The Punany Experience
Dear Reader:
Jessica Holter has mesmerized audiences for over a decade with her live performances exploring sensuality and sexuality—two totally different things—through poetic word and physical expression. She is undoubtedly a prolific poet. In The Punany Experience, she shows the world how prolific she is as an author.
Korea and Stormy had traumatic childhoods, like so many women, and end up becoming involved later on in life. But their relationship—their love—is not an easy journey. Both have different needs and desires, and both have a lot of emotional baggage and scars inflicted on them by men. They want the American dream; a nice home, financial freedom, and true love. They have it, for a period of time but soon realize that it is not enough. That is the amazing thing about life. Once we achieve everything that we have ever wanted, we begin to yearn for something different. Why? Because all of the challenges and hurdles have been overcome. That is human nature.
The Punany Experience is engaging, sensual, suspenseful, and a real eye-opener. This book is for anyone who wants to learn more about how people think, how they love, and how they cope. It is possible to beat the odds, to repair damage, and find what it is that you truly seek. Once Hartford enters the lives of Korea and Stormy, everything changes. Hartford is a complicated man, with unusual desires that his wife cannot fulfill. That is when “the war between tops and bottoms” begins.
Thank you for giving this book a chance. I am sure that you will enjoy it. Thank you for reading the books published by all of my Strebor authors. I try my best to bring you out-of-the-box titles that you will not find at other publishers. I have always been a risk-taker and believe that every good story has an audience. You can visit me online at Eroticanoir.com or join my online social network at PlanetZane.org.
Blessings,
Publisher
Strebor Books
www.simonandschuster.com/streborbooks
ALSO BY JESSICA HOLTER
Verbal Penetration
Strebor Books
P.O. Box 6505
Largo, MD 20792
http://www.streborbooks.com
www.SimonandSchuster.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2010 by Jessica Holter
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address Strebor Books, P.O. Box 6505, Largo, MD 20792.
ISBN 978-1-59309-145-3
LCCN 2010925103
eISBN 978-1-4165-5330-4
First Strebor Books trade paperback edition July 2010
Cover design: www.mariondesigns.com
Cover photograph: © Keith Saunders/Marion Designs
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Manufactured in the United States of America
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To Patience
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank God for keeping me alive through it all.
To my patient and loving son, KLH, for being my motivation to improve myself.
To Zane and Charmaine, for accepting, editing and publishing this book; to Shay, for being a confidante and a friend throughout this writing process; even though you don’t even know me. To Artisha “Mack” McCullough, for waking the sleeping lover in me, so I could write and be about sex again. To Olaywa and Porsha, for listening. To Lisa Blackwell, Jeannie Arnold, Terenda and Jack, Julie and Todd, for giving me a home when I had none, and for taking care of me when I was sick, hurting, or traveling; to Britteni (Honey T) Taylor and all of The Punany Poets; to Denyse Ford and all of her ladies who give love to Ghetto Girl Blue—thank you for feeding me; to Dwayne, Yulonda, and Sven, for the game. Special thanks to Ms. Sonni Collins and Terenda Goodwin for taking the time to read and edit this book. But, especially, to all of THE FANS who have truly given me a Punany Experience.
INTRODUCTION
When I was asked to present a second book to Zane, I pondered over how to deliver a novel the fans of the Strebor authors would appreciate. I decided to base this book, The Punany Experience, on a poem from my first book, Zane Presents The Punany Poets’ Verbal Penetration. Far from the average down low discussion, The War Between Tops and Bottoms, a story-poem about two lesbians in a sexual battle with one another and a married man, shocked audiences when it was first presented in live form by the talented actress and AIDS activist, LOVE the poet. This poem initiated discussions during my Punany-branded cabaret shows about the power of the prostate, and began conversations about what is “gay” and what is “straight.” The Punany Experience is a provocative excursion into a world where the lines of sexual identification are seductively rubbed away to reveal the unobstructed truth; that orientation is simply the process of becoming accustomed to something that is new to you.
So, with no further ado, I present to some, and introduce to others…
THE WAR BETWEEN TOPS & BOTTOMS
Late.
her hips pressed
against my ass
Hot.
because he was watching
It’s like that?
It could be.
but what she
really wants to do
is fuck a man in the ass
Like that?
Yep.
She’s never done it before. I lied, not knowing it yet.
Forty-five minutes and a bridge ride later
my phone rang…
“Booty Call,
Booty Call,
Booty Call!”
I wondered if I could download that ring
and set it for the men
who phone disrespectfully
after 10 o’clock pm
It was 2:15 in the morning
“Is it cool?
I’m on my way to your pad.”
I looked at my woman
as if to ask permission
She returned a sly glance as if to say,
“Bring it on!”
Five minutes inside
he was just parking
but she was already
showered and strapped
I had seen her that way many times
her plump ass squeezed between three black leather straps
holding in place a 9-inch dick
I had handpicked from Good Vibrations
to match the John Henry hunk of the man
I used to call my husband
and bulged with human vein-like texture
I had a special relationship to this dick
It was mine
and I was particular about it.
to me, it was as real as any dick,
as in relationships
it would only stray if I got careless and lost it
or as in tonight, chose to give it away.
It was huge next to her small body
but trust,
she wore it and used it like she had grown it
She was soft butch, bisexual by admission
and beautiful by even Hollywood standards
If she were an ice cream she’d be a Creole Mocha Blend
A tiny package, she was full of surprises
Hairs on her chin
Egotistical and a Taurus
even her cum smelled like a man’s
Yet her breasts were nearly as large as mine
and I was busting provocatively out of a double D
I’d lie if I said living this life
didn’t bring thoughts of
Jerry Springer to my mind from time to time
I giggled like the child I felt like,
Anticipating…
Nowhere to hide
She made a cup of coffee
sipped it wearing nothing
but the dick and strap
I blushed
abandoned her to the shower
doorbell rings
I scrubbed and tried to wash off the vodka
so I could know that this was really happening
Now let me get this straight…
rinsing my cigarette breath again
spitting water
My former lover
Is coming over
to let my lesbian lover
fuck him in the ass
I shook my head a couple times
but the thought was still there
My heart would not stop racing
it wasn’t sexual excitement
I was pretty sure of that
It felt more like the nerves that flutter about your stomach
when you know you have done wrong and your momma has found out
but you haven’t made it home yet
and your sister is running toward you
shouting
ooooh, you gonna get it!
Accepting the inevitable
you can only hope she falls.
I had known him for as long as I had known my own sexual being
I was a virgin when we met
He introduced me to the freak in me
and has kept her skills on point for nearly twenty years
but never this way
Damn!
My momma told me he was gay!
I was thinking this when he stepped into the shower
He washed my body
kissed me everywhere
just like he used to
and did that thing he does with his thumbs
massaging my inner thighs down to the bone
gently stretching my pussy with circular motions
until I had the urge to press down
and give birth to another level of
our homie-lover-friendship
I was melting in the heat
I cooled the water down
Kissed the softest lips I have ever known
and said goodbye to love making as I had known it with him
My momma
would have stopped us dead in our tracks
because there are some things you just don’t hang out to dry
What was going down tonight
was definitely going to leave some dirty laundry
She made it easy to get started
She didn’t believe in awkward moments
He stepped out of the shower
She pushed me into him
He held me tight
lit a joint, passed it around
The kissing commenced quickly
I couldn’t suck her pussy with the strap on
and her legs so tight, like they always are for me
so I sucked her dick
then his
He ate my pussy
then tongue kissed her ass
She ate my pussy then tongue kissed him
then put her tongue to his rim
for a very long time
he wanted to enter her
she wasn’t having it
I stepped out of the room to grab two rubbers
while they decided who’s on top
and what’s on second
I don’t know,
third base came so quickly
I didn’t have time to think
I sat back and took a lesson in testosterone
waiting just a few moments to see if
he would give the ass up right away
A few more of her famous tongue lashings
inside and outside of his asshole
she was going to be in there
I couldn’t bear to watch him go out like that
I wanted to know, but I couldn’t watch
So I did what any woman
in denial about the sexual preference
of a man she’s loved since childhood would do…
I slipped my body under his shoving hips into his
I spread my legs
Spread them wide
opened my pussy up in the candlelight
Wet my finger
slapped my clit
pushed two fingers in and out of myself
testing the waters with my own tongue
and
attempted to flood the room
with the intoxicating pheromones
of my good pussy
but all I could smell was ass
as she dug into him
with such aggression,
her force urged him deeper inside of me.
Part of me hoped for a fast win in this
war between tops and bottoms
for the sake of my health
Cuz this was 2004
and I had been fucking a man who
desired a dick in his ass
for nearly half of my life
The other parts of me were
extremely turned on
extremely jealous
and angry
over how I had been a sexual fool
seeing all the signs, heeding no warning
What was more, I hadn’t even been giving him,
what he was really looking for
My body grew hotter
as he kissed me and briefly remembered me
calling my name
I drew my pussy like an M16
and fired into the dark
He spread my thighs wider
Fucked me with his tongue
Sucking my fat pussy lips
on the up stroke
a couple feet away I could hear her tongue
lathering up his ass
His hips began to roll
Pow! She slapped it with a magical sting
and raised the ass high into the air
with the power possessed in her fingertips
My man was now my woman’s bitch
And the 9-inch dick I had picked
from a little Berkeley sex boutique,
that reminded me of my husband,
and gave to my lesbian lover
to fuck me with,
was in my soul mate’s ass
deeply, in his ass
“Stop.”
he pronounced
candy in my ears
She withdrew
He caught his breath
Then whispered
“Tell her to put it back in.”
My pussy got numb.
He continued to fuck me, I think.
Mostly, she fucked him
She fucked him, and busted so many times
before they finally came together
Their unified moans and grunts
were like a song, a dirty rap song
I added some curse words and moans
of my own but my pussy was only wet
with her juices
as they shot on his ass and thighs
and dripped down to tease me.
But he still wanted to enter her
in four years, I hadn’t even put a finger inside of her
she almost didn’t lay down for that
gave it the political lesbian try
before her legs were spread so far apart
I didn’t recognize her or her porn star vocabulary
The pair weren’t fighting anymore
“Thank you, thank you, thank you”
he repeated emphatically
over and over as he dressed
He really meant that shit.
I had two G’s in my bed
giving me the kind of truth
you don’t even get in church
I had no reason to be mad
I set the whole thing up
I had asked for a pass to a game that was not for suckers
He wanted something that I wasn’t willing to give
and now that I know this
I can choose not to put myself at risk
I wasn’t mad anymore.
because I was no longer a fool,
just maybe a little grossed out.
I mean, except for the fact that
the entire room smelled like ass
It might have even been cool.
But the thought of where his ass goes
on nights he can’t find a woman
so willing to engage in anal play
was a little bit scary
It was 4:15 when he went home to his wife
I drank my girl’s cold coffee
Sat down at my computer and ordered
a new dick online
—T. CALLOWAY
CHAPTER 1: THE VIRGIN FILES:
STORMY IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD
He wasn’t like any of the other men in the church. He did not dress like a deacon. He did not speak like a saint, but Brother Marcel Samuels could sing like a Temptation. He was nineteen years old, suave, and confident. He was a regular guy from the neighborhood, like the ones with Jheri curls, and puff coats that hung in front of the Dolomite Liquor store where Stormy Talbert shopped for candy after Sunday school; the store with the spinning rack of pantyhose and stockings that got her in all that trouble one day. Brother Samuels had all of the traits that made people stand out in the Oakland, California neighborhood—light skin, good hair, green eyes, and savoir-faire. He could have been a pimp, a player, or a gigolo but instead, he was newly saved, baptized, and filled with the Holy Ghost, making every Sunday feel like Motown as his long, neatly manicured fingers danced across the ivory keys with the Midas touch.
“This young man can spin gospel into gold,” Pastor told the church on the day he appointed him Minister of Music at Faithful Baptist Church. Pastor and the entire church body hoped young Marcel would lead them to gospel stardom in a land that had been dominated by the Hawkins family for years. The truth was, most folks knew little to nothing about him. He was a pied piper from the projects, who had increased church membership by nearly thirty percent in a few months, with his silky voice and golden touch. Pastor never even asked him if he wanted to be baptized. He offered him a salary and dipped him for political posture in the pool beneath the movable floor of the choir stand. He fought a bit as Pastor and a deacon pushed him under, a washcloth over his mouth, a hand on his hands, which were folded over his chest, as he went down into the water.