Free Man Swappers by Cairo Page A

God’s sake.” She pauses, pursing her lips. “You know. We need to call Felecia and invite her out for dinner so we can pump her gossiping-ass up with drinks, then get her to spill the dirt. You know she always has her nosey-ass posted up on Facebook and BlackPlanet, so I know she knows something.”
    I laugh. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I reach for my phone. “I’m gonna text her right now.”
    “Tell her we can either meet up for drinks and dinner, or she can come here.”
    “No, tell her to come here,” Paris suggests. “That way we can talk more freely.”
    Persia agrees. “Good point.” She pours herself another drink. The three of us get lost in Eric Roberson’s vibe the minute his song “Dealing” starts playing. I lay my head back and close my eyes. I’m not sure where Persia and Paris mentally slip off to, but I imagine candles lit and my pussy being eaten.

Pain
CHAPTER EIGHT
    “ C ome kiss my pussy,” I say in a throaty whisper, spreading open my legs. From soft gentle kisses to deep, tongue-probing French-kissing, I love the feel of a man’s tongue all up on it and in it. Damon walks over to me, kneels down between my legs and does what he is told, using his mouth and tongue to stimulate all the sensitive areas of my pussy and clit, circling his tongue all over and around it. We are in the Fuck ’Em Down room, decorated in red and black. This is our anything goes room. There is a 4-Point Sling Stand in the far left corner of the room, and a doggy-style sex machine—which can fuck you in the ass or pussy, with a waist bar in the right corner. Over on the other side of the room is a black leather sex swing.
    Damon lays his tongue flat against my clit, then flaps it up and down, dragging it along the front and back of my sticky slit. I moan. “Mmmmm, yeah...just like that...Ohhhh, yesssssss...eat my pussy, you nasty fuck...mmmph...you like having a mouthful of pussy?”
    He grunts, nodding his head. He tries to talk with his mouth full, but his words come out garbled. I playfully smack him. “Don’t talk. Eat. Lick. And stick. Uhhhhhhh...ooooooh...” He sticks his tongue deep into my hole, then jabs it. My pussy grabs at his tongue, pulls it in deeper.
    “You ready for Mommy to fuck you deep in that hairy ass?”
    He grunts.
    “Yeah, I know you want Mommy to take that sweet, manly ass. I’m gonna fuck you real good; okay, baby?”
    He nods his head, grunting and groaning while keeping his mouth clamped over my pussy, his tongue expertly zig-zagging all around it. Hearing what I am going to do to him causes him to increase his suction on my pussy. He is turned on by the idea of being penetrated. A sexual taboo he secretly yearns.
    Being able to fuck him (or any man) into submission moistens my pussy. From mild to wild, my cunt drips with delicious anticipation as I lure him into forbidden, sexual bliss. Naked and vulnerable, it excites me to be in control of his fantasies; to be the orchestrator of his deepest, darkest desires. To introduce him to a sexual side of himself he never knew existed; an unchartered, unexplored world of deliciously sweet pain.
    I am not a sadomasochist. I am not a Dominatrix. I am Pain. Not because I enjoy inflicting intense physical pain. It is the pain of the unknown caused by edging a man to an orgasm, then denying him release; it is the torture of him not knowing when he will be allowed to release that brings him the greatest pain. And it is in that anguish that causes my pussy to swell and erupt into a gushing waterfall. Denial of release while being teased and tickled can be excruciating torture.
    When I go into character, pretending to be what I am not, most of my encounters with men are mostly sensual. Although there are a few who insist, beg, for intense pain. And I happily oblige. But, even then, like tonight...I have my limits.
    I do not always allow them to fuck me. Nor do they always expect to. But I will fuck them. Lovingly or rough and