Gettin' Buck Wild: Sex Chronicles II Read online

  Before I knew it, Davon had jumped up from his table and was headed straight for us. “Shameika, what the hell is this? Why are you throwing yourself on some man in the middle of a public place?”

  I frowned at him. “Are you my daddy? Matter of fact, are you anything to me? Mind your own damn business.”

  Thomas stepped in between us. “Look, buddy, we don’t need any trouble. The lady and I are leaving, so why don’t you just go and enjoy the rest of your meal.”

  Thomas made the mistake of placing his hand on Davon’s shoulder, and Davon knocked it off. “Don’t touch me!”

  “Whatever! Just go sit back down.”

  “I’ll sit down when I fucking get ready to sit down!”

  That’s when I jumped back in. “Hmph, no you didn’t take issue with me kissing in public when you’re standing here cussing.”

  “Shameika, get your ass outside! I need to talk to you. Now!”

  I laughed at him. “You’ve got jokes.” I pointed over to his date, who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else but there. Nothing is worse than being pushed off for another woman in public. “You need to go over there with the skank hoe and let me be.”

  I could see smoke come out of her nostrils from across the room. Then she got up. She must’ve run track in high school, because she was at our table in a matter of seconds. “What did you call me?”

  I got up in her face. “I called you a skank hoe!”

  She picked up a glass of lemonade from the table next to the one we’d just vacated and tossed the contents on me. The sistah seated at the table went off. “What the hell is this shit?”

  I went for her date’s coffee and threw the hot liquid on the skank. She went for a waffle, as did I, and we both hit each other in the face at the same time with them. The next thing I knew the scene descended into complete madness. Someone yelled, “Food fight!”

  Five minutes later, the restaurant was in a shambles, some people were having the time of their lives, and others were trying to beat each other to death. You can do a lot of things, but don’t mess with black people’s food.

  We heard sirens approaching, and Thomas and I managed to navigate our way through the crowd to the door. I glanced back and saw the skank hoe beating Davon in the head with somebody’s purse. It was a sight to remember. He was in for a long-ass night. I hoped he would get locked up.

  Thomas and I made a mad dash for his Beemer and took off just in time as a paddy wagon and several police cars pulled up in front.

  After a moment of seriousness, we both fell out laughing. Thomas was so overwhelmed by the moment that he had to pull over before he lost control of the car. He and I both laughed until we were in tears.

  We went back to my place because it was closer than his. I would have to peep his gadgets at a later date—I needed a shower and a change of clothes. I could take care of one thing at his place, but not the other. Besides, there is nothing like using my own shampoo and bath gel. It took me years to find the ones I like the most.

  I looked in my bathroom mirror, and I was a mess. There was syrup and bits of waffles and chicken plastered to my face and hair. After inching out of my sticky clothes, I turned on the shower. The warm water was invigorating against my skin, but getting all the food out of my hair was quite a chore. Thomas planned to take a shower after me. I found that amusing. We both knew that we’d end up slapping skins that night. It was as inevitable as the sun rising the next morning.

  I wasn’t looking my sexiest now, and neither was he. I thought back to the food fight at the restaurant and couldn’t help but relish the thought of Davon getting locked up for the night. If anyone deserved to be arrested up in that bitch, it was him. I was a bit jealous that he was dating someone else. But, on the other hand, I had found me a possible soul mate, so it was all good.

  I got out of the shower, wrapped myself in a pink satin robe, went out into the living room, and told Thomas it was his turn. I handed him some towels, and he headed for the bathroom. While he was showering, I decided to light scented candles and spray lavender water into the air.

  I turned down the paisley comforter on my queen-size bed and put on a slow jam compilation CD. There was but one thing missing, so I headed to the kitchen to retrieve two flutes and a bottle of champagne. Thomas came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel. His muscles were in all the right places.

  “Do you want me to rub you down with some body oil?” I offered, hoping he would say yes, so I could feel him up real good.

  “Sure, as long as you let me return the favor.”

  We treated each other to the most sensual of massages for the next thirty minutes or so—full-body massages that awakened every inch of our beings. Thomas had the most incredible hands, hands that could bring me pleasure night after night after night. Being nude around him seemed so natural it was almost scary.

  “So what did you think about the first night of class?” he asked me, breaking the silence.

  “It was cool, but the professor seems a bit egotistical.”

  “You can say that again.” Thomas chuckled. “If he has it going on so much, why is he teaching night school?”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  We both snickered.

  “Thomas.”

  “Yes.”

  “Can we not discuss class or him? I’m trying to stay in one zone, and the mere mention of all that is kind of killing it for me.”

  “What zone might that be?”

  I licked my lips, dipped my index finger into my pussy, and then placed it in his mouth so he could taste me.

  “This zone,” I replied seductively, dipping my finger again before tasting myself.

  “Damn, I’ve never seen a woman taste herself before,” he whispered in awe.

  I laughed. “Think about it. Most women like for men to taste them, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So why should we expect a man to partake of something we’re not willing to sample ourselves?”

  Thomas grinned. “Makes sense.” He reached out and fondled my breasts. “So do you like to be eaten out, Shameika?”

  “Is the sky blue?” I replied.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Do you like it when a woman goes down on you?”

  “Is the grass green?”

  “Only in good neighborhoods,” I replied.

  We both fell out laughing.

  “Seriously, some grass is rather dry. Even in Kansas.” I placed my hand on top of his, prodding him to squeeze my breasts harder. “I’ll tell you what’s never dry, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My pussy. Especially not now.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you excite me.”

  “That goes both ways.”

  I reached for the champagne. “I was going to pour this in glasses, but I think I’d rather just lick it off you. Is that cool?”

  “That’s more than cool.”

  I poured about an ounce of the champagne on his chest and traced a path from his breastbone down to his belly button with my tongue. The mixture of the cool liquid and the flavored massage oil was delicious. Thomas moaned in delight as I poured a little more right on the head of his dick and then sucked it off.

  “I want to taste you, too,” he said, running his fingers through my hair.

  Without letting his dick go, I maneuvered myself until my pussy was on top of his face and we were in the sixty-nine position. Thomas wasted no time going to town on my pussy. He started eating me and inserted a finger into my ass, increasing the sensation.

  The way we went at it, you would have thought neither one of us had eaten in days, much less the bomb-ass chicken and waffles.

  I reached into my nightstand to remove two black drapery tassels. Thomas’s eyes widened. “What are those for?” he asked.

  “I know you said you have some innovative toys at your house. Well, I have some of my own.” I took his left wrist, slid
it through a tassel, and then attached it to one of the headposts. “Sometimes everyday household items can be sexy as well.”

  Thomas grinned. “You have a little freak in you, huh?”

  I eyed him wickedly. “I have a lot of freak in me.”

  I secured his other wrist and then got up off the bed, headed toward the living room.

  “Where are you going?” Thomas yelled after me.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  A moment later I returned with two items that I knew would turn his ass out: a feather duster and a cordless hand massager.

  “What are you going to do with those?” he asked.

  “You’ll see,” I said as I climbed onto the bed next to him.

  I tickled his dick with my yellow feather duster, and Thomas fell out laughing. He tried to get his wrists loose to no avail.

  “Do you like this, Thomas?”

  There was no need for him to respond verbally. He shed tears of joy, and his dick looked like it could split bricks. It was time to go in for the kill. I turned the massager on low and started rubbing it up and down the shaft of his dick. All the while I continued teasing the head with the feather duster. Thomas gave a good impression of a man strapped in an electric chair with a thousand volts going through his body.

  The tiny pulsating heads of the massager did their job in less than a minute. Thomas’s cum shot about two feet in the air. It was an amazing sight. I had tried that move on Davon a few times, but he never climaxed like that.

  As I released Thomas from the tassels, he said with bated breath, “Damn, girl. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

  “It felt good?”

  He snickered. “It felt great!”

  I kissed Thomas on the lips and gently caressed his dick. “Let’s allow him to rest for a while. Then I have some other things I want to show you.”

  Thomas kissed me deeply. “I can’t even imagine.”

  We both broke out in laughter.

  I placed tiny kisses all over his chest. “After I show you all my goodies, maybe you can take me to your place and show me yours.”

  “I have lots of goodies,” Thomas boasted.

  I gripped his dick and said, “I already tasted some of them.”

  Thomas and I ended up drifting off to sleep, and we would have stayed that way if my phone hadn’t started blaring. I snatched the phone up in irritation. “Who the hell is this?” I said.

  “Shameika, you’ve got to help me,” I heard a raspy male voice say on the line.

  “Davon?” I sat up in the bed. “You have got to be out your damn mind, calling me this time of morning!”

  He raised his voice. “Shameika, this is all your fault!”

  “What’s all my fault?”

  Thomas woke up, rubbing his eyes and looking at me. “Something wrong?”

  I shook my head no and repeated, “What’s all my fault?”

  “I got locked up.” I fought to suppress a laugh. “I’m locked up in here with a bunch of perverts because of that shit you pulled earlier.”

  “The shit I pulled?”

  “Yeah, the shit you pulled!” He was practically screaming into the phone now. “I’m over here at the Fifth Precinct, and your ass better get here on the double to bail me out!”

  “Why not let the hooch you were with earlier bail you out?”

  Thomas grinned, apparently catching on.

  “She’s locked up over on the woman’s side.”

  I couldn’t hold in my giggles any longer. “Davon, that’s what your ass gets. I’m in the middle of getting my groove on. I’ll have to catch you later.”

  I could hear him taking deep breaths. “You mean to tell me that you’re over there fucking while I’m in jail?”

  “Exactly!” I said. “And the sex is all that, too. He even cums better than you, you piece of shit!”

  I could hear him calling me all kinds of names as I slammed the phone down.

  Thomas rubbed my cheek. “I’ll have to remember not to piss you off. That was kind of cold, girl.”

  “If you knew the history, you wouldn’t even be saying that. That fool put me through the wringer and then some.” Thomas’s dick was hard again. “Besides, why are we even discussing Davon when we can be putting all this dick to good use?”

  Thomas placed his hands behind his neck and propped his head up. “So use it. You want to tie me up again?”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “I want your hands available for this next round.” I handed him the massager and feather duster. “Now it’s my turn.”

  Needless to say, Thomas and I had a ball together for the rest of that day, and the day after that, and the day after that. After our next class, Thomas took me back for some more chicken and waffles. We had to wear disguises—dark shades and caps. Even though it was late at night, we were surprised no one recognized us as we chowed down. Then we went back to his place—and let’s just say his gadgets were a whole lot better than mine.

  Thomas and I dated for the next year or so, but then things tapered off. He became absorbed in his business, and my interests turned to getting the hell out of Kansas. The world is such a big place, and I felt stifled there. He had just gotten to town. I, on the other hand, had been trapped in the place my entire life. I decided to take the leap. I started my own business selling, guess what, adult toys! I distribute some of Thomas’s inventions along with my own I developed from common household items.

  Now I travel the country giving seminars and hosting adult parties. One thing is for sure; sistahs of all races love sex, and their men love it even more. I have made a ton of money and plan to settle down one day on the East Coast someplace. New York City is rather costly, but hey, there’s no point in doing something half-ass, so that’s probably where I’ll end up.

  Thomas often crosses my mind. He’s the perfect catch for someone—in Kansas. It came down to making a choice, and I feel like I made the right one. But I will never forget that first night we spent together and the way his cum shot two feet in the air. Every time I think about it, I break out in a grin. This sistah will never be “fuckastrated” again.

  Down for Whatever

  * * *

  Chauncy and I have been living together for a little over a year. I met him in a nightclub, and as soon as I spotted him across the crowded dance floor, I wanted to fuck him in the worst way.

  I practically begged my homegurl, Nicole, to walk across the floor and get him for me. After a bunch of convincing, which included bringing up all the things I did for her in the past—like hooking her hair up and baby-sitting her bad-ass kids—she gave in.

  Whatever Nicole yelled in his ear, over the loud music, worked, because less than five minutes later she brought him back to our table.

  He is so fine, there ought to be a law against it. Chauncy is half black and half Puerto Rican; mixed together, they make butter pecan. Six-foot-two and lean with curly black hair and light brown eyes; too dayum gorgeous. We look good together because I am five-foot-ten, slender, caramel, with long, medium brown hair and big brown eyes. He sat down at the table, Nicole introduced us, we smiled at each other, and thus the sensuous love affair of Chauncy and Dawn began.

  There is no shame in my game;I fucked Chauncy the first night we met. He is still here, so the sex must have been banging for both of us. In fact, it was more than banging; we fucked like beasts.

  I was sort of on the conservative side when we met but thought my sex was the bomb. Most young women swear up and down they have the bomb-ass pussy, but Chauncy schooled my mistaken little butt right quick. He took me to the limit and showed me what “real” fucking is all about.

  Now I am out there, way out there, and sitting here pondering the question: Can I honestly think of a thing I haven’t tried or am not willing to try sexually? It’s like this, I am down for whatever. Simple as that.

  Let me guess! You think I am a freak, right? A slut? A hoe? Not hardly. But people thinking I am one is not terribly su
rprising. Sexual repression explains a person every time who would look down on sexually uninhibited women like me. Funny thing is, the women talking all the critical shit are the same ones sitting at home alone on the weekends, wondering why they can’t get or keep a man. Peep that!

  Anyway, back to what I was saying in regards to my baby. Chauncy is twenty-six, and I’m twenty-three. Both of us had stable upbringings and the benefit of a higher education. Both of us have good-paying jobs and in general have our shit together.

  I often call Chauncy my “twin” because his sexual appetite mirrors my own. That explains why I will never leave him, not ever. We understand each other’s needs, and the willingness to fulfill each and every sexual desire is mutual. This includes sexual activities with other people. But mostly it’s all about the two of us. Sometimes we incorporate toys, and at other times the wild shit we do is downright dangerous.

  When I first met Chauncy, I had the basics covered. I sucked a mean dick, and my pelvic muscle control was above par.

  Chauncy has taught me never to be ashamed of anything that feels good, which is why I am always down for whatever sexual situations he proposes. My girlfriends claim I allow him to dominate me; they call me his “sub.” But I don’t see it. If anything, we alternately dominate each other.

  It is true that he is more likely than me to improvise and incorporate creative ideas into our sex lives. But that’s because I am still a baby to sexual freedom. The fact remains that I love every minute of it.

  Like the time three of his best friends came over to our crib to watch a college football game. Chauncy asked me if I wanted to experience a train. I told him he was out of his fucking mind, went in the bedroom, and slammed the door. I was furious.

  Once I calmed down and contemplated it, though, the thought of having four men wear my ass out made me extremely horny. The decision to go for it was a big step for me.