Afterburn

“What’s that?”

“That we devour each other for a full hour before we fuck.”

“An hour?” I asked in shock. I’d eaten my share of pussy in my day, but never for an hour. “An entire hour?”

“Yes, an entire hour.” She sat up and started unbuckling my belt. “Now keep in mind that it means that I have to suck your dick for an hour; no matter how many times you come.”

“Shit! I might need some Viagra for this!”

We both laughed.

“Stand up,” Roxie said, climbing up on her knees as I obeyed and stood by my bed. She finished loosening my belt and began working on my zipper. She got my pants and boxers down and I stepped out of them as she began to stroke my shaft like a sister who knew what she desired. “Yardley…”

“Yes?”

“I have to warn you that I’m a woman with a strong sex drive. I’m not the same innocent, timid Roxie you knew in high school who was afraid to give it up. The one who was afraid to experiment. Now, I’m all about experimenting.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said as a wide ass grin spread across my face. Not only was the woman I’d always fantasized about in my bedroom, she was a straight-up freak. No man could possibly ask for more.

She fingered herself and placed her index finger up to my lips and slipped it inside so I could savor her flavor again.

“I’m serious, Yardley. I’m trying to have the real deal with you this time. I’ve been out there, in that meat market, dealing with trifling ass Negroes who only want to get themselves off. Women need to cum, too, and I’m not trying to play any more games. I need one man, a man who can fulfill my every desire, whenever and wherever. You feel me?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m definitely feeling you. Roxie, you don’t have to worry about a thing. After what happened that night at my party, when you saw that hooker the guys had hired, I was devastated.”

“So was I. Like I said, I was planning on making it a special night. Instead, all I got was a broken heart.”

“Roxie, I’m so sorry about that but—”

“Shh…” She held her pussy-scented finger up to my lips and I drew it in, licking her essence off of it. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone makes mistakes and after growing up, I can understand how a boy your age would go for it.”

I felt horrible as the memory of the expression on her face flooded back into my mind. If not for the fact that she went back to stroking my dick, I might’ve lost my erection and that would’ve been a shame because I could’ve knocked a ball out the park with the one I was sporting at that moment.

“You’re right,” I whispered. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“Let’s not,” she agreed. “It’s time for some serious fucking.”

Six hours later, after we were both spent, and I was in awe of myself for hanging that long, we drifted off to sleep. I was happy, Dick was exhilarated, Roxie appeared sated, and Rayne Waters was a distant memory. I had finally snagged my Mrs. Right.

Eleven

Rayne

Three Months Later

The praise service was off the hook. People were stomping their feet, falling down on their knees, and doing the jig in the aisles between the pews. I thought Southern churches were off the hook, but Great Mount Bethel Holiness Church was the ultimate religious experience.

They didn’t simply have the traditional organist. They had an entire band: two electric guitarists, a horn section, a keyboardist, and a drummer. What a drummer he was, too.

The first Sunday Chance and I attended service, I was so busy looking at him that I couldn’t even remember what the sermon was about. He was tall, about six-two, with blue-black skin and black eyes that looked like opals. He had on a neatly pressed white dress shirt that complemented the darkness of his skin and a pair of navy dress slacks. I’d heard that church was a good place to meet men. The sisters never lie.

After church, Chance and I introduced ourselves to the pastor, Reverend Tom Russell. He looked ancient, about eighty, but had more energy than the two of us put together when he shook our hands in the line of churchgoers exiting through the front door.

Chance and I spent the rest of the afternoon at my apartment, watching football of course. I was the main one watching it. Chance fell asleep on the floor after she’d stuffed herself with the leftover chicken fajitas I’d cooked the night before. I had no business fixing them. Onions, peppers, and mushrooms don’t agree with me. In fact, you could say they hate my guts. They definitely put a hurting on them. However, like most people, the things I shouldn’t succumb to are the ones I can’t live without.

When we returned to church the next week, I had this tremendous sexual fantasy about the drummer. I know it was wrong, but I could envision him ripping my clothes off right there on the altar and wearing my coochie out. Sitting there in the pew, listening to the choir praise the Lord, I had an intense orgasm. My toes curled up in my suede pumps. My eyes started fluttering around in my head. I balled my hands up into fists. It was so much of a shock that I started weeping.

Chance leaned over to whisper in my ear. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you crying?”