Nookie: a Valentines Day Erotica

Tired of men never being able to see past her physical, the ethereal beauty, Nakoria Hampton, has perfected the craft of using men before they can use her. That is, until one Valentine’s Day night.This Valentine’s Day saga includes 3 parts:Part 1 & 3 by poetic hopeless romantic, Bien-Aime W., and part 2’s raw, witty, urban erotic storytelling by Candy B. Vixen.Her aura was intoxicating, as was the scent of roses that permeated the space around her.My words, let alone my thoughts, could and would never adequately weave the proper similes, idioms, appellations, hyperboles, or analogies fitting enough to justly describe the true essence of her beauty. “Pretty”, “gorgeous”, “beautiful”, “stunning” all paled in comparison to her true description.This celestial beauty, this divine work of art, this creation, obviously favorited by God and all of heaven, was hands-down the most angelic, divine, and strikingly attractive creation I’d ever been enamored by. Even the inflection in her voice sounded like sweet melodies.————————-“Is Nookie your real name?” Blair queried once I reversed and pulled off from ‘Vette’s driveway.“Wow. For someone I’ve just met for the second time, you waste no time getting personal.”“Oh…uh my bad.” He apologized. I glanced over at him. I could tell he was nervous now that it was just him and I.I playfully shoved his arm with my elbow. “Relax. I’m just fucking with you, gotdamn.”For the second time that night, he looked taken aback by my language. “You sure got a mouth on you.”“In more ways than one.” I shot back with a wink. I was used to this. Men tended to be so enamored by my “ethereal” and “angelic” or “wholesome” physical attributes, that they seemed to actually expect for me to carry myself as if I were the second coming of the virgin Mary herself or some shit. It was fucking crazy.“My government name is NaKoria Hampton. I was named after my granny, Victoria.”“Should I call you..Mrs. Hampton..or…I mean..you are my friend’s mom and all.”“Nigga, I’m only forty-five and a half years old. I ain’t that much older than y’all.”“So…what do you do for a living?”“What do you mean?”“Uh…what do you do for work?”“This an interview?”“My bad.”“But to answer your question: I don’t know what work is. I don’t do that.”That got a smirk out of him. “So you’re retired?”“Retired? Nah, baby. I’m semi-retired from dealing with bullshit. But trust, I still get paid. I just don’t punch nobody’s clock.”He chuckled and shook his head. “Damn. Must be nice.”