Man Swappers

by Cairo

  He squeezes my ass; grinds deep in me. “Damn, what the fuck you tryna do to me?”

  “Sssh,” I say, looking up at him, pressing a finger to my lips. “Just dance.”

  Three songs later, Emerson and I are still grinding in the middle of his floor, no words being said. His arms feel so good wrapped around me. His hard body feels good against mine. I don’t want this feeling to end.

  Then don’t let it.

  I have to.

  Then what the fuck are you doing here?

  Living in the moment.

  Mmmph, if you say so. And exactly where are you going with this?

  I don’t know.

  Bitch, you can’t lead this man on.

  I’m not. We’re simply two consenting adults enjoying each other’s company.

  This man wants more from you. He has feelings for you. He’s a good man.

  I know he is.

  Then what the fuck do you want from him?

  I don’t know.

  What are your feelings toward him?

  I don’t know...

  I glance up at Emerson; he’s gazing at me. Catching me off-guard, his mouth opens and he’s kissing me, loving me with his mouth—thick, luscious lips pressing against mine, pulling in my bottom lip. I’m scrambling for footing before I slip and fall into his web; his tongue weaving its way deep into my mouth. Slowly, without much resistance, I’ve become entangled in a maze of passion.

  “Why are we still dancing?” he finally asks, coming up for air.

  My breath catches in my throat. “Because it feels good.” He asks if this is what I want to do all night; stand here, grinding and teasing him. He presses his dick into me for emphasis.

  “No,” I gasp.

  “Good,” he says, scooping me up in his arms, then laying me down on the bed. He kisses my stomach, then trails his kisses up to my breasts, my nipples, then back down to my navel. “I’m gonna make love to you tonight.”

  I flash him a breathless smile, spreading open my legs as he rolls on a condom. He glides his dick back and forth over my slit, slaps it up against my clit, then slides into me. I grab him by the ass. Pull him in deep, inviting him into a night of passion.

  Like a hot knife, his rhythmic thrusts slice into the center of my pussy, melting my sugary walls. And, before long, I’m coating every inch of his cock with a hot, sticky paste. He reaches a hand underneath me, strokes my titties, then runs his fingers down my body toward the front of my pussy. He seeks my clit, rubbing it with two fingertips. His circling fingers and the stroking of his dick morphs my swelling river into a roaring ocean of hot, foamy waves of orgasms, each wave crashing against my inner walls and splashing up against his dick. I’m drowning him in my wetness. I clutch his shaft, milk the length of him with each stroke, sending him into trembling moans of candy-coated joy.

  “Ohhh, shit...aaah...oh Passion...aaah, fuck, baby...Your pussy’s so fuckin’ good.”

  “Is it as good as my sisters’?” I ask him this, knowing I’m putting him on the spot. The truth is I already know the answer: all three of us have good pussy. Damn good pussy. I only want to see how he responds.

  He grunts, slows his thrusts. “Your pussy is better.” He looks me in the eyes when he says this. He cups my ass, pulls me in, burying his dick deep. “Oh, shit...much better.”

  “Lose your dick in me,” I whisper to him, gliding my fingertips along his spine, until my hands rests on his firm ass. I squeeze his cheeks, pulling him deeper into me. I look in his piercing brown eyes; connect with his troubled soul. Tonight, whatever his issues might be, they don’t exist; they don’t matter.

  As he moves his body, I move mine. Our hands, our bodies, our lips, our tongues are dancing to the same music. Our grunts and moans are in beat to our rhythm.

  “Fuck me...” I whisper. Squeezing my ass in his hands, he pounds his dick into my warm, eager cunt. I moan as he plunges his way in, moving slowly at first, then faster.

  I glance up at the mirror-covered ceiling at our lusty liaison. I smile at the sweaty reflection of his muscled back, my legs wrapped around his waist, as I greedily meet his thrusts.

  His breathing becomes ragged. I grab his dick; clench my muscles around it. Urge him to release his seed and unload deep in me.

  Our bodies intertwine. Our lips lock and dance as we thrust and crash into each other; hips grinding and bucking. Sweat dripping. He grunts and groans; fucks and sucks and holds onto me, hoping to stretch out the night for as long as he can. He’s a desperate, horny lover, needing, wanting our connection to go on forever. But the reality is, it can’t. And it won’t. Lord knows, I can’t let it.

  Paris

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Hi, Mom,” I say, answering my cell. “How was your trip to Vegas?”

  “It was good. Of course, your Aunt Penny and Lucky almost got into it, again. The two of them are like oil and water. They really don’t mix. But other than that, it was great. We saw the Temptations perform and had the seafood buffet at Rios. That was really nice. The food was delicious. Then, of course, we saw the water show at the Bellagio. And one night we went to see some kind of sex show at that hotel New York, New York.”

  “A sex show?” I asked surprised. “You? Were there naked bodies and people actually having sex?”

  “Oh, heavens no,” she says, chuckling. “Now you know I wouldn’t be in for none of that nastiness. It wasn’t really a sex show. It was erotic.” I ask her what the name of it was. She says she can’t recall. Tells me it started with a Zee.

  I smile, shaking my head. “Zumanity?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Whew, they were some kinda freaks up in there. I told Fanny I could see you, Persia and Porsha up there doing all that na—”

  “Mom,” I interrupt before she can finish. “Don’t. I’m enjoying the conversation; let’s not spoil it.”

  “Well, what did I do now?”

  I catch myself from letting out an exasperated sigh. “Nothing, Mom; let’s move on. So what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

  “I wanted to tell you that I love you. And that I thought about what you said the last time we spoke. And I want you to know that I heard you. And I’ve heard your father and your Aunt Penny.” She pauses. “I’m going to do better. Of course, Lucky and Fanny think I should be raising holy hell at how you girls treat me. They think it’s—”

  “Mother,” I snap, feeling myself starting to get annoyed. “What’s wrong with you? You say something nice, then you turn around and piss all over it with craziness.”

  “Paris, what in the world did I say that was so crazy? I’m simply telling you that I heard you. And that I’m going to do better. I want a relationship with my daughters. All three of you.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. There’s hope after all. “Thank you. That’s all I want is for us to be able to get along and spend time together.”

  “Me, too. So let’s put what has happened behind us.” I tell her I’d like that. “Let’s spend the day together, you and me.”

  I frown. “What about Porsha and Persia? I thought you said you wanted to have a relationship with all three of us.”

  “I do. I’m hoping to do something with each of you, separately.” I decide to stay optimistic, knowing she’ll have a better chance of dancing with the devil than she will at getting Persia to go anywhere alone with her. I tell her I’m sure they’d like that. Tell her I’d really like spending the day somewhere with her. I ask her what she’d like to do. “Let’s drive out to Woodbury Common,” she says. “I want a new pocketbook. And, hopefully, I can find a wedding gift for Pasha, too.” Although driving for an hour to a shopping outlet isn’t exactly what I’d hoped for, I see it as her way of extending an olive branch. So I graciously accept her offering.

  “I’d like that. When do you want to go?” She tells me toward the end of next month. “Okay, that sounds good. I’m looking forward to it. Thanks, Mom.”

  “For what?”

  “For trying.
”

  “Well, despite what you girls think, I do love you. And I’m always going to be your mother. And I’m always going to have my opinions.”

  I take a deep breath. “Mom—”

  “But, I’m going to try to keep them to myself.”

  I smile. “That’s all we ask,” I say as two customers walk into the boutique. “Mom, I have to go. Thanks for calling. Give Daddy a hug for me, and you enjoy the rest of your day.”

  “I will. You enjoy yours as well.”

  As soon as I hang up, the phone rings again. I answer on the third ring. “Paradise Boutique, how can I help you?”

  “You can help me by going away with me,” the deep, baritone voice says.

  I smile. “And why should I do that?”

  He laughs. “’Cause I can’t stop thinkin’ ’bout ya sexy ass. You’ve become my love drug.”

  I laugh as well. “Oh, okay, Raheem DeVaughn. What you gonna do now, sing?”

  He keeps laughing. “Yo, if that’s what it’s gonna take to get a yes, then hell yeah.” He starts singing.

  “Oh, nooooooo,” I say, laughing. “Please don’t.”

  “Am I gonna get a yes?”

  “Let me think about it.”

  “Yo, you killin’ me, ma. You got me sprung.”

  “Oh, please,” I say, laughing. “You don’t even know me. And you probably say that to all the girls.”

  “Nah, I ain’t that dude. I keep shit a hunnid, ma. I don’t know you, know you, but what I know so far, I’m diggin’. And I wanna get to know you better. But, I tell you what. We can hold off on going away—for now, if you come chill wit’ me down in Atlantic City for the night.”

  “I’m flattered,” I say, smiling. “But—”

  “No ‘but’, ma. So wassup? Spend one day wit’ me, and let’s see what happens. If you ain’t feelin’ me after that...cool. We part ways and go on ’bout our business.”

  “How ’bout you part my cunt lips with your tongue,” I hear myself saying, feeling a rush of heat searing through me as I replay our night together. Blood rushes to my clit. I close my eyes. Feel his fingers on the curve of my hips, pulling my pussy deeper into his mouth, burying his tongue in between my soft, sticky folds. I’m horny. And I want to fuck him again.

  “I tell you what. Come lick my pussy.”

  He laughs. “Yo, you wildin’, ma.”

  “I’m not laughing,” I tell him low and sexy. “I don’t have on any panties.”

  “Yo, don’t tease me, ma,” he says in a throaty whisper.

  I smile. There is definitely a lot of sexual chemistry between the two of us. But more than that, I really am starting to like him. “I’m not. Does it sound like I’m teasing? I wanna feel your tongue. Don’t you wanna taste this pussy, again?”

  “Hell, yeah I do. I wanna get all up in that shit. You got my dick hard as steel right now.”

  I moan. “Mmmm...I like the sound of that. The store closes at six. Bring me that hard-ass dick, and that long tongue.”

  “I’ll be there at five-fifty-nine.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” I say before disconnecting.

  Porsha

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I’m naked standing in front of my mirror, staring at my reflection. Jaguar Wright’s “Do Your Worst” is playing on my Bose stereo. I sway a bit as I oil my body. Do your worst...but damn it...make sure it’s your best... I grab the remote from off the dresser and raise the volume. I part my thighs, massaging my clit. I work myself up to an orgasm, then stop when I feel myself on the brink of coming. I walk into the bathroom to retrieve my bottle of Wet, then squirt some all over my Luna Pleasure Beads. I slip the weighted balls into my pussy, then slide on a pair of black spandex shorts and a matching tank top. While I’m out getting my two-mile run on, I’ll be working my pussy muscles out as well. I love the feeling of those tiny vibrations rippling through my pussy as my feet hit the pavement. My walls milk these balls, trying to keep them from slipping out. Thirty minutes a day and this pussy stays extra tight.

  I step into my Nikes, humming along to Jaguar as she sings the shit out of this song. I don’t understand...how I can I tell you what it takes to make me happy...and for some reason whyyyy... you only seem to do what makes me crazy....

  Persia walks in, wearing a pair of pink short-shorts and a white tank top. Her dark nipples are showing through her shirt. “You off to the gym?”

  “No, the park,” I tell her, pulling my hair up into a ponytail. I turn the music down, then walk over and pick up my cell. The flashing red light alerts me that I have new messages or missed calls. “You should run with me,” I say as I scroll through my phone. I have four text messages.

  “No thanks, boo. I’ll save my running for the treadmill downstairs.” We have a customized state-of-the-art gym in our basement that we use regularly; still it’s nice to get out and run in the breeze.

  “Mmmph. Suit yourself. It’s a gorgeous day out. You never know who we might run into while we’re out running in the park. Oh, Irwin sent me a text. He’ll be in town this Saturday. He wants to know if we’re still on.”

  “Of course,” she says, patting between her legs. “Momma could use a good feeding. Tell him to make sure he pops a Viagra and a Cialis mix so he’s extra hard and ready to knock this pussy out the frame.”

  I laugh, texting him to let him know we’re still on. “Girl, you’re a damn mess. You’re trying to send that man to the ER. You know that shit would have his dick about to explode. Shit, it might break off.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, hopefully, right into my pussy.”

  I laugh with her. “Girl, your ass is crazy. Have you talked to Paris today? I tried calling her and sent her a text earlier, but haven’t heard back from her.”

  “No, I haven’t spoken to her. Hmmm. Come to think of it, she’s been M-I-A lately. Whenever I call or text her, she takes forever to get back to me. That’s not like her.”

  I’ve noticed it, too, but don’t mention it. “Maybe it’s been hectic down at the boutique.”

  “Yeah, but the store closes at six. Sometimes I’ll send her text around seven or eight and it takes her almost an hour or more to respond back.”

  I shrug. She means well, but sometimes Persia forgets we don’t have to answer to her. That she’s not our mother. “Paris is a big girl. I’m sure she has her reasons for not responding back as quickly as you’d like. Fact is, she’s a grown woman.”

  She frowns. “Well, shoot me for caring,” she says, sounding offended. “I realize she’s grown. And she doesn’t have to answer to me. Still, I worry. We’re all we’ve got. We have to always look out for each other.”

  “And we do. But you don’t have to always think the worst when one of us doesn’t text or call you right back. I don’t mean to sound messy, but we have lives outside of you.”

  She huffs, putting her hands up on her hips. “Oh, and I don’t?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, sounds like you’re implying it. I’ve never said or thought the two of you didn’t have a life outside of me. All I’m saying is, I worry; that’s it. And having the decency to let someone know you’re not coming home is about common courtesy.”

  And trying to control us, I think, knowing she’ll never admit it. I decide I’ve had enough of this conversation. “Paris and I recognize how much you worry about us. And we appreciate you for that, sis.” I walk over and give her a hug. She hugs me back. “I don’t wanna fight with you. But I’ll beat your ass if need be.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, right. You wish.”

  “Well, let me get out of here so I can get to the park. These beads are already working my pussy muscles overtime and I haven’t even started my run yet.” She laughs, reaching between her legs and pulling at the opening of her shorts. She shows me the string dangling from her slit. I frown, grabbing my iPod. “Ugh! Hooker, TMI.”

  She laughs. “Oh, but it wasn’t too much information for you to tell me about the be
ads in your pussy.”

  “But I didn’t show you my snatch, did I? Big difference, nasty ass.” She follows me out the room, then down the stairs.

  “Whatever. It’s not like you haven’t seen it many times before.”

  I grab my keys, then walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of Dasani out of the ’fridge. “Yeah, don’t remind me. That ugly thing gives me nightmares. I swear I think it has teeth.”

  She laughs, playfully swatting at me. “Yeah, right. You wish. I have a pretty pussy, boo. Don’t hate.”

  “Lies,” I say, laughing as I head toward the door. “I’ll see your freaky ass later.”

  “Takes a freak to know one, boo,” she says, closing the door behind me. I wave her on, dismissively, disarming my car. I slide in, start the engine, then drive off.

  An hour and a half later, I’m heading home when my music fades and my cell rings through the speakers. It’s Emerson. I grin as I answer. “Hello.”

  “Hey, beautiful. How you?”

  “I’m good. What’s up with you?”

  “Chillin’; thinking about you.”

  I smile. “That’s sweet of you.”

  “What you got planned for the day? I was hoping we could catch a movie and grab a bite to eat later on.”

  I blink. Outside of meeting him a few times at the Sheraton, going out in public isn’t something we’ve done thus far. Fucking him behind closed doors is how I’ve wanted to keep things between us—for now. At least, until I can figure out what I want. However, I thought keeping this thing between us under wraps is what we both agreed on. “I can’t,” I tell him. “How about we meet up at your place later on tonight instead?”

  He sighs. “Yo, c’mon, Porsha. How long we gonna sneak around? It’s been weeks. Don’t you think it’s time we step this up a notch?”

  “Em, you told me we could move at my pace. That you wouldn’t pressure me. You do remember saying that, no?”