Free Making the Hook-Up by Cole Riley

fear thunder or lightening as much again. Do you think you can watch, while I break you off again?”
    â€œI’ll try.” Yanni nervously sat back in his lap and wriggled back onto Aden’s pulsing dick. He moaned from her fear-induced tightness and rapidly bloomed to steely hardness.
    He moaned in a whisper, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a better fit.”
    Still rolling her clit in its own juices, he started leisurely plowing his dick into her body from the back. He stopped only once, to spread her legs more widely apart by draping them across the arms of the chair, but immediately resumed his rhythmic expedition into her depths. While he explored her body from behind with his mouth, hands and cock, he started a gentle pep talk to calm and distract her. “A coward dies a thousand deaths, Yanni. You’re no coward, baby. You couldn’t have done what you’ve done in your life if you were a scaredy cat. You left a career some people would kill for, to become an artist. That took courage. You have to remind yourself that all it is, is just nature taking its course. It’s only a positively charged cloud
and a negatively charged cloud bumping into each another. It’s only precipitation.”
    If it hadn’t been thundering and lightning, and if they hadn’t been in the middle of the fuck of both their lives, Yanni would have undoubtedly let him have it for talking to her like a child. Between strokes, she chuckled to herself, A guy who’s terrified of mice, giving me a pep talk about thunder and lightning? How many people have been killed by a mouse bite? But, daaamn, this man can FUCK!
    Once again, he began to feel her hot inner flesh churning around his meat. She let go of all inhibitions and began a soulful, booty swirling bounce to counter his slow deep thrusts from down under. Now, oblivious to thunder, lightning or his endless chatter, Yanni crumbled under the skillful manipulation of his fingers and the slow rolling thrust of his hips. Aden, unable to hold out any longer, pulled her into him even tighter, and shuddered, rippling with several rounds of powerful spurts.
    Together, they chased the final throes of bliss, until they lay powerless—Yanni, with her eyes closed, heart pounding, and a fuchsia meteor shower slashing the maroon curtain of her eyelids, enjoying the burning tingle of having been thoroughly fucked, enjoying the last soft pulses of Aden’s penis, begrudgingly retreating from her, and Aden, collapsed beneath her, in the well-padded bedroom chair.
    In spite of what she thought of his little lecture on “fear,” Yanni came to consciousness feeling a cross between love and adoration for the man who had only been an intelligent friendly voice for the last year. She swiveled her body around to face him and lovingly kissed him awake.
    His eyes slowly opened and he smiled. “Wheeeeeeew!”
    â€œWheeeeeeew is right,” she whispered into his jaw, “but no more lectures on fear.”

    â€œWhen did you start writing my curriculum?” he snapped back with a laugh.
    â€œTonight, mouse boy,” she quipped sternly. He cringed for a second, and then they laughed between kisses.
    â€œAnd that bench stays here.”
    â€œNot without me.”
    â€œOh, all right!” she sighed into his chest, still damp from the love they’d made. Love? Lust? Whatever it was, it was on .

STRANGERS IN THE WATER
    R. Gay
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    I owe my existence to the frantic coupling of two strangers in 1937 in the shallow and bloody waters of the Massacre River that separates Haiti from the Dominican Republic. The story of this incident is told in hushed, awkward tones, on those rare occasions it is told at all, as if it is we who must bear shame for the indiscretion of my grandparents. My mother never speaks of it. She tries to distance herself from the geography of so much pain, and now, only travels to Haiti