Man Swappers (38 page)

“Love you back,” I say before she hangs up.

I burst out laughing. “Ooooh, she’s hot with you right about now.”

Paris shrugs. “She’ll get over it. I mean, really. I’m the one
driving. And she’s…” She stops herself, shaking her head. “She’s still our mother.”

“Who is never gonna change.”

“Maybe not, but I’m still hoping it’ll change how I deal with her so that I don’t keep letting her disrupt my day.”

I wave her on. “Good luck, boo-boo.”

She sucks her teeth. “Whatever. Let me go jump in the shower so I can get out of here on time.” I watch as she walks out of the kitchen, shaking my head.
Bless her heart
, I think, getting up to remove the whistling kettle from the stove. I glance up at the clock.
It’s time to get my day started,
I think, dropping a teabag into my cup, then pouring hot water over it.
Yup, she’s our mother alright, but she’s still a mess!

Persia
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“
P
aradise Boutique, how can I help you?” I answer into the phone, glancing over at this chick messing up a table of assorted designer T-shirts that were neatly folded until her ass started ruffling through them. I want to charge over there and smack the shit out of her. But the deep, dreamy voice on the other end distracts me from kindly swinging Miss Messy Ass out the door.

“Hey, beautiful…I’ve been thinkin’ about you all morning.”

I blink. “Who is this?”

He laughs. “Oh, here you go wit’ this again. You done forgot me that quick,
again
?”

It doesn’t take long for me to realize that this deep, panty wetting voice on the other end isn’t calling for
me
. It’s for Paris. But, curiosity creeps up in me. And since he can’t tell our voice patterns apart, I decide not to tell him he has the wrong one. Instead, I start to wonder if he’s as sexy in person as he sounds on the phone. Wonder why Paris hasn’t mentioned him. I need to see what this man looks like in the flesh. I smile. “Maybe, maybe not,” I answer, coyly. My pussy comes alive.

“Yeah, aiight. Well, check this out. I haven’t forgotten you; especially not after that last ep we had together.”

My cunt purrs.
Ohmygod, that sneaky heifer has fucked this delicioussounding
motherfucker and hasn’t said one word about it.
“Is that so?” I ask, keeping my eye on Miss Messy, wishing she’d get the hell on up out of here while I talk to this dreamy delight on the other end. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking about?”

“Yo, don’t front. You already know.”

“Tell me, daaaady,” I coo into the phone.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout that good pussy. My dick’s been hard all day.”

A tinge of jealousy sweeps through me, but is quickly replaced with lecherous thoughts of fucking him myself. I moan. “Mmmm, and I love me some hard dick.”
I wonder how big it is. Is it fat and long, or short and stumpy?

“And my dick loves how you make it feel. Damn. I wanna come to Paradise and get some more pleasure.”

A smile creeps across my face. An opportunity presents itself. How can I resist?

I can’t.

No, I have to.

Hmmm. I wonder why Paris never mentioned this one.

It’s obvious. She wants him to herself.

Or maybe she’s waiting for the right time to bring him to us so we can all feast on him, together.

Maybe not; maybe she’s interested in him for herself.

Then she would’ve told us about him. She would’ve said he’s off limits.

But we share everything. No one has ever been off limits.

“Why didn’t you call my cell?” I ask, fishing to see exactly how well Paris and this mystery man know each other. Even though it’s obvious she’s already fucked and sucked him by the way he’s talking, if Paris was really interested in him, he’d have her cell number, and he would’ve known she was out of town. I hold my breath. Wait for his answer.

He laughs. “Yo, you know you been frontin’ hard. All the sexin’ we do and you still haven’t hit me with it. It’s like you wanna see a nigga beg. Is that what you want, baby?”

Hmmm…she can’t be too interested then.

But she’s fucked him more than once.

That doesn’t mean anything.

She still hasn’t given him her number, so that says to me she has no intentions of giving it to him. And I can fuck him, too.

For a hot second, I consider my salacious thoughts. Think about Paris. Entertain the notion that perhaps she might really be interested in him, for herself. Think about how she might feel if she found out that I’ve sampled him, too. But then suddenly—I don’t care. I want, need, to see who this man is. And why Paris has kept him a secret.

“No, I don’t want you to beg.”

“Then what you want me to do?”

I lower my voice. “Come here and fuck my pussy real good, and I’ll make sure you finally get my number. But don’t think I’m gonna make it easy for you.” Miss Messy glances over at me, holding up a black Donna Karan dress. “Umm, can I help you?” I ask with more attitude than I probably should have. But, this bitch is trying to ear hustle on my time.

“Yes, I’d like to know if this dress is on sale.”

Bitch, do you see a red tag on it?
Is it on the sale rack?
“Hold on,” I tell him, annoyed that this bitch is fucking up my phone time.

“No, you good. Go handle ya business. I’ma come through as soon as you close. And you can finish all that slickness you were talkin’ then.”

“Ma’am,” I say, holding a finger up. “Give me one second.”

“Take your time,” she says snidely.

I return back to my conversation, feeling my panties sticking to
my pussy. “Oh, trust me. I’m gonna do more than talk. You make sure you’re ready to put up, or get shut up. I want you to beat this pussy up.”

He laughs. “Aaaah, shit. You done got my dick extra hard talkin’ all that slick shit. I got you, though. We gonna see what’s really good when I get there.”

“Yes, we shall. Oh, and by the way, you’ve got my panties soaked.” I hang up on him, pull down my panties and step out of them, sticking them in one of the drawers. I make my way over to Miss Messy. “Now, how can I help you?”

And this bitch better buy something, too!

Pain
CHAPTER FORTY

“
D
amn, baby, you miss big daddy like that?” he asks the minute I pull him into the back office and pounce on him. The moment he walked through the door, grinning at me, I wanted to fuck and suck him. Envy swept through me. This is Paris’s secret. Fine, dark chocolate wrapped around thick, bulging muscles. Her guilty pleasure would now become mine. It has been years since I’ve purposefully fucked a man who thought I was either Paris or Porsha. Boyfriends who loved them, or lusted them, wanting to be their firsts. But they weren’t fucking. They weren’t sucking. I was. And I was always eager to give them what they thought my sisters would. Good pussy, some ass, a good dick suck. Paris and Porsha were virgins doing boring shit—still making out, grinding, and kissing, and dick teasing. I was the one who gave the boys want they wanted. I’m the one who knew how to make them feel real good.

“Aaaaah, shit…suck that dick, baby…”

I look up, flutterin’ my eyes and moanin’ as I slowly run my tongue along the underside of his dick, then around the head. His dick pulses. I let go of it, standin’ up. “Yo, why you stop? You got my dick hard as steel, right now.”

“I’ll be right back,” I tell him, walking into the office closet to get my cherry-flavored head gel out of my purse. I scoop some
out with a finger, put it into my mouth. He’s now sitting on the sofa. I walk over to him, then drop down between his legs. I take his dick into my hand, then suck and slurp him until it starts to stretch and thicken. He closes his eyes. “Aaaah, fuck…that’s right, baby…suck daddy’s fat dick…”

He winds his hips, slow. Allows me to control the amount of dick I take into my mouth with my hands. “There you go…wet that shit…” I spit all over it, coating it with a glob of slob, then start jacking him off while I suck on his balls.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby…”

“You like that? You like how your little cum-slut is sucking all over them balls?” I ask. I lift his dick up and lap at his balls, then roll my tongue around them.

He grunts. “Fuck yeah. Suck them balls for me.”

I take his balls into my mouth. Pop them in and out, stroking his shaft.

“You want me to be your personal dick sucker? You like the way I coat your dick with my spit?” I ask, spitting on his dick, stroking it. He moans. “Tell ya little dick-sucking bitch how you want it.” I tell him to grab my titties, twist them. Slap them.

He looks at me, seemingly shocked by my aggressive demeanor. “Damn, ma, you real wild tonight. I didn’t know you like gettin’ it in like this.”

I grin, sly. “There’s a whole lot you don’t know about me, big daddy. Sometimes I like it real nasty. Sometimes I like it mild. Tonight, nigga, I want it wild.” I tell him I want him to talk dirty to me; to call me filthy names and yank my hair. I let him know how I want him to fuck me. Tell him how I’m going to suck his fat dick nice and slow and wet, then suck the nut out of it. I tell him I want him to eat my ass out, toss this salad until I beg him to fuck me deep in it. I tell him no pussy tonight; ass and throat, only.

“Damn, ma. You wildin’ for real; that’s wassup. So that’s how you wanna get it in, then that’s how we get it in. So get back up on this muthafuckin’ dick, bitch, and suck it like you love it.”

“Mmmm, yeah, nigga. That’s right. Talk nasty to a bitch.”

He stands back up. “Suck daddy’s muhfuckin’ dick,” he says, yanking me by the hair. The muscles in my pussy constrict. I take him back in my mouth. The head of his dick hits the back of my throat. He stands still; lets me feed on the dick. I gag, but keep on suckin’. He lets out a moan as I take him down to the base. I work my lips and tongue up and down the length of his shaft. “Yeah, baby…mmm, fuck…gobble that shit up…yeah, just like that…let daddy stroke ya throat, baby…yeah…mmmph…”

He feeds my hungry mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. I sink my nails into his flesh. Urge him to bang my throat up. He wraps his thick hand into my hair, palms my head and fucks my throat. I close my eyes, but quickly open them when Paris’s face enters my space. A tinge of guilt creeps up in me for doing this nigga in her office, behind her back, but I swallow it back along with this nigga’s chocolate dick. I block out her image, making loud gurgling sounds. Spit and drool splash everywhere.

I reach beneath me, rapidly smack my pussy and pop my clit. I slip a finger, then two, into my slick cunt. “Yeah, play wit’ that fat pussy, baby…” I look up at him. Tell him not to call me that. Direct him to call me dirty, harsh names: Bitch, Slut, Whore. “Aiiight, baby…shit, fuck…play in that pussy, bitch!” I moan. My pussy grips my fingers. I am wet and slick and ready. “You ready for me to fuck you in that fat ass, bitch?!” I moan again, rapidly sucking him off. He takes hold of my hair and yanks my head off of his dick, leaving my mouth vacant and lonely.

“Lean over on that desk and spread them ass cheeks.” He drops down on his knees, shoves his face in between my thighs and eats
my ass, tosses it like it’s his last meal. He spits in my hole, runs his tongue in it.

I moan. Reach back and grab the sides of his face, pull him deeper in. I smother him with my ass. Grind up against his face and tongue until I feel weak. He stands, turns me around, then tells me to suck his dick. I do. Wet it up nice and slow. Spit all over it and jerk it as I lap at his balls. He asks if I have any KY. I tell him no. Tell him to fuck me like a prison whore. His eyes widen. “Say, what?”

I stand up. Bend back over the desk, planting my hands flat on top of it, glancing over my shoulder at him. “I said, fuck me. Like. A. Prison. Whore.”

“Yo, you wildin’ for real, baby.”

“I’m not your baby. I’m your bitch, your whore.” I slap my ass, hard. “Fuck me as such.” I glance at his rock-hard dick still coated with spit. It bounces at the thought of fucking me in the ass, rough and dirty.

He spits in his fingers, rubbing them along the center of my asshole. He jabs a finger in. My ass and pussy muscles clench. My clitoris throbs. He leans into my ear, whispers, “You sure you want me to get up in this ass?”

I nod. “Yes. Pull my ass open and take it.”

The tip of his thick dick presses into the entrance of my ass. Greeted with resistance, he slaps it, pushes his way through until something pops. A gasp escapes from the back of my throat. “Open this tight ass up. Let this dick in.” He slaps me on the ass again. Pushes more of him in. I yelp. Writhe and wriggle under him, trying to manage his thickness; its stretch searing through my ass, causing moisture to seep from my chocolate walls, accommodating him; his dick.

“Oh, mmmm…fuck my ass…”

“Like this?” he questions, thrusting himself deep into me.

I groan. My words come out in a long string of syllables. “Yesssss…ohyesssssmotherfuckerfuckmehardanddeepwiththatfassdick…”

He reaches under me, finds my clit and presses on it, pinches it. It swells at his touch. He gently pushes more of his dick into my ass. “Ohhh, yessss…” The weight of him on top of me feels good. His hard body is hot against my back. His breath lost in my hair. I press my ass up against his hips; welcome his thrusts. “Fuck my ass deep, nigga.” With each thrust, he stretches me. My ass melts around his dick. What he lacks in length, he makes up for in width and rhythm. I feel sparks shooting through my ass. He slips his fingers into my slit, then cups my pussy. “Oooooooh…” I push myself onto my elbows. Back my ass up on his dick. I rotate my hips, wide and urgent. I’m creaming. “Fuck me harder.”

Another orgasm is creeping up in me, tickling the base of my spine, looping its way to my clit. I eye him over my shoulder. “Pull my hair, motherfucker, fuck me harder and smack my ass!”