The Quickie Chronicles: "Like a Good Neighbor...."

I usually handled any documents or policy updates via email or telephone, but for some odd reason, Ms. Sheryl, my State Farm Agent, wanted me to come into her office to discuss the Supplemental Life Insurance plan I was curious about. There was something different about this request, but I figured speaking with her, in person, wouldn't be an issue.

When I entered her office, instead of shaking my hand, she gave me one of those "Baptist Church Choir Member" hug and kiss combinations. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Francois. I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience." After looking her up and down, there were no problems, at all.

Ms. Sheryl was a seemingly distinguished, "seasoned" Black woman. She kinda reminded me of the dark-skin Aunt Vivian, but with an overstated flirtatious vibe like Eartha Kitt and a shape like Nia Long. I had been in a bit of a drought, and there was something about her that had me intrigued. As she talked through my existing policy and coverages, I couldn't help but wonder what it'd be like. I envisioned being her Pool Boy, and I even considered what would happen if I worked at her agency. "I see someone needs help focusing." Ms. Sheryl must've caught be staring off into space, because she stood up, and moved from behind her desk.

Ms. Sheryl turned her computer screen around, and proceeded to sit next to me. As she leaned over to point at things on the screen, I still found myself thinking about everything except for what she was trying to show me. My thoughts got dirtier and nastier by the second, and unfortunately my body started to reveal the secrets of my mind. I was rock-hard, trying my best to hide the erection pressing against my thigh. It was all cool, until she noticed I kept shifting in my chair.

Ms. Sheryl glanced back towards me, looked down, and saw the world's worst kept secret. "Excuse me, Mr. Francois, but is there something going on?" I couldn't do anything besides apologize profusely, and avoid making eye contact with her. I was so embarrassed, not because I was turned on, but because she caught me.

Then it happened.....

I felt Ms. Sheryl's hand on my knee. However, this wasn't a consoling touch. She gently opened and closed her hand, rubbing my knee suggestively. "We can discuss the more 'pressing' matter, if you like, Mr. Francois." I ain't gone lie, I was bout it. I looked at her, and placed my hands on my zipper. I did it slowly, just in case I read way too much into her statement. "Ms. Sheryl, are you sure about this?" Instead of responding, she moved my hands, and finished unzipping my pants.

Dick now out in plain sight, Ms. Sheryl grabbed the lotion from her desk, applied an ample amount to her hands, and turned towards me. She put her right hand over the tip, left hand at the bottom of the shaft, and slowly began to work her hands towards each other. I slid down further into the chair, to make sure she had a good angle.

Once I was slick enough, Ms. Sheryl interlocked her hands and fingers, creating a makeshift pocket, and began to beat the dick up. I mean it felt like she was punching me, and it hurt so good. She then slowed it down, and stretched me up as high as she could, while firmly stroking me with the opposite hand. Every few seconds, she would pause and run her fingernails along the shaft, something that was fairly new / rare, to me. Once I started shifting and moving around more in the chair, Ms. Sheryl must've known she had me.

With both hands engaged, she began to beat and twist my dick, her forearms flexing with each stroke. She was moving so fast with it, and while it was tough, I wasn't going to complain, especially since I was moments away from a nut. Oh and when she switched back to that pocket thingy, it was a done deal! I clenched the arms of the chair, sat up and came all over her hands and my pants. Did she stop? Nope! While it was still throbbing, she pulled down on the shaft, exposing the small bumps underneath the head. She gently massaged them with her thumb, smiling the entire time.

Just as smoothly as she'd moved from behind her desk, she stood up and returned back to her original seat. Ms. Sheryl handed me a few Kleenex, and gave me a minute to compose myself. Once resituated, I sat awkwardly quiet, not really knowing what to say. Ms. Sheryl broke the silence. "I'll have my assistant email you the details of the Life Insurance policy. If you need help making a decision, or are interested in other services, come back and see me."

......I now have enough insurance to cover my Great-Great Grandkids.....

The Quickie Chronicles: Happy Hour Sushi

The sound of the shower provided both a sense of calm and anxiousness. I was uncertain of what would happen next, but I did know that we'd be doing it together. Something I've longed for since we reconnected. Something that would likely never happen again....

Thursdays had become my favorite day of the week. I'd leave work around 4pm, walk a few blocks over to the Hyatt Regency, and spend an hour or so at Vitascope Hall. A modern take on a seafood & sushi restaurant, Vitascope offered uppity Negroes a chance to flex their eccentric palets and tastes. For me, it was about half-priced drinks, $2 sushi rolls, and a woman named Kortnei.

Kortnei, a teenage crush of mine, was the Lead Accountant at the hotel, and would sometimes swing by the restaurant, before heading home. During each Happy Hour meet-up, I would comment on how much I enjoyed watching her walk away, and tell her that I'd be willing to leave a key for her at the front desk of my building, in case she didn't want to drive home after work. Kortnei would laugh off my advances, and remind me that any chance of her coming over would start with a respectful and serious invitation. Last Thursday, I finally decided to try it her way.

When Kortnei stopped by for her obligatory Super Crunch Roll (no avocado) and peach Pearl, tonic w/ lime, I already had it waiting for her. Impressed by my initiative, she gave me kudos for paying attention. Our conversation, that day, focused on dreams and aspirations, as opposed to how fine she'd gotten over the years. We conversed and drank for more than 4hrs, the longest time Kortnei had ever sat with me. Chewing on the straw of her 7th drink, she asked for the check, and told me she was ready to call it a night.
"Ko, I've enjoyed spending time with you. While I recognize it is getting late, I would really like the opportunity to extend our evening. Would you like to come to my place and watch a movie? I still know my Ex's Netflix password." She laughed and replied, "You were doing so well, and then you blew it."

"However, I think you should leave a key for me at the desk. 930 Poydras, right?"

45mins later, I got a call from the desk, confirming that I was indeed home, and expecting company. Excitedly, I told the attendant it was okay to send my guest upstairs.

The front door unlocked, and it was Kortnei. She put her purse on the island, looked around a little bit, and then asked if she could take a shower. I obliged, and apologized in advance for not having a shower cap, but did hand her some pajama pants and a t-shirt. Unfazed, she slid the bathroom door closed, and turned the water on. When she came out, I noticed the clothes I gave her were still folded, and that she was wearing my bathrobe, instead. We locked eyes, and she gave me the nod of approval.

I moved her towards the nearest wall, extended her arms above her head, and began kissing her. Passion unparalleled, the intensity of the kisses increased, as she lifted onto her tippy toes to get closer to me. I released her arms, and untied the bathrobe. As it dropped to the floor, she pushed away from the wall, and started walking towards the guest bedroom. Looking back over her shoulder, she asked, "Enjoying the view, huh?"

Kortnei had the body of a Track & Field athlete. 5'6, all legs, slim up-top, but an ass like no other. My eyes followed her tattooed body across the loft, until she entered the dimly-lit bedroom. I quickly undressed, and headed her way. Once inside the room, I laid her down, and with her legs suspended and spread wide, I pulled her to the edge of the bed.

Kortnei hissed, as her love clinched and released; insertion orgasm. As her body bounced to the rhythm of each stroke, she squeezed and rubbed her already hard nipples. As I sped up, she looked down towards the action, watching as each inch of me dug deeply inside of her. Her moans and hmmmms synced with the sound of the headboard hitting the wall. Her ankles shaking within my hands, I released her legs, and flipped her over.

She crawled onto the bed, and buried her face into the throw pillows. With ease, I slid back inside of her, her body jerking from another orgasm. I pressed my hands into the small of her back, and watched her ass jiggle with each pump. A few strokes in, her head emerged from the pillows, and she began to throw her ass back towards me. Sweat rolling down my chest, our bodies crashed against each other, almost violently. Warning her of my nearing climax, Kortnei shared that She. Wan. Ted. To. Ride. It. While. I. Came.

I backed out, and laid on the floor. Kortnei got up, and positioned herself over me. "OooOooO, shit," she exclaimed, carefully accepting me inch by inch. Her love flooded with satisfaction, as another orgasmic wave reached the shore. Kortnei bounced and rocked back and forth, biting her bottom lip with each lift & dip. Her constant moaning brought me closer and closer to the end. With my calves on fire and my toes curled, I looked directly into her eyes, as I let go inside of her.

Both needing to catch our breath, Kortnei dismounted, and I got up to retrieve warm washcloths. After freshening up, our naked bodies entangled on the bed, we let the moment soak in. Kortnei whispered in my ear, "I love it when we role play like this, but you're picking up the check, next week."

The Quickie Chronicles: Devil in a Blue Dress

My phone dinged, and there were a few Lyft pickup requests near Mardi Gras World. I scrolled through the options, selected Ashleigh, and made my way towards the Convention Center.

Ashleigh: "Devin? You're Devin, right? Yeah, this is a white Malibu. Devin!"
Me: "Ashleigh?"
Ashleigh: "Yes, and you're Devin!"

I ignored the fact that it would be a talkative ride to Mid-City, and the fact that Ashleigh was wearing a mask and a ball gown, because she was slim-fine.

Ashleigh: "C'mon, girl. This is our Lyft."

That's when I saw her. Caramel skin. Goldish-brown locs. Thicccc. And that dress. That blue dress....

Me: "So what'd you all get into, tonight?"
Unknown: "Not enough."
Ashleigh: "Girl, don't start. It was like a 'Mom Prom;' a Masquerade Ball. My two are with they Daddy, and her daughter is spending the weekend with Grandma."
Me: "Ahhh that’s what’s up.. Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but you both look really nice in your gowns."
Unknown: "Wait til you see what I'm not wearing."
Ashleigh: "Girl!"

By that point, Ashleigh had taken her mask off, and was speaking inaudibly to her friend. However, I could feel her friend’s eyes echoing the same thing her blue lips were saying.

Unknown: "So, Dev, we’re your last fare of the evening, correct?"
Me: "That wasn’t the plan, but I guess I can go offline a little early."
Ashleigh: "Welp, her she go."
Me: "Wait, I didn't catch your name...."
Unknown: "*Just call me 'Blue'"

As we pulled up to Ashleigh's house, I ended the ride, and subsequently turned my app off.

Blue: "Dev’s coming inside to smoke one."
Me: "Thanks for the invitation, but I'm not much of a smoker, really."
Blue: "I wasn't asking."
Me: “Oh okay.”
Ashleigh: "Bet. I'll go wash my wig, and then I'll meet y'all in the den."

*lighter flicks
Blue: "Dev, unzip this dress. I have to ship it back in the morning."

At this point, Blue was only wearing her mask, lipstick, and an anklet, as she laid sprawled out on the sofa. Smoke rolling out of her nose, she seemed to be plotting on me. I anxiously waited for Ashleigh to re-emerge, but...

Blue: “Dev, I’m going to suck your dick. After you cum in my mouth, you will eat my whole pussy and then fuck me from behind, until the back of my knees sweat. Understood?”

Blue sat up, took another hit and then put her locs into a high-bun. She kissed me passionately, blowing smoke into my mouth, before putting the blunt down. She had me to pull my joggers down, sizing me up. She smirked as if it’d be a challenge, and slowly took all of me into her mouth.
With each bob and gag, I could feel my soul being sucked out. Her blue lipstick, never once smudged, as spit dribbled down her mouth. She slowly grazed the veins with her teeth, towing the line between pain and pleasure.
My calves started to clench, as the heat rose up my thighs, each time Blue swirled her tongue around. I don’t even remember when I came, but I do know that some of the nut got on her mask.

Blue: “Rude. Start drinking more water.”
Me (panting): “Wait, what?”

Blue bent over onto the ottoman, and hit the blunt. Mask and all, her sapphire-studded clit piercings now visible.....

Blue: “You better eat it all, Dev.”

I licked my fingers, spread her lips, and dove into that thing. Top to bottom, left to right. In and out. Hit the clit with my snout! I damn near left eyelashes in that pussy. I was tonsils deep inside of her; slow, smooth circles, as my hands squeezed her ass cheeks for leverage.
With long licks, I drug against her sapphires; moans turned into growls.
Blue began to bounce it back against my face, all the while blowing like a Marley. As I started to suck her, her clinched her ass cheeks led to a squirt, and to a command.....

Blue: “Now put that dick in me.”

I stood up, got a firm grip of her shoulder blades, forcefully pushed deeply inside of her. Each thrust stronger than the one before it, Blue, chanting “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

With her wrists now in my hands, I angled her towards the floor, making sure the sound of her pussy squashing and farting was unmistakable. Over and over, harder and harder, long and slow. Fast and deep....

Blue: “YES, DEV! LIKE THAT! WORK!”

In unison, we yelled in release. I pulled out and slumped onto the floor. Blue slid off the ottoman; her Caramel skin now more like creme brûlée. She ashed the blunt one final time, and quickly regained her composure. Finally unmasked and seemingly unbothered....

Blue: “Keep the mask. The Dev’s in the details.”

The Quickie Chronicles: Home Sweet Home

I've never been one to attend large, predominately African American events, but Bayou Classic is something else. Tradition. Beautiful Brown people from all over the country speed through turkey dinners and rounds of "21 Questions" about why you're not married yet, to escape to New Orleans for a fun-filled weekend. I'd put off attending the Classic for years, but now that I was in-town, sharing a hotel suite with my lil cousin and his best friend, I had to make the best of it.

Originally from the City, I assumed the event planner / tour guide role. I took them on Bourbon (mistake), we ate A LOT and of course, we partook in the Bayou Classic activities. While tailgating before the game, we struck up a conversation with some SU grads, who were out there simply to make bad decisions. Nairobi, freshly divorced and the ringleader of the Bad Decision Makers, invited us to a rooftop party, and promised it would be the best way to end the weekend.


Later that evening, my cousin, his friend and I walked over to the NOPSI Hotel, and rode the elevator to the top floor. Nairobi, a few drinks in, waved us over to the bar, and had the bartender pour-up shots of Casamigos. Shot after shot, we vibed to the DJ, as Nairobi and I sang off-key, and talked about how the City had changed since Katrina. As we inched towards the divide between "drunk" and "wasted," Nairobi kissed me on the cheek, and said she had something to show me. With my hand in hers, we stumbled away from the bar, and headed towards her room.


After entering Room #604, I could only think of two things: (1) There are clothes everywhere. I mean, damn, it's like they got dressed in a tornado. Why did they pack so many outfits? I just....(2) Oh wow!
Nairobi started to [clumsily] peel out of her denim jumpsuit, and as she staggered towards me, I stood in amazement of her figure; my shirt now somewhere on the floor amongst the rest of the clothes. Stepping over the 27 pieces of clothing on the floor, she said to me, "You might've had good pussy before, but this....this is the Motherland."

[Oh, because her name is Nairobi, and it's in Africa. That's pretty clever.]

I lifted Nairobi onto the desk, and slowly began kissing and licking on her neck. She reached back and undid her bra, as I kicked-off my loafers and stepped out of my jeans. With her legs wrapped around me, I picked her up, and laid her on the bed. I licked and bit her breasts, as she sucked her fingers. I kissed down her stomach, and ran my tongue across the tattoo along her waistline; "Curiosity often leads to trouble."


I pulled her panties to the side, and licked her lips, as if they were mine all along. Nairobi squirmed and gripped my hair, as I used my tongue to write out all of the things I wanted to do to her. She moaned for me to "take it," humming as my tongue danced between her thighs.Her humming grew louder as the flicking of my tongue got faster; she nearing her breaking point. With an arch in her back, she lifted her hips, shaking as the essence of the Motherland coated my mustache.


As she lay back, catching her breath, I went into my jeans to grab a condom. I found it, and as I rolled it on, I heard an all-too familiar sound. Nairobi, sideways panties and all, was snoring.....
Standing there, dick in-hand, I just shook my head. Struggling to keep my eyes from rolling around, I put on my clothes, grabbed my shoes and headed towards the door. I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, wearing disappointment and Nairobi all over my face.


Thank You, Bayou Classic. This is why I don't come home.