Man Swappers (27 page)

“C’mon, Porsha, baby...”

“It’s Passion,” I correct, parting my legs. “You want Passion to wrap this wet pussy around your dick?”

He squeezes his dick, rapidly strokes it, then stops. “Hell yeah. This hard-ass dick needs that shit.”

“Oh, yeah? How bad does that dick want it, baby?”

“Bad,” he says, spitting in his hand, then jacking his dick. He twirls his hand over its thick-mushroom head. “Real bad, baby... mmmm...you have no idea how bad I want you...”

I pull open my slippery hole. “Is this what you want?”

“Yeah, baby,” he says in a throaty whisper. He bites down on his bottom lip.

I slide my middle finger in. And fuck myself. I let out a low moan. “Ooooh...you want this pussy?”

He leans back on his right forearm, stoking his dick with his left hand. “Stop fuckin’ with me, baby. You know I do. Let me eat that sweet pussy, then make love to it...”

I nut on my finger, keeping my eyes locked on Emerson’s hard, heavy dick. I slide another finger in, scoop my pussy cream out, then walk over to him and feed him my juices. He takes both of my fingers into his mouth, slowly sucks, then licks.

He reaches for me, but I back away, twirling slowly to the music. I dip down low, slowly pop my hips, then lean forward and shimmy my way toward him. He reaches for me again. I plant a heeled foot up on the bed between his legs and gyrate my hips, allow him to run his hands up my silky thighs. He slinks his
hand up toward my ass, nuzzles his face between my thighs, inhaling my sweet musky scent. My pussy is wet. I allow him to kiss it, lick it, then push him backward on the bed, stepping out of his grasp.

“Why you fuckin’ wit’ me, girl?”

I stifle a smile as I slip down the straps of my negligee, then sliding it down my body. Emerson watches intently; his lips curl into a grin.

When Trey Songz’s “Red Lipstick” starts to play, I reach for him. “Dance with me,” I say, grabbing him by the wrists. He gives me a confused look. I repeat myself, pulling him up. His rigid cock greets me as he steps into me, wrapping me in his arms. I move to the music and he follows my lead. Hip to hip, skin to skin, our naked bodies blend and melt into one. I close my eyes and breathe him in, fill my nostrils with his strength and masculinity. His hands glide up and down my body, finally resting on my ass where they stay through most of the song. Panting, we both get lost in the music.

He squeezes my ass; grinds deep in me. “Damn, what the fuck you tryna do to me?”

“Sssh,” I say, looking up at him, pressing a finger to my lips. “Just dance.”

Three songs later, Emerson and I are still grinding in the middle of his floor, no words being said. His arms feel so good wrapped around me. His hard body feels good against mine. I don’t want this feeling to end.

Then don’t let it.

I have to.

Then what the fuck are you doing here?

Living in the moment.

Mmmph, if you say so. And exactly where are you going with this?

I don’t know.

Bitch, you can’t lead this man on.

I’m not. We’re simply two consenting adults enjoying each other’s company.

This man wants more from you. He has feelings for you. He’s a good man.

I know he is.

Then what the fuck do you want from him?

I don’t know.

What are your feelings toward him?

I don’t know...

I glance up at Emerson; he’s gazing at me. Catching me off-guard, his mouth opens and he’s kissing me, loving me with his mouth—thick, luscious lips pressing against mine, pulling in my bottom lip. I’m scrambling for footing before I slip and fall into his web; his tongue weaving its way deep into my mouth. Slowly, without much resistance, I’ve become entangled in a maze of passion.

“Why are we still dancing?” he finally asks, coming up for air.

My breath catches in my throat. “Because it feels good.” He asks if this is what I want to do all night; stand here, grinding and teasing him. He presses his dick into me for emphasis.

“No,” I gasp.

“Good,” he says, scooping me up in his arms, then laying me down on the bed. He kisses my stomach, then trails his kisses up to my breasts, my nipples, then back down to my navel. “I’m gonna make love to you tonight.”

I flash him a breathless smile, spreading open my legs as he rolls on a condom. He glides his dick back and forth over my slit, slaps it up against my clit, then slides into me. I grab him by the ass. Pull him in deep, inviting him into a night of passion.

Like a hot knife, his rhythmic thrusts slice into the center of my pussy, melting my sugary walls. And, before long, I’m coating every inch of his cock with a hot, sticky paste. He reaches a hand underneath me, strokes my titties, then runs his fingers down my body toward the front of my pussy. He seeks my clit, rubbing it with two fingertips. His circling fingers and the stroking of his dick morphs my swelling river into a roaring ocean of hot, foamy waves of orgasms, each wave crashing against my inner walls and splashing up against his dick. I’m drowning him in my wetness. I clutch his shaft, milk the length of him with each stroke, sending him into trembling moans of candy-coated joy.

“Ohhh, shit...aaah...oh Passion...aaah, fuck, baby...Your pussy’s so fuckin’ good.”

“Is it as good as my sisters’?” I ask him this, knowing I’m putting him on the spot. The truth is I already know the answer: all three of us have good pussy. Damn good pussy. I only want to see how he responds.

He grunts, slows his thrusts. “Your pussy is better.” He looks me in the eyes when he says this. He cups my ass, pulls me in, burying his dick deep. “Oh, shit...much better.”

“Lose your dick in me,” I whisper to him, gliding my fingertips along his spine, until my hands rests on his firm ass. I squeeze his cheeks, pulling him deeper into me. I look in his piercing brown eyes; connect with his troubled soul. Tonight, whatever his issues might be, they don’t exist; they don’t matter.

As he moves his body, I move mine. Our hands, our bodies, our lips, our tongues are dancing to the same music. Our grunts and moans are in beat to our rhythm.

“Fuck me...” I whisper. Squeezing my ass in his hands, he pounds his dick into my warm, eager cunt. I moan as he plunges his way in, moving slowly at first, then faster.

I glance up at the mirror-covered ceiling at our lusty liaison. I smile at the sweaty reflection of his muscled back, my legs wrapped around his waist, as I greedily meet his thrusts.

His breathing becomes ragged. I grab his dick; clench my muscles around it. Urge him to release his seed and unload deep in me.

Our bodies intertwine. Our lips lock and dance as we thrust and crash into each other; hips grinding and bucking. Sweat dripping. He grunts and groans; fucks and sucks and holds onto me, hoping to stretch out the night for as long as he can. He’s a desperate, horny lover, needing, wanting our connection to go on forever. But the reality is, it can’t. And it won’t. Lord knows, I can’t let it.

Paris
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“Hi, Mom,” I say, answering my cell. “How was your trip to Vegas?”

“It was good. Of course, your Aunt Penny and Lucky almost got into it, again. The two of them are like oil and water. They really don’t mix. But other than that, it was great. We saw the Temptations perform and had the seafood buffet at Rios. That was really nice. The food was delicious. Then, of course, we saw the water show at the Bellagio. And one night we went to see some kind of sex show at that hotel New York, New York.”

“A sex show?” I asked surprised. “
You?
Were there naked bodies and people actually having sex?”

“Oh, heavens no,” she says, chuckling. “Now you know I wouldn’t be in for none of that nastiness. It wasn’t really a sex show. It was erotic.” I ask her what the name of it was. She says she can’t recall. Tells me it started with a Zee.

I smile, shaking my head. “Zumanity?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Whew, they were some kinda freaks up in there. I told Fanny I could see you, Persia and Porsha up there doing all that na—”

“Mom,” I interrupt before she can finish. “Don’t. I’m enjoying the conversation; let’s not spoil it.”

“Well, what did I do now?”

I catch myself from letting out an exasperated sigh. “Nothing, Mom; let’s move on. So what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

“I wanted to tell you that I love you. And that I thought about what you said the last time we spoke. And I want you to know that I heard you. And I’ve heard your father and your Aunt Penny.” She pauses. “I’m going to do better. Of course, Lucky and Fanny think I should be raising holy hell at how you girls treat me. They think it’s—”

“Mother,” I snap, feeling myself starting to get annoyed. “What’s wrong with you? You say something nice, then you turn around and piss all over it with craziness.”

“Paris, what in the world did I say that was so crazy? I’m simply telling you that I heard you. And that I’m going to do better. I want a relationship with my daughters. All three of you.”

I let out a sigh of relief.
There’s hope after all
. “Thank you. That’s all I want is for us to be able to get along and spend time together.”

“Me, too. So let’s put what has happened behind us.” I tell her I’d like that. “Let’s spend the day together, you and me.”

I frown. “What about Porsha and Persia? I thought you said you wanted to have a relationship with
all
three of us.”

“I do. I’m hoping to do something with each of you, separately.” I decide to stay optimistic, knowing she’ll have a better chance of dancing with the devil than she will at getting Persia to go anywhere alone with her. I tell her I’m sure they’d like that. Tell her I’d really like spending the day somewhere with her. I ask her what she’d like to do. “Let’s drive out to Woodbury Common,” she says. “I want a new pocketbook. And, hopefully, I can find a wedding gift for Pasha, too.” Although driving for an hour to a shopping outlet isn’t exactly what I’d hoped for, I see it as her way of extending an olive branch. So I graciously accept her offering.

“I’d like that. When do you want to go?” She tells me toward the end of next month. “Okay, that sounds good. I’m looking forward to it. Thanks, Mom.”

“For what?”

“For trying.”

“Well, despite what you girls think, I do love you. And I’m always going to be your mother. And I’m always going to have my opinions.”

I take a deep breath. “Mom—”

“But, I’m going to
try
to keep them to myself.”

I smile. “That’s all we ask,” I say as two customers walk into the boutique. “Mom, I have to go. Thanks for calling. Give Daddy a hug for me, and you enjoy the rest of your day.”

“I will. You enjoy yours as well.”

As soon as I hang up, the phone rings again. I answer on the third ring. “Paradise Boutique, how can I help you?”

“You can help me by going away with me,” the deep, baritone voice says.

I smile. “And why should I do that?”

He laughs. “’Cause I can’t stop thinkin’ ’bout ya sexy ass. You’ve become my love drug.”

I laugh as well. “Oh, okay, Raheem DeVaughn. What you gonna do now, sing?”

He keeps laughing. “Yo, if that’s what it’s gonna take to get a yes, then hell yeah.” He starts singing.

“Oh, nooooooo,” I say, laughing. “Please don’t.”

“Am I gonna get a yes?”

“Let me think about it.”

“Yo, you killin’ me, ma. You got me sprung.”

“Oh, please,” I say, laughing. “You don’t even know me. And you probably say that to all the girls.”

“Nah, I ain’t that dude. I keep shit a hunnid, ma. I don’t
know
you, know you, but what I know so far, I’m diggin’. And I wanna get to know you better. But, I tell you what. We can hold off on going away—for now, if you come chill wit’ me down in Atlantic City for the night.”

“I’m flattered,” I say, smiling. “But—”

“No ‘but’, ma. So wassup? Spend one day wit’ me, and let’s see what happens. If you ain’t feelin’ me after that...cool. We part ways and go on ’bout our business.”

“How ’bout you part my cunt lips with your tongue,” I hear myself saying, feeling a rush of heat searing through me as I replay our night together. Blood rushes to my clit. I close my eyes. Feel his fingers on the curve of my hips, pulling my pussy deeper into his mouth, burying his tongue in between my soft, sticky folds. I’m horny. And I want to fuck him again.

“I tell you what. Come lick my pussy.”

He laughs. “Yo, you wildin’, ma.”

“I’m not laughing,” I tell him low and sexy. “I don’t have on any panties.”

“Yo, don’t tease me, ma,” he says in a throaty whisper.

I smile. There is definitely a lot of sexual chemistry between the two of us. But more than that, I really am starting to like him. “I’m not. Does it sound like I’m teasing? I wanna feel your tongue. Don’t you wanna taste this pussy, again?”

“Hell, yeah I do. I wanna get all up in that shit. You got my dick hard as steel right now.”

I moan. “Mmmm...I like the sound of that. The store closes at six. Bring me that hard-ass dick, and that long tongue.”

“I’ll be there at five-fifty-nine.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I say before disconnecting.

Porsha
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I
’m naked standing in front of my mirror, staring at my reflection. Jaguar Wright’s “Do Your Worst” is playing on my Bose stereo. I sway a bit as I oil my body.
Do your worst...but damn it...make sure it’s your best...
I grab the remote from off the dresser and raise the volume. I part my thighs, massaging my clit. I work myself up to an orgasm, then stop when I feel myself on the brink of coming. I walk into the bathroom to retrieve my bottle of Wet, then squirt some all over my Luna Pleasure Beads. I slip the weighted balls into my pussy, then slide on a pair of black spandex shorts and a matching tank top. While I’m out getting my two-mile run on, I’ll be working my pussy muscles out as well. I love the feeling of those tiny vibrations rippling through my pussy as my feet hit the pavement. My walls milk these balls, trying to keep them from slipping out. Thirty minutes a day and this pussy stays extra tight.