Making the Hook-Up (3 page)

He put his mouth on her clit. He felt her inhale his dick into her mouth.

“Ohhhhh,” he said.

“Uuuuuuhhh,” she said.

“This is the best kiss ever,” he said.

“Your dick tastes so good. It's so fucking big,” she said. “Uuuuuuhhh.”

“I told you it was big,” he laughed. Lapping at her cunt. Her sweet-smelling cunt.

“Almost as big as my husband's,” she laughed.

“Bitch,” he said, lapping at her cunt with a fervor. Sliding a finger into that slippery hole. Sliding toward that special spot. Finding it. Rapid rubbing now. Expert licking now. Lap that clit. Rub the basement of that pussy. Rub faster. Two fingers now. Rub faster. Harder.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh shit, uh shit, like that, like that, uh shit, uh, uh watch out, watch out,” she warned. Shaking her thighs. Trying to rub her thighs together. “I'm gonna cum. I cum wet. You better move your face. I cum wet.”

Despite her warning, he rubbed. Rubbed faster. Pressured that clit. He felt her body clench. Knees came up. Stomach tightened. She gum-vised his dick.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh, there it is, there it is, baby, uh, uh, uh, I'm embarrassed. Uh, uh, uh. Uh, shit.”

Her body convulsed. He pulled back and watched with delicious delight as her pussy gushed its river onto the satin sheets of the hotel bed.

She howled. She laughed.

She twisted and rolled. She crawled over him. Kissed his
chest. His muscular arms. His neck. His face. She grabbed his mouth with her lips.

He grabbed her ass. She grabbed his dick. Got on it.

Began to ride.

It was some kiss. It was some ride.

When he came, she said, “I want you on top.”

She gave him a half hour to rest, then she positioned herself on the bed and he climbed over. It was another live fuck. He fucked her like a bull. She bucked like a bronco. He fucked her until she soaked the sheets again.

When he came, she said, “I want to do doggy-style.”

“Hold on, baby,” he laughed. “Gotta rest up.”

“Well, hurry up,” she laughed. “I have to get home soon. I have a husband, you know?”

After his rest was over, she got up on her hands and knees and pushed her delightful booty against him. His dick was having slight technical difficulties.

“Shit,” she said, turning. “Give him here.”

“I can do it,” he said, jacking it like a long wet rope. “I can do it.”

She laughed. “Give him here.”

She took his dick into her mouth. Sucked. It helped. Somewhat. She shoved a finger up his ass. His eyes rolled.

She grinned. “See? I always get mine.”

It was erect, and he got behind her and did his business, and he did it well.

Her pussy was slopping wet. He reached and grabbed a handful of her hair. He did that for about a hundred strokes. Then he reached and grabbed a handful of tiddy in each hand.

She screamed, “Uh, uh, uuuuuuuhhhh, you're the best, you're the best, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, you're making me cum,” all the way through it.

When it was done, she said, “I know what you want.”

“I want to rest.”

She laughed. Reached down and grabbed his dick. She sang it now: “I know what you want.”

He sang back, “I want to rest.”

She jacked his long soft dick. “I know what you want. I know. I know.”

“Baby, you are killing me. I'm only human.”

“I know you want my ass. You want to fuck me in the ass. It is the curse of the woman with the big booty. Everybody wants to fuck her in the ass.”

That ass. Docta Love felt a chill course through him.

She felt his dick grow rock hard in her hand.

“Well, I wasn't gonna ask you, but since you brought it up,” he said.

She rolled over on her stomach. She still had his rock-hard dick in her hand. He got up on his knees. His hands were on her asscheeks, spreading them. Lubricating the hole with his hungry wet mouth. Probing, first, with a wet finger.

“Just be gentle,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Don't make it hurt too much.”

“Okay.”

“I trust you. I trust you.”

“God, you gotta big ass.”

“Oh, god.”

“Big ass.”

“Ouch. Ouch. Oh, god. Ouch. Ow. Ow. Ow. Oooohhhhh.”

“Don't clinch up. Yeah, like that.”

“Ooooohhhh.”

“Like that. Relax.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay. That's okay. That's good. That's okay.”

“Yeah. Relax.”

“Ooooohhhh. Mmmmmmm.”

“Like that. See?”

“Mmmmmmmmmmm.”

At the end of the night, when the dealer came out of the shower and slipped back into her undergarments, all of her lips were quite worn out, so to speak, from “the kiss.”

She dressed wordlessly as he watched her from the bed. His black Stetson rested on a pillow. One of his socks was on the other pillow. The rest of his clothes were all over the room.

She was at the door clutching the last of the money in her fist, fifteen hundred dollars. She looked down at the money as she stood there at the door. Docta Love was worn out, but he had enough sense to know that he had to get up and go to her.

He went to her and put his arms around her. She smelled nice. She felt so good. She was beautiful. Beautiful little PR. He lifted her face and kissed her.

“What are you thinking?” he said.

“I had a good time.”

“Me too.”

“You're a good kisser,” she joked.

“You too.”

“I need to get home now.”

“Yes. To your family. To your man.”

They kissed again. She was not moving, so he kept holding her. Kissing her.

“What are you thinking?” he said.

“Nothing,” she said. “I guess I'll see you around the casino.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I'm a gambler. It's what I do.”

She touched his face. “Kiss number three was a good kiss.”

“The best kiss of all.”

“I'm glad I did it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He kissed her again.

Then he blew a kiss after her as she left the room.

As she left the room, she was thinking,
I should have told him the truth. He hit my spot. He rocked it. I think I could love him. I should have told him the truth: I have no children and I am not married. I have a boyfriend, sort of, but he does not count because I know he's still sleeping with his ex. I don't have my own house. I still live with my parents, but their bathroom is a mess, and I can't wait to see the looks on their faces after I remodel it. Gothic mirrors. Italian tile. I am going to hook it up for them.

And as he went back to lie down on the mess they had made of the bed in the anonymous hotel room, Docta Love was thinking,
Jesus, what a beautiful girl. That had to be the livest pussy I ever had. If she wasn't married, I would be all over that. Why is it the good ones are always married? Her husband is one lucky dude, going to bed with her every night. I hope he appreciates what he's got. It's gonna be a while before I get this one outta my system. Lord, Jesus, it's gonna be a while.

 

 

 

 

 

J
anice glanced around. Touches of gold paint accented the white ceiling molding—a nice idea for her own apartment. If she could have stolen that framed Greek garden print bolted above the desk, she would. Who likes hotel room pictures? Nobody. But this one was lovely.

She looked down at Derek. Though still asleep, he stretched his body, causing his strong chest to rise a little and then lower. The sheet covered the bottom half of him. Janice wanted to pull it down and take another look.

She studied his face, dark brown, with the longest lashes she had ever seen. He looked peaceful sleeping next to her. That's how she would describe it, peaceful.

She positioned herself more comfortably against the headboard and tried to block out yet another image of her husband. Charles would kill her if he knew.

Nevertheless, a slight smile crept onto her face. She looked over at the mahogany desk that sat next to the plush baby blue chair. Those would look great in her apartment, too. Her own
apartment, with her own pictures and her own furniture—and no Charles.

Janice placed her hand on Derek's chest, which was smooth, with barely any hair. He opened his eyes, which startled Janice and made her pull her hand back.

“Hey, girl!”

“Hey, yourself.”

He turned toward her. She lowered herself down, facing him. There was no hesitation as she placed her arms around his frame. He pushed in closer to her and put his lips on her neck, kissing it. The scent she had splashed on her body last night now mixed with the lingering smell of sex and male musk.

Derek was built, every muscle developed. Yet his skin was as soft as the butter rolls she loved to bake. His cock, large and stiff, poked her leg. She reached down and grabbed it.

“Mmmm…you tryin' to start something?” he whispered.

“Maybe.”

He put his lips on one of her large breasts, drawing the nipple into his mouth, then licking it slowly. Janice closed her eyes.

Another image of Charles invaded her thoughts, and his face was right there. But it faded as Derek's strong tongue traveled to her other breast.

Charles had grown fond of calling Janice lazy in the last couple of months. It was in addition to the other names he had for her: fat, stupid. “You're too stupid to leave me,” he'd say.

It was no secret how unhappy she was. And there were many times when she could have made a break, but she didn't. She stayed and took it, like the victim of a schoolyard bully.

Charles would glare at her, the lines on his caramel-colored face deep with frustration. “Go get me a beer.” “Get your ass in the kitchen and make my dinner.” “Who are you talking to? Get off the damn phone.”

Sometimes he called her “tired looking.” But behind those steel gray eyes, she knew he really saw her as ugly and fat.

Fifteen months. That's how long it had been since she and Charles had had sex. And even before that, the spontaneity and freshness that they knew before was gone.

The ladies at the boutique convinced her to buy the red negligee. Charles liked red and the color worked well with her copper skin tone. They told her looking sexy helped a marriage.

When she put it on and joined Charles in bed, for a moment, there was sparkle in those gray eyes. But not even an hour later, it was gone.

Derek brought his face to Janice's. His long lashes framed big brown eyes that were full of lust and desire for her. He kissed her slowly at first, but Janice increased the speed, moving her lips faster and darting her tongue in and out of his mouth.

Janice had been friends with Nita as far back as first grade. She was her closest friend and they talked about everything. Consequently, Nita knew all about her relationship with Charles and the lack of sex. Nita had said fifteen months was too long. Way too long. And she had been right.

“You kiss good,” Janice said.

“Derek is here to please, baby.”

“Just keep doing what you're doing. Keep doing that.”

“Ask for what you want,” Nita had advised her. “It's your body.”

It was her body. And right now her body felt damn good. Now Derek's tongue was firmly against her stomach, soon to explore even lower.

Janice closed her eyes again. Right now, right here, she was happy.

But it was not so long ago that it took everything in her power just to get out of bed in the morning. When she finally managed
to lift herself out, it was only to avoid Charles's wrath, which usually came anyway.

“Get your ass in the kitchen and make my dinner.”

Charles had insisted she quit her job once they married, better to be home with the children. But children never came.

She'd sit at the kitchen table and stare out of the window, for hours, like a mental patient.

Friends would call, but she rarely answered the phone. Only Nita was brazen enough to come over, unannounced, forcing Janice to let her in.

If there was ever anyone who knew what she wanted out of life, it was Nita. Married, with two grown children, Nita worked as a psychiatrist with a successful practice in the downtown area. She lived in a home suitable for the pages of
Better Homes and Gardens
and she was fond of the sunflowers that she had planted in her backyard. She was tall, dark and proud, and soon Janice leaned heavily on her for the support she so desperately needed. Sometimes Nita's advice was so good that Janice felt like she should be paying her, like one of her patients.

One day Nita brought books over. “These will help you get your shit together,” she had said.

One book focused on gaining a positive attitude. Another book focused on diet and exercise. There was one on spirituality. Still another examined how to get rid of fear.
Do the One Thing You've Always Wanted to Do,
it was titled.

While she made Charles steak, fried potatoes and other high-fat foods that he ate every night in front of the television, she prepared separate meals of vegetables and lean meats for herself.

The diet books warned her that she'd have to exercise also. So in the mornings, after Charles went to work, she joined Nita as a guest at her health club.

Then, as the months went on, she enrolled in classes to obtain a degree as a court reporter, a job that had always intrigued her.