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• http://www.everynighterotica.com/the-poor-reverend-moore-yasmine-jones/
• http://www.everynighterotica.com/wrong-yasmine-jones/

Thank you — Jennifer Case

But he soon had company.

“Your manager know you’re smoking, boy?”

She was slender, black, beautiful. With full lips and giant eyes that never stopped searching. No sequined evening gown tonight, no prom-ready beehive stacked to the ceiling, but he instantly knew the face. And the voice. Everybody knew the voice.

“Diana!”

They’d met on tour in Houston, then crossed paths again in New York. Now in the Motor City, her home turf, she unwrapped a smile for him and laced those boney arms around his chest. Something about him – maybe the accent, maybe the glasses, maybe the cheeky demeanor –turned her into a screeching fourteen year-old herself.

“Hello, John! Taking a break from being a heartthrob?”

“I’m trying. ‘ere! Give us a nickel, love.”

“A nickel?”

“Yes, one of those round things with that Jefferson bloke on it.”

She reached into her pocket, surrendered the nickel just as he grabbed her wrist and led her down the hallway…

They got to a photo booth, ducked inside just as a pair of adolescent feet clicked up behind them. She wedged herself around his arms, onto his lap. They giggled as the feet clicked past them, suspecting nothing. But the giggles stopped and their eyes, now accustomed to the dark, darted into each other uncomfortably.

“Give us a song then,” John urged.

“Aren’t we gonna’ take a picture?” she asked.

“I’d rather hear ‘Baby Love.’

She blushed, but soon surrendered.

Baby love, my baby love.

I need you, oh how I need you…

Then came another meeting of eyes, noses crashing into an accidental dance, mahogany skin on white. His fingers tracing the outline of that smile as it stretched for the borders of her thin face. Then a kiss, lips locked into dangerous motion, sucking, savoring, then snapping apart.

More footsteps outside, not that they’d notice. Not that anything, anywhere could pry apart those heated bodies, that photo booth becoming a cramped back row of a theater balcony. They poured themselves onto each other like kids. They were kids really, thrust into dizzying grown-up lives. But they had found an escape in this grinding of bodies, this twisting of souls. They had twined and roped and knotted themselves into something miles away from the chaos.

But the scream brought them back.

They hadn’t noticed that someone had yanked up the curtain. A crowd had gathered and gawked in disbelief. And now their ears were under assault from a chorus of gleeful shrieks. And it was time to race away and apart. Their plans would have to wait.

***

And they wound up waiting three years. Three long years before a chance meeting in a San Francisco coffee shop. Their eyes locked across a room full of groovy, past the wall of weed smoke and paisley. That playful grope in the dark of that photo booth seemed at least seven hairstyles ago. They were no longer kids. But if the years had made them strangers again, they hadn’t chased away the longing. Strangers or not, they ached to rediscover each other, one misguided kiss at a time.

John was holding court, surrounded by a peace-in or a freak-out or maybe it was just a bad acid trip in Technicolor. He excused himself and weaved through the bodies, beckoning her with his eyes. The beard was new. The clothes were a million times funkier than anything he would have dared sport in sixty-four. But it was him all right, same John. He was still the unclaimed trophy she wanted on her mantle. Still the only reason to she’d find herself in the middle of this hip happening fashion nightmare.

Diana approached him, chiseled past the bullshit. No chit-chat, no greeting:

“I need you, John.”

“You feeling okay, love? You look knackered.”

“Let’s go somewhere to talk.”

They found a tiny corner upstairs and disappeared in it. Diana spilled it out in an angry, reckless ride of a paragraph.

“It’s too much, John, too much pressure, too many questions, too many fans, not enough sleep. Flo is gone and Mary hates me. Everything’s moving too quickly, too crazy – even the good parts. What happened to everything? What happened to us?”

No words from John, not that any would help. Nothing to do but plant that weary head on his shoulder and let everything flush itself out of her suddenly frantic life. Her hand wandered to his chest and their eyes stopped avoided each other.

“Is there a place we can go?” she asked.

“I’ll find one.”

It was a damp musty spare room that nobody seemed to bother with. It was perfect.

They slipped into each other’s limbs as if it had been only days since their embrace in the photo booth. They linked elbows, fingers, legs, teeth. She grabbed his face and bit into it, knocking his glasses to the floor and slapping away any trace of uncertainty. She wanted this.

They sprang out of their clothes and onto the bed, crashing together with a slap and setting the mattress’s harmony of creaks into motion. She angled herself over him, thighs pinning his waist into compliance. She was the boss, the ruler, the queen. And he liked it.

She leaned into him, lips creeping closer but not quite there.

“You know what I want, John?”

His lips curled into a schoolboy’s grin.

“What do you want, Diana?”

She arched her knees upward, eased herself forward, opened the doors.

“I want you to take me away. To someplace else, baby. Anyplace else.”

Her hands swept to his shoulders, dragged him to the place she needed his lips to be.
And he dove right in, tongue lapping, teeth squeezing. He pulled with his lips and teased with the tip of his finger. His touch was just right, just gentle enough to shove her into a bone-shaking rattle. Then he got bossy.

He flipped the queen over and yanked up her legs, knees to her chest, mashing against her tiny tits. He took a dive inside her and stirred the juices into a tempest. She pushed her hips upward, meeting those hungry moans and muffling them. She croaked and cringed through a series of waves that lifted her up and left her floating.

“Oh, John… I can feel it! Right there, I can feel it!”

Then the voice was back, soaring, sailing above everything, even the madness that prompted that meeting of mouth to pussy. She reached deep into her chest to find a growl that leapt way beyond the pussycat’s purr the world had come to love. She was yelping now, barking. With her claws digging into his shoulders and her scrawny legs kicking into a spastic dance, this was way too much perfection, an overdose of sunshine.

But he was just getting started, nibbling, tickling, tugging. He was jabbing away at the demon inside her, setting him free. She stretched into an acrobat’s arc, then turned to rubber, exploding into somebody new.

With her spine twisted and her eyes seeking release from their sockets, her hair spilling everywhere at once, she needed nothing now but a body to guide her back to earth. She squeezed his shoulders and exhaled for the first time in hours.

“John, John, John. You just don’t know, baby. Don’t know how badly I needed that.”

But he heard nothing. The day had drained him of everything and so he now drifted into the slumber of an infant. No sense waking him, she thought. There was nothing left to say anyway. She put on her clothes and tiptoed out of his world for another decade.

***

When they met again, they’d find each other in livelier spirits. The seventies had lurched to a close and the decade just ahead danced with promise and vigor. Their lives intersected at a Manhattan shindig peopled by the usual cast of hangers-on, flatterers, status-seekers and flamboyant bores. They slipped away from the ass-kissing and coke-fueled small talk and, in their usual manner, found a quiet corner to trade indecorous ideas.

“What are you doing here, John?”

“I live here, as far as I can recall. I love this place, this mad city and its beautiful noise pollution. I just wish I could get away sometimes, you know? Just wish I could take a weekend off from being the Walrus.”

“I dig,” she answered.

“But what’s your excuse, love? What brings you to this lovely island of upscale depravity?”

“Business. Got a new album coming out so I guess it’s time to paste on the smile and turn on the charm,” Diana said, demonstrating the smile.

“Very authentic.”

Then came an hour of updates, gossip and crazy plans for the future. The news had been glorious, tragic, bizarre and mundane. They’d grown up and grown into the madness of their frantically public lives.

“Things are cool. Getting better. It’d be nice if I could turn the spotlight off every once in a while. But it is what it is, baby. It’s the life we all want,” she said.

John’s gaze landed on her eyes and stayed there. A tense moment chased them into silence. But they didn’t fight it. It was a moment too sweet to run from.

“There’s um… a room in back if you’d like to – ” he started.

“I’d love to,” she finished.

There was no hurry this time. They had the rest of their lives to savor each other’s taste. They had forever to kiss, nuzzle, nibble all those places that sat neglected for too many years.

John’s mouth motored into overdrive within seconds of finding that spot again, that aching, empty island he seemingly discovered a decade earlier.

“There we are,” Diana announced. “That’s the place.”

And he stayed, chewing her into submission, sending her head back, her shoulders into a round of quivers and her belly to the sky. It was almost ugly, this demon she was twisting into, this gargoyle that was taking command. But he didn’t let the contortions frighten him away.

Instead he pushed inside her, with fingers, teeth, lips, tongue slipping inside and supplying loving shoves. The tigress soon roared for more:

“Inside me, baby. Fill me up!”

And it was time to feed his own hungry demons.

Already hard and aching for release, he needed only to be aimed the right way. He prodded inside, a bit clumsy, but the spot had been hit. He was inside and soaking in her sweetness. She wrapped her legs, arms and somehow her smile around his pounding torso. Their voices rose in tandem, a frenzied duet; their limbs locked. They danced to a phantom beat.

The Goddess issued a final command before they climbed higher.

“Harder, John. More!”

He inched inside harder, stronger. He emptied himself, back arching, neck stretching, eyelids undecided – slammed shut, then popped open. He collapsed into her waiting arms, nothing left to give. They bathed together in this painfully sweet light. They celebrated this moment, this blissful union safely away from the world’s prying eyes. They stayed there and lay still without a worry to yank them back to the gold-plated chaos of their lives. They made the moment feel like forever.

But it still somehow felt unfinished, a song without a second verse. A chance to write one was gone within months, wiped away by a madman’s angry bullet.

And he would be gone forever, with nothing to remember him by but memories that seemed borrowed from another couple’s life. They were strangers really, with nothing between them to call their own. Not even a picture. Maybe she should have taken one in that photo booth.

_____________________

Donnie Magazino is the pen name of crime fiction writer Copper Smith, which the is pen name of screenwriter David Copper. He gets dizzy just thinking about who he actually is. But he’s pretty sure he lives in Minneapolis and plays the mandolin.

He’s currently writing a serialized novel of lurid pulp called Kitten in the Crosshairs. To read more from Donnie go here: http://www.jukepopserials.com/home/read/26.

There were three things that really insulted me about the whole “cinnamon dick” thing. First, if he let some other girl suck his dick and then offered the same dick to me without washing it first, his actions go beyond any level of disrespect and bad hygiene that I’ve ever heard. I mean, how gross is that?

Second, how stupid does he think I am that I wouldn’t notice? I mean, what if I called him on it right then? What could he have said? “No, baby, that’s my natural pheromone smell.” Yeah, right.

And third, how stupid is he that he thought he could get away with sneaking around on someone who works for a security company? The very next day I was at the office, loading up on hidden camera gear to set up in his bedroom. He wasn’t getting away with this shit. I’m not some psycho, but if a guy leads you on by telling you that he wants a deep, meaningful relationship while he’s still out whoring, then he’s setting himself up for all kinds of trouble.

Naturally, the whole thing was a blow to my female ego as well. I’m a good-looking woman, I take care of myself, and I like to fuck. What more could he want? Whatever it was, I was going to find out.

Planting the camera in his bedroom was easy. I tucked a pin-size device over his closet, aimed at his bed, and then retrieved it few days later to see what it had recorded. A whole lot of nothing, mostly, but when the action arrived, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I sat in my office at work watching the whole thing on my computer. On the second afternoon, Nathan, my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, walked into the room, leading this hot little thing by the hand. Nathan’s a big guy, over six feet, and he’s a professional trainer, so he’s got an excellent build without being overly-pumped up. But because he’s so big, this girl he brought in looked extra-dainty.

She had an Asian look to her face and a tight little body, displayed by a clinging blue dress that barely covered her rear. It didn’t cover her rear for long anyway, because as soon as they were in the room Nathan had his hands on her, kissing her on the mouth and running his hands up her legs the pull the dress up and expose that little slut’s ass.

They made out for a while until she dropped to her knees and pulled his cock out of his pants and started sucking on him. Then, when he had a good hard on, he pulled her to her feet, peeled her dress off over her head, and sat her down on the edge of the bed, before sliding her little slut panties off. And that’s when my eyes started popping out of my head…

The resolution on the camera was pretty good, but I thought there must be some blurriness or something, because it looked like the girl had a cock. Not a huge cock, but a little cock for sure. When Nathan got on his hands and knees in front of her and started bobbing, there was no doubt what she had to offer that I didn’t.

My stomach turned, but I found my thighs clenching together as I watched him suck her cock, lick her balls, and then turn her over on her hands and knees so he could lick her ass. This was all prep for the big moment however, when he put his hands on her waist, got into his position, and mounted her from behind, giving several short thrusts as he entered.

The cock that had been in my mouth had also been up this boy-girl’s ass.

I watched them fuck like that, carrying on until the crucial moment when he pulled out, and the little slut hopped down in front of him to catch his load in her mouth. Then, after he was finished, she lay back on the bed so he could finish her off with his own mouth.

I shut off the video. I was blown away. And I was finished with Nathan, that was for sure. I was in over my head with this guy. But I wasn’t going to just walk away, oh no.

Through my job I had plenty of connections with investigators, and I called in a favor and got a tail set on the girl. The boy? Girl-boy? Did she count as a ladyboy, or a tranny, or what? I didn’t want to get into labels.

I got this guy Ted to stake out Nathan’s place for a while. That type of work wasn’t cheap, but I’d sent a lot of business Ted’s way, so he gave me a rate. Plus, I asked him sexy-nice, which is always a good way to get a discount.

Since Nathan is such a goddamn horndog, he showed up with his new fuck-toy on the first day Ted was there outside his building. Nathan arrived with her in his car and took her upstairs. Ted waited outside until they were finished, and when they left again, he followed them to a restaurant, where she got into her own car. Ted followed her from there, and trailed her to a high-end condo building downtown.

“I ran the plates on her car,” Ted told me, “and they’re registered to some guy who lives in the building. I’ve got the address here for you, and a picture of the guy.”

“Thank you so much,” I said, and I gave him a tight hug. He sniffed my hair a little. That was okay. Things like that make people feel better about taking a huge cut off their regular rate.

I waited until the next day, and then dressed up sexier than hell, in a tight white blouse that showed off my rack, and a black skirt. My hair and makeup were perfect. She might have been a cute little thing, but I wanted to look like a full-on knockout when I confronted her.

I went up to the condo building and staked out the unit. I waited until the old dude left, waited another ten minutes, and then went up and knocked on the door.

She opened it and looked blankly at me. She had no idea who I was. It was nine-thirty in the morning, and she was dressed like she was ready to go to work at a strip club. She had on a pink tube dress that hugged every curve on her ultra-feminine body. Her boobs, no doubt created by implants and hormone therapy, pressed out the top, and her lips looked made for blowjobs. She may have had a cock hidden inside that dress, but she was the kind of sexy that could make men bash each other’s brains out.

I wasn’t going to let her intimidate me with her hottness. I smiled warmly. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Charlotte.”

She looked at me blankly. “Okay,” she said.

“You don’t know me,” I continued, “but I think you know Nathan. You know, that guy whose mouth you shoot your little load of boy-cum into? I’m the girl he kisses at night.”

She smirked. “Then I guess you’ve been tasting my cum too,” she said, and she started to close the door.

I moved fast to push it open and slip inside, slamming it shut behind me.

“What are you doing?” she snapped. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“Nice place,” I said, looking around the spacious, bright condo. “I guess you must be fucking a pretty well-off guy to stay here. And he lets you drive his car too, doesn’t he?”

“Get the fuck out, or I’ll call the cops.”

I smiled. “Call the cops, and I’ll show your sugar-daddy some video of you screwing my boyfriend.”

“You fucking bitch!” she said and she grabbed for me, reaching out to pull my hair. I got an arm straight out and grabbed her by the front of her dress, pulling hard on it. It tore down, letting her firm little boobies spring forth, her nipples pointing out like brown little bullets. She was wearing heels, and her eyes went wide as she lost her balance. She reached out and latched onto my blouse as she went down, and we fell together in a squirming wrestling heap.

I was bigger, and I managed to get on top and pin her down, my breasts resting on hers. She snarled and stared up at me, at my mercy as I held her wrists. She tried to push up with her hips to shake me off, and that’s when I felt the hard cock between her legs.

I answered her snarl with a grin, and I pressed my crotch down on her, feeling her hardness straining against me. I ground against her, rubbing that cock against my pussy lips through our clothes. The snarl stayed on her face, but her eyes clamped shut and she arched her back, grinding in response to my motions.

The bitch was ready for it, and to my surprise, so was I. I didn’t have any specific plan for what I would do when I was alone with her, but suddenly I knew that this was inevitable. I released one wrist and reached down between us, pulling up her dress and my skirt, and flicked aside her silky panties to release her girl-cock. I pulled my own panties to the side, and with her eyes still closed, she moved her hips to guide the head to my slick opening.

Her cock wasn’t big. It might not have been the smallest I’d taken, but it was definitely not a monster. I was used to getting fucked every night by Nathan’s big unit, and I was able to take her quickly inside. I started bucking up and down on her girl-cock with my pussy, and we were full-on fucking. I wasn’t even sure if she was doing it against her will until she reached up ripped open the front of my blouse, letting my breasts spill out on top of hers. She grabbed them with both hands and held on as I rode her, sliding her in and out of me until I felt the tingle begin.

The orgasm started in my pussy then spread out in waves as I fucked, bouncing my ass up and down on her, taking her hard cock as I shuddered and gasped. I opened my eyes long enough to see her biting her ruby red bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut as she came as well, her little cock jumping as she unleashed her lady load into my spasming pussy.

I collapsed on top of her as my climax subsided, and we lay together, panting in a mess of hair, makeup, juices and torn clothing.

After we cleaned up, she told me her name was Samantha, and if it meant so much she would stop seeing Nathan. I told her it didn’t matter now, because I was through with him.

“Take my number then,” she said with a slightly vicious, slightly teasing smile. “In case you get lonely.” Then she gave me a piece of cinnamon gum and a kiss on the lips, and sent me happily on my way.

___________________

Tia Zen Sin is an erotica writer, and everything else you’ve heard is a damn dirty lie. Find out more about her work at tiazensin.blogspot.com, and on twitter @tiazensin.

“Hold on tight,” Denzel said. His friend was sitting in front of him driving the motorcycle. Trey wrapped his arms around the man, pressed himself closer to him. Denzel was warm, even as the cold air cut into Trey’s cheek, blowing the other man’s rich masculine scent his way.

He wanted to wrap himself around the man since the first time he’d laid eyes on him. He’d desired Denzel and his lean body, his perfect abs, and his devious smile that went so well with the twinkle in his dark eyes. If it weren’t for Henry waiting for him at home…

“Go faster!” Trey shouted, hoping the thrill of the speed would chase those thoughts away. It’s the alcohol, he told himself.

The engine roared again as Denzel complied. Buildings, street lights,and neon signs flashed by them. Denzel gave every speed limit sign a big fat Fuck You, and Trey was loving it, feeling the adrenaline level rise higher, higher, until it was almost too much. It was moments like these that he lived for.

He was drunk on excitement when their ride came to an end. Denzel stopped the machine in front of an old apartment complex. “You can let go now,” he said.

Trey laughed. “What if I don’t want to?”

Denzel took off his helmet, shook out his medium length hair. “Stop teasing.” His voice had something sharp to it that made Trey let go and step off the bike.

“What’ll you do if I don’t?” he said, letting his hand run over the smooth blue metal of the motorcycle. He wasn’t sure why he was doing this, provoking the other man, when he knew he shouldn’t. Henry said it would be the death of him someday, always going further than he should, seeking the next rush.

Denzel got off the bike and locked eyes with him. Trey’s cock stirred in his pants under the intensity of the other man’s gaze. He swallowed and took his helmet off, put it aside, breaking eye-contact.

“Want to know what I’ll do?” Denzel said, voice low. “Why don’t you come in with me and find out?”

Trey looked at the apartment complex, noticing for the first time that he didn’t know where their ride had taken them. He was going to call this off, when the other man opened his mouth again.

“I dare you.”

Those words were his undoing. Defiantly, he glared back at Denzel. He backed up against the bike when the other man closed in on him. “I’m betting you,” Denzel said, eyes boring into him, “if you let me start, you won’t make me stop.”

Trey held his gaze. “I’ll take that bet.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth that Denzel grabbed his hand and dragged him into the house.

The apartment door closed, and Denzel pinned Trey against it with his hips. Trey inhaled sharply as the other man pressed into him, instantly speeding up his heart rate. “You can’t wait, huh?” he said, trying to be nonchalant.

Denzel leaned in to his ear, the tiny stubble on his cheek rubbed against the side of Trey’s face. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this as much as I do.” His voice came low, a deep rumble that resonated in Trey’s chest as teeth grazed his earlobe. Predator.

“I can’t?”

“No.” Denzel grabbed both of his hands, held them up over his head and finally claimed Trey’s mouth with his own, running his tongue across his lips. Feeling defiant, Trey kept his mouth closed, despite the strong urge to open up. He wanted to free his hands, but the other man held him in place easily, and when he brushed against his body trying to get free,it only made him hornier. Thoughts invaded his mind, of being held, fucked, dominated, used by that man. He recoiled at the images even as his cock strained against his pants.

He’d never known himself to be into that.

And yet, the strong hands on his wrists, Denzel’s firm body locking him in place, sent a strange sense of thrill coursing through him. He was a sucker for thrills. Involuntarily, he moaned and Denzel dipped his tongue inside. Trey’s eyes fluttered closed as the world became smaller around him, reduced to the sensation of the other man’s tongue against his. He shouldn’t be doing it, but it was so fucking good and his reservations slipped away.

Denzel broke the kiss far too soon. “You want this,” he repeated, his mouth so close to his ear that Trey almost believed it was his own mind telling him to let go, hand himself over to the other man. Trey kept his eyes closed, his mind was in overdrive. Denzel grabbed Trey’s hands in one of his, and used his free one to trace two fingers over Trey’s cheek to his jaw, before gripping it firmly. “Look at me,” he said sharply.

Trey complied, while he stared into Denzel’s dark eyes, the other man kissed him again. Trey opened his mouth immediately, hungrily. The way Denzel’s tongue lapped and teased his, pushing into his mouth and taking complete control, robbed him of every conscious thought. He forgot himself, lost, wanting, and needing more. Denzel pulled back suddenly, and Trey almost whined at the loss.

“You want me.”

Oh God Yes.

Denzel’s gaze was intense, lighting a fire inside of Trey. Desire shone in the other man’s eyes as they ran all over his body, finally locking with his. Denzel ran a thumb over Trey’s bottom lip, never breaking eye contact. “Say it.”

Trey knew if he did, Denzel would take him, own him for the night – and in the morning they would never talk of it again. His lips parted. “Fuck me.”

Denzel wasted no time in taking him up on the offer. Their bodies pressed close together. Trey’s mouth opened in silent gasps as Denzel’s thighs rubbed against the growing bulge in his pants. Denzel’s rough lips closed over his, shutting him up. A hand pulled up his shirt, raking fingers over his skin, touching, and twisting his nipples sharply. Trey almost bit down on the other man’s tongue as shivers chased down his spine. He needed more action, more friction…he needed more.

As if hearing his thoughts, Denzel let his large hand wander down to the bulge in Trey’s pants and groped his erection through the tightened fabric. Trey bucked his hips, unable to stop himself, not wanting to stop himself. The other man’s hardness pressing against his leg only heightened his excitement. It had been far too long since he’d last gotten laid.

Denzel looked down into his eyes. “Ready for some cock?”

Trey took a deep breath, desire washing through him. Denzel smelled of oil and male sweat and he found the mix intoxicating. “More than ready.”

Denzel made him turn around, pressing his face against the door. An image of his boyfriend crossed Trey’s mind, but then he thought of all he’d given up for the man, and all the big fat nothing he got in return, and he spread his legs. Denzel unbuckled Trey’s belt and pulled down his pants just far enough for two strong hands to grasp his naked butt cheeks. “Lookin’ good,” Denzel whispered, before biting down on Trey’s neck. Trey gasped, balled his hands into fists at the sudden pulse of need. His cock was fully erect and straining against the rough wood of the door. Denzel grabbed it, pumped once, twice and kissed the spot that he’d bitten. A shuddered breath left Trey and Denzel let go of his cock.

Trey couldn’t morn the loss before something prodded against his anus, pushed inside and spread him open. He moaned, letting his forehead fall against the door. Denzel had started with two fingers and it burned, but it burned so good.

“Didn’t know you could be such a slut,” Denzel said.

“Shut up.”

Denzel grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. “Mhm…” His murmur was a hot stream of air down Trey’s neck. “Think you can tell me what to do?” Denzel yanked on his hair, scissored the fingers inside of him and a sharp sensation shot through Trey, made his cock twitch. A third finger entered him and Trey moved against Denzel, away from him, caught between pain and pleasure and craving both. He had never felt anything like this before.

The fingers left him and then Denzel let go of his hair, too. Trey took a deep breath and supported himself against the door with his arms. The sound of a zipper let him know what was to come. He braced himself, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment Denzel thrust his thick hot cock into him. A strangled moan fell from his lips at the powerful sparks of pleasure that ripped through his body as Denzel buried himself deep inside of him.

The other man started to move before Trey could get too comfortable, hips slamming against his ass with smacking sounds that almost drowned out both their grunts and moans. Almost.

“Harder,” Trey demanded. His fingernails scratched against the wood, searching in vain for something to hold onto as his body trembled with the mind-wrecking new sensations. Denzel’s fingers dug into his hips, held him close as his hard cock pounded into him relentlessly. His breathing was loud and heavy in his ears.

Trey rested his head on one arm, led his free hand to his own throbbing cock – only to have it slapped away by Denzel.

“You come when I make you.” The voice was a low growl – and the words almost enough to make him come right there.

“Then make me.”

Denzel’s hand squeezed around his cock, gave him a long, hard stroke.

“More.” Trey panted, growing closer. He was at the point of no return when the other man complied, stroking him, kept fucking him – and finally made him tumble over the edge. He came hard, almost screaming, as the other man’s cum sprayed warmly against his insides.

Denzel held his shuddering body, milked him dry, and then whispered this into his ear: “You lost the bet. That should give you something to think about.” With that he let go.

Trey kept standing against the door, trying to find himself again in the buzzing mess of his mind. As the rush ebbed away and he stood with traces of cum running down his still naked ass cheeks, he thought that he had never felt so dirty in his life.

More troubling than that, though, was the certainty that he’d do it again.

____________________

If you would like to hear more about this couple and be informed about other hot stories by A. J. Phoenix, find her on Twitter @chaoskaze.

The first time I met Emery I didn’t know what to expect. She was different. Not in a bad way, but she turned heads. She wore her black hair shoulder length and parted it on the left, while the right side of her skull was shaved close to her scalp. Piercings covered her face, from the bull ring in her nose, to the double paired studs in her bottom lip, and the amount of ink on her arms rivaled that of full length novels. But what was most peculiar about Emery was not her rough edged exterior, or crystal-blue eyes. What was different about Emery, was that the girl loved to scream. Loved to be hurt.

“Now cut me.”

There was something about the euphoric escape of tension from her lungs, and when she’d belt it out there in the middle of the woods, it was like a banshee wailing for her lost child. Her screams sounded like freshly shattered glass and the way she dug her nails into the ground reminded me of someone buried alive in a coffin, scratching at the wood to get out. Except in Emery’s case, she just wanted to go deeper.

“Harder, Nathan. Harder.”

I’d never fucked a girl like Emery before. Something about the sense of imminent death turned her on. Most girls I’d been with wanted it soft and easy, a little change up here or there, but always ending in the missionary position. But not her. She wanted it rough and she wanted it to hurt. Hell, the girl could only cum when my hands were wrapped around her throat. She’d even get this wicked grin on her face when I pushed my thumbs into the soft spot right above her clavicle and make her choke. I’ve heard there’s something about getting off during asphyxiation but I never believed it until I watched those arctic eyes widen and roll back as she came to me. It was like a waterfall gushed out of her, and I didn’t hesitate to drink her up.

“My turn.”

She yanked me out of the car that night, and pulled me into the cemetery across the street. Already half naked, her porcelain skin glowed in the moonlight, while her tits bounced like two flesh balloons. I remember pulling her back, telling her that we’d get caught, and she laughed like a woman possessed as she pulled out a ring of keys from her back pocket. She dangled them in front of me, swinging them like a hypnotist ready to seduce.

“Not if your father owns the graveyard.”

Pinned against a headstone she bit at my ears, my lips, my neck. I ran my hands up her back, grabbing her hair as I traced the outline of her lips with my tongue. She tasted like cigarettes and cherry lip gloss. I wanted more of her, but I knew better than to ask. Emery wasn’t the type of girl that liked being told what to do. I knew I’d get her when she was ready, and not a second before. She sat in my lap and moved one of her hands down my pants.

“Tell me I’m yours.”

I swallowed hard as I looked into her piercing blues. I closed my eyes and focused on her hand on my dick. She was cold, her touch like one of heaven’s fallen angels with clipped wings, a broken halo, and eyes that looked like hell’s frozen fires. I smiled when I said, “You’re mine,” knowing that wasn’t what she wanted. Emery liked games, as long as she was in charge, and when her hands came at my neck, I knew it was time to play.

“Say it right.”

With her hands at my throat, I grabbed at her waist and cupped her ass. She moaned and lightened her grasp as I lifted up her skirt and slid down her lace thong. I dipped two fingers into her wet, velvet center and felt her melt in my hand. Her hands slid down my neck and rested on my chest as she scrunched up my shirt with her fists and screamed that glass breaking pitch I loved so much. I felt myself grow harder as I scraped at the length of my zipper. With my free hand, I unzipped my jeans, and did my best to slide them down. I told Emery to sit, and she opened herself up like a flower as I moved inside her.

“Say it, Nathan.”

I grabbed her neck as I pushed inside of her. Easy at first, but then with the strength and hurt that I knew she liked. I listened to her gasp and when her breath caught in her throat, I pushed even harder. Her eyes went from a pale to a stabbing blue as a mix of pleasure and pain washed over her face. I loved the way the light of the stars bounced off her piercings like a white beam against the gloss of the headstone. She reminded me of a disco ball with the way her face lit up but when she opened her mouth to scream, I slapped my hand over her mouth before she could utter even the smallest of sounds. Two could play at this game.

“No. You say it,” I said.

She grabbed at my hands, and I loosened one of them so I could hear her. She sucked in bouts of air and tried to talk, but with my other hand now rubbing her clit as I stroked her inside and out, all that came out were sighs and muffled whispers lost in the night air. “I said say it,” as I slapped at her cunt and rubbed it till she screamed out. “Say it so I can hear it.”

“Ah, Nathan,” she said.

I picked her up and threw her on the ground, drilling her till her screams woke the crows and shook the bodies in the graves. Out in the woods, with no one for miles away, her voice reverberated off the trees and stones, bouncing back and forth in echoes that could have woken the dead

“I’m yours,” she said.

I felt her come in hot waves as I let go and rode the tide with her. She shook as she finished, her nails grabbing at my skin like black tipped fish hooks in my back. I cringed from the pain, but the hurt felt good as I came inside her, my seed mixing with the sweetest nectar in the forest. I pulled out to adjust myself, and looked at my pierced goddess sprawled out on the graveyard floor.

Poor Mr. Haverson’s headstone was tilted to the side and resting at an odd angle. But the man couldn’t complain too much. Dead or not, the man had one hell of a view.

___________________

Read other stories by this author here.

Evelyn Moore is a dark, erotica writer who likes to heat things up with whips and chains. Her work has been showcased in various magazines such as Every Night Erotica, Clean Sheets Magazine, and Oysters and Chocolate. She is currently working on an erotic vampire novella, and thinks that all girls look best when dressed in black and ready to kill. For more from Evelyn visit here: http://joinmeinthemadhouse.blogspot.com/.

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But they hadn’t driven all the way to the Kawarthas for the scenery.

“Bathroom’s this way,” Michelle said, setting the latch-key down on the hall table.

Sterling followed her up the stairs. “In my day, a cabin was a shack. Just look at my parents’ old summer escape.”

“Yeah, one big room with a curtain separating the sleeping area from the kitchen.”

“And back when my grandparents bought it, all those cabins up there were the same way. They were the first black…”

“I know, I know,” Michelle smirked. “First black family on the whole lake.”

“I guess you’ve heard all my stories now,” Sterling sighed, throwing his arms around her. From behind, he grabbed her breasts and have them a good squeeze.

“About a million times, I’d say.”

Releasing her tits, he gave her a smack on the ass to lead on. “Luxury is overkill. We’ve got luxuries in the city.”

When Michelle opened the door to the master bedroom, Sterling’s jaw dropped. Floor to ceiling windows. There was hardly anywhere you could look without seeing the vast lake with its reflected trees like an upside-down Group of Seven painting.

“What was that you were saying?” Michelle teased, leading him into the lavish bathroom. “Luxury is overkill?”

The space was large. Large enough to fit the regular fixtures, plus a whirlpool tub, plus the most spectacular shower he’d ever laid eyes on. The shower door was glass. The floor and two of the four walls were made entirely of river rock. The remaining wall opposite the door was even more glass, looking out at the lake. The glass was frosted up to shoulder level so lonely boaters out on the water wouldn’t get too excited each time you took a shower.

Sterling counted five heads in total. The one hanging from the ceiling looked big enough to bathe an elephant. The other four were mounted on the river rock, two on each wall, and each of those fixtures had openings for four jets spraying in different directions.

Michelle was already down to her black lace skivvies when he looked over at her in amazement. Stepping through the glass shower door, she unhooked her bra and walked out of her panties. Naked and eager, she turned the sleek stainless steel handle to initiate a downpour. When she pressed the button next to it, all sixteen jets gushed with warm water. The steam was building up around the edges of the glass door already.

“What are you waiting for, mister?” she called, motioning her hand for him to join her.

It struck him that Michelle had never seemed more elated than she did in that moment. That would soon change. Tearing off every bit of clothing, he jumped into the shower. The hard rocks felt soft against his heels. The warm water and Michelle’s willing hands massaged his skin. Her lips were full, hot, ready to open up to him as she sank to her knees on the riverbed floor.

Jet streams pelted his chest from every direction as a rain shower fell on him from above. Michelle grasped his solid thighs. Her fingernails dug into his flesh. She took his cock in her mouth, sputtering and spewing the water that coursed down his body from that mega-shower head on high. As incredible as it felt to have her lips close around his cockhead, to thrust slowly in her mouth, to pick up the pace and drive his cock past that warm wet tongue in measured beats, he didn’t want her drowning down there.

“Get up, girl,” he growled, grabbing under her arms to lift her up and away from his cock. She ravaged him with kisses, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

Sterling was a strong man. He had strong arms and strong thighs, and found no trouble keeping her suspended in mid-air. His thirsty cock still knew where to find her. Despite the water streaming from walls and ceiling, it knew the wettest place of all was between her legs. Better still, it knew how to get there. It surged forward, storming her cunt.

“Holy Christ!” she cried into his ear. She clung tight to his neck like she was afraid he’d let her fall.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She gasped when he leaned her away from him, and dug her nails into his flesh. He flinched at the sensation, but held her safe as ever. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, holding her at arm’s length. Her ankles were entwined behind his back. “I won’t let you fall, Michelle. Do you trust me?”

She seemed to search his eyes for the answer to his own question. “You know I do.”

“Good. Then relax, sugar. Just relax.”

Her eyes focused squarely on him, putty in his arms. “I’m relaxed, baby. I’m ready.”

Holding her close, cock to cunt, he thrust his hips and she moaned. With her gentle rocking motion, Sterling increased his. Her cunt enveloped him, her every movement milked his cock and encouraged him to pump. He was so deep she cried out in that unique exclamation of pleasure that says, Don’t you dare stop now!

He thrust upwards, bending his knees and leaping cock-first into her pussy. Her body bounced away from him, her ass landing against his muscular thighs with a wet smack. Water splashed everywhere—to the sides, across their chests, even leapt up into their mouths. Their sex reminded Sterling of an amusement park ride. It was thrilling almost to the point of being frightening, but always retained a touch of the absurd.

Water from their slapping middles jumped up to land in his eye, and suddenly he realized how worn out his arms had become. Obeying the command of his body, he said, “Time to put you down.” It wasn’t worth the risk of dropping her.

“Oh,” Michelle whined as her feet touched rock bottom. “Already?”

“Now who’s the beggar?” Sterling laughed, turning her whole body around. With her palms flat against the stone wall, Michelle was in perfect position for a thorough police search. Her man didn’t have to search to find what he was looking for. Reaching around her body, he gave her tits a good squeeze.

“What’s next?” she pleaded.

“This,” he replied, coming at her from behind. His cock had no trouble finding the wetness of her cunt. It was right down there between the soft cheeks of her ass. Follow that valley until it gets good and wet, and you’re right there. Right there.

“Right there!” she grunted, thrusting back against his hips. “Yeah, you got it baby. Right there. That’s the spot!” Her accolades would have rung out across the lake without those great windows in the way.

She inched closer to the wall, pressing her forearms against the rocks. When she leaned her forehead against her hands, Sterling took her by the hips. He moved forward with her as she stood up high on her tiptoes, poised for deep penetration. Holding tight to her hips, he gave her what she wanted. He gave it to her over and over again, and she sighed and panted and growled all the while.

“Get a load of this!” Michelle exclaimed, reaching for the shower head to the right. “I never realized it was a handheld.”

Grasping the stainless steel head, she pulled it from its cradle. Sterling promptly took it from her hand. When he held the four-jet wonder against her clit she cooed and giggled, writhing against the currents. “Oh, that is so good. Is that good for you, baby?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” he whispered in her ear.

Pounding Michelle’s pussy as he sprayed her clit, Sterling grunted and moaned. As he moved the shower head in circles around her lips and thighs, the fine flows sprayed his balls as well. The gushing warmth of the water felt incredible, and he knew he would come all the faster for it. Her body rebounded and recoiled and he thrust in her. The intensity surged, energy building in the muscles of his legs and thighs.

“Oh, baby…” Michelle cried as he let the gushing water from the jets tumble over her clit. “Mmm-mmm-mmm!”

Her arousal inspired his. Though she panted and moaned and begged for mercy, the water kept right on coursing at them from all directions. When an errant jet of soft, warm water caressed his balls, he just couldn’t hold back. “Oh yeah, babygirl, you do me so good, so good, so good!” He squeezed his woman’s tits as he came inside her.

For a brief moment, he couldn’t move a muscle. He was stuck in that instant of orgasmic seizure, hoping he’d never escape. His cock throbbed in her hot, wet pussy as she turned to kiss his shoulder. He found he could move after all, but only to kiss her neck.

Even after sliding the hand-held back into its slot, they basked in the warm water coursing over and down and across their bodies. Even after they’d turned off the multiple heads and jets, they held their pose in the stone shower until the steam died down enough that they could look out across the lake.

“What did I tell you?” Michelle asked, tracing her fingertips across his forearm. “This is some shower.”

“It’s a beauty,” he agreed. “I wonder how much it would cost to install one of these babies at home, parts and labour.”

Stepping out to grab a pair of towels, she replied, “More than you have at your disposal, my good man.”

“I am good, aren’t I?” he said with a self-satisfied grin. As he watched her run plush terrycloth all over her skin, he asked her to dry him off too. “I got you all nice and wet, now you get me all nice and dry.”

“Come on,” she laughed in response. “Let’s get dressed and get out of here before somebody thinks we’re breaking and entering.”

Jumping out of the shower stall and into his clothes, he asked, “Well, aren’t we?”

She turned to him with an incredulous expression on her face, and then smiled. “Honey, did you see me break anything to get in here? I used the key.”

“Girl, we are still trespassers, key or no key,” he replied as they opened the bedroom door. They stepped out into the hallway and froze in their tracks under the surprised stares of four wide eyes.

A woman with crow’s feet and hot pink highlights walked fearlessly toward them. Observing Michelle’s dripping-wet hair, she said to her companion, “Looks like these young people had the same idea we did.”

“You must be Sarah,” Sterling said, amazed by her calm reaction.

The woman put her hand to her heart, stepping closer. “No, but thank you for the compliment. Some people say we could be sisters, but…”

“Sterling, these are Sarah’s parents,” Michelle said. “Nice to see you again.”

“Always a pleasure, Michelle,” Sarah’s dad said, inching toward Sterling with an extended hand.

Sterling had never shaken hands with a biker dude before, but there was a first time for everything. “Good to meet you.”

“I have to apologize,” Michelle interrupted. “I had no idea you two were staying here while Sarah was away.”

The parents laughed, gazing fondly at one another. “Well, Sarah doesn’t know either. I’m sure she wouldn’t be too happy with us if she found out. About as happy as she’d be knowing her friends were sneaking in to use her shower.”

The two couples stood in the hallway considering each other. There was no need for animosity among fellow trespassers. With an infectious smile, Michelle touched the woman’s arm. “It’ll be our little secret.”

____________________

Giselle is a favorite author here on Every Night Erotica, read more of her sexy stories.

Eroticist Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, contributor to more than 50 short story anthologies, and author of dozens of electronic and print books, including Anonymous, Ondine, and My Mistress’ Thighs. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

For more information on Giselle and her work, visit her website at www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/erotica or visit her Donuts and Desires blog at www.donutsdesires.blogspot.com.

Opening the door, she peaked down the hall to the stairwell just in time to see Dan “from 2 doors down” exiting the hall. Tonight he was wearing purple and black shorts with a matching basketball jersey – An ensemble that she found complemented his coarse black hair and athletic physique rather well. His shift work kept her from seeing him often, but they’d flirted at the mailboxes a couple times. She decided to take part in this evening’s fire drill.

Closing her door, she turned on her bedroom light, evaluating the reflection in her dresser mirror. She removed her oversized T-shirt, revealing lacy bikini panties, then put on her favourite beige sundress. She quickly brushed through her flowing red pillow hair before leaving her condo.

Dan sat on the curb of the parking lot, among other awakened residents as the fire truck arrived. He was studying the grill of the truck when Alison crossed the headlights. He noticed how the opaque sundress showcased the shapely legs and backside before realizing they belonged to his neighbour.

“Hey Alison. Probably another false alarm from humidity?” he asked. Red emergency lights washed his tan complexion as he struggled to make appropriate eye contact.

“Yeah, I think so Dan.” She smiled as she noticed his distraction from her sundress. “It’s the same flashing light on the lobby panel as last week.”

They made more small talk for a few minutes before a fireman came from the building and informally announced that it was a false alarm.

“Guess that’s our excitement for tonight.” Dan said.

“I suppose.” Alison agreed. They made their way to the stairwell door then Alison led Dan up the three flights without speaking. He returned his attention to her behind. He was now close enough to notice the texture of her lacy panties beneath the fabric of her dress. They reached their floor.

“Well, have a nice night.” Dan offered as they came to his door.

Alison looked down the hall to her door, then at the floor between them. “Would you like a nightcap? Maybe a wine spritzer? It’s a good summer drink. ”

Dan smiled. “OK. Actually, that sounds good.”

Alison smiled then turned, leading him down the hall to her place. They entered her dark condo without turning on a light, navigating by the glow of the streetlights through the vertical blinds. She led him to the kitchen where she opened the icebox door and produced an open magnum of chardonnay and soda water. Free-pouring generous amounts of wine into large tumblers, she topped them with soda and opened the freezer door, producing frozen green grapes.

“Instead of ice.” she told him as he watched with fascination. She put a handful of grapes in each tumbler and handed them to him. “Could you take these to the coffee table?”

“Sure.” As he took the drinks into the living area, Alison replaced the bottles in the refrigerator, and glancing through the open concept condo to make sure Dan wasn’t watching, quickly removed her panties and tucked them into the salad crisper.

Dan took a seat on the sectional sofa in time to watch her open the vertical blinds completely and draw them to the side, allowing a streetlight mere feet from the window to provide more illumination. He watched Alison cross the window, once again noticing the silhouette of her legs against the sundress; backlit like this, it seemed like nothing more than cheesecloth. She remained standing for a moment to arrange throw pillows along the back of the sofa. Dan took the opportunity to glance at the shadows of her dress where her lovely legs met and noticed more detail than panties would allow.

“Cheers.” She took a glass from him. She sat with their knees touching. “To you” he said. She caught their reflection in the dark screen of the TV across the coffee table. They clinked tumblers and drank. “When it’s this hot, I feel cooler with no lights on,” she said.

“Yeah, I guess we can manage with the streetlights.”

“I was thinking it’s more like moonlight.” She sipped.

“In that case… I might have to kiss you, you know.”

“Dan, we’re alone on my couch at quarter to two in the morning. I just served you a drink in the dark. You know, it would serve me right.”

He leaned over and put his lips to hers. She felt his breath on her cheek as his tongue parted her lips. He set his glass on the coffee table. He slowly caressed her small but firm breast through her luxurious red hair, soaking the dress material with cool condensation from his drink. She sighed and shifted her bottom on the hot upholstery below her. She met his tongue with hers, probing his mouth as her nipples hardened.

She pulled her head away and put her drink on the table. Looking him in the eye, she put fingers of both hands in the waistband of his shorts. As she tugged them, he raised his hips allowing the shorts to be lowered to his knees. She lowered her eyes to his upright member. She then scooped a few frozen grapes out of her drink with one hand and took Dan’s penis in the other. Holding the grapes palm up, she carefully bent it down till it touched the cold fruit. He shuddered with excitement and just a little discomfort. She smiled devilishly and slowly squeezed the grapes and his cock with both hands, till juice trickled down the shaft.

Dan stood up breathing deeply, and took Alison by the shoulders, standing her up as well. She stood with her face inches from his as he bunched up her dress around her waist and then raised it over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She slipped his jersey over his head as he stepped out of his shorts.

She sat back down, taking his hand and pulling him to her. She leaned back and shifted her ass so her legs were on the sofa as he kissed her neck. He positioned his knees between hers, one by one as a few cool drops of grape juice tickled her inner thigh. She lowered her hand to his hardness, pausing to rub it against herself before pressing his lower back with her other hand.

Dan slid his hands under Alison, savouring the feel of her firm round ass on his palms. He tongued her earlobe as she guided him to enter her fully. He withdrew almost entirely, slowly thrusting again and again till he found their rhythm.

Alison breathed urgently and opened her eyes wide as his cock filled her. Her eyes had grown quite accustomed to the low light in her condo now, and she noticed their movement in the reflection of the dark TV. As Dan plunged into her more forcefully as their need grew, she stared at the reflection of his ass and shaved balls in the TV screen, rising and falling between her knees now bent and now straight, toes pointed to the ceiling. She watched her hands lower to his buttocks and clutch them. She raised her hips to the arc of their passion, feeling her orgasm soar and flush her face as she stared at the image of their fucking.

Dan began thrusting more quickly and she knew his climax was near. Panting, she slid her middle finger between his cheeks and lowered her finger nearly to his scrotum. As Dan reached his threshold, Alison caressed him with her finger, pressing into him, feeling contractions of his loins on the pad of her finger and pulsations of his cock deep inside her. He came deliciously into her, biting her earlobe, leaving a mark he’d notice the next morning over coffee. Their breathing slowly returned to normal. They shared thoughts after sharing flesh, before drifting off to sleep entangled in each other’s limbs.

They’d wake later and make more very sweet memories before sunrise, but Alison always thought the most unusual mental association she took from that evening involved a fire alarm… After that night, hearing one aroused her.

____________________

Read Kris’ other sexy stories published on Every Night Erotica here.

And after a month of having no arms to collapse into at night, she also felt horny as a rutting elk.

Horny enough to wonder what the UPS was hiding under his brown uniform. Horny enough to spend her evenings in a daze, awaiting the next chapter in her life. Maybe he’d have dark hair that spilled over his forehead like a visor. Maybe he’d be tall and broad-shouldered, or short with the wiry frame of a middleweight boxer. Maybe his voice would scrape the lower registers before soaring into the night. He could be blond, thin, redheaded or heavy. He could be whatever he needed to be to send a shiver up all the right places.

But strong, full lips were nonnegotiable. She craved those lips on the base of her neck, nibbling, nuzzling, pecking away and distracting her from the unfinished life of a brand new divorcee. Meaty hands would be nice too. A flat chest, a strong jaw.

But where would she find this package?

It wasn’t Ron, the ice salesman (no personality and smelled like bacon). Vincent looked a decade older than his profile picture. And Jeffery was wrong in every way. So were Keith, Ezra and Tim. Online dating was a waste of time, the wrong way to go about scratching this itch.

Then she met the new neighbor and everything snapped into focus.

He was strolling from the moving van to his new home next door, thick mitts wrapped around a love seat. She found herself gasping, caught for an awkward second in his predatory gaze. He was all shoulders and torso and frat boy smile. A well-tanned break from her lonely routine; an answered prayer in a muscle shirt and half-shorts.

He came over to introduce himself. And the first five minutes were a blur. Something about his name being Darin and being new to the Minneapolis area and he was from Des Moines or maybe it was Denver. Who could concentrate with her needs screaming from the deepest pocket of her loins like that? Those lips, those sturdy shoulders, that voice.

“So I’ll be back later. Would seven be cool? he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“For that drink. Remember? You invited me for a drink to welcome me into the neighborhood.”

“Right, yes! I did.” She did. But where did she find the verve to flirt with this handsome stranger? It was as if she were guided by somebody else’s spirit. Somebody more adventurous than she could ever be.

“So… seven? Would that be cool?”

“Seven would be perfect,” she growled, suddenly a cougar.

What has happened to me? she wondered, watching his backside ripple back to the moving van. But she wasn’t complaining.

***

There was too much to clean before seven. Too many remnants of the life she longed to forget: a dusty towel discarded behind the toilet; tennis shoes Steve was too cheap to throw away. And the T-shirt.

It was a faded white shirt once emblazoned with the name and logo of some heavy metal band nobody today would ever admit to having liked. It was tattered now, nearly shredded. And for a head-spinning second it reminded Sophie that her union with Steve wasn’t a nineteen year nightmare after all.

He was wearing it that night. But only for a few hours. It was sweltering outside – and inside as well, because this young couple was still drowning in student loan debt. No air-conditioner. Only a rusted old fan roaring away in the corner of their love nest’s attic.

He didn’t care that she was puddled in sweat, that her hair tumbled into a bright orange mess over her sunburned shoulders. He had to have her. And in those days that meant roping himself around her, his strong arms pinning her body into a long loopy noodle. Her legs weakening as he coated her neck and cheek and forehead with wet kisses that made the room spin out of focus…

“It’s too hot, honey,” she begged. But she didn’t mean it.

Her arms curled back and guided his lips – so firm, so determined – to just the right places. He unwrapped her like a long-neglected birthday present. And she could have swallowed him whole. They tumbled into a knot, fell to the floor and landed in each other’s embrace. It sometimes seemed the embrace never ended. She could still feel those hands lost in her hair…

But the doorbell reminded her that he was long gone. So she answered it and welcomed in the first page of her life’s next chapter.

It was Darin, of course. She had hoped for a second that Steve had come back for his T-shirt. But no.

“Hello, neighbor!” he said.

“Take off your shirt,” She ordered. She was never any good at small talk. And who needed it now. There was no mystery behind his presence there; no reason to convince themselves that this was just a friendly chat between neighbors.

And Darin was just there to help her forget anyway. Forget Steve, forget those lost nineteen years, forget the loneliness that jabbed at her insides. He was there to be a distraction. And with those abs that rippled into a flawless torso, he was very good at his job.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He moved closer, grabbed her.

But something happened. Those hands on her hips become somebody else’s. His limbs, his face, even the scent rising from his skin soon followed. This alluring stranger was fading, surrendering to a ghost Sophie thought she’d had enough of.

And Sophie welcomed him with a kiss that nearly left his lips without skin. She was clawing at his clothes, scraping away at the outer shell, seeking the Steve underneath.

Several sloppy, wet seconds later, she found him. Just in time to be bent over the kitchen counter. With his hands busy holding her breasts in place he raised her skirt and lowered her panties with his teeth. A tricky move, but well executed.

Then he rose and leaned into, his cock stretched to full bloom. She was tense, too tight. But he was determined. He took another try, then a third. Access denied. So he dropped to his knees, eased the doorway with his kisses and licks.
She quivered, lost her balance. A sharp inhale escaped. Everything was spinning into a blur. Too fast, too crazy.

Just like Steve. His slurps too noisy, his nibbles too hard. But she forgave him, finding the boy scout beneath this demon too sweet to ignore. And that mischievous tongue slithering off to sensitive regions adding spice to this sensuous stew. Just like Steve.

She was wet now, ready. Nails scraping into the counter, teeth clenched into a jack-o-lantern’s grin. He dove inside, gently. He picked up the rhythm, yanking back her hair and holding her hips steady. This was what she needed. This was what she missed most. A tingle found her spine and floated upward. So intense it tugged back on her eyebrows and glued her lips shut.

Then came a slapping, his hips crashing into hers. Other sounds intruded: the table’s arrhythmic clack, his grunts, her pleading, their breath climbing together, suddenly in sync.

More slapping urged her into a place she’d forgotten about. That landing into oblivion, that perfect collision with sweetness. That awful ache finally soothed.
She eased back into him, angling her hips, lowering her head. There it was.

And there it stayed. For hours, maybe days. Or so it felt. But really it was seventeen seconds of bliss. Seventeen seconds of their souls twisting together, knotting themselves into a tortured, sweaty, limb-stretching mess on the kitchen floor. He laid there, eased himself between her shaking legs and savored the steam they’d created.

There was more small talk while dressing and half-sincere promises to “do this again sometime.” But mostly there was silence. And an awkward goodbye.

Sophie smiled to herself as the screen door slammed shut. The evening was a reckless dip into a pool always deemed too dangerous. But she kind of liked inhabiting somebody else’s soul for a few hours. It was just what she needed: a vacation away from the good girl’s life. She climbed to her feet, found the T-shirt on the living room floor and threw it away. No need for the past anymore. Not with a future this alive with glorious madness.

_____________________

Donnie Magazino is the pen name of crime fiction writer Copper Smith, which the is pen name of screenwriter David Copper. He gets dizzy just thinking about who he actually is. But he’s pretty sure he lives in Minneapolis and plays the mandolin.

He’s currently writing a serialized novel of lurid pulp called Kitten in the Crosshairs. To read more from Donnie go here: http://www.jukepopserials.com/home/read/26.