The Lone Wolf By Janine Hart

Not every wolf wants to be alone. Not every lone soul likes the solitude that is forced upon them.

Some, some want to be a part of a pack. A desperate but rebuffed plea to not be alone.

The life of darkness isn’t always chosen. Sometimes it is given. A gift unwanted. Rebuked. But inescapable.

We lie alone in the cold and die slowly in the heat. Ignored and forgotten because we don’t fit in.

We are always given the promise of love and acceptance only to be shunned and thrown aside.

We reach and grasp at human normalcy only to wind up turning the lights off again…

And no one notices.

The feigned smiles that haunt our faces. The brief hugs we wished lasted a little longer. The darkness we begin to embrace because the world is clearly telling us that’s where we belong.

That the light is for the ones fairer than you. The ones who shine. The ones who make you dim.

We hide and come out alone in the night. To howl at the moon our cries of loneliness and our want for something. Anything. That is real and stays.

We beg the universe in our shrill broken voices that one day, we won’t be, here.

That one day we won’t have to fake a smile.

That the people who we are around actually want us.

That we, one day, won’t need to be wanted.

Not every lone wolf is happy and not every lone wolf chose the darkness.

Sometimes it is given.

Unforgivingly and unapologetically.

And not every lone wolf survives.

Pleasure by: Janine Hart

I came to the door, not knowing what to expect. The note said knock. So I did. With an arrangement wedding getting to know your husband ahead of time was odd. The union was made in the hopes of strengthening both families. But he had called for me. He knew how these things were supposed to run, but yet he called for me.
He called with nothing but a note and a single rose. “A rose is strong and unyielding. Its roots hard to find and almost impossible to destroy. But, like everything else, the unyielding can be broken.” I’d scoffed when I first read it. ‘Sure’ I’d thought to myself. My curiosity taking over the feeling of him being arrogant. We’d met, of course, as children, then again as students, and now, quickly, as husband and wife. Again, this, was unwarranted. Unknown.
How he wanted to break me raced across my mind. He was always dark, mysterious,… and appealing. His strong chiseled features, his graceful smile, his carved oak body. I had to admit I wanted him. But his personality left much to want. Quiet, serious, overly organized, and boring. He was so scheduled he wasn’t human anymore. God, to spend a lifetime with him. “Patience leads to love.” My mother’s voice raises in my head.
My impatience grows. I knock again. ‘Why would you invite me to make me wait?’ I think to myself as I stand there in the outfit he requested, at the time he requested, in the mood he asked me not to be in. I started to leave, hoping my driver hadn’t, as I heard footsteps near the door.
“Yes Ayana? I’m sorry I didn’t move at the speed you needed.” Dea-mon answered the door curtly. “Come in.” he closed the door behind me as I ascended into the elaborate penthouse suite. “Allow me the pleasure.” He whispered to me as he softly pulled me from my coat. He hung it in a closet with precise care and turned back to me. He slipped his hand under my scarf and unwound it from my neck, breath catching with his ease and grace, as I became less and less covered. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my existence.” He paused and looked me over. I felt the need to present myself. I stood straighter as he moved closer and his breath lingered on my skin. I counseled my conscience, harboring my erratic breathing. I was a business woman, who was still in an arranged marriage, but none-the-less, a creature of my own control. This man shouldn’t move me this way. He moved away from me quickly walking towards his living room. “Come.” I move obediently, taking a seat at his vast table set for two.
“Why did you ask me to come here?” I ask taking a sip of the handmade Shiraz, the dry flavor washing over my tongue. I set my glass down making eye contact.
“I invited you as a means to give you a preview of what I want.” His face tight and strong.
“You mean for our marriage? I want a real conversation not mere unemotional nods. Is that going to be a maybe?” I ask hearing my mother again, “Never challenge your bull, always make him feel as a king.” He stared at me with a grave expression.
“Well, what I want from my life long sexual partner.” He moves towards me, his aura making it to me first. “There is mutual ownership here. You are not only my property but I yours. And I, require more than your videos can suggest.” I flushed a virgin blush as he spoke.
“I am to please my husband, so…”
He interrupted me, “No. We are to please each other.” He stepped closer his scent invading my nostrils again. Grasping me. “Stand.” Another command, that I obeyed either way. He moved around me and smelled my hair, fresh washed in lavender and honey as he asked. He exhaled with withdrawn desire. I felt myself tighten. My own desire awakened and overwhelming. He kissed me softly on my neck, beneath my ear, surprising me and heightening my arousal. “You smell unearthly.” He inhaled deeply again. I exhale sharply.
“Thank you.” I managed to sputter out. My dress seemed too tight all of a sudden. The soft silk hugged me as his hands slid down my hips and up my stomach. “This is bad.” I whispered between soft exasperated breaths.
“I know.” He whispered back. “But you’re already mine.”
“So, I can do with you what I please.” He softly growled into my ear as he ripped the silk open.
I inhaled sharply as my dress fell, dishonored at my feet. He seemed to take small pleasure in my labored breathing and unease. “Please.”
“Sir.” He responded strongly. “I will be sir. In casual setting I will be what you please.” I felt my necklace unclasp and heard it clatter on the hardwood floors of the empty suite.
I shivered in my newly found bareness and responded, “Yes sir.”
“I thought you would relinquish from me.”
“I thought I would too.” Confused as to why I was standing here vulnerable in front of this man I thought I detested.
“Good.” His soft lips caressed my skin as he lifted me in his strong arms. His heart beat against my shoulder felt exhilarating and new. His warm skin, welcoming, his hot breath wanted, his scent… needed.
His bedroom was lavish with a chandelier and woven silk golden canopies around his bed. He laid me down and quickly pulled away to turn down the lights. “I am a hard lover. Sometimes nothing more. But for you, I feel something deeper.” He slowly removes my stockings and garters. Moves up to my bra and then back to my panties. I relinquish power, for the first time in my life, to a man I will spend the rest of my life with. And in my fear I feel, peace. For once someone else will call the shots, someone else will carry the burden, someone else will be the dominant. I inhaled deeply, his now familiar scent catching my nose again, as I feel the satin sheets brush against my now bare skin.
“Will you love me?” he whispered, his hand trailing down my stomach to a spot nothing except cotton had touched.
I gasp as he touches me, “Yes,” my breath catching in my chest, “Yes.”
I can hear the smile in his voice as he continues. “I will love you until you beg for mercy.” I feel penetration. “And then I will continue no matter how much you plead.”
I moan as the first wave of ecstasy I’ve ever felt washes over me. “Allah.” I whisper, praying to myself that my head will stop spinning. The room slows.
“And you will say, ‘yes sir.’” He pushes again.
I arch, “Yes sir.” Sweat accumulating on my brow and my stomach tight.
“I will say, ‘whatever pleases you.’” He pushes deeper and I whine. A new pinch of pain mixing with my pleasure. He withdrew, shocking me and throwing me into desperation. I sat up, hair matted and a shine with perspiration.
“Can I have you?” he brushes his lips against mine and my eyelids.
“But it’s wrong?” he kisses my cheek, “But it’s too early?” he kisses my eyelids, “But it’s not you?” he brushes against my neck, “But you want it.” Our eyes meet as he brushes my now curling hair behind my ear.
“Yes.” I responded, “Yes sir.” I pled.
He pushes me down and slides a box from underneath a nightstand near us. The box was about 15in by 10in and deep. “Please don’t be scared. Trust me. Even the pain will be pleasurable.”
New sweat presses my skin. “Yes sir.” That feels nice coming from my lips. ‘Yes sir’ I thought to myself musing at his perversion.
“My God I love those words.” He glared at me sensually and opened the box.
First he pulled a long taut leather whip from the package. I shifted a little against his hand and his sheets. He grabbed my throat, however intimidating, softly in a show of dominance and held me to the bed. Second he pulled a vibrator. He smiled as my curiosity peeked and my eyes lit with excitement. Third, a pair of matching silk scarves. He pulls them out slowly and ties my wrists to the bedpost, taking care with each knot. The silk feels foreign and nice against my skin. Fourth he pulled a blindfold and condoms. “I would gag you, but the screams of a woman are intoxicating. And luckily we are alone.” Panic mixed with sheer enjoyment washed over my senses. “Trust me?” he asks again as he softly ties the blindfold around my head.
“Yes sir.”
I feel his weight shift and I lean in anticipation but receive surprise as the whip slaps against my thighs. “Fuck.” I whisper as I contain the sharp pain.
“You don’t have to be strong here.” He hits me again, I groan, “You can let go. No one will judge you.” He hit me harder this time I let out a shriek. He inhaled sharply, a sign of his appreciation to my receptiveness.
I’d never heard my moan or scream before and I tried to stifle the mixed flushes of pleasure and pain to no avail as I listened to my own voice fill the penthouse. He grows impatient and growls low as he puts the whip down.
“So wet for me. So willing.” He mused as he slid his fingers between my legs again. I whimper and he withdraws. I fill his breath close to my lips, his musky smell mixing well with the scents filling the ample room. “Have you ever come before?”
“No sir.” I respond embarrassed by my naivety to all things sensual.
“Good.” He lowered the humming vibrator to my want. I seized as the new pleasure caught me by surprise and lulled me closer and closer to uncontrollability.
“I want to see you.” He moved faster as I moaned and begged for release. He groaned again watching my climax grow inside me.
“Yes sir.” I sputter through broken erratic breaths. I feel something moving though me. A new wash of pleasure. As the intensity grows, my body tightens and my hips rise.
“More?” he asks moving faster and yet softly against my clit.
“Yes sir.” I beg loudly. “Yes. Yes. Yes sir.” I scream as my own orgasm shocks me and moves me past want to need. I hear foil rip and open. An empty package hits his soft carpet.
“Can I have you?” he pauses, “MY love?” His emphasis on ownership makes me blush.
“Yes, sir.” I inhale as I catch my breath and settle myself. He smiles and moves on top of me, spreading my legs and pulling me to him. “Wait.” I hesitate.
“Trust me?” he asks pausing, his thickness close to my want.
“Yes. Yes sir.” I respond, comforted by his deep kiss.
He plunges deep into me, a scream released from a depth inside me unknown. The pain rocks through me, crushes me, holds me and slowly turns to pleasure. I moan loudly. “Heaven.” He whispers.
He holds and moves my body in ways water couldn’t imitate. I give in completely and let him take me though pain, ecstasy, and feelings I don’t understand but would never turn away and when he finishes I am spent. His love was not gentle at all but it didn’t make me feel broken. I had never felt anything like this. Nothing had ever pulled me to the depths he had. Whips and bondage. My God what have I agreed to? But my GOD, what have I agreed to? I blush harder as my skin tingles. He lifts me quickly, the blindfold my only covering. I start to speak and his fingers slide against my lips.
“Not yet.” He slips my body into warm water and I relax into the folds of heavenly scents and silk water. “I will love you until you beg me for mercy.” He washed me slowly, I could feel my muscles relax as his hands moved over my now tender skin. “Can I have you?” he whispered as he looked deeply into my soul.
“Yes sir. Always.”

The Canvas by Janine Hart

Paint was splattered everywhere. Places paint should never be. How could she let this happen? Again? She sat in the window and stared down at his gaudy car. ‘God. What is wrong with me.’ She thought to herself as his scent wafted through the air. He was only supposed to come buy a painting. But he never just came to buy, he always wanted to play. It’s like he timed his visits from Europe with the exact moments her creativity lulled. He came in, suave, savage, and gorgeous, and made her mind swirl. She had to admit the paintings that were created beneath their naked sweating bodies were amazing. They were her highest sellers. And this one didn’t differ.
The multicolored bold lines swirled across the huge canvas in twisted intricate swipes of passion. Hand prints marked the changes in position or domination. The rips were marks of overwhelming ecstasy and hate. She loved to hate him and he knew. She heard him stir behind her, rising and moving towards her. She stared at the creation in front of her. She smelled his cigarette before she felt his strong painted arms wrap around her waist and tighten. He lightly placed the cigarette to her lips, the cherry bright in the dawns glow. She took a long drag as he pressed his lips to the back of her neck.
“You should go.” She whispered, pushing away.
“It’s beautiful.” He moved closer again.
She turned and caught a glimpse of his perfect naked body covered in reds and hues of gold, and as always alert and ready. She caught her stare and tried to keep eye contact. He smiled and put the cigarette out on the painting.
“We can make another.” He walked towards her and picked up a paint brush.
She tried to back away but a wall was her only solace. He moved closer and slid the paint brush across her soft nipples and down her firm stomach. She felt herself get hot. She tried to cross her legs but he had already found her. He slid his hand between her legs pushing them open and lightly teasing her with his fingers. His warmth awakened her again. He lifted her into his arms, holding her against the wall as he kissed her deep and long.
“Please.” She whispered as her breathing quickened.
“No.” he smiled softly as he pushed into her and her body gave way of reason and collapsed into his. He moaned deep and hard. He pushed deeper as she tensed and dug her nail into his back, splitting open old wounds and making new. He grunted into her ear before turning her around and pushing her over the kitchen table. Paint and water flew, dripping down to the hardwood floors as he pounded into her and she surrendered.
She pushed him back and turned around. She traced down his broad chest with her paint streaked hands. He smiled his devilish grin and pulled her closer. She followed him to the ground and mounted him. She slowly slid him back into her, ecstasy washing over him again as she began to ride him slow and deep. He pulled her down harder by her hips as his eyes began to slowly close. She obliged and rode him harder and faster. He could feel himself getting closer, his pleasure getting out of his control. His back arched as she dug her nails into his broad chest as her climax began to rise.
“Jesus I think I love…” She dug her nails deeper cutting off his sentence and coming down harder on him and pulling him closer to the end.
“I think I like your dick.” She moaned as her orgasm washed over her and shivered as it rose and fell. She waited till his eyes rolled in the back of his head and she was sure he was close before she slid off of him and stood up. “Take your paintings and leave the money by the door.” She turned back and smiled at his confused look. “I told you about that word.” She began to walk into her bedroom. “See you next month.”

Morning by Janine Hart

He groaned softly, waking to lips around his morning wood. “Damn.” he whispered. His love looked up and smiled with her eyes. She sucked harder and took him in deeper. “Well good morning.” He whispered softly as he brushed her long curls back. He was happy that he’d found his freak but she was pushing towards draining him. Every morning, evening, and night she was ready for him. Women usually couldn’t keep up, let alone surpass.

She slowly rolled her tongue around the thick smooth head of his dick. “Fuck.” He groaned and grabbed a handful of her hair. She slid him back into her wet warm mouth and softly caressed his balls. She continued to suck and tease him sending chills throughout his tired body. This had become his favorite time of day since she’d moved in with him.

He tried to focus as her expert tongue and mouth continued to bring him to the brink and violently pull him back. She hummed lightly as she took all of him in, the vibrations creating a new sensation he wasn’t ready for. “Fuck Fuck Fuck.” He whispered letting his head lay back on the silk pillows she’d forced him to buy. She kept humming, his receptiveness awakening her own arousal. She moved up and down as her soft hands rubbed his hard chest. He breathed in sharply as he met the back and middle of her throat. ‘God what is this?’ He thought trying to maintain his building ecstasy.

He pushed his hips forward, gripping her hair tighter as her sensual rhythm sped up. She moaned and groaned on his dick as she found her own wetness and began to explore. Together they created a heat that made the winter morning feel like summer. Her small fingers teased and touched her own want sending waves of pleasure through her making her shiver. Her moans sent intense vibrations through him bringing him closer to his own release. She sped up both of their ecstasy building to a much wanted climax. She moaned harder and moved her fingers faster and his need deeper into her throat. His back arched as his pleasure peeked. She reciprocated by inhaling him. He released deep into her tight throat as she swallowed and moaned, her own climax rushing over her.

She sat up and smiled at him, spent and glowing. “Great morning.” She said softly.

My First Taste by Janine Hart

Her hair felt good in my hand. A fistful of curls and color. Her cream skin looked so bright against mine and made me think of French vanilla iced cream and the second woman, mocha toffee. I moaned softly as Mocha continued to kiss my neck and move down my back, Vanilla continued to quench her thirst. ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ I asked myself. One woman was bad enough but two. I had stumbled upon something I knew nothing of. It scared me, but more, it thrilled me. Feeling her tongue, wet and able, between my legs, feeling her pull my hair as I moaned loudly. It was almost too much. I remembered leaving the bar but how I got here was still a mystery.

Mocha started to unzip my dress and Vanilla stood to help. They tore my clothes from me with a hunger I had only seen in men. When I was completely naked they stopped and stepped back. “Damn you’re beautiful.” Vanilla whispers as she slid a finger down my stomach.

“Isn’t she.” Mocha moves closer to me and smells my skin.

“Thank you.” I manage to sputter out between pants.

“No thank you.” They both say as their hands begin to explore my overly sensitive skin making their way to my wet wanting waiting pussy.

I moaned as Mocha slid a finger deep inside me. “First time with a woman? I still don’t believe you.” She moved her expert fingers slowly in and out of me almost making me beg.

“We promise to make you love it.” Vanilla whispers in my ear, her voice like warm honey, as she kissed down my back.

They moved me closer to the bed and softly laid me down. I had to admit, no man’s touch had ever made me feel this way. Every movement they made was in unison and sent chills through my body. I looked up as their hands withdrew. Mocha pulled Vanilla closer by her curly golden hair and kissed her deeply before tearing her sheer blouse open. Vanilla moaned and I felt my want intensify. Mocha let her dress drop to floor, satin and silk now in a mess among the other shredded cloth.

“Take her bra and panties off.” Mocha looked at me. The lust in her eyes and smooth deep voice made me tingle.

I slowly stood and moved to Vanilla. She inhaled, her eyes rolling, as my small hands rubbed against her smooth skin. I unhooked her bra and let it hit the floor. I bent down slightly and started to slide her lace crimson panties off. “Rip ‘em.” Mocha’s voice was hushed and heavy with anticipation. I smile a little as the excitement built. I gave the small sheath of fabric a hard tug, the lace ripping and tearing. This was all very new.

“Mmm.” Vanilla moaned low and smooth. She turned to face me.

I was now inches away from the sweetest scent I had ever inhaled. My mouth watered. My panties, long gone, would have been soaked by now.

“Go ahead. Taste.” Vanilla pushed my head closer softly.

I hesitated for a moment but the want inside me won and my tongue pushed forward with curiosity and thirst. Her head fell back and I felt a hand caress my wetness. ‘Mocha.’ I thought as she softly entered me pulling me deeper into ecstasy.

As Mocha pulled in and out of me Vanilla held my head in place. I moaned softly into her, she reciprocated with a shiver and held my hair tighter. My tongue softly explored her. She tasted like candy and smelled like honey. I was simply intoxicated. I could feel Mocha’s tongue caress me from behind. I tried to pull away but my moans were muffled by my second lover. With every stroke of Mocha’s soft satin tongue my tongue explored and plunged deeper into Vanilla. “Oh God.” She gasped. “This can’t be your first time.” She breathed to me as her climax built. I could feel her clench around my fingers as I pushed two deep inside of her. “Shit.” She moaned.

Mocha sped up and pumped harder into me as my own climax built and started to overwhelm me. When I thought I couldn’t focus any longer Vanilla began to shiver. I knew she was close. Her breath erratic, she threw her head back and grasped my hair tighter. “Oh fuck!” her scream filled the hotel room as waves of pleasure poured over her body. She breathed hard and shook as she came down from her orgasm and looked at me. “My goodness.” She leaned down and kissed me as I tried to hold my own pleasure back. “That tongue.”

Vanilla bent down and softly stroked my hard nipples. Her fingers light and sensual against my skin. Mocha’s well guided tongue continued to explore and tease as I trembled from the overwhelming ecstasy. Mocha stopped abruptly and pulled me to the floor, flipping me on my back and spreading my legs. Vanilla moved to my side and began to finger Mocha as she licked and nibbled my nipples. I reciprocated and slid back into Vanilla.

Our moans, a symphony, joined and heightened in unison as we all climbed towards a mutual climax. I tensed as a new sensation washed over me. “Oh God yes!” I screamed as I my hips moved back strong against Mocha’s tongue and fingers. Mocha’s climax was next, expressed with a low growl and moan that warmed my pussy and made me buck once again. And Vanilla finished our trifecta with sweet slow lull of pleasure.

We collapsed to the carpeted floor and our erratic breathing almost matched.

I shivered and looked at my two spent lovers. I smiled. “I guess now would be a good time for names.”

Inherited Beauty

As I sit here on the bus next to a beautiful chocolate woman, I notice two young boys across from me who mirror our situation. Light next to dark. The youngest is staring at us both, probably realizing how drastically different women can be. Especially women of color. Her light brown hair and chocolate skin, deep eyebrows, dark eyes and actually nice purple lipstick. Me light bright no makeup slicked back hair, and if I do say, glowing. Lol but it comes to mind, at what age do young men develop a sense of what is beautiful and what isn’t? Is it around the same age girls realize they are different and maybe not as pretty? And then as we age, men and women, children look at us and how we look and dress and build a mold on that. Now of course this mold changes over the years, your tastes, hopefully, become more refined and defined. With this in mind, as women, we shape what men later call beautiful. If they see a constant string of women who are wearing nails, weave, lashes, heels all the time,and makeup they may think of that as their beautiful. Or they could rebuke it completely and think the women who wear their hair natural (pressed or not), dress differently, no makeup or soft, and not always a supermodel are their beautiful. It’s fascinating how we grow in this world, and what we become through the years. We are like wine either we get better with age or…. not. All women are beautiful and that should be defined by yourself before any man. But we have to be careful what we portray to young men and boys with our beauty. Just a thought.