So here I was, two months later, alone in my apartment getting drunk on chocolate fudge cookies, rainbow sherbet, and Oprah. Rahiema may have treated me wrong, but I was missin’ her with a fierce passion. OK, I was missin’ the sex.
It had been all that and a bag of chips with dip and then some. Feel me? That woman could work me over with just her pinkie finger and those juicy kissable lips. Damn, Rahiema was one of the finest sistas I had ever laid my eyes on. She was a darker version of Toni Braxton (another woman I would give my kidney for) and twice as fine. Rahiema had skin the color of dark plums and was just as sweet when she wanted to be. That’s how I prefer my women. You know the saying: The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. I’m surprised all my teeth didn’t fall right outta my head.
I was heading for the kitchen for another refill of rainbow sherbet when my doorbell rang.
“Hey, skank. You can’t call nobody?” Araina Hill, one of my three best friends, said as she came barging into my apartment. My other two friends, Daire Grant and Joi Darling, followed behind.
“We thought you done crawled up and died in this mug,” Daire said. I hadn’t spoken to my friends or anyone in weeks since the breakup.
“Hey, love,” Joi said in her heavy British accent. She was the only Black person I had ever met who had been born and raised in England. “How are you?” she asked, hugging me.
“I’m OK,” I shrugged.
“You look like shit warmed over,” Araina said, smacking her gum like the tramp we all knew she was. Araina was decked out in her usual skeezuh gear: halter top and a skirt so short it showed things only a gynecologist should see. She was right, though. My apartment hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. The dishes were piling up in the sink. I couldn’t have even imagined what I looked like standing there in an oversized sweatshirt, cutoff jeans, and hair tied back in a ponytail.
“Leave T. T. alone,” Daire said. T. T. was short for Tilo Thomas. Me.
“Thank you, Daire,” I said, hugging her round body. She was the only person who called me T. T. Daire was what we called healthy. She had meat on her bones. She wasn’t really fat, just kinda big. Like Queen Latifah. Daire gave the best hugs and was like the mother of the four of us. She was also affectionately known as Big Momma D.
“So how are you doing, Ms. Tilo?” Araina asked, plopping herself onto my couch.
“I’m hangin’.” I sat between her and Joi. Daire sat on the arm of my couch.
“Have you heard from Rahiema?” Joi asked.
“No, I haven’t,” I said wrinkling my nose. “And I don’t wanna hear from her or about her.”
“Then I guess you wouldn’t be interested in hearing the dish on Ms. Rahiema,” Araina said.
“What dish?”
“Thought you wasn’t interested.”
“Bitch, you workin’ a nerve.”
“You must not be gettin’ any,” Araina said, sucking her teeth. “You hella grumpy.”
“What about Rahiema?”
“The high school tramp dumped her…for a man.”
“Serves her right,” Joi said. “I never did like her.”
“I’m not finished,” Araina said, holding up a newly manicured hand. “Anyway, I was out at Zami’s, you know gettin’ my groove on with a fine-ass piece of woman. I go to the bathroom, do my thing, and your ex corners me just as I’m coming out.”
“What did she want?”
“She wanted to know what was up with you and if you were seein’ anybody,” Araina said. “She wants back in.”
“She has got her nerve,” Daire said. “After the way she treated my girl.”
“What did you tell her?” Joi asked.
“I told her you were dating this fine-ass piece of woman and had moved on,” Araina said. “What could I say? That you were locked in yo’ apartment cryin’ over her?”
“Thank you, Araina.” I hugged her. “You slut.” I added.
“You my girl. I gotcha back, baby.” Araina grinned. “That ain’t all. So after I tell her you was taken, bitch starts hittin’ on me.”
“No!” Joi’s eyes bugged out.
“Yes!”
“No!” Daire said.
“Yes, dammit! Y’all need to clean the wax out ya ears so you can hear a sista.”
Araina looked at them in disgust.
“That is foul,” Daire said. “T. T., I got peeps who will take care of Rahiema for you.”
“You always got peeps you gon’ get to take care of somebody,” Araina said.
“That won’t be necessary, D,” I said.
“I should think not,” Joi said. “Violence doesn’t solve anything.”
“Shut up, Ms. Prim and Proper,” Araina said. “Violence doesn’t solve anything,” she said, imitating Joi’s thick accent.
“Fuck you, slut.” Joi gave Araina the finger.
“Speakin’ of fuckin’,” Daire said before Araina could come back with some flippant remark, “you gettin’ any lately, T. T.?”
“No, I haven’t,” I said. “And I’m not interested in gettin’ any.”
“Oh, bullshit on me,” Araina said, rolling her hazel eyes. “It’s been two months, and you mean to tell us you ain’t went out and snagged you some fish tacos?”
“We all ain’t nymphos like you, Araina,” I said. “Some of us have class.”
“Class my ass,” Araina said. “You need to put on one of the hoochie-mama skirts we all know you got in your closet, go out to the club, and get that punanny stroked, baby!”
“Do you always hafta be so vulgar?” I said, even though I knew she was right. It had been a while, and I was horny as fuck.
“Two months is a long time, T. T.,” Daire said. “Even Joi got hooked up last week. You know what a prude she is.”
“Hello. I’m sitting right here,” Joi said. “And I am not a prude. I have taste, and I have standards.”
“I appreciate all of your concern,” I said. “I’m just not really looking to start dating anyone right now. It’s too soon.”
“Who the hell mentioned anything about dating?” Araina said. “I’m talkin’ pure raw sex. No commitment.”
“The story of Araina’s life,” Joi said.
“Bitch!”
“Slut!”
“Shut up, both you,” Daire said. “Now let’s get back to T. T.’s problem.”
“What problem?”
“Your lack of a sex life, baby.” Daire stood up. “We’re takin’ you out tonight. You gon’ eat somethin’ besides chocolate fudge cookies. Let’s go find somethin’ for you to wear.”
“Didn’t I let you borrow this?” Araina asked, holding up a black sheer blouse. Daire, Joi, and me were sittin’ on my bed watching Araina go through my closet.
“No, that’s mine.”
“Can I borrow it?” Araina asked as she took off her halter top. “I got a date tomorrow. This is perfect.” As usual, Araina wore no bra. There was a 99.99 percent chance she wasn’t wearin’ panties either.
“You are straight hoochie, Araina,” Daire said, flipping through the latest issue of Essence, with Toni Braxton on the cover.
“Ya mama.”
“I don’t think so. But I do believe it was yo’ mama callin’ out my name last night.” Daire laughed and tossed the magazine aside.
“Bitch, please,” Araina rolled her eyes. “My mama’s got way betta taste.”
“Too bad she lost out on the looks,” Joi joined in. “Look at you.”
“Don’t you even try comin’ for me,” Araina threw up her hand. “You will get dissed.” She twirled around. “This is 115 percent supreme fineness, baby.” Her hands rested on her hips. “Besides,” Araina continued, “y’all got nerve callin’ me hoochie. I’m not the one with the mirror over my bed.” She pointed a long finger at me.
We looked up at the large square glass that covered half of my ceiling. That had been Rahiema’s idea, her reason being, “I like to watch.” My ex had been kinky.
“Someone was
into the freaky-deaky,” Araina said.
“Eat me,” I said.
“At least you’ll be able to watch,” Daire said.
“Yeah,” said Joi. “Instant replay.”
“You and Ms. Rahiema musta had some good times up in here,” Araina said. “What other nasty stuff you guys was doin’?”
“Fuck you bitches,” I rolled my eyes.
“Is that an invitation?” Joi asked. Araina, Daire, and I all looked at her, shocked. “What? The British girl can’t have a dirty thought?”
“We just don’t expect it, prude,” Araina said.
“Skank!”
“Ice princess.”
“Are you two fuckin’ or what?” I said. “Y’all argue like some old married-ass couple.”
“You ain’t got no business talkin’ about somebody fuckin’,” Araina said. “We know you ain’t get any.”
“I gets mine.”
“If your lover needs double ‘A’ batteries, you aren’t getting any,” Joi said.
“Leave my girl alone,” Daire said. “She can’t help it if her shit’s done dried up and died.” She, Joi, and Araina all broke out laughing.
“My shit is still all good.” I gave them the finger. “Don’t make me whip it out and give you a taste.”
“That definitely sounds like an invitation to me,” Araina said.
“Sounds like one to me,” Joi agreed. “What about you, Daire?”
“Sounds like we’re gettin’ invited to a party.”
“I…I was just joking.” I stuttered. “Y’all betta stop lookin’ at me like that,” I said, my friends looking like hungry horny hyenas.
“Shut up, Tilo,” Araina said, pushing me onto my back. She climbed on top. “This is what you get for always havin’ a big mouth.”
“Besides, if you can’t fuck your friends, who can you fuck?” Daire grinned.
“That’s what friends are for,” Joi said.
“Oh, good Goddess,” I said as Araina brought her mouth down hard on mine.
That’s what started it. Soon Araina was giving me kisses on the back of my neck. I shivered at the cool wetness her saliva left on my skin. Her tongue made circular motions as she crept down my back, undoing my clothes as she went. Joi soon caught on. She took my nipple in her mouth and sucked like a baby. Daire was stroking my hair. The muscle in my rectum contracted when Araina ran her tongue between my ass cheeks. She gave me a sly grin.
“Turn around,” Daire whispered in my ear. I did as I was told, turning so that her chest pressed against my back. With her left hand, Daire squeezed and played with my left tit while Joi continued sucking on my other nipple. Daire reached around my waist and ran a finger over my clit. I shivered again. She stuck the pussy-drenched finger in Araina’s mouth. Araina licked it dry.
“Good.” Araina licked her lips.
I pulled my knees up, giving her a clear view of a wet cunt. “You know what I want now,” I said, fingering myself. Araina gave me that slick grin again. I knew that when it came to sex, Araina Dawson liked it rough. I laid down on my back. Daire, who had undressed herself at some point, had her crotch bumping up against my head. Joi had stripped out of her clothes too and was sitting cross-legged, playing with herself. Araina grabbed both of my legs and forcefully spread them. She rubbed her hands together like a mad scientist about to bring her greatest creation to life. I could barely stand the wait. Araina grabbed my buttocks in her hands.
“Now, Araina,” I said praying I wouldn’t come right there before she even got inside. “I want it now.” Squeezing my ass, she plunged. Involuntarily I sucked in a large breath as her hand curled into a ball and slammed against the walls of my cunt. I lubricated her as she fucked deeper, and I wrapped my legs around her back, pushing her farther in.
“Hey,” Joi whined, “what about me? I wanna taste.” Daire, Araina, and I broke out laughin’. I had never had a woman whine about not tasting my pussy.
With Daire’s fingers, I spread my labia open. “Get down there, girl.”
If I had known Joi Darling could work me over with just a tongue, I would have gotten it on with her years ago. My God, that woman could eat some punanny. She was lightly dancing her tongue over my clit, teasing me. I grabbed her head and tried to push her father into me. Daire was still playing with my tit, and Araina was working her mouth on my other tit. She bit me hard enough to bring a sharp pleasure gasp from my mouth. I made her kneel so that her cunt was right in front of me. I was right: She was wearing no panties under that short skirt. I slipped my finger inside her, working that little bud between her chocolate thighs. Araina worked her hips back and forth in time with the finger fucking. My room, hell, my entire apartment, filled with the sounds of sex. After a while I had lost track of who was doing what to whom. First there was Joi eating me, then Araina, then Daire, back to Araina while Daire and Joi got it on with each other. I looked up at the mirror on my ceiling. We were like beautiful black vines entwined with one another.
My friends fucked, made love, and had sex with me that day. At one point they had me on all fours doing a train on me. Each got her chance to fuck my ass and cunt. Araina even had the nerve to fuck my snatch with my own dildo! That bitch! It was fabulous. I came and came and came and came and came all over again.
After sex we curled up under the blankets. Our bodies warmed one another. As Araina, Daire, and Joi all drifted off to sleep, I kissed each one good night. This is what life was about. Friends. They were always there to lift a gal’s spirit. Hey, that’s what friends are for.
The Erotic Adventures of Jim and Louella Parsons
Bertice Berry
It all started when Jim couldn’t get it up. I guess I should find another way to say it, but we just country folks. That’s how we put it. That was two months ago, and he been ’fraid to try ever since. Anyway, we been married for twenty-six years and have had more than our share in the love department. We youngish still; both in our fifties, and we got a lot of love left. I told Jim just that, but it didn’t help none. In all our years of marriage ahead and three before, I have never seen him so upset. Jim has a lot of pride. He don’t like the idea of not being able to do his business. I stopped trying to talk sense into him and did the next best thing.
Now, I had learned years before not to take stock in none of those women’s magazines. Their sex tips usually included some food or saran wrap. Jim didn’t like nothing too messy. He said the only thing he wants wet is me. Anyway, whenever things were tough with me and Jim, I pray that God will give me strength, make me humble and show me where I’m wrong. Then I talk to the ancestors. I talk to them like they still alive, too. I just do it in my sleep. They always know the answers. This time I call on the women: my mama, Aunt T, and Grandma Sadie. They a hoot.
Mama say, “Hey, girl. Don’t say a word. We know just why we here.”
“Uh huh,” Aunt T say. “Jim can’t do the do.”
Grandma Sadie tell them to hush. She say, “They men weren’t too good no time.” She say it’s better to have a man who have it but lose it all the way once, than one who never lose it but only halfway does it the rest of the time.
Now I laugh. Grandma Sadie tell me that our problem is that we done got way too comfortable with each other. She say we hit it every Wednesday and sometimes on Sunday (depending on how good my fried chicken is). Until then, I didn’t know about that connection, but I vow to take more time with Sunday dinner from that point on.
Mama say, “Girl, you need to spice things up a bit, fix your hair and put on a little makeup.”
Mama know that I ain’t into nothing too fancy, but I remind her anyway. Aunt Sadie say I need to learn some other positions. She say I got the wife and the mother part down pat, but I need to be a bit more whorish in the bedroom.
Grandma Sadie say, “Hush. Good loving ain’t in no makeup, and it certainly ain’t in no slutty ways. If the man want a whore, he pay one.”
Grandma Sadie say the loving in the bedroom is in all th
e things you do before you get there. She also say me and Jim are real good to each other, better than most, but we need to find each another all over again.
I ask her what she mean, and she say, “Girl, when the last time you rubbed that man’s behind?” Before I can act shocked or tell her “never,” she say, “Uh huh, that’s what I’m talking about. Jim knows what he got, and he thinks he knows how he likes it. What makes a man hot is making his woman hot. He thinks he knows just what to touch and how to touch it. In all the years you’ve been married and all the time you were sneaking before, Jim ain’t had to figure out too much. He made you happy in bed because he made you happy in life. But girl, there’s a lot more you should be doing.”
At that point, I want to ask what, but I hear Jim getting up so I do too. I roll over and see Jim lying on his stomach. I can tell that he’s feeling badly because it’s Wednesday, and in the morning he’s usually feeling like he want it. Most times, but not always, he gets it too. Usually, I wait for him to come to me, but this time I go to him. I rubbed Jim’s behind slow and soft at first. I hear him moaning real low.
“Mmm, baby, that feels good,” he say.
I rub it some more and he turn over. And I see what I haven’t seen in a long time. Mr. Jim, that’s what I call him, is standing at full attention. Jim so excited he can’t wait to say hello to Miss Lou. That’s what he call me down there, on account of my name is Louella. Jim open my legs quicker than he usually do. He ain’t wait to see if I’m ready, but I don’t care, seeing his joy make me too happy to say anything. As soon as Jim try to get in Miss Lou, he loses himself.
Best Black Women's Erotica Page 18