Mom and I were in Emma's—my aunt and Mom's youngest sister—apartment dining room, sitting across from one another at the square rustic pine dining table. Aunt Emma was in the kitchen, fixing Mom and herself some coffee, and some ginseng tea for me. We were there at my suggestion, after Mom had informed me that of all of her siblings, Aunt Emma had been the most open-minded when it came to my Mom's former career in...
I am going to fuck him, I thought, standing in the doorway of my big brother's dark bedroom. I watched him lie there, sleeping, basking in the cool, pale moonlight that spilled through the large square window above his queen-sized bed. I bit into my bottom lip. My tongue ached to explore every inch of his chocolate skin, taut over chiseled muscle. His years of football playing had blessed him with a magnificent bo...
"I just don't get it, man. I've been married eleven years and the sex couldn't be better," I said, making a careful right turn in my deep red Camry. I was giving Chase, work buddy and partner in crime, a ride home. We'd been talking about marriage, and its remarkable ability to kill the excitement in a couple's sex life. Throughout the conversation, Chase had seemed to be referencing his own marriage. "Did yo...
"I might rent some movies tonight. Anything you're interested in seeing?" Mom asked as I appeared in the kitchen door way, flipping through a gossip magazine. She appeared to be only half-interested in its pages. She sat in the living room, shifting slightly in her place on the loveseat. "Probably anything with Adam Sandler in it," I replied, drying my hands with a hand towel—I had been in the middle of wash...
And there she was, standing majestically in the threshold of a cubicle, idly conversing with some girl behind a desk who should have been working, but had called over the Goddess carved of mahogany to make smalltalk. Her name was Kendra Coleman, or as I liked to call her, the Office Deity. The late-afternoon sunlight spilling through the office's floor-to-ceiling windows only enhanced her ethereal beauty. I d...
"Oh God, he is so funny!" I watched my mother sit primly—a thick, creamy thigh crossed over the other—in a huge leather recliner that my pop had left behind. She was watching her favorite television show, some corny sitcom on the Lifetime channel, giggling her little heart out at the effeminate male character on the plasma screen. When she laughed, her large, natural breasts jounced slightly behind her blue t...
My husband had finally packed all of his things, and was now standing at the front door, staring at me from behind dark sunglasses. His mouth was a straight line, tight, his eyebrows drawn together. I wasn't sure if he'd been angry or feeling regret. I couldn't have cared any less at that point. I just wanted him to walk out of that door, and hopefully out of my life. He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a h...
Michael was nervous. Really nervous. His eyes kept darting toward the wall clock above his television—9:57. Zaria was scheduled to arrive in three minutes. She'd probably arrive some time after, though. It'd make her appear less desperate, perhaps. It only made Michael more nervous. His almost didn't notice his knee bouncing. A pang of regret shot through him. He'd met Zaria through an adult personal websit...
Deidre Simmons gets a lot of attention in the office. A lot of . . . inappropriate attention. It's not uncommon for her to find a pair of amorous eyes zoned in on her tits or ass, or have a superior whisper something in her ear that would have him out on his ass faster than he could blink. But it doesn't bother her, either. In fact, she welcomes it—revels in it, and will even get a little piqued when someone ignore...
