I was scared. These thoughts weren't appropriate. This was supposed to be zipless. A one-time exchange of plea sure, then back to our normal lives, as if we never met.

His angel was staring at me, her body wrapped in wings. Kenya was watching me. Her image was so clear, as clear as photos taken by a professional with an expensive Nikon. As I stared at her unmoving face, I listened to the thunderous orgasms, imagined each orgasm belonged to her.

I imagined she belonged to him.

Part of me wanted to gather my clothes, dash out of this room. Maybe just slip out quietly, shut the door on this experience. My fear was as dark as the city outside, trepidation crackling like its thunder.

That other part of me.

That other part of me came to life, the part ruled by desire, and my darkness hushed me.

I had tasted honey and now, before I left this experience, I wanted to possess the honeycomb.

Desire whispered in my ear. I moaned, touched one breast, my other hand touched between my legs. Thunder boomed. Lightning lit up the room. Rain fell with a steady rhythm.

A steady rhythm.

I desired a steady rhythm moving in and out of me.

Dick.

I desired dick.

Not the beauty of lingam, not the crudeness of cock, not a clinical penis, but the stiffness of dick.

I eased under the covers, took that erection in my mouth...suckled him slowly...became a gentle alarm clock...roused him back into this world...made him stir...suckled him until he let out baby moans.

I scooted over, reached for the glass of Riesling on the nightstand, dipped his penis in the Riesling, made him taste like pears and peaches, then sipped his hardening flesh. He held my face, touched my skin, and looked down at me. I kissed the tip of his penis. Put another kiss between his thighs. Then another soft kiss on his balls. Then I held his penis, blew air on his gorgeous flesh.

I smiled at him, started licking my lips. I looked in his eyes. Gave him that brief look, the one that spoke of desire, my serious look. My mouth was watering, my tongue touching the head of his penis while I was wrapping my right hand around his erection. I started lubricating him, used my saliva, let my natural juices make him wet, started stroking it real slow...up and down...made circles.

His hand came to my head, eased me down on his hardening muscle.

I sucked him the same way he had taken his mouth and tongue and hands to me earlier...I felt empowered...felt as if I was taking what I deserved...I felt entitled to plea sure...then...his hips moved...let me know that he was with me...he was growing...becoming sturdy...his sex achieving girth...and weight...stretching my mouth...filling my hands...barely able to make my thumb touch my finger...larger than his twin...but not as long...made him moan...felt so selfish...taking him...with my mouth...as if this were my rape fantasy in reverse.

The skies exploded, the reverberation from naughty angels achieving simultaneous pleasures.

The covers moved, slipped away from my feet.

We weren't alone.

I didn't look back. Just moaned and tingled when I felt the chill from strong hands touching my backside, squeezing my butt. Imagined I felt some jealous energy moved from his hands into my body.

That excited me.

I kept masturbating the naughty photographer. Karl's legs tensed, began shaking.

He wanted to come.

I lubricated him...as I stroked him...licked him...his strong hips rising...his intensity giving me energy...loved how he felt inside my mouth...loved his gentle thrusts...loved the way he was moaning as I rubbed his hairless balls. The primal side of my brain was alive, the animal side in control of me.

Wished I had one of his cameras so I could photograph his look of pain and plea sure.

Behind me, I felt Mark moving. Had expected Mr. Developer to step back and watch. Maybe leave. But he was touching me. Whispering my name. Bringing me back to him. Demanding my attention. Needing to feel special.

He shifted around, made me get up on my knees, then he was getting up under me. His tongue moved up my thigh. Following the trail of heat. Licking me like his life depended on it. He was killing me. Licking slowly. Licking fast. Shallow. His tongue deep. Eating me into a sex haze.

Oh God.

His tongue went so deep. Felt the bridge of his nose up on my wetness.

Then he...

Oh God.

Put his finger inside my chocolate star. In degrees. Testing the limits of his exploration.

Oh God.

He twirled his finger. Felt so good. Worked his finger. In and out of my tight hole.

And his tongue went in and out of my vagina at the same time. So much stimulation. So much plea sure. I wailed and moaned. I purred. I wiggled. His tongue took the place of his finger.

I almost lost it, my beautiful singsong moan masked by the excitement of thunder.

Mark was making me want to come.

Again I fought with the orgasm, wrestled with that beast. Pushed it away. Told it to get the hell away from me. Fought to keep my control. It was a good battle. A battle that I was losing one lick at a time. He was doing what he wanted to do. Making me come. That orgasm being held at the gate.

I masturbated Karl. Made him jerk. Made him moan like he was on fire. Made Karl wail like he was singing the Rio de Janeiro blues. His erection was alive in my hand. Throbbing. Swelling. A separate entity. His hands slapped down, became fists as he pulled at the covers. His erection danced. His moan echoed. His erection seeped. He wailed. He was mine. He was at my will. I owned him.

In that moment I belonged to Mark.

But Karl belonged to me.

His erection was throbbing and seeping a long stream of jism. Like it was crying.

Tears flew high.

Karl's body jerked like he was being kicked, he groaned and coughed, grabbed at the sheets the same way I had done earlier, like he was falling and trying to break his rapid descent, his back arching, his every muscle coming to life, his orgasm a magnificent ride, as if he couldn't stop coming.

Creamy tears oozed down the side.

So many tears. Thick and rich tears.

I watched until his erection began to soften, held its strength as he continued crying the tears of procreation.

I masturbated him so good, made the last of his tears roll down his erection over my hand. Those tears, so hot, so arousing. I closed my eyes, imagining, wishing I had taken every orgasmic tear in my mouth, wished I had made them disappear, swallowed his jism, left him clean, as if his orgasm never existed. Those thoughts aroused me even more. Caused me to lose my breath while my heart beat at an unbridled pace.

My desires took hold of me, led me. I did not struggle with my needs, this time becoming submissive to myself. I took him in my mouth, tasted him. He held my face as the last of his come warmed the back of my throat, his come so warm and sweet. I swallowed the sweetest nectar I had ever tasted. I moaned, devoured him as if I were starving, as if I were dying of thirst. Years ago I trembled at the thought of giving oral sex. Was terrified to taste the seeds of a man.

Now it was an acquired taste and I hungered after it the way a career smoker craved nicotine. I enjoyed the sensation of feeling the sweet, warm, creamy fluids as they left a man's body, loved the way a man felt against my tongue, loved creating the magical explosions that went down my throat.

The things we craved. Our silent desires. Our little addictions.

Karl jerked a hundred times, jerked like he was in the middle of intense physical plea sure, plea sure that was out of his control, his nervous system leading him through the gates of euphoria. He was strong, the way his solid muscles contracted, the way his pelvic muscles did the same, the way he clenched his butt and strained, all of that was breathtaking. He slowed down. Found control of his muscles. I kept stroking him until he let go of the sheets, until he put his hand on top of mine. Stopped me from stroking him. He was sensitive. That part of him softening and throbbing like a rapid heartbeat.

I licked my lips.

Smiled because I loved that I was giving satisfaction and I was being pleasured.

Mark...I felt the bridge of his nose...he was licking me like ice cream...tasting me.

Karl moved out from under me, breathing hard, touched my body, touched my face, kissed me, soft erotic kisses, whispered how beautiful and sexy I was, talked to me and held me while his brother's tongue licked my sex, opened my sex, went inside my sex. It was impossible to concentrate. The way I was being licked and sucked and fingered...couldn't concentrate. I held on to the one I had pleasured. Held his strong body against mine. I was being licked...over and over...he was playing that same tongue-song over and over...like my favorite record on repeat...heard sweet music as I floated away...beautiful music...heard guitars and mandolins...couldn't do anything but shake my head left to right.

Oh God.

The one I was holding, Karl, the one with the angel tattooed on his flesh, he was stroking my hair, touching my face, sucking my neck. Too sensitive. I was too sensitive. Had to...had to...I pushed him away. Pushed him away and pushed up as I wrestled with the tingles that were driving me up that winding road to paradise. I put my hands over my mouth, muffled my moans.

Karl moved my hands and kissed me. He eased his tongue inside my mouth.

I sucked his tongue, kissed him as I made obscene sounds, then I stopped kissing because I was about to come, unable to breathe, as if the fire had stolen the oxygen from the room.

Karl eased away from the bed, left me whining and wrestling with Mark's fingers and tongue.

As plea sure moved through me, I turned my head, stared through the darkness in the room, looked through the sheer white curtains, saw the lightning doing a sweet dance in the distance, inhaled and imagined I could smell and feel the dampness brought on by the rain.

I was looking for Karl. He was gone.

Had left me holding his brother's head between my legs, left me getting licked to high heaven. I jerked and moaned and trembled like my San Andreas Fault was coming undone. My hands went to the top of Mark's head, pushed him deeper, pushed his tongue toward the epicenter of that violent plea sure.

He slowed down. As I was about to come he slowed down.

Kept me at the edge.

Mark whispered, "You like that?"

All I could do was whimper, so I whimpered and made crazy, sexy sounds.

Again he whispered, "You like that?"

I moaned so damn loud.

Karl touched me. He had come back. He put his hands in my hair, touched my face. I thought my photographer, my bad-boy lover, thought he had deserted me.

He was right there. First his face was near mine, then his tongue was on my ear.

He whispered, "Open your mouth."

I did what he asked. Readied myself to receive girth. Length. Hardness. Wanted to experience and take plea sure in more than a skilled tongue. Breathing labored, I licked my lips, made them moist, and opened my mouth wide. My heartbeat sped up. He put his fingers inside my mouth. Three fingers. I sucked his damp fingers. Mango. His damp fingers tasted like ripe mangos.

I gazed toward him long enough to see he had a bowl in his hand. He took a slice of mango from the bowl. Eased it inside my mouth. Fed me. He fed me as I was being eaten.

He fed me mangos. Slice after slice. I moaned and he fed me.

I ate as I was being eaten, mango juice dripping from my mouth down my neck, down my chest, across my breasts, my hands grabbing sheets, back arching, tingles growing.

Lightning, thunder, and rain were outside the window, coming down harder and faster.

Karl whispered, "Open your mouth, sweetie. Open your mouth for me."

My breathing was choppy, erratic. Felt like a thousand orgasms were kicking at my door. It was a struggle, but I did, I opened my mouth. Karl put slices of mango inside my mouth, ate the slices with me, and kissed me. Mark was loving my vagina, eating my yoni like he was trying to prove a point. The twins were competing. And it was a wonderful competition.

My eyes were rolling into the back of my head. My mouth was barely open.

My pre-orgasm face betrayed me, my expression extremely unpretty, like that of a woman crying. My hands became fists. Muscles tightened. Spasms rolled through my body in gigantic waves. Thunder boomed and Oh God I was shuddering uncontrollably. I told everyone in the W that I was coming. I told everyone in Cherokee, Gwinnett, Paulding, and Fayette counties I was coming.

I announced to the world I was coming.

Sucking the nectar from Karl's fingers and coming.

NINE.

A sweet tenderness existed where a raging fire had once resided.

My yoni was sore, that mild ache reassuring me this surreal moment was true. So was my right knee, it was sore as well, injured. I ran my finger across my pain. Traces of blood ran from my right knee toward my shin, my injury fresh and tender.

I was smiling as I exited 285 and took Spring Road back toward Park at Oakley Down, Carina Ayiesha's CD playing loud on my sound system, singing along with the song "Siente La Musica Dentro."

With passion I whispered, "Cosmological Eye."

I felt glorious. The lewd and vulgar acts had been astonishing. Both men had been amazing lovers. And I had pleased them as well. There was satisfaction in pleasing. Everything had been so smooth. So balanced. As if the sex gods had sent four strong hands and two skilled tongues to move across my breasts and my yoni, all of that happening at once. The sensory overload was breathtaking.

Their aromas were on my damp flesh, the fragrances of AXE Phoenix and Egoiste mixed with hints of my perfume. A tongue on each breast, then tasting lingam while I was given cunnilingus.

Mango stained my flesh from my neck down across my breasts, their tastes still on my tongue.

I held my steering wheel as if I had them in my hands.

The echo of baritone voices moaning out of sync sent shivers down my spine.