If you love erotic and explicit stories, this one is for you.

Once I had him deep inside, 

I began a slow rotation of my hips.

 I grimaced at the pale white wall.  

I put my hands on it to help push back into him, 

get his dick to fill up my body until 

there was nothing left of me inside.

I gasped, choked, and placed my hand on my chest. I glanced up at him and replied, “I am married. My husband, on a good day is a dog!”

“You can never have good sex from a drunk.”

“No, it depends on the person.”

“I agree but sometimes good sex is hard to come by! That is not easy, you know.” He began to rub my shoulder gently. He added, “Sweetie, not every problem is spiritual. You cannot solve physical problems with spiritual solutions.”

Before I could blink, his hand travelled slowly down my chest. He was within the reach of my bra. He made a push that left me vulnerable. He grabbed my breast and squeezed it gently. I turned my head away from him. I thought, I do not have to do this. I can stop right now. I can straighten up and walk out. But I did not. He pinched and twisted my nipple and I felt a unique feeling travel through my entire body. The pastor was within the walls of my temple. We were in the closet. Free from the troubles of this life. Just the two of us, there was no end to it, no end to our iniquity. He pulled the nipple, slowly build anticipation, then apply direct pleasure to every area and I was overcome with pleasure. He pretended he was trying to break free. I held him down. How could you travel this far and abandon me?

He stroked my head gently with a hand and pleasured my nipple with the other. My husband was the least of my worries. I just wanted to be free. I wanted a breath of fresh air. Dalmos rested my head on his thigh; he was hard and I was weak. We were both swimming in iniquity. I unzipped his trouser, took out his penis and put it in my mouth. I felt his body growing big and hard inside my mouth. With a long tongue, tender as the sweet movement of the morning breeze, I wrapped it around his penis. He was clean. No stench hung in the air, no rotten banana peel and no sour taste obstructed. I felt I had lemonade in my mouth and it was great.  Even though I hated the thought of another woman sucking my man’s penis, the pleasure outweighs any greed. Now we can actually share and allow Lady Tranquility to reign.

He pulled me up. We kissed as I squeezed his balls. He groaned in pain and pleasure. He was not comfortable; I must have squeezed them too hard. He gently pulled me to a corner where he pinned me with my face to the wall. He pulled down my underwear and rose up my skirt. He took me from behind. I pushed back, forced more of him into me. Once I had him deep inside, I began a slow rotation of my hips. I grimaced at the pale white wall.  I put my hands on it to help push back into him, get his dick to fill up my body until there was nothing left of me inside. The back shots were strong and he sustained it.

I suspected the pastor was on drugs. There was no slowing down. Soon I was out of control. As I began to moan aloud, he covered my mouth with his hand. “Please don’t put me trouble. This is where I get my daily bread. You must not jeopardize it. Let me have my honor. The usher is still in the building!” he whispered. “You cannot moan aloud this time. Don’t worry we will do it in someplace else next time.”

I nodded in agreement, barely muttered words that he could hear.

He was right. Moaning aloud could put the both of us in trouble. He was the resident pastor and I am a member of his congregation. Keeping me quiet was hard because I was under his spell and I doubt if I could ever recover. His penis was bigger than that of my man and he knew how to put it to use. The pastor knows how to make a tough woman crack. I was broken. He was my healer. This could be the reason why I have the nightmares. Each time we had sex, he has left me yearning for more. This is a terrible curse and I am finding it so hard to break. I was on fire and I could feel the heat on my face. “My vagina is yours. Fuck me like a dog!” I whispered to him, tears rolling down my happy face.

My vagina felt warm and at the same time cold. I was very wet. I tried to envelop him, to draw him in, and at the same time to press him out. His erection grew larger and harder. I felt I was about to burst wide open. It was the strangest sensation, something that went beyond simple sexual pleasure. With all the years I have been with Jimmy, he has never managed this. He was a mediocre but I love him. This pastor is a solid man and he knows his job inside out. He knocked me over and over.

There was a sudden and powerful release of sexual tension. He managed to leave his loads out of me. My hips were sprayed with hot sticky mess. It was beautiful because I had also reached orgasm. I think I had it two or more times. He kissed my neck, stroked my hair, he said, “Lizzy, thank you for reaching out today. I have wanted to see you. I nearly stopped at your house this morning. I have been worried about you because you were not returning my calls since we met over a month ago.”

“I deliberately did not want to pick your calls. You were calling too frequently and most of the time, Jimmy was there,” I shot back. “You forgot that I am married.”

“I must confess, I love you with all my heart. Jimmy is my friend but he is a terrible man! He drinks too much. He cannot satisfy you...”

I interjected. “Dalmos, I didn’t come here for sex. I came to see you because I have nightmare and I cannot sleep.”

He laughed and commented, “No, you don’t have any nightmares, my love. You were missing me and I understand.”

"Love Birds" from 

the unpublished

   book by 

Omoruyi Uwuigiaren.

You can 

read one 

of Ruyi's books here.

Lis Anna-Langston, author of "Tupelo Honey", has won in the New Fiction Category for the 2020 Independent Press Award.

TUPELO HONEY is the WINNER of NINE BOOK AWARDS including:

A 2020 Independent Press Award WINNER for New Fiction!

'Gritty, superbly written and packed full of unforgettable characters. A FINALIST and highly recommended.' 

~ The Wishing Shelf Book Awards 

A loveable, engaging, original voice, Tupelo brightens this accomplished tale of dysfunction in a family where “nothing had ever been right.”

~ Publishers Weekly ~

From the delicious title, (the spunky 11-year-old narrator was named after Elvis' birthplace) to every unconventional character and careful detail, Tupelo Honey is a delight. Set in rural Mississippi, with a cast of colorful southerners, it stars one dysfunctional family at the center of which is Tupelo Honey. Author Lis Anna-Langston gets into the head of her title girl completely, taking readers on a ride of a sort of haunted but beautiful mess. To paraphrase Tolstoy, it is the unhappy families that are unique -- and by definition, often more interesting. Tupelo Honey does not have an easy life, on the surface. Her mother is a drug addict, and mental illness lingers in her grandmother Marmalade's house like a hot humid August cloud. Yet Anna-Langston still fills it with gems. It is certainly not a dull life, one full of heartbreaks big and small, but this tough sweet girl pulls it off with aplomb. It is a treat from start to end. Langston has written rich, vivid characters, and painted a vibrant mosaic of a year in one young southern girl's life. It is a hard book to put down, and one you will not want to end. I envy its future readers.~ Teresa DiFalco ©2016 Parents' Choice ~When you read more than a hundred books per year, it’s exciting to find one that surprises you. "Tupelo Honey" by Lis Anna Langston is one of those, sneaking up quietly to bust expectations and leaves you thinking about the story long after closing the book. ~ Chanticleer Book Reviews ~

 

Lis Anna-Langston is a Parents' Choice Gold Book Award winner, a Moonbeam Children's Book Award winner and the Dante Rossetti First Place Award winner for YA Fiction. She is the author of Tupelo Honey, Skinny Dipping in a Dirty Pond and the short story collection, The End of the Century. Born in the South she loves writing about misfits, screw-ups, outlaws and people who generally do not fit into nicely labeled boxes. She loves zany, wild rides and is the recipient of many awards including; a two time Pushcart nominee, a five time World Fest winner, Telluride Indie Fest winner, Helene Wurlitzer Grant recipient, New Century Writers winner, a finalist in the prestigious William Faulkner Competition, & Second Place Winner of the Thomas Wolfe Fiction Award. She writes Young Adult, New Adult and Middle Grade novels and loves every second of it. Her fiction has been published in Word Riot, The Blotter, Petigru Review, Hot Metal Press, The Smoking Poet, Eclectic Flash Literary Journal, Paper Skin Glass Bones, 491 Magazine, Fiction Fix, The Monarch Review, 5x5 Literary Magazine, Red Booth Review, Hint Fiction Anthology, Chamber Four Literary Magazine, Emyrs Journal, Literary Laundry, Barely South Review, Flash Fiction Offensive, Flash quake Literary Journal, Steel Toe Review, Cactus Heart Press, Empty Sink Publishing, Prick of the Spindle Literary Review, Per Contra, Storyacious, Gravel Literary, Bedlam Publishing, The Merrimack Review, Vine Leaves Literary Journal, KaaterskillBasin Journal, Sand Hill Review, Conclave. Milk Journal and The MacGuffin Literary Review. You can learn more about her at

www.lisannalangston.com

Click here to buy 

her book on Amazon

Also Read 

Rambling on Borrowed 

Time by David Ellison

 

Dalmos Slept with his Friend’s Wife

“Some people are strange.

Do not test a strange man with a woman.

You will be disappointed. 

You will cry and gnash your teeth. 

His eyes are everywhere. 

He walks back and forth seeking whom to devour.

He can give any girl a chase.

If you want peace,

do not give him the key to your heart.”

It was a lazy sunset. I visited my friend. When I knocked on the door, his wife responded from the other side. She asked, “Who’s there?” Her voice was as soft as the savannah breeze.

Smiled paraded my face. The person that I had really come to see was in. “It’s I, Dalmos,” I replied in enthusiasm. I just could not wait to get into the house. I hope that if my friend is not in as it is sometimes, we will see each other. Keep the feelings alive until we are too weak to continue. She always get the best out of me. Quickly, I threw the door open and walked into the house. Stood akimbo in the middle of the sitting room, I probed, “Where is your husband?”

          She stared at me and returned her gaze to the mirror. She answered, “He went to the bar. I thought you were together.”

“No, I have better things to do with my life, Lizzy. He will not stop drinking. If he’s asked to choose between you and a bottle of beer, I doubt if you will ever cross his mind,” I enthused, smiled lewdly, walked to her, and sat down beside her. “You look so beautiful today. You are hot, baby! You deserve something better, Lizzy.” I could not hide my lust for her anymore. We have known each other. I have almost lost count of the number of times I had my way and every time we did it, she enjoyed it. I was the new kid on the block and she was my fantasy!

“In this age and time, I wonder how you are able to get your women. You don’t have anything new to say, Dalmos,” she quizzed, smiling. “Be romantic for once. I have always had the best. The best things in this life are for real.”

I cocked my head. “You cannot stop being philosophical. Do I take the remark for an approval?”

She paused. Lowered her mirror and turned to me. “Approval? For what?”

Chuckled, I explained, “The last time I brought you to your knees, you never wanted me to go. You were all over me. It was a pleasure you did not want to end. I am proud that I could make you happy. You know the difference. My friend looks frail from many years of drinking alcohol. I know he is never at his best. If he is not complaining about his waist, he is crying about lack of energy. That is not good enough, Lizzy. You are young. You are ravishing. You need a real man in your life!”

She stopped applying the makeup to her face and turned to me, she asked, “Did I ever tell you that my husband is not good on the bed? I lovee your energy does not mean you have me. Please we are too close. He must not meet us like this, Dalmos. Go and seat at the other side.”

“I did not come here to look for trouble!”

“Dalmos,” she shook her head. “We can’t do anything today. My husband is around. I just told you he went to the bar across the street.”

“I heard you loud and clear. He is always drunk. We are too smart for a fat drunk like him!”

She dropped the mirror on the table and our eyes met. She said, “I know. Dalmos, you cannot always have your way. Respect me and show your friend some respect. Even though it is difficult to resist you, I will prefer we do it some other time or somewhere else. We cannot have sex in this house today. I just do not want it to happen. He did not go far. You can take me out if you wish. Take me anywhere. I am not comfortable doing anything in this house. This is my matrimonial home. Let us honour it.”

 “Don’t be scared!” I threw my hand around her neck. “I will be fast! I promise!”

“STOP! Don’t push your luck too far.”  She pushed him away. “You are going to get us in trouble!”

Her words were ignored. Before she could blink, I pounced on her. Grabbed hold of the loosed end of her wrapper and forcefully slipped into her. She elicited a loud moan. She struggled valiantly as I ravaged her with my huge frame. Soon we glued to one another. I could see her tears of joy, which only came to an abrupt end because her husband staggered into the sitting room.

He was furious to see me humbling his wife on the bare chest of the earth! The man was heavily drunk.  Yet, he could tell something was not right. His own friend was bruising his wife. “Why is this happening in my house?” he cried out. “Dalmos, what are doing to my wife? Lizzy, why?” he threw out another question. The gift he bought for his wife slipped from his hands.

I jumped to my feet and my pant hung loosely to my waist. I tried to run but I stumbled on a piece of furniture and crashed on the floor. My friend pounced on him and we began to share blows.

Not satisfied with the delivery of his old fists, the man jumped to his feet. He dashed into the room and returned to the sitting room with a cutlass.

I was already on my feet. Sadly, I have sustained injuries from the fall and was limping to the exit.  The cutlass wielding man descended on me and lost his footing. He landed awkwardly on the floor and never recovered. Happy that the weapon did not hit him, I dashed out of the house and limped across the road.

Suddenly, a dreadful heart attack struck the man. Lizzy, his wife tried to revive him but could not prevail. Sensing that her husband had gone to meet his ancestors, the woman burst into tears. She wept bitterly.

She blamed herself for his death. She had betrayed her husband. With nothing better to do, she rose to her feet and rushed to the kitchen. She searched everywhere and found a knife. She paused and looked at the piece of steel as if she was pondering what to do with it.

Once she was clear on how to use it, she grabbed hold of the knife and pierced her veins and the knife slipped from her hand. As she bled from her hand, she staggered back to her husband and fell on him. She bled until she walked along side him to the silent world.

Dalmos did not stop running. Trying to keep his pace and looking back at interval, he ran into the path of an oncoming vehicle and added his poor soul to the tragedy.  The truck knocked him off the road and he landed on the sidewalk with his face to the ground. The truck driver sped off.

Dalmos choked and gasped in the pool of his own blood. He struggled valiantly against the incoming blackness and breathed his last.

 

                                   *            *             *

 

Mollech was right and I was wrong. I felt ashamed of myself. My action had robbed the couple of their lives. The sacred bowl was worth the risk and stress. The scene disappeared from our gaze and my distress mounted.

I burst into tears and fell to my knees with nobody to console me. Mollech was cold and crossed his arms over his body. Then he coughed and our eyes met. He shook his head. He swallowed hard and said, “Find your home in the north!” He turned and walked away.

“No! I am coming with you!” As I got up and raced after him, the ground underneath me cracked as if an earthquake was imminent. Goz and his men emerged from the ground. They overwhelmed me and one of them knocked me over with a single blow.

I cried aloud, called the dwarf, “Mollech help me! Help me! Do not do this to me! Help me!” My cry ignored as Mollech faced the way he had come.

After covering a short distance, he paused and turned to me. He said, “My pact with you is done, Dalmos. I was punished because of you.

“I rescued you from your tormentors when I should not have done so. When you escaped, I had no choice but to find you and bring you to them so that I can be free.

“Now I am free to water my garden and catch as many fishes as I want in the river. You do not need me anymore. I doubt if our paths will ever cross again. If we eventually meet again, please bear no grudge against me. I did what I had to do, because it profits me nothing to share in your pains. It’s sad but it is true.”

After the long oratory, he waved his tiny hands at me. He turned and walked away. He never looked back. Mollech walked very fast until he moved into a shadow.

 It was my cross. It was my sacrifice. It was my misfortune. My lust had brought this upon me.

As they pummeled me to the ground like a common criminal, one of them tied a rope to my legs and dragged me into the ground. One after another, Goz and his men followed us into the ground. Once the ground had swallowed us, the crack disappeared.

Written by Omoruyi Uwuigiaren

 

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