damon's game

  Damon looked at the number on his phone again. Yeah. He was sure he didn't know who the hell it was. He wasn't in the habit of answering unknown numbers. He had to many encounters with his ex that turned into nightmares. But this was the third time this week that the number had popped up. He was starting to feel uneasy.

 The sound of his general ringtone slammed into his ears.

 Going against all he truly believed...he answered.

  "Look...who the hell is this? I know you had to hear my voicemail. I don't know you. Stop calling!"

  He waited for some sort of answer. There had to be some sick minded individual playing a sordid game. This was it. If he had to curse them out and find a way to have their phone cut off, he would.

  "Um...is this 2777?" The voice was soft and sweet. Not what he had expected at all. The woman sounded sexy but genuinely unsure of herself and the situation.

  "Yeah...but who this?" He had to keep the hard edge just in case.

  "My name is Kandi. I've had this number for a while. It used to belong to a friend of mine. We haven't been in contact for a long time. Do you know a Robert Jones?"

  Damon chuckled and took the phone away from his ear. His devious side oozed out and he licked his lips. This just might play into his hands.

 "Ohhhh! Yeah. I know Rob! That's my nigga! We used to play ball on Saturday's at the Y! What's your name? Kandi?"

 "Yes...I'm so sorry I-"

 "Hey! It's aight. You wanna come by? He told me that you'd be callin' soon. You can wait here until he comes by. Trust me. He can be an idiot when it comes to time management. Where can I pick you up?" He was hoping she'd take the bait. Her voice was so damn sexy and inviting. The rest of her had to be just as appealing.

  "Well...sure. Why not. In fact...I'm right out side your door."

  No fucking way! He figured the sex gods were shining on him again! He pushed the end button on his cell, tossed it aside, jumped from the sofa and trotted to his apartment door. He looked carefully through the peep hole. No shit. There she was. She was wearing a black trench coat. Her hair was wet  and surrounded her gorgeous face with ringlets or curls.

  He opened the door and she smiled, revealing a set of gorgeous teeth. She licked her plump wine colored lips and walked in. Damon closed the door, never taking his eyes off her frame as she glided by. He was mesmerized. She unbuttoned the coat and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing only a black bustier, purple thong and heels. Her ample ass jiggled as she balanced her weight on one leg and bent a knee. She turned around to face him.

 "You're not Robert. But this is what we used to do..."

  Kandi slowly walked over to him, dropped to her knees and reached into the crotch of his boxers. His dick was willing and ready. It had gotten hard as she moved closer. A quick maneuver and it was out. She ran her tongue from his balls along the underside of his wood. He moaned as she took the tip into her mouth and swirled her tongue in circles. Her eyes blinked and fluttered as she slowly took in the length and girth of his thick tube. It was halfway in her mouth when he felt the back of her throat. He placed his hands on her head and guided her all the way down to the base of his dick.

  His moaning told her that she was making the right move. Slowly, she pulled her head backwards, leaving a thick trail of spit. It glistened and dripped down his balls onto the carpet. She opened her mouth for air and slurped the head. Their eyes met as she looked up at him. He pulled himself from her mouth and hopped out of the shorts. He positioned her head and slid back into her warm mouth and throat. The slippery feel of her lips made him pump faster. The sounds of wet, thick sex filled the air. She took her mouth away in mid stroke.

 "Fuck me."

 Damon moved her over to the sofa. He leaned her across it and pulled the thong down. He slid into her wet pussy with a long gush. Kandi looked back at him. "She talkin' to you bay. You...like that?" She cooed between strokes. Damon grunted his satisfaction and plunged deeper into her juicy snatch.

  He gripped her thick ass cheeks and pulled them apart as he pounded her soft pussy. He looked down and watched his fat dick slide in and out of her hole. She was matching him stroke for stroke. Kandi reached under her stomach and found his nut sack. She cupped and fondled it as he glided in and out. She felt herself tingling and her nipples were getting hard and sensitive. She eagerly cupped one of her breasts and sucked the nipple. That put her over the edge. She gripped the back of the sofa and slammed her ass onto Damon's surging dick.

  The next thing Damon did, sent shock waves through her body. He reached under, found her clit and rubbed as they both moaned and exploded in ecstasy.

 Damon rolled onto his back. He struggled to catch his breath as he sat smiling at Kandi. She was leaning over the sofa, her ass still poked out.

 "You're right...." She let out softly. "Role play is a muthafucka!"

krispy creme

the heat

from her silhouette

drew him,

called to him

like a beckoning urge

that needed to be scratched.

vanilla cupcake

infused skin,

supple and smooth,

met his kiss

pulling an eager tongue

along the road map

of her brown insanity.

the dip of her navel,

the mound of outer lips

that meet lips,

searching for inner lips

and the union

is complete.

hungry soul

devouring the creamy essence

which runs

in thick streams

as he licks 

and her hips grip.

she fucks his face

while he quickens the pace

to make her drown

in the ecstasy

of his carnal desires.

pink on pink

wetness

causes a salty explosion.

moans of satisfaction

rip through gritted teeth...

dwindling sighs

tell the tale of a deed

done well indeed.

the sounds of heavy breathing

unite

as hunger is quenched

but for one night.

field of dreams reloaded

how can the melody

that once caused my heart

to flutter

in anticipation,

fade into devil toothed

demons

which taunt and jest?

the touch,

so warm and inviting,

now stirs

deep regret

in the form of late night

hunger pangs

and

incessant cries 

for attention.

i cover my ears

and turn a deaf soul

to the thing

which wears your 

countenance.

to send it

into the cornfield

would be bliss.

a worn mind

can summon

no such happiness.

crushed memories

remain at the ready,

to fill the void

anger 

has created.

empty copulation

invades

as darkness

turns to morning dew.

false moans,

in the key of yesterday,

slither

through sleep laden

gray matter,

pulling wanton desires

from dead curiosity.

the deed is done.

once again

i must rise to repeat,

rise to repeat,

rise...

scratch that.

routines are good.

my life is no longer mine

it's ours.

i'd trade eternity

for an escape

from this haunting

concerto,

my kingdom

for a wish.

But the survival

of innocence

brightens the horizon. 

apple cider vinegar

the path 

to the right path

or any other path

screams

beneath a wet kiss.

disturbing dreams

of sister katrina

haunt

through visions

varnished

with 

deja,

deja,

deja-vu.

steel and concrete

monsters

bathed 

in salty tears 

while 

mechanical birds 

drop their necks

and bow 

to the majesty and power

of the Creator.

human frailty 

rears an ugly 

yet predictable head

that imagines and acts

upon the fears 

of the weak.

searching

through piles 

of yesteryear's memories...

defying the moral demand,

rooted 

in that which is right,

only to realize 

what is wanted

isn't that 

which is needed.

cries in the dark 

linger towards 

a fortnight

as hope remains vigilant

yet reality is reflected

in pools of stagnant water.

distraught mothers 

pray for deliverance

and receive 

the ultimate curse.

gray swirls

pound the right 

with droplets of rage

as eyes watch

in horrified disbelief.

yet the surf recedes

leaving the entrails

of her visit.

soon...

the snakes will slither

through their holes,

queens will mate

with the shore.

all will be as it once was.

but we will never

forget.

lost

she waits

for the appointed time

which curls 

around her intestines 

like a beautiful noose.

the footsteps

are always quiet

and paced.

one...

two...

three...

they inch 

towards her chamber 

of pink

with confidence 

and 

apathetic lust.

her disdain is disillusioned

by the sheer fact

that the warmth

is genuine love.

so she stays quiet

while vile deeds

penetrate and punish

tender emotions...

turning them

into razor fanged

memories

that long to feed

upon the fleshly sameness

that gave her life.

confusion erupts

as scintillating sensuality

pours 

from once upon a child

and a woman emerges

dressed

in the funeral regalia

of times gone black.

satanic thrusts

engorge her kitten

with seeds 

of bitterness

which will someday

feed her revenge.

but yet

cuddly caresses

ensure 

that this is normal.

creeeeeak...

the chamber is sealed

until the sordid thirst

rises once more.

sign language

her days 

and nights

meld 

into one another

creating the monster

she refuses to see.

apathetic cries

sleep

just beneath the surface

and writhe

with fervor

as they try to escape

the ineptitude 

of those who have eyes

but yet 

no eyes.

soft flesh

tattered and torn

to please the insatiable 

lust

that lurks 

whenever she walks

among the living.

white coat

induced slumber

while the reality

present in dreams

overtakes and stumbles.

the cold hands,

slithering 

into the forefront

and shattering

her screams to be whole.

verbal barrage

smothering the intent

that was once

innocence...

now lost in the fire

to be consumed

with any shred

of moral or mental

decency.

she weeps

and 

weeps.

praying 

for her moment

of deliverance

that never

comes.

slip and slide

wet outside,

wet inside 

and

wet all around.

enraptured

by warm sensations

flooding past

desire upon desire

as we twist and slosh

through 

the indulgent sighs

of our lust.

alternating 

grips and groans

while fever pitch

insanity

plays

hide and seek

with dueling libidos.

hard meets soft

in a tango

of pink and red

designed 

to deliver 

quivers 

down ecstatic endings

which explode

in 

premature yet precise

trickles

of therapeutic

thunder.

"you must be this tall."

salty and sweet

is the fruit

we produce.

we have captured 

the essence

of the sea

and laid our souls bare

beneath the waves of wonderment.

the watcher

the word 

came swift 

and sure.

cutting like a knife,

leaving 

in it's wake

a trail like no other.

sweeping devastation

which sat 

upon his shoulders

and feasted upon his dreams.

surely 

this was a nightmare

engulfed by insanity,

regurgitated 

in disbelief

and finally embraced

through countless shots of jack.

faded and worn

ghosts,

times come and gone

that linger

on lips 

that should have done better.

growing hatred

seething 

with the intensity

only shared by blood.

nothingness

mired in the consequences

of laughter and smiles

taken for granted.

the smell of grass

on a crisp summer's eve

whisking

through the cobwebs

donned

by middle aged regret

yet fanned 

by the solace

of a few final moments.

longing 

for the crack of the bat,

the feel of pigskin

and covered eyes

that ended with tickles.

tick,tock

goes the days

and bittersweet existence 

is no more.

the waiting is over,

the pain is lifted.

rounding the diamond...

home 

is but a million light years

away,

even though

it felt like yesterday.

the curious case of tantric taste buds

carefully selected

and chosen

for the sole purpose

of oral satisfaction,

a choice 

made in heaven.

succulent,

juicy,

an absolute delight 

for the senses.

she made sure

that her fingers

gently kneaded

and rubbed 

life

into the limp member.

the appearance

of silky red

ran across

plump kissers

and she imagined 

how good 

it would be

in her mouth.

FLIP!

an encounter 

with the other side

caused a moan

of satisfaction

and anticipation.

it would be 

at least half an hour

before they start their dance

into blissful

indulgence.

she waited

with bated breath

and tossed salad

in the meantime.

low and slow

led to finger licking

as burnt brown 

sugar

enters the realm

of no return.

slurps

and burps

tell a tale 

encased 

in salivating enjoyment.

el amor que nunca fue

funny...

when i looked into your eyes

on that fateful day,

there was no hint 

of utter disaster.

the only thing 

which stood proud

 and prominent

seemed to be the promise

of  eternity.

but who is here

to care for me

when the hurt surrounds

like predators

waiting to devour 

any residue

that was left?

can i

roll over

 to the warm spot

that still whispers your name

and plead my case?

or must i

take solace

in the fact

that you once gave me

empty vouchers

for yesterday's love?

the tears

have turned bitter...

once the sole reminder

that kept remorse

from rotting

our memories.

but now that i see no use

in the redeeming value

brought on by thinking,

i gladly surrender

and give my sanity

to the wind.

for the truth

will always remain

stagnant

within the walls

of my soul.