sated: a brooks brothers short

A few things:

• Patreon saw this first. I tasked my patrons to provide prompts using a specific set of parameters & I wrote shorts based on ‘em.

• if you haven’t read Hunger, you should prolly skip this

• If you’re not a fan of short stories, you should prolly skip this.

Now that that’s out of the way, enjoy!

Troi

I could not believe that we’d let Lenita talk us into taking this damned trip with her for her birthday. How six Black women had ended up vacationing in New Mexico was well beyond me at this point. We hadn’t done one of these big girls trip vacations since most of us had turned thirty a few years back and we’d let the nostalgia of just how much fun we typically had together no matter where we were color the fact that nobody beyond the birthday girl had a shred of interest in any of the activities and excursions that she’d planned for us.

Well, wait…let me not lie, I was very much interested in the sunrise hot air balloon ride that we’d be embarking on tomorrow morning. I was wholly disinterested, however,  in this self-guided tour of the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe that we were on at the moment, though.

“Troi,” my friend Safiyya whispered as she sidled up alongside me. “Is it just me or are these paintings looking a little…”

She and I were the only two left here at the museum while the rest of the crew had gone on a little excursion that took them out to Georgia O’Keeffe’s residence when she’d lived out in these desert streets. Neither of us cared for another ride of over an hour when we’d already driven about ninety minutes to get here from Santa Fe. So we’d decided to just hang out at the museum and await their return, but honestly? I was ready to beat this joint and go check out one of the local dispensaries. I always liked to keep an eye on what others in the industry had going on, even though my job wasn’t really involved with that part of our business. Plus, I’d damn near run through my little stash of gummies I’d brought with me since I’d decided to be hospitable and share with the other girls who were interested in partaking. I was lamenting the fact of having not brought any flower along.

I looked over at Saf expectantly, waiting for her to continue her sentence, but she just lifted her brows in a suggestive manner and said nothing more.

“Color me slow on the uptake today, Saf, but I’m not picking up what you’re putting down today, babe. You gotta state it plainly.”

Safiyya’s lips curled into a sly grin and I knew I’d just set myself up for some bullshit.

“Nita brought us to a museum full of pussy!” she said with a devious chuckle. “Are we supposed to be getting some hint from this or something? I mean I knew statistically there had to be at least one more of y’all on my team and honestly, I’d pegged Shea as the scissor sister adjacent one. Gotta get my gaydar checked coz Nita didn’t even ping!”

I let out a sharp crack of laughter before shaking my head at Saffiya before replying, “I’m pretty certain that Nita, of all people, would have been told us if she was bi or lesbian, fool! Have you forgotten that we know damn near every detail of every nigga she’s fucked since 2008???”

Saf nodded slowly like she was considering my point, then fervently shook her head. “Nah, it’s way too many pussies on these walls for this to be coincidental.”

“They’re flowers, Safiyyah,” I replied, with a chuckle.

“Tomato, tomahto, let’s agree to disagree,” she shot back with a shrug.

“Well babe, not all of us consistently have pussy on the brain so…I mean…”

“Woooooow, so that’s what we’re on now, Troi?” Saf said, rolling her eyes at me. “C’mon, you don’t see it?”

She pointed to the picture in front of where we were currently standing. I cocked my head from side to side, trying valiantly to see what she was seeing, but falling short.

“Sorry, boo! My pussy doesn't look anything like…” I trailed off and squinted to see the plaque alongside the painting with its name. “...oriental peonies.”

“All right, maybe not this one, but how about that one over there…”

I followed her pointed finger to a painting that was just about six feet away from where we were standing and…shit, Saf might have been onto something. I couldn’t see its name because the writing on the plaque was too tiny for me to decipher, but the soft yellow flower with its folds delicately draping against one another and a distinctly prominent bunching of petals near the top that vaguely resembled a woman’s love button was definitely giving vagina monologue. And as my eyes flitted from that one to the next few paintings in succession, each growing more and more vaginaesque to my viewing, I turned back to a smug looking Saf.

“Mmmmhmmm, you see it now right, pussy as far as the eye can see. Damn, I wish Linnea had come on this trip, this muhfuckin’ gallery got me feeling a way now,” she said with a low moan.

“Ugh, Saf really? Can you not?”

“Whateva heffa. Lemme go FaceTime my love and see if she’ll show me a titty or something to tide me over.”

I expelled a sharp bark of laughter that caused the few folks that were in the space with us to turn in my direction. I turned to scold Saf for bringing attention in our direction, but her ass had already gotten ghost on me. I should have known she was serious about FaceTiming Linnea. Hell those two rarely did anything without the other and I was lowkey surprised that Saf hadn’t pushed the issue and made Nita invite her along. The only rule that we’d had with our girls trips was that no one was to bring a significant other—even if said significant other was a woman.

Ironically enough, it’d been enacted when one of our other LS called herself convincing a dude she was fucking to plan a trip with his guy friends to New Orleans when we were going for Essence Fest so she could have the option to dip out on us for dick. He fell for it after she had him fooled thinking that the rest of us would be gang to entertain his ragtag group of friends who looked straight outta the gutter. And I didn’t meant that as a pejorative for being from the hood, but that them niggas—including the one that Nicki called herself obsessed with—legit came off like they’d just crawled out of hiding with Leonard, Donatello, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Master Splinter.

I wasn’t mad at Saf for missing her wife though, lord knows I could relate to that. This little birthday trip was hella inconvenient timing in my life since right before it, I’d been on a trip away from home, overseeing the construction of a new dispensary for my company. What was meant to just be a few days turned into me spending over a week in a different city so the few days I’d planned on being face down ass up with my fiancé were interrupted. And when I’d gotten back home, he wasn’t there because he had a fitness conference that he was attending in Durham. Considering that when we were in the same space, we tended to me all up under one another as our schedules permitted, having gone nearly two weeks without any one-on-one time with my man had me feeling a way.

And Tyse knew it too with his little thirst traps and suggestive innuendo comments in every conversation that we’d had in our time apart. Any time I’d tried to shift our innocent convos into naughtier territory, he diverted our course.

“Save it, mama,” he urged me just last night. “And when you get back, you might as well call in some PTO because I’ma be tearing that ass up.”

And because he had my ass wrapped around his thick ass fingers, I’d done exactly that.

Until I was four Casamigos-based beverages deep, immensely horny, and in need of release before I completely exploded. So I’d dipped off from the girls and made my way up to my room on a mission, locking the door behind me. I’d showered and changed into lounge clothes after we’d returned from our Santa Fe excursion and we were supposed to be keeping it lowkey tonight since we had to be up before daybreak for our hot air balloon-ride, but one thing had led to another and I found myself in the current circumstance. Clumsily toppling onto the bed, I FaceTimed Tyse, each ring that passed seeming like it took an eternity, only for him to not even answer.

I gritted out a frustrated groan before I made the executive decision to just get myself off to relieve some of the tension that had my body taut. Since he knew me like the back of his hand, I was certain that Tyson would immediately be able to tell that I hadn’t held out until we were back together and honestly, just the thought of whatever “punishment” would come after he realized had me clenching my thighs together tightly. I didn’t even bother with any external stimulation, letting my imagination lead the way as my hands slid one strap, then the other of the tank I’d paired with leggings to sleep in. I’d just begun to pull it over my head when my phone suddenly sounded off. Flinching like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar, I righted my shirt and picked up my discarded phone immediately, swiping to connect the call.

“Hey honey,” I crooned as soon as the call connected and his handsome face was splayed across my screen.

He’d let the facial hair that he typically kept low, grow out a bit, and the scruff was giving him an even more rugged than usual look. I bit down on my lip to suppress the wanton moan that threatened to bubble up from my throat at just the sight of him.

Damn I had it bad.

“What’s good with you, love?” he asked before squinting into the camera and taking full stock of my appearance. “What have you been up to?”

I could tell from his tone he’d known exactly what I’d been trying to get up to before I answered his call, but I tried playing it off anyway.

“Oh, just laid down after having one too many,” I replied breezily, “Wanted your handsome face to be the last thing I saw before I drifted off.”

Tyson smirked. “Are you sure about that?”

“Y-yeah,” I stammered, shifting my position in the bed a bit.

“Your head is in the arm hole and one of your titties is damn near hanging out, babe. I think you were doing a little bit more than drifting off. What’s up with that? I thought you were saving it for when you got home.”

“I can’t hold out any longer,” I whined, not even attempting to fix my clothing.

Tyson’s only response was a low rumble of laughter that went directly to my sweet spot. My chest heaved and clit thumped as we stared at one another wordlessly.

“You gonna make me beg for it?” I whispered after the silence dragged for a little bit past my comfort.

Shaking his head, Tyson replied, “And here I thought we’d finally gotten your willpower up to par. Guess you need more training.”

That one word emitted from his lips instantly sent a shiver up my spine. My mind was instantly transported to the very first time he’d initiated a new element into our lovemaking a few months back. Minutes passing that felt like hours, three scarves, and a nearly unbearable amount of teasing by way of Tyson’s hands, mouth, and dick had come together in unison to make me lose my entire mind in ecstasy when he’d finally allowed me to give into the orgasm that he had been prematurely truncating until he’d finally allowed me to be fully pushed off the cliff of desire in a drenched, babbling lump of woman. His earlier directive of “saving it” for him was pushing the limit and he knew it considering that being brought to or bringing myself to orgasm was one of my tried and true methods of relaxation.

“Tyse, please…” I groaned, already knowing that despite things eventually going my way, it’d take a little bit for me to get the happy ending I so desperately sought.

“You got something you can use to hold up your phone?” he asked, ignoring my plea.

I nodded before jerryrigging my phone against the lamp on the nightstand and repositioning myself so that I was fully in Tyson’s view. I sat with my legs folded beneath me, butt touching the soles of my feet and hands resting atop my thighs, assuming the position I knew he’d have me start in. A few beats of silence passed before a sinister grin spread across Tyse’s face as he directed me to play with my nipples through the thin fabric of the tank I wore. At the first brush of my thumbs against them, my nipples beaded instantly and I let out a low moan at the first feel of the simmering cinders of sensual awareness building in my core.

“All you had was one more day before you got home, mama. You couldn’t even wait that long huh,” Tyson crooned, the sound of his voice instantly increasing the speed of my movements. “Uh uh…nice and slow circles, baby. You know the drill.”

I groaned hard in frustration, but just nodded my head and acquiesced to his directive to continue to circle each nipple with a thumb.

“You mad baby?” he asked in a teasing lilt.

Since the only sounds I emitted were the increased intake of air from my breathing and my face was screwed up into a scowl, he knew exactly what the answer was to that question. With a chuckle, he sat back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. His shift in position brought my eyes directly to his lap where I could see the outline of his dick coming to life in the thin shorts he wore. Unconsciously I licked my lips and Tyson laughed once again.

“Now if you’d held out, instead of having to recollect exactly how my dick feels against those soft ass lips of yours, you’d be feeling it. But naaaaah, you wanted to be on some other shit.”

“You get on my nerves,” I grumbled, a pout taking over my features as Tyson just shook his head at me.

“Get your ass undressed and let me see my pussy,” Tyson said.

Like I was a winter soldier who’d heard their trigger word, I snapped to moving instantly, flinging the tank I’d been tangled up in over my head and tugging off my leggings in rapid succession. Without waiting for his directive, my hands settled between my thighs instantly seeking out my pussy as if they were magnetized to the area.

“Aht! Did I say you could touch my pussy yet?” Tyson teased.

With the last of the restraint that I had in my body, I rested my hands on my thighs, still spread-eagle, my pussy on full display for Tyson. The simmering lust in his eyes set off a fire within me that burned with wanton insistence.

“Tyse, please,” I moaned, now lightly running my fingertips along my inner thighs.

“One hand on clit, other hand on tit,” he said, then laughed at his silly ass rhyme.

I’d heard it before, already knowing not to get too carried away with my movements at either site or there’d be consequences. I gently flicked my nipple with my right hand and used the middle finger of my left hand to slide against my clit in tandem. Since I was already pathetically sopping wet, the first glancing touch of my finger against my clit made my stomach concave as I cried out sharply. With a strength I mustered out of who knows where, I continued teasing myself much to Tyson’s pleasure as I observed his increased breathing and lowered eyes when I looked up to make eye contact. Feeling bold, I swiped my clit one last time and then brought my hand to my mouth, swirling my tongue around my finger and sucking it like it was the longer and girthier tool that resided in his shorts hundreds of miles away. I smirked when I heard Tyson’s impatient groan and looked up to see that I’d been rewarded with the sight I’d been aching to see. Tyse had rid himself of all of his clothing and the only thing I now saw in the phone’s frame was my beautifully veiny dick with his hand wrapped around it in a tight grasp.

Removing my finger from my mouth, I lowered my hand to my pussy once again, teasing my slit with the finger that had been working my clit earlier. Tyson began to move his hand up and down his shaft. My eyes were riveted to the screen as his disembodied voice encouraged me to fuck myself with my fingers keeping pace with his strokes. He alternated between short, rapid-fire jerks of his hand and long languid caresses with no rhyme or reason. I could feel myself getting wetter with each tempo shift as I let out a series of modulating, keening cries that only consisted of his name and the word yes being repeated in succession.

It must’ve started feeling too good to him as well because instead of making me hold out, Tyson gritted out, “Lemme see my pussy cum for me.” With those words, my hands went to work, bringing me to climax no more than thirty seconds after his command, the walls of my pussy contracting and releasing around my fingers in vain, milking them for a secretion that would never spurt forth from the digits. I heard Tyson’s increased breathing and low groans that let me know he was close to cumming and my eyes were riveted to the small screen of my phone as he shot off, his cum seeping from the tip of his dick in a massive gush. I licked my lips and hummed, wishing I was savoring the flavor of him in my mouth instead of being separated by way too many miles and hours before we would be reunited.

I collapsed backward onto the bed, eyes pointed upward watching as the blades of the ceiling fan swirled about until I had come back into my body. A few moments later, I heard Tyson call my name and I drug myself back up to grab my phone with a silly grin on my face.

“Are you happy now?” Tyson asked with a smirk on his face.

I couldn’t do shit but nod with a big grin, my eyelids feeling heavy with the weight of being completely sated and imminent sleep.

“Gon’ and take your ass to bed, mama. And be ready to make up for not saving this one for me when you get in tomorrow night. Love you.”

“I love you more, honey,” I replied around a yawn.

The sound of the FaceTime disconnecting was all I got back as I settled beneath the covers, giddily falling into slumber knowing that many orgasms greater than the one I’d just had awaited me as soon as I touched down at home.