and bow onto my dick. Look up at me when you suck this big dick.” He held his stiff erection straight up, waiting for her mouth to cover his head.
“Sure. Whatever you want, as long as you eat my pussy real good,” she said, kneeling on the table. “Your wife got home before I got my pussy licked, and you ain’t leaving here without doing me, ’cause I love having my clit sucked, nice and slow, and have no problem giving you step-by-step instructions.”
As she braced her palms on his knees, her hands slipped off his thighs. Damn! She fell face-first into his dick, fucking up his orgasm and his dick.
“Oops,” she said.
“Oops, my ass. Never mind,” Herschel said, putting on his shorts. Rethinking his next move, he said, “Sit next to me.”
He watched her as she sat on the sofa beside him. She placed her hand atop his limp dick. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, gently massaging his dick before easing the elastic band underneath his balls. She gripped his dick with one hand, then leaned into his lap. “Um,” she moaned, sliding her saliva up and down his shaft.
That was more like it. “Pump my dick,” Herschel moaned. “Faster. I wanna get this shot out the way, so I can fuck the shit out of you doggie-style.”
Herschel thought about drilling her asshole the way his boy Brian talked about fucking women in the ass. That way he was guaranteed he wouldn’t end up with another kid outside of his marriage. Herschel liked the feel of pussy way too much to switch it up. Besides, ass-fucking a woman would mean being unfaithful to his man.
“Damn, you taste so good. What do you eat?” she asked, sucking harder.
Whatever his wife ate. Herschel didn’t want to talk. Thrusting his dick deep into her mouth, he was on the verge of coming. “Yes, damn, it’s right there.”
“Ou, yeah. I taste it,” she mumbled.
“You ready for this… ah! Ah! Yes!” he yelled, squirting deep in her throat. His head was so deep, she didn’t have an option. She swallowed.
Coming in a woman’s mouth was a male dominating tactic. Like a dog pissing territorial pheromones to claim his territory, Herschel came in a woman’s mouth to feel empowered over her. His boys felt the same way. Once a man ejaculated in a woman’s mouth, every time he saw her, with or without another man, he felt a sense of ownership, as though he could make her suck his dick anytime he wanted. Even if that power wasn’t true, Herschel felt that way.
Why she’d let him come in her mouth was his pleasure, not his concern. Thankful he had a son, not a daughter, Herschel wondered if his father had treated his mother the same way. Herschel hated that Nikki consistently spat his sperm back onto his dick, or pulled his dick out of her mouth right before he’d come, spilling his seeds onto his stomach.
“Here, kneel on the sofa,” Herschel said, holding the condom packet in his hand. He slid his dick inside her, feeling her hot, juicy pussy before he rolled on the condom.
She didn’t hesitate to tilt her ass in the air and spread her lips for him. He liked that shit. “Yeah, play with that sweet pussy,” he said, rubbing his forehead on her clit, stuffing his nose inside her pussy. He wanted to smell her pussy juices engulfing his nostrils. He teased her for a moment before sliding his bald head over her vagina. Feeling the warmth of a woman’s pussy juices smearing the crown of his scalp was his private fetish, especially if she had coarse pubic hairs.
“Aw, yeah,” Herschel grunted, closing his eyes. Nothing in the world felt better than pussy. Holding her butt cheeks in his hands, he slid his dickhead inside her pussy, then fucked her nice and slow.
“Stop playing with my shit and fuck this pussy like you want it,” she commanded.
Bracing her hands on the back of the sofa, she pushed her pussy onto his dick and started stroking her clit. “Damn,” she whispered. “Your dick must be dipped in platinum. I’m creamin’ all over that motherfucker already. Ah-ha… that’s my shit!” she announced several times, riding him like she couldn’t get enough. “Pull my hair! Spank my ass!”
“Pa-yow!” he said, slapping her ass hard.
“Yes, do that shit again,” she commanded.
“Pa-yow!” he said, smacking her two more times.
“Oh, that feels so fucking good,” she said, rubbing her clit.
If Herschel couldn’t please Nikki, he’d do his best to pleasure every person he fucked. “Get on your knees on the floor and crawl like a dog.” He wanted to say “bitch,” but he feared that might change her mood.
“Whew! You’re a pit bull,” she said, crawling in front of him. Collapsing onto the carpet, laughing, then rolling over, she stuck out her tongue like a puppy, spreading her pussy lips. “My turn. You ready to taste the best pussy in the world?”
Herschel frowned. Hell no. He wasn’t lapping up her cum. “Let’s shower,” he insisted. “I’ll go first.” He locked the bathroom door, then scrubbed his body under the hot water.
A man wasn’t interested in eating, chilling, cuddling, or conversing with a woman he considered easy, sleazy, or a jump-off. This chick was definitely a jump-off. She’d done her job. She’d gotten him ready to go fuck his male lover. Herschel would fuck her again, but he wouldn’t make plans to hook up with her. Just like when he’d first met her and taken her home, then today; that was how his relationship with her would always be. Impromptu pussy. But she seemed to be okay with that. More women were becoming like men every day. Soon the scripts would change and men would be reduced to—not lovers—dick mills. Women would force men to come without giving any restitution. No home-cooked meal. No alcoholic beverage or water. No warm place to lay their heads overnight.
Herschel scrubbed his dick and balls twice, using the shower gel instead of the soap. His male lover easily sniffed the scent of hotel soap. Shower gel was what Herschel used at the gym.
Drying off, Herschel wondered, what could he do to win back his wife? Had they reached a point of no return? Herschel tried to determine if he ever had Nikki’s heart. Now that he seriously thought back on how and why he proposed, probably not. Finally he admitted to himself that he’d married Nikki for her money. He wondered if his father had left his mother because his mother was poor. Herschel would give Nikki back every dime of her money that he’d spent on Ivory in exchange for Nikki’s heart.
Stepping out of the bathroom, completely dressed, Herschel said, “Lay down on the bed.” He spat on her pussy, then began massaging her clit, in tiny circular motions, with his middle finger. First clockwise, then counterclockwise. Stroking her shaft up and down between his thumb and pointing fingers, he held back her hood and began teasing her clit again. He watched the juices ooze from her clit.
“Oh, damn, that feels so good.” She thrust her hips toward him.
Herschel massaged her clit with the tip of his finger until she screamed, “I’m coming!”
He wanted to lick her clit with his stiff tongue, but Anthony would detect the taste of pussy in his mouth. Since the room was in his name, he couldn’t chance leaving her in the shower, so he waited for her to get dressed. Herschel left the hotel, dropped the woman off downtown at the gym, then drove to the condo he shared with Anthony. Knowing Nikki wasn’t home, he wasn’t ready to go back to an empty house.
Using his key to enter the home he felt most comfortable in, Herschel sat in front o
f the flat-screen television. He watched LeBron’s interview, wondering why LeBron’s son was seated at the press conference table, looking confused as to what he was supposed to do while his father answered questions from the media.
Anthony opened his bedroom door and asked, “You okay? I didn’t hear you come in and you didn’t knock on my door.” Sitting beside him on the sofa, Anthony rubbed Herschel’s thigh.
“I’m good,” Herschel answered, trying to force Nikki’s rejection of him out of his mind. But he couldn’t. His suppressed anger had manifested into a hate so deep, his love for Anthony and Ivory was tarnished.
Herschel couldn’t rationalize openly being in a relationship with a man. There was no social justification. If he wanted to salvage his marriage, he had to choose. Did he want Ivory? Anthony? Or his wife? He didn’t want to risk losing them all.
“Herschel, what is bothering you? Is it your boss? Nikki? She still refusing to sign the divorce papers?” Anthony asked. “We could just live here together until our divorces are final.”
“You know you are not divorcing your wife,” Herschel said.
“I will if you will,” Anthony countered. “I love you, not her.”
What kind of father would Herschel be if he moved in with Anthony? Would he cheat on Ivory with another woman? Would he become frustrated or impatient with his son if his son couldn’t understand that his father wasn’t gay? Herschel was bisexual. What if Herschel moved in with Ivory? Would he be a full-time dad or an absentee father?
Anthony pinched Herschel on the arm, knelt, looked up at him, then said, “Let me suck your dick. You’ll feel better.”
Oh, shit. Standing with his shorts circling his ankles, Herschel gripped the back of Anthony’s head when Anthony’s mouth opened.
Herschel’s eyes scrolled upward. “Damn, that feels good.”
Anthony stroked his shaft, thrusting the head into his mouth. He sucked in the head, applying pressure along the ridge. In and out. In and out.
Herschel felt the passion each time Anthony sucked him in. Unable to hold on to his orgasm, Herschel let go of his sperm but couldn’t let go of his heart. Loving a man was wrong.
CHAPTER 7
Lexington
Donna! Get the fuck off me,” Lexington shouted.
“You are not leaving this house again tonight. I’m sick and tired of my husband leaving me every damn night to go out and get what you have at home,” Donna cried, clinging to his shirt.
Suddenly he was her husband? After lying dormant next to him, his wife had awaken from her emotional coma to realize she was married, and he was magically supposed to be the rabbit she pulled out after stirring her hand around in an empty top hat for three years. Hell no. Donna could put her prolonged, unconscious, coldhearted, born-again-virgin pussy to sleep for ten more years.
Lexington lamented, “You’re not interested in me. You’re furious that I don’t care anymore. I don’t care that you think withholding sex from me is some sort of punishment. I’m not your fucking child. Your kids are upstairs. And thanks to you, they’re probably awake. Let me go!”
Donna uncurled her fingers, then reached for his head wrap. Blocking her hand, Lexington scrambled out of the house, got in his car, and locked the doors.
“Get out the car! Lexington, do not drive off.”
Looking in his rearview mirror, he saw Donna in their driveway, crying. Her bunny slippers were hideous. But seeing his wife wearing one of his button-up shirts was a first, but he liked it. His shirt was sexy on her. Now, if she’d do something with her hair and her damn attitude, maybe he’d give her the respect she deserved and listen to what she really wanted to say. Until then, it was Saturday night and she knew he wouldn’t be back until sunrise. One day, he might not go home again. He should buy a second home and separate from Donna.
“I can’t stop loving you. I can’t help myself. And I can’t get over you. No matter what I tell myself, baby” resonated from the speakers in his SUV, reminding him of last Saturday night when Nikki showed up at the club, all dressed up just for him. Cruising into the lot at the swingers club, Lexington self-parked his car, then continued listening to Kemistry sing the words that Lexington felt in his heart for Nikki.
Why did he love Nikki more than Donna? If he had lived with Nikki for ten years, would he feel the same about her? Why did he marry Donna? He couldn’t recall. Oh, that was it. He’d watched Nikki accept Herschel’s proposal on national television. That, and the fact that Donna was extremely accommodating. Willingly she’d relocated to a city she’d never visited, South Beach, to support him emotionally. She sold her New Orleans cuisine restaurant, downtown on Tchoupitoulas Street, to become his housewife and cook. Donna should’ve stayed in New Orleans and continued servicing her almost five-thousand monthly repeat and tourist customers if all she was going to give him was verbal lip service.
Changing his mind about self-parking, Lexington shifted into reverse, then drove a short distance to valet. He was excited his usual Saturday-night-live script was in motion. Handing the club monitor a new bottle of tequila, Lexington read the sign on the double doors before entering, circled his finger in the air, then handed the bartender a $50 tip.
Tonight, Lexington wanted intoxicating euphoria and escapism from being an entrepreneur. No meetings. No responding to text messages or e-mails. No returning calls. Unbuttoning his shirt in transit to the community dressing room, he motioned for the attendant to get on his job and open a locker. Quickly he removed, then placed his clothes, shoes, and wallet in the locker. Why in the fuck had he invited Nikki to his spot last week? Listening to her tell him she couldn’t wait to come back pissed him off. She could forget that. He had not invited her back.
Entering the room with a glass door, Lexington motioned for the two women standing in the hallway to come join him. Plopping on the sofa, he spread his thighs wide. Lexington was in the midst of getting his dick sucked while chilling with his face marinating in some sweet pussy juices until the couple on the bed next to him and his crew suddenly stopped fucking.
Looking up from licking the woman’s pussy, Lexington said, “Oh, hell no. What is she doing here?” He knew this fucking shit was going to happen; it was all his fault.
Nikki stood on the other side of the glass door. He wondered how long her voyeurism had honed in on his promiscuity. Scanning Nikki from her feet to her head, he saw she had on black gladiator-style strap-up shoes, a black thong, a black lace-up bustier, and a platinum ass-length wig.
Damn! Lexington thought, rising from his knees. “Excuse me, ladies, I’ll be right back. Y’all play with one another to keep my pussies wet.”
Exiting the semiprivate room, Lexington wrapped his towel around his waist, gripped Nikki’s hand, led her to the dance floor, then scolded her. “Nikki, what’s up? You need to take your ass home. I don’t mind you coming to my spot when I invite you, but only when I invite you. Herschel is on his way, and he’s going to flip the fuck out if he finds out you’re here. And for the record, if he gets here before you leave, you are not with me, okay?”
Lexington had invited Nikki as a onetime adventure, but he didn’t want her to start showing up on Saturdays like a regular. She didn’t even have the decency to tell him she was coming.
“And what about Donna? You saying you have permission to be here every Saturday night? What if I bring her here next Saturday? We could have a foursome. Or better yet, why wait? How about I go get her and bring her here tonight? Oh, you don’t think I saw her in the driveway with her damn slippers on, begging you not to leave. I do me, Lexington, ’cause all you married men are the same. Fucked up in the heads,” Nikki said, pointing at his wrapped locks, then his dick.
Hearing Nikki talk down to him deflated his ego in more than one way. Lexington’s dick slumped, and she saw it happen as the bulge under his towel disappeared. Was Nikki spying on him? The only possible way for her to see Donna standing in his driveway was Nikki either had binoculars, a telescope, or both.<
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Nikki continued, “And need I remind you, just like you, I’m the moneymaker in my house, not Herschel. I wish he would show his ass up here. He’ll be sleeping at your damn house.”
What had gotten into his friend? Was she straight tripping? It didn’t matter how much money Nikki made, she would forever be a woman, and that was not his fault. Lexington’s jaws tightened as he backed away from Nikki. He felt distant, like those two women who’d danced last week without touching one another. He’d known Nikki too long for their friendship to end over sexual encounters, because he was definitely fucking a few women tonight, but Nikki was not on his list. Not tonight. He seriously regretted introducing her to his favorite swingers club.
“Oh, shit,” Lexington said, staring toward the front entrance.
A group of three sexy-ass women known as the “Queens of Ecstasy” walked in. Superfreaky shit was about to jump off with a vengeance in a blazing minute. Lexington untied his locks, tossing the head wrap over a rail that partially surrounded the dance floor, in case he had to put one of them in bondage. Lexington tried to figure out how to get rid of Nikki without pissing her off. His dick went from limp to standing hard, firm, and tall.
One of the Queens walked up to him, bowed before him, removed his towel from his waist. Smack! She slapped his ass hard, held his dick in her hand, and started pumping his dick like she was an air pump and he was the inner tube, then said, “Ladies, we’ve got a foot-long colossal dick over here. I’m gonna need some pussy power reinforcement for this anaconda motherfucker.”
Aw, shit. No man ever chose the Queens of Ecstasy. Whatever man they wanted, they got, and every other man gawked on the sideline with envy. This was Lexington’s third time being selected in six months, and he was not missing out on this opportunity by thinking about Nikki or Donna.