Zane's Z-Rated: Chocolate Flava 3 (19 page)

Pre-cum oozed from Darryl’s dick as he ran his tongue from Tandy’s breast to her belly button and tickled her outie with his tongue. Tandy’s toes curled from the erotic sensation. She spread her legs apart, inviting Darryl to her flower bud. Darryl placed kisses on her thighs, then made his way to her clit. He covered it with his saliva, then used the tip of his finger to softly rub her clit in a circular motion. Tandy’s legs began to tremble. She ached for Darryl’s soft, moist tongue to slither against her throbbing clit.

“Eat it for me,” she whined. “Please eat my pussy.”

Darryl did as Tandy requested and flicked his tongue back
and forth against her clit. When Tandy began to moan, Darryl engulfed her clit with his mouth. His lips closed around her clit like a suction cup. Tears ran down Tandy’s face as she whimpered and called out Darryl’s name. Darryl pushed Tandy’s legs up toward her shoulders and ripped through her walls with his tool. The sweat from his pecan skin and her pineapple skin mixed together and their sweet juices dripped onto the sheets.

Darryl grunted in Tandy’s ear. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this pussy?”

The louder Tandy moaned, the harder Darryl banged on her pussy until they both climaxed. They lay in bed, panting, as they drifted off to sleep. Ever since that night, the two couldn’t get enough of each other.

• • •

Omar walked back to his bedroom and undressed. He looked over at Tandy, who was lying on her side, asleep. Omar slid under the blanket, lifted Tandy’s leg up, and shoved his dick inside her. Tandy jerked away and then sat up in the bed.

“Damn, I missed you,” Omar said, before trying to kiss Tandy’s lips. Tandy pushed Omar away. “What’s wrong with you?”

Tandy sighed. “I don’t feel like it tonight.”

Omar yanked the blanket off Tandy and threw it on the floor, exposing her nakedness. He got out of bed and stood there, looking down on Tandy. The sight of her naked body and his rage made his dick hard.

“What you do that for?”

“Are you fucking another nigga?”

Tandy sucked her teeth and grabbed the blanket off the floor and covered herself up.

“You don’t feel comfortable around me naked anymore?”

“Come on with that, Omar,” Tandy whined. “I’m trying to get some sleep.”

Omar banged his fist against the wall. “Man, I swear, don’t let me find out you fucking someone else.”

Tandy turned her back to Omar and pulled the blanket over her head.

“Oh, it’s like that,” Omar said, before grabbing his belt and striking Tandy on her thigh.

Tandy yelped.

Omar grabbed Tandy’s ankle and dragged her out of bed and into the living room while whipping her with his belt. Tandy’s legs were on fire. She pleaded with Omar to stop but he whipped her mercilessly.

Omar let go of Tandy’s ankle when they reached the front door. Omar opened the front door and pointed outside. “Since you ain’t giving a nigga no ass, get the fuck out.”

Tandy didn’t move. She just lay on the floor, sobbing.

“I know you heard me.” Omar grabbed Tandy’s leg and started to drag her out the door. “Get out.”

“No, please,” Tandy wailed.

Omar looked down at Tandy’s legs and became sickened by the purplish bruises that covered them. He realized he had gone too far, something he always did when he was high on crack.

Omar shut the door, then got down on his knees and leaned over Tandy. “Boo, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Omar bent down to kiss Tandy. “Give me a kiss.”

Tandy didn’t oblige him. She covered her face with her hands and continued to cry.

“Oh, you ain’t gonna give me no kiss?” Omar yelled. “Fuck you, then. I don’t know what I’m sweating ya’ chunky ass for
anyway. I got bitches that look like models that would chop off their arms to be with me.” Omar went to the room and got dressed and walked out the door, leaving Tandy there, crying.

• • •

Darryl knocked on the front door, waking Tandy up. Tandy pried herself up from the spot on the floor where she had lain all night after crying herself to sleep, and opened the door.

Darryl walked in the house and looked Tandy over. “Dag, it’s not that I don’t like seeing you naked, but next time put some clothes on before you come to the door. What if I had somebody with me?” Darryl’s focus quickly went to the bruises on Tandy’s legs. “What happened to your legs?”

“Omar,” Tandy answered. “He came home drunk and high again and he beat me.” Tears welled up in Tandy’s eyes. “He even tried to drag me outside naked.”

“I’m sorry,” Darryl said, as he hugged Tandy. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Tandy got out of the shower, dried off, and put lotion on. She then grabbed her clothes, ready to get dressed.

“Before you put on your clothes, take this for me,” Darryl said, as he handed Tandy a pregnancy test.

“But I don’t think I’m pregnant.”

“I know a pregnant woman when I see one,” Darryl said. “Take the test.”

Tandy squatted over the toilet and positioned the pregnancy test downward between her legs as she urinated on it. Before Tandy could lay the pregnancy test down on the counter, a blue plus sign appeared. Tandy nervously put on her bra and panties.

Darryl looked down at the test and smiled. “Come on, let’s go in the bedroom. I want to talk to you for a minute.”

Darryl and Tandy sat down on the bed and began to talk about Tandy’s pregnancy.

“So do you know who the father is?”

“It has to be yours,” Tandy said. “I haven’t had sex with Omar for damn near three months.”

This made Darryl more upset about Omar beating Tandy. Not only had Omar beaten the woman he loved, he had beaten the woman carrying his child. Darryl got down on his knees and began kissing the bruises on Tandy’s legs.

• • •

Omar pulled up in front of his house and saw Darryl’s Escalade parked outside.
What the fuck is he doing here?
Omar got out of the car, leaving the leather jacket he had bought to buy Tandy’s forgiveness inside the trunk.

Omar unlocked the door and slid it open. He quietly made his way back to the bedroom, listening to Darryl and Tandy’s conversation.

“Give me a few weeks to gather up some money and I’ll move you anywhere you want to go,” Darryl said.

“What about Shay?”

“Fuck Shay!” Darryl exclaimed. “I love my kids and will always provide for them but that bitch has made my life hell.”

Omar pulled out his .45 Magnum and cocked it. Darryl jumped to his feet. Omar fired a shot, shooting Tandy in her neck. She fell to the floor. Omar then pointed his gun at Darryl.

Darryl knelt down beside Tandy and checked her pulse. “Look what you’ve done,” Darryl wailed. “I can’t feel her pulse. I think she’s dead.”

Omar shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to kill her. His eyes bulged, revealing his feelings of terror and remorse. He thought about all the times he’d savagely
beaten Tandy. How could he have done that to her? She was his high school sweetheart. Things had gone horribly wrong and he couldn’t fix them. Omar put the gun to his head.

“Brah, no,” Darryl shrieked.

Omar pulled the trigger and his limp body fell to the floor.

Tears ran down Darryl’s face. He pressed his face against Tandy’s face and cried.

Tandy opened her eyes and then grabbed her stomach and sobbed.

“Thank God,” Darryl said. “Hold on, Tandy. Please stay with me.”

Darryl called the ambulance for Tandy. He then called his mother to tell her that Omar had killed himself. His mother and two sisters arrived as quickly as the ambulance and police. They walked into the bedroom as Tandy was being put on a stretcher. Darryl gave his statement to the police and explained why he was there. He conveyed what he had been hesitant to tell his family all along.

Benita collapsed to the floor after hearing that Omar had turned his gun on himself after finding out Darryl and Tandy were having an affair. Melissa attacked Tandy while she lay on the stretcher, helpless. Darryl’s mother beat Darryl with her Bible as she screamed Leviticus 20:21. “And if a man shall take his brother’s wife, it is an unclean thing; he hath uncovered his brother’s nakedness. They shall be childless.”

The officer questioning Darryl restrained Reverend Moore and another officer restrained Melissa, then put her under arrest for assaulting Tandy.

Darryl’s mother disowned him.

Tandy miscarried on her way to the hospital. The bullet in her neck couldn’t be removed. Tandy thought the bullet protruding
from her neck was God’s way of reminding her that she’d committed adultery. A year later, Darryl and Tandy got married and Tandy became pregnant with Darryl’s son. Darryl decided that his son’s name would be Damar, a combination of his name and Omar’s. Tandy thought Darryl wanted their son to bear the name because he felt guilty about betraying Omar, but she agreed to it. She would do anything to ease Darryl’s conscience. Sometimes Tandy found herself feeling guilty about her infidelity but she managed to convince herself that she didn’t do anything wrong; that all’s fair in love and war.

Kweli Walker

It was impossible not to notice the only man in a Metrorail car, especially a fine, tall, well-built, impeccably dressed, clean-shaven, attaché-carrying man who jumped to give his seat to a sixty-something black woman with obviously bad feet. You could smell the estrogen filling the car. Once standing, he became the center of all—and I mean
all
—attention. Bras got readjusted, skirts got hiked, legs crossed, perfume sprayed, eyelashes batted, smiles went off like the Fourth of July, and hair (real and synthetic) got flipped, shaken, and smoothed. If the Metro car was a universe, he was surely its sun!

His lavender-blue silk shirt was expertly tailored and fit smoothly across his broad, firm chest. With even his slightest movement, it peeked seductively through his unbuttoned trench coat. His beautiful, honey-colored face smoldered in a quadrant of golden morning light, while his dark-brown eyes darted through the Metro car like two wild birds of prey, shamelessly feasting on the candy-box assortment of tits, asses, hips, and legs. Unexpectedly, they locked on to my smooth, African agate necklace, but only after devouring every square inch of my 38DDs, jiggling and swaying with the motion of the car. His unbroken gaze was unapologetic and lusty.

Being a stickler for fairness, I ogled his upturned cock, rigid
with desire. Finally, he smiled and started finessing his way through the Monday-morning mob toward me. He settled so close, I could feel his body heat and smell the breathtaking scent of his earthy cologne wafting from his stylish coat. It was then I noticed his incredible choker, made of very rare, Neolithic, clear quartz beads. He began his cunt quest with some interesting gemstone lore about my beads. I didn’t expect an ordinary line from such an extraordinary man, and he did not disappoint!

“Botswana agate can be helpful for those struggling to be genuine. It also protects a wearer from bad dreams.”

“Genuine? I’m probably one of the most real people you’ll ever meet, Mr.—?”

“Todd Oliphant.” He extended his hand. “And you are?”

“Lisha Lane.”

I held out my hand to shake his, but, instead, he wove his fingers through mine and drew our joined hands to his solid chest. It was an extremely intimate gesture from a stranger, but I found it sexually thrilling.

“You’re a very attractive man, Todd, but I’m really not into all that mumbo jumbo about stones and dreams. I love beautiful beads, but I just string ’em up and wear ’em. And as far as dreams go, I haven’t had a dream since grade school; let alone a nightmare.”

“Really?” His smile never wilted. “How do you know
this
isn’t a dream?”

I don’t remember blinking or looking down, but I must have. When I looked up, our car was empty. I looked into the adjoining car and it was also empty, except for Todd. There he stood, smiling and signaling me to join him. I couldn’t resist.

“Is this a d-d-dream?” I stammered.

“
You
tell me.”

I shrugged, feeling foolish. “I’m not sure.”

“But you’re so sure dreams are all ‘mumbo jumbo.’ Ever heard of Oliphant’s Beads of Antiquity on Lake Avenue, in Old Pasadena?”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been.”

“Perhaps I can persuade you to visit,” he said, gazing hungrily into my eyes. An elegant white business card with crisp, jet-black ink appeared between his fingers. “I’m a certified gemologist, jewelry designer, and metaphysician. I’ve spent most of my thirty-five years studying and lecturing about the power of stones and the meaning of dreams. My two brothers do most of the actual jewelry making. Our family has sold the rarest beads and made the finest jewelry for hundreds of years—since my great-great-great-grandfather arrived in New Orleans from Senegal, as an enslaved African.”

“Are you going to teach your sons?”

“I have a daughter, fifteen, successfully selling her own line of semiprecious earrings. Her mother and I parted, as friends, years ago, but I cherish the dream of having another little me. Do you have children?”

“Not yet,” I said, thinking,
But I cherish the idea of fucking your fine ass up and down this empty railcar, trying to make one.