BY THE KING OF EROTICA
COPYRIGHT @ 2007



It was the middle of July.

The Fourth just passed, and I had a blast on South Beach. People came from Atlanta, Savannah, Cali, Mississippi and beyond to celebrate with parties, sex parties and secret bisexual gatherings that'd blow your mind. I was there. I left my girl home and I told her i had to work late. My job was an hour away from my home. Even though she didn't live with me I still kept it jiggy.

Now I was drained. Partying all night, all that GreyGoose mixed with Coke and Henny. Weed. That California Crip Weed. I was moving boxes for Grandma when the door bell rang.


I answered it. It was one of the neighbors. Stella. She had a son named Diamante. I been wanting to buss that niggah's asshole open for months now. Real jiggy niggah, stay to himself, drove a BMW. He had a house and all, but spent almost all of his time with his moms.

"Sup, Stella."

She licked her lips, this jazzy 48 year old Airforce Vet. She did twenty years. Real articulate and picky. Her weave job was done up right and those tight leopard print pants grippign all that ass (being ate up in the front by that fat pussy) made my dick stand straight up. But thinking about fuckign her son overshadowed all of those thoughts.

"Sup, boy. You loking good." She kissed my cheek. I took her hand and kissed it. She smelled really good. She had on those Beyonce Green Light Stilletos.

"What brings you by?"

"Where's your Grandma?"

"In the kitchen. Rinsing off vegetables."

"I'm going to talk to her. I'll show myself in."


I was about to close the door when a little boy, about ten years old, hit my car with a foot ball.

"HEY!" I was pissed, running outside into the scorching sun and snatching his ass up. "Are you crazy! Don't hit my shit, you little bitch."

"I'm sorry."

"Who is your Mama? She g'on pay for my shit if I see a scratch."

He started to cry. I didn't care. I was about to wak his ass across the street to confront his parents when the huge UPS truck stopped in front of me and I seen the finest niggah in the goddamn world.

I was stuck.



I was talking (flirting) with

this dude named Manuel. He was about five feet three, tight little ass, sexy body and he was DownLo. I had seen his profile on Adam4Adam, the night I created an account. We talked for about three months, both of us too busy to hook or link up. He sent me pictures of that ass. Goddamn. He had a tight, pretty pink hole that had never seen any dick. I wanted to be his first, wear the ass out. Wax on. Wax off. But he was bi-curious, saying he never went all the way with a niggah. He sucked a little dick. Got his dick sucked. Jacked another niggah off. But he just couldn't bring himself to let a niggah beat. I wanted to be that niggah.

And since I was super DownLo I didnt put a picture up, which woulda enhanced my profile times ten, but honestly you enver know who's bowsing and checking you out. And the person might know your girl, your kids, your co-workers or your family. And you didn't need that drama.

I had on black coveralls, dirty. My cornrows, dropping to my shoulders, were jazzy with lint an dirt all in my head. I was aggravated and hot. I had just fixed Grandma's stopped up sink. I poured Dran-o down the sink and viola. Despite my brain ellign me otherwise, I didn't wanna let him know I was interested, but I knew I had seen his somewhere before. Grandma was upstairs, vaccuming her room, talking loud with Stella.

I signed for the package and when I really looked at him and saw the "BLAK" tattoo on his neck, like the guy on the website, I knew this really was him.

"SUP DAWG." I was a little excited. OK. Niggah. Bring. It. Down. A. Notch.

He smiled at me, real gangstah. He smelled good, looking good in his crisp UPS uniform ankle socks and Jordan sneakers. Movado watch. Huge chain wih the "U" emblem hanging just above the belly button. Huge diamond ssparkling in his ears. Gold grilled bottom teeth. It was hot as hell, trees rustling, traffic going to and fro. Ghetto life around grandma in full swing.

He sized me up. "Sup with you?" I set the package, moderate sized, on the lawn chair and shook his hand. I was set on fire when he touched me. But I hid it from my face. He looked me up and down. I noticed the wedding ring on his finger. Real cocky niggah. Swagger so mean I got jealous.

Gotta be gangstah. "I'm chllin. You're into meeting up with females online?"

He was smiling. "Yea, dawg. I love the hoes. Goin out with a tight lil' honey tonight." He was looking at his cell phone. "Well, gotta go."

GODDAMN CAN'T LET HIM GET AWAY. He spun on his heel and started down the mosaic tiled walk way. I was right behind him and when he got to the truck I was behind him, pressing my dick on his ass. "Sorry dawg. My bad." Electricity shooting up my spine, I took a few steps back. "UPS hiring?" I asked, trying to play it off. I made $95,000 a year. Fuck UPS, I didn't need them and they damn sure didn't need me.

He put the truck in gear. "Nah. But my ass is hiring. You get down?"

I smiled. "Yea. I do. You should know that."

He was turning the steering wheel, about to drive off. "Oh, yea?"

"I'm 'DownLo Niggah' from Adam."

He smiled so big it was crazy. "Oh, snap. I'm Deep Azzhole. Shit, niggah give me your number." He was about to lose his breath looking a my body. Yea it was tight work. I worked out three times a week, and I had dick, booty, and abs.

I hopped on the UPS truck, crawled across him and said, "Drive this big mofo to my house, like you got a delivery. And lemme get that ass." Once in the passenger seat, I reached up and disconnected the camera. It only came on anyways when you were in an accident or if you hit bumps inthe road while traveling.

"You ain't gotta tell me twice."

"Got a Jimmy?"

"I keep a Jimmy for my Johnson."

I was smiling. Letting him see my grill. "Jimmy Johnson ass niggah."

And we were off. I'll leave my car parked at Gramma's house.



Deep Azzhole and I were

fucking like beasts in my living room. Two huge framed Bob Marley posters with African colors hung above the sofa. Black rug with a couple open condom wrappers all over it. Open GreyGoose adn Henny liquor bottles. Spilt tobacco seeds all over the low table and floor from me cutting open Backwood cigars to put in the weed. Homeboy knew how to roll a blunt, we took three whole ones to the head.

Lit joint in the ash tray overflowing with cigarette butts. I gave him like five glasses of Henny. He was high and drunk. I was high. I was the designated driver in this niggah's mouth and soon his hole again. Just the way I liked my bitches. You wanted to break in a virgin ass get him high and drunk, he won't feel the pain, the pleasure would blind his ass.

He was a fiesty, fiery little Ho. He sucked dick so good I almost gave up on females. He sucked the head, locked the jaws, gripped the pipe, and took it to the nuts. I came in about five minutes. We, sitting and sweating on teh leather sofa, were lost in our lustful trance. He pulled my dick outta his mouth and cum spurted up alone my abs, chest and across my face. My third nut of the day. He wiped it up, got on his hands and knees, ass in my face, pretty little ass cheeks and wiped my nut on his flamin hole. He fingered some of it inside and he opened the Magnum condom, put the rest of my nut inside, and slid it on my dick. GODDAMN! Felt incredible.

"Get this ass, niggah. And if you fuck me like a bitch, I'ma fuck ya' up, Pimp!"

I tore that hole up, slapping that ass, getting jiggy with it. We rose and fell like ocean waves, this good stuff became my ocean shore, building snow men out of sand and causing them to crash everytime he slammed that hole back on my shaft. Drove me crazy, We sweated like pigs, the AC was on but it felt like an oven in here.

I took the joint pulled on it, pulled this niggah up to my lips and blew smoke into his mouth. "Inhale that shit into your lungs, Ho." I wrapped my hand around his neck, getting rough, beating his ass, giving him some good dick. He moaned like a Ho.

Gramma called me, I knew her ring tone and I had to answer. I clicked "Talk" and she said, "When are you coming back."

Deep Azzhole grinded that rectum on my dick so slowly I rolled my eyes to the back of my head, tearing that hole up. Slappign sounds filled the house.

"In a few minutes, Gramma."

And I hung up, pulling out the ass, "Spread that PUSSY OPEN!" and he did so with the spirit of a rookie try'na get drafted into the NFL. "Face down, bitch." He put his face down. I pulled on the blunt, deeply. Then I blew smoke all around the ass. Felt like I was Jupiter in space. I then pulled on it again and blew smoke deep in his ass. I began eating his sweaty hole, putting the burning tip of the blunt on his right ass cheek, slapping the left ass cheek and gripping it, digging my thick, long tongue deep in his pussy. I heard the flame sizzling with his skinand the sweat. Yea. Thats that gangstah shit right there. That niggah did the Heisman tryna handle that shit. Yea. I test the manhood an an asshole.

He was qivering like he was cold. "OH GOD NIGGAH! Don't make me love you, niggah..."

Yea. I got this bitch hooked.


My brother Sampson

called me around, say, eight P.M.

"Something's wrong with Gramma, Arttist."

I panicked, jumping outta the bed. Deep Azzhole, Manuel, was sound asleep. I loved this niggah's ass. He didn't have to leave. "WHAT?"

He was rushing his words. "YES!! Her little gathering was tonight. And she was doing just fine. But when it was time to eat she got really quiet. She asked about you also. She is just sitting in the living room on the Lazy Boy, she refused to eat, she looks faint!"

I forgot about the gathering. She always held gatherings to bring the family together.

Hanging up the phone, I grabbed my keys from the nightstand, jumping into a pair of sweat pants and a shirt.

I woke up ole boy. "Niggah we fell asleep."

"OH SHIT!" He looked at his watch. "DAMN! I was supposed to make those deliveries and get the truck back to base by five. Its after 8."

"I gotta flex. You can stay here. Just lock up when you leave. If you wanna beat that and keep your job go straight to the hospital, fill out the emergency form, post time it a few hours before, say about 4:30 and turn it in. Say you got sick. I'll call your job and cover for you."

"You'd do that for me, dawg?"

"Hell yea. I gotta flex. When you get out the hospital, come back here so I can beat that pussy some new walls."

"All right, Pimp. Just as long as you turn that dick into Greece and make this ass Ancient Ruins."

"Bet."

I was out the door.

I was doing
85 MPH, trying to get to Grandma's house in Richmond Heights, Florida (MIAMI). I hated driving fast, I had a Jag and I hardly drove a mile over 50. I had to take care of this car. Hell I had to pay $450 on it for the next 45 months.

But Gramma was my world. And I couldn't afford to fuck around. She might be dying. I knew we all had to go but damn, not now. Not like this.
Turning onto Florida's Turnpike, North from Goulds, I hotrodded around cars traveling too slow for my own taste.

The living room
was filled with family.

There was Hanna, the 15 year old slut. She wore very classy clothes, had that girl next door charm but she was letting anything on two feet break her walls down.

There was Samuel. The Army Vet with diabetes. He talked about any and everyone in the family. If you didn't want somebody knowing your business don't tell him.

There was Ed. The Ho. He fucked any and everything that breathed in his direction. Crack heads. Bassers. Cynics. Married Women. You named it he fucked it, with his tall, sexy ass.

There was Pauline. Harvard College graduate. She was in her grandmother's face, studying her. Concerned, she could hardly breathe.

"Grandma, talk to me. Its me, Pauline."

Her grandmother, looking a little out of it, slowly looked at her and tried to crack a smile. But she didn't. An unfinished quilt on her lap, she was elegantly gorgeous in a black floral dress. All around her was antique furniture that has been in her family for four generations. The clawed feet furniture, the hanging poetry and framed paintings. The old-looking entertainment shelf polished to a shine. Four generations of gold framed photos, some photos yellowed at the edges from the sands of time.

"Grandma," said Donna, Ed's wife. Grandma looked at her and reached out for her hand, squeezing it. She wondred how could a bitch be so damn dumb. Your man is cheating on you left and right and you can't look up to realize it.

"Grandma, want some food?" asked Francine, Arttist's girlfriend. She was a sweet girl, about 24 years old and had her head on straight. But the girl's lips were so uncontrollable, every time she passed by the spare guest room, she was suckign Arttist up like butter on bread.

Francine cooked dinner and she pulled up a wooden lap table, set it up in front of Grandma and set the food on it. Steaming mashed potatoes and gravy. Collard greens. Candied yams. Fried chicken. On the dining room table a few feet to her right were huge pots of cooked food, table settings set up beautifully, shiny silverware, shiny china plates. Sam Cooke sang on the stereo at a moderate tone.

A group of people were shakng and kissing their Grandma, who has been getting a little sick over the past three weeks. Her eyes looked yellow, like had jaundice.

The front door burst open and Arttist rushed over to his lady, his girl, his grandma, pushing people out of the way.

"Grandma, talk to me what is wrong?"

She gripped his hand and she forced herself to talk.

"Everyone I would like to talk to her." Arttist glared at them. ALONE."

When the room cleared out Grandma was her usual fiesty self.

"You know Pauline can't cook, right?" she spat, and Arttist started laughing, gripping her hand. He was on his knees, relieved that she wasn't having a medical emergency.

"She can't?"

She pointed at the table. "Well goddamn, Niggah. Look at all the food on the dining table. For three weeks the non-cooking bitch been cooking up all my goddamn food! And she can't cook. The collard greens is supposed to be cooked with cabage and fat back for flavoring. She puts chicken in it, and hot peppers and bell peppers. In greens? And her cornbread has cake frosting on it. It ain't cake. Its fucking corn bread."

Arttist was laughing so hard he doubled over on the floor, holding his stomach, tears falling down his eyes. Grandma picked up the yarn, needle and unfinished quilt and she said, "And the Cook from Hell comes in my face and has the gall to ask me, Gramma are you ok? Nah, bitch I ain't ok. You can't goddamn cook! Get a new hobby. If I gave her a Hooked On Phonics recipe she'd fuck that up, too!"

Arttist stood up, chocking, laughing. His Grandma flashed those shiny, pearly teeh, standing up, pushing the lap table to the side. "I'll be back. I gotta take a dump Don't come in the bathroom for twenty, to thirty minutes."

And she disappeared up the stairs.


Grandma picked up her phone

when she got in her room and closed the door. It was the neighbor's son. Diamante. He was tall, fine and rumor had it that he was an undercover faggot. She always suspected her grandson Arttist was gay, despite getting his little dick sucked in her house.

She had to find out.

"Yes. Diamante. Hmmm. I'm fine." A phony laugh. She rubbed her string of pearls around her liver spotted neck. "Are you free right now? She sat on the edge of her bed. "Come over. Come up to my room. The cable on the TV is broken. I know you work for Comcast. Come now. When you get here just come up to my room and get started."

She hung up the phone, smiling.

She instantly opened her bedroom door, walking down the hallway, passing hanging photos of Arttist in his cap and gown from high school. There he was in Pre-K graduating to first grade. He was suave, persuasive and would talk Satan into giving up the booty.

When she reached the top of the stairs she called Arttist. Like a bat outta hell he rushed up the stairs. She said, "My cable is out. Could you see about it, please. I'm going into the guest room. Fix it for me, please."
Arttist smiled, kissing her cheek. "I'll get right on it."

Grandma disappeared into the guest room and closed the door. Quickly, leaving the light off, she pranced over to the adjoining door. It led to her bedroom. She unlocked it, opened it and unlocked the adjoining door. She smiled, opening it slowly, just enough so she could peer through the crack.

When Diamante walked into the room, tool bag in hand, clad in blue coveralls, she pulled the chair over to her, sat down, and she whispered, "Let the show begin. I wanna know if my grandson is gay."

She smiled sinisterly.

Diamante looked up at me

and I was at a loss for words. That was very rare for me, for a nigah to have me all ga-ga-goo-goo like a newborn who just said "DADDY." I tried to hide it from my face but the niggah was so goddamn fine I had to shake his hand. It was firm. Like his ass.

"Sup, dawg," I said a tad bit excitedly. When I was around fine ass niggahs I was giddy and jubilantly off the chain.

"Sup, Arttist, right? Its been a while since we spoke." His voice was ghetto heaven, for real. Gritty, smoky and oozing with caramel.

I was curious. "What are you doing in my grandmother's room?" I asked him, pulling up one of Grandma's stools and sitting on it. He was pulling the TV from the wall, inspecting it.

He gave a discreet smile. Nothing about this man spelled G-A-Y. In fact he was so masculine I damn near passed out. I wondered did he get down. The niggah so sexy how could he not? I wanted the ass but damn, how could I get it? He looked like a Top. I was a Top. And I wasn't in the mood to be teaching niggahs how to take dick. Yet he was someone different, somebody that turned me on with a smile.

I guess he didn't hear me.

"Dawg..."

He looked up, sitting on grandma's bed. "Yo." He focused back on the TV.

Was ole boy ignoring me? I hated to be ignored. Getting an attitude (my dick hard as a rock), I pulled the stool over to him and I said, "Why it gotta be all like that, dawg? I had asked you a question."

He frowned and brushed dust from the top of the TV. "I'm fixing your grandmother's cable. She asked me to."

I was really getting aggitated. "You're flauging, dawg."

He looked at me dumbly. "Flauging? What the fuck is flauging?"

I stood up, suddenly not liking this niggah. Was he talking down to me? I'ma Gangsta! I don't got time for arrogantly conceited bitch ass niggahs named after Mitubishi cars: I mean Diamante? Please, niggah.

He got some motherfucking nerve. Bitch! "Camoflauging. Like blending in with the scenery. The art of vanishing."

He was shaking his head. "Oh. OK." He was brushing his finger over the missing cable sproket on the back of the TV. "Camoflauging. Flauging is not a word. But I got you, dawg. Flauging, maybe I should use it. My significant other flauged today. And shit, I guess I learned a new word. Flauging." I didn't like the way he was looking at me.

"This is the Hood, dawg." I was running my hands over my thighs, a little uneasy. "You kno' how we do."

He stood up and faced me, his hands in his pockets. His head tilted to the left, he studied me.

What the fuck are you looking at like that? I asked, "Dawg, why are you sizing me up?"

He was cautious. "When was the last time...you know, had some pussy?"

His question threw me. Yea, I loved women. I loved pussy. And I loved niggahs and getting the booty. That was on the DownLo. For real, but when he asked me this I smiled and said, "Just tonight, before I came here."

He was laughing. "Really?"

"Yea, really." I was getting upset. "Are you igging me, dawg?"

"Igging? Another slang word, 'ey? What grade did you drop out of? I like to talk with intelligent men, not arrogant little niggahs."

Oh no this niggah didn't! We 'bout to get down and get dirty in a minute, Playboy! "Little? Niggah..." I walked up in his face and took the top of his coveralls into my hands. "Look, bitch ass niggah. You don't know who you're fucking with."

"Do you think you scare me, dawg?" He kissed at me, getting into my mental. "Grip me harder Daddy, damn yo, I'm so fucking scared of you, Pimp...Please, bitch!"

"Did you just call me a bitch?"

"Aww, I'm sorry. Ho!"

I threw a punch at his face and he pivoted on his heel, caught my fist and back punched me in the face. I fell back on the wooden floor. Damn, that hurt. I was short of breath. Caught off guard with his brutal attack, all I saw was red. I wanted the bitch dead. I thought about my shiny .22 in my glove compartment in my car.

His eyes were laser beams. "Don't touch me, Niggah. I came here to fix your grandma's TV, not be harrased by you. And you didn't get any pussy tonight, dawg. Men who get the trim act a certain way. I should know. I'ma man, and you're not walking on cloud nine. You're sure it was woman pussy you got?" A few beats of silence. "Or boy pussy? After all, you did jump in tha tUPS truck earlier after putting your dick on ole boy's ass. I was watching you the entire time, motherfucker!"


I staggered to my feet

laughing, finding this all funny.

"Boy pussy." I was shaking my head. "Are you insinuating that I'm a faggot or something?"

"Nah, dawg. TO each his own, but I thought I saw you press your thang up on ole boy ass. You jumped in the truck. And you didn't come back to now, with different clothes on. Smelle like you had a shower. I mean, come on dawg," said Diamante, looking through his tool bag, finding this all childish. "It don't take a rocket scientist to figure this one out."

"Well you're wrong."

"Women change clothes two, three times a day. Not niggahs. Not men!"

"So you generalizing a niggah?"

"If the shoe fits wear it, dawg. Represent who you are. Don't hide it, Arttist.."

"What about it I don't wear socks? This shit is crazy. You don't know me, you don't know shit about me, dawg. And I'm not gay, I don't fuck men. Get that shit right dawg."

He pulled out a little pair of pliers, looking it over. "Whateva, niggah. Who you try'na convince, me or yourself. I'm not the judge and jury, dawg." He pulled the blunt from his shirt pocket and put it behind his ear. "If I was the judge I'd throw your ass out of my court room for contempt. Lying. Come on, dawg. You fucked ole boy, didn't you?"

Time to be evasive, he's pulling my card. Gotta be more careful next time. "I don't get it. My grandma just called me upstairs to fix her TV. Then you show up, and you claim she asked you. Something is not right."

He took out his wallet and opened it, pulling out a small business card. He walked up to me and I froze. We were eye level, breathing each other's air. I saw FUCK ME ARTTIST in his eyes, couldn't deny it. He slid the card in my top shirt pocket. "My dad's a shrink. I think you should go talk to him. You have...issues dawg, and it ain't Ebony or VIBE."

My dick stood even straighter, to the point it started to irritate me. I looked down, homeboy had beef, and it was hard as well. I thought about ole boy back at my crib, the one with the good booty. I smiled thinking about his breathing on my neck, dick and chest. Yet I wanted Diamante.

"So you're not gay?" asked Diamante, being condescendingly vulgar.

"N...ope."

"Faggot?"

"No, man."

"Man fucking a man?"

"DIAMANTE! Damn,d awg! You ain't g'on be disrespecting me in my grandma's house, dawg. I got family in here."

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. He put it on speaker.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Someone answered. "Sup, baby," said Diamante, "Where are you?"

"Oh, baby. I'm...home."

"How many packages you delivered UPS today?"

My heart froze.

The man at home in my bed was his boyfriend.

His dude. The one who was "Flauging," I closed my eyes.

My card pulled.


When he was done talking to his dude

listening to him lie about his whereabouts, Diamante hung up the phone. He looked at me again, walkin gup to me. I braced myself for a punch or a kick. He was mad as hell, and who could blame him. I was mad as hell. I didn't know UPS boy had a man, he told me he was unattached. I should have known. Online niggahs were slutty Ho's anyways. Which was why half of them wanted to be DownLo, so their lovers wouldnt find their asses fucking other people.

"So, you're not bisexual, dawg?" Diamante asked me, tears biting the bottom of his eyes. And this stung me. A niggah as sexy as him shouldn't be hurt. And it was all my fault. Yet I couldn't beat myself up. Ole boy gaveme the booty. I didn't beg him, and he led me on. But does it make it right?

"Diamante, dawg..." What could I say. "I'm sorry. He told me he didn't have a dude. And we weren't supposed to meet up, I mean..." Diamante lowered his head, his hsoulders shaking. I tok him into my arms and held him. Man this was fucked up. "He delivered a package to my grandma today, and I realized then he was the niggah I had talked to on Adam 4 Adam."

"He has a profile up?" Diamante was in shock. He looked up at me, taking a few steps back, his mouth open. "He does? What is his screenname? Give it to me."

"I will. But dawg..." I was stuck in a messed up situation. I just broke up someone's happy home. "Damn."

"I got a confession to make," Diamante said, looking me dead in the eyes. "Your grandmother didn't order the package that came. I bought her some new knitting stuff, since she loves making quilts. And I had UPS specifically have my dude deliver it, just to see if he would flirt with you, and for me to find out if you were gay or not."

I remained silent. I slowly approached him, breathing controllably. I eyed him, wouldn't look away. He looked fragile, like his entire world has exploded in his face. Just when I got the nerve to take this bitch by the back of the head and pull those sexy lips up to my thick lips, he walked around me, pulled out Grandma's dresser and looked for the cable cord. "The problem with her TV is that the back sproket is missing, like someone yanked it out." He got on his knees, leaning his head down towards the floor, looking for the cable.

His face down, ass up. Damn, boy. DAMN! Why he doing this to me?

I got on my knees, my dick directly behing his ass and I said, "Where's the cable?"

He sat up, and his back bumped into me. I was kissing his neck and he brought his hands up to my head, twirling his ass on my dick. He was moaning in a very thuggish way. No tlike a bitch. Not like a Ho. But like a man. And it turned me on.

I was unzipping my pants, springing my dick free. It was harder than it was when I turned the UPS bitch into a slepping beauty. Diamante turned to face me, giving me some tongue. Our tongues danced in unison, opening up in me a deep anger I didn't know I had. Angry about being bisexual, angry about being turned on by guys. His kiss made me feel safe, secure. Wrapping his arms around me he said, "Give it to me, show me what made my dude go off and destroy a three year five month plus relationship...I need you. Now, dawg...."

I was holding him, enjoying the kiss. "Really..." He took my breath away.

"Really. I wouldn't lie about it."

I believed him. We connected as his tongue trailed my bottom lip, then top lip...he softly bit my bottom lip, pulling me closer to him, and I surrendered all that was inside for just a taste of his thuggish wine.

He held his hand up to my lips and I ran my tongue all over it, suckling on his thick fingers one by one, looking deep into his eyes.

He gripped my dick, jacking me off gently, taking his time, studying his movements, bringing me ecstacy...I shuddered from the pleasure. He laid under me and told me to ride his face. I stood up, taking off my pants. I then went over and locked grandma's door. I was so excited I couldn't think. I had never fucked in grandma's room. I jacked off in her bed before but I was younger and din't really know what the fuck was going on. I was feeling like shit. I liked the UPS dude, a lot, even though I could remember the tightness of his asshole and not his name right now. But being in here with Diamante, a sexy, got-it-together niggah who wasn't a Ho, who challenged me, who wasn't afraid to punch a niggah in the chest (I LOVED THAT SHIT), had me open wide.

For the first time I felt like I had met my soulmate.

Let's be real. When a niggah's dick got hard he didn't think about love. When you wanted that nut you didn't think about devotion. When you wanted those rocks off you d idn't thinka bout martinis. When you wanted to beat pussy or ass or even get some head you didn't play Love Songs.

Diamante changed all that. In a matter of seconds.

Now that I was completely naked, he took my boxers and ran hi sslick tongue all over them. He stared deep into my eyes, slowly pushign them into his mouth. He pulled me to him and we kissed, my tongue brushing my draws. HOT SHIT! He then took my boxers from hi smouth and pushed them in mine.

"Keep them there, niggah. Let's see about this Thug in you, dawg."

I did what he said.

I got on my knees and he lay under my ass. I was facing the dresser. I held the dresser as his tongue slid across my nuts...to my ass, deep in my ass. I could feel my walls gripping his slick tongue. Oh my goodness, never felt this shit before like this. Damn, yo. Kid, fuck yo. I quivered, never had anyone made me feel like this...He was munching the hole.

"Mmm, this shit taste good,d awg...damn, yo." He was talkign shit to me. The way I liked. But I couldn't say shit, boxers were in my mouth. I was a shaking pipe filled with pressure.

I took the boxers from my mouth. "You like that chocolate, dawg?" I was fingering my nipples, my ass jiggling on his face. Ho shit, but it felt good. I had to breath in deeply, my ab muscles appearing and vanishing at three second intervals.

He got up and told me to lean against the bed. I did, he spread my legs open, my dick and nuts on display. He took my dick and wrapped the boxers around it, and he began stroking with the skill of pearl divers. He put the head in his mouth and he tightened his jaws, makign slurping sounds as his right hand gripping the boxers around this good dick brought me pleasure.

"Let's get the first nut out of the way."

Diamante said, "What about your grandma?"

He said, "Fuck your Grandma. She had her fun. Its our turn."

He was on his knees, ass up, working the shaft. He made me feel so goddamn good! My thighs shaking, my cell phone rang. I answered it. It was Mr. UPS.

"Sup, are you ok, dawg?" he asked.

"Yea." I watched his man, his Ex man, suck me up. "I'm...fine."

"When you're coming back?"

I wanted Diamante to be mine. But how could I do it? "Soon. Until then..." Damn, bitch suck that shit, damn. "Cook you something and set up a place at the table for me."

"OK, be safe."

Click.

My thighs locked up, and an electric bolt started from the cusp of my toes, exploded in my thighs, tingled my loins, sent shivers up my spine and popped in my nuts and I said, "I'm bout to nut, Baby."

I began to come all over the boxers, he kept stroking it, running his tongue behind the head of my dick, making me feel sensational, I have NEVER FELT THIS...

When it was over he got on his knees and he licked all the nut from the boxers, swallowing, then he shoved my draws in his mouth and he slowly pulled them out, making sure all the cum was gone. With a smack of his lips.

I was about to fuck this niggah real good! FUCK!

"Ready for round two?" He asked, taking off his clothes, turning around to put the ass in my face. He spread those cheeks, and home boy had a pretty ass. Damn! Tight chocolate rose bud just ready to be plucked.

I looked past Diamante, about to stand up and slid it up in him and when my hands hit the floor to press myself up I saw my Grandma peering through the door from the adjoining room, her eyes glittering dangerously. And I pretended I didn't see her as I froze, willing myself not to move.

I was about to piss on myself, goddamn it I couldn't believe this. That's why she had us both come to fix her cable that didn't need fixing.

She set us up.

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