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Sherri spotted him in the receiving line. There he was, standing out like an African Adonis. He was moving slowly towards her. Sherri held her breath. She had to meet him! “Sherri! Sherri! I’m talking to you.” Sherri’s mind snapped out of her dreamy fog. It was her sister, Veronica. It was her wedding. In fact, it was Veronica’s third wedding. “I need you to find papa. I can’t find him,” Veronica said. “I’ll check on him!” Sherri said. She knew where he would be. She found him in his study with three men. They didn’t look like wedding guests. They were wearing black pin-striped suits and white-on-white ties. With papa, it was always business first, she thought. “Excuse me, Papa. Veronica needs you,” Sherri said, as respectfully as she could. He nodded. Sherri hurried back to Veronica’s wedding reception. A matronly woman stopped Sherri in the hallway. “Pardon me, is this not Veronica’s fourth wedding?” she asked. “Actually, her first was annulled. It doesn’t count,” Sherri said, smiling. “Oh, that’s right!” the woman said. Sherri hurried back to the reception. She was right! Sherry thought. The talk seems to be, ‘Why was Veronica wearing white on her third or fourth wedding?’ The simple answer was that Veronica has no shame! Sherri thought. Sherri found Veronica eating a slice of wedding cake. Oh no!Veronica is going to put back on all of those thirty pounds she lost before she found Aldo, Sherri thought to herself. “Papa is in the office, talking. He’s coming,” Sherri said, and added in a sing-song voice, “You have cake on your chin.” Veronica frowned and wiped it away. Sherri looked around; she spotted him on the other side of the pool. He looked in his early thirties. He was taller than anyone in her Italian family. Sherri guessed he was six-foot-four, and he was trim and fit. He was wearing a neatly tailored black brocade African-style robe that flowed down to his black patent-leather shoes. He was clean shaven, and had a sexy Obama-style haircut. “Are you with the groom?” Sherri asked. “No, actually, the groom is with the bride. I’m just here as a friend,” he said, smiling. “Pardon me. I’m joking of course. I am an old college chum of his, my name is James,” he said. “I’m the bride’s sister, Sherri.” “Yes, I spotted you in the reception line. Then you were gone.” Sherri laughed. “It’s a long story.” She opened her purse and pulled out a blunt and placed it in her lips. He offered her a light. She lightly touched his hand, and looked into his eyes as she set her blunt aflame. She took a deep toke and exhaled slowly. “Do you think this will work out? Oh, I shouldn’t ask that question.” He looked embarrassed. “Don’t be embarrassed! The simple answer is: Does he have money?” Sherri laughed. She took another toke and slowly exhaled. James laughed. “A woman cannot be too rich or too thin. Isn’t that what they say?” “There are other factors.” “I can only imagine.” Sherri made a side step to put her body between the guests and James. She reached down and felt his manhood through his robe, and it started growing. “Some things shouldn’t be left to the imagination,” Sherri said, looking into his eyes. “I would love to discuss reality with you sometime,” James said, smiling. Sherri released his now fully erect member. She offered him the blunt, and he took it and pulled in a deep toke. She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card and handed it to James. He looked at it. It read simply; “Sherri A.” Her cell number was below. “I’ll call you,” he whispered. *** Sherri got into the car with her husband, Stewart, who was fifty-five. He was thick in the middle and balding on the top. He pulled out into the street and settled down to driving home. “Why are you so sullen?” Sherri asked. It was an accusation. She knew that her accusations always made him angry. “I saw you talking to that… that man by the pool! You were throwing yourself at him!” Stew said. “Settle down! You are always so jealous. He’s an old business associate of papa’s. Do you want me to tell papa you disapprove of his business associates?” Sherri knew how to get to Stew. He had no money. Papa had set him up gaziantep escort in business, and had to rein him in once before. Sherri knew it. “There is no need to bring papa into this,” Stew said; suddenly, his voice was different. Sherri had all the money. If she threw him out, he would be practically penniless. “Let’s talk about something different. Don’t you think Veronica looked ravishing in white?” Sherri said. She was teasing him. *** Sherri walked out on the patio and adjusted a chaise lounge into the sunlight. She was going to get some morning rays. She sat down and spread her long, shapely legs on the lounge. She was thirty-nine, and the mother of two grown children. Her body was fit, her hair was dark brown, and her hazel eyes were wide-set on her narrow face. Sherri placed a blunt to her full red lips and lit it. She took a deep toke and held it awhile before releasing it through her nose. She checked her cell phone. Why hasn’t he called? she thought, and added, Maybe I came on too strong. She dismissed the notion and put her cell phone down. The phone rang. It was Veronica. “Hi!” Sherri said. “Hi, I’m on the way to Jamaica!” Veronica said excitedly. “Great! Are you having fun?” “Yes! Listen, I met this gorgeous hunk in the ship’s lounge.” “Already playing the field? Veronica!” “I keep my options open. We went back to his cabin and had some fun, if you know what I mean.” “What about Aldo? How did you get rid of him?” Veronica had a sudden vision of Aldo being pushed overboard. Her mind watched Aldo splashing around as he was receding in the distance. “He got seasick. He hasn’t been out of bed,” she laughed. Sherri laughed. “Just to make sure he doesn’t suddenly get over it, I slipped him a sedative.” Veronica laughed again. “I’ve got to go. Call you later!” Sherri put the phone down and picked up the latest issue of Vogue and started turning the pages. The phone rang again. “Hello?” “Hi. This is James…” *** Sherri looked in the mirror and put the lipstick to her lips. She wanted her lips to be bright red. She wanted her eyes to be accented with mascara, and a little bit of blush on her cheeks. She slipped on a pair of stylish lacy-top hose, a thong, and a camisole not unlike those displayed in Vogue. Lastly, she put on a short miniskirt and a top that accentuated her 34DD’s. She slipped into a pair of red patent leather pumps with micro stiletto heels. Lastly, she parted her hair and brushed it back so that it hung down off of her shoulders. She got into her red SL-Class Mercedes and lowered the top. It was a forty-five minute drive to the location that James had selected. It was a café in a business district. James met her outside and escorted her to a patio, then gave her a kiss before holding the chair for her. “Glad you could make it,” James said, smiling. He was dressed in a long flowing robe. It was tie-dyed blue and white, and was semi-transparent. She got glimpses of his loose pants under his robe. The front panel was gold with embroidery around the edges. The embroidery design circled his neck, and the cuffs of his sleeves and trousers. He wore a similarly colored hat with gold embroidery around the base. “Oh yes! I am too. This is very nice. Do you live nearby?” Sherri asked. She sat down and displayed her shapely legs for him while he sat down. “Yes. I live in an apartment on the fourteenth floor. The waiter came and James ordered red wine. “The wedding was nice,” he said. Sherri laughed. “It was more like a meltdown, you mean,” she laughed again. “I thought the repartee by the pool was very interesting. It’s been on my mind,” he said smiling. Sherri’s ruby red lips touched the glass. Her eyes looked over the rim at him before sipping the wine. “I captured an image of something I wanted to explore further,” Sherri said, without changing the expression on her face. They finished their wine, and James got up and took her hand. Together they got on the elevator. They stepped off on his floor and walked to his two-level condo, which was decorated in African art and nude women. The women were in all stages of undress, and engaging in sexual activities with African chieftains. On the floor and the walls were more erotic objets d’art such as giant phalluses and women’s busts. James switched on a streaming video player. A 120-inch high-definition TV screen came alive with images of a tall African male and a classy blonde woman in a sensual modern dance to the rhythm of drums. James brought her a drink in a metallic gray goblet. It was darker than any wine she had ever seen. “What is it?” Sherri asked, looking at the screen. “It’s a temple for preparing prostitutes for servitude.” “Do they come willingly?” Sherri asked, smiling. “Yes! They must willingly submit.” “You mean they have a choice?” “Of course. No one is forced.” “This sounds interesting…” Sherri moved closer to James and raised her chin to him. He reciprocated by surrounding her with his arms and placing his lips over her sensual, red mouth. She opened her mouth, and he responded by pushing his tongue inside. Sherri wanted to give him the message that she was willing. James broke the kiss. “What’s in the goblet?” Sherri asked “It’s a special ceremonial potion used to prepare temple prostitutes for servitude,” James said, looking into her eyes. “It is derived from blood, wine, and some roots ….” His words trailed off as if there were other ingredients that he did not want to speak. She put the goblet to her lips. The bouquet was wine. She let the liquid touch her lips. She let it flow through her lips to her tongue. It was perfectly chilled and tasted like red wine. She took a small sip. “… and then the novice candidate for temple prostitute is led to the first station. Take another sip and follow me,” James said. He motioned for Sherri to follow. They stood before the mask-head of a temple priest-god. “She takes another sip of the potion,” James said, “and then she proceeds on to the next station.” Sherri suddenly wanted to obey his descriptions as if they were commands. Again she put the goblet to her lips and sipped. “Then she is adorned with the headdress of servitude,” he said, as he placed the headdress of bones and beads on her head. “Then she moves to the final station,” James said. His voice was deep and almost imperceptible. It was a six-foot high erect phallus with the testes resting on the rough-hewn wooden floor. A honey-like liquid began to ooze from a hole in the tip. “She tastes the liquid on the phallic-god and takes a sip from the goblet.” James whispered. Sherri was strangely compelled to obey. She touched her tongue to the golden-honey fluid on the phallus tip. It was bitter. Then she took a larger sip from her goblet to wash away the bitter taste. James moved closer to her ear. “Taste it again,” he whispered. Sherri put her tongue on the honey-like ooze. It was not as bitter as before. “Take another sip,” he whispered. Sherry again put the goblet to her lips and sipped the potion. She was beginning to feel strange. Her peripheral vision was distorted and out of focus. She took another sip from the goblet. “Place the goblet on the table,” he whispered. Sherri turned to look around the room. When she turned back to James, she saw a black man in a hideous multi-colored tribal mask. It was James, who surrounded her with his arms and body. Their lips met, her mouth open to receive his lips and tongue. Their juices mingled. She trembled as his hands roamed over her body at will. She gasped when he slipped her top over her shoulder and let it fall down. Sherri unbuckled his belt and slipped his zipper down. James unzipped her skirt in the back and let it drop to the floor. He gave a kick to rid his feet of his sandals and pants. Sherri unbuttoned his robe, and reached her hands inside to touch his skin. James reached around her body to unhook her bra, letting it drop. His hand found her smooth, slick vagina. His finger dipped into her love canal, which was hot and wet like molten lava. He used the wetness to lubricate her clitoris. Her tiny hand surrounded his phallus and gently squeezed. His manhood responded by growing in her hand. Knowing that she had a sensual effect on this man, Sherri began to tremble. James laid her on the wide circular sofa. Her svelte body contrasted with the black leather. “Are you the African god who has come to possess me?” Sherri said, teasingly. “Yes!” James said; he was serious, Sherri thought. “Then will you hang me on your wall as a trophy?” “Yes, but you must complete the ritual.” “I will satisfy my African god.” “Will you kneel before me?” “Yes!” “Will you obey my every command?” “Yes!” James lay back. His enormous phallus was standing erect, a large drop of clear semen glistening in the light like a jewel atop an idol. “Be my fellatrix. If you please me, I will allow you to be in my harem,” James whispered. It was surreal. “Oh yes, Master!” Sherri said. She put her little hand around the shaman-lover’s black serpent. She pushed back the foreskin and exposed the one-eyed demon-snake ready to spit hot, sensual semen-venom. “Suck it!” It was a command. Sherri suddenly felt like an innocent temple virgin. Will one taste change my world? she thought. Her mouth covered his cock head. She was producing an enormous amount of saliva which ran down his shaft and covered her hand. Her tongue traced the underside of his cock from the hilt to the tip. Her cheeks sank in as she pulled out and sucked. “Ohhh!” James moaned. Sensing James’ pleasure only heightened Sherri’s pleasure. She was deriving pleasure from giving pleasure. She felt James’ hand push her off. He pushed her back, spread her legs, and lay in her saddle. She felt like an unholy receptacle ready for the evil snake to enter her being and purify her forever. James positioned his cock at her nether lips. Her vulva was swollen and red, and her labia were extremely sensitive. Her clitoris was extended and erect. It was like a dream, or an illusion. Is this real? she thought. She imagined that he positioned his magical rod against her clitoris and rubbed gently. “Oh!” Sherri moaned. James worked his magic member against her clit-head. His profuse pre-cum was providing more than enough lubrication. “Oh, James please make love to me. Make me your slave!” Sherri moaned. “Take it, and guide me in!” It was a command. Sherri took his magical morphing serpent and aimed it at the soul of her pleasure. James pushed, and both felt Sherri’s vagina release. Sherri moaned as the torrid tool penetrated the depths of her pleasure pit. He began a rhythm which Sherri sensually mimicked with the thrusts of her pelvis. Their tempo became faster and faster. She felt it rising out of her clitoris. Like a vortex with her clitoris in the center. Swirling… spinning… like a whirlwind. Higher and higher she ascended. Her vagina was like liquid fire. Her mind suddenly snapped back to reality. James’s cock was exploding inside of her. She imagined hot, steaming lava! “Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!” Sherri screamed, her vagina contracting. James moaned. Slowly her fire cooled from white to red hot. His cock remained stiff inside of her. Sherri felt pleased. Pleasure is giving pleasure, she thought. Her only thought now was to give James pleasure, with no assurance that he would reciprocate. James pulled out of her and stood up, then reached for a blunt and lit it. He took a deep toke and exhaled slowly. Sherri closed her eyes. “Get up and clean my cock!” It was a demand which Sherri was eager to obey. She got on her knees and placed his slick, slimy cock head in her mouth. The taste was a sensual mixture of semi-sweet cum and raw female cunt. The memory of this moment and taste of the sex was to be seared into her mind for a lifetime. “Get dressed, and fix your makeup too.” James demanded. Sherri obediently dressed and fixed her makeup. She started to comb her hair. “Comb your hair straight back!” She combed it straight back, but it looked a mess. James took a long, gray linen cloth from one of his art displays. He wrapped it around her head and over the lower portion of her face. Only her eyes were uncovered. James led her out. They got on the elevator and got off in the parking garage. He walked up to his gunmetal gray Mercedes and stopped. “Open my door,” he commanded. “What?” Sherri said. “You are my slave. Open the door for your master.” Sherri obeyed. James sat down, and she closed his door and walked around and got in the car. It seemed so natural.
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