Above: Midnight Treat by Addonis Parker.
**************This story contains strong sexual imagery and language. For mature audiences only****************
By Mikki Rey
“This is my last ride; I’m gonna call it a night.” Damien thought to himself as he drove to his next pick up. There were other things he could be doing on his Saturday night, but clubbing had gotten old to him. He hasn’t had a constant woman for six months. He was an expert at networking, so the least he could do was make extra money driving for Uber in his spare time. He pulled up to the address. The building reminded him of an old jazz bar. Dark brick, five-step walk up, wrought iron handrail, the lights in the window suggest a good time inside; outside there was a green awning with “Good Vibes Only” written in script. Damien let his pickup know that he was outside and stood on the curb taking in the warm autumn breeze.
When she stepped out, Damien was in awe! Damn! Shorty is thick! Those lips! Dominique, huh? This chick is fine! He thought to himself as he watched her strut towards his almost new white Chevy Impala. The guy she was with only stepped out the door, yelling “Call me when you get home…” . She stepped off and never looked back.
“Damien?” She said his name more as a statement than a question… He wanted to hear it as a moan with her legs around his neck and her ass cupped in his hands. “Ooooh, Daamiien”; that’s how she should say it.
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled and opened the car door, watching her glide in. Knee length cream-colored cashmere trench coat, smooth, bare legs and sexy red stilettos that strap around her ankles covering a tattoo that looks like it could be a black butterfly. The guy she was with seemed to think twice before returning to the lounge.
“Where to?” Damien fumbled with his phone, confirming her drop off location. Why couldn’t they meet in another place, at another time? A time when he could hold a conversation with her, see where her head is. Show her that he’s Damien Taylor, Assistant Promotions Director at the local radio station – he brings in big bucks, nice commissions, and great perks – backstage passes, free concert and event tickets, he gets to meet all of the artists that come through the city. He only drives once or twice a month when he’s not busy. Not for the money but to make money and meet new people.
“You know what? Just take me to the lake.” She changed her mind and direction.
“So you don’t want to go to the address you requested?” He questioned her change of plans. The lake isn’t far from Damien’s downtown apartment, but he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of dropping her off there. It’s late, dark and hopefully, she isn’t suicidal.
“You know, you’re a little dressed up to be down there at night alone. Are you meeting someone?” Damien was concerned; he could see her getting robbed, raped, murdered, anything.
Dominique stared out the window. This has been the night from hell. She’d been looking forward to meeting Alonzo. He was perfect online. He lived two hours away, but they’d gotten close over the last few months. She started and ended her days talking to him. They had so much in common. He seemed to be her perfect match; he seemed to bring her balance. He taught her new things. She was falling for him, so they had to meet… 24 hours with him in person were like babysitting a spoiled kid with no real-world experience. He acted like everyone owed him something and spent much too much of her time talking about, comparing her to and reminiscing about his ex-girlfriend. It got overwhelming, so Dominique conjured an excuse concerning her career as a social worker. She told him that a recently placed foster child was causing havoc with her new parents, so she had to leave.
Her feelings were hurt because she thought she’d found The One.
She was too cute to go back home moping. She wasn’t in the mood to hear her sister’s “I told you so.” Not right now.
“No, I’m LEAVING someone. Look, I’ve been talking this guy online for a few months. I liked him, you know. So I just met him at that spot you picked me up from and everything about it was terrible. He was nothing like his little online persona. I’m so over dating.” She exhaled a sigh of frustration. Damien was excited to hear about her dating troubles as he pulled up to her destination, put the car in park and turned around with his elbow over the front seat so that he could face her directly:
“Why do women write-off all men when they meet one bum? My last girl was a do-nothing gold digger but I ain’t write-off all women. I just know to look past a fat booty and big lips!” He shrugged, and they broke the tension with a laugh. He nodded to her destination; “You know this isn’t safe for you. You look too good to be out here by yourself this late. I’m not even a stick-up kid, and I’d rob you if I saw you out here alone.” They laughed again.
“Well come with, leave the meter running and take me home afterward?” Dominique liked Damien’s aura. He’s fine, and his smile lit up her whole night. “I just want to get some air before I go home and listen to my sister laugh at me.” She smiled as he shrugged again and got out of the car to open her door. Why is this man wearing gray sweatpants? She wondered and lusted at his dick print as she made her way onto the curb.
“Fresh mango juice overwhelmed with Cognac?” Dominique asked as she pulled a customized, monograph flask out of her purse and offered Damien a swig. He declined, but she partook. They admired the limitless beauty of the water as they strolled through the dark. They chitchatted as they walked, one topic led to another, then another. The conversation had been limitless – expressing opinions on a variety of topics. He had a funny way of expressing himself, so many of his viewpoints made her laugh. She was comfortable.
”Wait a minute.” Dominique strutted over and sat on the table with her feet on the bench. Her feet were killing her! As she leaned over to undo the straps around her ankle, she noticed Damien watching her – looking between her legs. As she leaned over to take off her other heel, she made sure to give him something to look at.
Pretty sure she opened her legs so that he could see, Damien stood with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on Dominique’s pussy. “You got on panties?” He asked. That online clown was about to be a lucky muthafucka. They locked eyes.
Dominique opened her legs completely, her dress rising to her hips and she unbuttoned the two gold buttons on her trench coat. “Nope.” She smiled slyly, giving Damien all the access he desired. She had on a deep red, almost burgundy dress that fit her body perfectly with cleavage for days; paired with her prize possession, a Coco Chanel necklace that she’d splurged on as a “Just Because” gift for herself. Her earrings were handmade ankhs: burgundy and cream with different shades of brown and gold. Her hair braided into her crown, with gold accents in her bun. She hated being matchy, but her heels were the perfect shade to match her dress which is almost impossible to find for red; so she took it as a sign of divine glory and true enough – she looked flawless.
Damien took the opportunity by throwing her legs in the air and French kissing her clitoris. He needed to hear it. He sucked her until she said it: “Ooooh, Daamiien” He licked up her leakage and kissed her pussy a little more. He kissed her in the mouth; they stared into each other’s eyes as if they were communicating. Dominique fumbled around in her purse until she found the condom she planned to use with another man. Her mouth was drooling as she pulled out his dick. Big. Strong. Beautiful. Shiny skin two shades darker than his face. Heavy. Sure. Ready. Before she put the condom on, she dropped into a squat and took him into her mouth. She squeezed both of her thumbs to avoid gagging and slurped all 10 inches of Damien down her throat. She could do this every day. She watched him enjoy her when he looked at her, they locked eyes again, and she began to show off. Damien threw his head back in ecstasy. He couldn’t believe he just met this beautiful woman as a $7 Uber ride and now she’s she sucking the soul out of his dick. He tried to pull out and cum on the ground, but Dominique wanted it, she caught it just in time to lap up the last few drops as they shot out of his dick. Damien roared like a lion. It was the sexiest sound Dominique had ever heard.
Impressed, Damien quickly threw on the condom and thrust himself inside of her. Rubbing her intestines with his dick; Dominique could only make two words: “Ooooh, Daamiien.” He stroked her, laying on a picnic table with his feet on the bench, at the lake. Even though it was dark, they were in plain sight of anyone who looked in their direction. Still, he fucked her like he didn’t care – because, at this time, he didn’t. He just wanted all of what she had to give. He wanted to give her what she was looking for when she put on that dress, when she filled up her flask when she put that condom in her purse. He fucked her like she was beautiful like nothing else mattered like she was a hoe. She’d already decided that for him, she’d be a hoe and gave him all of her frustrations, all of her satisfaction and all of her desires. He kissed her deep in her belly and fucked her up in her throat. They turned that picnic table at the lake into a porn episode, and if anyone were recording, the footage would be too good for PornHub. It was $20 DVD material. This was natural. And freeing.
The look of their caramel, gold, deep chocolate, creamy shaded skin tones under the moonlight was like watching chapters from the Book of Karma Sutra. Black Egyptians manipulating the entire galaxy. Finger sucking, skin nibbling, pressure point activating, hardcore fucking. Thrusting and grabbing. Beating and blending. Swirling and serving. Every time Damien touched Dominique’s titties, she came. He sucked them like he needed them to save his life, the same way he’d done her pussy. He flipped her nipples with his tongue, the same way he’d done to her clit. Dragging his teeth across her skin, he sucked them harder, biting her nipples. He played with her nipple clenched between his teeth using his tongue. He stroked her deep. He had one of her hands in his; his other hand occupied with the task of playing with the nipple he wasn’t making love to with his mouth. Bringing them together so that he could have them both at once. Her free hand was caressing his face, massaging his upper body, keeping him comfortable in this position so he would continue – just a little bit more. He felt her pussy tightening, so he put her legs over his shoulders and leaned into her. All of the way, into her. He dominated her by grabbing her shoulders and beating up her pussy like it stole something from him. Dominique moaned. Damien roared as he slowed down the pace of his stroke. He wanted to feel her shaking. He slow stroked with every twinge her body made. He slow stroked with every contraction inside her vaginal walls. He slow stroked to catch his breath. The stars had fallen from the sky and were dancing around in his eyelids, falling onto Dominique’s sexy Reggae Red lipstick.
It was so good and spontaneous. Damien knew this wouldn’t be their last time. “Dominique” Damien’s breaths were shallow. “I’m taking this pussy.” That wasn’t a request; it was a fact. All he could do was hope she wasn’t a gold digger or the type to fuck his friends. One thing he knew for sure is that Dominique is vivacious and he likes that in his women.
Once everything stopped spinning, Damien pulled out without a condom. He looked up at her, “Damn. You might be pregnant.” He told her as he stuck his fingers inside his pussy, fishing out their protection…
Dominique stared blankly through her legs which were wide open like she’d just given birth, at the naked man standing over her that she’d known less than three hours – yet engaged in the perfect heat of the night, mind-blowing, body fiending, universe shattering lovemaking. “If it’s a girl, we’re naming her Karma.” Damien watched as Dominique used the lemon he’d just tossed her as a chaser and took stock of the possibility. “And what if it’s a boy?”
Exactly a year later, Dominique and Damien were married at the lake – in a different location, keeping their spot sacred. Their son, Messiah in both of their arms as they said “I do,” blending black and gold sand.
About the author: Self-described Urban Fictionalist, Mikki Rey is the author of To The Max (2015) and a host of other poetry and prose. A member of Writers – Black Artists Connected; and co-founding member of Marijuana Melanites – a diverse group of prolific artists advocating for the decriminalization of marijuana. Mikki is also the producer of Ori All Natural – bath, body and consumable products for health and spirit. Visit her at https://www.facebook.com/tamika.reynolds.3