Free Blue Collar Blues by Rosalyn McMillan

nut tonight. One good fuck.”
    “Don’t be crass, Cy.”
    “Just ghetto. I thought you liked it like that.”
    Thyme turned away. “That’s not fair. I don’t ridicule white folks’ music. I just don’t want to hear it when we make love. It screws up my rhythm.”
    “Hey. I love black soul.”
    She smiled. “But you can’t dance. You don’t have any rhythm.”
    “Excuse me,” Cy said, rotating his pelvis on top of her.
    “Except between the sheets.”
    Cy reached beneath the covers and removed her gown. He could hear her weak protests but ignored them. “You know you want it. Don’t fight me. It only makes me work harder.”
    “Stop. I’m tired, Cy.”
    Ignoring her weak protests, he kissed her softly on the lips. When he felt her mouth open to welcome his tongue, he kissed her more deeply, as if he were drinking in her whole mouth, tongue, and breath into his. His tongue grew more and more thrusting, as if it had become a sex organ itself.
    Reaching down, he massaged her breasts, then released himself from her kisses to suck each breast gently before tenderly tugging at her hardened nipples with his teeth.
    His fingers reached lower to caress her narrow waist, curvaceous hips, sliding his pressed palms around and down until he felt her soft mound. He could feel her hairs curling around his fingers as he gently teased the entrance to her moist womb.
    “Cy,” she sighed, reaching out to grab his throbbing penis. “Put it in, baby. I can’t wait.”
    He kissed her above her navel, then putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around. Lying his body over hers, he took pleasure in rubbing his flesh against hers, feeling the softness of her buttocks pressing deep into his abdomen. He moved in circles, pressing his penis deeper into the crevice of her buttocks, pinning her arms above her as he did so.
    He felt her moving beneath him, lifting her head to feel his neck curling around her cheek and slide down to rest at her shoulder. Together they moved to a snakelike rhythm until their bodies became moist with desire.
    “Put it in, baby,” she moaned.
    “Not yet.” He teased her further, pushing his penis down the bottom of her buttocks to part her lips. He dipped the tip a half-inch inside, and felt her pushing up against him, demanding full penetration. When she pushed up and he felt himself sliding deeper inside, he eased back out.
    He would not take her.
    “Please, Cy. I need it now, baby.”
    “Not yet.”
    He turned over onto his back and positioned her on top of his penis, easing her down slowly, a half-inch at a time. He lifted his buttocks moving ever so lightly, until their pubic hairs met for a brief kiss. They rotated their hips in reverse, building the tempo, gradually, faster and faster, clicking their pelvis bones until they were out of breath, then moved slower in one direction, plunging deeper, her vagina clasping his penis like a mouth.
    He pushed down to the very depths of her womb, and felt the juice on his thighs pouring from her. As he pushed, he could hear little sucking sounds as all the air was being drawn from her womb as his penis filled her. In and out he moved swiftly, admiring the way his penis glistened from the juice of her love.
    When her orgasm came, he followed seconds later. Still, he wanted more. The strains at Champion today made him want to make love to his wife all night.
    They lay together panting, her body on top of his, until their breathing slowed.
    Thyme rolled over onto her side and sighed with pleasure.
    Cy left the bed, standing nude in front of the wall of glass in their bedroom, which looked out on the Lower Straits of Lake Bloomfield. He opened the French doors and inhaled the fresh, cool air. He heard her stirring in bed. “Thyme, we need to get a boat to place out on the lake. A pontoon. They’re not terribly expensive. In fact, one will be delivered this weekend.”
    “You must’ve read my mind. I’d been thinking about the same thing.”