Wifenapped

"Shell, tell me you know where I am?" Kendra hollered at her publicist in a hushed whisper.

"Girl, I have no idea," Shell Augustine hollered back through the cellphone. "I mean how did he get you by airport security!"

"Fuck, I don't know!" Kendra stated in a panic. "First of all, he ducks and dives me for months and refuses to sign the divorce papers. Then he pulls a stunt like this."

"Well, what do you see around you?" Shell asked, pulling up her laptop.

Kendra looked outside the second floor window of the log cabin and sighed hopelessly. "Trees."

"Trees?!" the publicist shrieked.

"Yeah, trees," Kendra repeated. "I think he's gone all Grisly Adams and shit."

"Oh, honey," Shell sighed, shaking her head. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"No, I woke up and he wasn't here," she explained, glancing about the cozy rustic room. "All I know is he snatched me off the airport curb with the help of his ig'nant friends and then I was sedated for the rest of the ride. Shell, find me!"

"I'm working on it. I'm working on it," the publicist assured, tapping away on the computer.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open and a large, handsome man filled the doorway. He wore a long black T-shirt, baggy jeans and some fresh Timberlands. His long dreadlocks hung down his back in wild disarray, making him look like a crazed, brown lion in the bush. Kendra clutched the phone to her chest, staring at him in shock. He looked annoyed and his charcoal eyes were glaring at her cellphone. He had thought he had relieved her of all her gadgets, but no, Kendra was always resourceful. As if reading his mind, Kendra quickly put the phone back to her ear and began running around the room.

"Shell, find me quick, trace this call, call the CIA, the Feds, Superman, anybody!" she demanded trying to scurry around the room, avoiding her husband's attempt to snatch her one link to humanity. But it was no use, the tiny room worked to his advantage and not hers. Within seconds, he had a hold of her and pulled the device from her clutches, throwing it to the ground, smashing it.

Kendra stamped her foot and pumped her fists in defeat. "Damn you, Malcolm! What the fuck do you want from me?"

"For one thing, you shutting the hell up!" he growled. "Where the fuck did you hide this anyway?" he demanded, pointing at the now smashed phone.

"Like I'ma tell you," she pouted crossing her arms and rolling her neck.

He shook his head in frustration while picking up the broken pieces to toss in the trash bin by the desk. He turned toward his wife and just stared at her. She was still the most beautiful thing to him. Her raven locks were neatly cornrowed into a large and immaculate plaited bun. Her milk chocolate skin glistened cleanly against the fading sunlight. And those lips. God, what he wouldn't give just to kiss them right now?

She may have been fine with their separation, but he sure the hell wasn't. His dick certainly hadn't been. He was ashamed to admit the number of times he found himself coming awake with his member in his hand and an extra tip for the hotel maid for her cleaning troubles. And all of the blame lay right at this lil' missus's French pedicured toes. Kendra had done a fine job of building up a wall between them to rival the Grand Canyon. She was all smiles and the epitome of strength with her clients, but deep down she disguised her pain behind cellphones, PDAs, laptops and her stupid publicist, Shell.

Their problems had all started a year and a half ago with the miscarriage of their first child. One she had never come to grips with. Kendra could not stand to fail at anything and when the whole thing went down, she had refused to talk about it or try again. He figured she was angry at him for what had happened. Proof positive in the fact that she had refused to let Malcolm back into their marital bed as well as locked him out of her world completely.  She began build more buffers to keep him away by digging her head deeper into her work as a motivational speaker and celebrity life coach. Something Malcolm had found far too ironic.

On several occasions he had tried to get his wife to sit down and talk about what happened, but she flatly refused. He had hired a therapist, but she'd refused to go. He had tried a couples' retreat with some friends, but she (more like Shell) had arranged so many engagements there had been no room in her schedule. At one point, during a heated argument, Malcolm thought he had gotten her to open up, but she ended up blaming him for "cockblocking" her career advancements and ordered him to leave their Hollywood Hills home, which he did only to give her time to breath. However, enough was enough.

Now, Malcolm was a simple country boy who had made his ends in the rap game. His albums were chart toppers and he had gone on tour with some of the illest rap cats in the game. In fact, he had just completed his last world tour with Kanye West when he had decided he had to handle his wife once and for all. She had had the nerve to serve him with divorce papers while he was overseas, and that had been the last fucking straw. Once Amsterdam had closed, he was on the first Red Eye out to New York, where he knew Kendra was scheduled to make an appearance on The View. He had been able to get ahold of his boyhood friends, Kel and Hopper for the task.

They met him at the airport, where Kendra was scheduled to fly back to LA for another speaking engagement. Once she had stepped out of the cab, wearing a pair of sexy fitted jeans, a designer Donna Karan black button down and Aviator shades, Malcolm and the boys had made quick work of snatching her into his limo. After that, he had paid the driver to take them to a private airfield where a plane had been waiting to fly them to his hometown of Baton Rouge, Louisana. There was a cabin high in the hills away from civilization that his family had owned for generations. It sat on no maps and required a helicopter or horse ride to get to. Over the years, Malcolm had outfitted the shack with a state-of-the-art recording studio, but refused to put in any other modern technologies. This was the perfect place to get his wife back, but he knew he had a battle ahead, if Kendra had anything to say about it.

"Malcolm, if you do not get me on a plane to LA, right now, I am going to sue you for every royalty you got," she snapped.

"Listen here, cher," he threw back in his deep voice dripping with a hint of the Bayou. "I've let you run around with this brat-sized tantrum for far too long. Now, we are going to do this my way. I've taken everything from you that you've used to barricade yourself with. Your phones, your laptops, Shell. They ain't here. We are. And we gonna set this right."

"There is nothing to fix," she argued.

"You may be fine with 'irreconcilable differences', but my grandpappy once told me, ain't nothing that can't be fixed," he stated firmly.

"What are you gonna do? Nature me to death?" she growled.

"If that's what you want to call it," he said. "I prefer making you remember why you love this country boy."

The way his words rolled off his tongue sent a distinct tingle down her spine. Despite her outward protest, Kendra was still keenly attracted to her husband. In those low moments, when the fog of her world would clear, she would experience a flashback of them making love in their pool in the heat of the night. She'd remember how his hands would grip her ass all the while thrusting that... God she had no name for it because it was just that right, filling her up and throwing her over the wave of orgasm after orgasm. The feel of the water embracing them had always added to the sensations of his kisses and touches. She had particularly loved it when he would whisper sweet nothings in his Cajun creole, promising her a tryst in a real lake when they had the chance. Her toe was actually curling from the sheer memory.

Shaking the thought, getting her thoughts centered on her ire, Kendra placed her hands on her hips ready for battle, "Malcolm, I have a career and you can't just steal me off the street like a caveman."

"Best believe I can and did, cher," he contested, daring her to argue. "Don't worry none. I made sure to call all your engagements for the month and canceled them. You can't go preaching to folks when you don't follow your own gospel."

Kendra's mouth hung open in disbelief. How dare he say such a thing? She was a professional and the top in her career. But a little voice in the back of her head actually agreed with him.  She chose to ignore it at the moment.

"Malcolm, last time I checked, kidnapping was a felony - and over state lines, oh boy, are you racking it up," she scoffed crossing her arm. "Of course, it's no more than what I expected from a ig'nant thug like you. Were Hops and Kel between bids when they decided to help you?"

Malcolm strode over to his wife to loom over her. The woman had a mouth that could break the patience of saint. He knew she was just trying to get him angry enough to send her packing. It was a defense mechanism she had crafted and honed since childhood, growing up in the Bronx. Whenever folks tried to get close to her to help her, she lashed out determined to handle it on her own - or not at all. But he knew he had to get around this tactic with one of his own.

He had employed the help of a well-renown therapist who had supplied him with enough strategies to handle an army of crazed Kendras. He could tell she was looking for another whip of words to goad him, but before she could get her mouth open, he claimed her lips, defusing her barrage. His arms snaked around her, keeping her hands planted to his hard chest. Within seconds, he felt her melt into his body.

His tongue softly parted her lips to play with hers, swirling and tickling the edges, goading it to come to him and follow she did. She quickly discovered she had no control over her responses when it came to his kisses. It had been so long since she had indulged in her body's baser needs that everything Malcolm was doing was sparking her desire. His hands laid flat against her back, but didn't stay there for long. Soon, they were sliding down to her rounded bottom, kneading the small mounds like dough, pulling her further against his solid frame. Despite the bagginess of his jeans, she could still feel his erection rub against her core, sparking and teasing her desire.

Malcolm was a giant of a man at 6'7", with the rock hardness of a mountain. However, he was the gentlest lover she had ever known. Part of it, she believed was his full awareness of his height and strength. Once,
she had witnessed Malcolm knock a photographer out cold with one swing, after the man had made a disparaging remark about her, then, in the next minute, he softly took her hand to lead her to the car. He was a man who was in control of his emotions and his temper, except when it came to anyone hurting Kendra. However, Kendra knew why he had been so protective. Malcolm had come from a violent home life, where his druggie, alcoholic father had beaten his sweet mother to death. As a child, he had witnessed how a beast of a man had used his colossal strength to crush a tiny flower of a woman. From that day on, he vowed never to treat a woman so. Living with his maternal grandparents only strengthened that belief and he learned what love was supposed to be like and had brought his knowledge to their marriage.

Malcolm slowly pulled his lips away from Kendra's to playfully nibble her ear. "Tell me you missed me, cher," he pleaded sweetly. "Cause I missed you something bad. I need you."

"We can't do this," Kendra panted a protest weakly.

"Tell me you don't miss my lips here," he implored, tasting her neck. His fingers made quick work of her buttons. "Tell me you don't miss my hands here."

His fingers spread softly over her breasts, kneading them and tweaking the nipples. "Malcolm," she pleaded grudgingly trying to dislodge his hand.

"Tell me you don't touch that muff of yours when you think of me, cher," he persisted, working on her fitted jeans. "Lord knows with every waking minute I can't help myself."

"What are you doing to me?" she demanded. He was keeping her drugged in a haze of desire that kept rational thought from sneaking in.

Soon, Malcolm had pushed Kendra up against the far wall. After shedding her of her skinny jeans and shirt, she stood (barely) in a pair of lacy black panties with matching bra. It had taken all his control not to do the same. His skin was burning to touch hers, but his wife didn't need his selfishness right now. She needed to be loved and he was more than willing to do that. He inhaled her scent, taking in all the essence that made her a woman.

"C'mon, cher, tell me," he pleaded. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"Begin? Begin what?" she demanded breathlessly.

"Where you want my mouth?" he asked, holding her glassy gaze. "Where do you want me to taste you first?"

Kendra was held captive by her desire. His simple question was causing a maelstrom of feminine need to pool in her already drenched panties. What little protest she had faded into the recesses of her brain. She swallowed the huge lump in her throat, thinking of all the places she wanted to feel Malcolm's tongue touch. Fuck, he knew how to play with his tongue like he played with his words. A master craftsman. She inhaled deeply trying to clear her head, but Malcolm quickly ran his tongue across the bridge of her clavicle causing a shiver and a hushed exhale to run through her.

"I'm yours to command, cher," he whispered huskily into her ear, while his fingers pulled down the straps of her bra to reveal her hefty breasts. "Take your frustrations out on me."

Kendra reached out for Malcolm's locks, entwining her long chocolaty fingers through them, then, without a word, she pulled his mouth to her aching nipples. With breathlessly abandon she said, "There."

Malcolm licked his lips before applying his scorching tongue to her waiting aureole. Using the flat of his tongue, he painted and pressed the nub down, then tickled it to life with the faintest flick of the tip. Then he engulfed it with the warmth of his lips as his tongue continued to swirl and twirl. He took loving bites, trying to fit the hole morsel in his mouth. He repeated the motion with the other breast, ringing moans and sighs from his wife's lips. Her hands massaged his broad shoulders in pleasure, goading him on.

With a satisfied and wicked grin, he pulled away from her breasts to ask, "Where else?"

Kendra bit her lip trying to maintain some semblance of control, but was losing horribly. How could he still be able to do this to her? Make her melt and drip with such an aching need. It was primitive, animalistic. This was the very reason she had kicked him out of their bed. That Cajun Voodoo, he knew - so well. He could make her do things, say things, agree to things that no man on earth would dare. He had tried diligently for months to convince her to try again to have another baby, but what he just didn't understand was how painful and terrifying that experience had been for her. This was not a case of falling off the bike, dusting yourself off and trying again. She couldn't admit to him how she had felt like an utter failure, an undeserving person. She was Kendra. The Kendra: Life Coach Extraordinaire. Best-selling author. Super Fucking Woman. Yet, she couldn't do a simple thing as carry a baby. Shit, any hood rat could that! Why not her?

Tears sprang up in her eyes as she looked into the eyes of the man she had fallen helplessly in love with five years ago. He was her friend. He was her sexy lover. Why did she ever push him away? Seeing the tears, Malcolm leaned over and sweetly inhaled them into his mouth. His fingers gently caressed her cheek, acknowledging it was okay for her to let go.

"C'mon, cher, let me in," he begged. "Let me take it away."

Suddenly, Kendra melted back into Malcolm's arms, smashing her lips to his. Without hesitation, she wrapped her long legs about his waist, melding her frame to his. "All over, Malcolm," she said between kisses. "I want you to taste me all over."

"As you wish," he complied bringing her over to the bed, laying her down upon the homemade quilt.

He continued south on his journey, letting his tongue swivel and swerve over her navel. He left butterfly kisses on each hip like a road marker. All the while, his hands caressed and massaged the tension out of her body while also igniting and fanning the flames of her raging desire. Kendra sat up, reached over for the hem of his T-shirt and peeled it from his frame revealing the large tattoo inked on his back. It was an intricate image of a lion and lioness rounding each other in the Savanna bush. He had it inked a year after they got married, but there was something different in the image. At the far end of the image was a tiny cub rolling playfully on its back, not quite far from its parents.

When did he have this done? Peering closer, she saw a date stamped next to the cub. It was the date of her miscarriage. More tears sprang to her eyes, causing her to cover them with her hands to block the image. Malcolm quickly grabbed her wrists, not wanting her to hide her pain. "What is it, Kendra?" he asked.

"When did you do that?" she asked pointing at his back.

"Six months ago," he answered, touching his shoulder. "I had to have a way to deal with the pain, too. Since you had blocked me out, I found nothing to comfort me. I was having sleepless nights and was getting reckless with the drink, but the doc, she said that I needed to find something that would be a nice reminder, rather than a painful one. And so, I saw it fitting to add the cub, because she'd always be with me, even if you weren't. But it doesn't have to be that way."

Kendra wiped her tears, sniffling, "What do you mean?"

"Cher, there's more room on my back to ink a dozen cubs," he said, solemnly. "But I can't do that without you."

"Malcolm, I am so scared," she finally admitted.

"And I'm not?" he whispered. "Kendra, you don't know, but I had to make the call that day. You were in a real bad shape, and were slipping by the second. And I had to choose. You or the baby. Do you know I have to live with that? Do you know I wake up everyday thinking how much you must hate me for it?"

Kendra gasped in surprise at his admission, then guilt flooded her. "Oh, God, Malcolm, I don't hate you," she assured him. "I never realized you thought that."

"That's cause, cher, you shut me out," he reminded her. "You made work your priority and didn't give us time to heal. Then this foolishness with the divorce... what was I supposed to think?"

Kendra hugged herself, protectively, running her actions over in her head. He was right. All her actions had made it seem like she had been angry with him, when in fact she had been angry with herself. "Oh, Malcolm, I was mad at myself, I blamed myself for not watching out for the baby," she admitted. "I thought I had failed you - and her."

Malcolm sighed in relief, but quickly comforted his wife. "You can't fail me, Kendra. You only failed when you didn't try."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm. I'm so sorry," she apologized, sobbing, seeking his arms. After a moment of feeling his comfort surround her, she lifted her gaze and touched his dark chocolate cheek, "And yeah, I did miss my country boy."

Malcolm smiled sensuously at his wife. "Well, come show me how much you missed me, gal."

Kendra snaked her arms around him, drawing him back down on the bed. Just as quickly, she rolled him on his back and began to nuzzle his neck. Her lips kissed a wicked trail across his shoulders, to his chest, where she left a playful love bite just under his peck. Malcolm worked her bun loose to allow her braids to clatter against his rich dark skin. He loved feeling the tips of them graze his hide like a hundred fingertips in one caress. Kendra continued her tour of his body, refamiliarizing herself with his magnificent framework. She loved how his abs left dents in his hipbone, accentuating that special part of him before his jeans even had a chance to come off. Swiftly, Kendra took hold of his belt and began to remove it from its loop. Once that was done, she slowly unzipped them, holding his gaze steady.

The heat and passion that radiated between their eyes could ignite a fire. Kendra licked her lips slowly as she pulled his jeans down his hips and his legs. Her eyes were quickly drawn to his apex where his dick sprang to life as she pulled his black briefs down. Her hands immediately followed as her fingers swiftly wrapped around it possessively. Without the least hesitation, she trailed her tongue along the side of the fleshy tower, before engulfing it with her mouth.

"Oh, cher, careful now," he whispered in a hush, feeling the walls of her mouth constrict against him, sliding him in and out in fluid strokes.

Her fingers cupped his balls, feeling and adding to the heat there. Playfully, she tugged them down as her mouth continued to devour and lavish him with all the passion she was feeling. Malcolm was riding the edges of a climax and was damned to be outdone by this little vixen known as his wife. He quickly took control of the situation and pulled Kendra over his body, only to loose said control when she swiftly mounted him and slid into home on his waiting, throbbing member. In a rhythm all her own, Kendra grinded her pelvis against Malcolm's hips. The motion was a figure 8 that fell up and down on a beat, not to mention her pussy was picking up where her mouth had left off; tightening and devouring his dick like it was her muff's last meal.

Malcolm was hard pressed to keep his control. God, she felt so good and it had been so long. He lifted them up into a sitting position. Never separating their bodies, he was able to turn Kendra around so her back pressed flat against his chest. With nimble fingers that could strum a guitar like a pro, he sought her slick snatch and began to play a melody. His mouth suckled on the column of her long neck causing tingle after tingle to shimmy down her body. She was his slap bass and he was her drum. She kept right on rolling her hips against his dick, feeling it harden even more inside of her with each stroke. The feel of his fingers twirling her clit over and over coupled with his other hand toying with her breasts was sending her over the edge. 

Kendra crawled on all fours and began to push up on Malcolm's dick harder and harder eliciting a series of load groans. His fingers took hold of her waist and began to drive deeper and deeper into her core, seeking higher ground. He wasn't sure how much control he could maintain with the way she was giving as much as she was getting. He took hold of her braids to pull her back against his body. His lips kissed her ears gently, before whispering, "Let me spill up in you, cher."

Mindless in her desire, Kendra could feel her own climax coming and was damned to let it stop because a tiny shred of fear. She turned in his arms, wrapped her legs back around his waist, and drew him back into her center. "Take me, fill me, country boy," she demanded, feeling him harden even more from her words. "Make me a baby."

Malcolm pushed her down on the bed and began to pile drive his member hard into her, ringing a scream of desire and need from her lips. All he could hear was Kendra chant his name like fans at his concerts, which made him smile delighted. Soon, a shiver and tremble ran through his wife's body followed by his own growl of satisfaction that took him over the edge and back. Sighing in exhaustion, he leaned down and kissed Kendra sweetly. She panted breathlessly into his mouth giving and taking his air. They stayed connected for a long while, marinating in their pleasure. However, despite his exhaustion, Malcolm could his body gearing up for round two. He could feel his lil soldier beginning to stiffen up again. causing him to chuckle wickedly, wondering if Kendra would oblige him.

"Malcolm?" Kendra implored at the sound of his chuckle, then gasped when she felt his member fill her up again. Their eyes met, Malcolm's with a playful gleam, Kendra's in amazement.

"Listen, cher, you asked me to make you a baby," he warned her before crashing his lips against hers. "It's gonna be a long month, and a lot of over time."

"Oh, country boy!" she exclaimed, falling in rhythm with her husband. It was going to be a long month indeed.

Darling Niki

The fellas had convinced him to go out. After the two years, he had been through he had more than deserved it. Still, Troy wasn't truly invested in the good time the fellas were offering to him. He was still trying to come to grips with his wife's accident. She had been one of the many victims in a 15 car pile up on the Interstate and the really fucked up thing was her body had never been recovered. His fellow police officers had been able to find Tracey's charred up Honda Accord, but they had never found her or her remains, which had made it even harder for Troy to accept that she was gone. He recalled spending weeks trolling through hospitals and morgues asking if anyone had seen a woman fitting her description but he'd met with shaking heads and lame apologies.

What made the situation worse was the guilt he continued to feel. The last time he had seen Tracey was when she had stormed out of the house after an argument. Tracey had just found out that Troy had slept with one of his female co-workers. He had spent that rainy morning trying to convince Tracey that it had been a one-time thing and that he'd never do it again. She had been so enraged and heartbroken she had grabbed her keys and run out of the house before Troy could stop her. That was the last time he had seen his wife - alive.

Troy and Tracey had known each other since high school. He'd been the quintessential jock, playing on the basketball and football team. He could've had any girl in the school, but he'd wanted Tracey. She wasn't the prom queen, but she wasn't a hag either. She had charm and wit. Her hazel eyes were welcoming and warm, framed in a doe shape. Her beautiful caramel skin shown sweetly, leaving a beautiful canvas for her lush lips and high cheek bones. Her light brown hair had hung down to her pert little ass and had been the envy of her friends for its thickness and mass of curls. Her smile lit up a room and her positive spirit made everyone feel good.

Unfortunately, after having their son, she had let herself go terribly and she just wasn't the same spirit she had been before they had gotten married. Her sweet cream attitude had gone sour. She had become short tempered and moody. She had gained a gross 70lbs that had made her look older than her 24 years. Because of this, their sex life had dwindled to nothing. Mainly due to Tracey refusing to sleep with him in her shame. Troy, who was admittedly not the most patient man, chose not to deal with this shift in his wife or their growing problems. Instead of trying to figure out where things had gone wrong and be more supportive and sensitive to his wife's need, Troy had jumped into the arms of another woman to fill his. A decision that still haunted him now. He wanted closure. But without a body to bury or confirmation she was alive, it looked like it would never happen.

"A-yo, Troy! C'mon, man!" his boy and partner, Calvin called from the bar closest to the stage.

Calvin was his best friend. He'd been his best man as he'd been his. He was the one who suggested they hit the town with his other cohorts to "shake out the ol' sheets" to quote Calvin. They had decided there was no better place than the strip club. Preferably one that was two to three counties over, so Calvin's wife wouldn't go ape shit on him. The heavy beats pulsed through the speakers drowning out any real thoughts other than the nasty ones running through the heads of the dirty old men sitting stage side. Troy was sidling up to his buddies just as they were discussing the local talent.

"I heard she could make you come with just a look," Terry proclaimed, bouncing to the new Trey Songz joint featuring 50 Cent.

"I heard cats are using her picture rather than their Viagra prescriptions," Calvin joked, causing a roar of laughter to peel through the crowd.

"Fuck, what's her name?" Keith asked, curiously, sipping his Cognac.

"Niki Rochambeau," Calvin sighed waving his hand before him. "Don't that just scream, 'I know how to give head'."

The fellas laughed, while Troy casually sipped his Capt'n Coke quietly, perusing the room filled with patrons and dancers. Suddenly, he felt Calvin's hand clap him on his broad shoulder as if he was trying to wake him from a dream. "A-yo, I may shell out some ductets for my ace, Troy, to get a lap dance from Darling Niki."

"Cal, you better not," Troy growled, shrugging off his friend's hand and returning his eyes to the room.

"C'mon, Troy, you gotta live," Calvin threw back calling the bartender over to see how he could get the dance arranged.

Suddenly, the house DJ came on the mic. "Hey, everybody, I know you are enjoying yourselves, but we ain't done here at the Dick & Bunny. If you're a regular you know what time it is. So get your saddles ready and grip your harnesses tight, because coming to the main stage is our very own Reverse Cowgirl, Nik-ki Ro-Cham-Beau!"

Suddenly, the lights in the club dimmed and the opening to T-Pain's Reverse Cowgirl came through the loud speakers. Troy, like everyone else, stared at the stage transfixed as a sultry silhouette filled the sheer white curtain. The body behind it was flawless and curvy, a fitting tease. As if by magic and crowd demand, she floated backwards onto the stage quickly dispensing with a black cowboy hat and revealing a taut, firm ass encased in a pair of painted on black leather pants with matching silver studded chaps. The fellas began hooting and hollering like cowhands on a dude ranch, watching a rodeo.

Troy was mesmerized. Her pitch black hair was clipped short into a spiked faux-hawk that piled high on her head then crested over her face, obscuring her eyes, which were covered with Aviator sunglasses. She wore a very short, silver studded bolero sleeve across her shoulders, giving the crowd a partial look at her bare back. Slung low on her hips was a holster with two toy silver pistols. On her feet she wore at least 6 inch high silver stiletto shoes. A foot fetishist's dream.

As she turned around, the audience was treated to quite a show. Her abs were tight but soft and her breasts were full and mouth-watering. Her aureoles were strategically hidden behind silver nipple rings shaped like Old West sheriff badges and as she shook them they glinted in the light. Pulling out the toy pistols, Niki began to "shoot" patrons with each pulse of the song. When she felt she had "taken out" the appropriate clientele, she dropped the guns and jolted into a series of sexy moves meant to tease and stroke their imagination. Within one of those pulses, she had swiftly removed the shoulder sleeve and tossed it to the crowd, causing a shark like frenzy in the front row. As the first versus came through, she strutted slowly toward the front of the stage, keeping one patron's gaze steady on her like a snake charmer. Once she had him captured she swirled hips down, spreading her thighs to his welcoming ogle. The morbidly obese fellow was literally drooling as Niki reached her gloved hands out to stroke his beard. If Fats Domino were alive, this man would be him, only uglier, but Niki was treating him like he was Tyson Beckford.

She seductively straddled the large man and pulled his sweaty, black face into her bare chest, allowing him to taste and smell her sweat. Before the chorus could finish, Niki could feel the man shutter in ecstasy, causing a wicked smile to cross her cherry red lips. He definitely was gonna need a trip to the bathroom for a clean up. But just as smoothly as she had got on him, she got off, reclaiming the stage and her trusty pole, where she executed several acrobatic moves that had the crowd roaring for more. Not wanting to disappoint, she boldly snatched off her chaps causing more raucous behavior.

From her first appearance on stage, Troy had studied Niki closely. And with each passing minute, her features and her movements caused a primitive stirring deep within him. Those lips - glossy red and pouting like a plump cherry. That pert little nose. Her body was a masterpiece of fitness and discipline. With each move, he could see her muscles retract and relax, serpent like. He hadn't had a woman since Tracey and he hadn't missed it until this moment staring up at Niki. He could feel his dick harden up like brick in his baggy jeans. Something about Niki drew him to her like a lion stalking a new mate. Her smile was familiar. The flick of her hand was familiar. Suddenly, as she removed her glasses, placing them on a patron who worshiped every minute of her, she turned around and stared right at Troy. Her eyes were illuminated by the spotlight and the recognition kicked in like a jab to the stomach. Her eyes were light hazel beneath a smoldering, smoky look.

Troy stood in disbelief. Then, suddenly, as Niki removed her painted on leather pants, he caught a glimpse of something else. A tattoo. Just in the instep of her right ankle. It matched perfectly. A prowling panther. That was all the confirmation he needed to take action. Without warning, Troy bolted for the stage, knocking down patrons left and right, making his way to her. Niki had been so busy working the crowd to the far left that she hadn't noticed Troy coming up behind her, until he snatched her arm to swing her around.

"Tracey?!" he growled with a mixture of pain and disbelief.

Niki stared confused at the man. She didn't know him, per se, but she recognized him from her dreams. He was her Dream Man. Usually he was all sexy smiles and steamy eyes, but looking at this man she sensed nothing but great loss and pain. Shaking the feeling and knowing Red would soon send over security to rough up her hot chocolate, she gave him a placating smile, hoping to defuse the situation. She gently touched the hand gripping her arm.

"Easy, Big Man," she purred. "I'm not this Tracey, but I'm kinda wishing I was."

Unconvinced, Troy gripped both her arms glaring into her eyes. He knew better. Sure the last time he had seen Tracey she was overweight, dumpy looking and no way the vixen that stood before him now, but her eyes and that tattoo and its placement was his wife's. Suddenly, security surrounded him, ready to toss him on his ass outside the club, which prompted Calvin and the fellas to action to cover their boy. Refusing to be caught in a fight, Niki broke from Troy's hold to calm the stand off.

"I got this, boys. He's just confused," she assured them, then to Troy she whispered. "Why don't I take you in the back for a private dance. Ok?"

Troy stared at the mean looking bouncers, then her and nodded compliantly. He couldn't be a hundred percent sure she would show, but something said she would. One of the security boys walked over to Niki. She whispered something back to him, prompting a nod of reassurance. Troy also nodded over to Calvin to stand down and motioned for him to wait.

When Calvin nodded his consent, Niki let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The chocolate brother was fine as hell and the more she looked at him the more he looked like her Dream Man. The one who haunted her dreams for the last year and a half. He was the richest dark chocolate she had ever seen, with a shiny bald head and sharp features. His shoulders were wide, but not in that bodybuilder way, athletic like a football player. Despite the steeliness of his grip, his hands were soft, not a speck of ash. His lips were full and ripe, the kind made for sucking pussy the right way. She wondered if he could do her like Dream Man did. Hold on now. Was she seriously contemplating doing what she was thinking of doing?

Ever since she had been released from the hospital, Niki had been trying to piece her life back together. She had spent six months recouping from some accident she had no recollection of, nor the life she had before it. All she had to go by were the markings on her body and the explicit dreams she'd had of this man. Now, here he was in the club calling her by a name she had no attachment to.

At first, she had begun to think he was a figment of her imagination - a side effect from the accident. Every night Niki's clit would roar to life as another dream would catch her spirit and shake her. It was never the same dream twice, just the same man. Last night's dream had him walking into the room wearing red satin pajama bottoms and nothing else. His abs were tight and rippled, glistening from a fresh shower. Niki was laid out on a King-sized mattress surrounded in the same red satin as his bottoms and nothing else. As he'd approached the bed, his gaze stroked every corner of her body. She could feel the juice flood out of her like molten caramel on a sundae. Her pussy was calling - and hard.


Dream Man had made it to the foot of the bed, still staring and visually stroking her. Slowly, torturously, he placed his knee on the bed and slid between her welcoming legs to feast on the dessert waiting on him. His tongue had lavished warmly on her swollen folds, melting them further and further into an erotic liqueur, which he guzzled thirstily. Her body writhed in ecstasy as he coupled the mouth worship with gentle strokes to her breasts. Kneading and puckering her already sensitive nipples, he stirred her up right tight. Soon, he replaced his hands with his drenched mouth and began devouring her large mounds like a fat kid to a red velvet cupcake. Niki moaned and pawed at Dream Man begging for release.

Sweat beaded her temple and she couldn't take much more torture than what he was throwing. She could feel his thick member right at her entrance, as she always did, and just as he was preparing to thrust into her, she woke up on the brink of a glorious climax. And that's how the dreams would go, just when she thought fulfillment was close, boom, she woke up and would need to finish where he started. Fuck! But maybe not this time, Niki thought as she exited the stage. Maybe the real Dream Man would be willing to finish.

Troy stood in the dimly lit back room, ready for an ambush. The room was covered in mirrors from the walls to the ceiling with a simple, silver pole in the middle along with one black leather chair. A waitress had entered in with a fresh bottle of champagne and two glasses and promptly left. Troy refused to take a seat. His body was tense, his mind was reeling and his guard was up. When one of the mirrored walls pulled back to reveal Niki, he felt only the slightest relief - his guard was still up. She slowly sauntered into the room, wearing a long black satin kimono robe. Her shapely bare legs swished in and out of the sheath drawing his eye. Picking up the bottle and flute in one motion, Niki poured a glass.

"What's your name, handsome?" she asked handing him the glass.

"You know my name," he threw back accepting the drink.

"Let's pretend I don't," she insisted pouring her own cup. "Hi, my name is..."

"Troy."

"See, that wasn't so hard," she smiled, sipping her drink. "I'm Niki." She extended her hand graciously.
Frustrated but needing answers, Troy played along and accepted the offered hand. "That's a firm handshake, Troy. You can always tell a lot about a man by his handshake-"

"Look, can we cut the bull?" he interrupted, agitated. "Tracey, where have you been? Why are you here?"

"Hey, my name is Niki..." she cut in.

"No, your name is Tracey," he cut back. "Tracey Margret Gusto. You have a son named, Nikolas, and a husband named Troy. You were a Marketing Assistant for Hills & Barry. Your favorite color is red. Your favorite food is sushi. And you have a tattoo on your right inside ankle of a panther and you have another one on your left inside wrist that says, Niki. That's the nickname you gave our son."

Niki stood transfixed. Everything he was saying made sense, but how? Why? For some reason, she had always believed that Niki wasn't her real name, but the doctors and nurses had taken to calling her that because they had found no other identification for her. She also had wondered about the faded scar in her lower abdomen, but was hard pressed to remember how she got it. It had been frustrating trying to recall even a small tidbit of who she was and have no logically answers. The doctors said that the force of her head trauma had been so severe she had been comatose for a solid month and a half. He had even gone as far as saying they had believed she would never come out of it.

Then there were the incredible erotic dreams featuring this piece of candy standing before her. She remembered feeling so sexy and hot as he fucked her or came close to fucking her. But she also remembered feeling miserable and betrayed. When she had awakened from her coma and found this gross overweight heifer in the bed, she refused to believe it was her body and she was damned to keep it. So, once the docs had okayed it she had began working out like a beast, all the while completing her rehab. Within less than three months, she had shed the ugly fat and replaced it with the chiseled framework currently in her possession. It was also at the gym that she had met Blu, a local exotic dancer.

She had been checking Niki out at the pole dancing class in the gym and saw that she had game. Since Niki had no income coming in, couldn't remember what she had been doing before the accident and medical bills piling up, she had seen no reason not to take up the job. So, she had signed on to the Dick and Bunny, which Blu owned with her husband, Red. Within six months of working the pole, Niki had become a headliner and a major draw allowing Blu to take her retirement early and run operations behind the scene.Within that time she had also been able to move out of the halfway house, find an apartment and pay off the medical debt she had incurred.

She only just started trying to piece her life back together and learning who she was, when this chocolate morsel barged into her club to flip the script. Shit, it was all too much. She was his wife? She had a kid? Fuck, if she wasn't so horny right now, she'd be passed out in the chair. Taking a deep breath, she approached Troy. Her hand gently touch his clean shaven jawline then traveled up to his bald head. God, he felt so real. If this was hers, why couldn't she remember it? Troy, too, was drawn in by the spell she was casting. He could smell her, feel her her heat against his pant leg. She was so close. His attraction to this new Tracey was instant, ravenous.

"Well, if I am who you say I am, then how come it took you so long?" she asked, breathless.

"I tried to find you, but no one knew what had happened to you," he explained huskily, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "It was just assumed you had perished in the car fire."

"But you didn't believe that, did you, Big Man?" she whispered, her eyes holding his. Her hand had drifted down his shirt to settle possessively over his manhood. When her nimble fingers closed around his balls, Troy caught his breath. The old Tracey would have never been this forward. In fact, she'd been a virgin on their wedding night and missionary was as bold as she'd get, but this Tracey-Niki character appeared to be a seasoned vet. Torn from a scene out of a porno. He didn't want to think about where she had picked up her techniques. His focus had become his desiring her.

Shit, the first thing he had wanted to do when he recognized her was drag her off the stage and to the nearest hotel. Now, here they were in the backroom of a strip club and Tracey a.k.a Niki was hitting on him hard and he was hard pressed to deny her.

Niki was fascinated by the bulk of his manhood. She gently rolled his balls measuring their stiffness and hefty. His lengthy dick was jabbing a hole in her side, causing her temperature to rise by five or more degrees. Not satisfied with the cloth blocking her, Niki unzipped his pants to get a better grip of the situation. Despite the heavy news that had been thrown her way, she was more intent on getting fulfilled after months of living on a dream. She stopped counting the number of times sleaze balls in the D&B had solicited her affections, offering astronomical amounts of cash for just 10 minutes. Luckily, she hadn't been that desperate. As soon as Troy felt the skin of her palm against his bare manhood, he groaned sexily and crushed her to his body for a hot kiss.

Niki devoured it in gulps. Troy gripped her neck possessively as Niki went to work stroking his ego. Her fingertips barely touched from the shear magnitude of his girth. He was exceeding her expectations and she liked it. She tore away from his mouth and began nibbling on his neck playfully. Troy wanted to do his own measurements. He unlaced the ties of her kimono robe. He wasn't surprised to find that she had nothing on underneath. His eyes glazed over the taut panels of her new body. If he had just the body to recognize her, he would've failed. Gone was the saggy pouch. Her hips were smaller, but still full and curvy. Her boobs looked firmer and fuller with a hint of muscle beneath. She had downsized the sheriff badges on her nipples to simple silver loops. They were delectably presented to him and calling out to Troy's mouth.

His hands settled on her hips, kneading them sensually as he leaned his head down to sip the temptation. Niki's hands rested on his bald head, encouraging him to take his fill. "Yes, baby, drink me up," she whispered, letting out a gasp. Troy lavished attention on the other studded nipple, treating it to the same treatment as the other. His tongue swirled and poked the sensitive nub, rolling the metal and flesh over his tongue. His teeth gently tugged and teased. His reward was her chorus of moans. Niki pulled his head up, framing his face between her hands. Her eyes penetrated his soul deeply as she opened her lips to say, "Taste me."

Not willing to deny her anything, Troy bent down on his knee, all the while his eyes never disconnecting from hers. He wanted to see her reaction the minute he laid his tongue on her. And with all brazenness, she watched patiently as he made his descent. Still gripping her hips, he lowered his mouth to her freshly waxed puss. In her line of work, it paid to be bare. Her essence assailed his nostrils, hardening his dick to painful degrees. Soon, his tongue touched the zinging core of her. Her clit jumped and shiver in reaction to the slick warmth of his tongue. In response, Troy's lips closed around the tiny nub and began to suckle. Niki's eyes closed in the purest pleasure as a shiver ran down her spine in rapid succession. She had no command of her knees as they wavered beneath her.

Her breathing was ragged as she praised his work. "Just like that," she whined softly. "Work that hurricane tongue."

She was on the verge of a climax. Suddenly, a slight fear caught her that this wasn't real, but a dream and Dream Man would vanished, but as quickly as the fear had come it disappeared, when she felt his ring and middle fingers penetrate her nethers. Rolling orgasms shook her body and ripped a series of screams from her lips. "Oh, God, fuck me!" she demanded, falling into his arms. "Don't stop, just keep fucking me!'

Troy took hold of her and quickly got her in position. His manhood was more than ready and he prayed he made a good showing. It had been so long and he was so desperate to mate with his wife. Throwing caution to the wind, he drove himself to the hilt inside of Tracey, Niki and just laid their. He could feel the muscles of her puss squeeze him, begging him to stay. He withdrew slowly, feeling every inch of her velvet tunnel, then thrusted forcefully back into place. Niki was moaning and demanding more. Her body was gearing up for another round of orgasms.

"Damn, baby!" Troy ground out between thrusts. "You feel so good. This pussy's too good. I wanna marinate in it forever. I missed you."

Niki just laid back and enjoyed the ride. She was loving every minute of it. Wanting to take control, she flipped him over on his back and climbed on top. She took the reins and began to ride him like a true cowgirl. Her hips swiveled and bounced on his dick like she was riding the rough terrain of the Old West. She tightened and untightened her walls bringing Troy to the brink and back. She could feel another climax kicking in and rode the wave as she felt Troy also begin to shudder. Soon, Niki was completely satisfied when she heard Troy growl in total pleasure and felt a warm, milky flood fill her insides.

She was content... But only for a minute. Something flicked in her mind. A memory. As she gazed down at Troy, she remembered why she had been so miserable, so betrayed. This motherfucker had cheated on her! This Dream Man, this Nightmare, had cheated on her!

Troy leaned up on his elbows to study Tracey, only to have her haul off and slap him coldly, stunning him soundly. Niki rolled off him and quickly belted her kimono. Once she was sure everything had been covered, she pointed an accusing finger at him, ordering, "Stay the fuck away from me! Pretend you never found me! Because as far as I'm concerned. I'm dead to you."

With that, she stalked off, leaving Troy dazed, gripping his stinging cheek. He sighed tiredly, vowing, "Can't do that, baby. I need to make this right."