Man Swappers

by Cairo

  Persia cranes her neck, looks back at him and me. A mixture of delightful pleasure and disgust etched on her face. She hates herself for loving this scene. “Aaaah, shit...oooh, the dick is good... beat my pussy up...”

  I cut my eyes over at Paris who is now wide-eyed, looking up at us with her mouth slightly parted. She licks her lips.

  “Tear...his...ass...up,” she encourages in between groans of pleasure. She is clearly in her own zone. She has sped up the thrusts and the machine’s arm is power-fucking her so fast it almost looks like steam is coming from out of her pussy. “Fuck... her...good, Damon...ooooh...”

  She gasps as the machine’s fucking-arm slams in and out of her. Her head thrashes from side to side. Her eyes flutter and roll back in her head. Her body shakes.

  Damon grabs Porsha’s hips, speeds his thrusts. “Oh shit...I wanna nut...oh fuuuuck...I feel it coming...”

  “Nooooo,” Porsha whines. “I wanna suck your dick first, then let you nut all over my face.”

  He pulls his dick out of her. I slowly pull the dildo out of him. We’re all sweating and panting. He yanks the condom off as Porsha quickly hangs her head over the side of the bed. Damon stands over her and feeds her his cock. He leans forward, plays with her clit while I pull open his cheeks and slide back in. I grind my hips into him. He grinds his hips into Porsha’s face. She has his dick all the way down in her throat, reaching up and massaging his balls. She lightly squeezes them.

  “Ohhhh...shiiiit...ohhh fuck...”

  “You like this dick in you?” I ask him, knowingly. But I ask anyway because I like hearing the answer. I slap him on his ass again. He grunts, pulls his cock out of Porsha’s throat. She reaches between her legs and plays with herself. Damon’s tongue hangs outta the side of his mouth. He is panting like a puppy in heat. I pull out again, slowly rotate my hips and slide back in. Repeat the process three more times, then slam back into him. Slow grind. Tip drill. Slam. Slow grind. Tip drill. Slam.

  Damon shudders; grunts again. “Uh...uh...uh...aaaaah... ooooh, fuuuck...”

  Two minutes later, without hands, lips, or tongue on his cock, he shoots his nut over Porsha’s head; his cum splattering all over her stomach and titties. He smears his creamy dick over her lips. I watch on as she licks the head, then slips him deep into her mouth, sucking him back to life.

  Paris

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Hello, Paradise Boutique?” I answer, folding a multicolored pile of designer tees.

  “Wassup, Paradise? Can a brotha finally get your name?” the familiar voice asks. Against my will, I smile at the sound of his deep, sexy voice. “Or do I have to keep coming in droppin’ paper?”

  “Sir, who’s speaking?” I ask, suppressing a giggle.

  “Oh, here we go wit’ this. I’m the tall, dark, handsome bruh who came in and copped two expensive-ass pocketbooks for my moms. Don’t front like you don’t remember me, ma.”

  “Mmmm, I don’t recall any man with that description coming in here,” I tease. “And we don’t call them pocketbooks. They’re handbags and clutches.”

  “Yeah, aiiiight, Paradise. Let you tell it. But, let me come through and refresh ya memory.” The shop’s door opens. I crane my neck over my shoulder to see who is walking in and almost drop the phone.

  “Oh, you,” I say, laughing.

  He chuckles. “Yeah, okay. You remember me now?” He’s casually dressed in a pair of designer jeans and a short-sleeved red Polo shirt with its large white emblem. He has a matching red Yankees-fitted with white lettering pulled down over his eyes. His hood swagger is making my pussy overheat.

  “Well, yeah,” I say nonchalantly, walking back over to the counter. “Now I do. But you made a mistake and described yourself as handsome.” But your ass is F-I-N-E! “That was a bit ambitious, don’t you think?” I try to keep a straight face.

  He laughs. “Yo, you got jokes, I see. Yeah, aiight. It’s all good. I’ll be ambitious.”

  I smirk. “And so you should. And, what’s your name again?”

  “Desmond. But, my peeps call me Dez. And yours?”

  I grin. “I never told you my name, remember?”

  He laughs. “Oh, damn. Right-right. So you gonna give it to me, or am I gonna have to keep comin’ through until you do?”

  I smile, flirtatiously. “I guess you’ll have to keep coming through.”

  “Yeah, aiight. I like the sound of that.” He tells me is going to keep calling me Paradise until I tell him my name. The way he says it makes my pussy purr. Lord, give me strength not to fuck this man right here in the middle of this store. Flush these whorish thoughts from my nasty-ass mind. I smile to myself as he leans over onto the counter, his forearms resting on top, staring at me. “So what’s good, Paradise? What you like to do for fun?”

  I like to fuck! I eye him back. Take his presence in. Imagine him having a long, black dick—thick and veiny with a huge mushroom-head. Subconsciously, I slowly lick my lips, imagining they’re his dick. My mouth and pussy start to water. I shake my lusty thoughts out of my head. “Why, is this an interview?”

  He smiles. “Could be.”

  The phone rings as three customers walk in. “Saved by the bell,” I say, grinning. I answer. It’s a woman calling to see if we carry used Louis Vuitton bags. I tell her no. Tell her to call a consignment shop. She tells me that’s what she thought this was. I hang up, shaking my head. I excuse myself, then walk over to where the three women are. I can feel his eyes on me, studying the sway of my hips, counting the number of times my ass bounces as I make my way over to them. I glance over my shoulder, catching him. He grins. I playfully roll my eyes. He watches as I help each woman select her items. Waits as I ring up their individual purchases, then smiles at me as they walk out the door.

  “Now back to our conversation,” he says, glancing at his watch. “Let’s go chill somewhere. Grab a bite to eat and get better acquainted.”

  “And how do I know you won’t take me somewhere and try to have your way with me?” I tease. Flirting with this man seems so natural. There’s something about him that I find...intriguing. Yeah, that’s it. He’s piqued my curiosity. I want to see him naked and stretched out.

  He laughs. “Baby, I’d never do anything you don’t want me to. But, for now, I’m only interested in feeding you.”

  I admit. I’m starved. But, I’m not sure if my hunger pangs are for food or for this delicious hunk of man standing in front of me. They’re for both, bitch! Feed us!

  “I like the sound of that. Where would you like to go?”

  He shrugs. “It’s whatever. You tell me.”

  The store phone rings, again. I tell him to give me a minute as I pick up. It’s Persia. “Paradise Boutique,” I answer out of habit. I take my key and lock the register.

  “You wanna meet up for lunch?”

  “Well,” I say, looking over at Mr. Sexy. He winks at me. “I have plans already.”

  “Plans with whom?” she asks, being her usual nosey self.

  I cover the mouthpiece of the phone. “Give me one second, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  “It’s cool,” he says. “I’ll wait on you for as long as you need me to.” Innuendo drips from his tone. I smile, placing the phone back up to my ear.

  “Hello? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here,” I say, walking to the back office.

  “Well, I asked who you had plans with, then it sounded muffled.”

  “I was with a customer,” I tell her, unlocking the safe, then placing the register key in. “Anyway, to answer your question, Miss Nosey-Ass, I’m meeting a business acquaintance out for lunch.” The lie quickly rolls off my tongue without much thought. She doesn’t need to know anything about him, I think, going into the bathroom to freshen up. Yes, I’m a grown woman capable of doing whatever I want, with whomever I want. Yet, as close as we are, I still feel the need to keep some things—like the sexy nigga waiting on me, from Persia—at least, for a while. I tell h
er my lunch date is with a young designer interested in having some of his one-of-a-kind designs in our boutique. She wants to know more. Wants to know where we’re going to eat. I tell her I am unsure. That’s the only truth to this whole conversation. I glance at the time. It’s twelve-thirty. I tell her I have to get going. Tell her we’ll talk when I get home tonight. Two minutes later, we hang up and I am walking back out to the front of the store with my handbag and keys.

  He’s standing in the same spot, waiting. He smiles when he sees me.

  “Sorry about that. It was my sister.”

  “Ah, you good, ma. It’s your world. I’m just tryna fit in.”

  I flash him a wide smile, pulling my shades down over my eyes. “Would you like for me to drive?” I ask as I place the BE BACK IN AN HOUR sign in the window on the door.

  “Nah, baby, you wit’ me. I got this. The only thing you gotta do is tell me where you wanna go.” He disarms the alarm to his truck, then opens the door for me. He waits until I slide in, then shuts it. I’m impressed with his gentlemanly ways. I fasten my seatbelt. He climbs into the driver’s side, turning the ignition. “It’s me and you now, Paradise. Let’s go eat.” He pulls off.

  I smile, resting my head back. “Yes, let’s eat.” And the first chance I get I’m gonna be eating the nut out of that dick!

  Porsha

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you. How’d your meeting go the other day?” Persia asks Paris, taking a sip from her wineglass. We’re having one of our usual nightcaps, unwinding from our day. Tonight’s wine of choice is Belondrade y Lurton Rueda, a delicious Spanish white wine. Dwele is playing low in the background.

  Paris makes a face, giving her a confused look. “What meeting?”

  “Uh, helllllllooooo. The meeting you had with some hot new designer who wants to sell some of his designs at the store.”

  She laughs. “Ohhh, that meeting. Girl, it went really well. I like really him.”

  “Okay, now I’m feeling left out,” I say, tucking a leg underneath me. I take a sip of my wine, smacking my lips. “Mmmph, I can drink this all night.” I am sitting on the sofa next to Paris. Persia is sitting in the chair across from us.

  “I know,” Paris agrees. “We’ll end up being a bunch of drunken winos, messing with this bottle.”

  I laugh.

  “Uh, excuse you,” Persia says, laughing with me. “Speak for yourself. Now finish telling us about this designer.”

  Paris takes a large gulp of wine. “There’s not much to tell. He’s fresh out of F.I.T. with his MFA. And his designs are definitely edgy.”

  “Well, all I wanna know is,” I say, hoisting my glass up. “Is he fuckable? Or is he a Tutti Frutti?”

  She laughs. “Girl, I don’t know. I wasn’t looking at him like that.”

  I roll my eyes. “Girlfriend, you don’t have to be looking at him like that. But you can still tell if he’s someone we can slide down on the dick with, or if he’s someone we’ll be buying heels with.”

  She keeps laughing. “Girl, I’m not messing with you.”

  “Well, then. On another note,” Persia says, abruptly changing the subject, “my pussy’s twitching for some dick. Y’all feel like fucking tonight?” It’s been almost a week since our sexapade with Damon. And like usual, Pesia has tossed back three glasses of wine and is ready for another round of dick.

  Paris and I both say, “Sure.”

  “Who do you have in mind?” I ask, taking another slow sip from my glass. Aside from Damon, I wonder how many other men secretly seek ass play with women. And how many openly admit it.

  “How about we invite Emerson over for some pussy? It’s been a while since we’ve worked him over. Hopefully it’ll prove my suspicions of him wrong.” She picks up her cell and dials his number. When he doesn’t answer, she leaves a message. “Hey, baby, it’s Persia. There are three hot, horny, pussies here wanting to get fucked good tonight. Come through and feed us that big dick.” She disconnects, then texts him. “If he doesn’t call or text back in fifteen minutes or so, or isn’t ringing this doorbell in thirty minutes, his number gets deleted.”

  “Mmmm, that’s too bad,” I say, closing my eyes and imagining sucking on his dick again. That nigga has some of the best dick cream I’ve tasted. I lick my lips. “I can sure use another round of that nut.”

  Paris laughs, knowingly. “I second that emotion.”

  An hour and a half goes by, we are on our second bottle of wine, and Emerson still hasn’t called back. Nor has he responded to Persia’s text.

  “Mmmph,” I grunt, glancing at my watch, “looks like we won’t be hearing from Emerson tonight.”

  Paris agrees. “It sure looks that way, doesn’t it? Come to think of it, this makes it the second time he’s done this.”

  “No, try his third,” Persia states, reaching for her cell. “Delete, delete, delete. His ass is officially cut from the team.”

  Paris and I watch her walk out of the room. I close my eyes when Will’s “Full Course Meal” from his Sex Tape mix starts playing. And that’s exactly what Emerson had. An entrée of perky tits, juicy asses and hot, wet pussies he could have any time he wanted. But, obviously it wasn’t enough. Surprisingly, I’m disappointed. And I’m not exactly sure why. From the beginning, although I haven’t been able to put my finger on it, I’ve always felt like there was something different about Emerson. Anytime he was fucking me, or I was sucking his dick, he always wanted to look into my eyes. He always kissed me longer than he would Persia or Paris. It always felt like he wanted to make love to me, not fuck me like he’d fuck my sisters. I never said anything, but I noticed it. I wonder if they noticed it, too. Then again, they could probably not care less.

  “Greedy niggas always fuck up a good thing,” I say, shaking my head.

  “They sure do,” Paris agrees, taking a sip from her wineglass. “But all well-traveled roads must eventually come to an end. And his has run its course straight into a dead end, good dick and all.”

  I nod, thoughtfully, but don’t say anything. Truth is, I’m going to miss fucking him. He isn’t only a good pussy eater with good dick. He knows how to be a passionate lover. I think. Remember the first time we fucked him.

  We had him strapped to the bed, blindfolded and naked. His wrists and ankles tightly cinched in padded cuffs. Arms and legs stretched out wide. The thought of him wanting to be helpless and completely at our mercy, made my pussy pulsate, made it clench with need. A warm, sticky wetness seeped between my thighs from anticipation.

  I grazed my lips over his skin, placing soft kisses along the curve of his neck, his shoulders, along the center of his chest while Persia lowered the smoothly waxed lips of her cunt to his mouth, then leaned forward on her arms as he nuzzled his nose into her hot, dripping pussy and suckled on her creamy essence.

  His thick, rigid cock bounced freely. It’s tip, leaking precum.

  I licked my lips, catching the drool that gathered in the corners of my mouth as I took his scorching hot dick into my hand and stroked it, then slipped it into my hungry mouth. Paris watched from across the room. Her pussy splayed open by teasing fingers.

  We taunted him, teased him; edged him to the brink of an orgasm. Each of us alternated feeding him our pussies, challenging him to use his senses to figure out which one of us mounted his face, his cock, next. We ground our hips against him, allowed him to savor the heat before lifting up, then switching positions. His mouth full of pussy, he moaned in pleasure. Groaned from the unexpected, twisted and jolted until he erupted spurts of hot, flowing lava.

  “...I’m going to call that little sexy waiter from the Je’s...”

  I shift in my seat. Persia’s voice slices into my thoughts. I look up and bring my attention back to her. She has her cell pressed up against her ear, holding the receipt he wrote his number on between her fingers.

  Paris’s eyes light up. “Girl, are you serious? Leave that boy alone.”

  “Leave him al
one, hell. Let him answer and bring his ass over here. He’s gonna go from manchild to man with three clicks of this pussy.” She pats her crotch. “Then get turned the fuck out.”

  Paris shakes her head. “Persia, you know like I do that he is nowhere near ready for us.”

  “You don’t know that. But, ready or not, that little motherfucker was sexy as hell and looked like he had some good dick. And I want some of it, damn it. Now are you hookers with me?”

  “Ooh, ooh, ooh,” I say, raising my hand. “I am.”

  “Well, count me out of this one,” Paris says as she takes a slow slip of her drink. Sometimes she can be such a party pooper. “I don’t want anything to do with robbing that young boy of his innocence. But I’ll sit back and watch the two of you turn him out.”

  Persia waves her on. “Girl, hush. There isn’t anything innocent about his ass; trust me. You saw how he looked at us when... hello, is this Royce? Hey, baby boy, it’s Persia. You waited on my sisters and me a few weeks ago...yes, the sexy- ass triplets...I see you remember...” She gives me and Paris one of those “see I told you” half-nods.

  “This bitch is crazy,” I say, laughing. She waves me on.

  “Look...what are you doing now? Oh, really. Well, are you up for some wet, juicy pussy? Yes, now...”

  Paris shakes her head. “Pour me another drink,” she says to me, holding her glass out. “I can tell I’m gonna need to be lit the hell up for what y’all about to do to that poor boy.”

  I laugh. “Don’t blame it on the alcohol, boo. If he comes through, he’s coming as a willing participant.”

  “...Oh, and remember, you’ll be fucking all three of us. So make sure you bring enough condoms for more than one round... ohhhh, we shall see, big boy...Well, you just make sure you bring us a clean, hard dick.” She gives him the address, then hangs up.

  She grins, filling her glass with more wine. “Well, y’all freaky bitches, looks like we’re about to get us some young, tender cock tonight.”