Darland took a nice swallow of the Stout. Tasting every bit of the chocolate malt and the wonderful coffee flavor of the hearty libation. Libation was what Porters and Stouts were to him. Beer was the other stuff out there. Now this, as he took another healthy pull off of the pint he was working on, is a damn beer as he smiled ever so slightly indulging in his love and his mistresses, Porter and Stout. Both having traditional male sobriquets but all woman each one of them. Making love to him for two to three hours at a time. He looked longingly which now was a kind of hourglass shape she was dressed in this night, her skin sweating ever so slightly, just the right temperature to start with then warming up just to room temperature, the perfect love. Poor Porter. That’s what he loved about the two of them too. Some days coming in the form of thick, or slim, and then with curves depending on where you go for the coital activity which would surely transpire once the plan was in place and the right place was picked.
Calling him all the time, “Come meet me up the street please. I’m dark and beautiful and oh so tasty lover,” she would call to him lustfully. Most of the time he would fool them both and go someplace else and if they found him fine, if not a Canadian, Jamaican, German, Japanese...any of the other women would suit him just fine, but wouldn’t spend too much time with them though. At the most he could only go a couple of rounds. One of them he forgot the nationality damn near cussed him out, tasting her so-called sweet juices for not even a quarter of the time. Americans. Damn them. They all tasted the same. Some bland pussy there boy. He was here to tell you. Some of them even having a twang to them. Pussy so bad make a mah fucka like him damn near shit his drawers at work. Running to the bathroom because he just couldn’t meet at the places they knew. No he trying to fool them to see if they could read his mind and damned if either one showed up. A Canadian or German always there. They knew what the deal was. He would never be faithful to any one other than Porter or Stout.
When they called him and he was horny for their dark sweet caramel juices, he, hypnotized would go to them and they would make the sweetest love. Often times they'd come home with him. One of them getting mad because, depending on the evening he only wanting to spend time with one or the other. Both of them being equally cool about the situation all were in. This sexual triangle he had gotten these two beautiful, lovely ladies into. They didn’t deserve it. They could have many guys out there that would choose between the two and not go back and forth, making love to one for hours and then turning around two nights later and spending only three hours with the other. But he was hooked on both and given the perspective night, he just went crazy and have to have both. Juices mingling in his digestive system. Marrying the two. And the both of them hated it but both were vying to be his one and only love. Both thinking their sweet juices would eventually make him succumb to one or the other.
Both kept changing and he never wanted to choose, it was fun watching the morphing of their bodies at the numerous times and just as many locations they had sex. They were wearing him out. Maybe he didn’t have to choose. Shit he was living every males fantasy, having two women who know about one another and both being down for the menage thing. He was in the heezy fo’ sheezy my neezy. But sometimes it wasn’t his fault. Was it his fault that only one of them showed up. There was no choice then. He didn’t have to choose. Whichever showed up then hell that was the one he was going to get down with. Plain and simple. He didn’t have time when a bitch didn’t want to put out. Didn’t have time for her ‘man’ supposedly. He would go where he was appreciated and the other, shit, you better get yourself together, because there was a lot of other hos' out here that wanted Daddy’s company.
“Heh! Heh!” he hollered out, “Put the money in the bag! Put the money in the bag!” as he cheered the people around the bar and they all laughed at his very good impression of a familiar commercial that had just played on the big screen television located behind the bar. Her name was Guinness Extra Stout tonight. He Loved this tasty lady. Had a body to die for. Umm! He kissed Guinness passionately, tasting every bit of her chocolate nectar, and asked for another round. Guinness Extra Stout was going to get her ass waxed tonight as he indulged himself with round two, and yes, started waxing that ass. This was at least a four or five rounder night. He was going to suffer like hell tomorrow. But what was a nigga to do? Her ass was in rare form in.....? He looked around for a name and saw the book of matches he had been using, “Chumley's.” Damn right about that. Damn right about that as he finished her off, and round three was just around the corner. Definitely a five rounder. Definitely. Maybe even six, you lucky woman he thought to himself, thinking about poor Porter. Maybe another time bitch. Maybe another time. He was horny as hell as he started up the third round, polishing that ass very slowly now. He was going to take it slow. He wanted to make Stout one happy woman tonight. He might even have a few smoke breaks in between. Poor Porter.
Stout started to talk to him, “Where’s that bitch at now? Hunh? Where she at Darland? That bitch don’t love you. See how I make you feel. You don't know what you gettin with those other bitches. On a scale from one to ten, I'm nine point five niggah. And those other bitches with their pale ass skin. They don’t love you either. How many names those various bitches have? Hunh? I’m special. Not too many of me around nigga! I’m strong as hell and a lot more tastier. My shit staying on your tongue for hella long. You know I’m the only one for you. You know it. Look at Porter. Can’t get no love. And those other bitches are a dime a dozen. Oh, and we won’t even talk about those bland ass Americans. Shit. We are a breed of our own. I come from the land of the Stouts. We are the strongest because we are unique. The blacker the berry baby. The Blacker the berry baby,” she spoke lustily into his soul. He knew she had a point. All the others just didn’t compare to her black ass. Body five thousand for sure. She was right about her taste. Residuals of brown still being present on his tongue even when he would brushed the hell out of it. "I do Love you Guinness X," He whispered in her ear and tasted her with one long gulp and a lick of his upper lip to not waste any.
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