Chocolate Flava

by Zane

  I am frozen in place but will myself to move. Damon’s voice stops me in my tracks.

  “Bitch!”

  “What did you say?” I ask, my eyes blinking rapidly.

  “You heard me. I see you’re having about as much fun as one can have,” Damon responds with a hiss.

  “What’s up, boo?” the woman beside him asks, raking his arm with a fingernail. “Why you tripping? I thought this was your idea.”

  “It was,” Damon quipped, taking a quick drag on the cigar that the woman returns to him. “But I thought girlfriend was at least gonna wait before getting this party started. Guess I was wrong.”

  “Damon, what are you talking about?” I am standing directly in front of him, glancing downward. He looks so good lying there in the molded plastic seat, his flat stomach and sinewy muscles seemed to come to life when he shifts his weight. “I…don’t know what you’re saying…I thought you were down with this…I thought you were playing along, waiting—”

  “For what?” he interrupts. “Waiting for what, Josey?” Damon eyes me with disdain. My heart is beating fast and I feel a shiver race across my skin. My male lover takes a swig from a wine bottle and hands it to the woman.

  “Hey, dude, what’s up? I thought everything was cool.” He is still semi-hard and makes no attempt to cover himself up. I flick my eyes over his body, shivering with the memory of the way he impaled me with that succulent piece of meat. Quickly, I glance away.

  “I’m cool with both of you,” Damon says, glancing between the two of them. “It’s her I’ve taken issue with.”

  “Damon—I don’t understand,” I say.

  “It’s simple, really,” Damon responds, getting up while downing the rest of his martini. I step back, not out of fear, but because I suddenly feel intensely uncomfortable inside his space. “This whole thing was actually a test, Josey. A test that you failed.”

  “What?” I implore. “What kind of test?”

  “I wanted to see what you would do—given the circumstance—without me—”

  “Without you? What are you talking about?” I yell, flailing my arms high. “You’ve been here the entire time. You set this up, you just admitted that.”

  “Yes, Josey, but you didn’t know that. I wanted to see how far you’d go. In the room downstairs you didn’t know if I was there or not, but you didn’t let that stop you. You proceeded to get it on, without me. Same thing in the hallway. You didn’t pause to think about what you were doing, fucking some guy without me being there! No, you just proceeded along as if I didn’t exist.”

  The woman walks behind Damon and wraps her arms around his frame, nuzzling her chin in his neck. Her hand snakes down to fondle him.

  “Come on, Damon,” she says. “This is getting a bit too serious, don’t you think? I thought we were all down for some fun,” I hear her remark as she eyes me.

  “I was…”

  I’ve had about as much as I can stand.

  “Let me get this straight, Damon,” I say, my eyes laser beams as they stare straight through him. “You set this up—you were willing to have your friend or whoever this guy is over there fuck me, and her, too,” I add, pointing to the woman stroking his hardening dick. “As long as I what—asked your permission? Oh, and I see that didn’t stop you from partaking in certain pleasures.”

  Damon is silent as he watches me. I shake my head contemptuously.

  I turn to leave as I smooth the wrinkles from my dress. I get about six feet before I twist to face them.

  “You know what? Fuck it and fuck you!” I exclaim before I spin on my heels and stroll toward the exit.

  “You’re just a whore!” Damon yells.

  That comment causes me to cease my movement. I stand perfectly still, my back to the three of them, my chest heaving as I’m fuming inside. There are so many things that I want to say, and my eyes dart around for something to throw his way. But then a calm overtakes me as I recall the luscious passion that coursed through my veins earlier. My legs are still wobbly from the intense fucking, and I can feel the stickiness between my thighs. I lick my lips slowly and taste her.

  I smile to myself as I pivot to Damon one last time.

  “You have no idea,” I say to my lovers and wink.

  And with that I am gone, like a wisp of cigar smoke, into the ether, and out of sight.

  Bon Appétit

  James E. Cherry

  “Please, James.”

  She wanted me to eat her pussy. But brothers don’t do that. Not real brothers, anyway.

  “Please, James,” she cooed, lying on her back, legs wide open, with me sucking her left breast, the nipple firm against my tongue like a hard piece of candy. “I’m so wet.” She took my hand and plunged it toward her crotch, my middle finger making a splash upon entrance. My penis ached with stiffness.

  Saliva drooled from the corner of my mouth as I reluctantly came up for exasperated air. We had been through this before.

  “Baby, I ain’t down with that. Literally ain’t down wit it.” My hand was now wandering through the wilderness of her thickly tangled bush.

  “But you never tell me why.”

  “Ain’t no why.”

  “Well, how can you complain about something you’ve never had? I enjoy doing it to you and I ain’t complaining.”

  “Hey.” I smiled. “I ain’t complaining when you do it either. Just seems more natural for a woman to do it for a man, though.”

  “Why? I like to feel good, too. I don’t always cum when we have intercourse. I want to feel your mouth on me sometimes.” Her voice became heavy with sadness. “Do you not like the way I smell? You have an odor, too, you know.”

  “What do I smell like?”

  “Like dick.”

  “Look.” I was now lying on my back, penis limp as a deflated balloon, hands clasped behind my head, eyes closed, trying to sort and rearrange the many thoughts scattered in my mind. “When I was coming up in the ’hood, if a brother did that the other homeboys would kick him to the curb and call him weak; a chump. You were considered a pussy if you ate pussy. You’re my woman and I want to make you happy, please you, but…I just need a little more time with that.” Suddenly, my mind cleared with a sweeping thought. “Let’s do it doggie-style!”

  I tried to flip her on all fours but she karate-chopped me to the ribs and sent me flat on my back again. “No.” She was atop me like a professional wrestler going for a three count. “Doggie-style hasn’t anything to do with it. How many years has it been since you were raised in the ’hood? And not only that, you’re not in a relationship with the homeboys. You’re in a relationship with me, and if we’re going to be and stay in this relationship, we both have to take as well as give. We’ve been seeing each other for six months and I ain’t got no head yet. And you better be careful. The statute of limitations is running out on blowjobs.”

  “The what?”

  Her nose flared slightly, and her soft hazel eyes stared at me from under neatly arched eyebrows. Her black curls spiraled just past her earlobes complementing her polished pearl teeth. Through slightly parted lips, she kissed me as I whispered, “Sharon.”

  “You like fruit?”

  I smiled back at her and stroked her neck with my index finger. “What you talking ’bout, girl? Is the statute of limitations running out on fruit, too?”

  “Maybe.” She pushed herself up. “Pour yourself another drink.”

  “Where you going, baby?”

  Her firm, brown behind bouncing away from me was her only reply. I really wanted doggie-style now. Instead, I poured a glass of cabernet sauvignon, the sound of the red liquid filling the room. Horace Silver’s compact disc was already loaded on the machine and when I punched play, Hank Mobley was soloing. The more wine I sipped, the more I became one with the silk sheets and puffy pillows. The whole room was soft, powdery, and smelled of perfume the way a woman’s room should smell. Two scented candles flickered from the nightstands, adding another dimension of sen
suousness to the ambiance.

  Suddenly, out of the darkness in the room, a thought illuminated my mind. What did Sharon mean, did I like fruit? She knew I ate fruit for breakfast every morning. Hell, the birthmark on my ass is a strawberry. What was that all about?

  Lying there with a furrowed brow, my thoughts swirling around imported wine, jazz, and inebriated smells, I could hear light switches flipping off and the sound of bare feet slapping against kitchen linoleum. She entered the room with a bowl of fruit in one hand and a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She lay beside me, taking a succulent wet strawberry and feeding me until I nibbled gently upon her fingertips. Then she grabbed another berry, slid down in the bed, spread her legs, and pushed the red fruit inside her vagina.

  “I like lobster, too,” I said. “You think that’ll fit in there? Damn. You played me, girl.”

  Starting deep within the valley between her breasts, my tongue avalanched down her stomach, over her navel, inside the thigh of one leg, around her ten toes and back up to the inside of another thigh, and then I was face-to-face with a fruit cunttail.

  “Wait, wait.” She rose on one elbow, sipped some wine, and then motioned me to proceed. Like a kid forced to eat brussels sprouts, I held my breath, inhaling deeply the smell of wetness and excitement. As if she were a chocolate ice cream cone, I licked and licked and licked until my tongue was going in circular motions, coming to a rest like a roulette wheel on her clitoris. Sharon began to moan and purr and rotate her hips and stroke my bald head as though it were a penis, all the while murmuring, “Oh, James. You make my pussy feel so good.” Then, with her hands still on my head, she began to thrust against my tongue deeper and faster, each thrust punctuated with oohs and ahhs until I sucked the strawberry into my mouth and she screamed and convulsed from orgasmic fury.

  I rose to my knees, chewing the fruit meticulously, savoring its taste, licking my lips for any remaining juices, swallowing every morsel. And it was good, too.

  Before the night was through, I had devoured five strawberries, half a pound of grapes, two pears, sliced peaches, three plums, a banana, half an apple, two oranges, a kiwi, and something called a kumquat (whatever the hell that is).

  “You got any pineapple, baby?” I asked in all seriousness, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

  Hours passed as we made more love and drank and giggled and stroked one another and rested. She cuddled in the crook of my arm, both of us basking in ecstasy’s afterglow. Thelonious Monk was playing now.

  “James.” Her voice sounded far away, dripping with sugar.

  “Yeah, baby.”

  “Is there any more fruit left?”

  “I think so.”

  “Can you lick my ass?”

  I bolted from the bed, scooped my clothes up in a ball, tossed a hat on my head, and tried to balance the act of running while stepping into my pants simultaneously, but not before stubbing my toe and smacking my forehead against a wall.

  “Hell, naw!” I shouted, before closing the front door behind me, stepping out into the cool pink dawn, barefoot, then slowing my gait and reminiscing about the remaining grapes and oranges I had left by the bedside. What a nutritional waste it would be for them to spoil. After all, breakfast is indeed the most important meal of the day.

  First Time Blues: A Real-Life Tale of Lost Virginity

  Fredric Sellers

  Fresh out of boot camp at Parris Island, I was more than ready to face the world as a tried and proven man…a U.S. Marine. This was my first time being on my own, away from home. I was nineteen and still had my virginity, not to say that I haven’t experienced sex. I’ve had many near hits, but was headed off at the pass, so to speak.

  Believe me, I knew what blue balls were, oh, how many times. The girls in my day allowed you to feel their forbidden parts and even on occasion, to dry fuck…but they seldom went further than that. They would send you home harder than times in ’29. Thank God for Bayer aspirins and hot water. It wasn’t until years later that I found out that the girls were getting their cookies and sending us boys home hurting.

  On with my story. Upon graduation from boot camp, I was transferred to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. After a short time there, I went on my first long weekend leave with my new buddies to Wilmington. We traveled by bus, anticipating having a much-needed sexually fulfilling weekend. Upon arriving in Wilmington, our first order of the day was to find the train tracks and do the crossover into black land.

  The three of us finally found a party that was going on at a house on the main drag. People were out on the porch talking, drinking, and some doing weed. They didn’t pay much attention to us as we passed them and entered the house. We walked down a long hallway with rooms on either side. At the end of it, there was a large room where a crowd was dancing to the music from a huge jukebox over in the corner. A few tables and chairs were positioned along the walls.

  The room was dark, with the exception of one blue light bulb in the ceiling. You could barely see who you were dancing with, or talking to. We split up to do our own thing, which was all right with me because I’ve always been a loner anyway. I just stood at a spot close to the wall, which gave me a good vantage point from which I could see at least a little of the crowd. I didn’t want to be too quick in making a move on any of the women. I was told once that the people down in these southern towns weren’t too cool about strangers hitting on their local women. I definitely wasn’t looking for war…I was looking for love.

  I was in luck. I was approached by a foxy, full-figured woman. I mean, she was filled out nice: full bosomed, big shapely legs, and an ass as tight as a window seal! She was on the dark side and with long straight black hair. She had the prettiest smile I’d seen in a long time and light gray eyes to boot. This combination was strange to me, but she was beautiful in her own odd way.

  Her name was Pearlie Mae. I’m serious! Talk about a fitting name! Well anyway, she came on strong to me. We talked for a while, and danced on every slow drag that came on. I was really getting a taste of that southern charm I’d heard so much about. This creature was a real joy to talk to. I felt comfortable with her right away.

  It wasn’t long before she started turning up the heat on me. I could feel her stomach muscles rippling when she pressed her body into mine as we danced. She buried her face under my chin, breathing deep and hot. The fragrance of her warm body filled my nose, causing me to feel warm and lusty. Damn, this woman was turning me on big time. I got bold and embraced her with both arms, with my hands lightly gripping both of her cheeks. I got no resistance from her. Man, I was in my world. My dick was hard and poked into her big time, and she responded by pressing closer. This was one time I was glad the lights were practically nonexistent. Pearlie Mae was the only person I danced with or talked to that night.

  After much talk and belly-rubbing, she asked me if I was staying the weekend and where. I told her I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. She just came out and told me that it wasn’t necessary to spend money on a hotel, when I could stay with her. I couldn’t believe I was having that kind of luck!

  She took my hand and led me out of the house and down the sidewalk. We’d only walked a short distance when she stopped and wrapped her arms around me, and kissed me full and deep. Before I could catch my breath, she had placed her warm hands lightly over my crotch and slowly started rubbing me…all this in the middle of the sidewalk! I just knew this was going to be a night to remember. We continued walking and talking…and stroking. I was relishing every bit of this action.

  Now check this out. All of a sudden she stopped short and left me standing alone as she started running up a driveway between two houses…pulling up her skirt as she ran. I said to myself, Damn, she just couldn’t wait till we got to her place, she wanted to do something now. Shiiiit, I was all for this carrying-on! I followed her up the drive while unbuckling my belt and unzipping my pants.

  Pearlie disappeared in the rear of one of the houses, and by the time I caugh
t up with her, my pants were down below my knees and my dick was sticking out of my shorts. I was ready! My jaws dropped to my chest when I saw her. She was in a full squat, and piss was coming out of her like water out of a faucet. I swear! She looked at me in a cute way and said, “A girl got to do what a girl got to do.” I felt a little embarrassed as I pulled up my pants and put everything back in order. I thought to myself that I couldn’t wait to tell my buddies about this shit! But I knew I wouldn’t, because I’ve always been very closemouthed about my business.

  We continued our walk to her place. After a few blocks, we turned up a small dirt street across from some hole-in-the-wall joint. Low-down-and-dirty blues was playing loud. We walked a short ways, passing a row of old small houses, finally reaching hers. I watched her from behind as she climbed the three short steps to her porch. The sensuous way her body moved aroused me again. At first I thought the way she swayed her hips was exaggerated, but I soon realized that it was her natural walk. I still couldn’t believe my luck!

  She unlocked the door, then grabbed my hand and led me in. I could smell kerosene lamps she used for light…there was no electricity. It was a small place. One bedroom, a living room, and a kitchen. Seating me in a sofa chair, she lit one of the lamps. Even though I was amazed at the lack of anything modern, I could deal with it. The only thing I had on my mind was getting next to this pretty thing.