"Game Night" was originally included in the mini ebook, Exhaust Pipes

Game Night

He read through the last few texts she’d sent that day -- My hair’s in a ‘fro today. And you’ll finally get to meet little red. She punctuated her text with a smiley. His thumb swiped the trackpad on his Blackberry and like the big wheel on The Price is Right, it landed on one of her texts from a couple of days earlier. A photo. He’d hit the jackpot. He knew which body part was in that picture text before he opened it and his pants fit tighter instantly. He imagined reaching over the parking brake and feeling the warmth of that body part through the hair…      

Or entering her with only the tip, thrusting ever-so slightly teasing her until she begged for him. He leaned his head back against the headrest. After a few seconds, he turned the car radio back on, to quiet his thoughts.

The train pulled into the station and one by one, passengers made the exodus down the stairs to the parking lot and street below. Abbie followed the other passengers towards the exit.

Josh watched the newly-arrived; some greeting families at their cars, others driving off solo, some making the trek down the street deeper into the suburbs.

She was crazy to travel out to buttfuck Long Island to meet this man. But she was crazy about him.

He peered through the windshield, tapping the bottom of the steering wheel. This would be the night everyone wears a red jacket he thought. That one was too long. Too short. That one’s too fat. Too Chinese. Then he saw her. Little Red. He understood instantly why she gave her jacket that nickname. It fit... her, her aura, her energy.

Abbie noticed how quickly everyone else found their way leaving her alone in the parking lot. Josh couldn’t work up the nerve to call me before, what’s stopping him from standing me up tonight? She suddenly felt a heavy sense of dread at being stranded in that parking lot.

Josh watched her look at her phone. When she looked up again, he could’ve sworn she locked eyes with him but she merely looked in his general direction. He flashed his lights and he saw the exact moment of recognition on her face.

Her walk became more focused now that she had a destination.

Josh exhaled and turned off the radio again. He rubbed his hands together and tried to warm them up by blowing on them. He climbed out the jeep and circled around to the front passenger side. Her bag bounced off her hip and he eyed her compact frame.

ABBIE: It took everything in me not to break out into a full sprint when I saw him.

He straightened his already straight coat. All the tension left his body when she flashed her infectious smile.

Her nerves made her strides shorter and her steps quicker.

JOSH: She was so cute. That hair, those legs...

It struck her that this was the first time she’d seen a full smile on his face. And it meant the world to her that he had good teeth. She couldn’t wait to run her hand over his buzz cut.

He was taller than she expected. A definite plus.

Their bodies crashed together. As though they’d rehearsed this countless times before, her arms went up and around his neck and shoulders and he held her by the waist in the crook of each elbow. This was months in the making. Josh’s chest heaved. Hers hoed. His shoulders were broad and strong. She perched her chin on one. She was real. He was actually holding Abbie in his arms, her hair tickling his cheek. Each kept their hands where they could be seen, in case they were seen by anyone. It wasn’t their intention to be exhibitionists. The least amount of attention they could draw to themselves, the better. To the outsider, it looked like two friends hugging after a long, long time apart, just out of the beam of the streetlight.

She could feel his heat radiating off of his body. As she memorized his scent her lip grazed his neck. Josh let out a sound so low in frequency she felt it louder than she heard it. Her moan in response escaped her lips without thought.

ABBIE: He just kissed me.

Soft and slow.

Their kisses intensified. His hand traveled up, down and around her back. She couldn’t get any higher on her tip-toes but she tried so she could press her hips into his as he pressed forward. Abbie’s tongue slinked deeper into his mouth. She lightly raked her fingers down the back of his head as she sucked his lip.

JOSH: I haven’t been kissed like that in forever...

The last car drove out of the Seaford LIRR station parking lot. The two remained passionately embraced and oblivious to the world.

Josh abruptly ended the kiss and let go of her. Not a word. She was still taken with the heat of their exchange and watched him bleary-eyed. He walked to the driver side of the Jeep and climbed into the back seat. He opened the passenger side door. The invitation was accepted.

Abbie threw her bag over the back of the front passenger seat and began to work her jacket off as she slammed the door closed behind her. This must be his car, not the family car, she thought, since there was no car seat. She barely formulated the thought before Josh kissed her, pressing the back of her head onto the window, flattening her hair. She pushed back with the force of her kiss and worked her jacket all the way off and straddled him in one motion. Her hands were cold against the skin of his chest and stomach when she slipped them under his shirt. His nipples hardened under her touch.

The rustling of their clothes and movements against the car interior,

Their breaths,

The only sounds.

From across the parking lot, the two figures could barely be made out. It looked as though there was a struggle or a violent dance going on in the back of the Jeep.

Josh scooted his hips out from under hers and forced her on her back. He pulled his lips away from hers just long enough to take off his shirt. She eyed his pecs, the round of his delts, his abs. She subconsciously mirrored his physique by sucking in her stomach. She tugged at his belt buckle in haste but wasn’t making any progress. He undid it himself so she focused on undoing her own clothes. Josh’s jeans hung open. She reached up and ran her fingers along that spot under his belly button looking him in the eye the entire time. A smile crept onto her face. In the first photo he’d sent her, in which he wasn’t wearing a shirt, she noticed that spot, under his belly button and above his “man-goods”, and instantly wanted to play with it, kiss it, lick it. This was a moment of firsts, a moment of finally being able to experience all they’ve wanted to.

He leaned over to kiss her, one hand on the back of the seat, the other working off his jeans and underwear. Abbie reached down to touch that spot again. Her finger didn’t feel the waistband of his boxer briefs so she ventured lower and there he was, firm, warm, throbbing. She raised her hips as he tugged her jeans down her legs. She worked one of her sneakers off so she could take her pants all the way off on one side.

Josh, nude from the waist down.

Abbie, in panties with her jeans around one ankle. She remembered how much I fucking love the way she looks in white panties.

ABBIE: He looked so fucking sexy over me like that.

JOSH: She looked up at me with that look on her face like ‘fuck me already’.

Her nod was almost undetectable but Josh saw it. She was saying yes to him. Yes to all of it. He hadn’t been in the back seat of a car since college. The monotony of suburban life had dulled him, but she reinvigorated him.

He used both hands and revealed more and more of her brown from under her white panties. He combed his fingers through her bush then over her lips and clit. She closed her eyes as he slipped two fingers into her, swirling them around and in and out at a delicious pace. She was ready.

Abbie held him and stroked lightly. He was ready.

He pulled his fingers out of her. She shifted her hips slightly under his for entry.

“Wait,” he whispered the first word either of them had spoken.

She searched his face.

“What?” she whispered back. He changed his mind, she thought. He couldn’t go through with it. Shit. Moving too fast? She let go of his bare skin… we should use a condom…

“Just wanna look at you.” Those words sounded exactly how she heard them in her head when she read them.

He hovered over her for what felt like an eternity. He studied the coils of her hair, her smooth skin, noticed the way her eyes’ focus darted back and forth to his right eye and his left. There was no turning back from the beautiful woman lying underneath him. His body twitched against her opening. The heat from her body taunted him. His arms were tense from holding himself over her.       

He finally pushed into her. Her warmth surged across the base of his spine and sent a charge down the back of his legs to the soles of his feet. Neither broke their intense gaze. She fought the urge to close her eyes as he eased in deeper. The faintest gasp escaped her. They were finally skin-to-skin.

Lay Your Hands On Me

There was a knock on the door. Morgan was instructed not to ring the buzzer. He rose from his chair wearing a white undershirt and dress pants, belt and button undone, and opened the door.

Morgan stood there; her folding massage table nearly touched the ground as it hung over her shoulder. His 6-foot tall, blond fantasy was shattered. Morgan stood five-foot-three because of the shoes she wore that day. She was brown skinned and curvy.

“You look nothing like I imagined.” Tim said.

“I never do,” she walked past him into the penthouse. Her scent was intoxicating as it wafted past him. He shut the door and she turned to face him, smiling. Morgan’s smile disarmed him instantly. He ran his eyes all over her body. Her jeans hugged her small waist and full thighs. When he took a second look at her chest he could see she wasn’t wearing a bra. If the straps of her tank top were to fall off her shoulders, he’d have full view of her full breasts.

“You’re cute,” he concluded. His semi-erection was tingling already.

“But not what you imagined.” He shook his head slowly, suddenly aware that he may have offended her. “I never tell my clients what I look like. I let them take whatever they want from my voice and my name. When they meet me, if I fit their fantasies, so be it. If not, I’ll fulfill new ones.” She flashed that smile again, this time with a hint of mischief. She had been in this situation before. Tim Dominick was like a lot of Morgan’s other high-end clientele. They think they’re supposed to be attracted to a certain type—the runway model, the NFL cheerleader or the 40-year old botox queen. They could never seem to figure out why their dicks got hard at the sight of Morgan. They wanted to be the ones to make her smile that smile after they’ve made her come a few times. They wanted to be the ones to come all over her ass. With that in mind, she turned her back to Tim and walked farther into the penthouse. He watched her ass just like she wanted.

“Is this a good spot?” she asked.

“Yeah...” he snapped out of his leer and started to head over to her to help with the massage table. “Yeah, sure. You can set up there.”

One, two, three, the massage table was set up and she turned to him again. “I usually massage my clients in the nude,” she said deliberately, her eyebrows raised.

“Really...?” he stood close enough so he could inhale her scent again. It wasn’t a perfume he was familiar with but he would be from now on. He leaned in and took a long whiff at her neck. Morgan could smell the cognac he had as an appetizer. She didn’t know where this massage was going to go. She’d done everything from sports massages, happy endings, to three-hour full-service sessions—if the price was right.

She slipped out from between Tim and the massage table and walked around to the opposite side.

“In the nude, Mr. Dominick.”

He chuckled when he realized he would be the only one nude. His dick mocked his foolishness with a twitch that almost made him catch his breath. He wished it wouldn’t be that way. He knew her nipples weren’t pink, but he wanted to see them anyway. If she sported pubic hair, and not a smooth Brazilian wax, it was black, coarse and curly like the hair on her head and he wanted to play in it. Tim wanted the sound of his hand spanking her ass to echo throughout his penthouse.

All Morgan could see was his face as she held up the towel. From Tim’s vantage point it looked like she was wearing a terry cloth face veil. They never took their eyes off one another while he got undressed.

“They need to make dick cradles on these tables too.” Tim tucked his semi-hard dick between his legs before lying down on the table. Morgan draped the towel over his ass.

“Actually,” he raised his head so Morgan could hear him, “You can start with my ass.”

“Anything you want, Mr. Dominick.”

He had told her time and time again to call him ‘Tim’ and she wouldn’t. He liked her stubborn nature. Or it was more like disobedience. He would be sure to reward her for it financially. Morgan removed the towel from his ass. She poured massage oil into her hands and held it there to warm it up before placing her hands on him. Her hands were small and soft. He couldn’t see, but was turned on by the vision in his mind’s eye, the contrast of her brown feminine hands on his chalky masculine ass.

It wasn’t until the massage was well underway that he realized he hadn’t turned on any music. It was silent but for the ticking clock and his breathing. He had a surge of insecurity that he tried to quiet by talking.

“So, how long have you been doing this?”

“Twenty minutes,” Morgan answered.

“I meant how long have you been giving massages?” Tim clarified unnecessarily.

“I started when I was 23.”

“And now you’re...” Tim dragged out the words waiting for Morgan to fill in the blank.

“Older.” Tim’s back heaved as he chuckled. Morgan would maintain the mystery. When she was ready to create a bond with him she would, on her terms.

Tim watched her feet through the face cradle as she shifted her weight and worked out the obsessions he carried in the muscles of his back. His skin drank up the oil. His imagination took off as he envisioned her feet in those Converse sneakers. His 6-foot tall, blond Morgan’s toes were long like her body with hot pink nail polish. The Morgan of his reality would look best with deep maroon nail polish, complementing her dark brown toes. That color combination made him think about chocolate-covered cherries. He had to see her in a pair of thong sandals and deep maroon thong underwear to match. He shifted his weight as his dick reacted to the thought of her ass swallowing the thong in one gulp.

“Can I see your feet?” the question escaped him on a breath.

“Yes you can, Mr. Dominick.” She continued to massage him while standing at his head. She made no attempt to fulfill his request.

“May I see your feet, Morgan?”

“Yes, you may.” She stepped on the back of one sneaker with the other and slipped her foot out. Then she stepped out of the other sneaker. She worked her stripped tube socks off. Her toenails weren’t colored but they sported a coat of clear nail polish. Her feet were flat and her toes looked strong, not too long, not too short, but just right for a footjob.

Morgan wiggled her toes before walking her body and hands down his body back to ass. “I have a question for you, Mr. Dominick.”

“Ok, sure.”

“This penthouse...Do you live here all by yourself?”

“Yes and no. I don’t live here full-time and when I am here, I’m never alone,” the suggestive tone of his statement was more for his excitement than hers. But he hoped it would excite her anyway.

“You’ve had other women here?” The tone of her voice was apprehensive, her expression was smug confidence.

“How does that make you feel?”

“Jealous.” That answer was the farthest thing from the truth but Tim was the kind of man who needed his ego stroked more than his dick, that much she knew.

She squeezed and separated his ass cheeks and it sent a deep pulsing through his belly. “You play with those other women?” Morgan ran her hands from the back of his thighs, up and over his ass again.

“I do.”

“Do they play with you?” Morgan slipped her finger through the silver ring and wiggled his butt plug. Tim was a man who had top-of-the-line taste. Morgan took a quick glance around Tim’s penthouse and the butt plug was no surprise. He didn’t skimp on watches or cuff links and his time with Morgan would run him four-figures. He spared no expense on backdoor tools either. She could tell it was a stainless steel, heavy model that cost almost a grand and she was thumping it against his drum when she jostled it.

Morgan controlled him by the ass. “I...play... They usually don’t. It’s hard...” He had to stop to take two labored breaths, “phew...” he swallowed hard, “to find someone to play. Sometimes.”

“That’s unfortunate.” The pulsing deep inside him hit a place full of loneliness. “You should really find someone who doesn’t scare easily.” She stopped playing with his toy. His dick was so hard but there was no where for it to go. Her little fingers grazed his balls and he wanted more.

“Can I turn over?” he asked.

She considered giving him another grammar lesson but had sympathy for the man who was getting uncomfortable lying on his stiffness. “Of course.” She stopped rubbing his ass. He missed her touch already. Tim flipped over onto his back and saluted her with all his glory. For a split second he was self-conscious as he watched Morgan look at his body. Were his almost-six inches enough? He didn’t want to believe the stereotypes but he could only imagine the big black dicks she was used to handling or riding or sucking with her thick lips. This massage could end right now and she could climb on the table and ride him till they both exploded.

"Double Penetration" was originally included in the mini ebook, Exhaust Pipes

Double Penetration

She loved to sit at the end of the bar in her favorite bistro when they had the sliding garage door open. It afforded her a great view of the neighborhood comings and goings. She kept an eye on the flirty waiter, fellow imbibers and the people strolling by on the street. The restaurant sat at one of the few five-corner intersections of the city. Not the Five Points, but close enough.

He headed back to his apartment after buying some fruits and veggies. His black tank top with the oversized arm openings revealed his nipples and muscular lats. He carried the signature light red plastic bags city folks are known to get from the Chinese or Korean fruit stand. His triceps flexed under the weight of his purchased produce.

She saw him.

He saw her.

She became oblivious to what her friend was saying. She spun completely around on her bar stool to watch him walk by. They eyed each other the entire time until they were out of eyeshot.

“You know him?” her friend asked.

“I want to.”

They locked eyes when he took a seat on the other side of the U-shaped bar. She did a better job paying attention to her friend this time but noticed he was only toying with his french fries and didn’t order a drink. He’d changed his clothes in the twenty minutes that passed since he walked by the restaurant. Less of his brown skin was exposed now that he wore a t-shirt. She had on a “laundry-day” outfit. There was nothing flattering about the clothes she wore that day.

He stepped outside to greet friends from the neighborhood that were walking by. Her friend excused herself to go to the restroom. With a few moments to herself she had a decision to make—speak now or forever hold her peace. He didn’t lose sight of the reason he came to the bistro. He noticed she was now alone at the bar. She took a sip of her drink.

When he wasn’t looking, she watched as he wrapped up his tête-à-tête on the sidewalk. As he reentered the bar, she beckoned him with a come-hither. Her woman’s intuition was spot on about the American man of European design. He had indeed come back to the restaurant for her.

He did the gentlemanly thing and entertained the object of his desire and her friend that evening. He could wait a while longer to get her alone. He added to his stash of stolen glances at the bar with a stolen kiss from her after he walked the two ladies to the subway station. Their pairs of thick lips melded together. Her body softened in his arms imploring him to hold her tighter, press every inch of his body against hers. She descended the stairs underground on wobbly legs, high off his fumes. His kiss and embrace were intoxicating. She knew nothing about him but her body, her soul was already attached to his kindred spirit.

The kiss, the taste, the possibilities fueled feverish sexting. The pair made plans to see each other the following night. After dinner, he led her to his third floor apartment. He pressed her against the wall as they made out. His briefs were damp with excitement from grinding against her, feeling her nipples on his tongue, and him demanding her to tug on his hair.

“Turn around.”

She did.

“Put your hands over your head.”

Obeyed without question.

He tied her wrists together with her bra.

“Don’t move.”

She remained perfectly still.

She didn’t look over her shoulder to see what he was doing behind her despite how much the anticipation killed her. She sized up his apartment and reasoned she could make it to the front door in five bounding steps if need be and wouldn’t think twice of running out half-naked since it was the middle of the summer.

Truth be told, she didn’t want to go anywhere. He dropped to his knees behind her and pulled her hips away from the wall. He lifted her ass cheeks and introduced himself. He didn’t even stop to think about it. She stuck her ass out even more in reflex, bracing herself against the wall with her bound hands over her head. Her breathing quickened. His tongue never touched her pussy yet it was soaking and aching to be penetrated. Her knees buckled because of the passionate licks and swirls from his strong tongue. He held her up because her quivering legs couldn’t hold her steady. She didn’t move her hands from over her head to wipe the tear of pleasure that streamed down her cheek.

*  *  *

Read Two Way Threesome in its entirety here