Politics. Escorts. Blackmail. (9 page)

Friday—August 5, 2011

I
t won’t fit,” Ms. 111 said, sounding frustrated, as she lay on her back in a king suite at the Marriott hotel in downtown Manhattan.

“Relax, baby. Let’s go slow.”

Kemba was about five inches of his ten into the seventy-year-old widowed woman who usually went out of the country to find a sex stud. She had no qualms about paying for some dick.

She did well financially with her retirement, as she had held a very high-level position in the judicial system up until ten years ago.

“Just use the tip, maybe. You’re so wide. So long. I still have my insides but I’ll need a hysterectomy if I let more of your cock in,” she told him. She sounded like she was joking. She wore a frown.

He showed understanding. “Maybe we can do it from behind. Sometimes that’s easier.”

“Okay. If you say so.” He climbed off of her, his hard-on sheathed in a condom. She glanced down at his grand entirety. “Wow, how did your mom handle your father? Whose side of the family does that run on, anyway?”

He held the weight of his penis in his hand. “I’m not sure. It just takes some getting used to.”

“I don’t know. I thought I’d seen them all. But you are really something else, Mr. Big Stuff.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Can you give yourself a blow job? I’ve heard of that. All you’d need to do is lean forward and there it would be, knocking on your chin.” She looked absolutely serious.

“I’m afraid not. Not that limber.”

“Well, okay, let’s try this ‘from behind’ thing.” She lay on her side along the bold-colored lime-green-and-white-striped sheets. He moved in behind her. She scooted her pale, wrinkled body back toward him and lifted her leg just a bit, taking her hand to separate the skin of her deflated butt cheeks. “Let me move my muffins and try to squeeze you in. Can you get to it that way?” she asked, trying to look back at him.

“I’m sure I can. I’m going in.” Kemba was amused but fought not to show it. He instead went ahead and inserted his very tip to her opening and pressed a bit.

She gave a slow moan like she was wounded.

“Are you okay?”

“I am. You can go in some more, big boy.” She still kept her sense of humor.

“Hold on.” He realized she was extra-dry due to her age, so he reached over to his side of the bed to get his water-based lubricant and rubbed it over his dick. He’d sexed up a lot of older women before, and had trained his dick to stay ready when those he fucked weren’t his type. He called up various images in his mind, his mental Viagra. Images of a hot porno scene or his favorite sexual experience, the ones that kept him hard when he needed to be. He had worked out a system. Performing was his bread and butter; he had to get it up and stay up, so whatever it took, he did it.

For now, his dick was more curious than anything else. He met the woman’s gray-haired pussy again with his penis, sliding it in just about an inch, and when he felt it was safe he went another inch, and then another, and managed to get half of it in without her scooting away.

It was like she was holding her breath, so he asked, “Are you okay?”

Her reply was, “Who’s your dad, anyway? King Kong?”

He smiled and pushed some more.

She said, sounding alarmed, “That’s enough. That’s enough.”

He grinned behind her and asked, “What gets you off?”

She said right away. “Having my nipples sucked. And sucking dick.”

He nodded, saying, “Okay.” He pulled out and she immediately took her dentures out and set them on the side table.

He gasped inside and thought,
Humph. This could be interesting.

She lay on her back while he removed the condom and got on his knees to just the right spot to meet her mouth with his dick, inserting himself. She said, “I’ll take you places you ain’t never been before. I’m gonna rock your world.” He laughed inside and wondered if she watched BET or what. She was trying to sound hip. But her face spelled
grandma
. Her mouth was wide open, accommodating every inch of the dick her pussy couldn’t.

He looked down at her, impressed that she was able to take in his entirety. The feeling of a toothless woman had him going.

She used her right hand to guide him further. His width filled the circumference of her mouth.

Kemba said, “I’ll suck your nipples in a minute, but right now, this feels so good. You’ve got all that dick in there.”

She moaned against his skin while she worked.

She gagged, allowing the saliva to assist in keeping her hand slippery. He could feel the sensation of her stroke, her tongue, and her lips. She was gumming him down, old-school style.

He asked, looking pleased, “You trying to make me come?”

She looked up at him and her eyes watered so much from his size that it looked like she was crying. But she tried even more to suck him down.

He pulled himself back, trying not to ejaculate, remembering who it was that had paid whom. “You’re very good, but this is all about you.”

She let go of his dick, giving a grin that was all gums, and reached over to pop her teeth back in her mouth. “My husband used to love that.” She looked proud of herself. “I had a lover in the Bahamas who would make me squirt. Gotta get back to see him. He’s black like you, but nowhere near as big. You’re a beautiful man.”

“Thanks. And you’re a beautiful woman. Now let me suck those pretty titties of yours. Maybe it’ll remind you of him.”

She inserted her middle finger inside her pussy, and then two more, and Kemba caressed her sagging breasts, taking one into his mouth, giving back-and-forth licks to her nipple, which hardened instantly. Then he did the other one. He sucked her while she finger-fucked herself faster and faster. He kept at her right nipple, watching her watch him. She buried another finger inside of herself and said, “I found my spot. It’s right there. Oh yes. Suck me.”

He did as she liked.

She gave a final digging around with her fingers and bucked when she yanked her fingers out, releasing a liquid trickle that made Kemba’s eyes bug out of his head. She growled and another trickle expelled. It leaked onto the sheets. He stopped sucking her nipple just as she said, “That was just what I needed. I’ve still got it.” She got up, walking slowly, and began putting her clothes back on. “You made me squirt that squirt, boy!”

“Oh yes. You still got it, indeed,” he said, almost in shock. “I’m about half your age and I’ve never seen anything like that. You’re doing okay.” He lied. Beryl got her squirt on regularly. But the liquid Ms. 111 expelled smelled like urine, though he didn’t dare bust her bubble.

“Thanks. I’ve got to go,” she told him, looking fully charged.

“I understand.”

She gave a wink as she grabbed her purse. “Whoever your sweetheart is, she’ll need some vaginal rejuvenation after working that for a spell. That’s a full-time job.”

He laughed.

She slowly walked to the door. “Don’t you bruise that pretty banana now.”

“Not even.”

Ten seconds later, she was gone. Kemba had made his money.

His mental Viagra kept him up again.

It never let him down even when it was the GILFs who needed some dick, too.

Just like when he was back in Kenya.

Friday—August 5, 2011

B
y two that afternoon, after his late checkout from the hotel, Kemba called Beryl as he headed out of the room, but she didn’t answer. He headed through the busy lobby of the Marriott wearing a tight blue sweater and blue jeans. Faces and movement were all around him, but he instantly froze in place upon seeing her. She was the beautiful, tall black woman he’d seen almost two months ago in the long black limo.

Almost as if in slow motion, while everything else around him sped by, she walked toward him in a black cashmere sweater and knit pants, and then passed him. He spun around in wonder. Her hair was dark and shiny. Her face was brown and flawless. His mouth was wide open.

She stopped on a dime and looked back at him, asking, “Don’t I know you?” pointing her slender finger his way.

Her young assistant paused.

Kemba said to himself,
Yes
. He gave a huge nod and extended his hand. “Yes. You were getting into your limo and I was coming out of the gym. It’s good to see you again. I’m Kemba.”

“You too. I’m Ursula.”

“Small world,” he said. He could smell her citrus scent. Her lips were full and painted a shimmery bronze.

“Yes, it is. A beautiful small world.” She looked at her assistant while adjusting her black Coach shoulder bag to her other arm. “Nona, I’ll be right with you. You can head upstairs to your room.”

Nona nodded and walked away, looking back to give her boss a hurry-up look before heading to the elevator.

Ursula asked, “So, do you live in Harlem?”

“Yes.”

“I see. What brings you here? I mean to this hotel?”

He sped right over her inquiry. “Let me ask you. Do you drink?” He pointed to the bar across the lobby.

“I do, but not this time of day.”

“I understand.” He kept staring at her. “You’re even more beautiful close up.”

“Thank you.” She gave a flirtatious scan of him, from his dreads to his feet. “Do you know my last name?”

“No. Would I?”

Her reply was “We’d make some beautiful babies.” She stared at his full lips.

He smiled, exposing every single tooth in his mouth. “I agree.”

“You from here?”

“Kenya.”

“Nice.” She paused as if her mind was spinning. “Are you waiting for someone? You didn’t tell me why you’re here.”

Kemba got creative. “I’m a trainer. I worked someone out earlier.” He cleared his throat.

“Oh. I can see your calling card.” She looked straight at his defined arms and even licked her lips. “Very nice.”

He dipped his head. “Thanks.”

“So, can you meet me upstairs in about twenty minutes?”

He said right away, looking at her like he was unsure, “Oh, I don’t know, this is all moving kinda fast…hell yeah.” He grinned big and laughed.

“Funny man. Okay. I like that.” She reached in her bag and handed him her room key. “Twelve-twelve.”

He put the key in his pants pocket, nodding. “See you in twenty.”

Her phone rang and she answered it. “Nona, I’m coming right up to your room. Open the door for me.” She winked at him and walked away.

He watched the design of her figure again, almost in a trance, and shook himself out of it, heading to the bar.
Damn.

As Kemba sat down and ordered a Corona, the young male bartender asked, “Isn’t that Senator Darrell Ellington’s wife?”

“Is it?” Kemba asked.

The bartender reached down into the under fridge. “Is her name Ursula?”

“Sure is.” He looked back toward where she’d gone.

“She’s a very beautiful woman.
Very
beautiful.” He opened the bottle and set it before Kemba.

“Yes. Very.” Kemba looked intrigued. “Thanks.” He reached into his pocket and looked at the key card. Then he looked at his wristwatch, counting down the minutes, praying time would hurry up and pass.

Thirty minutes later, Kemba slid his thick tongue in and out of Ursula’s dark brown pussy, tongue-fucking her into another world.

She held her breath with every plunge of his long, scooping mouth-muscle that invaded her cavity. She kept her sights on him as his bottom lip scooped her labia into position and his top lip acted as an accomplice to his tongue action, both assisting him by keeping her erect clitoris in just the right place for him to truly eat as if she were a sugar cane.

He toyed with her lips and opening, and then found her sweet spot. It was larger than most and a dark shade of pink. It swelled beyond its foreskin, exposing itself on its own. The protective hood had retracted just from the excitement, exposing the sensitive glans that lay beneath. It looked like the head of a penis. It was the extra-long love button that her husband had probably ignored, but Kemba knew better.

The shaft of it lay vertically, just above her opening, where at its divide, it looked like an upside down letter Y. That was how up close and personal he was. He took its pretty axis into his mouth and sucked it like it was a crooked finger. His technique was impressive and cannibalistic. He gave her hungry eyes like he was there for a meal, not an appetizer.

The nerve endings of her organ were going haywire. The tension was at its height. He backed away from it for a second and blew on it lightly. It pointed outward toward him as though begging for more, seeming to open like a blooming daffodil. He housed it again with his spiraling tongue and mouth.

Ursula ceased watching him. Her thrill seemed too much to handle, and she looked like she could burst. He inserted his long middle finger inside her while sucking. Her pleasure had reached its max. Her Y was ready for the big O.

He rubbed his tongue back and forth upon her organ. She screamed one loud scream and pressed her own hand to her mouth, fighting to keep herself from yelling bloody murder. “Ooooo, ooooo, I’ve never, noooo, ahhh, nooo. Yesssss!” Her body squirmed as if it were wondering who the hell she was.

Ursula came so hard, she squeezed Kemba’s head between her legs like he was in a WWE headlock. He backed away as her thighs released him, and he wiped his mouth. “Your clit is perfect. I love it.”

She sounded winded. “No,
I
love it. Where in the hell did you learn that?”

“Just trying to please.”

“Shit.”

He said not another word but moved himself over to put on a rubber, then climbed on top of her. He lay upon her and opened her legs wide, sliding his penis inside with ease.

She gave one long “Uuunghh” upon his entry, seeming to take in the feeling of having his girth inside of her. “Oh my Lord.”

His ten inches fit like a glove, and the deeper he went, the more she ground against him to assist his penetration.

He asked, bringing his face close to hers. “You wanna work this dick, huh?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

He said calmly, “I’m adding pressure to your clit when I grind. What I need you to do is, move your hips downward as I enter, and upward at the end of my stroke, giving downward and then outward rolls of your hips, just roll your pelvis with mine, and follow my lead. Move it downward as I go inward, and then roll outward as I pull outward, ready to stroke again. You’ll get the upward friction from me against your pretty clit. And with the size of your clit, this can be amazing.”

“Okay.” She seemed in a trance.

“Relax.” He began.

She took a deep breath as his chest pressed against hers. He pushed his hips toward her, going deep while she rolled her hips downward. She followed his lead and did as she was told.

“Breathe with me. That’s it.” He moaned in approval.

She eyed his black skin and hugged him tightly as they fucked missionary. He could feel her heartbeat, her breaths, her movements, as he worked to please her. They were in sync after having just met. It felt wrong but so right.

He said in her ear while fucking her, “I know you’re Senator Ellington’s wife. He’s one lucky man.”

She replied by opening her mouth and finding his tongue with hers, French-kissing him. Their DNA exchanged. Their hormones mixed.

He began kissing her forehead, caressing her face with his lips, giving passionate kisses upon her eyelids, tracing her nose, her cheeks, and her lips with his. “You’re so beautiful. My God.”

She took him in while moving as one. He savored the feeling of his fingers running through her hair. He looked her in the eyes and stayed with her until she came to her clitoral excursion peak, releasing the feeling of a new, rolling orgasm. She shed her thrill, and he shed his fifteen minutes later.

After making it into the bathroom to toss the condom, he came back to lie beside her. They faced each other, her leg resting upon his as if they’d lain like that a million times.

He said, “I never expected to see you again. I’m still shocked.”

She said, looking sated, “I never thought I’d do this, asking a stranger to be alone with me. I’m a married woman.”

“You’re a sexy woman, is what you are.”

She gave a blushing smile. “There’s just something about you. I can’t explain it. All I can think about is seeing you again. Can we?”

“We can.” He nodded, looking like she’d just read his mind.

She explained, “If we exchange numbers, I’ll call you from a phone number where the ID reads Dallas. It’s my side number.”

“Okay. I get it.” He didn’t ask why.

She stared at him and rubbed her hand along his hairline. “I love your dreads.” Her gaze did not waver.

“Thanks. I love your hair,” he told her, pleased that her hair was natural, unlike Beryl, who wore a weave.

“Thanks.” She then said, “Kemba. I’m bit older than you.”

“You’re perfect.”

Looking extra flattered, she closed her eyes and then opened them quickly. “I’m sorry but I realize, well, you’d better go. My assistant will need me to go over some things with her soon. I’m doing a fund-raiser tonight and need to prepare.” She moved her leg from his.

“I understand.” He kissed her again along her forehead and then got up from the bed. He walked to the desk and wrote his number on a notepad.

He turned to see her staring at his body. She said, “You’re built like a Greek god. Your name should be Apollo.”

He laughed, stepping into his pants and putting on his shirt.

“By the way, just so you know, I have never done this before. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“I’m glad you did.” He put on his shoes.

“Thanks for the workout,” she said teasingly. “Have a good day, Kemba.”

“You do the same, beautiful.” He walked back to her and kissed her on the lips, and then he exited.

He headed home to his woman. He had just given away for free the very same dick that women paid thousands for. But in his mind, his woman Beryl gave her pussy away for free to men other than him, so what was the difference? He knew this was not a part of their agreement, but it was his way of passively getting even in their open relationship.

He was trying out new things, and he hoped that this was only the beginning with pretty clit Ursula.