why you wanna go and do that pt. 3

part one
part two

as we made our way to the bedroom, the falsetto notes of a lover's lust made melodic thrusts 'tween the sighs of a tight silence.

"...six on a thursday night 'n u be jonesin' babe
for a brotha to hold u tight 'n keep on goin' ..."

"maxwell?" i asked without expecting an answer as a smirk shaped my lips, "damn, fingaz...you got this down to a science, huh?"
his chuckle was a gutteral sound scratching the air around us.
"uh, i'm serious," i deadpanned in response, feeling like the lone discordant note in an orchestrated song of seduction.

here's the quandry, folk...on the one hand, i do expect my lovers to be relatively experienced when it comes to sex and its variants. however, the skill of the truly experienced lies in the ability to make it all look as though it occurred spontaneously. i can recall a few times when i went to a brotha's house for dinner and next thing you know i was on my back with my legs in the air and the only thing i remember before that moment was being kissed senseless. i couldn't even be mad at it. all i could do was admire the skill necessary for him to get me from arrival to bent over and butt-ass naked before my mind caught on. it was literally like i was just walking along, tripped on a hairy crack, and landed on a dick.

unlike the guy sitting there wearing jeans but no underwear, his hand on the condom in his pocket, a burned cd of 'skrait fuckin' slow jams set to go when the cd player detects a sista's panties are at 90% saturation, and red or blue lights on a dimmer switch triggered by the the sound of her bra being unclasped. it's kinda like when i'm driving on a highway in the backwoods and i see a billion signs on the side of the road warning me about "mabel's sex imporium up ahead" and there's the continual image of this blowsy white chick with a bad bleach and boob job skeeted onto a huge billboard like semen onto an intern's dress. then i gotta see that same shit for the next hundred miles until finally it's at the next exit and all i wanna do is go and burn down the spot so the crabs won't spread.

in other words, seduction should be subtle, not something to beat me over the head until the only reason i've acquiesed is because dude has knocked me unconscious with it.

and come on...'til the cops come knockin? dude might as well have played 'we be strokin' for all the subtlety the song provided.

"'guy who evidently took notes on seduction from the movie 'american pimp' next...should we exit?"

i could actually feel my pussy drying up like a puddle of water beneath a desert sun.

and then we arrived at the intended destination. he opened the door to the bedroom...and i stopped cold.

"'bedroom reminiscent of an infected prostitute's twat' in next two feet"

it was like walking into the folds of an enflamed vagina. every last inch of it was drowning in various blushes of red. the room was dominated by a king-sized platform bed placed dead center like a distended vulva while the carnal glow of a blood-red bulb cascaded down the walls before staining the black satin sheets with its plasmic splash.

edit...it was like walking into the folds of an enflamed vagina during aunt flo's visit.

not.a.good.look.by.HALF.

i sniffed in covert bursts, sure i would get a wiff of some topical medication meant to get rid of a pesky std or the rotting odor of a discarded tampon.

"so evidently," i stated in a matter-of-fact tone after a full minute of my gaze creeping across every inch of the room from the scarlet curtains to the cardinal carpet, "you dig red."

he winked at me.

and then i hear this whirring noise.

that is NOT what i think it is...

my gaze shot towards the bed as i squinted fiercely just to be sure i wasn't seeing things.

the bed was...

VIBRATING?!?

"'infested prostitute twat with vibrating dildo shoved into it'...straight ahead."

"fingaz," i quelled the gasp sitting at the back of my throat, "that is NOT a vibrating bed."

"actually, it's not."

i breathed a sigh of relief.

"it's a cra.ftmatic," he finished proudly.

*crickets*

did he just say...

i began shaking...

oh.my.goodness. my nipples hardened into painful points. i crossed my legs to squeeze out the desire that had sprung with sudden intensity in between my thighs.

folk, you don't understand...

this bed is made for fucking. period. now i'm sure the commercials advertise it as an adjustable bed perfect for old folk with bad backs looking to get a good sleep. meanwhile, it's quite obvious this bed should be marketed to the folk with bad backs who like exotic sexual positions but not the back strain that goes with them (that would be me). do you realize how many positions can be accomplished with this contraption?!?

as far as i'm concerned, a cra.ftmatic bed should be just as essential to sexual activity as condoms.

my decision to bounce was no longer so easy to make.

let's run down the list of pros and cons, shall we?

cons:
his game was the fred flinstone feet of finesse.
that bedroom had me thinking about my time of the month.

pros:
his genes had delivered a pretty sizable package to the front of his pants and i was ready to sign for it.
his was the bed i'd been dreaming of fucking on for at least a decade.

a split decision...shit.

i ran my hand reverently over the mattress, my mind still muddled as to what i should do. however, i knew it was important to play down my excitement until the votes had been tallied.

"nice bed," i muttered, straining to keep the awe out of my voice, "where'd you get this? it must have cost a fortune!"

there was a slight pause before he spoke.

"um," he began, hesitance in his stance, "i inherited it from my gran-gran after she died."

i snatched my hand from the bed like the sheets were on fire.

"wait a minute," i said, "is this the gran-gran you told me passed away at home?"

he nodded.

"so you're saying..."

"yes," he interrupted, the words dropping from his lips like timed bombs, "she died on this bed."

*crickets*

*grasshoppers*

*frogs*

there simply aren't enough insects/amphibians to list how much silence was encompassed in the subsequent moments as i digested that bit of news. saying i was speechless would have been the understatement of the century. i was feeling like the infant who had yet to discover the existence of words. my mind was blank. all i could do was stare at him in horror with my mouth slightly ajar.

"y-your g-gran-gran...," i gulped the bile down, the words falling like corpses into a grave silence. he nodded in slow motion, as if by doing so my mind would be able to better understand the implications.

my glance ran from his face to the bed and back again. there was a new addition to the 'con' list and it was pretty huge. i mean, i have never to my knowledge fucked on a bed where someone else had died. frankly, i had a few questions for fingaz:

1. how in da hell could he sleep on the bed, let alone FUCK on the bed his gran-gran died on?!?
2. wait...that's about it.

so i asked straight up, cuz i thought it was the equivalent of boinking on top of a corpse.

"dude," i whispered with a shiver, "how could you..."

"fuck on gran-gran's bed?" he finished for me when it was obvious i was having difficulty stitching the inquiry to my lips.

"um...yeah..."

pause

"well," he began with a sigh, "i try not to think about it. i just remember gran-gran when she was well, not when she was sick."

shiiiiit. speak for yourself, buddy.

if there was such a thing as a clit retreating like a turtle into its shell, i'm thinking that's what my clit did. there was just no getting around the fact that he expected me to fuck on top of a grave. fuck all the 'pros'. somebody had died on that bed and i wasn't 'bout to get on it. i could get the death cooties or something.

FUCK DAT.

GROSS BASTID.

i turned to leave.

"i'm sorry, but i can't do it." i said as i practically ran to the living room. i was stuffing my feet into my sandals and grabbing for my keys at the same time. i wasn't even gonna say goodbye. shit. this mothafucka was crazy! he reached for me just as i opened the door.

"WAIT!" he burst, his fingers wrapped around my hand on the doorknob, "you can't leave like this."

"yes da hell i can!" i responded, a shiver splintering my spine.

and then this fool pulled me back to him, nestling his dick right in between my butt cheeks as he wrapped his lips around the skin on the side of my neck. he began nibbling with sensual intent. i squeezed my eyes shut, my toes curling as i felt the moist pressure of his mouth...and then his tongue...SHIT. his dick lengthened until it felt like a small tree against my back.

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT.

"let's make happy memories on that bed," he whispered into my ear as his teeth tugged on my earlobe gently. i could feel myself getting wet again, my clit throbbing terribly. i sighed with resignation.

damnit, i was about to fuck this cat on a deathbed.

"sista too horny to know better than to get the fuck out...right here..."

part four will come eventually...LOL