That Damn Good 20XX

2017 hours

Dorian Jackson stepped out of the door of his aunt's house and looked around. Even though it had been a year since he had last been home to Philadelphia, the neighborhood hadn't changed a bit. He shook his head and turned the corner to walk towards the bus stop on 52nd Street, a block down the street. When he was still about half a block away, he saw the bus stopping at the corner. Dorian's heart sank. As strong a runner as military service had made him over the past few years, the distance was too great for him to cover, especially considering he was wearing his favorite pair of boots. They were good looking, and being steel-toed, also handy in case Dorian found himself in the midst of a conflict. The trade-off was, however, that the high tops didn't allow for very much mobility. In any event, having missed the bus, Dorian decided to go take a walk through his old neighborhood; he had lived at one time just two blocks north of where his aunt currently resided.

As Dorian sat on the porch of his old house on 53rd Street, memories long forgotten came flooding back to him: the time he won the African-American history competition as a fourth-grader; going to the last showing at the Capital Theater around the corner and seeing "Fists of Glory 3" and "Soul Survivor" in the same night; the cheesesteaks he used to eat at the restaurant at the top of the block where his father worked at one point; and the countless games of street football he played with his friends. Dorian ran a hand through his hair as he looked around. Apart from himself the block was empty, the residents safe inside their homes from the winter cold. He wondered if any of the same people still lived there. Not likely, he mused, but who knows? What he did know was that it was getting darker, and for Philadelphia Februarys, darker equated with colder. He moved over to 52nd Street and, after several minutes without a bus coming by, he began walking due south, towards his father's house where he had been staying the past two weeks. It was his last night home before reporting to his next duty station and he had to finish packing his luggage.

2042 hours

About three blocks south of his starting point, Dorian happened to glance down the street to his left and noticed a sign for a hotel. He couldn't quite believe his eyes, so he broke his course and went to take a closer look. Sure enough, there it was, as plain as could be: the Black Moon Hotel. He recognized the name from a story he had heard: his father's best friend had somehow ended up there and he had gone and gotten her. Dorian went inside and checked the room rates. They weren't bad: a single bed with bath for only $19 for twelve hours. The gears in Dorian's mind immediately started turning, and one could see from the sudden glint in his eyes that he was up to something…

2226 hours

Janelle Tillman sat in her bedroom surfing the Internet, as she did almost every night. She was bored and horny like, much to her dismay, she was almost every night. She was lightly fingering herself to a picture of a local guy she had met online a few days before when her instant messenger sounded twice, snapping her attention. She checked to see where the sound was coming from. It was a message from that_damn_good_20xx. Finally, she sighed. It was the person she had been waiting for all night: the man the picture belonged to. She wrote back a terse, one-handed response:

"that_damn_good_20xx: Hey Janelle"

"that_damn_good_20xx: How are you this evening?"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: good and u?"

"that_damn_good_20xx: Cool, cool… I just finished packing up my stuff"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: oh, that's right, you leave tomorrow"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: where are u going"

"that_damn_good_20xx: TX"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: ok"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: i remember now"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: so what you wearing sexy?"

A short delay, then the person on the other end answered, "that_damn_good_20xx: Sweatshirt, t-shirt, wife beater, blue jeans, black boots… You?"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: white t-shirt"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: red thong w/ white hearts"

"that_damn_good_20xx: Mmmmmmmm… =P~"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: what are you doing?"

"that_damn_good_20xx: Wishing you were here…"

"that_damn_good_20xx: tossing those clothes on my floor…"

"that_damn_good_20xx: while firmly seated on my face :P"

Janelle's cunt began to leak slightly; talk like that always did excite her. Her fingers began moving faster, consciously or not.

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: too bad i didn't get some time alone with you"

"that_damn_good_20xx: Well, keep in mind, the night's not over yet >:)"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: lol"

"that_damn_good_20xx: Listen to this"

"that_damn_good_20xx: I found a hotel nearby"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: o really" Janelle was grateful that there was a computer screen between the two of them, as she was now almost as flushed as her pussy. She yanked her thong down around her knees with one hand, the fingers of the other now flying furiously in and out of her snatch.

"that_damn_good_20xx: Yeah"

"that_damn_good_20xx: It's cheap, and from what I can see of it, it's a pretty decent place"

"that_damn_good_20xx: And I was wondering if perhaps you'd like to go get a room with me?"

There was a long delay on Janelle's end…

"that_damn_good_20xx: Still there?

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: sorry"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: i was cumming"

"that_damn_good_20xx: OIC… LMAO"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: not funny"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: you made me cum"

"that_damn_good_20xx: And how do you figure that? :-/"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: i'm not telling you you'll laugh at me"

"that_damn_good_20xx: No I won't"

"that_damn_good_20xx: I promise"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: i was masturbating to ur pic"

" that_damn_good_20xx: OMG"

"that_damn_good_20xx: Are you serious?"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: lol yes"

"that_damn_good_20xx: Damn"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: i could really use some help tho"

"that_damn_good_20xx: Then I'll see you at your house in half an hour"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: hmm… will it be worth it :-?"

"that_damn_good_20xx: LOL… Hey, I got a screen name to live up to, don't I? :))"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: lol"

"caramel_dimepiece_2003: sounds good to me"

"that_damn_good_20xx: All right, see you later"

"that_damn_good_20xx: Bye"

"SYSTEM ALERT: that_damn_good_20xx has logged out. (2236 02/11/04)"

2236 hours

Dorian shut his computer down and went upstairs to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, swiped on some deodorant, and decided to shave. Although it was almost like a religion to not shave when he didn't have to report for duty, Dorian decided to do so tonight for two reasons. One was so that he would be presenting himself at a new unit the next day, and a day's growth was for him personally acceptable, but anything else wasn't, vacation or not. Two, and perhaps more important than one, was that he hadn't eaten any pussy since he'd been home, and he was simply dying for a taste. Janelle was going to get eaten like a Thanksgiving turkey on the plate of a soldier who'd just come home from war.

Dorian knocked on his dad's door to let him know he was leaving, and then headed back downstairs. He stopped at the closet where his belongings were. Two leather jackets were hanging up; Dorian was the only person that anybody knew to not only own two leather jackets, but to wear them both at the same time when the weather merited. Tonight Dorian had been wearing the lighter one, and although it was not cold enough to wear both, it certainly wasn't warm enough for the light one. Dorian donned the heavier jacket and did his usual pocket check. He inventoried his wallet, identification, bus pass and cell phone. Once he was satisfied he had everything, he put his tube scarf up around his face and set out the door. He didn't get very far, however, before realizing that, given the circumstances, he had forgotten the most important thing of all. He returned to the house and, from the inner pocket of his lighter leather jacket, he pulled a package of condoms and went back on his way.

2236 hours

Janelle logged off her computer and checked the clock. Knowing how fast Dorian was capable of moving, she realized she actually had only about twenty-five minutes to be at her absolute sexiest. She took a quick, yet thorough shower, paying special attention to her vagina. Paying the right amount of attention proved to be no easy task, however, because just the thought of her biggest fantasy being moments away from coming true meant that every time she passed her hand near it, she just couldn't help but give her clit a quick squeeze. Eventually she stopped, realizing she was going to come again before he even got to her house, and that would have made for a very poor night indeed. She put on her sexiest thong underwear, and a sheer lace bra. She made a point not to overdo the perfume, as it is often embarrassing when getting licked in those oh-so-delightful places, only to have one's partner pull away because of the overwhelming taste of perfume. She put on a pair of hip-hugger blue jeans, a white midriff t-shirt, and a sky blue wool sweater. She put on some light cosmetics, taking into account the time; she wanted to be ready when Dorian got there, applying the basest, most carnal principles of reason: every second he had to wait for her was one less second they could be alone together, and one less second alone translated into one less second of hot, steamy sex. She was just putting on her coat and heading downstairs when the phone rang. She smiled as she thought to herself, "Perfect timing."

2304 hours

"Hello?"

"Hey. I'm outside."

"I'll be right there." Janelle hung the phone up and stepped outside, locking the door behind her. She saw Dorian on the sidewalk below, facing the street. Dorian heard the door closing and locking, and a sly grin crept across his face. He turned around just enough to glimpse her out of the corner of his eye. She had a demure appeal to her, which only served to excite Dorian further. He now turned completely to face her and he took her hand as she came down the stairs. He took note of how she was dressed. She had one of those bodies that you could put anything on and make it look good. If she was dressing to impress, it sufficed to say that she had succeeded.

The pair made haste to the hotel, which was about eight city blocks from Janelle's house. They chitchatted about various things on the way: life, the military, and hopes and expectations for the future. Oddly enough, their conversation over the computer was never brought up. In any event, in what seemed like no time at all, they had reached the Black Moon and were checking in at the front desk. They followed the reception through the halls to their assigned room; upon arriving, the receptionist unlocked the door and promptly left. Dorian cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "That is what we in the business call strange," he muttered.

"What's that?"

"We don't get a key."

"Oh…that is strange…" Dorian took his coat off and hung it at the door. Janelle moved past him into the room and took a look around. To be in the ghetto, this was a surprisingly nice hotel. "Look at this," she exclaimed. "Bed made all nice and pretty; sheets nice and white; everything nice and clean… pretty good to be in the ghetto." Dorian feigned a laugh. Even though it was the ghetto, it was his old neighborhood, a place he still considered home. Ghetto or not, it was moot at this point, as the only thing that matter to each of them was the presence of the other. They were intent on enjoying themselves to the fullest tonight, as nothing is ever certain in life, like if two lovers for one night are to ever meet again or not. By now, Janelle had already turned the heater and climbed into bed. Dorian removed his top two shirts, leaving only his undershirt, and climbed into bed alongside Janelle. She began examining his tattoos and asking him to explain them to her, which he did which the same enthusiasm as he had used when explaining them to everyone else. After explaining the three on his arms, he removed his undershirt to show her the three across his back. That was all the undressing he would do for the moment, he mused. He didn't want to be naked with his woman there fully clothed, lest she think he was a little too eager. However, clothing was an issue that Dorian was an expert at resolving. He excused himself to the bathroom. Once inside and having the door closed behind him, he relieved himself, flushed the toilet, washed his hands and threw some water on his face. He took a long look at himself in the mirror, making the face that he had taken his photo of; the one that Janelle, by her own admission, had been masturbating to when he messaged her. "All right, it's showtime," he hyped himself as he exited the bathroom.

2340 hours

Dorian opened the door and found the room dark; Janelle had gone and switched the lights off while he was in the bathroom. He unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them, leaving him in his boxers and undershirt. He climbed back into the bed and reached out for Janelle. She had his back to him, so he moved up against her. That's when he felt it. Even having clothes on, it was a sensation he had been trained to: she was completely nude. This threw Dorian's train of thought off track; he had planned on undressing her himself. No matter, as when he had a woman naked, he deemed her naked regardless of how she got that way. Now, how do I light the fuse, he mulled. This was one of Dorian's 'quirks': he was too logical, even during sex. He always planned his techniques out one or two moves in advance. However, his approaches had never yielded anything but positive results, and as the old saying goes, one doesn't fix what isn't broken.

As far as the current situation was concerned, Dorian had two options: go from her ear to her breasts to her stomach before finally arriving at her pussy, or lick down her spinal cord. Given her positioning, the back would have been perhaps more convenient, however too much movement would be required when he got to the small of her back. He could always start by eating her ass but that was not something Dorian enjoyed doing. As perhaps a last resort in convincing a girl to give up it worked, but it was never something he had ever considered with a woman who was ready and willing. That settled it; he would start at the ears. Going down the front of Janelle's body would leave her in ideal position to allow Dorian's hyperactive tongue to reach her most sensitive of places. Hell, perhaps she might even map out what do to for him.

2342 hours

Having finally decided of a plan of action, Dorian put his arm around Janelle pulled her as close into his own body as he could. He rose up on one elbow and leaned over her head. He took a moment to take in her scent. A faint spray of Chance by Chanel and heavy female pheromones were one hell of a combination; a man could get high off of an aroma like that. His dick swelled up just from her fragrance. He leaned in closer and blew lightly on, then licked around, her outer ear. She let out a low moan and began grinding her ass against his hard-on. Now Dorian was getting turned on, and he let Janelle know it by taking her entire ear into his mouth and playing with it with his tongue. Naturally, this only served to excite Janelle even more (whether or not that was possible at this point was a matter for debate) and she pulled the right arm that Dorian had previously had around her waist and moved it to her chest. The first time they had met, Dorian had wondered how such a small woman could carry such large boobs; she was built similarly to him, and they both weighed about the same. He guessed her to be a 36D in size. Of course, none of these thoughts entered his head now. All that mattered was that they were his to do with what he pleased, which is exactly what he was set on doing. He turned her onto her back and attended to Janelle's far breast with his hand, while moving his mouth to the nearer one. Now he was uncomfortable; his left arm was slack at his side. No problem though; he simply propped up Janelle's head and put his arm under it. This way he could actually reach Janelle's left tit from a different angle, which now left his right hand free. Of course, he knew exactly what to do with that.

0002 hours

Janelle moaned in ecstasy as Dorian nibbled, sucked, licked, pinched, squeezed and tweaked her now fully erect nipples. She clenched her legs together as her excitement level soared; what had started as a smoldering sensation between her thighs was now a raging five-alarm blaze. Her cunt was desperately craving some tender loving care, yet its owner was determined to show some degree of restraint. It had been a while since she had last gotten laid, certainly longer than she was accustomed to, but she refused to give Dorian that perception; to do anything else would effectively put her at his mercy. Then she felt his hand rubbing the top of her right thigh. The son of a bitch was teasing her now, and the steaming pressure cooker that her snatch had become forced her legs apart. The heating unit was still running and as good as Janelle felt as the warm air blew gently over her genitals, it was not the good feeling that she wanted or, perhaps more importantly needed now. Fortunately, she need not have worried, because the man lying next to her was an expert at picking up hints.

Dorian had known exactly what he was doing when he put his hand on Janelle's thigh: he wanted her to be the one to open the door as opposed to him. Having accomplished that, he ran his hand along the inside of her leg and zoned in on her now exposed muff. He could feel her heat as he neared her sex, and when he reached the point where her leg ended, Janelle let out a long sigh, as in expectation of what was to come next. Dorian smirked in the darkness. You're not getting off that easily, he thought to himself. He began massaging her groin, which caused her to buck and groan wildly, He kissed her and whispered softly in her ear, "You like that, huh?" The mere sound of his low, sexy voice caused her to melt even more, but all she could manage was a nod of her head. Dorian smiled. He enjoyed this type of cruelty with his lovers: holding them on the brink of insanity until they took matters into their own hands. That was always a huge turn-on, because the two qualities that mattered most to Dorian were a) a woman's knowledge of what she wanted; and b) the will to get it. Having now finished torturing his bedmate, he cupped his hand flat against her mound and began to squeeze. Almost immediately, Janelle slammed her legs shut and turned her body toward his, grinding furiously against his hand. The two locked into a passionate embrace, Janelle now having taken Dorian's swollen member in her hand and jerking it vigorously, while Dorian had managed to part her lips and plunged a finger into her slit. The feeling was overwhelming for a moment; she was hot, wet, and of the perfect tightness: tight enough to get a decent grip on his finger, but not so tight as to prevent him from moving it. And that was a good thing, because moving his finger was the only thing on Dorian's mind right now. He flicked his finger rapidly up and down, making sure to touch her cervix on occasion. Janelle let out a long, loud series of moans as her pussy was slammed by a multitude of short but brutal orgasms, one right after the other. Dorian could feel her walls collapsing around his finger, and her box was now leaking fluid into his palm. He tried to keep track of how many orgasms she was having, but eventually gave it up as a lost cause. Not that it truly mattered; he was satisfied at the fact that she was satisfied. And judging by the limpness that had taken over her body and the glassy look in her eyes, Dorian could tell she was satisfied indeed.