The Punany Experience (2 page)

and has kept her skills on point for nearly twenty years

but never this way

Damn!

My momma told me he was gay!

I was thinking this when he stepped into the shower

He washed my body

kissed me everywhere

just like he used to

and did that thing he does with his thumbs

massaging my inner thighs down to the bone

gently stretching my pussy with circular motions

until I had the urge to press down

and give birth to another level of

our homie-lover-friendship

I was melting in the heat

I cooled the water down

Kissed the softest lips I have ever known

and said goodbye to love making as I had known it with him

My momma

and the women of her generation

would have stopped us dead in our tracks

because there are some things you just don’t hang out to dry

What was going down tonight

was definitely going to leave some dirty laundry

She made it easy to get started

She didn’t believe in awkward moments

He stepped out of the shower

She pushed me into him

He held me tight

lit a joint, passed it around

The kissing commenced quickly

I couldn’t suck her pussy with the strap on

and her legs so tight, like they always are for me

so I sucked her dick

then his

He ate my pussy

then tongue kissed her ass

She ate my pussy then tongue kissed him

then put her tongue to his rim

for a very long time

he wanted to enter her

she wasn’t having it

I stepped out of the room to grab two rubbers

while they decided who’s on top

and what’s on second

I don’t know,

third base came so quickly

I didn’t have time to think

I sat back and took a lesson in testosterone

waiting just a few moments to see if

he would give the ass up right away

A few more of her famous tongue lashings

inside and outside of his asshole

she was going to be in there

I couldn’t bear to watch him go out like that

I wanted to know, but I couldn’t watch

So I did what any woman

in denial about the sexual preference

of a man she’s loved since childhood would do…

I slipped my body under his shoving hips into his

I spread my legs

Spread them wide

opened my pussy up in the candlelight

Wet my finger

slapped my clit

pushed two fingers in and out of myself

testing the waters with my own tongue

and

attempted to flood the room

with the intoxicating pheromones

of my good pussy

but all I could smell was ass

as she dug into him

with such aggression,

her force urged him deeper inside of me.

Part of me hoped for a fast win in this

war between tops and bottoms

for the sake of my health

Cuz this was 2004

and I had been fucking a man who

desired a dick in his ass

for nearly half of my life

The other parts of me were

extremely turned on

extremely jealous

and angry

over how I had been a sexual fool

seeing all the signs, heeding no warning

What was more, I hadn’t even been giving him,

what he was really looking for

My body grew hotter

as he kissed me and briefly remembered me

calling my name

I drew my pussy like an M16

and fired into the dark

He spread my thighs wider

Fucked me with his tongue

Sucking my fat pussy lips

on the up stroke

a couple feet away I could hear her tongue

lathering up his ass

His hips began to roll

Pow! She slapped it with a magical sting

and raised the ass high into the air

with the power possessed in her fingertips

My man was now my woman’s bitch

And the 9-inch dick I had picked

from a little Berkeley sex boutique,

that reminded me of my husband,

and gave to my lesbian lover

to fuck me with,

was in my soul mate’s ass

deeply, in his ass

“Stop.”

he pronounced

candy in my ears

She withdrew

He caught his breath

Then whispered

“Tell her to put it back in.”

My pussy got numb.

He continued to fuck me, I think.

Mostly, she fucked him

She fucked him, and busted so many times

before they finally came together

Their unified moans and grunts

were like a song, a dirty rap song

I added some curse words and moans

of my own but my pussy was only wet

with her juices

as they shot on his ass and thighs

and dripped down to tease me.

But he still wanted to enter her

in four years, I hadn’t even put a finger inside of her

she almost didn’t lay down for that

gave it the political lesbian try

before her legs were spread so far apart

I didn’t recognize her or her porn star vocabulary

The pair weren’t fighting anymore

“Thank you, thank you, thank you”

he repeated emphatically

over and over as he dressed

He really meant that shit.

I had two G’s in my bed

giving me the kind of truth

you don’t even get in church

I had no reason to be mad

I set the whole thing up

I had asked for a pass to a game that was not for suckers

He wanted something that I wasn’t willing to give

and now that I know this

I can choose not to put myself at risk

I wasn’t mad anymore.

because I was no longer a fool,

just maybe a little grossed out.

I mean, except for the fact that

the entire room smelled like ass

It might have even been cool.

But the thought of where his ass goes

on nights he can’t find a woman

so willing to engage in anal play

was a little bit scary

It was 4:15 when he went home to his wife

I drank my girl’s cold coffee

Sat down at my computer and ordered

a new dick online

—T. C
ALLOWAY

He wasn’t like any of the other men in the church. He did not dress like a deacon. He did not speak like a saint, but Brother Marcel Samuels could sing like a Temptation. He was nineteen years old, suave, and confident. He was a regular guy from the neighborhood, like the ones with Jheri curls, and puff coats that hung in front of the Dolomite Liquor store where Stormy Talbert shopped for candy after Sunday school; the store with the spinning rack of pantyhose and stockings that got her in all that trouble one day. Brother Samuels had all of the traits that made people stand out in the Oakland, California neighborhood—light skin, good hair, green eyes, and savoir-faire. He could have been a pimp, a player, or a gigolo but instead, he was newly saved, baptized, and filled with the Holy Ghost, making every Sunday feel like Motown as his long, neatly manicured fingers danced across the ivory keys with the Midas touch.

“This young man can spin gospel into gold,” Pastor told the church on the day he appointed him Minister of Music at Faithful Baptist Church. Pastor and the entire church body hoped young Marcel would lead them to gospel stardom in a land that had been dominated by the Hawkins family for years. The truth was, most folks knew little to nothing about him. He was a pied piper from the projects, who had increased church membership by nearly thirty percent in a few months, with his silky voice and golden touch. Pastor never even asked him if he wanted to be baptized. He offered him a salary and dipped him for political posture in
the pool beneath the movable floor of the choir stand. He fought a bit as Pastor and a deacon pushed him under, a washcloth over his mouth, a hand on his hands, which were folded over his chest, as he went down into the water.

Brother Marcel Samuels brought the mothers’ board to weeping and wailing as he arose from the pool in a heartrending rendition of “Soon-a Will be Done.”

On the first Sunday following Brother Samuels’ baptism, Stormy sipped the unfinished portions of grape juice from the tiny communion glasses she had been assigned to wash in the church kitchen, and tried to be invisible as she eavesdropped on her mother’s conversation in the hallway right outside the kitchen door.

“I don’t like it; I can’t help the way I feel,” her mother said. “That young man is too worldly to be in this church.”

“Now, Sister Talbert, that’s not fair; we were all worldly before we came to Faithful Baptist. Lord, have mercy on my soul, for the woman I used to be, and the things I used to do!” Sister Thompson exclaimed with a hand in the air.

“Amen to that!” Sister Sarah chimed.

“Bless you!” Sister Thomas retorted.

“You know, Sister Thomas, I understand where you’re coming from, but you’re hardly influencing these young people from where you sit on the second pew. That little heathen is in a very important position, leading the choir. He’s got all these girls showing out.”

“It’s not only the girls,” Sister Thomas said, cutting her eyes at Sister Sarah. “It’s the women, too.”

“Hmm,” Sister Sarah said. “Well, I, for one, don’t see any harm in having him.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t. And you two shouldn’t either. He’s representing the neighborhood. We haven’t had so many people from this
neighborhood join the church since Brother Samuels came,” Sister Sarah told the women.

“That’s what I am afraid of.” Sister Talbert felt herself becoming angry. “We don’t want too much of the neighborhood inside the church.”

“My, you’re judgmental lately,” Sister Thomas said.

“If recognizing trouble means I’m being judgmental, Sister, then I’m guilty as charged. You can judge me all you want, but one thing I know for sure is that being Christian doesn’t make you Devil-proof.”

“This is true,” Sister Sarah said. “But being Christian doesn’t mean you aren’t human either. Listen, I love Jesus as much as the next Christian; you see what I’m saying? But I’m also a woman. Haven’t you noticed how many women are coming to church, now that we have Brother Samuels?”

“They’re coming for the wrong reason,” Sister Talbert complained.

“No, no, Sister Talbert, she’s right,” Sister Thomas said. “No matter why they’re coming, they still get the same word of God that we do. Pastor sees to that. You have to keep your faith. Besides, with women come children and, in their lives, Christ Jesus can make a real difference.”

“I agree. So what if they’re coming for the music or simply to look at him? It’s not a sin to look,” Sister Sarah replied.

Sister Thompson laughed. “That depends on how many times you look.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sister Talbert said. “It depends on what you’re thinking about when you’re looking.”

“You can say that again,” Sister Sarah said, giggling.

“But really, ladies, I think Pastor should be ashamed of himself for letting a sinner lead the choir simply because he can sing and play like a professional,” Sister Talbert said.

“Sister Talbert, you’re much too bitter for your own good these days. I don’t mean any disrespect to you at all, so please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think bitterness and anger can make you sick.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’ll have to ask my doctor if he has some happy pills for my Cynical Cancer.”

“Stop it, you two.” Sister Sarah glanced over Sister Talbert’s shoulder at the young, green-eyed beauty gliding down the church hallway, removing his choir robe. “Shhh, here comes the little pretty boy now.”

Underneath his robe he wore a white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, revealing the silver cross all newly baptized members received, and a pair of pleated baggie slacks that kind of danced in the breeze of his trail. There was a hint of a player’s drag in his right foot as he walked toward them in midnight blue, snakeskin Stacy Adams.

“Ladies…” Brother Samuels nodded at the women as he passed, leaving them in a fog of Calvin Klein cologne. He walked into the meeting hall, opened the closet where the choir robes were stored, and hung his inside.

“Stop staring at that boy’s ass,” Sister Sarah said under her breath. She cleared her throat. “That was quite a performance you gave today, Marcel.”

Brother Marcel looked up at the women, then up and down at Sister Sarah to find out if the flirtation in her eyes was also in her hips. He smirked and nodded slowly as he walked toward the church hens. From this direction, with the kitchen light shining through, he could see that Sister Sarah wasn’t wearing a slip under her pink silk dress. Just behind her, he could see Stormy washing communion glasses.

“Thanks, Sister,” he said. “But it’s these beautiful angels ya’ll
have given me to work with; they make the heavenly sounds you heard.” He stepped behind Sister Sarah, letting his shoulder brush against the woman’s back. He leaned into the kitchen door. “There’s one of them now. Hey there, Stormy.” Stormy could feel those familiar butterflies flutter about her insides when he said her name. “I’ll see you at choir rehearsal next week, right?”

“Yes, of course, Marcel. I’ll be there.”

“That’s a grown man you’re speaking to. You’ll address him as Mister or Brother Samuels. That is your name, right?” Sister Talbert checked with him.

“Oh, yes, ma’am. Brother Samuels will do fine.”

He smiled softly at Stormy and brushed against Sister Sarah once more, before retreating back down the hall.

“Please don’t get any bright ideas about calling me by my last name, Stormy,” Sister Sarah said. “If I hear anyone say Sister Dippman, I’ll be looking around for my mother!”