Sexaholics (16 page)

Gregory moved down her body and crept his tongue to her belly button.

She squirmed.

And then he met her hairline.

She wiggled.

And then right down to her split, licking around it, up and down and side to
side. He looked up at her and she looked down at him. His eyes were wide like
quarters. She watched him watch her like he was waiting for her face to tell him
he’d hit the right spot.

It did not.

His tongue grazed over her opening and she longed for him to penetrate her
with the tip, using a scooping motion like she’d taught him before. She
scooted her pussy closer to his face, hoping to refresh his memory.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“You gonna cum for me. Come on my face now.”

She still squirmed, almost as if trying to make her pussy find his tongue and
handle the movement for him. She moved her vagina down, hoping his mouth would
rest near her clitoris and elicit a butterfly lashing.

But it did not.

He lowered his mouth in exact measure to her lowering. He shook his face and
made a growling noise and managed to say, “Cum for me. That’s it.
Cum for Daddy.”

Valencia waited for a moment, trying to allow him to go through his motions
as usual. Sometimes, he could bring her to climax, but it took awhile. Tonight
though, she had no patience whatsoever.

She began to recite her fake-mode script. “Ooooh, baby. Yes,
that’s it. That’s it. I’m cumming for my baby. You’re so
damn good. Yes. It’s cuming. It’s, oh Greg. That’s it.
Yes.” The zero sensation from her pussy was in direct opposition to her
words. She performed as though it was a mercy fuck.

He stopped, immediately backing away from what he was doing and took on the
spectator role, watching her facial expressions as she moaned. His eyes said he
loved her and he had a look on his face like he was the man. “Yeah. Get
that. Uh-huh. See. See what you’ve been missing.” He had both hands
on his own dick and had been strumming his meat like it was a banjo.

He arranged himself to mount her. She took long, bogus panting breaths to
signal the end of her orgasm. He pinned her legs back and lay upon her. She
noticed that his chest was slightly flabby, almost to the point of getting
man-boobs. But he didn’t notice her noticing. He spit on his hand and
rubbed it along her asshole, finding his way by touch. He pressed one finger
inside. “Oh yeah. There it is. That’s all mine there.” Greg
placed the tip of his dick at the opening of her tight ass and darted inside
with a look on his face like he was high on Hennessey when he hadn’t had a
drop.

She flinched for one quick second, tightened her eyes, and then was
still.

He lowered his chest upon her and buried his face deep into the nape of her
musk-oil-scented neck. “Umh. Umh. Umh. Aww shit. Uhghhhh!” He
paused, froze, pumped, froze, and then rose up. As she unzipped her eyes, he
looked down at her face and said, “That was the shit.”

He was done.

He had shot his wad in her ass already.

Valencia never even moved. She never ground back. Never had a chance to get
the feeling of his penis inside of her backside long enough to spark the thrill
of a flame.

He never hit that spot or any spot.

She barely even felt him.

He maneuvered himself to a stance and held on to his soft dick. He shook his
head and said, “Damn, girl. I almost forgot how good you are. I’m
gonna go ahead and take a shower. And then I need to send an e-mail.”

She lowered her legs and lay flat on her back. “Okay.”

He headed to the bathroom, saying, “You can go ahead and get some
sleep. I know how you are when you get in that postorgasm mood after I work it.
You’ll be asleep in no time.”

She said nothing, but he didn’t notice anyway. She went to the guest
bathroom.

An hour later, Valencia tossed and turned in the large, empty bed, still
naked. Gregory was still on his computer, sending e-mails or surfing or working
or playing or whatever it was he did, still naked.

Valencia lay on her back looking up at the black cherry blades of the ceiling
fan.
Is that all there is? I guess this could be a good life. A man. A
house. Money. Maybe a child or two. But so-so sex.
She nodded and looked
over at him.
Yes. Security is enough to keep me right where I am. Whether or
not I get great dick from my future husband isn’t the thing that matters.
I love him. And he loves me.
She glanced over at him with groggy eyes
.
What in the hell is he doing, anyway? Oh Lord.
The screen was facing the
other wall. All she saw upon the side of his face was the reflective light from
the screen’s grayish-blue illumination.

Within minutes of her own ongoing reflections running through her head, from
her wedding to her sex life, Valencia quietly snuck her hand under the covers,
turned her back to her fiancé, and rubbed her stiff clitoris on the slide.
In her mind, she thought about Miki’s premier clit-sucking skills,
pretending Miki’s mouth was under the covers. Valencia tightened her ass
and burst a smooth cum against her hand. She held it in with an internal grunt.
And Gregory was none the wiser.

A minute later, with dick in hand, Gregory took a quick glance at her back
and darted his eyes back to the screen, back to her, and back to the screen,
while he busted a quiet webcam nut of his own.

She sighed.

He sighed.

He had his woman in his bed.

She had a man who loved her.

Valencia fell fast asleep.

Satisfied.

Gregory stayed up just a little while longer.

Brandi

I
n the middle of the following week,
Brandi’s eighth-grade class arrived for the start of the school day at the
retro-looking Harcourt Middle School, a one-hundred-thousand-square-foot, newer
magnet school with sixty prototype classrooms for students grades six through
eight.

The bell was to ring at 7:50 a.m. It was 7:40.

Some backpack-wearing students walked far too slowly and some rushed about.
Most were in groups, chatting. A few walked alone. A few were hugged up as
couples. But none were with their parents. Except one.

“Hello, Miss Williams,” said a female student with long
ponytails, sounding cheery as she said good-bye to her father, who had walked
her to class.

Brandi, standing beneath the long, covered breezeway, said to her,
“Hello, Asia. How’s it going?”

“Good, thanks, ma’am.”

“Did you study for your test today?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Brandi looked at Asia’s dad. “Hi, Mr.
Turner.”

“Hey, Ms. Williams. You can call me Harold.”

Brandi looked at his daughter as she entered the classroom. “Thanks,
but we don’t call parents by their first names.”

“I see. Any rule against a parent calling a teacher by her first
name?”

“My name is Miss Williams.”

“Miss, huh? I see.” He sounded let down.

“That’s my name at school.” Brandi met his eyes. “But
away from school, my name is Brandi. Maybe we can meet at seven tonight at the
bar on Olympic called Francisco’s.”

His face beamed as well as his voice. “I’ll be there.”

“Tell me your number. I’ll remember it,” Brandi promised,
leaning her ear toward his mouth and looking around.

He whispered his digits slowly.

She turned her back to him, thumbing her earlobe. “Drive safely and
have a good day.”

“I will. Oh, it’s good already.” He walked away, stepping
like he was on cloud nine.

Brandi placed her hand on the back of a young man who’d rushed down the
hall and turned on a dime to enter the classroom. “Hello, Keyshaun. I see
you barely made it.”

“I know, Miss Williams.” His voice was deeper than middle-school
deep but not quite grown.

“How are you?”

“Good.” He looked at Brandi’s legs, which extended from
beneath her peach-colored sheath dress.

She told him, “You look nice today.”

“Thanks, Miss Williams. So do you.” He focused on her hip
area.

His height dwarfed her as she stepped in after him and closed the door,
“Come on now, class. Let’s settle down.” She headed toward her
desk when the door opened.

“Hi, Miss Williams,” said the school principal.

“Hello, Mrs. Ross.”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Mrs. Ross asked, holding the
door open. She gave Brandi the come-hither motion with her index finger.

“Sure.” Brandi said to her students, “Class, I’ll be
right back.” She exited the room and shut the door behind her. Standing
inches from the quartz tile wall in the quiet hallway, she crossed her arms and
said, “Yes?”

“Brandi, your mom called me this morning. Said she’s been looking
for you. She asked me to have you call her,” her boss said. She looked
conservative, with a slightly graying flip hairstyle and an all-beige skirt
suit.

Brandi spoke softly, “Oh, okay. I will. Thanks.” She offered a
wide smile.

“Aren’t you wondering what’s going on with her? I mean, the
fact that she’s looking for you like this.”

“No. I know she’s okay. I know she’s just checking on me.”

“I see.” Mrs. Ross frowned. The vertical line between her eyes
and the crow’s-feet beneath her eyes indicated her years of wisdom.
“Brandi, look. I’ve known you since you and your mom moved next door
to me on Verdun Avenue when you were the very same age as these kids here. Now,
I’m going to tell you this. One of the parents mentioned that they thought
you smelled of alcohol early in the morning yesterday. I dismissed it. Now,
while I can’t say I’ve ever noticed that myself, I have to tell you
that if another parent or teacher or child or anyone else says they noticed
something, too, I’m going to have to look into it further. You know I love
you, but if I find there’s merit to this, I will have to let you go. I
cannot have the possibility of these types of violations while teachers are on
school grounds. Not around our students.”

“Oh, I totally understand, Mrs. Ross. And I would never put you in a
position like that by doing something so stupid. Never.”

Mrs. Ross’s maternal stare spoke of cautioned inquisitiveness.
“Okay now. So, you’re telling me this is not the case? You’ve
never come to this school after having something to drink?”

Brandi shook her head. “No. I’m telling you the truth.” Her
eyes begged Mrs. Ross to believe her.

“All right. Have a nice day.” Mrs. Ross walked away and then
looked back, speaking louder. “And make sure you call your mom. I
don’t want her getting on me thinking I didn’t tell you.” She
aimed her finger Brandi’s way. “I’m telling you, Brandi,
don’t make me look bad.”

“I won’t. I’ll call her.”

“Good.” Mrs. Ross walked away fast, without saying good-bye.

Brandi said “Thanks” to her from behind and reentered the
classroom, “Okay class. Let’s discuss your book of the month,
Fallen Angels
by Walter Dean Myers. I’m quite sure everyone has
read it and is ready to discuss it in detail.”

The students ruffled around, some reaching into their backpacks and some
flipping open their notebooks.

Brandi took a deep inhale and a long exhale. She counted to ten and then told
her students, “Excuse me one second. I need to go to the ladies’
room for a quick minute. I want all of you to please be prepared to debate the
period of time, in the sixties during the Vietnam War, and how that same story
would have been told today.”

She exited the room with her purse in hand and reached inside for her cell
phone, darting into the restroom two doors down. She pressed *67 before she
dialed and didn’t bother programming the name into her list of
contacts.

“Hello. Yes, this is Miss Williams. Brandi Williams. Asia’s
English teacher… Yes. Good… Oh really? Well, thanks… Listen,
I’m sure you’re on your way to work, but I just wanted to tell you
that I go to lunch at 11:30. There’s a place right down the street called
the Best Western, right off La Tijera. Can you meet me there?… You
can?… Good. Okay. Sure. Bye.”

And before she could get her phone back into her purse, she snuck her other
hand inside and took hold of a silver flask, uncapped it, and brought it to her
mouth, tossing her head back and taking two long gulps of clear lightning. She
clicked her tongue and wiped her mouth with her wrist, running her tongue over
her bottom lip. She twisted the cap back on and replaced the flask in her bag.
Brandi took a look at her reflected image in the scuffed-up mirror, then removed
a stick of Big Red from the side zipper of her bag. She rolled it into her
mouth, chomped on it, and silently said,
Eleven-thirty can’t get here
soon enough
as she headed back to her classroom. She closed the door
tightly to instruct her education-hungry students, doing her good-side
thing.