Making the Hook-Up

by Cole Riley

  I could feel semen coming as Keanu went head to head with the devil dressed to the teeth in a white suit. I wiped my hand on my jeans as I fingered her slow, careful to remember that I was in a public place and not the El Camino Motel with some stripper. I liked the feeling of her lips constricting around my fingers like her pussy had a mind of its own. I watched her with peripheral vision, saw her shut her eyes, each muscle in her Nubian face tensing, that hand of hers bracing on the armrest as I fucked her with these fingers. She was about ready to pop and I didn’t stop till she came. Felt like she was having twenty orgasms down there. Good pussy.

  I eased to a crawl, finishing her off. I slid my fingers out of her spent cunt, from beneath her leather skirt, gliding her sweet scent under my nose. My fingers coasted along my lips, slipping into my mouth for a taste. I stared down at her as she adjusted herself beneath the leather. The movie ended. Good kicked evil’s ass again. The credits rolled, the lights came up and people started to file out of the sardine-sized theater.

  Without so much as a glance back at me, she stood and followed her man out the row, the two of them descending hand in hand down carpeted steps.

  “That was good,” I heard him say.

  Sho’ was, I said to myself. What we did was better than any Hollywood blockbuster.

  PHARAOH’S PHALLIC

  Deepbronze

  You just never know. I used to hear her talk about this dude all the time. King Tut. I knew that couldn’t be his real name. She never actually said it, but I think she enjoyed him more than me. Deidre always talked about how this dude made her cum and did things to her that she had only imagined were possible. No, she never actually told me about him, but I would hear her on the phone whispering and giggling with her girlfriends about his ass. At first I used to trip, but then I thought about it. She wasn’t fuckin’ him, she was fuckin’ me. And hell, every now and then I still thought about Pearl. Pearl was the woman who turned my ass out. Some of the older cats said she had been a prostitute in N’awlins before she came to San Diego. But then again, military guys always got a story about some woman. The truth is, everybody has that one good fuck that they never forget so I figured he was hers. But I never knew what was really up until one day I came home early from work and that’s when I really found out about King Tut.

  It had been a few weeks since Deidre and I had made love. I was worried about my job. There had been a lot of layoffs at the firm and rumors that more were coming by early February. It was December and the thought of not having a job in another eight weeks worried me. And then one day I just couldn’t. I mean I tried, but nothing was happening. A couple of nights I got home from work before Deidre and decided to watch some videos to get in the mood: Chocolate Cream, Joy Cums and Fantapussy. There I was in the den watching beautiful black women with supermodel good looks, perfectly round tits and phat asses, and I couldn’t get it up. And Chocolate Cream was my favorite too! It had one girl in there who had to be the baddest ass freak I had ever seen in a video. Her name was Chocolate and she was the bomb! She was givin’ this dude head and hell, I felt it! But my dick wouldn’t stay hard. So then I tried watching something else—Fantapussy, a ménage à trois. Hell, every man’s dream—two women suckin’ and fuckin’ him to near unconsciousness. But no matter what I watched I just couldn’t get real hard. At first I thought there was something wrong with my dick, but I went to the doctor and he told me it was just stress. So I figured that until I stopped stressin’ on my job Deidre would just have to take care of herself. And you know, that’s one thing I liked about my lady, she didn’t mind touching herself. Hell, I think she would have eaten her own pussy if she could have reached it. Deidre was comfortable with her own sexuality and that turned me on. So I figured that this little lockdown time would be all right. I had no idea just what Deidre would do in a little sex drought…no idea.

  So as I was saying… I came home early one day. I didn’t even know Deidre was home. I came in through the garage and went straight to the den. After a half hour or so I went upstairs to take a shower. As I got closer to the bedroom I could hear Deidre moaning. Hell, she sounded like I was fuckin’ her brains out only I was standing in the hall. I didn’t know what to do. All kinds of shit ran through my head…maybe I should pretend to be Mr. Big and get my cane…or a pissed-off pimp and get my knife…or just a jealous lover and get my 45….

  Only my cane, my knife and my gun were all in the room, under the night table that Deidre was obviously kicking with her foot each time she screamed “Oh, damn!”

  I stood there paralyzed and hurt. I knew that I hadn’t waxed that ass in a few weeks, but Deidre didn’t have to go out and fuck another man and damn sho’ not in the house—in my bed. Tears filled my eyes. Yeah, real men do cry. I loved Deidre and no matter what, I could never see myself fuckin’ around on her.

  Deidre and I had just celebrated five years together. We weren’t married and we didn’t have any children, but we had been together for nearly four years when she moved into my house a year earlier. No, she wasn’t my wife in the legal way, but in my heart she was every bit my wife and I had the papers to prove it! Her name was on the house and insurance policies; she had stocks and every other financial asset that I could provide. I took care of her, brought my check home to her and treated her with more respect than most men do their real wives. But most importantly, I gave her my honor—I was completely faithful to her. I didn’t give out my number and I didn’t take numbers. So what was happening in that room between my lady and this mutha was fucked up. I was about to catch a case.

  I stood there for a few minutes that felt like hours, and I still didn’t know what to do. I was mesmerized and enraged all at the same time by my lover’s orgasmic cries. The panting in her voice and the shrill sound she made each time he hit her spot turned me on. I was confused. I stood in the hall sexually aroused from hearing another man please my woman. Maybe it was all those damn porn movies. Maybe somewhere deep in my mind I wanted to have an orgy with my lady and some other dude. Yet I was angry that she would play me like a fool. Mad that the only time in my life I had ever been faithful I would end up with my woman fuckin’ around on me. I was hurt because I had given this woman everything and she had turned out to be just like the rest. I was blind with rage. But the truth is, I wasn’t about to catch a case at all—I was hard. I didn’t know what was happening to me exactly or why, but I stood in that hallway with my dick about to bust a hole through my pants. I pulled it out. It was wet. I stroked it. I couldn’t bring myself to move, but I wanted to see. I wanted to watch. Deidre’s screams grew louder. The louder she screamed the more she talked: “King… oh, fuck me…ooh wee damn…my pu..pu..pussy…oh, oh, oh, I’m coming…oh, damn…Tu...Tu…Tut…”

  I opened the door. I had never seen the shit I saw that day. Deidre was lying on her back, her right foot propped up on the night table, her left foot on the bed, knee raised. She was rubbin’ her nipples with her left hand and holding on to her love-maker with her right. She squeezed tightly. The big, dark and obviously strong dick was between her legs.

  Deidre didn’t see me standing in the doorway. She was still being pleased while I stood, dick in hand, watching. Her ass was slightly raised off the bed and she was being fucked good. What looked to be an eight-inch rock-hard dick was pumping in and out of Deidre’s wet pussy. She moaned. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Slightly crooked, it moved counterclockwise inside her pussy. I didn’t know how to do that shit without moving my entire lower body. But I knew I would have to learn ’cause Deidre was really getting off on that. And I guess that’s what really turned me on—Deidre getting off. Yeah, I wished I was making her holler my name, but that day, I was only a voyeur and my lady was the star of the show.

  Still near the door, I sat down. My pants dropped to the floor. I sat in the chair spreading my legs, allowing my own well-hung dick to grow more with excitement. I wrapped my large hands around my own organ, squeezing it while finding pleasure in watching Deidr
e’s thighs shake uncontrollably as her clit was being stimulated. As the strong dick pushed harder and deeper into her pussy, her clit was being tickled and teased in a way that only a professional pussy pleaser could master. Her hips jerked from the sensation. I came. It was a small squirt, the first in weeks; and it came from seeing my woman have sexual convulsions from the deliberate strokes of this, her old lover.

  Deidre was in another place. She still hadn’t opened her eyes to see me getting off on this erotic fantasy. Deidre was beautiful. She licked her lips and I imagined them wrapped around my dick. Her face, contorted, strained from the intense pleasure of multiple orgasms. Overcome with passion from within the deep well of her pussy, Deidre continued to moan. She was almost at her peak.

  The massive dick seemed to pump harder and push deeper as Deidre’s legs spread wider and she consumed all of the pleasure inside of her. Her back arched. Making slow circular motions, the big dick continued to enter my woman’s pussy. With every moan the rhythm increased—faster and faster until finally Deidre’s waist and hips gyrated with the same rhythmic melody. Her breathing grew heavier and I was about to cum. My lady released a huge scream. And again, I came. For weeks I had been stressed out and in one erotic afternoon, I was a man again. With her lover lying next to her, still rock hard, Deidre rubbed the moist flesh between her legs that had just flooded like a dam breaking under intense pressure.

  Slowly, I walked over to the bed. Deidre, still unaware of my presence, lay there nearly exhausted from the awesome experience she had just had. Crawling into bed, I caressed her inner thigh with my tongue. Startled, Deidre sat up and stared into my eyes. We held each other’s gaze while her partner lay lifelessly next to her. As I worked my way from her thighs into her wet pussy, Deidre lay back on the bed. I forced my tongue deeper and deeper into her heaven, my paradise.

  I moved my tongue in and out of her liquid pussy savoring every ounce of her love. I loved the way Deidre tasted. I wanted to make her scream just like she had minutes earlier.

  Deidre pulled me to her. She kissed me deeply. Darting her tongue in and out of my mouth she held me firmly with her arms and I felt her love—something her exhausted partner could never experience. Rising up onto my knees, I pulled her toward me. Lifting her hips around my waist I entered her. Deeper, harder, I thrust my strong, hard dick into her pussy and she took all of me. Deidre swallowed me up inside of her and we made love.

  Moving together we became one and I loved every part of her. I kissed her lips, cheeks, ears and neck.

  “I love you, Derek.”

  Deidre caressed my head and kissed my neck.

  “Be my wife.”

  I couldn’t believe I had just said that. It didn’t come with debate, but rather it was the thing in my heart at that moment. Deidre looked deep into my eyes. She pulled me closer to her, held on to me tightly and we came together.

  I made love to my friend, lover and future wife. She didn’t scream and gyrate like she had done that afternoon, but I knew that I had just given Deidre something that King Tut never could. I knew that I was the better man. I moved to the bathroom for a shower.

  As I turned on the water Deidre brought her lover into the bathroom. She turned on the faucet; I stepped into the shower. Deidre gently cleansed the strong dick that had just given her so much pleasure. Deidre shook the water off her still-erect partner and moved toward the special place she made just for him.

  Opening the shower door, I took my future wife’s hand. I knew that I had her love and her honor; and I would have that even when King Tut didn’t have batteries.

  LONNIE’S LICKS

  Tenille Brown

  It was what they called addictive personality. Lonnie diagnosed me with it himself, him being a psych major and all. For instance, I always ordered the same takeout and I was finicky about the type of movie I wanted to watch, and I had a favorite candy bar and a favorite sandwich and I had a preferred side of the bed.

  I might have passed his judgment off as simply the perception of a shallow onlooker, except Lonnie was a friend, sort of. Well, maybe not as much of a friend as this tall, beautiful man who lived across the street and occasionally came over to fuck me.

  “Addictive,” Lonnie said. “You start something and you stick to it. You don’t care to try something new.”

  If this were true, I suppose one could say I had become addicted to his dick. And it was only his dick. His kisses were nice and he knew what to do with his hands, but he knew as well as I did that I put up with those other things just to get to the prize, that glorious, mahogany dick of his.

  I blamed it all on him, told him he should have never shown it to me. If he had wanted us to remain friends, if he had wanted me to show interest in any other part of him, he should have never disrobed with his curtain wide open, knowing I was directly across the street and that I did my writing in front of my window, and I tended to look directly in front of me when I was deep in thought.

  So, I confronted him about it, told him how he and his penis had distracted me so much I couldn’t write another word for the rest of the day and how, when I was supposed to be thinking about irony and symbolism, I was thinking about his package and how it might feel inside of me.

  Being the good and gracious neighbor that he was, Lonnie had apologized.

  I, of course, had accepted, but I was sure to let him know that there was the unsettled matter of him flashing me and costing me a full day’s work.

  So, Lonnie agreed to a bargain.

  The agreement was that we would fuck once, just get all that sexual tension out of the way and get on with our lives so that we could carry on like civilized people and be sensible neighbors, waving from across the street and borrowing cups of sugar and such.

  And silly me, I figured he would be a mediocre fuck at best—most beautiful people were. I had run across enough of them in my twenty-three years and I had learned to expect to be disappointed.

  But I wasn’t disappointed with Lonnie. I wasn’t disappointed at all.

  In fact, I was in love, head over heels in love with his dick. It was gorgeous, solid and smooth. It was the perfect length and girth. He knew how to move. He knew when to give and when to take and he always came last, always.

  Lonnie’s dick made me forget he had hands or lips or even a face. He was the only man who could make me come using his dick alone, no fingers, no tongue, no dildo.

  Of course, that type of pleasure always came at a price.

  His dick was terribly distracting.

  It made me wish he had fucked me badly. It made me wish he had been awful so that our relationship would become awkward and one of us would have to move. Then I wouldn’t think about it so much. It wouldn’t take up so much of my time and energy.

  But instead, I searched for reasons to fuck him. Reasons like…I hadn’t burned enough calories that day and it was too late to go to the gym…or I had this scratch in this really weird place, and if he could let me borrow his dick for just a minute I was sure I could take care of it.

  Instead, I was calling him over to look at a sink that wasn’t broken, or to taste my spaghetti with the special kielbasa sauce, or to read over a sample chapter, a sexy chapter, one that would have him all hot and bothered.

  But, in true Lonnie fashion, he was soon on to me.

  He mentioned it one morning after he had licked his way down my tummy, and I had viciously flipped him over and mounted him.

  Instead of giving in, he said, “You know what you’re doing, don’t you, Stacey?”

  “What do you mean, Lonnie?” I asked.

  He said, “You’re forming a habit.”

  I shrugged and said nonchalantly, “Well, everybody has ’em.”

  Lonnie nodded. “True. Then you should know what it is I’m doing, right?”

  I leaned in, winked, played with the sleeve of his shirt because I knew what it was he wasn’t doing. Then I said, “No, tell me, what?”

  “I’m enabling you.”
/>   I crossed my arms. “Damn, Lonnie, it’s your dick for fuck sake. It’s not like it’s crack or anything.”

  And Lonnie propped himself up on his elbows, cocked his head and looked straight at me. “Isn’t it?”

  And I couldn’t argue, so I just gave in. I said, “Well, fine, Dr. Lonnie. What do you think we should do about it?”

  “I think I should stop you. I think I should just take my dick away, cold turkey.”

  That hurt. It hurt more than I thought it would.

  I guess some would call it dramatic. But his dick really was that magnificent.

  Luckily for me, along with an addictive personality, I had a penchant for playing with fire.

  So, I said, “Okay, so take it away then.”

  And suddenly there was a shiver in my stomach and a lump in my throat that made it hard to breathe when I thought Lonnie might call my bluff. I looked at him and waited.

  He seemed to think it over for a moment.

  “Not so fast,” he said. “We’re going over something right now in my psych class. It’s called aversion therapy.”

  I leaned in. “Tell me more.”

  “Well, the trick is, when you have those addictive thoughts, say, thoughts about beer for an alcoholic, you need to redirect your feelings.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Can you imagine if every time you got the craving for some of my goods, you got this little shock, sort of like you stuck your finger in a socket or something?”

  I scoffed. “I don’t really want to imagine that, Lonnie.”