Mocha Chocolate: Taste A Piece of Ecstasy

by Greene-Dowdell, Shani

  “And who might you be gorgeous?”

  I tried sounding as debonair as possible under the circumstances, maybe a tad too suave, so when the lady didn’t respond, I assumed maybe I wasn’t loud enough.

  “Um, excuse me miss, but what kind of man let’s a woman of your stature work, scarring up those ever so delicate hands? He’s got to be----“

  “Look negro!”

  As hard of an agitated whisper as she could manage, the lady viscously spat her unattractive retorts in my ear while all I could do was sit there and get rejected… again.

  “For your info Mr. Clumsy.”

  That stung.

  “I don’t hunch I munch, so unless you can transform yourself into something other than a gigantic humiliation to your gender, I suggest you take one of these complimentary blankets, with this complimentary sleeping mask, accompanied by this complimentary bottle of hand sanitizer, and go for what you know!”

  I had to be in the fuckin’ Twilight Zone! How many refusals could a man obtain in a twenty-four hour period? Who was not going to find out was me.

  The lady readily welcomed a reply from me, but I had no more will left to be crushed.

  With the most decent smirk I could muster, I took my complimentary blanket, my complimentary mask, my complimentary bottle of hand sanitizer, and took my complimentary black ass to sleep.

  BAM!

  “Your Patrone! Sir!”

  It’s not that the sound startled me, or even the fact that this was very well, by far the lowest my ego has ever sunken to my recollection. None of that was the case at the moment.

  Obviously, the glass had been slammed on my meal tray so forcedly; some of it had spilled in my lap, and was now soaking its way through my suit, to my crouch.

  I lost it.

  Enough was enough. I had paid more than my fair share of agony for the troubles I did and did not cause. Totaling up my net damages; I had a busted laptop, a sore ankle from all of my hazardous spills, two female revokes; one from a Nubian queen, and one by a lesbian, who now had the audacity to stand there and pour liquor on me?

  Insanity had momentarily penetrated my skull and before I knew it, I had sprung up, not even bothering to remove the mask, and was giving Ms. Super Lick, a nice size piece of my mind.

  “Look Bitch! This is Armani, so I suggest you take your Clit Van Dyke ass back to where the fuck you came from, and find me something to clean this up with, or I’ll have you slaving in this shithole for the rest of your natural existence trying to reimburse me!

  Silence. It was so quiet you could hear a rat piss on cotton.

  Realizing what I had just done, I removed my mask only to observe a hundred plus spectators gazing at me in disbelief.

  To make matters worst, not only did I shame myself on an air carrier full of strangers, but when Super Lick sprang out from the coach area to see what the commotion was about, it was then I discovered that, it wasn’t her who had wasted my drink after all!

  Perched against a row of outraged travelers, there she was, My Dream Woman in the flesh, peeking out at me from underneath her jacket like Bin Laden had just been located.

  I literally wanted to rush the emergency doors, hoping that I was fortunate enough to get engulfed amidst the blades on my way down, except that never occurred. I just mournfully plopped back into my original spot without so much a rebuttal, longing for the four and a half hours remaining to speed warp its way to my rescue.

  I compelled myself from then on to just probe out of my window until we arrived in LA.

  I had become Enemy Of The State, the aerial version. Oh well, if I’m going to play the villain, why not be intoxicated while I’m at it I rationalized.

  Examining my tray, I came to the grave realization that my glass had been confiscated, leaving only the napkin it rested on winking up at me. At this point I wouldn’t have dared ask anyone for anything so I chose the last logical option I had, crying.

  Yet, just as I went to smack my noggin profusely on my serving tray, something abruptly stopped me. Repositioning myself to get a better interpretation, I noticed the napkin on my tray had writing on it.

  Great, I’m already getting fuckin hate mail!

  Something told me to toss it, but because of my infatuation for self-inflicted torture, I read it anyway; it said:

  Dear Mr. Sir,

  If you’re wondering where your glass of Patrone disappeared to, I took it to keep you from further harming yourself as well as the rest of our travelers.

  I have to admit though; your tantrum was in an eerie sort of way, a turn on being that I didn’t even know you could speak prior to that interesting spectacle you provided for everyone. In hindsight of this, I did the honor of letting the staff know to only provide you with tea for the remainder of your trip. Enjoy!

  Sincerely Yours,

  The Misses You Missed

  P.S. The back cubicle should have what’s needed to get that stain out of your “Armani”.

  Fair enough. I was going to go get my tea, get that spot cleaned up, and be done with it. I had too much dignity to keep displaying this type of conduct so, rising and shaking the numbness from my legs, I made my way towards the back cubicle.

  The aisles were so narrow I could feel the hostile vibes coming from the patrons, but I nonchalantly kept it moving until I reached a small portable console in the back of the plane.

  Casually approaching the portal door, I assumed I was in the right area being that this was the furthest I could go before actually needing a parachute.

  With that, I twisted the knob and pranced into the completely darkened closet cramped space, fiddling around impulsively for the light switch until I found it.

  Click.

  In a no more than seven by ten sweatbox, every vile shenanigan the Gods had played on me for their personal amusement that day was assuredly evaporating. No longer did any of that matter, as I now became a spectator while My Dream Woman sat on top of a sink, facing me in plain view tickling her clitoris with the tip of her French Manicured nail, panting like a brand new lamas class member.

  This was not the woman I recall from back at the hangar. Every trace of guiltlessness had been replaced by seductively ravenous moaning as she laid spread eagle, manipulating her pink pearl until it began pulsating with the fervency of a heartbeat.

  I didn’t know whether to jack off or go blind.

  Her pants were wrapped around her calf muscles when she grabbed them in the center, jerking them up so that she could now view me from in-between her legs, as she motioned for me to come closer.

  Stepping nearer, I could smell the lust from the intimate breaths being exchanged from me to her like we were giving each other mouth-to-mouth resuscitation without touching.

  With her free hand, she grabbed both of mine and placed them onto the middle of her pants where her occupied one rested, and like horse reins, I hoisted her up until she was my human pretzel.

  I had her pent against the sink mirror hungrily spying down on her, my masculinity rising at the enticing gestures of her hands journeying across the crack of her ass, back up to the outer folds of her pussylips.

  The fire inside of me turned volcanic as I satanically analyzed how her sticky wetness perpetually ran from her slit, stubbornly preventing her the leeway to part it ever so delicately, renouncing me the rights of passage to her sugary walls.

  “Rip me open please daddy.” She whined.

  I released the grip from one of my balled up fists, and relaxed it on her cleanly shaved vagina.

  With my thumb and index fingers, I gradually worked open her tiny hole, meticulously massaging its moist hoop contoured edges, as it contracted like the mouth of a deep sea bass out of water.

  Relocating my hands below her thighs, I obligingly knelt to get a taste of her spurting sap that was at this stage gushing more fluid than a Jacuzzi pump.

  As her juices intruded my throat, I gulped them down relentlessly like Gatorade after a hard day of rugby scrimmaging.
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  “No more Daddy, no more Daddy, please! I. Need. To. Feel. You. Inside. Of. Me.” She begged.

  I disregarded her.

  Not until her limbs fastened themselves to my sweat drenched head, and her insides were converted into a vibratory exposition did I yield to let her fondle my manliness.

  With urgency, she stroked my girth though my slacks as she groaned for me to unveil my package.

  It felt like a zillion electrodes were running through me when I whipped my penis to the surface and let her stroke me in anticipation.

  Her expression told it all. I had my dream woman right where I wanted her, unable to move from the perplexed clasp I had her in, as I tore open her innocence and watch her eyes recede into the back of their lids.

  Plowing and rowing through her slippery secret made me think of river rafting, as she squeezed her titties together, mildly biting the nipples and making exotic noises, begging for deeper and rougher penetration.

  “OOOOHHH! Cooooo…cooooooo. HARDER! FASTER! DEEPER! Yesssssss!

  I braced myself in an attempt to dismantle her cum soaked tunnel. The more authoritative my thrusts became, the wider her pussy expanded. I was drilling like a jackhammer listening to the therapeutic noises of pleasure, as her coochie farted my name.

  “Whose pussy is this?

  “Yours.”

  Huh?

  “Yours!”

  I can’t hear you?

  “YOURS DADDY!”

  You like that shit don’t you?

  ”Yes.”

  “WHAT!””

  YES PAPI!”

  Yeah, that’s what I thought!”

  I studied her face. She didn’t have those dazzling doe eyes anymore; they were replaced with a sluttishness a man would be lucky to find in the porn industry, and that was all it took for me. A climax from another dimension was formulating its way through my genitals, yes, this was it, this is what I---.

  “What the fuck is going on in here? What the hell do you perverts think you’re doing?”

  “Damn! “ I murmured. We’re skiing. What the fuck does it look like you idiot I silently spat?

  Halfway between bewilderment and a semen utopia, I contrived enough strength to turn and find none other than Super Lick standing there, fuming.

  I didn’t know how long she had been there and I didn’t give a fuck, I was so caught up I hadn’t even bothered to check the door.

  I was willing to put the house on Super Lick going straight to the cockpit with this type of info, but not only did she keep quiet, the next words that came out of her mouth unquestionably flabbergasted me.

  “What have you done?” she asked.

  I wasn’t sure if she was speaking to me or not, so I answered.

  “I haven’t done any---“

  “I’m not fucking speaking to you… you… you, Pig!” she spewed.

  Looking right through me, her anger softened as she watched My Dream Women and spoke mournfully.

  “Baby how could you do this to me? I know things are rocky with us and it’s bad enough you cheat with other women in my face, but a man? And him at that!”

  OK, you can bring the cameras out now, I wanted to say. The gigs up, you guys got me! Good One!

  But, there were no hidden cameras and this was no sham. Wistful but no doubt true, I scrutinized as My Dream Woman walked pass me with my extract catapulting down her quadriceps, and went straight over to Super Lick.

  “Look darling.”

  Her voice was sheer hypnotism.

  “This is nothing. We just happened to bump into each other and well; you know how I can get. Besides, he’s had a rough day and I, I kind of felt sorry for him. Are you going to blame me for that Booby?”

  Booby? This is fucking great! I thought. The woman of my dreams is gay, and her girlfriend walks in on our mercy fuck? Got any more pranks up your sleeve for me Lord?

  It didn’t take much for Super Lick to fold under the erotic persuasion of her lesbian lover.

  For me, I had partaken in more than a man who lived a millennium could tolerate, and I kindly situated myself to leave, only the two tongue acrobats begin to go at it, blocking me in from exiting.

  I’ve never personally watched two lesbians get it on, and didn’t intend to, but once I saw My Dream Woman arch groundwardly, simultaneously spinning Super Lick around, then begin eating her out, I reconsidered. My path was clear to leave now, but I was so into seeing My Dream Woman tongue fuck Super Lick’s gapingly drenched pussyhole, that my shoes had metamorphed into cement blocks.

  My Dream Woman’s anal feasting presentation capsized me, her showmanship was so bewitching, for a minute I thought it was an illusion when I saw My Dream Woman’s hand reach back, grab my balls, and begin to caress them.

  Cupping my nuts in one hand and double penetrating Super Lick with the other, I don’t even remember what transpired. What I do know is, when my pupils stopped dilating, I was tonguing Super Lick, while My Dream Woman fingered her snatch and slurped my balls like a snow cone.

  For the rest of the trip, I sucked and fucked Super Lick and My Dream Woman, and My Dream Woman and Super Lick sucked and fucked me. We fucked so outrageously long, when we temporarily did come up for oxygen, we were met by the pilot and airport security, charged with lewd conduct in a public place, then thrown in the LA County Jail!

  The sheriff eventually allowed us to sign ourselves out on a signature bond where I in turn, immediately then took both girls back to my suite at the Grafton on Sunset Boulevard for a nightcap.

  When I awoke the next morning, the women were gone with no note or numbers to their future whereabouts, leaving me somewhat despondent.

  I still ended up later that afternoon snagging seven out of ten first place votes for BMW at the Auto Expo, but for me it was miniscule compared to the adventure I had just embarked upon with My Dream Woman and her girlfriend, Super Lick.

  More so than not, I think about what happened to me on fight 1482 with those two women and every time I have to laugh out loud and ask myself, “I wonder what clumsy, badluck son of a bitch is getting initiated into The Mile High Club today?”

  Granson Loruth is a free spirited author who knows no boundaries when it comes to pushing the envelope. With no post-secondary educational experience in the literary field, Granson describes his talents as being purely "God willed". Since hitting the writing scene in March of '07, Loruth has already written guest commentary for noiremagazine.com, as well as writing tips for Nikki Maria. From the self proclaimed "planet of truth", Granson promises to make his entry into the world of litrature all but a quiet one, so whether you're paying attention or not, here he comes.

  READY FOR LOVE

  CARAMEL VIXEN

  “Shit! Damn! Shit! OOOOOH!” Sabrina was yelling as her long, acrylic nails scratched down the panel wall. Nineteen year-old, Jazz, was hitting her sides like a pro! He was young but he was damn sure ready. The boy was banging her better than men her own age did.

  Shandra closed her eyes tight and pulled the covers over her head. But not even that drowned out the noise coming from the other side of the thin ass wall. Her roommate, Sabrina was getting her back banged out by her latest Boo.

  The guy looked a little young for Sabrina who was damn near thirty. But based on the sounds Sabrina was making, he must have been all man! He had her ass screaming and climbing the fucking wall! Sabrina pounded on the wall as if she was submitting to his every wish. There was no way Shandra could sleep until their session was over.

  Shandra beat on the wall. She hated to be a stick in the mud but damn! She did have to get up and go to work in less than six hours. Sabrina could have at least gone back to his place. Then again, he probably lived at home with his Momma and family. But that was their problem. Shandra just wanted enough rest to deal with the asshole officers that she had to dispatch for at 911. Sabrina’s freak fest wasn’t important to her at all.

  Shandra could live without having some man grinding on her every night of the w
eek. Hell, she had lived without it for damn near a year. That’s how long she had been separated from her asshole husband, Jerome. He had been so busy grinding on their neighbors and friends that he didn’t have time for Shandra. It was all good until she caught him fucking the neighbor’s eighteen year old daughter, in their bed!

  She walked out of the six-year long marriage with no more than she needed.

  She left with her sanity, her faith, her Bible, and her vibrator. When she got extremely horny all she had to do was pull the glow in the dark ten-inch dick out of her nightstand and let it work its magic. Mr. Magic Stick, the name she gave her vibrator friend, came with no strings attached, literally and figuratively speaking!

  She didn’t have to worry about sharing him with other women. There was zero chance of her contracting an STD from it. And he sure as hell wouldn’t be getting her pregnant! She could turn him on when she needed him and turn his ass off ass soon as she came.

  The noises on the other side of the wall ended with Sabrina’s companion grunting like a wounded animal and Sabrina squealing like a stuck pig. It was easy to guess that they had both peaked. Shandra was just as happy about it as they were. She could finally get some sleep.

  At least that’s what she thought. It wasn’t ten minutes later that she heard the bed rocking again. She pulled her pillow over her face and tried to drown the noises out once again.

  “Good morning!” Sabrina sang, in high spirits. Jazz had taken her to Heaven three times during the night.

  “For who?” Shandra rolled her eyes while downing a cup of black coffee. She had only managed three hours of sleep thanks to Sabrina’s sex marathon. It had taken Mr. Magic Stick fifteen minutes on the last go-round to finally put her to sleep.

  Sabrina laughed. “I’m sorry, Shandra.” Again, Shandra rolled her eyes. Sabrina was not sorry. “Okay, I’m not sorry for getting me some, but I am sorry for keeping you up. Please forgive me!” she whined, hugging Shandra. “And please, get you a man so you can get some good dick!”