Fantasy

I gently caress his manhood and admire the shape, the size, and the pleasure that it brings.
It hardens into position and stands erect as I tease. Like a soldier ready for action.
He smiles and tilts his head back
Because he knows there's no limit to the satisfaction that he's about to receive.

The softness of my kisses,
the warmth of my breath,
the gentle stroke of my hand,
and the smoothness of his skin
makes me cream with excitement as I passionately pull him in.

My hands begin to sweat
and I feel his body start to tremble.
I think to myself, "Damn, what a high!" As I feel the wetness of my sweet temple slowly dripping down my inner thigh.

He penetrates me deeper
and my kisses become more intensified. He knows that I aim to please and make sure he's satisfied.

He lets out a soft moan as he releases his precious treasure. He relishes with delight
and was fulfilled by my oral pleasure.

Outside her apartment, Marissa heard the trill of the telephone as she slipped her key into the lock. The persistent sound of the ring informed her that the call was from one of the two men whom she was sleeping with. Marissa gave a sly smile and deliberately took her time unlocking the door.

Both men knew exactly what time she arrived home from work, thus she was always greeted by the sound of the ringing telephone the moment she approached her apartment door.

Inside her apartment, she took unhurried steps toward the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water before she bothered to even glance at the caller ID. The caller ID spelled out Isaac’s name. Marissa leisurely reached for the phone, but suddenly changed her mind. She withdrew her hand and allowed the call to transfer to her answering machine.

She wasn’t ready to talk to Isaac; she’d give him a call later. Perhaps.
It depended on her mood. She was a chocoholic and chocolate definitely hit her spot, but the type of chocolate she craved changed from day to day.
Isaac was milk chocolate—creamy and smooth. And her other man, Basille, was dark chocolate—sweet with a bitter aftertaste. Both flavors awakened her taste buds and satisfied her yearning.
A few moments after she’d listened to Isaac’s message, Basille began to blow up her cell phone. The phone vibrated inside her purse with such intensity, she could practically hear Basille shouting,
Y
o,
pick up the damn phone!
It was as if Basille was on high alert and intuitively sensed that his position in her bed was threatened by another man.
Marissa let the call roll over to voice mail.
I’ll get in touch with Basille later. If not tonight, I’ll talk to him tomorrow night.
She pulled open the refrigerator and took out a chilled bottle of sparkling wine.
At the moment, she was in need of a relaxing, long, hot bath and the blissful buzz of sparkling wine. There was plenty of time to decide which chocolate flavor she’d indulge in tonight.
Marissa hadn’t always been so blasé about matters of the heart, but after a dozen or more love disasters, she had no choice but to presume that men were incapable of fidelity. So why waste another second of her precious life waiting for
happily ever after
if the notion of true love and monogamy did not exist and was nothing more than a farfetched dream?
For Marissa, it was now all about sex—getting her spot hit on the regular. She had no patience for ordinary lovemaking. No, her man had to satisfy all her senses; he had to be uninhibited— a ferocious, fuck-until-dawn lover.
Never again would she fake an orgasm to appease a man’s ego. Nor would she overly exert herself to bring a limp dick back to life. She would not endure an inexperienced premature ejaculator. Quick shooters had no business being in her bed. She would not tolerate an unimaginative lover.
She knew how to take care of a man in bed and keep him coming back for more; however, her own sexual pleasure was at the top of her list and her carnal needs could not be fulfilled by just one man.
After taking the word
love
out of her vocabulary and changing it to
lust
, Marissa discovered she was in a much better position. She liked being the one who called the shots. The one who set the tone of the relationship—the one who was in control.
Sexing Isaac one night and then getting it on with Basille the next was indeed a juggling act. But Marissa was a skillful performer and had yet to drop the ball.
There’d been several close calls, like the time Isaac searched under her bed, looking for his boxers, which had gotten misplaced during the heat of passion. When Isaac lifted up the satin dust ruffles, he not only retrieved his boxers but rose from the floor holding a man’s belt. A belt that did not belong to him.
It was Basille’s belt, black leather with an oversized square silver-plated buckle, inscribed with an ostentatious gold-colored letter
B.
Isaac dressed somewhat conservatively while Basille dressed and accessorized with the style and flamboyance of a thug.
“What’s this?” Isaac had asked, holding the incriminating evidence, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
For an instant, Marissa held her breath, speechless, but she recovered quickly. “Oh! I was looking for that,” she exclaimed, reaching for the belt. “My cousin Craig’s been buggin’ me all week about this belt. He said he left it here, but I couldn’t find it.”
“Why would your cousin leave his belt
here
?” Isaac lifted his brow doubtfully.
“I let him use my place last week remember? It was . . . ” Marissa paused and looked up in thought. “Last Wednesday…the day I went out of town on that business trip. You remember, don’t you?”
Isaac shook his head and continued to look at her skeptically. “But your cousin Craig’s first initial is
C
.”
“Yeah, I know. He said his girlfriend bought the belt for him; she calls him,
Boo
.” Marissa’s mouth curved into a triumphant smile. Her eyes sparkled, holding Isaac in a challenging gaze. Although he was not thoroughly convinced, Isaac conceded and lowered his eyelids.
Marissa had to give credit where it was due. She was good at her game, even if she said so herself. She’d learned the rules of deception the hard way; but as they say, experience is the best teacher, and she was a quick study.
She recalled the morning she and Basille had torn the bedroom apart searching for the belt. His favorite, Basille had told her. Disappointment turned down the corners of his mouth when Marissa informed him that they had to stop the belt search; she had to get dressed for work. “I’ll look for it later, Boo,” she’d told him and gave him a quick kiss.
Marissa stifled a snicker as she envisioned Basille leaving her apartment, using his hands to hold up his baggy jeans, which threatened to fall off his ass.
Neither Isaac nor Basille had tangible evidence that Marissa was an unfaithful woman. But her numerous disappearing acts, her frequent excuses for unanswered calls—
I hit the silent button by mistake; I didn’t hear my cell ring
—her constant lies and cool detachment kept both men on their toes and made them subconsciously compete for her time, affection, and her good sex. And more than likely, they both wanted her love. She laughed to herself because she knew that, in their hearts, both men wanted to wife her.
Isaac and Basille were as different as night and day. Besides their obsession with her, they didn’t have much in common.
No, that’s not true
, she chided herself. She almost forgot. They both had big feet and large hands, which meant they both were amply endowed with big chocolate sticks.
Giving the subject more thought, she realized that the two men had something else in common. They both went the extra mile in bed. Both served up good dick, giving it to her hard and long—the way she liked it—trying their damnedest to fuck her until she was whipped.
But Marissa realized the perils of being dick-whipped, so she kept her pussy muscles in good shape. Her inner muscles were taut but also flexible enough to snatch, grab, clutch, and tightly squeeze a dick. She had that snapping pussy that made a man curl his toes and grit his teeth to keep from screaming out her name.
Her pussy was so extraordinary, it could endure marathon fucking without trying to siphon off a little love along the way. Marissa didn’t have a hidden agenda. Her cards were on the table:
Fuck that emotionally needy stuff; I don’t need to know if you love me; all I want to know is . . . nigga can you make me cum?
After her bath, as Marissa towel-dried in her bedroom, she considered her two options. It was a difficult decision to make since she enjoyed Basille and Isaac equally. One was as good as the other. They were interchangeable lovers. Therefore, when her phone rang again, she decided she’d accept her bedmate on a first call, first
cum
basis. Revved up and horny, she was ready for an all-night joyride with whoever was on the other end of the phone.
Wanting to enjoy the element of surprise, she picked up the receiver without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“You get my messages?” It was Basille. “Man, I been blowing up your phone for hours and left a million messages. Why didn’t you call me back?”
“I’m sorry, boo,” Marissa said. “I’ve been so busy; I haven’t had a chance to check my messages yet. Is something wrong? Whassup?”
“I was just tryin’ to find out if you wanted to go out and chill with my man and his girl tonight. We were thinking about going to the Caribbean Reef. You know, kick back, have a few drinks, and listen to some sounds . . . ”
“That’s sweet, Basille. But you know I have liquor and music right here. I’m not in the mood for a big crowd; I want to be alone—just you and me,” she said breathily. “Is that all right with you?”
Basille gave a low chuckle. “Yo, you the only Shorty I know who don’t wanna be wined and dined.”
“Some females need all that romantic fluff to feel like a woman, but I’m cool. I like to cut to the chase. The only thing I need…” Her voice trailed off as she released a sultry sigh. “The only thing I need is hanging against your thigh. So do me a favor and tell your friends to hollah back; we’ll get with them some other time.”
“So whatchu sayin’ . . . You just want me to come over and hit it?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Oh, ai’ight; you just wanna get your freak on. I can dig it but, damn, Marissa, why you gotta treat me like I’m a piece of meat?” Basille asked, pretending to be offended.
“Well how about if I kiss that piece of meat and make it feel all better? You want me to do you like that?”
“Mmm,” he uttered; the sound was a low growl that vibrated through the phone. “Yeah, ai’ight, baby girl. That’ll work.”
“You sure you just want me to kiss it? Because I can skip that part and get right on that chocolate stick and give it some serious suction.”
“Umph,” Basille grunted lustfully. “Yo, stop that. You making my dick rise.”
Marissa could imagine Basille pushing down his stiffening bulge that popped up inside his jeans.
“I’ll see you in a short; I’m on my way,” Basille told Marissa.
Marissa had been caressing her clitoris during her conversation with Basille. Stroking it, fondling it as his voice caressed her ears. There was moisture between her legs and on her fingers. She put her fingers up to her nose and sniffed. Her nipples stood up as she became aroused by her own scent. As she replaced the receiver of the phone inside the base, she considered masturbating. With her kitty cat acting up, being demanding, and purring so loudly, she figured she might have to calm it down with a two-finger appetizer before her scrumptious chocolate desert arrived.
Marissa squeezed her breasts and pinched her nipples. Then her middle finger traveled down her abdomen and glided past her navel. When her finger journeyed through her thick forest of pubic hair, the phone jangled again. Her finger halted; her eyes flitted to the caller ID. It was Isaac—again.
She sucked her teeth; Isaac was too late. She’d have to avoid him tonight and make it up to him tomorrow. Hell, she owned that dick; Isaac really didn’t have any choice other than to hope she could fit him into her schedule.
The phone rang again and Marissa felt conflicted. Her vagina was hungry; it tensed with anticipation. But she’d already made her choice. And her choice was dark chocolate. Her choice was Basille.
She ignored the ringing telephone, but could practically feel Isaac’s disappointment. But there was nothing she could do. Juggling two men wasn’t easy. Someone always had to lose.
With all her bravado and sexual liberation, Marissa still wasn’t bold enough to live it up and fulfill her most cherished fantasy. Night and day, she dreamed of having Isaac and Basille together with her—in her bed, lying across her pink satin sheets. She yearned for two pairs of hands caressing her body. Two sets of lips sucking her breasts. And two exquisite dicks alternately thrusting inside her vagina.
The mere thought of her fantasy coming true caused her inner muscles to clinch up. Thus, she squeezed her legs together as she tried to placate and soothe her throbbing pussy.
If only she had the nerve to reveal her secret fantasy—if only she’d take a chance and dare to play it out, her world would become even more enlivened and vibrant—her sexuality would be at its peak. However, as bold as she was, she didn’t know how to present her grand scheme to two men who each thought himself the center of her universe.
Marissa emitted a long sigh as she realized she had a hidden agenda after all. She wanted to get with two men at the same time. But she didn’t have the guts to express that desire. Well, one thing was for sure. She’d never get what she wanted if she continued to keep the fantasy in her mind. Shit, men lived out their fantasies all the time, so why shouldn’t she?
She sucked her teeth in disgust as she contemplated the double standards by which most men lived. The average man wouldn’t hesitate at the opportunity to have two women in bed, but he’d balk and recoil at the suggestion of sharing his proclaimed pussy with another man.
Then she brightened suddenly. She had pussy power and feminine wiles as backup. And dammit it was time to take her relationships to another level; it was time to start plotting on getting Isaac and Basille to submit to some three-way action. She had skills and she’d formulate a plan—she’d have to figure out a way to gently persuade Basille and Isaac to give her what she needed—to make her fantasy come true.
Marissa’s wheels started spinning and she mentally put a plan in motion. She decided to invite both Isaac and Basille over and tell them that they all needed to have a sit down. Suddenly amused, Marissa imagined the confusion and then the anger that would flash on her two lovers’ faces when she admitted that she was a cheat—that they’d been chumped.
To dissolve their fury, she’d hold her head in her hands and take a deep, anguished sigh. At that point, both men would feel sympathetic and soften toward her.
Tears of regret would begin to well in her eyes and, by then, Isaac and Basille would be putty in her hands. Giving an academy award performance, she’d dab at her teary eyes and tell them:
I really care for you both, but I know what I’ve done is wrong . . .
Wracking sobs would halt her words and then she’d straighten her shoulders and compose herself.
Unfortunately, I have to tell you both goodbye.
Those final words would come out in a choked voice with tears streaming down her face.
Now if the situation went as planned, Basille and Isaac would be unable to walk away in anger. Neither man would be willing or able to let go of the best pussy he’d ever had.
Isaac and Basille would have to work out a compromise and agree to a ménage-á-trois. A three-way with her as the star attraction.
It’ll be our secret
, she’d tell them. We’ll be discreet.
No one ever has to know.
Feeling much better, feeling more empowered, Marissa picked up the phone and returned Isaac’s call.
“Hi, sweetie,” she purred. “I just got in; I had to do a little overtime.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Uh huh. You know how crazy my job can get.”
Isaac grunted a response and then spoke clearly. “Do you have some time for me tonight?”