He kissed my lips before he moved in and out of me. I heard his moan of satisfaction as his rhythm set in. The headboard began to beat to his drum.
I pushed Jared and his indiscretions out of my mind and I gave in to ecstasy that only Larenz could give me and let it take me away.
“God, I missed you,” I heard myself say. Where did that come from? Shit, I knew where. All those years of him being with Troi, I wanted him. I hated him for cheating on me, but loved him because he was my first love.
All the hell this man put me through. Why would I allow myself to open up this door when it was nailed shut?
Taking me from my thoughts, he flipped me onto my stomach and growled, low like a tiger. That shit turned me on. He lifted my stomach so I could get into that infamous doggy style position that he loved so much. He grabbed hold of each butt cheek as he thrust deep inside of me. The skin from his thighs slapped roughly against my ass. It hurt so good that I fell onto my stomach.
“No baby, you got to keep that pretty ass up,” he said as he lifted my stomach back up.
I closed my eyes as his hands made a trail up my spine into my short-cropped hair. He tugged gently at my hair, sweat beads forming on his face. He pounded from behind with just the right amount of force to make the deepest feeling in my gut cause me moan louder and louder.
As he went deeper, my moan turned into a sound that no other man could produce. I yelled, “Larenz… damn baby… get it!”
“Am I getting it baby?”
“Hell yeah! Get it!”
He pounded harder. Sweat formed between my breasts and the wetness between my thighs trickled onto the bed creating a wet spot underneath us.
He flipped me back on my back so he could stare into my eyes.
“Did you miss this?” I asked as I gasped for air.
“I do missed this, and this, and this…” he said as he thrust over and over, deeper into the softest and most tender spot that drove me crazy. That hot spot was one only he could reach with his girth and length. I opened my eyes and I looked at his gorgeous face.
I reached for a pillow to place behind my head. We kissed, passionately as we climaxed. I climbed this mountain to ecstasy and didn’t want to come down. I felt an orgasm coming, multiple.
His rhythm slowed down and became easy as he floated on top of me. As soon as he caught his breath, he sped back up. Faster and faster, deeper and deeper, I lost control. “Larenz! Don’t stop baby! Don’t stop!”
“You don’t want me to what?”
“I don’t want you to stop!” I demanded grabbing hold of his neck as his body created a friction so fast until we created a fire.
I heard the front door open and close. I stopped. I looked up at Larenz with wide eyes as if I were a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. I tried to push Larenz off me, but he didn’t hear what I heard, or maybe he did. I wasn’t sure. All I know was that Jared entered the apartment. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he saw my naked body up under Larenz.
“Larenz, get off me,” I tried to whisper.
“What?” he asked as he thrust deep into me. “Baby, I’m about to come.”
I closed my eyes. I was on the brink of an orgasm myself. With that thrust, I could feel myself coming down my legs as my body began to quiver.
We both reached our peak and exploded. I couldn’t move. The apartment was silent aside from our quickened breaths. Maybe I was hearing things. Maybe the front door never opened.
I peaked over Larenz’s shoulder as his tired body lay on top of mine. Jared stood there as if he didn’t know what to say. He judged me with his eyes. His mouth widely agape, but then he closed it quickly.
“Get up,” I said pushing Larenz off me.
Larenz jumped up. I grabbed the sheet to wrap around my quivering body. I could still feel Larenz’s thickness deep inside me. I bit on my lower lip to stop myself from feeling that aftershock of good sex. I needed to use the bathroom, but I knew that tingling sensation at the tip of my clit would have me trembling all over again.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Jared said folding his arms across his chest. The keys jingled in his hand as his freckles disappeared under his reddened face.
Larenz put his pants back on calmly unaffected with Jared’s presence.
I gripped the sheets tighter with shaking hands and managed to drape it around my sweaty body. “Jared…” I replied. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I have to call now before I come over? I do have a key.”
Larenz sat on the bed as if to say he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” I asked trying to get out the bed to put my clothes back on. My mind was unable to keep focus and my body was weak. I was still out of breath.
Where were my goddamned clothes? The trail we made from the living room to the bedroom was still there.
Jared turned his back on me and headed for the door. I ran after him with the sheet trailing behind me. I tried to pick up my clothes as I went. “Wait Jared.”
“Stop following me,” he said. “Turn around and continue to get your brains fucked out. It’s over!”
“What about the bitch downstairs?”
He stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around and asked, “What are you talking about?”
“The bitch Angel that lives downstairs!”
He shook his head at me as if he was disappointed in my words. He ran his hand over the top of his low-cut red-brown hair. “You act like you know when you have no idea.”
“Well, give me an idea Jared . Explain it.”
“I don’t need to explain shit! You need to explain why Larenz is here fucking you in the bed I paid for.”
Guilt washed over me. I was guilty. He was guilty too, but I couldn’t prove it. “He doesn’t mean anything to me. I promise,” I pleaded.
“I’m really supposed to believe that? He would’ve still been hitting your spot if I hadn’t come in. I heard you screaming, begging him not to stop. So don’t let me stop you.”
He threw his key on the floor, walked out, and slammed the door. I almost felt like running outside to see if he ran to that broad’s apartment downstairs. I didn’t.
I turned around to see Larenz staring at me with a confused look. “So, I don’t mean anything to you?” he asked.
I put my head down. I couldn’t win for losing. What was I thinking? I loved Larenz. I did. I also loved Jared. I loved them in two different ways. I loved Larenz because he was the father of my child and my first love. I loved Jared because he loved me at a time when I needed him the most.
“You mean the world to me Larenz, and that’s the problem. That’s always been the problem.”
He walked up to me and put his arms around me. “ Heather …. I still love you. Do you know that?”
I frowned. How could he love Maiah, Troi, and me? “No.”
“Well, I do. Do you still love me Heather?”
“Yes, even after all the shit you put me through.”
“I couldn’t be the man you wanted me to be back then baby.”
I held him tightly against my body. I yearned to hear him say that. “I’ll be okay.”
“You don’t need him. He’ll find out that you’re a good woman when you’re gone. Believe me. I did.”
I cried again, for the last time that night. I wasn’t crying because I lost Jared. I was crying because the love I had for Larenz finally came out of the hard shell I built; it cracked wide open. I couldn’t get too excited just yet. He loved Maiah too and worst of all, Troi.
I’m Niyah Moore, a twenty-six year old single mother of two. I was born and currently reside in Sacramento, California. I've been writing since I was twelve years old and completed my first novel at age fifteen. Straight out of high school I attended CSU Sacramento and majored in Mass Media Communications/Video Production. After having a son and getting married, I changed my career to Hair Stylist. However, I never was satisfied as a hair sty
list and never gave up on my writing dream, so I continue to write and churn out short stories like Caught With My Ex.
If you would like to contact me, visit me on myspace at http://www.myspace.com/shayshayronda
The Mile High Club
Granson Loruth
I guess every dog really does have his day. I’m mean, I’m no dog literally, actually up until my last trip to L.A., I was nothing more than your typical reality T.V. show and porn junkie. If you had asked me then, what my ideal date was, I’d probably tell you this; hit a club, if I see something I like, kill her with drinks, and then cross my fingers and hope to God she’s gullible enough to come back to my house and help me blow my wad.
Shallow I know, and it’s not like I’m ugly or anything, it’s just my life revolves entirely around my profession; so much so, even lust for me is secondary.
What I basically do is take theoretic applications and apply them to real life situations, meaning, I can pretty much construct anything from a jet engine to the next World Trade Center. If you can hold meetings in it, fly in it, live in it, ride in it or on it, then someone in my field of work has probably had their hand in creating it.
I received my Bachelor’s Degree from Southern Polytechnic State University in Marietta, GA., followed by a Master’s Degree at the University of Southern California, subsequently leading me to a Doctorate at the Rochester Institute of Technology in Rochester NY, and on to my current job at the BMW manufacturing plant in Greer South Carolina.
A career milestone, of course, who wouldn’t want to be me, Bartholomew Bryant Jr., a forty six year old head mechanical engineer researcher and analyst for one of the world’s premier luxury car companies in America, that can’t seem to get a descent piece of pussy to save his life.
I’m not going to lie, I’m arrogant and very sure of myself but hell look at my track record, everything about me from head to toe reeks of success. For some odd reason when it comes to scoring with the women though, the only thing I’ve managed to land a PHD in, is fuck up’s.
My sex life is as boring as a kid with ADD being made to sit and watch the Phantom of the Opera in high day during the middle their summer vacation.
I don’t have any problems performing or with my endowment, (so I’ve been told!) it’s just after I get mine, the interest of my lady companion drains out with the rest of my temporary desires and back into the torn open XXL Magnum packaging, it was once so eagerly screaming to be ripped from.
I’m 6’2 about one hundred and ninety pounds with jet black wavy hair that perfectly connects with my sideburns, mustache, and goatee. I have copper colored skin with almost the exact same color eyes but maybe a shade or two darker with broad shoulders and a lanky, athletic build that often gets me pegged for being some sort of sports star.
From the outside looking in, I’m what a fellow would call the ultimate playboy, and in some aspects he might be right. I am rich and in my prime, with truck loads of ass to choose from; however, there’s only one problem; not a single girl that I’ve met in my thirty years of doing whatever the fuck it is I call myself doing, has tamed that orgasmic beast inside of me long enough, for me to pay her any more attention than I would a V16 super turbocharged big block.
Call me a selfish, male chauvinistic whore, whatever you want but hey, a man has needs too and when they aren’t being met, a hollowness overtakes him, forcing him to identify with the next incomparable thing there is, which for me is my craft.
I truly believed now that the devotedness to my career was due to my insatiable appetite for sexual consumption. Simply the sheer craving to be completely and utterly engulfed in blissful, feet curling eroticism was for me, the single most important unaccomplished triumph in my own otherwise comprehensively flawless and prominent little world.
In a million years, never did I expect Heaven’s Gates to disengage and bestow upon me the antidote to my nymphomaniac-less ailments, not in this lifetime anyway.
I had all but given up hope on feeling the godly ecstasy I envied others for regularly practicing, but that was before I met “her”, and I call her, “her” because even as we speak, I have no clue as to who she is or where the hell she even came from.
It was a usual routine trip for me out to LA for the annual Greater Los Angeles Auto Show and as always, I was sitting in the airport listening to John Coltrane’s Giant Steps blaring from my laptop headset, waiting for my flight.
Something about the way Coltrane and that alto sax composed musical matrimony tantalizes my soul and just carries me into outer space. On that day however, I must’ve landed on Pluto or something because I never even bothered to notice all of the passengers boarding while I sat there captivated, under the spell of Trane’s harmonious trance.
I had to have been sitting there for a while because after being snapped out of my daze by a gentle tug, I awoke to an empty room, aside from some disgruntled looking employees whom I presume by the cringes on their faces, had tried various ways of getting my attention to no avail.
Slightly embarrassed, I gave the employees an apologetic wave assuring them it wasn’t intentional as I hurriedly rushed to my feet, not realizing the person who I was awakened by still stood in front of me.
SMACK! As my laptop went hurdling into the air and I scampered furiously to rescue it from destruction, I happened to glance over my blindside shoulder at what appeared to be a silhouette of a woman, tumbling in the opposite direction.
Ordinarily, my first instincts would have been to save my eighteen hundred dollar computer rather than waste my time playing good Samaritan but, as I shifted my head toward the collapsing figure, what I saw at that very moment, wouldn’t have made me turn back for that computer if it was my mother.
CRASH!
Not only did my laptop smash onto the floor making an expensively violent sounding thud, the lady whom I tried to play hero for went nose-diving as well, while I sat there in a euphoric state, staring at what I perceived to be The Messiah’s greatest artistic creation, since Nefertiti.
“Thanks for the rescue! A little slower next time though, huh? Maybe I can slip some discs in my back to complement busting my ass!”
I’m not sure if the ticket agents began to giggle at the woman’s sarcastic remark, or at the fact that I was wearing the face of a two year old when he shits on himself. Whichever one, the only thing my vocal chords could do at that precise instance was challenge each other on who could remain the stiffest.
As the woman gathered herself back to her feet, she wore a smug frown that was to me, still radiant enough to make Lena Horne jealous. She had the most beautiful set of dimples I’d ever laid my retinas on, the kind that contoured with the same ease as a Caribbean ocean tide, splashing against boulders beneath the glow of the moon’s palm.
Her hair, as dark as soot, ran exhaustively down her spine until it satisfactorily hit the base of her buttocks, where it exquisitely dangled like a silk, seventeenth century handcrafted oriental curtain.
Her body was the type of physique that supermodels committed homicides about; she was deceptively thin, yet perfectly proportioned, magnifying the way every private part hugged her petite, succulent structure.
The face on this woman was that of a goddess, I swear right then and there, if my knees hadn’t turned into a bunch of fuckin' Jell-O, I would have worshipped her, I felt like the Yoruba tribe of Nigeria, and she was Oshun.
Brushing away the debris from her enticing uniform, I gawked, while the woman huffed repulsively, then stormed pass me murmuring obscenities.
“Somebody’s mother needs to teach them some damn manners! Where’d your gentleman’s license come from? Shithead!”
“I’m very---“
“Aw, save it moron!”
There was no sting on her words; I embraced each one as a parent would do their long lost child. Backpedaling towards the loading terminal, I was more observant than a groupie; as my woman in shining armor, moved along with the gracefulness of a panther until she vanishe
d, just as mysteriously as she had come.
BOOM!
Guess instead of slobbering, I should’ve been more aware of those chairs in the rear of me!
When I reached the plane, I remembered to personally thank the captain for holding up his flight and allowing me to board. Comfortably nestling into my first class seat, I couldn’t help but dwell on how crazy the last twenty minutes of my evening had been.
Given the opportunity to converse with possibly the woman of my sinfully carnal dreams, I choked, and now I had an entire six-hour trip to Los Angeles to remind myself on how much of a lame I was.
As I strapped in my seatbelt and prepared for take off, I tried to ignore what seemed like the trillionth time I’ve heard the flight attendant giving those ghastly safety instructions, nevertheless, she continued in anticipation to our ascend into the air, which I must admit, was a very smooth one.
Reclining myself into rest mode, I pressed the button for passenger assistance because I needed a drink, I figured it wasn’t sensible for me to wait until they made their rounds, two or three shots of Patron and the next words they’d hear from me would be “Goodbye,” as I ‘m exiting the plane at LAX.
The lady who showed up to take my order was a cutie. I was kind of bummed when she stated she wouldn’t be my server, I had caught the crew in the middle of preparation and she was the closest respondent, but she gladly opted without hesitation to turn in my request for tequila.
Just my luck I thought. I failed horribly with my fantasy girl, now this. The way shit’s been going with me so far, I wouldn’t be surprised if my stewardess was Oprah, The Color Purple days’ Oprah.
At this point I figured, the least I could do to partially redeem myself from my earlier shameful blunder was throw a few suggestive flirtations at this lady, no harm no foul as I always say. Besides, I was still nursing bruised pride, so I was determined to make this my validation. She might not have been the previous diva, but it was some thing about her tits that made my soldier stand at attention, and when he speaks, I listen.
Mocha Chocolate: Taste A Piece of Ecstasy Page 8