From the Streets to the Sheets (12 page)

“Lick my balls,” he directed. His voice echoed. There was a blue light, an ashtray, and no furniture. It was toasty and smelled of weed. He spread his legs, opening up his invitation.

She nestled between his legs. She put one of his balls in her mouth and hummed. It tingled and sent his piece toward the ceiling. She prided herself on making a man want nothing more than to come in her mouth. She stroked him with her hand while she continued to hum a melody. She searched deeper with her tongue. She listened to his breath. She kept her eyes open as she let her tongue trail up his thickness to where his head expanded. Her fingers looked pale in comparison to his shadowy flesh. She loved chocolate. Loved to make a black man feel what they were missing.

He loved to make a white woman bow down and accept his dick. There was no difference between when a white woman did it and a sista, but it gave him vindication. He would save his love for black women and give the white ones his anger, resentment, and bullshit. She loved the way shit tasted any-ways. That’s what brought her here.

“Can I ride you?” she whispered in between huge gulps of him.

She heard his laugh. She shrank. She’d paid for it and he didn’t want to give her the product. She repeated the question with more determination.

His laugh was the same. “I tell you what you can do, bitch!” He waited for her to say her part.

She read from the same script. “Please tell me what can I do, sir.”

He blew smoke about the room and let out a hearty laugh, exposing his desires of sex.

She was shocked by his idea of sex. She ran from it. Thought it was comical at first, but when he didn’t laugh she knew he was real. She asked him to repeat himself. He blew smoke in her face and asked her if she wanted to leave. She wagged her head. He told her to get to it.

She bit her lip and took more breaths, even asked him to blow smoke in her mouth. This sexual experience was going to be new. It didn’t excite her; but then again, neither did getting smashed by two unknown black guys . . . at first. She was willing to be a full slave. She was willing to give all she had. He told her she had three seconds to move her ass.

She used all of her time. On the third she carefully placed the head inside her mouth. She eased all the way down until his hairs rest on her chin. She felt his hand on the back of her head. He held her there and told her that she would remain until she gave him what he wanted. She couldn’t breathe. With every slight gag she felt his hand push down on her head. She had never done anything so outlandish in her life as she was about to do. He requested something new. Her eyes slammed shut and her body shuddered. With all the thoughts running through her head, she never realized the moistness between her legs. She thought of nothing but how to please this man. She thought about the amount of come she would receive if she did as told. It excited and scared her at the same time.

His hand was joined by another hand. Both pushed her head down to his groin. She gagged but couldn’t get up. Tears streamed down her eyes and for some reason she did not want to open them. She couldn’t open them. She heard him bark, “Do it right now, bitch!”

She lifted the bottom half of her body and positioned it over his leg. Her head was locked to his dick; she gripped his legs and steadied herself. She straddled his left leg and felt him pulsate in her mouth. His grip was lethal; her jaw throbbed now like his penis. She had never experienced this, but it excited her. He fucked the back of her throat and told her it was now or never. She thought about her husband. Then the two black men. Then Pretty’s dick as she squatted over his foot.

He pulled her head back, her mouth released his goods. It stood perfectly straight. She tried to catch her breath, but couldn’t quite do it, even though she’d learned how to inhale and exhale at an early age. He was losing his patience with her inability to do her job. He stood up and ordered her to stand before him.

She wiped her mouth and did as she was told. She bowed her head in resignation. This was different. She would never bow before anyone unless she wanted to. She had no desire to show discontent.

His reaction was the same, he could tell she was out of place. No one would do her mentally the way he planned. Physically was imaginable, almost usual. He didn’t allow her to anticipate. She wouldn’t know when ketchup would hit her hamburger.

He flung his shirt to the ground and walked toward the darkness. No more melodies flowed from the distant. Now voices eased between repetitive beats and the flow was angry. They spoke about pimping and teaching lessons in the hood. She looked out the window and noticed there were bars on it. Whoever rapped in the background must’ve lived around here. Pretty came back into the blue and folded his arms. “You pay for what?”

She stood, humbled and unpolished. Her breasts rested on her pulled-down bra; her panties lay crumpled near her feet. “I pay for whatever you want, sir.”

“I will tell you your job again. I want it done to the tee.” He repeated himself and sat down in the chair.

Humiliation filled her air. She didn’t care. She transformed and reached the ashtray and puffed from the same cigar. Surprisingly, she didn’t choke. She smoked like a veteran.

She placed it in his mouth. Even watched him take two long pulls and blow it in her face. This time she opened her mouth and took in long gray streams of gumption. Her eyes had a different look, almost distant. He was heavily limp. She engulfed him until his piece hit the back of her throat. She placed her hand around the rest that remained. He was thicker than any. She placed her hands on both legs and waited for him to begin. When he did, it felt different. She found a rhythm.

“I need noise, bitch!”

She slurped on command. She allowed fluid to trail down the sides of her hand as she pumped feverishly. Excitement replaced displeasure. She positioned herself over his leg and gave him what he asked for.

He grabbed her shoulders and ushered her closer to the ground. Her back was damp, her shoulders tight. He sensed her desire for connection, but she would connect when he said so. He would allow her a piece of history. His story. Earlier he watched her dance around the request for “foot love.” Now she appeared ready to dance at his request. He’d watched a friend do something similar before and he’d promised himself the attempt. Part of it was curiosity. The other part was, he wanted something demeaning. He forced his words, hoping they would spew like a whip.

She sucked and braced herself with one hand while the other found his foot. She steadied herself over it, letting it touch her lips. She shook violently. Lost most of her composure. Was undecided on rhythm. Above her, he laughed. He was unconcerned.

She gathered herself, found his movement and matched it. She noticed his spasm and the game was on. Her squat was determined. She slow-stroked his dick with intent to disperse. She could feel herself dripping in waves. She felt his toe again, but this time she allowed herself to completely devour it. It felt strange at first, almost like a cross between a finger and a small penis. Above she felt his body tighten. That gave her the energy to come raining down again. She quivered and bucked on cue.

He felt her mood change. It excited him. Made him want to fuck her back with his toe. He arched his foot to expose more of his flesh.

She sat on his foot and began to squeeze as she sucked him harder. For a second it felt good. She would thank him for the introduction to this kind of sex later. Her back arched and she began to grind slowly, rotating her hips.

He wasn’t ready for this. He felt the transition of power. He felt every piece of her insides. They felt like something good. She was warm inside. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced, but a feeling he would want again.

She practiced as he preached. He wasn’t barking any more instructions, so she took over. “Do you like this?”

“S-s-shut the fuck up . . .”

She lifted herself as he spoke. He couldn’t finish. She rode his toe and mashed her face to his hairs. She saved the deep throat until last. She released his hound. “Shut the fuck up what?”

He lost his timing. He couldn’t decipher between the suck and the stroke. Felt like he was having a threesome by himself. He had to finish. Had to call her bitch when he ended his sentence. It wouldn’t come out while she fucked and sucked him. He grabbed her shoulders. They weren’t tight. They listened. “Shut the fuck up, bitch!” It didn’t sound as potent as before.

As soon as the word “bitch” dripped from his mouth she raised herself and came crashing down on his foot. She pulled him from her mouth and sucked the side of his meat. He bent over and massaged her athletic thighs. It was soothing, almost caring.

She removed his hands with a flick of her wrist. “No rubbing. Let’s keep this impersonal, no feelings, you know?”

The thickness of his piece came down as his ego did. She pumped them both up with strong squats and an aggressive shake of his shaft as her lips found the tip. She made love to his head and fucked the shit out of his toe.

He readjusted. “Good, bitch.”

She rode him for all she was worth. She closed her eyes and replaced everything. His toe was the larger black man on the ski trip that fucked her until exhaustion. His dick wasn’t as big as the other, but the winding of his hips and the hitting of her spot, and knowing it, did the job. With every ride of his toe, she imagined her black assailant filling her from behind. The dick she sucked remained Pretty’s. It was still the prettiest she had ever seen. So straight. So thick. And it tasted of fudge.

Her pussy felt like warm weather. He tried to think the feeling away, but she fucked with precision. She bucked and snapped her pussy on his toe. His friend had told him, “Imagine what your toe would feel like.” They spoke of the sensation your toe has and the feeling a great pussy would have. It was a perfect match. Her face traveled to his balls. She licked underneath. He spread his legs. He held on to what dignity he had left. Gave her permission to do what she was already doing. “Lick my balls, bitch.”

She licked underneath them. She felt him jerk. She went back to his head.

“Suck my dick, bitch!” he commanded.

His commands were off by a second, like a bad Chinese movie.

She found the perfect beat. She gave him every bit of soul she didn’t possess. She faked it.

He closed his eyes and it felt like he was inside his girl, Tiffany. Her box was tighter than Scrooge’s wallet. She knew how to squeeze before he entered. The bitch in front of him made sharp waves come over him. Her oral was to die for. She must’ve taught a class. He felt like her student. “Bitch!” He arched his toe. He wanted to fuck her but didn’t want to take anything out.

She slurped. And rode.

He called her high horse. She deserved it. “Bitch!”

She never answered. She figured it was rhetorical. He grabbed her head. He wasn’t concerned about her comfort. She tightened her mouth and sucked him like a vacuum. The black man in back picked up the pace. Pretty grabbed her hair and brought her closer. She felt the strength in his stroke.

She gagged. Rode his toe for all it was worth. She reached another high.

Beautiful Tiffany clenched her pussy and the white bitch gagged. He lost sight. Everything was black. Her mouth professed her love for his meat with moans. His dick tightened in its skin. It expanded and he could feel the pressure. He grabbed her ears and brought himself closer. He invaded her throat. She allowed him. “Fucking dumb bitch,” he yelled.

She was a good bitch, the way she joined him. They both had threesomes. She forgot about the pain in her back, the pulling of her hair, the stubby stabbing of her pussy, and the vile names he called her.

It all meshed. His grip reached her throat and went to her shoulders.

She allowed this.

“Shit!” was screamed by both.

He pumped and released. He held her head still. She quit stroking his digit and allowed him to coat her mouth. He tasted sweet. Almost beautiful.

When he was done, so was she. She had mastered the art of the quiet come. She lifted herself and cleaned his toe with her panties. She never looked his way. Servants weren’t supposed to give eye contact. The movie wasn’t over. She would get her supporting actress role later.

She stuffed her panties in her bag and walked to the door.

He sat in the middle of the blue hue like a weathered saxophone player after a long set. He never looked her way.

She opened the door. Her smile was absent. “I’ll be waiting by the bodega on the corner whenever you’re ready, sir.”

He looked up and smiled. “Watch the Rodriguezes’ dog.”

He paused.

“Bitch.”

HOMEY, LOVER, FRIEND

Thomas Long

“Wake ya tired ass up, girl,” Chastity yelled into the phone.

“I ain’t sleep, fool. I’m just sitting up in here chillin’. Waiting on nothing. What’s up with you?” her friend Mikala asked.

“I’m ain’t doing nothing special. What you getting into tomorrow?”

“I’m probably going out to Arundel Mills Mall to do some shopping. Why? Are you tryin’ to tag along?”

“Hell, yeah! The one thing I like best—next to gettin’ some dick—is spending money on new clothes!”

“Girl, you crazy like a fox. Let’s hook up around one o’clock. I need to get outta this house just to clear my head, ya know what I’m sayin’?”

“Is that nigga still trippin’? You need to get rid of his ass before it’s too late. Jamel ain’t the only fish in the sea. You can find you another man who knows how to twirk that thing,” Chastity said, putting her nose into Mikala’s personal business.

“Nah, me and my boo are gonna work things out. We’ve been together too long to break up. All we need is more time to grow, and everything will be straight between us. Our relationship is gonna go back to the way things used to be,” Mikala said, like she was trying to convince herself even more than she wanted to convince Chastity.

Her friend laughed. “If you say so, but that sure wouldn’t be me. If a man can’t do me right in the bedroom with some good dick, then he ain’t gettin’ nuthin’ but a one-way ticket outta my front door. I need a nigga that knows how to work that
Magic Stick
! That is, unless he knows how to eat the pussy good enough to make me cum. Then I might let him stay for a while.”

“C, you are so nasty. Let me worry about me and my man. I’m about to bounce. I’ma see you tomorrow, homey.”

“Aight, have it your way. If you need me to hook you up with one of my sexperts, let me know. I’ma get up with you tomorrow, though,” Chastity responded, and hung up the phone.

Mikala and Chastity had been best friends since middle school. They were both fine dark-skinned sisters, but Chastity was shorter than Mikala by about four inches, even though her long legs made her seem taller than she was. Chastity had a slim figure, but what she lacked in the ass department she more than made up for with her C-cup breasts.

She was the more outgoing and off-the-hook of the two. She was open about her sexuality and made it clear that she loved to get her freak on. Men were her primary preference, but she wasn’t too shy to fool around with a woman if one came along that sparked her interest. She wasn’t slutty about how she carried herself, but she was blunt enough to tell a man what she wanted up front when it came to having sex. If a man wanted to be with her then he had better bring his A game to the bedroom or she would let him know his skills were whack. She kept at least three male playthings on hand at all times, so when one of them acted up she always had some backup dick waiting on the side.

Mikala, on the other hand, was more reserved when it came to dealing with men. She believed in the one-man-for-one-woman theory, and had stuck to that since she began dating. She was all about true love and putting in hard work to maintain a relationship. Like her mother, she had that old-school thinking, believing a man and his woman should stay together through the hard times, no matter what. That’s why she’d put up with Jamel’s bullshit for so long. But right about now he was beginning to test her patience. Her needs weren’t being met in the sheets, and she was one sexually frustrated sista. If she didn’t love her man so much she’d be out in the street searching for his substitute.

Mikala laid across the bed in the plush condominium that she shared with Jamel. She thought about their relationship and wondered why things had been going so wrong for the past few months. Jamel used to fill her with so much joy, but now she was starting to wonder if she was just putting up with his shit just to be in a relationship. Still, she was willing to put her heart and soul into working things out with Jamel, but the way he was fronting on her was just crazy.

Whenever she tried to talk about their problems, Jamel pushed her away. He worked long hours on the job and when he came home, all he wanted to do was eat and sleep. The weekends were no better because he was either too busy running ball or shooting pool with his boys. They used to get their swerve going at least three times a week. Now she was lucky if he fucked her three times in a month. And whenever they did have sex, it was usually just a quickie, with him bustin’ off in five minutes and rollin’ over to crash right afterward. This nigga wasn’t even considerate enough to let her get her thing off before he did. Shit, Mikala was so horny and in need of some good hard dick that she was about to explode.

She’d met Jamel while they were both attending Morgan State University. Mikala had majored in Computer Engineering, while Jamel had studied Business Management. Chastity, who shared some of the same classes as Jamel, introduced them and they’d hit it off instantly. After graduation they’d moved in together and Mikala had managed to get a six-figure job working for SciTech, the state’s largest growing computer engineering firm, while Jamel worked for the federal government as a financial consultant. In the beginning, their relationship was banging. Two young, intelligent Black professionals with well-defined life goals. But the last few months had been rough as hell, and their future plans were in jeopardy of getting deaded if that niggah didn’t clean up his act.

Mikala got up from the bed and lit a few sweet papaya mango candles she’d placed throughout the room. The soft, sultry sounds of the latest mixed CD of Classic Slow Jams played outta the surround-sound speakers that were positioned in all four corners of the bedroom. She was wearing a pink thong and matching bra as she lay across the king-sized bed, smelling like just enough Black, by Kenneth Cole, to entice her man. It didn’t matter what kind of attitude Jamel came home with, she was planning on having an all-night fuck fest with her man tonight. That is, until she looked at her phone and noticed the message light blinking.

“Hey, baby, it’s me. I’m just calling to let you know that I’ma be home late tonight. Me and a few sons are gonna get some yak after work. Then we prolly gonna go shoot some pool. I don’t know when I’ma get in, so don’t wait up. I luh you, girl.”

Mikala sat up, pissed. She tried to call him back to curse him out, but his phone went straight to voice mail because he always turned it off when he was having private time with his crew and didn’t want to be disturbed.

Mikala stood up and looked at herself in her full-length mirror. She was ready to see herself looking ugly as hell, even though the mirror told her that was far from the truth. She was as fine as fine could be. She coulda been posing as a centerfold in somebody’s hot magazine with her killa smile and full lips. Her long flowing hair, curvy legs, and D-cup breasts put people in the mind of that beautiful actress Kenya Moore. It was a damn shame for a woman with a body as off da chain as hers to have a man who dissed her in the sheets. While Jamel was out running the damn streets with his boys, Mikala was home alone and was gonna have to handle her own business if she wanted a nut tonight.

She reached under the bed and felt around for the shoe box where she kept her collection of intimate secrets. Jamel wasn’t even up on her private stash. She used all kinds of sex toys to take care of that spot he neglected. She had warming massage oils, fruity-flavored whipped cream, handcuffs, and mad dildos that she’s bought off of the Internet. Chastity had put her down with the website
www.getyafreakon.com
, and now she was a regular customer. She’d never used any of her toys with Jamel because he never wanted to try anything new with her.

Mikala’s favorite sex toy was the Bullet. It was a small silver vibrator that had a cord attached to it with a control switch that allowed you to adjust the intensity of the vibration. It could go hard and fast, if you wanted to feel a throbbing motion like a man was pounding on your pussy nonstop, or it could go slow if you wanted to take your time to savor your orgasm.
That lil’ gadget was the truth!
If the Bullet couldn’t make a woman cum, then a bitch had something wrong with the nerves in her coochie!

Mikala held the Bullet in her hand and took a bottle of Pure Satisfaction oil outta her shoe box and then placed the box back under the bed. She slid off her thong and unhooked her bra to get a little bit more comfortable as she reclined on the silk sheets with her head resting on the fluffy pillows. She took a few drops of the oil and placed it on the tips of her fingers. She gently rubbed it on her clit and slowly the oil began to heat up. Goose bumps rose on her arms. She adjusted the level of the Bullet until it was just right and placed it up against her clit as her mind slid off into a world of ecstasy.

Within a few minutes, she could feel the juices begin to run from her warm vagina. She caressed her nipples one at a time. She lifted them toward her, then used her tongue to bring them to full attention as she licked and sucked with delight. Her ass cheeks clenched tighter as the Bullet vibrated. The sensual sounds coming from the stereo made the episode that much more erotic.

In her mind, Mikala was getting down with a masked stranger who packed a big dick. She’d had this fantasy many times before, and it got better each time she relived it. Since her man refused to address her needs, she used her imagination to create the ideal man that could do the job. At first, she felt like she was cheating on Jamel to have thoughts of sleeping with another man, but, over time, that feeling faded. She called the brothah in her fantasy Borne. He was baldheaded and had dark brown, island-tanned skin. Jail-house tattoos were all over his chest and back. His hands were rough, like he worked construction or something, and they sent chills up and down her spine when he touched her flesh. He was muscular from head to toe and had an ass that she loved to dig her nails into. She didn’t give a damn what Borne’s face looked like because it was about the way he made her body feel and riding his big dick until she got hers.

As she got more aroused by the Bullet, she decided to take this fantasy to the next level. She slid it into her love cave, enjoying its magical powers as it pressed against her pussy walls. She let her fingers roam over her dripping-wet pussy, then placed them in her mouth to taste her own juices. The rush was unbelievable. She squeezed her eyes shut and pretended that the Bullet was Borne’s dick going in and out of her with precision. Her fantasy seemed realer by the minute as her body played out a hot movie in which she was the star actress. Every stroke of Borne’s penis made her feel like she had died and gone to heaven. She envisioned him turning her over on her back and digging himself deep inside of her as she grabbed hold of the headboard. Borne beat her pussy up just the way she liked it. Every position he put her in felt better than the previous one.
Damn, why can’t Jamel make me feel like this! I need me a thug nigga in my life to do this pussy right!
she thought.

After she came for the third time, Mikala groaned as she imagined Borne pulling his dick out of her and smacking her across the face with it. In her fantasy, she was a pro at the head game, but in reality she was still learning how to do it right. Jamel didn’t like head anyway. He refused to go down on her because he said oral sex was disgusting. Deep in her fantasy, Mikala got down to business and sucked Borne’s dick to death before he released a tidal wave of liquid protein straight into her mouth. The sweet taste of his cum was better than Grandma’s blueberry pie.

Borne returned the favor as he wrapped her legs around his neck and dug his tongue into her pussy with reckless abandon. Every time he licked her clit, her whole body jumped up off of the bed. When he sucked her pink sugar walls, she grabbed his head and screamed so loud she probably woke up her neighbors. After letting her come all over his face, Borne wiped his chin with a towel and got dressed. He walked out the front door without saying a word. Her fantasy man was gone for now, but Mikala knew he would return anytime she needed his services.

Satisfied, Mikala went into the bathroom and washed the Bullet off and put it back into the box. She changed the bed-sheets, which were soaked with her juices, and got back under the covers to go to sleep. It was 1:00
A.M.
Jamel still wasn’t home.
That motherfucker is about to make me leave his ass if he don’t give me what I need,
she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

                  •                  •                  •

The next few weeks were pretty much the same thing for Mikala. Every weekend Jamel was out in the streets while she was home all alone. Chastity had tried to get her to go out to the club with her on numerous occasions, but she refused. She chose to stay home and play with her best friend, the Bullet. She remained committed to trying to make things work in her relationship, even though the arguments between her and Jamel had become more intense. The whole situation came to a head one weekend when Jamel went out on a Friday night and didn’t come back home until Monday morning, just in time to get ready for work.

Mikala was pissed. She’d called his cell all weekend and got no response, so she took Monday off from work just to lay in wait for him. Jamel had never stayed out all night before, let alone a whole weekend. He had crossed the line this time and totally disrespected their so-called relationship, and when Jamel put his key in the door Monday morning, she was laying across the living room sofa waiting for him.

“Where the fuck have you been, niggah?” she yelled. As he walked past her, she caught a whiff of women’s perfume in a brand she didn’t own.

“I was out with my boys. Don’t question me. I ain’t got time for this shit right now. I gotta go to work,” he replied.

She couldn’t believe he could be so bold and nonchalant after being out all weekend. All of her anger came flying out.

“You ain’t got time? Well you better make time. You weren’t out with ya boys this weekend. Chastity saw Bobby and Ju at the movies on a double date. You have the nerve to lie to me and come up in my house smelling like some other bitch? Oh, hell no, it ain’t even going down like that!”