Sexaholics

by Pynk

  Within minutes of her own ongoing reflections running through her head, from her wedding to her sex life, Valencia quietly snuck her hand under the covers, turned her back to her fiancé, and rubbed her stiff clitoris on the slide. In her mind, she thought about Miki’s premier clit-sucking skills, pretending Miki’s mouth was under the covers. Valencia tightened her ass and burst a smooth cum against her hand. She held it in with an internal grunt. And Gregory was none the wiser.

  A minute later, with dick in hand, Gregory took a quick glance at her back and darted his eyes back to the screen, back to her, and back to the screen, while he busted a quiet webcam nut of his own.

  She sighed.

  He sighed.

  He had his woman in his bed.

  She had a man who loved her.

  Valencia fell fast asleep.

  Satisfied.

  Gregory stayed up just a little while longer.

  13

  “Magic Stick”

  Brandi

  In the middle of the following week, Brandi’s eighth-grade class arrived for the start of the school day at the retro-looking Harcourt Middle School, a one-hundred-thousand-square-foot, newer magnet school with sixty prototype classrooms for students grades six through eight.

  The bell was to ring at 7:50 a.m. It was 7:40.

  Some backpack-wearing students walked far too slowly and some rushed about. Most were in groups, chatting. A few walked alone. A few were hugged up as couples. But none were with their parents. Except one.

  “Hello, Miss Williams,” said a female student with long ponytails, sounding cheery as she said good-bye to her father, who had walked her to class.

  Brandi, standing beneath the long, covered breezeway, said to her, “Hello, Asia. How’s it going?”

  “Good, thanks, ma’am.”

  “Did you study for your test today?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Brandi looked at Asia’s dad. “Hi, Mr. Turner.”

  “Hey, Ms. Williams. You can call me Harold.”

  Brandi looked at his daughter as she entered the classroom. “Thanks, but we don’t call parents by their first names.”

  “I see. Any rule against a parent calling a teacher by her first name?”

  “My name is Miss Williams.”

  “Miss, huh? I see.” He sounded let down.

  “That’s my name at school.” Brandi met his eyes. “But away from school, my name is Brandi. Maybe we can meet at seven tonight at the bar on Olympic called Francisco’s.”

  His face beamed as well as his voice. “I’ll be there.”

  “Tell me your number. I’ll remember it,” Brandi promised, leaning her ear toward his mouth and looking around.

  He whispered his digits slowly.

  She turned her back to him, thumbing her earlobe. “Drive safely and have a good day.”

  “I will. Oh, it’s good already.” He walked away, stepping like he was on cloud nine.

  Brandi placed her hand on the back of a young man who’d rushed down the hall and turned on a dime to enter the classroom. “Hello, Keyshaun. I see you barely made it.”

  “I know, Miss Williams.” His voice was deeper than middle-school deep but not quite grown.

  “How are you?”

  “Good.” He looked at Brandi’s legs, which extended from beneath her peach-colored sheath dress.

  She told him, “You look nice today.”

  “Thanks, Miss Williams. So do you.” He focused on her hip area.

  His height dwarfed her as she stepped in after him and closed the door, “Come on now, class. Let’s settle down.” She headed toward her desk when the door opened.

  “Hi, Miss Williams,” said the school principal.

  “Hello, Mrs. Ross.”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Mrs. Ross asked, holding the door open. She gave Brandi the come-hither motion with her index finger.

  “Sure.” Brandi said to her students, “Class, I’ll be right back.” She exited the room and shut the door behind her. Standing inches from the quartz tile wall in the quiet hallway, she crossed her arms and said, “Yes?”

  “Brandi, your mom called me this morning. Said she’s been looking for you. She asked me to have you call her,” her boss said. She looked conservative, with a slightly graying flip hairstyle and an all-beige skirt suit.

  Brandi spoke softly, “Oh, okay. I will. Thanks.” She offered a wide smile.

  “Aren’t you wondering what’s going on with her? I mean, the fact that she’s looking for you like this.”

  “No. I know she’s okay. I know she’s just checking on me.”

  “I see.” Mrs. Ross frowned. The vertical line between her eyes and the crow’s-feet beneath her eyes indicated her years of wisdom. “Brandi, look. I’ve known you since you and your mom moved next door to me on Verdun Avenue when you were the very same age as these kids here. Now, I’m going to tell you this. One of the parents mentioned that they thought you smelled of alcohol early in the morning yesterday. I dismissed it. Now, while I can’t say I’ve ever noticed that myself, I have to tell you that if another parent or teacher or child or anyone else says they noticed something, too, I’m going to have to look into it further. You know I love you, but if I find there’s merit to this, I will have to let you go. I cannot have the possibility of these types of violations while teachers are on school grounds. Not around our students.”

  “Oh, I totally understand, Mrs. Ross. And I would never put you in a position like that by doing something so stupid. Never.”

  Mrs. Ross’s maternal stare spoke of cautioned inquisitiveness. “Okay now. So, you’re telling me this is not the case? You’ve never come to this school after having something to drink?”

  Brandi shook her head. “No. I’m telling you the truth.” Her eyes begged Mrs. Ross to believe her.

  “All right. Have a nice day.” Mrs. Ross walked away and then looked back, speaking louder. “And make sure you call your mom. I don’t want her getting on me thinking I didn’t tell you.” She aimed her finger Brandi’s way. “I’m telling you, Brandi, don’t make me look bad.”

  “I won’t. I’ll call her.”

  “Good.” Mrs. Ross walked away fast, without saying good-bye.

  Brandi said “Thanks” to her from behind and reentered the classroom, “Okay class. Let’s discuss your book of the month, Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers. I’m quite sure everyone has read it and is ready to discuss it in detail.”

  The students ruffled around, some reaching into their backpacks and some flipping open their notebooks.

  Brandi took a deep inhale and a long exhale. She counted to ten and then told her students, “Excuse me one second. I need to go to the ladies’ room for a quick minute. I want all of you to please be prepared to debate the period of time, in the sixties during the Vietnam War, and how that same story would have been told today.”

  She exited the room with her purse in hand and reached inside for her cell phone, darting into the restroom two doors down. She pressed *67 before she dialed and didn’t bother programming the name into her list of contacts.

  “Hello. Yes, this is Miss Williams. Brandi Williams. Asia’s English teacher… Yes. Good… Oh really? Well, thanks… Listen, I’m sure you’re on your way to work, but I just wanted to tell you that I go to lunch at 11:30. There’s a place right down the street called the Best Western, right off La Tijera. Can you meet me there?… You can?… Good. Okay. Sure. Bye.”

  And before she could get her phone back into her purse, she snuck her other hand inside and took hold of a silver flask, uncapped it, and brought it to her mouth, tossing her head back and taking two long gulps of clear lightning. She clicked her tongue and wiped her mouth with her wrist, running her tongue over her bottom lip. She twisted the cap back on and replaced the flask in her bag. Brandi took a look at her reflected image in the scuffed-up mirror, then removed a stick of Big Red from the side zipper of her bag. She rolled it into her mouth, chomped
on it, and silently said, Eleven-thirty can’t get here soon enough as she headed back to her classroom. She closed the door tightly to instruct her education-hungry students, doing her good-side thing.

  The burgundy blackout drapes were pulled.

  At 11:42, Brandi’s flask rested upon the walnut nightstand next to the full-sized bed in the tiny, dingy, dark, and drab hotel room while she gave a major blowjob to a tall, dark-haired man with curly hair, who was built like a boxer. Brandi, hot and horny and talented, lay between his long legs, looking up at him with her big brown eyes as she devoured his penis. She crafted a vacuum pressure on his dick, wrapping her lips around his cock and sucking in air so that her cheeks inflated and deflated. She made fast up-and-down movements and fluttered her tongue in her mouth. She went down as far as she could and opened as far as she could, then she sucked in as much air as her lungs would allow, and blew. She let her mouth travel up and just as she reached the head, and then went back down again.

  “Oh damn. Hold up. Not yet. Shit.” He choked the white cotton sheet beneath him and curled his toes.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” she said at a low, soft pace as she released her mouth grip. “I’m going to save that sucker because I want you to have the time of your life on your lunch hour. I want you to live out your dreams, baby. What’s your ultimate afternoon delight?” She looked up at him while resting her head along his thigh. Her eyes looked drunk, either on gin or on sex.

  “My ultimate?”

  “Yes, what’s your fantasy?”

  He looked around the room and then at her. “This is it right here. I’ve been watching you for a while. No one would believe the phone call I got today. I had no idea when I woke up and took my daughter to school that I’d be alone with you a few hours later. Never.”

  “Oh please, you can dream bigger than that. What is it that you’ve always wanted to do sexually?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You can’t think of anything?”

  “No. I haven’t had that much of an unusual sex life, but I’ve been okay. I guess. Except have sex on an elevator or get head under the table at a restaurant, maybe.”

  “Kinky. Though we can’t do either of those right now.”

  “True. I guess one thing I’ve never done, that I think most men have definitely done my age, is have anal sex?”

  “Anal sex? That’s not as big as I want to give you. Unless you want me to give it to you. That might be big.”

  His forehead creased. “Oh, no. I mean me as the giver, thank you.”

  “Okay, that’s what I thought. Not big enough. Bigger.”

  “Two women at once, maybe?”

  “That’s common. Wow, as much as you think you have, you really haven’t done much. Come on. Think bigger.”

  “Well, I did see a porno flick where this girl choked this dude, and before he came he shot his cum in her mouth, and then she kissed him so he could swallow it himself.”

  “Oh, recycling it, huh? That’s called snowballing, my love.”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “You’d want to do that?”

  “I guess so.”

  She looked over at the digital clock on the nightstand and moved from her position. “We’d better get started. We don’t have long.”

  He braced himself by laying his head upon two propped-up pillows. His face showed that he was trying to ease his mind. “You don’t even remember my name, do you?”

  “I do. But it doesn’t matter.” Brandi stood on top of the hard mattress next to him, balancing herself. She parted her Southern lips and began rubbing her clitoris with her index and middle fingers, flicking the slippery skin and pressing her hips forward toward him.

  He took his already ripe dick in hand and stroked himself. She spread her lips open for him to examine every inch of what her pussy was drawn like, as she gave more brisk stroking to her clit. She started moaning and grinding in the air, then stood over him, straddling his torso while he slid his hand up and down his shaft.

  “That’s a pretty pussy there.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I wish I could fuck that.”

  “Maybe.”

  His voice grew deeper. “Oh yeah, that’s a pretty-ass pussy. My God.”

  She looked down at her own vagina. “Yep. That’s the prettiest part of me all right.”

  “It’s all pretty. And I’ll bet it’s tight.”

  “It is.”

  “I can tell. That slit is just begging to be ran through. God damn, I like that. Oh yeah. I’m about to tear that up.”

  “Are you ready to cum in my mouth?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “You need me to squeeze your throat first, right?”

  “I do.”

  “Come here,” she said. She knelt down on top of him and placed her hands around his wide neck, squeezing hard and then harder, pressing her thumbs into the front of his throat. He closed his eyes and she could feel him beating up his honey-nut dick from behind her even faster. She squeezed harder and harder. His face began to turn a dark red. Her hands began to hurt. She jerked his neck like she was wringing a washcloth until the grip she gave could not squeeze any tighter.

  His toes curled. “I’m cumming,” he gasped, fighting for air. She let go of her grip, rushed downtown to his tip after missing one half shot, and took the rest of the hot cum that spit from his tip to her tongue. She quickly moved up to approach his face and he opened his mouth wide as she exchanged the fluid to him while they kissed. He sucked her tongue and she carefully backed her head away. He gulped “Ahhhhh,” as though satisfied with the sensation, the texture, and the taste.

  She smacked her lips and ran the tip of her tongue over her teeth. “Is that how you wanted it to be?”

  His face became less flushed. He shook his head to aid his scratchy words. “Oh yeah.”

  “Ever tasted your own cum before?”

  His breaths were short. “A little from masturbating. That shit was sexy.” He rubbed his throat.

  She played tug and pull with the fine hairs on his chest. “You know you’re going to grow more hair on this chest of yours. That’s what happens on a sperm diet.”

  He brushed away the stray hairs from her forehead. “Funny.”

  She massaged the muscular definition of his pectorals and traced his hard nipple with her finger while he put his hand on her shoulder and slipped his arm around her.

  He held her and she stayed put in his arms. But then ten seconds later, she jumped to her feet, noticing that it was 12:22. She sipped a fast swallow from her flask and gathered her clothes, which rested along the back of the desk chair.

  “What about you?” he asked as he watched her, still lying on his back.

  “What about me, what?”

  “What about you? You didn’t get yours.”

  “Oh, I’m good.”

  “Maybe next time?”

  “No. Next times don’t exist. No second chances here.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “That’s just the way it is.”

  He sat up a bit. “Can I call you?”

  “No,” she said simply and exited the room, leaving him lying there naked with his dick, and his mouth, coated with cum.

  Brandi headed back in her Mustang to the middle school that employed her. The pep in her step was a tad bit peppier. She felt the rush for the short drive, but by the time she stepped out of her car and headed down the walkway to her classroom, the high had downshifted a notch.

  Her body had its way again.

  Her head said, Stop lusting and become sober.

  But being sex drunk truly had its freaky hold on Miss Williams.

  14

  “Fuck Me Pumps”

  Miki

  Have a good day, sweetie.” The next Monday, Miki sat in the short line of cars in the circular driveway at the all brick, two-story Westwood Elementary School. The sun had not yet shared its heat with the early-morning air.

  “Mom. I don’t
wanna go to Mrs. Johnson’s class anymore.” T.J. sat in the backseat wearing his gray sweatshirt and jeans. His eyes showed six-year-old misery.

  “Why?” Miki asked, as she put the car in park.

  He spoke with a sleepy whine. “Because I wanna go to Mr. White’s class. He has all the Star Wars things.”

  “Star Wars things?”

  “Yeah. I wanna be in his class.” He pouted like he was purposely trying to break her heart.

  Miki hid that she was tickled and spoke sympathetically while reaching in the backseat and smoothing the side of his thick hair. She unbelted his seat. “T.J., I’m sure all the kids get excited about Mr. White’s collection, but you have to go today. We’ll get you a Star Wars toy, and you can take it to school on share day. Now go on before you’re late.” She took his arm to pull him up for a kiss.

  T.J. scooted up and gave a silent, weak peck, and his lip stuck out even further. “Bye.” He took hold of his Sponge-Bob backpack.

  “Bye, baby. Mommy loves you.”

  “Love you, too,” he said, nearly inaudibly and with no eye contact whatsoever as the teacher’s aide opened his door and helped him out, giving Miki a wave, then he pushed the door closed.

  Miki watched her first-grader son. Just that quickly, he flung the straps of his backpack over his shoulders and spotted his best friend, Travon. The two darted off past the teacher’s aide and through the gate, and disappeared.

  As she pulled off, Miki wore her full-on smile, grabbed her hot pink travel mug and sipped her chocolate silk coffee, and simply took in the short drive to work. She thought back to her son’s pouty face and her heart warmed.

  And then she quickly thought about the length and thickness of Dwayne’s penis.

  The swanky place where Miki was employed was an urban inner sanctuary with panoramic views located in the center of glamor, in the foothills of Beverly Hills. It was the luxurious W Hotel in Westwood, decorated in brown, dark red, and blue. The designs and ambiance were vibrant and sophisticated. The mood was contemporary and mod.