Short Reviews: Kenya Moss Dyme
11 Jun

Short Reviews: Kenya Moss Dyme .

Blogs | admin | 0 Comments

You will need 9 Dimes Plus 9 Cents to Cop This!!!!

Yes her smile is friendly but her penmanship is as vicious as a Tasmanian Devil on the hunt...and then some.

Yes her smile is friendly but her penmanship is as vicious as a Tasmanian Devil on the hunt…and then some.

Did you ever meet an author whom you just wanted to look them in their eyes and say, “Can you please just shut the F**K UP!” And I mean it with a capital ‘F’. I mean they keep talking to you about that boring a$$ book they wrote saying, “You gotta read it.. It’s H-O-T!

But inside my mind I’m like “Yeah, it’s hot alright. I wish I had some lighter fluid and a match so I could burn them both up, then maybe  they will shut the hell up!”

Anyway, as I browsed within Facebook, Goodreads, Amazon, Reddit, Linkdin, Pinterest,, and so forth looking for new talent. I came across Kenya who of course was eager to burn my ears off which I often get from a lot of aspiring authors. Yes she talked, and Yes my ears were set ablaze. I was like “Hold up!You mean to tell me that your story is about a preacher who is what, and he isn’t Catholic! And the other involves a threesome and what in the hell?” I excitedly exclaimed.

And she was like, “Yeah muthaf**ka! Watch yo back Cheese because I will put my foot so far up your a$$ that every time you brush your  teeth you will shine my shoes, and you can take that to the bank. I ain’t scared of your big ass. You’re gonna read my book like you said you would or I will drive from Sub Zero/Lake City and take you out, and I don’t mean on a date neither!”

So, after a brief conversation. I asked her, “May I please call you back because this is getting hostile and I will beat a woman’s a$$ if you come knocking at my door. So is it okay if I just hang up because I don’t wanna be in the same situation as Dr. Dre and Dee Barnes.”

“Yes, you can hang up but I can tell you most assuredly I’m no Dee Barnes I know Whup a Niccas A$$ Jeet Kun Doo! You better read the chapters I send and get back to me pronto!”

“Okay.” I said.

Anyway to make a long story short, I called her back after about twenty minutes or so. I profusely apologized for my rudeness, and she in turn apologized for texting me over 60 times and for threatening to open up a can of whup ass on me for reneging on my word. Prior to the incident I forgot to return her call. I did deserve it, and I am honored to have read part of her stories which I am sharing with you all. I can honestly say they are worth the read and I am looking forward to reading the rest.

So Kenya, Please accept my public apologies once more, and without further adieu I give you: The Pulpit Chronicles: Prey For Me, and A Good Wife.

Support Your Urban Authors they work hard! You can Purchase Kenya’s work by clicking the book icons below. Read it! Rate It! Love It! Please feel free to add a comment below and tell me what you think. Let Kenya know if she should quit her day job…LOL!

The Pulpit Chronicles



“Good morning, Sister Hatcher!” Reverend Goody proudly showed all of his teeth when he spotted the thick-legged woman standing next to the racks of bread.  She spun around quickly and dramatically tossed the shiny curls of her Brazilian Remy weave back over her shoulder.  A smile beamed across her face when her eyes focused on the handsome man standing in front of her.  A big sexy bald-headed brown-skinned man – oooh Lawd!  She felt the stirring in her thighs just looking at his straight white teeth with that sexy gap in the front.  What a beautiful man!

Sister Hatcher – Sister Keynetha Hatcher – had to remind herself that this was the Reverend.  Not some man in the club.  Not some guy at her job working in the cubicle next to her calling people about their past due credit card bills.  Not the mailman or the cable man or the man who cuts her grass every week.  This was the REVEREND.  She should not be standing here in the grocery store feeling…moist.  This has to be a sin.  She told herself that she was going to get on her knees when she got home, get right on her knees and pray.  Pray to the heavens with her loudest voice, like the Reverend told them to do at church on Sunday.  She was going to read her bible and pray as hard as possible for the Lord to forgive her for her dirty thoughts about the Reverend.

The Reverend stepped closer and closer, and Sister Keynetha’s knees felt weak as he leaned toward her.  Is he about to…kiss me?

The Reverend gently touched the side of his face to hers and patted her on her back in a brief but friendly hug.  He released the hug and pulled back to look into her face.

“How are you, Sister Hatcher!  I missed you at church last Sunday – is everything okay at home?”  He was staring into her eyes so deeply that her legs felt like butter.  She couldn’t lie to him but she couldn’t tell him that she had stayed out late Saturday night drinking with her girls and she had a massive headache on Sunday morning.  There was no way she could make it to church, besides, she didn’t wake up until 3:00 that afternoon and services were already over.

“Oh, no, everything’s fine at home – I just had a late night and I wasn’t feeling too good on Sunday morning,” said Keynetha.  She had to break away from the Reverend’s stare because it was making her feel self-conscious – and turning her on.  Those deep dark eyes and thick black eyebrows, with his Jamie Foxx-looking ass.  Made no sense for him to be a man of God, she thought, because she could think of a lot of things she could do to this fine man.  She reached for a loaf of bread from the rack and pretended to read the label.

“I hope you’re feeling better,” said the Reverend.  “You should have called the church and left a message if you needed me to make a house call….and pray with you.”

Was he flirting back?  Keynetha’s head was spinning.  He better leave me alone before I drop to my knees and go to work on this muthafucka!  She laughed at herself as she wondered if he could hear her thoughts.  Of course he couldn’t, but the idea tickled her.  But again – was he flirting back?

“Thank you, Reverend, I’m fine now, I think I just needed more rest.  I should be there next Sunday for sure!”

The Reverend smiled at her and licked his lips.  Yup, he’s definitely sending me some vibes right now, I’m not imagining it!

“Good to hear, Sister Hatcher,” he said.  “There’s an Usher Board meeting Wednesday night and we’re short a few ushers since the Campbell family moved to Chicago.  They had three daughters on the usher board, you know.”

I’ll be your usher, Keynetha said to herself.  Whatchu gonna give me for it?

“That’s right,” she said, “I forgot about that – that was a big family!  Our choir is short like six people now since they moved!”

Reverend Goody laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling.  “You’re right.  Guess I need to do some heavy recruiting to fill in all of the gaps!”

“What time is the usher board meeting?  My godmother is on the usher board and she’s been trying to get me to join.  I think I’ll come and see where I can help out.”

“It’s at 6:00.  Come on by and join. We could use the help.  Seems like we got a lot of new members since I talked to that reporter on TV a few weeks ago.”

“Yes, we sure did,” said Keynetha.  “A few of my friends started coming to church just because they saw you on TV!”

This was true.  Reverend Goody did a brief interview on the local news, speaking about a twelve year old neighborhood boy and church member who disappeared on his way home from school, and suddenly the church’s phone lines blew up and a wave of new visitors started showing up every Sunday. It didn’t go without notice that these visitors were overwhelmingly women, ranging from their early twenties to maybe mid-fifties.  They seemingly came in pairs or groups, all dressed to show off their finest features – tight clothing accentuating their round asses, short skirts to display thick brown thighs, low cut tops that barely restrained their ample breasts.  They put on quite a show, shuffling around trying to get closer to the front of the church so the Reverend couldn’t miss them.  But the regulars and old-timers sat tight in their seats, refusing to give up their spots and give these new folks the satisfaction of being seen.

The older women turned up their lips at these new, young and sparkly women, glancing disdainfully at their long weaves and high heels as they tipped up and down the aisle looking for a place to sit.

“Okay, so that’s why it’s been standing room only out in the pews!”  The Reverend said, smiling sheepishly.  “I thought it was because Mother Waddles started baking cookies every Sunday after service!”

“Yeah, well, those cookies are the bomb!”  Said Keynetha.

“Don’t let me keep you, Sister Hatcher,” the Reverend reached out and touched her arm, ever so slightly, in a gesture of ending their conversation but Keynetha felt his fingers linger just a bit longer than he intended.  Was it all in her mind?

“I just wanted to let you know that I saw you – I’m picking up something to cook for dinner tonight,” he said and waved toward his abandoned shopping basket at the other side of the aisle.  Keynetha noticed how empty his cart looked with only a handful of items, and it reminded her that this good looking Man of God was also single and had no one to prepare him a hot meal.

She saw an opportunity and she went for it.  Clearing her throat, she took a step closer and looked into Reverend Goody’s face.

“You should let me make you dinner sometime, Reverend.  It just doesn’t seem right that you should be fixing and eating a meal by yourself when you do so much for the church.”

He laughed that big hearty laugh again and bent over to her cart and began moving her items around.  “I don’t know, let’s see what you bought here.  What can I expect if I come over?”

Oh, what I wanna give you ain’t in this basket, Reverend Theodore Goody.  Keynetha smiled as he picked up her bag of fresh collard greens in one hand and the shrink wrapped package of ham hocks in the other.

“Alright, alright, you’re off to a good start already!” he said, then he patted the bag of whole sweet potatoes lying against the side of the basket.  “Oh yes, Sister Keynetha, your basket is looking like you know your way around the kitchen!”

I know my way around other rooms of my house too, Reverend.

“Oh yeah, for sure, I’m a very good cook!  My momma made sure I knew how to cook before I even got to middle school.  I had to take over cooking for the family,” said Keynetha.  “You just let me know what you want and I can make it special for you.”

The Reverend stopped rambling around in her basket, which was good because she was afraid he would move the twelve-pack of bathroom tissue at the front of the basket and expose the big shrink-wrapped container of rat poison that she was buying to take care of some unwanted guests in her home.  There was a package of fresh catfish wrapped in brown paper pushed up against the bathroom tissue, and when the Reverend picked that up, Keynetha reached over and took it from his hands, making a joke to distract him and end his treasure hunt through her basket.

“Look if you’re gonna poke all around in my basket then you need to let me take a look in yours too, to make it even!”

She crossed the aisle and headed over to the Reverend’s basket which sat abandoned just a few feet away.  She could hear the Reverend rushing up behind her as she approached the basket.

“What’s this – you have some grandkids, Reverend?” Keynetha reached over and slid her hand across the four boxes of juice pouches in the basket.  To her surprise, the Reverend’s basket was full of snacks and treats – she saw gummy bears, some sugar-sweetened cereal with cartoon characters on the box, and several packages of cookies.

“You either have a bunch of grandkids or you’re running a daycare on the side or you have a sweet tooth that’s out of control!”  Keynetha joked.  The Reverend stepped between her and the basket, forcing her to move back.

“You got me, you know my secret, I do have a bad sweet tooth,” said the Reverend.  “Don’t let the ladies of the congregation find out!  They will be bringing me cakes and pies every Sunday!”

“You gotta watch that, Reverend, it’s funny but it makes me worry about you too.  You really DO need a home-cooked meal, don’t you?”  Keynetha saw a chance to make her move.  Going after the Reverend, girlllllll. 

“How about tomorrow night?  I’ll make dinner and dessert – all you have to do is show up with your appetite,” she offered.

“Now we can’t get the church talking, you know how rumors get started, Sister Key,” replied the Reverend, using Keynetha’s nickname, which told her that he was getting comfortable and probably ready to crack.  She couldn’t wait to get back in her car so she could tell her cousin TeeTee.  She wished she could send her a cellphone pic of the two of them in the store talking.  Would it be crazy to ask the Reverend to pose for a selfie?

“It’s okay, we all know you’re a good man, a God-fearing man, nobody would think anything impure about you, Reverend.  All anyone would think is that you’re coming to sit with me in prayer or do some bible study.”

“Alright, Sister Key.  If you insist.  What time should I be there?”

“Six o’clock?  That will give us time to eat and I really do need you to say some prayers for some of my family members after we eat.  Is that okay, Reverend?”

“Of course, I’ll be there at 6.  Thank you, Sister.  God bless you for being so kind and thoughtful.”  The Reverend put his hands on the basket handle and began to push away from her, moving down the aisle.

“Good day, Reverend,” Keynetha stood just a bit longer and watched him walk away.  She was looking at his ass under the flap of his long overcoat.  Doesn’t seem fair for the Reverend to have a nice ass.

She giggled to herself at her thoughts.  He is falling right into my trap!  Once he tastes my cooking, that nigga will never go home!  Wait, you can’t call the damn Reverend a nigga!

He’s still a man.  A bible in one hand and his dick in the other.  He’s still a man.  Keynetha returned to her basket and continued shopping with a smile on her face.  To passers-by, she might look like a crazy person, pushing the basket around the store with a huge grin on her face.  She was seeing visions of her and the Reverend rolling around in her bed, naked and sweaty, the room lit only by candles.

Oh well, if she was already going to ask for forgiveness then she may as well earn it!



Reverend Goody pulled into his driveway and hit the button on the remote opener.  The door pulled upwards, painfully slow, it seemed, while the Reverend tapped impatiently on the steering wheel.  He wondered, did the door always roll up this slowly?  Or did he just not notice before because he wasn’t this nervous?  He reached over and caressed his worn leather bible sitting in the passenger seat.  “Dear Father, have pity on those that seek to cause trouble, for they know not what they do.”

The garage door finally granted him entry, and he floored the pedal and rushed inside.  He shut off the engine and sat in the car in the dark garage after the door went back down closing him inside.  He wanted to go over the day’s events, to make sure it happened the way he remembered it happening, to make sure he hadn’t said the wrong thing or given the wrong signal.  Sometimes the women at the church would come on so strong that he struggled with striking that delicate balance between doing the work of the Lord and being friendly and keeping the communication open so they would know they could come to him for prayer and healing – but also not to feed into their lonely desires of the flesh.

The churches were always filled with lonely desperate women looking to become the First Lady, or just get a taste of what it was like to be the First Lady, even if it was just for one night.  He knew it all too well.  He had to continuously pray for strength from the pleasures of the flesh; after all, he was just a man.  He was simply a messenger of God and his flesh had urges like any other man.  It was only by constant prayer and meditation that he was able to keep from violating so many of these women with his urges.  If they only knew how hard it was for him to fight his urges, they would be afraid.  They would also be shocked to discover that his desires were not for the flesh of their thighs or the curves of their asses.  They had very little to offer him outside of an alibi, but he had to keep up the appearance by keeping them aroused and trembling and daydreaming.  Let them keep thinking that they had a chance, it provided him with the perfect cover for his true desires.

His urges sometimes hit him in the night like a freight train.  Roaring up from the soles of his feet as he lay in bed, running up his legs and through his thighs and then striking his dick like a bolt of lightning.  He remembered those days of being able to feed the urge without so much complication.  It was so easy back then, before the days of the internet and cellphones.  You might think those things made it easier, but no, that made it harder because of all of the tracking and digital footprints.  Sure, it was easy to locate, but not so easy to hide, and a man in his position needed to hide.  So he kept his desires under control the old fashioned hands-on way.  He didn’t go to porn sites or do online dating or get into sexting.  He couldn’t risk losing everything he had built by being careless again.  He’d had to run before and he wasn’t going to do it again.

“The Lord is my strength and my defense; he has become my salvation. He is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will exalt him.”

Taking a deep breath, Reverend Good finally pulled the door handle and stepped out of his car.  He reached into the back seat and removed the grocery bags of snacks.  The weight of the treats was heavy in his hand and made him smile because he anticipated the joy the treats would bring, and how he might be rewarded for bringing them.

He entered the kitchen through the garage and put the bags on the counter, then reached in and pulled out one box of the juice pouches.  He took out two pouches and applied the straws, making them ready to drink.  Sitting the pouches on the counter, he took a paper plate from the cabinet and laid it next to the juices, then removed four of the sandwich cookies and placed them on the plate.  Pulling open the kitchen drawer, he took out a marker and wrote on each plate, “God loves you.  And so do I.”

He assembled the juice pouches on the plate, looked at his work and smiled.  He knew this was pleasing to the Lord because at that moment he felt strong and in control and the blood was rushing through his veins because he was excited.  The excitement caused his dick to harden and he wasn’t ashamed because he knew he was going to be rewarded soon for his dedication and unwavering service.

The door to the basement was just a few steps away from the countertop but he needed the keys to unlock the three deadbolts, so he retrieved the keys from the bottom of the planter in the living room, then returned and matched the keys up with each lock, grinning as he heard the familiar and satisfying clunk of each key releasing its lock.

Reverend Goody pulled the chain to the light at the top of the stairs and headed down, holding the plate in one hand and keeping himself steady with the rail in the other.

At the bottom of the stairs, he pulled another chain to light up another short hallway, at the end of which was another door to the storage closet.  His heart was beating fast and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

He prayed to the Lord to help him make his decision.  I want to do what is pleasing to you, Lord.  He heard a noise from behind the door and he smiled, recognizing that that was his signal to continue as always.

He turned the doorknob and entered the storage closet, pulling the chain to turn on the lightbulb in the ceiling.

The boy hid his face under the blanket when the light filled the tiny room.  The light hurt his eyes because he only saw it once a day, or once a night; he didn’t know anymore whether it was day or night.  He just knew that he only saw the light bulb turn on when the Reverend came in the room.  He wasn’t able to turn it on himself because a bright orange mesh belt tied him tightly to the bed rails and kept him from moving too far away from his bed.  It was crudely twisted over itself into a knot, then wrapped around his ankle and secured with a padlock, with just enough length to allow him to reach the waste bucket on the other side of the room.  Other times – if he was good – the Reverend took him upstairs to the bathroom and allowed him to soak in a bubble bath and watch 30 minutes of television – only if he was really good.

He wanted to be good again, but sometimes it was hard not to fight back.  Even when he knew it would end with him being hurt really bad by the Reverend’s fists.  He was learning quickly what was acceptable to his captor and what was not; what would earn him rewards and what would earn him beatings.  His will to survive kicked in the first night he woke up in this dark place, and he was determined to stay alive until someone rescued him and ended this nightmare.

Reverend Goody approached the bed with the plate in front of him like a peace offering.  His big bright smile was sickening in the context of where they were.

“I told you I would bring you a surprise tonight,” said the Reverend, loosening his belt as he got closer to the bed.  The boy grabbed for the cookie, he was starving.

“No!”  The Reverend snatched the plate back out of his reach.  “You know you have to pray before you eat.  Don’t be bad or I’ll have to hurt you again.”

The boy bowed his head and went through the motions of the prayer that the Reverend had taught him.  The Reverend smiled as he listened to him say the words that he wanted to hear, the words that reassured him that he was doing the right thing.


A Good Wife



“Alesha, can you hear me?”

“Alesha, baby, please wake up!”


Alesha stirred and blinked to block out the bright light from the hospital window.  She tried to raise her arm to cover her face but found they were strapped to the bed rails with leather belts.  She jerked against the belts in a useless attempt to free herself but the woman standing next to her bed placed her hands over her wrists.

“Stop, honey, they’ve got you strapped down for your own safety.”

The woman’s hand felt so soft and comforting that Alesha stopped struggling and turned her head to see who these hands belonged to.  She didn’t recognize the older black woman standing there with a concerned look on her face.  Her gray hair was brushed back into a single long braid, and the color was in sharp contrast to her blue dress, and she wore thin silver-framed glasses down on the tip of her nose.

She could tell that Alesha was confused so she placed a hand over Alesha’s forehead to calm her.

“My name is Doctor Wayne, sweetie.  I’m the resident psychiatrist.  I want to help you, don’t be afraid,” she said.

“This doctor here is tryna help you girl!”  Alesha recognized the gruff voice of her father at the foot of her bed.  She raised her head a little so she could look at him.  He was standing there with his arms crossed and his usual angry expression on his face.  He had one of those faces that always looked angry, even when he was sleeping or watching television.  Growing up, the neighborhood kids called him Black Bert, because he favored Bert from Sesame Street.  Now Black Bert was in his least favorite place – the hospital – and this time he really wasn’t happy.

“Wake up and talk to this doctor so we can find out what the hell is wrong with you!” He added, glaring at her from underneath furry eyebrows.

“Calvin, calm down, she’s sick, don’t talk to her like that,” Alesha’s mother spoke up from the side of the bed.  She had always been the voice of reason in their 20-year marriage but now that they were divorced, her words didn’t have much of an effect on him.  She reached out and patted Alesha’s leg underneath the sheet.  “Don’t pay him no mind, honey.”

“I think your parents just wanted to make sure you were okay, but now if you’re awake, I’m going to ask them to step out in the hallway so we can talk for a moment – do you understand?” asked Dr. Wayne.

Alesha nodded.

“Why we gotta leave?  We ain’t heard the girl talk yet, how we know she alright?”  Alesha’s father was getting louder.

Dr. Wayne turned to him and hit him with that soothing stare that calmed you down and made you want to stretch out and tell her all of your problems.  It was easy to see why she was a psychiatrist.  She had a gift.

“Listen to me, Mr. Jones.  I understand that you’re worried about your daughter, and I understand that you need to be assured that she is safe and going to be taken care of.  I am here to give you that assurance,” Dr. Wayne reached out and rubbed his arm, and he moved closer to her.  Alesha could tell he was softening up.

“She can’t hurt herself right now and even though her eyes are open, she’s still a little groggy from the sedative that the doctor gave her.  However, I just want to get some information from her, and then I am going to let her get some sleep for the rest of the night.  Tomorrow, I will meet with you and your wife-”

“She’s not my wife,” said Mr. Jones stubbornly.  “We divorced.”

Dr. Wayne stroked his arm again, thinking to herself, what a piece of work this guy is.  No wonder the poor girl tried to off herself.

“I’m sorry, Alesha’s mother – tomorrow I will meet with you both and we will discuss Alesha’s situation.  Now I want you both to get some rest.  Your daughter will be okay.  I promise you.”

Alesha’s mom stood up and kissed Alesha on the forehead.  “I’m sorry I had to bring him,” she whispered.  “I’ll be back tomorrow, without him.”

She turned and shook Dr. Wayne’s hand.  Dr. Wayne covered her hands inside of her own, in that way that makes you believe the person really cares about your feelings.

“Sleep well, your daughter is on the road to recovery,” said Dr. Wayne.

“Thank you very much, Dr. Wayne,” Alesha’s mom grabbed her former husband by the sleeve.  “Come on, Calvin, let’s get out of here so baby girl can talk to the doctor. She don’t need you standing there looking at her like you crazy.”

Calvin snatched his arm, grumbling, and followed behind her.  “I just don’t understand this mess, its ridiculous!  Got babies at home and tryna kill herself.  Makes no damn sense!  She got that from YOUR side of the family!”

Dr. Wayne followed behind, wishing them a pleasant evening, and closing the door softly.  She walked back to the bed and stood stroking Alesha’s hair away from her face.

“Okay, my dear, it’s just you and I now.”  She tapped the leather wristbelts.  “I can remove these if you promise me that you’ll stay calm.  If I sense that you might try to harm yourself again, I’ll ring this buzzer -” she tapped on a plate on the wall with a large red button in the middle of it.  “- and nurses will rush in and subdue you, and they may sedate you again.  I don’t want that, and I don’t think you want that.”

A single tear rolled down Alesha’s face. “I won’t do anything, I promise.”

Dr. Wayne unlatched the clasps on the wristbelts and loosened them so Alesha could withdraw her hands.  She pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, then began pushing the controls on the hospital bed to lower Alesha to her eye level.

“I heard your father say that you had babies at home, is that right?”

Alesha nodded.

Dr. Wayne took Alesha’s hand into hers and looked into her face.  “Then please tell me, Alesha, why did you try to end your life tonight?”


Chapter One


“Oh, baby, damn, you feel so good!” Malcolm moaned as he slid his stiff and swollen cock into Alesha’s pussy from behind.  He gripped her hips and held her body up to support the pounding he was giving her.  Pushing into her and pumping quickly and forcefully, he held still and let Alesha tighten her juicy walls around his cock, anticipating his next stroke.

“You know, you’ve got the best pussy I’ve ever had,” he leaned over and breathed into her ear from behind.  “I just love the way you grip me and squeeze me.  Nobody does that like you, Alesha baby.”

Alesha was shaking with pleasure as she craned her neck to hear his every word.  She maneuvered her body around so she could see his face, she loved watching him loving her; she loved the expressions on his face.

Sex with her husband was the most incredible, and she wanted to do everything he loved to give him the greatest pleasure he had known.  As much as he pleased her, she wanted to please him with the same intensity.  It was the one thing she knew they agreed on, that sex between them was exciting and toe-curling and she never found any reason to not want to enjoy the opportunity.  Malcolm spent a great deal of time caressing and pleasing her body before he entered her, and even then, he made it a personal challenge to make sure she achieved a mind-numbing orgasm before he allowed himself to erupt deep within her slick tunnel.  He always moaned in her ear terms of endearment and phrases of the nasty dirty things he wanted to do to her and what he wanted her to do to him.

So if it was so good to them both and they were, by all accounts, sexually compatible in every way – why did he want to bring another woman into their bed?  Alesha couldn’t understand.  She engaged him in every way and actively participated in his fantasies about having a threesome with a male coworker, or attending a swinger’s party and having group sex in a room with strangers.  She would tell him the dirtiest kinkiest stories she could think of while she slid her hands up and down on his stiff rod, getting him to the brink until he would grab her head and force her down to catch his fluid as it shot out of his cock.  She would even whisper in his ear while he was sweaty and pounding between her legs held up in the air, she would craft for him a story of being spread out on his desk with his coworker bent over between her legs licking her pussy while she cried out in pleasure.

“Fuck me good, Daddy,” Alesha cried out, egging him on.  She knew that kind of talk really helped push him over; he loved for her to call him Daddy when he was deep inside of her.

She did it all for him, whatever fantasy he wanted, she went along with it, and if it was something she didn’t know much about – like when he wanted to talk about having anal sex with her, something they had never done – she went on the internet to research it, read about it and watch videos, so she could better put together a sexy story to whisper at him while she was riding in his lap with his cock inside of her.

It was all good as long as it was just a fantasy.  They could say and do whatever they wanted as they shared the nastiest and freakiest stories of things they knew they would never actually do.  But when Malcolm dropped the idea in her lap, so to speak, Alesha froze mid-stroke.  She had been on top, grinding and riding on his stiff cock and using her hands to rub and squeeze her nipples, putting on quite a show for her lovely man.  Her head was thrown back with her thick Marley braids flying around her head and matted in sweat around her neck.  She knew how she looked and she knew by the look in Malcolm’s eyes that he appreciated her efforts.  Suddenly, he reaches around her and starts rubbing her ass and slapping it gently, then pulling her down into him so he could raise his hips and force his cock deeper inside.  The intensity of him going deeper caused her eyes to fly open and she moaned and looked down at him, their eyes locked, and that’s when he asked her, “Do you know what would make this moment perfect?”

Alesha couldn’t speak, she was caught on the edge of an orgasm that began its descent from the very pit of her cervix and she was almost frightened at the intensity it promised.  “What?”  she breathed.

Malcolm hesitated a moment and then she thought she heard him say, “If Traci was sitting on my face right now, and I had my tongue inside her sweet pussy.”  As soon he got out the sentence, his cock started quivering and Alesha began her climax at the same time.  But she froze at his words and her body stopped moving while the climax rippled up through her body and took her breath away.  Malcolm was groaning as his cock spurted out ripplets of cum deep inside of his wife.  He was totally unaware of the fact that she had stopped moving, since he could feel her pussy vibrating in an orgasm; he knew she was there with him.  He didn’t open his eyes until he had finished emptying inside of her and caught his breath.  When he opened his eyes, Alesha was staring at him.

“What did you say?” she asked, wide eyed, her heart beating hard in her chest.

Malcolm smiled and slid his hands up to her breast, where he began massaging them both in small circles.  That usually melted her resolve and helped him avoid any argument that might be brewing.  This time he could tell it would be different.

“I was just saying, you know how we talked about doing a threesome, I just thought that if we did it, we would want somebody we could trust, right?”  Malcolm wet the tip of his index finger with his tongue and moved it back and forth across her nipple.  “That’s not something you can just do with anybody, right?”  He flashed that wide bold smile at her with his perfectly straight white teeth.  Then he licked his other index finger and started on the other nipple; soon he was rolling both nipples between his fingers in tandem.  But Alesha was no longer aroused; she was disturbed by the mention of her best friend sitting on her husband’s face.

“I thought…I thought that was just one of our fantasies, you know, one of our stories that we tell each other for excitement,” she spoke softly, feeling the dread building in her stomach.

Malcolm chuckled.  “It was a fantasy, but why can’t we make it happen?  We have a lot of fantasies, we can’t make them all come true, I know that, but why not make just one come true?”  He raised his upper body off the bed and started licking her nipple, slipping it into his mouth and sucking on it.  “Mmmmm, I love your nipples.  You know I love you, right?”

For the first time, Alesha wasn’t joining him in his game.  She sat very still and stiffened her back, not giving in to him as she usually would.  She usually would raise her hands to run through his hair while he played with her nipples, she would moan and whisper his name to let him know how good he made her feel.  But not this time.  She wasn’t letting him off that easily.  Was he serious?

“What’s the problem?” Malcolm asked.  “I figured if we do it with somebody you can trust then it’s all good.  We can trust Traci, don’t you think so?”

“That’s not the point, Malcolm,”  Alesha said finally.  “Of course I trust her, but I can’t let you fuck my best friend!  This is crazy!”

Malcolm pulled her head down to meet his lips and kissed her deeply, probing her mouth with his tongue; Alesha’s body betrayed her by moaning into his kiss.  She didn’t want to give in but he had that kind of hold on her and she always wanted to make him happy.  She’d never considered that there might be limits to how far she would go.  They’d never tested the limits.  Anything they had not done was simply because they just had not done it yet, not because she ever said no.

Malcolm broke the kiss and grabbed her hair, forcing her to look into his eyes.  “That’s just it – we make LOVE, I make LOVE to you, I LOVE you, we LOVE each other.  I wanna FUCK her.”  And then he plunged his tongue into her mouth again.

Alesha felt his cock twitch and began to swell as he became aroused again.  It didn’t escape her attention that his own words had excited him.  He was hard again and her body was still holding his stream from minutes earlier.

“But…but, we FUCK too!”  She said weakly, feeling her resolve melt as his cock rose up to press into her belly.

He reached one hand between them and aimed the head of his cock toward her pussy and took his other hand and pressed on her ass to pull her into him.  He slid inside smoothly as she was still wet from their last session.

“Not like I wanna fuck her,” he said, looking right into her eyes as he went in as far as he could go.

Alesha didn’t want to feel good at that moment but she couldn’t stop it.  His words scared her and excited her at the same time.  A voice inside of her head screamed, what the fuck are you saying to me?  And she wanted to be angry, she wanted to slap his face, but she watched his eyes roll up in the back of his head as he began making love to her, and she could no longer fight the passion that she felt for this man.  No matter how outrageous his words were, that he wanted to fuck her best friend in a way different than the way he had her, she knew above all that she loved him and would do anything for him.  She was insulted, and offended, but at the same time she felt powerful.  And she realized how insane that concept was – to feel powerful in the face of her man telling her that he wanted another woman.  She felt powerful because he included her and asked her to agree and he didn’t go behind her back and cheat like so many other men would do.

She wouldn’t lose her man the way her mother lost hers.  She wouldn’t have Malcolm Jr. and Ebony growing up in a home without a father.

She wrapped her arms around his back and held on tightly, thinking, this is MY man, and I must give him anything he needs.

Author Bio

Kenya2Kenya Moss-Dyme is a writer of fiction, originally from Chicago, now hailing from Michigan – land of the subzero winters and nuclear summers. She began writing short-form horror in her teens and won several scholastic writing awards for her creative work. She later realized a talent for also writing thrillers and erotic novellas.

“The only genres in which I don’t feel comfortable writing are comedy and romance. Whenever I try to write a romantic story, it ends up turning dark and the couple will go from taking marriage vows to going on a crime spree! So I tend to stay away from those genres altogether.  When it comes to erotic stories, I like to challenge myself and write a really good story that just happens to have a lot of incredible sex folded up inside.”

Kenya has several exciting projects in development for 2014 under the Royal Dynasty Publications imprint, including a novel about an urban zombie apocalypse, more from the Pulpit Chronicles series about “preachers with very unchristian behavior”, and a few stories that are a bit on the risqué side.

“I love zombies and the supernatural! But there’s nothing scarier to me than HUMANS and the unimaginable depths of depravity of which we are capable. You see it in the news every day and you ask yourself, ‘what kind of monster…?’ That’s what I love to explore in my writing, characters that are like the people you think you know – but you really don’t know after all. I create them – and then I like to set them free – does that sound a little strange?”

Kenya holds both an MBA in Business, and a Masters in Education; as well as undergraduate degrees in Marketing and Web Development.

The Pulpit Chronicles: Prey for Me is Kenya’s first full-length novel.