Sappho Intl (Songs of Silk Book 1) Read online

  My love's powder was pure and uncut, with a swift delivery and a bolt of light entering her stream of consciousness. The power of my love was multiplied and quickly growing within the hour. And as I felt my love muscle engorge to the third level, I began to stake my claim and take full ownership of her beautiful body. We were for the moment united, as she was filled with love, and I could see deeply in her baby blue eyes that I’d finally tapped past the mask and discovered the lover amongst her.

  I took the moment to inhale and exhale. To breathe the moment in and fill my spirit, with her love as a fortifying mantra. And with tantric energies rising within me, I could feel my divine adrenaline surge from my soul through to the blood in my veins. All of my rotating chakras and coiled muscles grew fully stimulated, and I could feel my body surrender to a controlled and raging passion. The soft and sensitive side of Silk's love had drained and the full power and intensity of Max's love had now taken my body hostage.

  She could sense this instant transformation, as my essence rose from my skin and the air became thickened with it.

  My whole spirit engulfed her. And I drove deeper, as our hips moved as one. Our lust binded our mind as one, in harmony with the essence that surrounded us. Our ecstasy binded our souls in harmony with the song of satisfaction that arose from our throats, as synchronized moans. The whole of our spirits morphed into one reeling sequence, as it became an out of body experience.

  We were plugged into each other and the power of light flowed within us. She became filled and together, we’d entered a state of grace.

  I would stroke her quickly. I would stroke her evenly. And I would stroke within her a determined rubbing, over and over again, that would bring within our minds a coming of age of paramount proportions. With short and steady strokes, I would touch and fill every crevice with a deep ambition and was driven to succeed with her vocal permission. With every moan and scream, my body lifted and percolated like hydraulics with switches; with only the brim of my rod's tip surviving the climb to stay inside—and her body would remember that I was here.

  My lotus began to scream my name, with a relentless repetition and in sync with the rhythm of her bouncing breasts. And yes, I must confess, that it seemed I’d finally endowed her with meteor showers of her own flower’s power, as she began to roll and grind with my muscle’s sweet caress.

  And with eyes shut closed, we would remember the miraculous light that filled the now-serene and perpetual pastures of our mind, as I stroked her.

  I am my lover’s antidote, as she would eagerly coat the now fully consumed shaft with a storaged and endless supply of her floral's oil; the veins glimmering, as if my ruler had gone gingerly mining to find her vessel’s liquid diamonds slickly flowing aplenty. And I, more than ever, ready to burrow her tunnel upon every persistent recoil. She was at the brink of her soul’s sinking and still I would not cease until she’d reached the full extent and outer limits of my own brand of self-sustained peace.

  “Oh, Silk…I’m cumming!” Her proclamation was guttural, but frank. “Please, don’t stop.”

  I wouldn’t and I dared to even alter my cadence.

  “Oh, S—i—l—k…” She dragged the words out with eyes closed as she clasped desperately onto the contracted muscles of my back. “I…’m…”

  Her words broke off and her whole body tensed within the viciousness of quivering quakes. And yet I persisted my stroking.

  She welcomed it and would cum again, until I finally subsided and decided that her body could take no more. She’d reached the culmination of her spirit’s sovereignty.

  And as soon as I would slide out, she would without body control, gush and flow and celebrate as though a fresh champagne bottle had just been uncorked. And her mouth gaped open as she’d drenched the sheets.

  She sat up and smiled from corner to corner, as a whole new world had been opened to her. And then she laughed genuinely, as she was elated at its discovery.

  “Oh…my…God.”

  She just kept repeating and looking at the sheets.

  “Oh…my…God.”

  She finally laid back and took my head to lie on top of her stomach, as I hugged her. I looked up and into her face. And her eyes became dazed and dilated, as she was lost in the richness of her rapture.

  My lotus could do nothing but shower me with praises and giggle. I began to chuckle with her, as I held her softly. Until her body finally grew aware of its own lifetime of pain.

  She began to cry in relief and astonishment; and I finally climbed and rolled beside her to hold her silently against my chest.

  “Thank you, Silk.” She whispered through tears of joy. “Thank you.”

  And though she was dazed her body would finally succumb to the overwhelming satisfaction. Her vessel grew limp, as though she’d received a sudden shot of morphine; and I would cradle her as she slept.

  Tonight was sublime—a complete and utter success. And since I’d served to my lotus the glory of a priceless fuck, it seemed as though I had indeed earned every penny of her purse.

  10

  “Que pasa pai?"

  "Chillin’...” I looked around in my aviator shades as I gave Suez dap. “…yo, these some sweet rides, right?"

  "I wouldn't mind fuckin' wit a few of them, loc.”

  “Wassup, Midi. It’s not often I don’t see you stuck between a build and a break.”

  ”Even the deejay deserves to chill sometimes. I had to put it on autopilot for a sec, ya dig.” She took a swig of rum from her plastic cup. “Hey yo, you see shawty over there eyein' you, Suez?"

  "I would lick her like a cool Piragua on a warm summer day, homey.”

  The femme was scantily clad in pink, leopard-print vintage panties and brassier, and was coolly perched on a fully customized hot pink, rat bike. She flirtatiously swung her black stilettos, winked at us and smiled.

  “Rat rods and rust queens. Does it get any better than this?”

  I leaned against a tricked-out, purple candy-painted Chevrolet Impala, along with Midi and Suez, who was also checkin’ the set. We’d all gotten plenty of rest, yesterday, and flew jets to Pharaoh’s Desert Dungeon in Paradise Valley, Arizona. And the Reign of the Supreme Rust Queen was the first day’s event of the second leg of Cloud9.

  Unlike Sir Sheik’s formal display of classical opulence and lavish excess, Pharaoh’s was an informal affair replete with an array of rock and roll sub-cultures and a modern gothic fanfare.

  Everyone was informally dressed and laid back for the lighthearted bar-b-q and private car showing, where the one and a half acre estate became a massive sand-stretched playground. Young studs and femmes, that’d purchased or owned customized hot rods and rat rods, lined up to proudly display them, along with the sexy rust queens that paired up with them. The owners coolly sported cuffed jeans and white t-shirts rolled up at the sleeves and rockabilly old time bowling shirts. And while they leaned and catcalled, vintage pin-up rust queens peered through sassy cat-eye sunglasses and flirted in leopard-print and red gingham shirts that tied at the belly. Today, my crew was much obliged to rock a laid back lowrider style—tanks, dickie pants and button-ups, and Chucks.

  And it was ALL good.

  As the weather was nice and warm, even the cactuses were coolly smiling across the desert terrain for the superb showing of some of the most customized vehicles in the region. Although 1950’s hot rods and rat rods was the overriding theme, many of Pharaoh’s friends within the region had also provided other customized vehicles. Some of her team and many regional Sapphians had driven or had their vehicles transported especially for this very occasion. Many had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to show them off and Pharaoh’s Dungeon provided the perfect backdrop.

  Collectors and enthusiasts parked their vehicles throughout the expansive Dakota, mahogany granite-laid parking lot in the front of the Dungeon. Elite playgirl cars like candy-painted Maybachs, fully customized Hummers and Mercedes with gull-wing doors parked near overhauled Mustan
gs, Oldsmobile 4-4-2’s and heavy Chevy’s. There were even custom-built Harley’s and custom-finished old school Ford Trucks on display.

  While car aficionados and fanatics enjoyed the car show in the front, other Sapphians enjoyed the off-road desert buggies and the customized outdoor, skate park in the back. And as the roaring dune buggies kicked up dust in the distance, skaters and bikers performed aerials, and slides & grinds, as younger Sapphians drank from cups filled with liquor and cheered them on.

  Since Pharaoh was in a rock band, much of her team was also rockers, skaters and bikers. It was as if Pharaoh had fostered a total lifestyle around her that attracted the same rocker traits in her team and associated Sapphians—much like myself and my team. They seemed geeked to be providing the private skate and biker expedition for the excited onlookers; which seemed to be a far cry from the lack of team participation that seemed to be present at Sir Sheik’s one stud show.

  Iggy Pop’s "Rock Show" thumped in my eardrum as we continued to lean and sip rum. And our eyes continued to delight in the buffet of cars.

  Pharaoh and the Sheik had just passed a tricked out ivory-white T-Rex and began to walk towards us.

  “Pharaoh, Cloud9 just gets better and better. You’ve gone and blown my mind with this one…Cars and women galore—I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  "Cars and women! How quaint. I guess this would be the full extent of your grand American dream?"

  Although Sir Sheik had been on her best behavior over the last few days, it seemed that the Sheik had reverted right back to the royal jerk that I ‘d been introduced to, prior to Cloud9. Once again I was thought to be an ass in the eyes of the top brass and once again she tried to strip me of my dignity—but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. I was not about to let her sour attitude even begin to ruin my day.

  "I don't know about my American dream but it makes for a good wet dream. Who wouldn’t bust a nut to a beautiful chick AND a shiny, new tricked out ride. I mean come on. It’s the ultimate cum on.”

  “Yeah, man…be about it.” Suez squinted her eyes.

  “Jeez, Sheik, you just can’t help but be a dick downer.” Pharaoh glared at the Sheik.

  “Aww! Did I hurt your feelings? Well, excuse me kiddies, I mean it’s all very cute but all of it’s a little below my pay grade—no offense Pharaoh.”

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I have the sudden urge to get a refill.” I commented coolly, despite my cup being still half full.

  We walked away from the Sheik, as soon as she had settled to sit on top of the Impala that we’d been leaning on, and Pharaoh followed suit to leave the Sheik by herself.

  "Going to cry in a corner, eh? Ah and that just proves that I AM surrounded by infants.”

  I ignored her, as we walked directly into the Dungeon.

  “Don't listen to the Sheik, she's been an ass all day today...”

  “Oh, I definitely ain't sweatin’ it... I just won’t be party to it when you’ve provided such a sweet celebration for us.”

  “Bruv, I feel ya!” Pharaoh began to direct us through the foyer of the Dungeon. “I really didn’t feel like putting up with it anymore today either—which is why I took a B-line as soon as you provided the out.”

  “Man, it’s all good.” I took a moment to brush the dirt off my shoulders in jest. “And the party don’t stop, dude.”

  “Binded and co-signed it, homey…” Suez, Midi and I pounded fists and blew it up, before taking swigs from our cups in unison.

  Pharaoh laughed and we began to admire the mansion together.

  “Yo, Pharaoh, you got a nice crib... real rock star stallion...”

  The Dungeon’s quirky luxury was a delicate balance of emo rock and a modern Gothic design. Rose and lancet arches riddled the windows and high wooden beam ceilings complimented Goth-inspired crucifix-and-crystal décor. And as we walked across the anticato terracotta brick tiles, eccentric chrome-riddled guitars on hooks lined and led us down the main hallway.

  “I know, right... It’s more than anything that I could’ve ever imagined. Check this room out...”

  Pharaoh opened one of the all-black iron doors and we were instantly hit with rock n’ roll supremacy.

  “This is my smoke and toke room.”

  Black chandeliers and polished silver armoires goaded us to float inside. We stepped in and crossed black, high-gloss laminate floors, as though we were strolling across a giant grand piano. And in the center of it, as well as the all-black, royal ornament-patterned, velvet feature wall, was an enormous cursive insignia of Pharaoh’s name in raised royal purple chrome.

  It was larger than life and truly awe-inspiring.

  “Sup, bruvas…” By now Pharaoh had glided over to one of the armoires and pulled a small bag of weed out of a chrome canister. “Wanna get a build on?”

  “I'll do you one better...” Suez pulled a freshly-rolled blunt out of a silver, single cigar holding tube that was tucked neatly in her pocket. “We can fire up this fat blunt right now...”

  “Magic! Aww, Suez, you are on it...”

  Pharaoh fired up the blunt as Silk, Midi and I settled into the room to form a weed circle. We set ourselves among two royal purple leather sofas, lined with metal nail-heads along its curves.

  “As the host of this fine event, Pharaoh, would you like to do the honors?”

  “I’d be delighted to.”

  She took the first drag and sunk back into the over-sized black and white tiger-textured armchair that she sat in.

  "The weed is peng!" She looked at the blunt and nodded her head in full approval.

  “It’s Cali's finest!”

  “Indubitably!”

  “So…Pharaoh…I heard you won the first year and Sir Sheik took the last two Cloud9’s?”

  “That's because I LET her. Since year one, I've been getting so many personal call requests that I don't really even try. So, I LET her hold the crown for a few…It's good for her self-esteem—otherwise I'd be undefeated. But I'm not pulling any punches this year. Like I said before—you're fresh competition.” Pharaoh winked her eye in my direction with sheer confidence.

  "I got no worries—it's in the bag for me! Cuz I’m silky smooth in the room and a stunna in bed…” I moved towards the velvet feature wall, as I admired Pharaoh’s insignia on the wall up close. “Where I’m from, I was already the undisputed heavyweight champion. But I’m up for goin’ twelve rounds if I need to."

  Pharaoh smiled at the retort. "Okay, Rocky, we'll see…"

  "It’s a hard…” I clicked my tongue to the roof of my mouth and mimed a fuck motion. ”…knock life for us, fa sho! Come on princess, you know how it go…”

  “Ooh!” Suez and Midi began to snicker at Pharaoh together.

  “I don’t know Pharaoh, you might be looking at a TKO bro-ham.”

  “It don’t look to good for ya.” Midi took the spliff and Pharaoh began to feel the effects as she slumped into her seat.

  “All I know is that I’m a proven bet and you still a rookie—fresh out the gate.”

  “Okay vet, we shall soon see.” I smiled and moved back towards the sofas. “But Pharaoh, check this out—Suez probably pullin' more than both of us combined, on the low. She might be the underground champion of Cloud9.”

  "You know how I do...”

  "That's only cuz I'm in the booth most of the time, otherwise I’d hold the title ...” Midi exhaled smoke and passed the blunt to me.

  “Speakin’ of the booth, I better get my ass out there and start spinnin'...”

  "Yeah, quit sleepin' on the job... or else we might have to have you replaced...”

  "Shut up, fucker." She punched Suez in the arm then ran to the door, while we all laughed.

  "Ow, pinche punto! I’mma git you later for dat, homes!" Suez grabbed her arm and flipped a bird at Midi, as she ran out the room.

  "Get dat money, playa!"

  "Always, kinfolk!"

  I passed the blunt to Suez, took a deep breat
h, and began to relax my spirit.

  “I can’t wait to check out dat sweet studio Prima setup in your crib, Silk.”

  “You know, I’mma be in there as soon as Cloud9 is over, papa.” Suez looked over at Pharaoh. “I ain’t even seen it yet.”

  “Man, it is sweet. I think I’mma hole myself up in there and just learn everything there is to know about it. I’mma fuck around and be a super-producer by the time I’m done wit it.”

  “…And I’ll be jetting there every other weekend. We could fuck around and start a label on the low or sumthin’.”

  “I can dig it. Just make sure you bring some of those sweet guitars, so I can fuck wit ‘em, too. The sky’s the limit, and man, you invited to jam anytime you want. ”

  "You know what! I'm glad that Prima brought ya'll in because it was getting plenty lonely around here. Sheik is cool and all—I mean she's my best friend. We got a lotta history, but we don't have much in common these days. She can be a bit of a Bertie big bollocks—you know —a bit cocky…”

  "Shit! Just a bit?"

  "Right...” Suez looked at me in agreement.

  “She pretends it. She puts on a great show. But sometimes I just wanna relax—you know?"

  "But you can have any beautiful femme that you want…take your pick, lay back, and relax. Not to mention the mad cool team you got out here.”

  "Lord knows I fuck like a dog in heat, but even that gets old and cold sometimes... sometimes I just wanna wake up with one femme and go to bed with the same one...a flower who can take this life and be down wit me at the same time... and then hang and jam wit a few cool studs and stallions—without all the drama...ya know...”

  "Why, Pharaoh, that's some of the realest shit I've heard you say yet.”

  "…almost too deep—that might be the sticky talkin'.”

  "Since we all shootin’ the shit, I think both of ya'll might be some of the coolest studs I ever met—real talk. And don't tell her that I told you, but NinaStarr is diggin' you real deep.”

  " Ooh…I ALWAYS had a thing for NinaStarr…I'm gonna have to file that away until the time is right…”