Desire

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  As soon as the word “bitch” dripped from his mouth she raised herself and came crashing down on his foot. She pulled him from her mouth and sucked the side of his meat. He bent over and massaged her athletic thighs. It was soothing, almost caring. She removed his hands with a flick of her wrist. “No rubbing. Let’s keep this impersonal, no feelings, you know?” The thickness of his piece came down as his ego did. She pumped them both up with strong squats and an aggressive shake of his shaft as her lips found the tip. She made love to his head and fucked the shit out of his toe. He readjusted. “Good, bitch.” She rode him for all she was worth. She closed her eyes and replaced everything. His toe was the larger black man on the ski trip that fucked her until exhaustion. His dick wasn’t as big as the other, but the winding of his hips and the hitting of her spot, and knowing it, did the job. With every ride of his toe, she imagined her black assailant filling her from behind. The dick she sucked remained Pretty’s. It was still the prettiest she had ever seen. So straight. So thick. And it tasted of fudge. Her pussy felt like warm weather. He tried to think the feeling away, but she fucked with precision. She bucked and snapped her pussy on his toe. His friend had told him, “Imagine what your toe would feel like.” They spoke of the sensation your toe has and the feeling a great pussy would have. It was a perfect match. Her face traveled to his balls. She licked underneath. He spread his legs. He held on to what dignity he had left. Gave her permission to do what she was already doing. “Lick my balls, bitch.” She licked underneath them. She felt him jerk. She went back to his head. “Suck my dick, bitch!” he commanded. His commands were off by a second, like a bad Chinese movie. She found the perfect beat. She gave him every bit of soul she didn’t possess. She faked it. He closed his eyes and it felt like he was inside his girl, Tiffany. Her box was tighter than Scrooge’s wallet. She knew how to squeeze before he entered. The bitch in front of him made sharp waves come over him. Her oral was to die for. She must’ve taught a class. He felt like her student. “Bitch!” He arched his toe. He wanted to fuck her but didn’t want to take anything out. She slurped. And rode. He called her high horse. She deserved it. “Bitch!” She never answered. She figured it was rhetorical. He grabbed her head. He wasn’t concerned about her comfort. She tightened her mouth and sucked him like a vacuum. The black man in back picked up the pace. Pretty grabbed her hair and brought her closer. She felt the strength in his stroke.

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  Mikala squealed out loud. He was a good eight inches of prime certified beef. The tip was a perfect mushroom shape and his skin was nice and smooth. “I want you to grab my dick on both sides at the base with your hands and gently run them up and down my shaft, nice and slow. Aaah, yeah just like that,” Kareem sighed in approval. She continued to stimulate his penis with her hands until he told her to stop. “Open ya mouth wide and take me into it slowly. Make sure that your mouth is nice and wet. Don’t swallow the whole thing at once. I want you to gradually put it in and go up and down as it hits up against your jaws. Put your tongue into it while you’re sucking it. Ooooh, baby. Mikala, that’s it right there. Keep doing that shit! I want you to go faster!” he yelled. She did as instructed and increased the pace of her sucking motion. Kareem’s sighs of approval increased her arousal. “Now take your hand and rub it up and down my shaft while you suck on the head. I wanna feel ya lips on me, baby! Swirl your tongue around on the head real fast. Yeah, yeah, that’s it. Now go down further and lick my balls!” he instructed her. She did as she was told. Mikala put her thing down like she was a wily veteran at the trade. After she teased his balls with her tongue for a spell, she worked her mouth back up to his dick and took the whole thing in her mouth at once, without gagging on it. Her head game was on point. Pleasing Kareem made her hornier and hornier. “Don’t stop, baby! I’m about to cum! Let me shoot this shit in ya mouth! Don’t pull away! Take it like a soldier!” Kareem yelled as he released all of his little soldiers into Mikala’s mouth. She swallowed every drop of his semen and loved the taste. It tastes just as good as it did in my dreams, she thought. The night wasn’t over yet. Mikala allowed Kareem to recuperate for a while, then sucked his penis gently until it was hard again. Kareem got on top of her and proceeded to take a voyage into her precious garden with his love tool. Her pussy felt like an ocean as he did a freaky slip ’n slide in and out of her without losing a beat in his stroke. They went at it so hard that the top mattress slid off of the box spring and hung halfway onto the floor. Mikala held on to the headboard with both hands to maintain her balance.

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  “Sure you can’t stay?” she whispered in my ear, then licked the lobe. I bit my bottom lip. I was curious as hell, but I refused to go there. She’d made my pussy wet, and I wanted to show her how moist she had me, but I didn’t. I just got the hell out of there, hopped into my car and sat for a minute, wondering what had happened. Finally, I cranked my engine, deciding to forget about what had occurred behind Brooklyn’s front door. I’d slipped, not fallen. But I wanted to jump in bed. • • • Horniness rode me all the way home, and I hoped like hell that Telly was there to help me release my heat. But all there was was an empty space where his whip had been. Damn. “What up?” he answered when I hit him on his celly. “Where you at, baby? I need you,” I said, entering my place, tossing my purse on the couch, and hightailing it to my bedroom. “I’ll be there in a few. How was your drinking date?” “It was cool. I’ll fill you in when you get here. But you gotta hurry, baby. I’m horny!” I rushed, searching my DVD collection for a temporary fix. “All right, get it ready for daddy,” he said, then hung up. I got it ready for him, all right. I took off my clothes and got into bed, turned on my Phatty GirlDVD, starring sexy ass Justin Slayer who fucked in Timbos and sunglasses. As Justin slurped on some chick’s pussy, I played with mine. I was so hot it was stupid. I got dicked down all the time, but right then it felt like I didn’t get fucked at all. What the fuck did Brooklyn do to me? I knew one thing, I wasn’t talking to her anymore. I was so wrapped up watching Justin slay fat-assed bitches that I didn’t hear Telly slide into my bedroom. “Hey, ma,” he said, stripping out of his clothes. “I was right about your friend, wasn’t I?” I didn’t say shit. I just opened my legs for him as he climbed on top of me, and began fucking me hard. He knew what I needed, and I loved that rough shit. “She tried to take my waterfalls, didn’t she?” “Yeah,” I moaned. “Did you let her?” “No!” “Why?” “’Cause I want dick!” “You want this dick?” “Yeah. Yo dick, daddy!” “How you want it?” He stroked me slow and hard. “Just like that,” I said as I moved my hips up under him. “Shit, get that dick, ma. Work that pussy!” Telly and me fucked ’til the birds started chirping outside. The next day Telly and I lay around tired from all the fucking we’d done. I told him what went on at Brooklyn’s. He didn’t understand why I didn’t let her suck my pussy. “Why don’t you call her up, and we can have a threesome,” he said, dead-ass serious.

• From Laura Middleton; Her Brother and Her Lover (1890)

  But the slight view of her splendid charms I had already enjoyed had only heightened my desire for a more minute inspection of them, and I could not afford to lose the opportunity thus fortunately presented to me. Getting up, therefore, and lighting some additional candles I had prepared for the purpose, I stretched her out all naked as she was on the bed and commenced a thorough examination of all those beauties which I had so eagerly longed to inspect, and which as yet I had only been able partially and cursorily to investigate. No part of her escaped my ardent gaze and eager touch. She willingly yielded to my wishes, nay, she even seemed gratified by my eagerness, and placed herself in every position in which she fancied I should be able to detect a new beauty. Every portion of her body, both before and behind, was in succession the object of my adoration and was covered with the most passionate and thrilling kisses and caresses. The effect of this may easily be imagined, and it was not long before the imposing majesty of my overjoyed pleasure-giver showed to her, and equally convinced me, of the necessity we were under of cooling our ardour by a repetition of the same delightful process which we had already undergone. After this was happily concluded, she insisted on having in her turn the same privilege I had enjoyed, and she made me undergo the same minute investigation to which she had been subjected. Her curiosity was excessive; every object underwent the most searching examination and of course all those parts in which there was a difference between us were more particularly and vigorously explored and discussed. It was impossible for me to remain insensible to her lascivious caresses which again roused the fire within me. My staff of love started up proud and erect as if eager to exhibit its full proportions to her ardent gaze.

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  Rasheeda had been promoted to the top of the alternate list, but hadn’t graduated yet because she’d gotten on my last fuckin’ nerve. Her ghetto ass had gotten a PR job, and she’d tried to put the B in bourgeoisie because her paycheck was legit and mine was legitimately counterfeit, until I’d flipped that ass over and leveled the field and made her take every inch of my swerve. But the real reason I kept her around was because she gave good head. Hitting her up on the home number, I hung up after three rings. She’ll see my name on her caller ID and get back to me later, I thought, powering up my computer and logging onto www.aroundthenati.com. There had to be something going on in the city. If I couldn’t get some ass from one of my girls, I had to find something to distract my mind from sex. Before I ran up on something, my cell rang. Rasheeda’s name flashed on the screen and her phat ass flickered in my mind. “What up?” I answered. “You! I just got in from work and saw that you called. What’s goin’ on wit you?” “Nothing much. Just wondering if you were interested in a brotha this evening.” “You know I am!” she replied, excited. “I would love to tickle you again!” I frowned. That was another reason I hadn’t moved her ass into rotation. She played too damn much. Instead of just giving me the pussy, she was always trying to tickle me. Acted like that shit was foreplay. Don’t get me wrong, a little sex play here and there is nice. But tickling me off and on until I rolled around on the floor screaming like a bitch was downright irritating. “I got something you can tickle . . . with your tongue.” “But you’re so cute! I love to see you laugh,” she said as I sighed heavily. “I know another way you can make me smile . . .” She giggled softly. “I bet you do. Tell me what you have in mind.” “I was thinking . . . you . . . in something form-fitting. A couple of drinks and your fireplace.” “Ummmmm, I can do that,” she purred. “And no tickling! Just you and me, one-on-one, rolling around on the floor.” “I can’t promise that. But you’re going to get the pussy, baby. Don’t worry.” I was in my ride in an instant. Turning onto Gilbert Avenue, I skirted scenic Eden Park as I headed toward Hyatt Park, where Rasheeda lived. I clicked on my CD player and jumping to track four I grooved to Reem Raw’s cut “A Day in the Life.” Not only was it a gully driving song, the lyrics were appropriate for me.

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  He slowly spread my thick outer lips apart, and exposed my stiff clit from all shelter. At first he barely brushed it with the moist insides of his lips. When it was slick with his moisture and my own, he started tenderly sucking my whole clit, pushing back the hood with his skillful kisses and plunging it into ecstasy with his powerful tongue. When Dushawn started circling the hot mouth of my cunt with the tips of two thick fingers, my legs started to rattle violently in the extreme pleasure of my pre-cum climb. I held his strong neck to steady myself. The rapid rippling of his jaws sent chills through me. He stopped for a few seconds, to unleash his big hard dick from his pants. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was thicker and longer than I imagined. While he devoured my clit, I ran my fingers all over his well-shaped head and muscular neck. His freshly cut hair pricked the tender skin of my palms. Finally, I came. I came longer and harder than I had ever come in my life. Yes-s-s-s-s!! Dushawn lightened and slowed his sucks and kisses from a storm to a gentle breeze. He didn’t stop until I completely stopped shuddering. I begged him to fuck me. If his dick had gotten any harder it would have shattered. It looked like a big black satin pole. His eyes were crazy but he igged my pleas. He pulled me down into his lap, sidesaddle, on top of his bulging thigh. “Don’t turn down my gift, Dushawn,” I whispered into his thick sexy lips. “Z’hat whatchu really want, Nailah?” he whispered. I looked him dead in the face. He was still smiling but he looked kinda worried. “What’s wrong?” He said, “We fixin’ to cross the line. You know that, right?” “Yeah, I know that.” “I like you way more than you think I do, La La. I been checkin’ you just like you been checkin’ me but . . .” He paused. “But what?” I snapped. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” “Hurt me how?” “You know this can’t really go nowhere right now. I mean . . . my mom and your mom had serious beef.” His words cut me to the bone but I shook it off with a quickness. I wasn’t gon’ let him fuck up the mood with other people’s bullshit . . . especially some old bullshit drama. “My mom been dead for two years, Dushawn. Your mom need to let it go. That mess was between them and we both know it was over some shit that never even happened.”

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  I just laughed a little and let his comment leave when he did. As soon as he walked away I squeezed my twenty-six-year-old thighs together again and grinned. The next time his fine ass flirted with me I planned to let my boss know that I’d file a reverse sexual harassment suit on him if he didn’t stop letting me overhear him getting down. If tongue, lips, and swaying hips was what he needed, he just shoulda asked me! I am still the baddest bitch on this block and I could’ve fucked and sucked his horny ass to complete satisfaction! I don’t mind getting on my knees to suck a dick, and getting a nice raise for it would be even better! I took typing in high school, and it paid off rather lovely. But if the truth be known, the reason I beat out a long list of college graduates to get my job was because some wrinkled-up white man in Human Resources liked looking at me during the interview. When I realized he was getting off on my chocolate treats, I batted my eyelashes a lot and used my sex appeal to my advantage, until he offered me the job—on the spot. Since I was all hot and bothered now, I was going to have to fight to concentrate on my work the remainder of the day. After my boss left for his meeting, I called my man, Smooth Willie, and tried to get something popping with him. “Smooth, it’s me. I was thinking that maybe we could hook up tonight and have some fun between the sheets. It’s been a while, you know.” “I hear you, Ma. The thing is, I can’t make it tonight.” I sucked my teeth and sighed. “And why would that be?” I snapped. “I got some critical shit to take care of.” “Again? You sure you can’t reconsider? The streets ain’t going nowhere. What I’m trying to tell you is I really need to see you. I got needs, ya know.” “I got peeps in town on business. What’chu want me to do? I gotta make that bread.” “Why I gotta make an appointment and get penciled in to get some dick these days? You just aren’t freaky like you used to be. I don’t turn you on no more or sumthin’, huh, Smooth? You always used to make time to break off your girl, no matter what.” “Since you asked . . . you done picked up about ten pounds. I guess I been feeding you too good ’cause you ain’t model thin like you used to be. I luh you and all, but you just don’t hold my attention as much. But that don’t mean Smooth don’t still want you, Yani. I still got luh for you. You know you my girl.”

• From The History of Christianity: From the Disciples to the Dawn of the Reformation (2012)

  189 quite possibly simply the desire for holiness—he left secular life to live as a hermit in Subiaco (about 40 miles east of Rome). He was there joined by followers and founded a community, possibly even a group of monasteries. o He moved with a small group of disciples to Monte Cassino (midway between Rome and Naples) and founded the monastery that became the mother house for all Benedictines, surviving repeated destructions and rebuildings. The most recent reconstruction followed the Allied bombing in World War II to dislodge Nazi soldiers, who used the monastery as a mountain fortress. • Benedict’s great achievement was his Rule for monks, composed circa 540 in lapidary Latin. It is widely and properly regarded as one of the most impressive constitutions ever composed, providing a version of the monastic life possible to very ordinary people. Earlier founders seemed to envisage monks seeking a harsh and demanding regimen. Benedict sought to construct a life that anyone with good will could live. o Benedict did not make any claim to originality: His rule freely acknowledges his debt to such earlier monastic teachers as Basil, Augustine, and above all, John Cassian. In his epilogue, he recommends these authors as spiritual reading. o Benedict’s modesty makes more puzzling the lack of reference to a monastic rule on which he clearly relied, the anonymous Rule of the Master. We know nothing about the origin of this longer rule: Was it a draft for Benedict’s Rule, or was his Rule an epitome? Whatever the literary relationship between the two, Benedict’s genius is shown in the brevity and clarity of his version. The Benedictine Rule • The prologue sets the framework of the Rule, summoning the disciple to “hearken to the words of the master” and return to God by way of obedience after having turned away from God by disobedience.

• From Laura Middleton; Her Brother and Her Lover (1890)

  When he came to the bedside I at once threw down the bedclothes and made room for him beside me. He jumped in instantly, and clasping him in my arms I pressed him to my bosom. He warmly returned my embrace, and the idea I had formed as to his appreciating my intentions was immediately confirmed by my finding something hard and stiff pressing against my belly, and I soon managed to ascertain that his instrument was in a state of fierce erection. After a few kisses and caresses, I led to the subject of his young friend and the lady, asking how old he was, and then laying my hand upon his organ of pleasure, asked him whether his friend's plaything was bigger than this. He said at once it was, and then taking hold of mine, which as may be supposed was standing stiff enough, he added that it was not so big as mine. Continuing to caress his little charmer, I said I was afraid it was a very naughty little gentleman, and asked whether he had ever had a lady to teach him how to behave himself properly. He said, "Oh! no! I have not been so fortunate, but I do wish I could get someone to do it with me. I can think of nothing else night or day, and I shall go wild unless I can manage it before long." The manner in which my caresses affected him showed plainly how excitable he was. He pressed me to him, and as I grasped his instrument he twisted himself backwards and forwards endeavouring to make my hand serve as a substitute for what he so eagerly desired, while he begged of me to tell him whether I could not put him in the way of obtaining the fulfilment of his wishes. I at once promised that if he would get permission to pay me a visit at the Hall, I would arrange that he should have as much of it as he liked, if he would only allow me to witness and participate with him in his pleasures. In his delight and gratitude he at once said that he would do anything I liked, that I had only to tell what I wanted and he would be as eager as I could be to do whatever was in his power that would contribute to my enjoyment. During this conversation I had been playing with his pretty little instrument as he had been with mine, and I had occasionally introduced it between my thighs squeezing them together so as to compress it between them and meeting and returning the thrusts which he could not help giving on finding his little charmer so agreeably tickled by my soft flesh. This drew from him exclamations of delight.

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  That spot between my thighs was tingling in my sleep. I wanted to be touched. I was wet with excitement, so I rested my head against the spongy hay, then parted my legs and was just about to get it on with myself when something made me look up. Walking out of the circle of stallions came this tall, dark, and gorgeous guy. He had the physique of a well-sculpted ironman with a six-pack, buff arms, and firm thighs. He was naked, and his dick hung down on him like an anaconda. Shit, he was packing just as much as those horses were. He didn’t say a word, and I couldn’t talk either. He walked up to me, then got down on his knees and parted my thighs, eating me deliciously while the horses watched. His tongue swam around in me like he was trying to dig for something. I panted loudly as I fondled my breast with one hand and gripped his gleaming bald head with the other. I was loud, so loud that I began stirring up the horses as they watched this fine man eat me out on a pile of hay. The horses started leaping up in the air on their hind legs, but we kept going and paid them no mind. The guy ate me to death as he gripped my right leg strongly. He spread my legs wider as his head swirled between my thighs. “Aaaaaahhh . . . aaaaaahhh . . . aaaaaahhh,” I panted, feeling myself sinking deeper into the hay. He lifted his head up and stared at me with this strange dim gaze. He climbed on top of me and positioned himself between my wet thighs. We sank deeper into the hay as he pressed against me; I felt the tip of his big dick touching against my warm and inviting lips. His huge erection opening me up wide, and he pushed inch by inch of his vast size up inside me. I cried out. “Ahhh . . . Oh, God!” My nameless dream-man thrust and thrust into me as I straddled him and dug my manicured nails into his bare skin. I felt myself sinking lower and lower into the hay as he fucked me and fucked me. Then suddenly I heard a voice call out . . . Ayeesha! I opened my eyes, surprised that my dream had seemed so real. The sheet between my legs was damp, and I was horny as hell. I heard my husband in the shower and wished he was next to me, ready to fuck, just like I was right now. I lay my head back against the pillow, and slowly moved my hand between my thighs, pulling up my silk-and-lace pink slip as I touched myself lightly. My husband had come to bed last night without even noticing what I had on.

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  He saw me looking at it. “Yea. This brotha got dick control. You betta believe it!” he told me as I put my clothes back on quickly. As Life opened my boss’s office door to leave, I still couldn’t speak. I wanted to ask him if he wanted a paper towel to clean his face, but he didn’t seem to care that my juices were still wet on his skin. I was so turned on by Life’s rugged sex appeal that I’d forgotten all about betraying crazy Smooth. “You real sweet, boo,” Life told me before going out the door. “But there are two kinds of thugs on these streets. Thugs like Smooth who are selfish and grimy, and thugs like me who are just rough around the edges. If you get tired of Smooth controlling your every move, you know how to get at me. I would never hurt you. I only want to make you feel good,” Life wiped his face with his hands. As he stood holding the door open I caught a peek of my boss walking into the main foyer. I ran over and shoved an empty FedEx box in Life’s hands and tried to pass him off as someone I’d called to pick up a package. I watched Life walk past my boss, wishing he’d move a helluva lot faster, but being the man he was, he maintained his normal swagger. “Good morning,” I said when my boss walked into his office. “I was just getting a few things organized in your office—I hope you don’t mind. You told me to give you a reason to consider giving me that raise,” I teased. “I’d say you just earned it for giving me that award-winning performance,” he laughed, then cleared his throat. “I came in early today. I was in the restroom when you and your thug friend arrived. You closed the door but you didn’t lock it, Yani. The only thing I was missing was a jar of Vaseline and a bag of popcorn.” I looked down at the bulge in his pants and said, “Well, Daddy, I guess today it was my turn to put on a show for once, not yours. And since you peeped all my action, I’m sure you could tell that my thug baby was giving me the time of my life.” PRETTY MF Gerald K. Malcom He dug her out. She screamed like someone was committing a murder. His back, full of sweat, housed her hands. Then her fingers. Then her nails. Then her pleasure. He dug her out. It was that grimy dick he gave her that impressed. It was the way he reached for the sky and came slamming down into her. It was that R&B dick that dug and swirled and stopped and posed and dug again, pressing against her clit. He eased out with a slick grin. She screamed pieces of his name in between obscenities.

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  “Here you go,” Mikala said when she returned. “I hope you can handle ya liquor because it’s kinda strong. My girl tells me you were locked up for a few years. So are you still a thug, or have you left that part of your life behind you?” “Yeah, they locked a brother down for a minute. It’s true that I sold drugs. I’m not ashamed of what I did. However, I’ve grown and moved on to better things in my life now. So do you think that a good girl like ya’self can handle a nigga from the streets like me?” he asked. “We’ll just have to wait and see. All good girls have a bad side to them. You just remember that,” Mikala responded. They talked shit back and forth to each other for a few minutes. Mikala became more and more attracted to Kareem as the alcohol started to filter through her system. She told him about her relationship with Jamel, and he shared a few details about his personal life too. The conversation was getting even more heated when they were interrupted. Pierre and Chastity had returned from the bedroom and both of them had silly grins on their faces as they tried to fix their disheveled clothes. “So are we gonna get this card game started or what? I’m tryin’ to whip y’all butts in some spades tonight,” Pierre said. “Don’t talk shit, nigga. Me and my girl are ready to do our thing. But let’s eat first. We wouldn’t want y’all to get this ass whoopin’ on an empty stomach,” Chastity said. They devoured pizza and buffalo wings while talking trash for the next hour. The first two pitchers of mixed drinks were already history and they were on the second round. Everybody felt loose and you could see the chemistry developing between Mikala and Kareem throughout the night. They couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other. He fondled her thighs under the table and she didn’t resist. In fact, she returned the favor by grabbing hold of his dick and squeezing his thick erection. Chastity and Pierre were feeling the heat too. She leaned over and nibbled his ears while he massaged her full breasts. Chastity and Mikala won the first two games of spades, but lost the next two. Pierre was determined to take this night to another level. He pulled out a sandwich bag full of some of the finest herb that B-More City had to offer. “Y’all trying to smoke?” he asked. “I am, but my girl here doesn’t indulge,” Chastity said. “I don’t need you to speak for me. Yeah, let me hit that shit,” Mikala said.

• From The History of Christianity: From the Disciples to the Dawn of the Reformation (2012)

  • Already in this account, we glimpse some of the elements of the early monastic life. The world is perceived as corrupting; the desire to be alone and o apart is the desire to achieve true discipleship through struggle. Just as martyrdom was earlier associated with “fighting o demons,” that is, the heathen gods and the state that sponsored them, so now the monk “fights the wild beasts,” who are inner demons in the fight for authentic faith. Thus, monasticism is a form of “white martyrdom.” The arena for battle is the human mind and body. The control o of the body through mental dedication (asceticism) is a key dimension of early monasticism, sometimes taking extreme forms, such as severe fasting and lack of sleep. In contrast to the Gnostics, these early monks were deeply o dedicated to ecclesiastical authority and orthodoxy—at least, this is the portrayal given by Athanasius, the bishop of Alexandria. The “sages of the desert” were charismatic in the sociological o sense of the term: They drew followers who sought the wisdom they personified. Cenobites • Another form of the monastic life was that of “life together” in the wilderness. The term “cenobite” for such monks comes from the Greek koinos bios (“life together”). • The founder of this form of monasticism in Egypt was Pachomius (290–346). Born a pagan, he served as a Roman soldier and was converted o in 313. He founded a monastery (c. 320) at Tabennisi in the Thebaid o near the Nile. 115

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  Mikala’s favorite sex toy was the Bullet. It was a small silver vibrator that had a cord attached to it with a control switch that allowed you to adjust the intensity of the vibration. It could go hard and fast, if you wanted to feel a throbbing motion like a man was pounding on your pussy nonstop, or it could go slow if you wanted to take your time to savor your orgasm. That lil’ gadget was the truth! If the Bullet couldn’t make a woman cum, then a bitch had something wrong with the nerves in her coochie! Mikala held the Bullet in her hand and took a bottle of Pure Satisfaction oil outta her shoe box and then placed the box back under the bed. She slid off her thong and unhooked her bra to get a little bit more comfortable as she reclined on the silk sheets with her head resting on the fluffy pillows. She took a few drops of the oil and placed it on the tips of her fingers. She gently rubbed it on her clit and slowly the oil began to heat up. Goose bumps rose on her arms. She adjusted the level of the Bullet until it was just right and placed it up against her clit as her mind slid off into a world of ecstasy. Within a few minutes, she could feel the juices begin to run from her warm vagina. She caressed her nipples one at a time. She lifted them toward her, then used her tongue to bring them to full attention as she licked and sucked with delight. Her ass cheeks clenched tighter as the Bullet vibrated. The sensual sounds coming from the stereo made the episode that much more erotic. In her mind, Mikala was getting down with a masked stranger who packed a big dick. She’d had this fantasy many times before, and it got better each time she relived it. Since her man refused to address her needs, she used her imagination to create the ideal man that could do the job. At first, she felt like she was cheating on Jamel to have thoughts of sleeping with another man, but, over time, that feeling faded. She called the brothah in her fantasy Borne. He was baldheaded and had dark brown, island-tanned skin. Jail-house tattoos were all over his chest and back. His hands were rough, like he worked construction or something, and they sent chills up and down her spine when he touched her flesh. He was muscular from head to toe and had an ass that she loved to dig her nails into. She didn’t give a damn what Borne’s face looked like because it was about the way he made her body feel and riding his big dick until she got hers.

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  She gagged. Rode his toe for all it was worth. She reached another high. Beautiful Tiffany clenched her pussy and the white bitch gagged. He lost sight. Everything was black. Her mouth professed her love for his meat with moans. His dick tightened in its skin. It expanded and he could feel the pressure. He grabbed her ears and brought himself closer. He invaded her throat. She allowed him. “Fucking dumb bitch,” he yelled. She was a good bitch, the way she joined him. They both had threesomes. She forgot about the pain in her back, the pulling of her hair, the stubby stabbing of her pussy, and the vile names he called her. It all meshed. His grip reached her throat and went to her shoulders. She allowed this. “Shit!” was screamed by both. He pumped and released. He held her head still. She quit stroking his digit and allowed him to coat her mouth. He tasted sweet. Almost beautiful. When he was done, so was she. She had mastered the art of the quiet come. She lifted herself and cleaned his toe with her panties. She never looked his way. Servants weren’t supposed to give eye contact. The movie wasn’t over. She would get her supporting actress role later. She stuffed her panties in her bag and walked to the door. He sat in the middle of the blue hue like a weathered saxophone player after a long set. He never looked her way. She opened the door. Her smile was absent. “I’ll be waiting by the bodega on the corner whenever you’re ready, sir.” He looked up and smiled. “Watch the Rodriguezes’ dog.” He paused. “Bitch.” HOMEY, LOVER, FRIEND Thomas Long “Wake ya tired ass up, girl,” Chastity yelled into the phone. “I ain’t sleep, fool. I’m just sitting up in here chillin’. Waiting on nothing. What’s up with you?” her friend Mikala asked. “I’m ain’t doing nothing special. What you getting into tomorrow?” “I’m probably going out to Arundel Mills Mall to do some shopping. Why? Are you tryin’ to tag along?” “Hell, yeah! The one thing I like best—next to gettin’ some dick—is spending money on new clothes!” “Girl, you crazy like a fox. Let’s hook up around one o’clock. I need to get outta this house just to clear my head, ya know what I’m sayin’?” “Is that nigga still trippin’? You need to get rid of his ass before it’s too late. Jamel ain’t the only fish in the sea. You can find you another man who knows how to twirk that thing,” Chastity said, putting her nose into Mikala’s personal business.

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  She nodded. He reached over and opened her door. She got out with hesitancy. He watched her look around before pulling her coat shut. She hurried past the old men and began her journey down the darkest street in the neighborhood. He spun his car around and drove to his house, never once checking on her. He jogged up the few flights of stairs and rushed inside. He put a few things away before settling in his favorite chair. He lit his smoke again, and waited. He listened to the hustle and bustle of the street and wondered where she was. She would probably jump out of her skin when she passed the Rodriguezes’. They kept their vicious pit bulls outside on a leash that was long enough for them to munch on those who were too scared to walk near the street. Dallas and his boys would definitely harass that fresh white meat when she strolled by. No telling who would jump out of the alley a few houses up and ask to shine her shoes for a buck. He knew she needed the whole experience of the hood, not just the dick. Years ago Pretty would have done her right in the office and took her money right then and there. Now she would get it where and when he wanted to give it. He would show her what separated him from the rest of the pigeons she was used to dealing with. He turned off all of the lights and left a blue track light on. He positioned it in the middle of the floor. He impressed himself with his ability to make women perform at a higher level. He lit his cigar again and blew smoke up his own ass. He heard noises, and then the steady patter of feet approaching. He pulled his chair behind the light. He watched the door swing open slowly. Her movements showed hesitancy, perhaps unsure that she was in the right spot. He gave assurance with a “Hello.” She heard his voice, relaxed, but still stood motionless by the door. She looked out of place with her expensive clothes, her timid smile, and her unsteady stance. She wobbled. He barked out orders. She followed his directions and walked toward the spotlight. She looked better under the blue light. It gave her color and presence. It made her shape glisten. Made her feel like she was onstage. She would transform into his bitch on command. She wished her husband made her do what he wanted to do. He always asked. She heard shuffling and then soft music played. “Strip!”

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  I rode up to the eighth floor in silence. That threat Tears liked to make about me cheating on him came to mind. Fuck him! I said to myself. He should’ve taken the pussy this morning. I got off the elevator and continued down the posh, carpeted hallway. I looked for room 825 and my heart beating like crazy the closer I came to the room. “825, it’s a suite,” I said to myself in a whisper. The door was slightly open and I took a deep breath and slowly made my way inside. The room was dim with the shades pulled down and it was quiet. I glanced around the suite and didn’t see Raheem. I stayed my ass near the door, and moved no further into the room. Behind me, the door slammed suddenly, and out of the blue I felt a pair of masculine arms reach around my waist and pull me closer into his embrace. “I’m glad you came,” I heard Raheem say behind me. “You nervous?” “Yeah. A little bit,” I admitted, but pressed my ass against him anyway. “I gotta be back at work at two.” “Don’t worry, we have enough time.” He slowly began undoing my blouse, and then I felt his hand reach inside my bra and cup my breast. I moaned with pleasure as he pulled up my skirt. His hand moved between my moist thighs and rested against my throbbing pussy. I shivered as he pushed my panties to the side and slid two fingers into my wet pussy. “Oooh, ooh,” I moaned, feeling him dig into me. I clamped my love muscles around his fingers and continued to squeeze. “Um, your shit feels so tight, Ayeesha,” he whispered in my ear. His breath was warm and smelled like Winter Fresh gum. I turned my head, facing him slightly, and he turned too, and we tongued each other down as he continued to finger my pussy tenderly. His tongue was long and hot and he tried to push it down my throat. He kissed me like he loved my ass. His strong hands fondled my breasts, then continued to molest that part of me down low. I finally turned all the way around and saw that he was in a thick white terry-cloth bathrobe. I wrapped my arms around him and continued to kiss him hotly, just like I used to kiss my boo. It was already 1:25 P.M. and I didn’t have much more time for my lunch break. I took off my boots, and began unfastening my skirt, giving Raheem a little show. I dropped my skirt to the floor and stood in front of him in my white blouse, bra, and some lacy pink panties. “Damn! You are the bomb, Ayeesha,” he stated. I continued to strip, shedding my clothing gradually until I stood stark naked in front of him. I smiled, moving my hands across my flawless brown skin. “Your turn,” I said.

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  “Do something for me, baby,” Life asked. “Reach down, stick two fingers inside of that pussy, and suck them juices from your pretty fingertips. Lemme see you do that.” I did what Life asked of me. I felt like a movie star. Before I knew it he pulled his tool out and began stroking it openly. “Look at what I got for you,” he said, working his dick up into a nice thick, long pole. “Put that thing ’way. That’s not a good idea,” I told him. The sight of Life’s sexy dick made me feel like Jell-O inside. “You can’t even look at my dick. You’re nervous as hell. You think there’s something wrong with a man stroking his shit?” “No—I never said that. There’s nothing wrong with . . . well. Never mind, Life.” “Before you say no to something, you should at least see what you’re turning down,” he said, stroking it gently. I finally took a really good look at Life’s dick and my mouth began to water like I smelled good food burnin’ at a soul-food spot! “I’m in a committed relationship. I told you that from day one,” I said weakly. “Yani, the man you got ain’t living up to the meaning of a man. He has you hanging your head down and holding back on what you wanna do. If you were satisfied in every way, you wouldn’t be writing poetry about me, wondering how I work my dick, or shaking yo ass in my face. So you tryna tell me you half-naked but I’m feeling sparks up in this motherfucker alone?” I didn’t answer. “Girl, what you really want right now is a thug nigga like me to hit it like I’m gonna break you in half! From the way you’ve explained things here and there, the situation you’re in is fucked up. I know you need to get fucked, licked, and sucked right—it’s been written all over your face since the night I saw you in the club. If you need time, I got time. But don’t you think it’s about time you just let go, for you? I ain’t that nigga that’s got you stressin’. If you want this dick, get ready to sit down on it and enjoy it,” Life said, tearing open a condom. I was nearly salivating at the thought of sitting down on his massive dick. But just when I was about to take him up on his offer, something snapped me out of the fuckin’ mood. The phone rang. “Yo, Yani! I’m on my way over. I just wrapped up some business and I’ma come through and holla atchu. Put on some heels and some sexy shit. I wanna see you looking good when I come through the spot for that wet wet,” Smooth Willie said. “Oh shit!” I told Life when I hung up. “That was Smooth!”

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  His voice was mellow. “Do you like it or love it?” He dug after he questioned. His dick scraped the bottom. He pushed deep and lifted her with his stroke. She touched the air. He asked her to squeeze. She closed her eyes tight as if that made her squeeze harder. Those muscles had nothing to do with those muscles. She hugged tight. Didn’t want to lose the feeling. She closed her eyes even tighter to take the picture. Dark muscular back. Felt like something good to hold on while being pleased. She knew what he liked. She eased him out by sitting up. She ate her mess. After she cleaned him her spin was slow. She went to her knees and spread her arms across the bed. Her back had arch, two dimples and shape. The color was premium; like she bought the deepest brown they had to offer. He grabbed each cheek and kneaded them. She needed this. His right hand pressed hard and rode its way up to her neck. He left it there and gripped the back of her neck. He pushed her head to the bed. She couldn’t breathe. She would worry about breath later. His hands hurt her neck, but she wouldn’t dare move. She would feel any residual pain later, after her body bucked ferociously, her senses emptied, and her world collapsed. He filled her with one stroke. She jumped. Almost lost her breath. Her body shook violently. It was brutal, almost savage the way he filled her cavity. She wouldn’t have it any other way. He stayed still. Didn’t move an inch. She felt every one. She opened her eyes and watched his shadow against the wall. The shadow was bigger, but wasn’t as defined. His pumps were smooth against the lightly flickering wall. Her ass looked even bigger. Not better. He began a slow thrust that popped when he reached her capacity. On her neck, she felt the power in his hand. She wanted to be held down. She wanted to be forced to take everything he knew. He spoke confidently, “You can keep your money if you don’t come when I say.” He knew she loved what she couldn’t have. She loved the battle, and didn’t care who won the war. She didn’t care if he knew her body; she was a winner either way. “You got sixty seconds.” His voice was buttery, like he was singing instructions. The bass in it hit her spine. The confidence hit her sex. She wanted it raw, no chaser.

• From From the Streets to the Sheets: Noire's Urban Erotic Quickies (2007)

  That spot between my thighs was tingling in my sleep. I wanted to be touched. I was wet with excitement, so I rested my head against the spongy hay, then parted my legs and was just about to get it on with myself when something made me look up. Walking out of the circle of stallions came this tall, dark, and gorgeous guy. He had the physique of a well-sculpted ironman with a six-pack, buff arms, and firm thighs. He was naked, and his dick hung down on him like an anaconda. Shit, he was packing just as much as those horses were. He didn’t say a word, and I couldn’t talk either. He walked up to me, then got down on his knees and parted my thighs, eating me deliciously while the horses watched. His tongue swam around in me like he was trying to dig for something. I panted loudly as I fondled my breast with one hand and gripped his gleaming bald head with the other. I was loud, so loud that I began stirring up the horses as they watched this fine man eat me out on a pile of hay. The horses started leaping up in the air on their hind legs, but we kept going and paid them no mind. The guy ate me to death as he gripped my right leg strongly. He spread my legs wider as his head swirled between my thighs. “Aaaaaahhh . . . aaaaaahhh . . . aaaaaahhh,” I panted, feeling myself sinking deeper into the hay. He lifted his head up and stared at me with this strange dim gaze. He climbed on top of me and positioned himself between my wet thighs. We sank deeper into the hay as he pressed against me; I felt the tip of his big dick touching against my warm and inviting lips. His huge erection opening me up wide, and he pushed inch by inch of his vast size up inside me. I cried out. “Ahhh . . . Oh, God!” My nameless dream-man thrust and thrust into me as I straddled him and dug my manicured nails into his bare skin. I felt myself sinking lower and lower into the hay as he fucked me and fucked me. Then suddenly I heard a voice call out . . . Ayeesha! I opened my eyes, surprised that my dream had seemed so real. The sheet between my legs was damp, and I was horny as hell. I heard my husband in the shower and wished he was next to me, ready to fuck, just like I was right now. I lay my head back against the pillow, and slowly moved my hand between my thighs, pulling up my silk-and-lace pink slip as I touched myself lightly. My husband had come to bed last night without even noticing what I had on.