Sexaholics (4 page)

He directed her to the end of the bed, turning her around to face the
headboard on her knees while he stood behind her. Her ass was propped up high
for easy access.

Dwayne grabbed a Magnum XL from the headboard shelf, ripped the corner of the
gold foil with his teeth and hurried to slip it on, and then entered her all the
way back on the very first stroke. She gasped and began to yell, “Yeah,
run that all day long. Damn. Get that. Shit. Get it.” She looked back
seductively, saying words that would make a prostitute blush. “Uhm, uhm,
uhm. Look at you. Big dick muthafucka.” She looked like she was mad at
somebody, and worked him by bucking back hard and throwing much ass his way. He
popped her fleshy cheeks with a “smack it up, flip it, rub it down”
move. “Oh, hell yeah. Fuck that shit.” Her liquidity was a voluble
audible, no challenge for the next slow-fuck song in the background,
“In the Mood” by the Whispers. But Miki was in the fucking mood way
before they even met.

He looked impressed and continued to dig in like his dick was a tablespoon
and she was seafood gumbo.

She said in a half-kidding, shit-talking voice, “Uh-oh, cavity search.
Yeah, I’ll take it all. Get that. Get it.” She yelled like
he’d made a last-second touchdown.

He watched her ass work him. “Awww, shit.”

“Yeah, fuck that pussy. I’ma call you Parkay cause you on a roll,
muthafucka. Slap my ass again. Slap the fuck outta that bad boy.”

And slap the fuck he did.

She gave him a ride as though he was Zorro and she was Tornado, wearing a
golden saddle, but her words were bordering on hood. “Ohhh, holla at cha
girl. You workin that shit over, look at you. Get that shit. All up in there.
Oooh, yeah, you gonna give me that fucking milk shake in a minute, ain’t
chu? I can tell. That shit is ready to blow. Look at you.”

He stopped and almost held his breath, trying to hold out. “Here,
switch up again.” He grabbed his dick and pulled out fast. His words
were rushed. “Get on your knees and suck this.” He ripped off his
rubber and threw it wherever.

She moved fast to kneel onto the carpet and he slapped her soft face with his
impatient dick. She grinned, looking extrapleased by his aggressiveness.
Miki spit on his fresh-from-the-pussy shaft. She looked at her own creamy
saliva as it soaked his skin. “I’m markin the beast with that
shit.” She spit again just before she took him down her throat. The stream
of excess saliva dripped onto the carpet. She kept her sights on his facial
expressions, being that she saw his climbing the wall as an ego massage. Being
in the driver’s seat was right where Miki liked to be.

“Damn, you’re messy,” he said, as though it was both a
complaint and a compliment, looking up toward the ceiling. He placed his
hands on each side of her freshly weaved hair. His jaw was tight. His eyes were
tight. His ass was tight. He looked frantic, like he was desperately fighting to
hold it. “Uuummmh yeah. Yeah. That’s some dick suckin fo yo
ass.”

She licked his nuts like he’d licked her pussy, and downed him from tip
to base and again growled, hob-knobbing fanatically, twisting her right
hand in a circle from wrist to fingertips.

“Right there. Right there.” His breathing grew unstable.

She continued to bob and bob and bob and stroke and stroke and stroke
and suck and suck and suck, like his cock was a chocolate Tootsie Pop.

He looked down and took a half step back. Erotic urgency took over his face.
He grunted while speaking. “Wait. Here it is. I wanna cum on your
face.” He choked the throat of his platinum dick. A heavy vein sprouted
from the middle of his forehead and from the center of his shaft.

She released his dick from her mouth and met his peehole with her lips.

He cried her name, “Miki,” with a baritone shrill, secured his
aim, and jetted intermittent spurts onto her long tongue runway as she stuck it
out for his sperm landing. Some hit the side of her mouth and some hit her right
cheek. She drained his dick and licked her lips and even gave a full swallow of
his salty, warm semen, as though it would be rude not to.

She made more gargling sounds with his cum and smacked her lips, looking up
at him with her huge brown eyes, giving him a nasty-girl face, yet she was the
one to say to him, “You so fuckin nasty.” As she spoke, three small
drops that had landed on her throat dripped right between her tits, making a
pearl necklace. She laughed. “Damn, killa. All over my fuckin mouth and
throat.” She looked down at the fluid facial and joked, “He painted
a Picasso.” She played with his droplets with her fingertips. “You a
fuckin Picasso.”

He laughed out loud. His eyes showed he was intoxicated from her skills.

“Let’s recycle that shit,” she said, as she scooped a drop
with her finger and licked it off. Her porn-star performance was just her way of
saying thank you.

His voice was shaky. “Damn. I could get used to this. We’re gonna
have to have a part two. That was a damn blow-job sandwich there. This shit is
crazy.” The post-orgasm hormones had him making dick promises. He looked
at her with admiration for putting it on him right and took stumbling steps
into his bathroom, grabbing a black washcloth and running warm water on it. He
exited and then approached Miki, handed it to her, and then collapsed onto the
bed, turning onto his back while his chest rose and fell.

She took the cloth. “Thanks.” Miki wiped her mouth and cheeks and
neck, and then held on to it, laying her head upon his stomach. “True. But
don’t forget. We’re supposed to be reforming.”

They were quiet.

His breathing was still hard. He gave a delayed response, like he’d
been on a pussy trip. “Fuck reforming tonight.”

She grinned.

He grinned and looked down at her round ass. “You’re
bad.”

“I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way.” She batted
her long eyelashes.

“Yes you are.” His eyes stayed on her backside. “I say I
eat that greasy pussy till you cum in my mouth. I mean after all, turnabout is
fair play.” He took her cloth and laid it upon the nightstand.

She replied by immediately turning onto her back and spreading her legs open
as he maneuvered his way to what lay between her wall-to-wall thighs.

She still tasted as sweet as she smelled and he noticed. He inhaled even
deeper and his head swam. The smell of pussy had him going. It was his drug.

Her thighs were now his earmuffs and he was all hers. The touch of his tongue
upon her clit had her squirming in ecstasy. She let him examine her every nook
and cranny, and closed her eyes to focus on his oral travels.

Ten minutes later, Miki’s legs tightened and she came in Dwayne’s
mouth. He lapped it up, feeling her clit dance. He ended with a soft, subtle
kiss against her opening and looked up at her with an inkling of wonder. And
then he mounted her again.

And for the next hour, they fucked again and again, using two more man-sized
condoms.

Once the last bit of their erotic screwing was unscrewed, they lay back side
by side, coated with each other’s sweat, with looks of pure-dee
satisfaction, even though they’d already fallen off the no-fucking wagon
on the very same day of their first rehab meeting. And even though he had a bevy
of beautiful and willing women at his disposal each and every night, women who
came into the popular nightclub he owned, for some reason aside from her booty of life and heavenly pussy, Miki had his full
attention.

For Miki, it was routine. It was just a fuck. The rest was only a fantasy.
Dwayne was definitely Dr. Feelgood, but it was just another lustful need
fulfilled. Just an everyday thing, the variety she craved. Her tank was again
temporarily full.

Miki’s mind momentarily slipped away from the intense, high-powered lay
she’d just experienced. She sat up in the bed and came to a naked stance,
fingering the tousled strands of her long hair. She never was one to lounge in
the booty-call afterglow and hang around unless there was a commitment. Though
because of her impossible sexual desires, she really didn’t know the true
meaning of the word
commitment
, anyway.

She began to gather her clothes so she could head home for a quick shower and
change. Her six-year-old son, T.J., would be at his father’s house until
the next morning, and right now all she could think about was how much pussy-fun
she was going to have at her favorite place, the place that had employed her for
three years awhile back. The tittie bar.

She got dressed and approached the bed where Dwayne lay upon his back. She
leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. He then rose to a slow stance and took
delayed steps, following her to the front door, eyeing every inch of her shapely
frame from behind.

Miki’s platinum phone rang, and she took it from her green Coach
satchel to eye the screen. It was her boyfriend, Tariq. It was his third call.
She pressed Ignore.

She noticed Dwayne as he stood in the doorway, looking like the bomb-ass
pussy of his life was about to head out to Afghanistan and never return. She
turned her sights toward her car after he watched her step from the front door
to the driveway of his cul-de-sac home. She slammed her hips on purpose from
left to right.

She hopped in her black cherry Mitsubishi Montero and sped off.

Sexual sobriety would be a stranger to them both for at least another day.
Lust, just as it was before their impulsive sexual encounter, was their closest
friend.

They had the exact same libidos.

They were lushes. Sex drunks.

Their sex drives were in overdrive.

Perfect for the moment.

Teela

S
hort and thick with a sister-girl
rear end, Teela Raye rode in her cloud-white 300Z through the predictably
slow-moving evening traffic of the 405 North, taking the short drive after
stopping by her mom’s place in Westwood near Wilshire Boulevard. It had
been an unheard-of three-hour visit. She was now headed to the
townhome she shared with her man, Austin Henderson, in the beautiful Fox
Hills area of Culver City, mainly inhabited by younger African American
professionals.

Most of the handsome neighborhood consisted of large apartment communities,
but a few of the buildings had been converted into condos. Teela bought her unit
over six years ago and was saving up to buy a new home in Baldwin Hills. Austin
moved in with her three months after they met, and they split the bills in
half.

She rested her left elbow along the soft leather-lined door of her sports
car, with the gentle nighttime breeze spiraling along the strands of her spiky
hair. She struggled to eject the mental video of the conversation playback
she’d just had with her mom.
You need to leave Austin. You need to
tell him to move out. He’ll be the death of you or the death of himself.
Believe me. You can absolutely do better.

Teela thought to herself,
She’s disliked him ever since he moved in
with me. Said no real man would do that. And now that I admitted to her that
I’m a sexaholic, in her opinion it’s all Austin’s fault.
Funny.

She called Austin, using the speakerphone. “Hey Austin. I’m on my
way. Once the meeting was over, I did end up spending more time at Mom’s
than I thought.”

“Oh, okay, cool. So how’d it go? The meeting, I mean,” he
inquired, with an excited depth to his voice just as she prepared to hang
up.

She readjusted her elbow along the door and smoothed a few strands of
short hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. I guess it’s too
early to say. The lady who’s the group sponsor seems cool. Everyone in
there has issues just as deep as the next one.”

His voice was deep. “Well, hell, you know how I feel. What you seem to
call issues really aren’t issues at all. You must be the most normal one
in there.”

Her voice was soft. “I don’t think so. If you ask me, my shit is
right up there with the rest of em. Mainly it was men, but there were four of us
women, the newbies. This cool girl named Brandi and a couple of other girls. I
think their names are Valencia and Miki, all confessing the worst. Basically
admitting what put them over the edge.”

“Oh yeah? What kinda shit did they have?” His inquiring mind
wanted to know.

She clicked her tongue. “I can’t tell you. Everywhere you look,
the signs say nothing goes beyond those walls. And we all vowed that what
happens at Sexaholics, stays at Sexaholics.”

“Oh yeah, right. Like most of those folks aren’t at home telling
everything they heard by now.”

“Well, I sure won’t.” She exited at Centinela and proceeded
to Bristol Parkway.

“I’ll bet I can get it out of you.”

She turned on Green Valley Circle. “Your ass needs to be sitting in
there right along with me, confessing. With your kinky self.”

“I beg to differ. No need to detox on my end. You and me, we do what we
do, and that’s cool. You know how I feel about that. I say you’re
wasting your time. Being a voyeur is not that serious.”