“Let me get this straight,” I started. “You’re willing to let me fuck your sister, right here, right now, no strings attached, as long as I let you watch and as long as I don’t fuck anything but her pussy?” “That’s kind of blunt, Artie. But that’s essentially it,” Lisa replied. “Is this some kind of a test?” I asked with no small measure of sarcasm. “It’s not a test, Artie.” “Because it sounds to me like you just want to...

The Wedding, Part 05 When I awakened my dick was again a pillar of stone, already enshrouded in the comfort of a woman’s sex hole. Lisa’s rectum was a steaming pipe begging for pole. I thought to resurrect our earlier anal session, but Lisa quietly reminded me that her pussy was the orifice most in need of relief. “I don’t have a bone pressing on a pudendal ass nerve, Artie.” She reached down and nudged my penis northward...

She finger palmed me!! And then she squeezed my index finger with a smooth, velvety fist! I looked to Nicole with an astonished glance. Her return glance was unmistakable. Nicole wanted to fuck. Unlike Lisa, who kept her intentions disguised behind a patina of purity and innocence, Nicole’s eyes said it all. She did not dissemble her intent. And then she dropped the bomb: “I’ll do you better than a quickie in a hotel bath...

“Don’t…cum…in…me,” Lisa had said. I remember that Teralynn once told me that college-educated women all knew the risks of having unprotected “rawdog” sex. Most of them knew how to stave off the unwanted pregnancies that might accrue from fucking “rawdog”. “Everybody likes to fuck rawdog, Artie. A woman that won’t let you cum inside her probably wants her pussy licked that night. And she knows most guys won’t lick a sloppy...

The Wedding, Part 02 “Awwwwwww, SHIT!!!!!!” It was Kevon. He and the rest of the fellas, including Terry and Jennie, were milling about in the hotel lobby when I returned from my encounter with Lisa in the conference room. I tried to put on a brave face. “Who you done did it to? Already? It’s only six o’clock!!” exclaimed Jennie. (She often slipped easily into Ebonics around us. But she could be painfully proper in her pr...

OK, so one of the fellas is finally getting married. Kevon Simpson is twenty-six, four years out of Delaware State (as are we all) with a major in economics and a minor in music. We are the bourgeoisie black version of the Brat Pack as seen on St. Elmo’s Fire. At least we think of ourselves as such. We met as freshmen in Medgar Evers Hall, bonded and look to be lifelong friends. Let’s see. There’s me (Arthur Jay), there’s...