Authors: Cairo
Tags: #Fiction, #Erotica, #General, #African American, #Contemporary Women
Man Swappers (2 page)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Whew, what can I say? Two-and-a-half-years (and six books later) and this journey is slowly evolvin’ into a movement. The Cairo Movement—lovers of great sex and hot, steamy, juicy reads by ya boy! Books flooded wit’ the kinda sex scenes that’ll set ya drawz on fire and keeps peeps horny; that keeps ’em on edge, and keeps ’em wantin’ to fuck ’n suck! Yes, the movement is here! Let’s keep embracin’ the sexual revolution, responsibly and respectfully, and flyin’ the freak flags high!
To my publicist, Yona Deshommes at Simon & Schuster: Your continued belief and support keeps ya boy on rock! And I love it when you crack that whip (inside joke)!
To the beautiful Allison Hobbs: You, my sweet, sexy vixen-friend, have made this journey more “Scandalicious” than I could have ever imagined. Real talk, I am honored to be in such great company and more proud to call you a true friend, baby!
To the Facebook Beauties and Cuties who splash their sweet, sticky cream up on my wall; and to the other lovers of the Cairo Juice (new and old), who continue to crave more of the heat wit’ each sip: Thank you, thank you, thank you! On some real ish, I ’preciate YOU ridin’ this wave wit’ me!
A special shout-out to all the Beauties who tuck their men in at night, read ’em a few lines from one of my books as bedtime stories,
then climb up on top of ’em and slay ’em down into the mattress: Now that’s the kinda sexiness that keeps me nuttin’ on myself. Thanks for the luv!
I continue to get mad luv from the ladies who read my books, but I am also startin’ to get more dudes checkin’ for my work as well; that’s wassup! So it’s only right I shout out some of the fellas who’ve hit me up and shown me luv: Eli Anderson, Mike Holmes, Kevin Jackson, Markeith D. Brown, Sr. (even though you get read to at bedtime—LOL), Charles Turnage, Shamar out in the ATL, BonaFide Beatz in Milwaukee, Calvin Andrews, Jeffery Roshell, Charles Carlos Carroll, Megel Sherman, and many others: Thanks, my dudes!
To all my peeps who come thru and chill wit’ me in chat on Tuesday nights on
Planetzane.org
: Thanks for keepin’ chat hot. I enjoy the vibe!
To everyone who continues to visit my website and blog (and who return for more doses of the juice): Thanks, and WelCum! And to the true members of
Cairo’s World
, you already know how it goes down. Thanks for keepin’ it real nasty wit’ me.
To Zane and Charmaine: Grazie! Merci! Gracias! No matter what language I say it in, I can’t begin to thank the both of you enough! Thanks for the mad luv!
And, last but not least, this acknowledgment wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t say wassup to the naysayers and undercover juice lovers who secretly crave to know what kinda nastiness I’m gonna write next. Deep down inside, you know I’m slowly becomin’ ya guilty pleasures. LOL. Don’t worry, I won’t tell ’em I got you nuttin’ on ya’selves if you don’t; just keep lickin’ them fingers while you spittin’ out the hate. Ya boy, ain’t goin’ anywhere!
One luv—
Cairo
Pleasure
CHAPTER ONE
M
y panties are wet and my body is hot and ready. I am so fucking horny watching my sister, Porsha, down on her knees sucking dick. I watch as she bobs her head back and forth, making swishy popping noises with her mouth as she slurps, gulps, and swallows the thick, eight-inch dick in front of her.
“That’s right, Sis,” I urge, grinning and sexily eyeing the six-foot-three, 220-pound, caramel-skinned stallion she’s kneeling before. He palms the back of her head, eyeing me back. My tongue traces my cherry red painted lips. “Throat that nigga’s dick, Passion. Rock his top, like Mommy taught you.” She swallows him down to the base, juggling his balls in her hand. “That’s my girl. You’re making Mommy so proud of you.”
Porsha, a.k.a. Passion, enjoys connecting with a man’s inner spirit, empowering him to be less inhibited. She encourages him to relax, relate, release and...enjoy the moment.
I thumb my nipples and they pop up like chocolate Hershey kisses, eager to be licked, suckled, and devoured by his hot, hungry mouth. But, tonight, there’ll be no touching. He is only allowed to look.
“You like looking at these pretty titties?” I ask him, seductively shaking them at him. I lift up my left breast and flick my
long tongue over my nipple. He pulls in his bottom lip. I switch to my right breast, then do the same thing. “You wanna suck these nipples?”
He groans. “Ohhh, yeaaaah, baby...aaaaah, fuuuuck...” I can tell Porsha’s head game is getting the best of him. He is straining to hold it together; struggling not to spill his creamy yogurt without permission.
“Motherfucker,” my other sister, Persia, barks, snapping her whip. “You better not cum until I tell you to. You understand me?”
“Yessssssss...uhhhh, shiiiit...”
My sister, Persia—a.k.a. Pain, is domineering and commanding. Tonight, she is the mistress of ceremony, if you will. She enjoys creating scenarios and role-playing almost as much as she enjoys administering pain. Although she’ll tell you,
quick
, that she is not a Sadomasochist, or a Dominatrix, she’s the one who enjoys wearing the latex and leather getups with six-inch pencil boots and red nail polish and lipstick, dragging men around by collars and chains. And you can see the gleam in her eyes every time she causes a man to whimper and beg.
And, then, there is me—Paris, a.k.a. Pleasure. I am turned on by watching my two sisters bring a man to his knees as much as I enjoy having him watching me pleasure myself. I enjoy seeing a man experience intimacy, and allowing him to fulfill his hidden carnal desires while connecting with his fantasies. I am the one who lets them watch me fuck myself with fingers or toys, or a combination of the two, wishing it could be them lost in between the slick folds of my pussy. It is in the knowing that he cannot touch, that he cannot smell, that he cannot taste, the essence of my womanhood—unless, I allow him to—that brings me the most pleasure. I enjoy seeing a man experience sensual and sexual gratification. And, it is within the dark confines of his mind
that my sisters and I transform deepest desires into flesh-to-flesh reality.
“Yes what, you sneaky motherfucker?” Persia barks, bringing my attention back to her. “Fucking your best friend’s sister, you nasty motherfucker.” She walks over to him and snaps a nipple clamp onto his left nipple.
He winces. And bolts of electricity shoot through my clit. “Aaaaah...yes, Mistress Pain.”
“You like watching his mother, don’t you? You like gazing at her big, wet pussy?”
Bitch, you wish. My pussy ain’t big
, I think, cuttin’ an eye at her. I smack the front of my pussy, then spread my lips so he can see for himself how tight it is.
He licks his lips. “Yes, Mistress Pain.”
“Tell your friend’s mother how pretty she is.”
Porsha sucks him ferociously, taking him all the way down in her throat while she smacks, pops and pinches her clit.
“Aaah, oh, shit...” he moans.
“Look at his mother,” Persia says, turning his face in my direction, “and tell the bitch what a sexy whore she is.”
The word
whore
slices through me. But I will play my position and let it go, for now.
“You real fuckin’ sexy, ma,” he says, gazing at me. He purposefully doesn’t call me a whore, knowing it will bring him delightful consequences.
She grabs him by the throat. Her nails sink into his jugular. He winces, then grunts. Porsha’s wearing his dick out, sucking it feverishly. “That’s not what I told you to say, you defiant little shit. I said to tell her she’s a sexy whore.”
“Aaaah, shiiiiit...”
“You better not nut, you dumb fuck. Now say it.”
I force a grin. Continue in the fantasy, leaning back on my right forearm, using my left hand to massage my clit over my thin silk panties while staring at Persia. Despite my annoyance that she is forcing him to call me a whore, I am still in awe at how well she flips into script and dominates, manipulates, and controls men. She is wearing a crotchless latex cat suit with cut-out breasts. Her chocolate nipples poke out like sweet pieces of double-coated chocolate malt balls.
He repeats her words, and she lets go of his throat, mushing him in the face. I can see the imprint of her nails embedded in his skin. He keeps his eyes locked on me, biting down on his bottom lip.
“You like fuckin’ your friend’s sister’s throat?” Persia asks, clamping his right nipple. He snaps his eyes shut, pulling in a deep breath. “Open your eyes,” she says, stepping up on the footstool near him and sticking her tongue in his ear. She bites down on his earlobe. Repeats the question; tells him to keep his eyes locked on me as I part my shapely legs so he can see my swollen petals around the crotch of my panties.
“Yes, Pain, baby. Her throat feels so fuckin’...aaah, shit... good.”
Persia walks over to the table, draped with a black tablecloth, and grabs a wooden ruler. She walks back over to Emerson. But tonight he is being called Sammie—this is what he has asked for. To be a horny teenage boy who sneaks into a window to get his dick sucked by his friend’s sister while he watches their mother masturbate. I am the mother who walked in on them, then started watching and playing with myself. A role I happily oblige. Persia glides the ruler over his muscular ass. She traces his ass cheeks with it, runs the edge of it down the crack of his ass, then without warning she whacks him with it. He flinches. She whacks
him again, and again. Then, like a razor, she slowly slides it up his ass crack before lighting his ass on fire.
“You wanna nut, don’t you, you nasty little fucker?”
“No, Pain. Only if it is pleasin’ to you.”
I moan, listening to the smacking sounds of Porsha’s dick sucking. “That’s right, suck the shit out that fat dick. Suck him how Mommy showed you.” I let out a girlish giggle, then grind on my hand. “You have my pussy soooooo wet,” I moan again, gazing at Emerson. “Sammie, you wanna smell my wet panties while you fuck my daughter’s nasty little throat with your dick?”
“Yesssss...” he moans.
“You wanna taste ’em?”
He groans, then grunts, nodding his head as Porsha pulls his cock from out of her mouth and begins to coat it with a glob of spit. She jacks him off, then slowly starts sucking on his balls. “Aaaaah, yeah, baby...just like that...”
I lift my legs up in the air and slowly peel off my panties. I spread open my legs; give him a visual of what he can’t have. His eyes widen as he drinks in the loveliness of my freshly shaven pussy. It greets him with glistened lips, smiling at him. He watches as I dip one finger, then two, in and scoop out my juices. I slip my fingers into my mouth and gently suck on them. When I have cleaned my fingers of my cream, I part my pussy lips and allow him to swallow in its pink center, lush and slippery.
I love my pussy. No, seriously...I adore it. The way it looks; the way it feels; the way it smells; the way its muscles constrict and contract—gripping and tugging at a finger, or tongue, or a neat little battery-operated gadget—when being teased, taunted and toyed with. Oh, how I love the way my cunt drips with its own sweet, sticky, delectable honey as it whines and begs and pleads for a deep fucking by a deliciously thick, pulsating cock.
Too bad—for him, tonight, there will be no fucking...by choice.
Emerson, uh Sammie, lets out another moan, keeping his eyes glued to my weeping pussy. He knows my cunt cries for his touch. Knows it begs for his thrusts. And I see the yearning in his eyes to give it what it needs, wants, and craves—his tongue, his fingers, his thick, veiny dick!
Porsha slides a hand between her legs, rapidly smacks her pussy and pops her clit a few times while throating Emerson’s cock.
Persia removes his left nipple clamp, then twirls her tongue around it. She flicks her tongue over it, then nibbles on it before moving over to his right nipple and doing the same thing. I know she is about to allow him to bust his nut. And he knows it, too. She walks in back of him, drops down and starts nibbling and biting on his swollen ass cheeks. She kisses and licks where she has bruised. I watch as she parts his ass open, then runs her tongue in his crack.
“Oh, fuck...goddamn...y’all freaky-ass bitches fuckin’ my head up...”
“Did I tell you to speak, you dirty, little maggot? Do you want me to paddle your tight ass until he bleeds?”
“No, Pain.”
“Then you speak when spoken to. You understand?”
“Yes, Pain.
“Muhfucka,” Porsha says, stroking his dick, “you can say what you want. You know you ain’t ever gonna find another set of fly, freaky bitches like us who’ll fuck you stress free. So you better shut the fuck up and ask Pain if you can feed us your nut.”
“Pain, baby, may I have permission to bust this nut?”
Persia stops what she’s doing. “You think you deserve to cum, you naughty little fucker?” she asks, smacking him on the ass again.
“Yes, Pain.”
She walks around to the front of him, grabbing him by the neck, then pulling him into her and forcefully kissing him. I rapidly finger myself. My pussy explodes, watching him greedily suck the scent of his ass off of Persia’s tongue. She pulls back from him. “You like how your ass tastes?”
Porsha wets his dick with more spit, then slips it back into her hungry mouth.
“Aaaaah, shit...”