The Sweetest Taboo

by Risqué

Feeling her nut building, Drae started bucking the dildo faster. She began rubbing her clit and moaning. “Uhmmmmm…”

  After showering her juice over the strap-on, Drae rolled off Lee-Lee and fell onto her back. She could tell just by looking at Lee-Lee’s face that she must’ve been in a trance and was experiencing the true essence of being pussy-whipped. And just to drive the point home, Drae thought about taking out the double-headed twelve-inch dildo that she and Hassan played with, so that she could show Lee-Lee how it truly felt to work a dick. But once she saw Hassan’s nut was spilling onto his hands, she changed her mind and figured her point had been made.

  Lee-Lee stared at Drae for a moment longer before biting her bottom lip and asking her, “Do you give private sessions?”

  Drae felt like she could’ve smacked her. Hadn’t she already proven to Lee-Lee that she wasn’t working with shit? “Girl, beat it.” Drae smirked. “That shit there was for my fuckin’ man; chicks are not my thing.” She climbed off the bed. “Give her the role and send her the fuck home,” she said to Hassan. “I need a real dick to fuck with.”

  “Oh, you need a real dick?” Hassan smiled as he motioned for Drae to come near and Lee-Lee to leave the room.

  Drae walked over to Hassan, who was working on another hard-on, and kissed him. They could hear Lee-Lee slam the door behind her.

  “She was better than me, baby?” Hassan asked Drae as he ran his hands up her thighs.

  “Never, baby. You the best.”

  “You gon’ ever leave me, Drae?”

  “Never. Ever. Nothing and nobody could ever make me think about leaving you.”

  “I’m the best, baby?” he asked as she straddled his lap and eased onto his hard dick.

  Gyrating her hips, she said, “You gon’ always be the best.”

  six months later

  Never as Good as the First Time

  Yuri

  It was an honest mistake, her fucking Britt this long. This time she meant for it to be only once, maybe twice, but that was it. Take the nut and run with it; but she didn’t. Instead she fell in love with his arrogance, and with his being six feet two and having seven tattoos etched into the protruding muscles on his chest, arms and one that lay seductively on the right side of his neck.

  They’d been close since the eighth grade, when his family moved to Brooklyn from Trinidad. She would sit next to him in class, take notes for him, bring him lunch and act as if she could comprehend every word he said, when really she couldn’t. Yet, despite how hard Yuri tried, Britt took her kindness for just that: kindness. And instead of kicking it to her, he used her to translate what she pretended to understand to all the chicks he really wanted to get with.

  Which was why, years later, she never counted on his throwing salt in the game. Kicking it to her like he wanted more than just pussy. Like he had to have her heart too. Coming at her extra hard, knowing she’d never been treated this way: the late night phone calls, singing to her, rubbing her feet, cooking for her, buying her things, valuing her opinions, listening to her, loving her and fucking her like she’d never…ever been fucked before.

  Yuri tried desperately to fight off her feelings and focus on the richness of Britt’s Trinidadian dick. The length of it defied the twelve-inch ruler, the thickness and the uncircumcised tip made the myth of a big black dick exist. Even the ridges of his balls and the way they swirled across his skin and blended smoothly into one another exuded beauty.

  Yuri glanced at the alarm clock flashing seven A.M. from the top of the maple nightstand while trying not to think about how quickly the last two hours had zoomed by, but she couldn’t help it; like cheating, counting the time had become a habit she’d picked up.

  She took a deep breath and wished Britt would resume seducing her again. He knew their time was limited, yet it seemed that getting zooted off ganja and practicing new scats for his out-of-town performance was all that occupied his mind.

  Usually Yuri would just say whatever she had to and care about Britt’s reaction later. But not this time; she was caught up. Caught up in too many fulfilled fantasies and tangible dreams. Life was sweeter with a shitload of woulda, coulda, shouldas and what-ifs, but now she had reality to deal with; and reality was kicking ass and fighting her like hell not to let go.

  For a moment Yuri studied Britt to see if there was something about him that could make being in love with him feel better, but all she got was a confirmation that loving him had become a destructive mix of eating where you shit. “Look”—Yuri sucked her teeth—“we gon’ fuck again, or what?”

  Britt stopped singing and took a pull of his blunt. “What?” he said while releasing the smoke.

  “I rushed out this morning so you could catch a flight this afternoon. Now either we gon’ fuck or I got other shit to do.”

  “What?”

  “I said,” Yuri stressed, “is this it for the dick? What, you need a pill and shit? Your hard on have a time limit?”

  Britt raised one of his thick eyebrows and chuckled in disbelief. “Yo, my man,” he said, calling her by the pet name he’d given her, “chill.” He mashed his blunt in the ashtray and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. He grabbed one of the plush white towels that sat on the hotel’s vanity and wrapped it around his waist, then took another and tossed it behind his neck.

  “Chill?” Yuri spat, holding back tears, hating that her feelings were hurt by his saying something so simple. “Niggah, it’s seven o’clock in the morning. I ran my black ass down here and all you’ve done besides give me a half-ass nut is get high and ignore the shit outta me. If I wanted to be ignored I would’ve stayed home.”

  “Yo, my man,” Britt repeated himself, but with more base in his voice than before. “Trust me. Chill.”

  “Fuck ‘chill,’ and right about now fuck you. And by the way, I’m not a man, so stop calling me that!”

  “What de muthascunt—” Britt quickly changed from his usual Brooklyn accent to a strong Trinidadian one.

  “You called my mother a what?” Yuri cut him off. “Speak clearly.”

  “Oh, now you don’t understand me?” Britt was pissed. “Gon’ ask me what I say about your mother. You know damn well I ain’t say nothin’ about your mother.” Britt sighed. “But what you don’t know is I’ma ’bout to leave yo’ ass alone and hit you off with some time to think.”

  Yuri tried desperately to control her tears. “I did not sign up for this!” She rose from the bed and started collecting her things. “I swear to God I’m too caught up in this shit. I don’t even know why I’m still fucking with you. You don’t give a damn about me, and I’m tired of playing myself for you!”

  “Yo, my man—”

  “My name is Yuri!”

  “Yuri—”

  “Don’t fuckin’ talk to me!”

  “Why are you so pissed?” he asked, taken aback. “You never acted like this before; and we’ve said all kind of shit to each other.”

  “Why am I so pissed? What the fuck you think?!” Yuri’s voice started to crack and her bottom lip trembled. She kicked the pillow they’d knocked on the floor earlier out of her way. “You so caught up in yourself and everything you doin’ you don’t even think about how somebody else feels. I swear to God I can’t stand y’all foreign no-good, fig-boat motherfuckers. I’ma leave all y’all asses alone and stick with the American I got at home!”

  “Yo.” Britt walked toward Yuri and backed her into a corner. “Apparently your American husband ain’t got yo’ ass in check. Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing in my face. But see, this West Indian right here will gank yo’ fuckin’ ass if you ever disrespect me again. Matter fact, peep this: It’s over.” He waved his hand as if he were slicing through the air.

  “Over?” Yuri felt as if she’d been slashed across the throat. She couldn’t believe he’d ended it. When did he get this kind of power to decide when and if they could be together? Who the hell was he? God? “Over? Did you say it was over?” she asked. “We’d have to be t
ogether in order for it to be over. And I’m already married. So as far as I’m concerned you can kiss…my…wide…black…ass, you no-good motherfucker.” Tears raced from her eyes as she started collecting her clothes, which he’d so hastily strewn around the room earlier.

  Britt pushed her back into the corner and pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ma ’bout two seconds off yo’ ass, so just tell me you love me, ’cause all this extra shit is gon’ get you killed.”

  “Move!” She wiped her eyes and pushed past him. She did her best to slip her blouse on.

  Britt wasn’t used to seeing Yuri act like this, so he stood back and watched her. Once he saw she was serious he said, “Man, calm yo’ ass down.”

  “Oh, I’m calm. I’m calm enough to say ‘fuck you’ and not think twice about it.”

  Britt had to laugh.

  “Now I’ma joke?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Where are you going, Yuri?”

  “I’m going”—she rolled her eyes—“to fuck my husband.”

  “What?” Britt looked at her so intensely that she felt at any moment she would get her ass kicked. She watched his jaw twitch and his protruding pecks thump twice.

  “Do what you gotta do, ma’, you ain’t my shittin’ wife. Fuck it. You too goddamn bol’face anyway. Run so that niggah can think you nuttin’ over his sterile-ass dick, but I know the real deal. Matter fact”—Britt waved his hands and his pecks thumped again—“I don’t even know why I’m trippin’ off this shit. I just said it was over. So fuck it. Bounce!”

  Yuri felt her knees giving way. “You know what? I hate you!” she shouted through her tears.

  Britt couldn’t stand that she was crying like this, especially knowing that he was the cause. “Come here,” he said as he motioned for Yuri to move next to him. “Why we arguing? This is ridiculous. Forgive me? I forgive you.”

  Yuri stood where she was and replied, “I wish I would. To hell with you.”

  Britt walked over to her and carefully unbuttoned her blouse; sliding it off, he said, “You in love with me?”

  Yuri did her best to look away. She knew if she faced him she wouldn’t have the nerve to lie.

  “Your feelings about to run you crazy.” Britt dropped the towel from around his waist. “I warned you I was a rude boy.” He started kissing the side of her neck.

  Instantly her nipples stood up. “Britt, just let me go.”

  “Now you tryin’ to make the problem worse….” He kissed around the sides of her neck and then moved to her nipples. “I love to suck these titties. Damn, they just melt in my mouth. This the shit that make me wanna suck the hell outta your pussy. You know this fat pussy taste like wet and sticky candy?” He slid two fingers in.

  “Britt, please.” She did her best not to open wide and gyrate on his fingertips. “Didn’t you say this was over? Yes, I believe you did, so man up to your fuckin’ word.”

  Forcefully but without much resistance Britt walked Yuri backward to the bed and laid her down. “You need to learn to shut up sometimes.” He licked a rough, yet seductive trail from her neck, in between her breasts, and over her navel. Pausing at her pussy lips, he opened them up and sighed. “Damn, this shit stay wet. All this for me, baby?” He stuck his index finger into her melted candy, pulled it out and sucked off the drippings.

  Yuri could feel Britt’s wet tongue tickling her clit and flicking it up and down. “You still going home to fuck your husband? Knowing he don’t fuck you like this?”

  Instead of responding, Yuri grabbed the edge of the mattress and pulled up the fitted sheet. “Uhmmm lick it right there….” she moaned.

  “Answer me.” He bit her pussy lips slightly.

  “No…bite the clit, baby.” She pushed his head in farther.

  “He fuck you like me?” Britt gave her clit one last lick before moving his head from between her legs, turning her over and easing his dick in.

  Yuri was silent. No matter how many times they’d been here, his dick always blindsided her and given the abundance of force he was now banging her with, she knew her pussy would be sore for days. “Britt,” she managed to say, “your dick is too big to be fucking me like this. Slow down.”

  “Fuck all that.” He stroked, while placing his hand at the back of her neck. “I asked you a question about my pussy.”

  “Britt!” Yuri couldn’t help but scream as he flipped her over and her titties bounced in his face.

  “Does he fuck you like this?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going home to fuck him?”

  Yuri cried tears of ecstasy and confusion. She hated that his freakiness clouded her thoughts with visions of crazy shit. Like how to leave her husband for Britt, and how to change Britt and convince him that she was all he ever needed. How to get him to see that if he had taken the time when they were teens he would’ve seen that she loved him. And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have been so desperate, fucked up her life and become the wrong man’s wife.

  “You gon’ fuck him?” He stroked her as hard as he could.

  Yuri tried not to answer and instead focused on the nut she felt building up. “Britt,” she gasped, “do…what I like…baby.”

  “What?”

  “Suck the nut out.”

  “You gon’ fuck that niggah?”

  “N-n-noooo…baby….” she stuttered as he did what she requested. “No….”

  Drae

  The extended version of Prince’s song “Adore” tore through the surround sound in their master suite as Drae sipped on a chilled bottle of Hpnotiq and her husband, Hassan, unfolded a hundred dollar bill and snorted a white line of girl.

  Nasty Naz, the aspiring porn star who Hassan brought home for an audition, immediately made eye contact with Drae as he slowly pulled his fitted V-neck tee over his head and unzipped his baggy jeans, revealing the waistband of his CK boxers. Bulging veins and rippling muscles traveled down his tattooed chest and flowed over his caramel skin like a Sugar Daddy. His beauty was unlike any other man’s Drae had ever seen before. And although he was handsome, it wasn’t his face that captivated her; it was his swagger, his confidence and his thugged-out presence.

  As Prince’s guitar took on a life of its own, Drae gently rubbed her clit and firmly pressed her lips against the sweaty neck of the Hpnotiq bottle.

  Naz could tell he was nothing like she expected, as he blessed her with a sensual striptease. And his dance was nothing fancy, it never was. His perfect body spoke for itself.

  Completely naked, Naz walked over to Drae. The muscles in his thick thighs showed off their magnificence as he stood between her legs. He grabbed a fistful of her shoulder-length hair and looked into her face. To most, Drae was the spitting image of Nia Long, her skin was smooth and the color of a new paper bag, her chocolate eyes Asian-inspired and her full lips were evidence she could blow a good dick.

  “Don’t play with me. Put the bottle down.” His voice was raspy and sent chills through her. Fighting the urge to bask in his stare, Drae took her right leg and threw it in the crook of his arm. The strawberry face of her pussy was fully exposed. “Why should I?”

  Instead of responding, Naz let her hair go, got on his knees and sucked the sticky folds of her pussy lips. The creamy juice from her G-spot ran down her thighs as he began to aggressively lick her clit. Instantly Drae started shaking and the bottle began to do a dance in her hands as she struggled to hold on to it. “Uhmmm…wait…” she moaned. “Let me…put it down.”

  “Nah, next time you’ll do what I tell you.” He looked up at her. “Now hold it.”

  Drae’s eyes were closed tight. She’d never had this type of audition before. Hell, taking it to the head and simultaneously getting her pussy licked was her signature, but this niggah here was tongue-tying the game.

  “In case you didn’t know,” he said in between sucks of her pussy, “Nasty Naz came to work.”

  Drae was speechless a
s she struggled like hell to hold on to the bottle. She held it so tight she was sure it would shatter in her hand. After all, she was used to getting her pussy eaten but never before had she had it spanked. This was one aspiring actor who beat all the others hands down. Even Hassan would have to put in some work to come behind this one. And it wasn’t that Hassan had no back. Hell, he was six-two, two hundred and ten pounds and he had no problem putting pussy to sleep. It’s just that Naz catered to the clit like he owned it.

  Seeing that she was struggling to hold the bottle, Naz took it from her hand, poured what was left between her breasts and threw the bottle against the wall. Instantly it exploded, sending bits of glass soaring through the air. He gazed into her eyes, ran his hands from her ebony nipples to her cherry-colored clit. Drae tried her best not to respond, but his intense stare was putting her under a spell. “It’s running all over me….” she said nervously.

  “Naz got you, ma’. Don’t worry.” His tongue took a bath in the generous amount of liquor that covered her fat nipples; tugging, pulling, biting…Afterward he ran his Hpnotiq-soaked hands over her flesh like a Swedish masseur, sucking her toes and reminding her clit of his presence. He flipped her over, kissed her ass and turned her back to face him again. Drae began to moan and shake like never before.

  “Drae,” Hassan said, as the high from his line started to take effect, “you like that shit, huh?” He started rubbing his dick as he watched another man pleasure his wife. For a moment Drae forgot he was in the room, but then she remembered he was usually quiet during the auditions. Besides, being able to watch was his favorite part. It reminded him of a sensual dance. The body moving to its own internal beat: jerking, making rhythmic motions and forcing the mouth to speak. “You’s a fuckin’ whore, huh?” he spat at Drae as he rubbed his shaft forcefully.

  “Oh, daddy,” she said, doing her best not to fumble over her words, especially since spitting out this line was one of Hassan’s requirements. “You still the best….”

  “You lying, bitch?”