Cheaters Read Free

were you talking to, Stephan?”
    Samantha’s dark nipples were like beautiful blackberries sitting on top of small, elegant mounds of chocolate-coated joy. Her twenty kisses were juicier than a ripe berry, twice as sweet. I ran my hand across her short, curly hair, massaged the back of her neck. “You heard Dawn,” I said.
    She lifted her head. “Who’s Dawn?”
    “Darnell’s wife.”
    Samantha yelled, “Hey, Dawn. Stephan told me about you.”
    “Hello, Samantha,” Dawn called out from the other side of the door. “Nice to see you again. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
    “It’s okay.” Samantha waved one of her hands in the direction of the voice. “Stephan, what’re you doing?”
    “Saturday morning racquetball.”
    “That’s right.”
    “You want to go?”
    She sighed. “Can I stay here until you get back?”
    “Why don’t you come work out? Sleep later.”
    She cursed. “You have an extra racquet?”
    “Of course.”
    Which was good. I didn’t want to leave her here in my space all by herself. She might do a Columbo and go through my condo from ceiling to carport. Find something that she didn’t need to find.
    She kissed me. I put my hand under the sheets, slid my finger inside her, made her moan. Slid my digit deeper until I couldn’t slide it in anymore. Used two fingers. Moved them in and out in a slow, stirring rhythm. I knew how to wake her up.
    Samantha wiggled and pushed my hand away. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
    I smiled. I yelled, “Dawn, Samantha’s going with us.”
    Dawn yelled back. “Okay. I need some female bonding.”
    We all laughed.
    Samantha whispered, “Have I met her before?”
    “What?”
    “She said it was nice to see me again. I’ve never met her.”
    Samantha had a false smile on her questioning face.
    I smiled, ignored that question. “Hurry and get showered.”
    Samantha’s eyes changed, became sultry, and she asked, “Is that door closed all the way?”
    I nodded.
    She pulled my hips up to her face, reached into my spandex, and pulled out my penis. Moved it up and down, kissed it like it was a newborn child, slid it into her mouth like she was easing that baby in its favorite cradle. I gasped and made a
mmmm
sound. So warm. So good. Her eyes were on me as she licked around me, then slurped, pulled me in deeper.
    Dawn drove us down the hill to L.A. Fitness, where she had reserved a racquetball court. We played doubles, first couples against couples, then the guys against the dolls.
    Dawn was as vicious on the courts as she was in her real estate office. Aggressive, smooth. Hardly moved, but when she did, it was with a definite athletic rhythm.
    Samantha looked studious and dangerous because she crouched low and wore protective goggles. She’d calculate where the ball was going to land and be there before it knew where it was going.
    Darnell played too hard. He ran into the wall a lot and hit the ball damn hard, so hard every shot had the power of a kill shot, even from back court. Whenever he missed a shot, he’d look at his brand-new racquet like it was defective.
    I’d find out each of their weak spots and concentrate on playing that angle. Dawn’s backhand was inconsistent and sucked from deep in the court because her racquet kept bumping into the wall, cutting her return short.
    Darnell would get mixed up on a three-wall shot. I’d use the back wall for awkward returns and mix it up with ceiling shots to try to break their rhythms.
    Samantha wasn’t as agile and swift on the court as she was in bed.
    Me and Samantha won the first game by two. Dawn and Darnell won the next two without a lot of effort.
    When we switched partners, guys against dolls, Dawn said, “Samantha, let’s kick these bitches’ asses.”
    Darnell chuckled and bobbed his head. “It’s on.”
    I shouted a warning, “No mercy for those who menstruate.”
    Grunts, bumps, and curses: It sounded like a war.
    Me and Darnell struggled and won a game, beat Dawn