Imani Wisdom: I Betcha I Can Make You Scream…


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Extra, Extra…read all about it! Imani sent us another piece to post! How very cool. Enjoy folks, we did!!!

I Betcha I Can Make You Scream

By Imani Wisdom

After long meetings with an important business client overseas, myself and a few business associates were flying back home on the company jet.  The quiet plane ride soothed me as I reclined in my seat, resting away any lingering public relations duties.  My time in Paris wasn’t all hectic, as I shopped in the finest Parisian stores, including a shop for lovers. I didn’t overspend in a place that would raise more than just eyebrows.  It tickled my fancy, as well.

“Emma,” called out my personal assistant, interrupting my near deep sleep.

Opening my eyes to a tall, stout woman with buttermilk skin and short dark hair, my personal assistant had her cell phone resting on her shoulder as if not wanting the caller to hear her.

“Emma,” she whispered. “It’s the editor of the Chicago Tribune. He needs to talk—”

“Tell him to call back!” I interrupted.

“But…” she stuttered.

I raised my head from the comfortable headrest to make sure my PA heard me loud and clear.  “I said for him to call me later. Whatever statement he wants, he’ll get it before the end of the day,” I said, again reclining my head and resting my eyes.

Apparently, she heard me, as she returned the phone to her ear, creating a magnificent lie.  I know that editor understood at that time things were hectic.  I have dozens of celebrities on my roll to spin or cover their bullshit, and I am paid well to work their bullshit.  So if an editor of a newspaper, twenty-four-hour news network, magazine, or a blogger, needs a statement badly enough they can wait.  Yes, I got it like that!

Then suddenly, I felt a small breeze because someone decided to sit in the seat next to me.  I opened my eyes with a near menacing stare, but to my surprise, it was one of my business associates who happened to be my husband.

“Hey, baby,” he smiled.

“It’s been a long day,” I said, returning the smile. “This is the first time we’re actually alone.”

He took my hand to kiss the back of my light mahogany skin.  My husband didn’t speak another word.  His eyes told the story of how much he missed me.  Of course, he attended all the business meetings with me, but he and I never had time to ourselves.  If we did speak, it was about work.

Then something came to mind. It was something that had been weighing heavy on my mind since I visited that store.  I looked deeper into his dark, mesmerizing eyes and he looked into mine.  For some reason, I think he knew what I was going to say.

“Baby,” I said, with a wicked smile, “I betcha I can make you scream before we land in Indy.”

With a raise of an eyebrow, my husband smiled with curiosity.  He leaned toward my lip-gloss glazed lips and landed a sweet kiss.  “What are you up to?” he asked.

“Follow me and you’ll find out,” I replied, raising from my seat wearing a black sleek one-piece dress, accentuating my curves.  Nearby was my huge Chanel bag that I grabbed to straddle over my shoulder.  The importance of carrying my purse wasn’t security concerns, but it was what was inside that I wanted to share with my husband—something I bought from that Parisian store.

As he joined me inside the restroom, we momentarily gazed at one another with deep passion.  I walked my pink stilettos toward his six-foot-five frame to feel my way under his beige sweater, touching his chiseled body.  A usual sensation pierced through my essence.  My nipples hardened and my vaginal walls suddenly contracted.  I wanted him like there was no tomorrow.

I planted a soft kiss against his juicy lips. The trails of his nectar traveled my neck, kissing me downward to my black dress.  He hoisted my petite body to the sink, raising my dress and getting a glimpse of my female wonder. The look on his face told me he wanted to give me pleasure beyond belief.  But before my husband’s lips nestled my clit, I quickly commanded, “NO, I want to shake up things.”

I slid off the sink, balancing on my stilettos, and put him against the sink.  As I was removing his belt, the clank of the buckle to get to his dick was turning me on.  Though devouring his masculinity was a goal that I had to achieve.

And there it was, his lustrous, manly stick resting inside my palm.  His smooth rigidness has been my satisfaction for ten years.  Yet I wanted to go out of the norm.  My husband always claims to have an open mind.  I believe it, but I wanted him to show it.

I’d salivated onto his dick, blowing it as though it was a candy cane.  Despite the fact his moaning didn’t suffice my purpose, I wanted to give to him more.  So I reached inside my purse to grab my new gift.

While I continued to lock my jaws around his bulgy veins, his moans were percolating to a slight roar.  My lip-gloss created invisible marks on his manhood and thighs, as he clinched his hands firmly on the sink.

“Oh, baby!” he whimpered. “That feels so good!”

Quickly, I stopped for a moment to put my finger to my lips.  “Shhhhh,” I said softly.  My hand caressed his smooth caramel skin without an expression.  “Do you trust me?” I asked him.  My husband anxiously nodded his head like a curious child.

Again, my mouth met  his manhood, sucking him hard.  As I firmly grasped his core, I gelled my gift and entered his door.  There were squirming and a few gasps on his part, but it eased to an unexpected pleasure.

The more I kept continuing my mission, the more I could sense he loved every moment of it.  His roars suddenly upgraded to whimpering and from whimpering to grunts.  Yet still no scream.

So I rammed in to him as if I knew what it was like to be a man, gliding in and out of him like a graceful piece of art.  My mouth firmed harder onto my husband, and I could nearly taste his sweetness.

Then all of sudden, he grabbed a piece of my hair while gritting his teeth with a long grunt.  “OH SHIT, BABY!” he screeched. “I’M ABOUT TO…”

And it happened, my husband’s moans, whimpers, and grunts had reached a level of screams.  My gift dug deeper and deeper while my lips adhered to his dick.

“OH MY…BABY…WHOA…” he screamed.

Then his rich sweetness met the tip of my tongue.  My mission was complete. I made him scream thousands of feet in the air.

While catching his breath, my husband wondered aloud.  “Baby, I can’t believe you just fucked me in my ass.”

“Well, don’t think of it like that,” I answered, cleaning my gift.  “Think of it like you had a joyous adventure.  But you liked it, though, right?” I concluded.

He kissed me as if not wanting to make the confession.  Though his wink said otherwise.  I knew it!

As we exited the bathroom, our employees and associates tried avoiding our eye contact.  I know they had to have heard our pleasurable moment.  So whatever they heard, oh well.

“Emma,” quickly said my PA.  She held my cell phone and pointed in my direction.  “It’s that editor again, Emma. He’s demanding to speak with you!”

I sighed and then kissed my husband once more before he joined the associates.  So I took my cell and finally replied to this editor in two words: “NO COMMENT.”
See? All in a days work!
© 2012, Imani Wisdom

Find more about Imain Wisdom on these sites
Imani Wisdom, author of  Zion’s Road: A Love Story about Faith and Redemption

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