Man Swappers (10 page)

“Get that ass up in the air...” I slap his ass. Repeat myself. “...Get that ass up in the air like I told you...” He assumes the position, then arches his back. I smile, catching Porsha rolling her eyes. Paris moans. “Pull open that hairy ass.” He reaches around and spreads his muscular ass cheeks, buries his face deeper in between Porsha’s hips.

I grab my dildo at the base and beat it across his hole. He moans. “Yeah, you want me to fuck you, don’t you? You little nasty motherfucker.” I reach underneath him, grab his balls and squeeze them.

He moans.

“Oooooooh, shiiiiiit,” Paris moans, “watching y’all has me so fucking horny.”

I rub the shaft of the dildo across his hole. “You wanna grab Mommy’s dick with that tight ass of yours?”

He nods. I press the tip to his hole, then slowly push in. He
grunts; his head rapidly moving about between Porsha’s thighs. She moans. The more I inch into him, the deeper he pushes his gag into Porsha. The more aggressive he gets with her pussy, the louder she moans. For someone who takes issue with a man getting fucked, she seems to be enjoying everything he’s doing to her. As she always does. I glance over at Paris. Give her a look with my eyes, gesturing for her to look at Porsha’s horny ass. She grins.

“Does...it...feel good, Passion?” she asks in between her own moans.

“Mmmm, ohhhh, yesssss...” Porsha coos. “Ooooh, he has my pussy on fire. I wanna feel his dick in me.”

“You want him to fuck you with that fat, juicy dick?” Paris taunts, winding her hips and backing her ass up on the sex machine in back of her.

“You wanna fuck Passion?” I ask Damon. “You wanna feel how hot you got my sister’s pussy?”

He grunts again, nodding his head. I reach under him. Feel how hard his dick is. Feel how sticky and wet it is from the precum that oozes from its tip. My mouth waters with thoughts of licking it clean.

I have his ass pulled open as I remove the dildo. His hole is gaping. I smile. Tell him to keep probing Porsha’s cunt with the gag as I force his legs wider apart, then slide my head beneath him and take his dick into my mouth. His nectar is sweet. I lap at the head of his dick, then swirl my tongue over it, then slide back from underneath of him when I have gotten the last drop. I walk over to the closet to get a condom from the large assortment we have and return with a Durex Love condom. Not only is it thin and very easy to roll on, it’s long enough to handle all of his eight inches comfortably.

I hand him the condom, then remove the gag, tossing it across
the room. He tears the wrapper open, pulls out the condom, then rolls it on. He grabs Porsha by the hips and pulls her down closer toward the edge of the bed. I step back as he pushes her legs back over her shoulders and eats her pussy a few more times, before he works his dick into her. He strokes her in deep, rapid thrusts for a few minutes, then pulls out.

I pinch and slap at my nipples. The stinging excites me. I look over at Paris. Her eyes are shut tight. She is so caught up in her mechanical fucking that she is no longer paying us any attention.

“Get on ya knees, baby,” Damon tells Porsha. “I wanna hit this wet pussy from the back.”

She rolls over, gets on all fours, then reaches around and pulls open her ass. Her pussy lips poke out, pouty, wet, and full. He enters her.

“Ohhhhhh, yes...ohhhhh, shit the dick feels so good... mmmm...”

Patiently, I wait until he gets into a nice groove, rocking Porsha’s back out, then sidle up behind him. I lean into his ear. Nibble on his lobe. “You ready for Pain to fuck you, Daddy?”

“Ah, shit yeah...” He says, slapping Porsha on the ass. “Arch that back, baby. Ain’t no need to run from this dick.”

She cranes her neck. “Ain’t nobody running from shit, nigga. Fuck me...oooh...aahh, shitgotdamnmuthafuck...”

“Yeah, baby, take that dick...mmmm, nice wet pussy...”

I slip my middle finger into his ass, finger him slowly, then slide my index finger in. His hole is still slippery and loose from earlier. I slide back in.

“Whose ass is this?” I ask.

“Uhhh, fuck...” he grunts, lustfully gazing over his shoulder at me. I repeat the question, this time alternately slapping each cheek while grinding into him. “Oh, shit...yours, baby.”

“You want a
real
dick in you?” I ask, baiting him. Although I don’t believe he does, one can never be so sure; especially if you let Porsha tell it. She is so damn stuck on believing any man wanting ass play is gay, or on the down low. Paris’s eyes pop open. Persia snaps her neck in his direction, waiting and watching. His response, his body language will confirm her suspicions, or shoot them down.

He frowns, furrows his brows. “Fuck no. You know I don’t get down with no shit like that.”

I smile, pulling him into me by his neck, then lightly kiss him on the lips. I slip my tongue into his mouth, then pull back. I stroke him. He strokes Porsha. He moans. She moans.

“What’s my name?” I ask him.

“Mmmph...Pleasure.”

“No, nigga, wrong sister. What’s...”—I slam my rubber dick in him; grind my hips into his—“my...”—I pull it out, leaving only the head in, tip-drilling him—“name?”

My pussy is leaking.

He grunts.

Porsha grunts.

Paris grunts.

I stretch and pull open his ass cheeks as far as they’ll go. Watch my dildo glide in and out. Watch his tight hole slurp it in. I am so turned on by the sight. Oh how I love a man who submits every inch of himself to me. Sweat drips from my face, drops onto his back. I reach up under him, grab at his balls, then yank them. “What’s my name, nigga?”

“Pain,” he finally says, arching his back and clutching and clawing the sheets. “Aaaah, fuck, baby...ohhhh shit, baby...uhhh... you’re hitting that spot.” I continue my pace, deep stroking him. He bucks his hips into Porsha. I buck mine into him. Then pull
my—well, not mine, but you know what I mean—dick out to the head, tip drill him again, then plunge back into his loosened man hole. He chants over and over how I’m hitting his spot. Porsha chants how he’s hitting hers. The two of them are feeling the pressure building; his prostrate to her G-spot. I continue my pace. He continues his. I count my strokes. He counts his. I switch my rhythm. He switches his. He is focused on fucking the shit out of Porsha. I am determined to fuck the shit out of him.

Persia cranes her neck, looks back at him and me. A mixture of delightful pleasure and disgust etched on her face. She hates herself for loving this scene. “Aaaah, shit...oooh, the dick is good... beat my pussy up...”

I cut my eyes over at Paris who is now wide-eyed, looking up at us with her mouth slightly parted. She licks her lips.

“Tear...his...ass...up,” she encourages in between groans of pleasure. She is clearly in her own zone. She has sped up the thrusts and the machine’s arm is power-fucking her so fast it almost looks like steam is coming from out of her pussy. “Fuck... her...good, Damon...ooooh...”

She gasps as the machine’s fucking-arm slams in and out of her. Her head thrashes from side to side. Her eyes flutter and roll back in her head. Her body shakes.

Damon grabs Porsha’s hips, speeds his thrusts. “Oh shit...I wanna nut...oh fuuuuck...I feel it coming...”

“Nooooo,” Porsha whines. “I wanna suck your dick first, then let you nut all over my face.”

He pulls his dick out of her. I slowly pull the dildo out of him. We’re all sweating and panting. He yanks the condom off as Porsha quickly hangs her head over the side of the bed. Damon stands over her and feeds her his cock. He leans forward, plays with her clit while I pull open his cheeks and slide back in. I grind
my hips into him. He grinds his hips into Porsha’s face. She has his dick all the way down in her throat, reaching up and massaging his balls. She lightly squeezes them.

“Ohhhh...shiiiit...ohhh fuck...”

“You like this dick in you?” I ask him, knowingly. But I ask anyway because I like hearing the answer. I slap him on his ass again. He grunts, pulls his cock out of Porsha’s throat. She reaches between her legs and plays with herself. Damon’s tongue hangs outta the side of his mouth. He is panting like a puppy in heat. I pull out again, slowly rotate my hips and slide back in. Repeat the process three more times, then slam back into him. Slow grind. Tip drill. Slam. Slow grind. Tip drill. Slam.

Damon shudders; grunts again. “Uh...uh...uh...aaaaah... ooooh, fuuuck...”

Two minutes later, without hands, lips, or tongue on his cock, he shoots his nut over Porsha’s head; his cum splattering all over her stomach and titties. He smears his creamy dick over her lips. I watch on as she licks the head, then slips him deep into her mouth, sucking him back to life.

Paris
CHAPTER NINE

“Hello, Paradise Boutique?” I answer, folding a multicolored pile of designer tees.

“Wassup, Paradise? Can a brotha finally get your name?” the familiar voice asks. Against my will, I smile at the sound of his deep, sexy voice. “Or do I have to keep coming in droppin’ paper?”

“Sir, who’s speaking?” I ask, suppressing a giggle.

“Oh, here we go wit’ this. I’m the tall, dark, handsome bruh who came in and copped two expensive-ass pocketbooks for my moms. Don’t front like you don’t remember me, ma.”

“Mmmm, I don’t recall any man with that description coming in here,” I tease. “And we don’t call them pocketbooks. They’re handbags and clutches.”

“Yeah, aiiiight, Paradise. Let you tell it. But, let me come through and refresh ya memory.” The shop’s door opens. I crane my neck over my shoulder to see who is walking in and almost drop the phone.

“Oh, you,” I say, laughing.

He chuckles. “Yeah, okay. You remember me now?” He’s casually dressed in a pair of designer jeans and a short-sleeved red Polo shirt with its large white emblem. He has a matching red Yankees-fitted with white lettering pulled down over his eyes. His hood swagger is making my pussy overheat.

“Well, yeah,” I say nonchalantly, walking back over to the counter.
“Now I do. But you made a mistake and described yourself as handsome.”
But your ass is F-I-N-E!
“That was a bit ambitious, don’t you think?” I try to keep a straight face.

He laughs. “Yo, you got jokes, I see. Yeah, aiight. It’s all good. I’ll be ambitious.”

I smirk. “And so you should. And, what’s your name again?”

“Desmond. But, my peeps call me Dez. And yours?”

I grin. “I never told you my name, remember?”

He laughs. “Oh, damn. Right-right. So you gonna give it to me, or am I gonna have to keep comin’ through until you do?”

I smile, flirtatiously. “I guess you’ll have to keep
com
ing through.”

“Yeah, aiight. I like the sound of that.” He tells me is going to keep calling me Paradise until I tell him my name. The way he says it makes my pussy purr.
Lord, give me strength not to fuck this man right here in the middle of this store. Flush these whorish thoughts from my nasty-ass mind.
I smile to myself as he leans over onto the counter, his forearms resting on top, staring at me. “So what’s good,
Paradise?
What you like to do for fun?”

I like to fuck!
I eye him back. Take his presence in. Imagine him having a long, black dick—thick and veiny with a huge mushroom-head. Subconsciously, I slowly lick my lips, imagining they’re his dick. My mouth
and
pussy start to water. I shake my lusty thoughts out of my head. “Why, is this an interview?”

He smiles. “Could be.”

The phone rings as three customers walk in. “Saved by the bell,” I say, grinning. I answer. It’s a woman calling to see if we carry used Louis Vuitton bags. I tell her no. Tell her to call a consignment shop. She tells me that’s what she thought this was. I hang up, shaking my head. I excuse myself, then walk over to where the three women are. I can feel his eyes on me, studying the sway of my hips, counting the number of times my ass bounces
as I make my way over to them. I glance over my shoulder, catching him. He grins. I playfully roll my eyes. He watches as I help each woman select her items. Waits as I ring up their individual purchases, then smiles at me as they walk out the door.

“Now back to our conversation,” he says, glancing at his watch. “Let’s go chill somewhere. Grab a bite to eat and get better acquainted.”

“And how do I know you won’t take me somewhere and try to have your way with me?” I tease. Flirting with this man seems so natural. There’s something about him that I find...intriguing. Yeah, that’s it. He’s piqued my curiosity. I want to see him naked and stretched out.

He laughs. “Baby, I’d never do anything you don’t want me to. But, for now, I’m only interested in feeding you.”

I admit. I’m starved. But, I’m not sure if my hunger pangs are for food or for this delicious hunk of man standing in front of me.
They’re for both, bitch! Feed us!

“I like the sound of that. Where would you like to go?”

He shrugs. “It’s whatever. You tell me.”

The store phone rings, again. I tell him to give me a minute as I pick up. It’s Persia. “Paradise Boutique,” I answer out of habit. I take my key and lock the register.

“You wanna meet up for lunch?”

“Well,” I say, looking over at Mr. Sexy. He winks at me. “I have plans already.”

“Plans with whom?” she asks, being her usual nosey self.

I cover the mouthpiece of the phone. “Give me one second, and I’ll be ready to go.”

“It’s cool,” he says. “I’ll wait on you for as long as you need me to.” Innuendo drips from his tone. I smile, placing the phone back up to my ear.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” I say, walking to the back office.

“Well, I asked who you had plans with, then it sounded muffled.”

“I was with a customer,” I tell her, unlocking the safe, then placing the register key in. “Anyway, to answer your question, Miss Nosey-Ass, I’m meeting a business acquaintance out for lunch.” The lie quickly rolls off my tongue without much thought.
She doesn’t need to know anything about him,
I think, going into the bathroom to freshen up. Yes, I’m a grown woman capable of doing whatever I want, with whomever I want. Yet, as close as we are, I still feel the need to keep some things—like the sexy nigga waiting on me, from Persia—at least, for a while. I tell her my lunch date is with a young designer interested in having some of his one-of-a-kind designs in our boutique. She wants to know more. Wants to know where we’re going to eat. I tell her I am unsure. That’s the only truth to this whole conversation. I glance at the time. It’s twelve-thirty. I tell her I have to get going. Tell her we’ll talk when I get home tonight. Two minutes later, we hang up and I am walking back out to the front of the store with my handbag and keys.