Urban Love Is

by Erick S. Gray

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

For some, love starts with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends in tears. For four friends from Queens, it's about to get complicated …
Best friends Terrance, Trey, Ash, and Devin grew up together in Queens, New York. While bonded by friendship, can they count on each other when life gets heavy and their complex love lives threaten the very essence of their being?
Terrance married young, leaving behind his player days for unconditional love. After five years of marriage, the hard-working family man feels that his world is perfect—until he discovers otherwise.
Trey is a ladies' man who wants to have his cake and eat it too. Old habits die hard, but will he ever experience the happiness he deeply desires, or will he keep the carousel spinning?
Meanwhile, Ash is coming home from prison. He has a lot of catching up to do—with the ladies, that is—and he wants his boys to join him for the ride, just like the good old days.
Devin believes in monogamy—not loving a thousand different women, but loving your woman a thousand different ways. He's in love with Danielle and believes he's found true love. Is it real, or merely an illusion?

Release date: August 3, 2021

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Seven Years Later

Sex in the morning. It didn’t get any better.

“Aaaah, baby, right there. Don’t stop. Yes, right there, Terrance. Oh, God. Oh, God. Ooooh,” Sophia cried out lovingly. Her moaning was music to my ears.

I was primed between her thick thighs, licking and sucking on her clit with my mouth and tongue, playing with her pussy and tasting my wife’s juices, lapping it up like water from a fountain. She squirmed all over our bed, moaning like a siren as her fingernails tightly seized the back of my head. She was in full heat, ready to explode. She couldn’t let go, and she held my head steady between her legs, winding and lifting her hips. She huffed and puffed. “Oh, God. Umm, ugh. Umm, ugh. Yes!”

Eating pussy in the early morning was what I loved to do. Sophia didn’t complain. The only gripe that came from her mouth was, “You gonna make me late for work!” But she didn’t take the initiative to try to stop me. She panted and squirmed and praised my sweet gift as my tongue tunneled its way deep inside of her. Her tight grasps went from the back of my head to the bedroom sheets. As the sheets became scrunched inside her fists, she turned her head to the side and cried out, “Oh, shit! I’m gonna come!”

Her mouth was gaping.

Seven years of marriage and our sex life was still great, fucking exhilarating. On certain mornings, we would take turns on each other. I would wake up to a blowjob from her, and she would wake up to some sweet cunnilingus. It was like giving each other a unique wake-up call. And what a wake-up call we would give to each other. There was nothing better to start your morning off than having sex. Y’all twisting and turning sexually like a pretzel, and then coming like a geyser.

“I’m gonna come!” she huffed again.

I continued to eat and eat. Sophia’s passionate cries echoed off the bedroom walls and traveled like thunder inside the room. She could get loud and wake the baby. Yes, we had a daughter. Her name was Zaire, and she was 5. Born in Jamaica Hospital—six pounds and eight ounces—she was my world, my bundle of joy. Sophia went through twelve long hours of labor trying to deliver her. We named her Zaire because it was a unique and beautiful name for a girl. I remembered looking at my newborn daughter for the very first time and falling in love with her. When the doctor gently placed her into my arms, wrapped in her receiving blanket, I smiled so widely that my ears had gotten wet. My fatherly instincts kicked it, and I wanted to love and protect my baby girl. I was a proud father, and it was the happiest day of my life.

I had kissed my wife and thanked her for the best gift in life—a daughter. She did great. She was exhausted and depleted from giving birth, but she was a mother and a happy woman. And finally, I felt that my family was complete. I kissed her once again with Zaire in my arms and said, “We did it, baby, we did it!”

Sophia had stared up at me and said, “I love you. I love us.”

I never wanted the feeling to end. My wife, my daughter, they both were my world. And when I saw them together, I had said to myself, heaven finally reached earth.

Sophia finally came in my mouth, but I continued to eat, ensuring I cleaned my plate below. She couldn’t take it anymore and tried to pull away from me, but I playfully grabbed her in my arms, and we wrestled naked on the bed. The morning was fun, and though she would be late for work because of me, it didn’t matter. We were still in love, right? Our marriage was absolute bliss.

She finally managed to escape my hold and jumped off the bed. She had to get ready for work. “I hate you,” she playfully said to me, and then she ran into the bathroom and closed the door.

I smiled, saying, “You know you love it. There ain’t no man out there who can do you better than me.”

“How you know I ain’t been looking?”

“Please. And fuck up a good thing at home?” I said.

She chuckled. I knew she was kidding. She’d better be. I rested on my elbows, lying buck-naked across the bed. I was in an excellent mood this morning. I was off today, and Zaire was spending the day at her grandmother’s, which meant that I had the place to myself. But that wasn’t the only reason why I was in such a good mood. My boy, Ash, was getting out today. He’d done seven years in an upstate prison for possession and assault, arrested the night I married Sophia.

Fucking ironic.

But he was finally coming home.

Sophia spent thirty-five minutes in the bathroom, getting herself dressed and ready for work. She had to be at work at eight. She would usually leave the house around six forty-five or so, giving herself ample time to reach her job early. She worked at Chase Bank in downtown Manhattan. She’d been employed there for about two years now, and she loved her job.

I worked at the airport, American Airlines in JFK—John F. Kennedy Airport. I’d been working there for the past five years now. It was full time with excellent hours and attractive benefits including health, a credit union, and a 401(k). I loved my job. I loved working on the planes—loading and unloading cargo and luggage, cleaning the planes, and guiding them in and pushing them out. Sometimes I felt that I should have been a pilot. But I made a decent paycheck, and I lived a sober life. I supported and took care of my family to the fullest.

I’m a good man, right? I know I am.

While lying on my bed, I spun over and stared up at the ceiling. I thought about my life and marriage. At first it had terrified me. I remembered thinking that I had to commit to one woman for the rest of my life. Damn! Could I do it? Was I able to do it? Yes, I was scared. I was afraid of fucking it up. I was scared that she would leave me. Then she became pregnant. I nearly hit the fuckin’ roof. We were about to have a baby. Were we ready for a baby? If we were or weren’t, we needed to get prepared either way because this baby was coming in nine months whether we liked it or not. I was getting used to the married life, and now I was about to become a father. But it all was such a blessing, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Sophia came out of the bathroom dressed for work. She sported a white stretch cotton-poplin shirt with French cuffs and a shirttail hem, and a pinstriped skirt, wearing that businesswoman look. She looked great. Her hair was styled in a French bun, and she made me smile.

“Don’t forget to tell all your male coworkers that you’re a married woman,” I jokingly said to her.

She chuckled, playfully saying, “Damn, that means I’ll have to call off all of my affairs.”

“Yeah, you gonna have me go down there to shoot some fool,” I said.

I removed myself from the bed and walked toward her, naked, while she was applying some makeup to her already-pretty face and staring at herself in the bedroom mirror.

“Whatever, Terrance. You ain’t shooting nobody,” she said.

“Baby, for our love, you think I won’t? I’ll go Terminator on a muthafucka for fuckin’ with mine.” I pretended to have a machine gun in my hand and shoot up the room.

“Terrance, I don’t need my husband and the father of our child in jail like your boy Ash.”

“C’mon, Sophia, let’s not go there. I’m not Ash.”

“Yeah, well, I hope not. I know you’re better than him.”

“Baby, let’s get off Ash right now, and let me get on you,” I said.

I pressed my nakedness against her body, wrapped my arms around her slim waist, and held her petite figure snuggly in my arms. I never wanted to let her go.

“C’mon, Terrance, I don’t want any wrinkles or pre-semen on my skirt right now,” she said, trying to pull herself away from my grip.

“Well, can I get a quickie?”

“Now you’re tripping. You’re definitely gonna make me late for work, talking that foolishness.”

“I ain’t tripping. I’ll just get at that sweet pussy after work.”

“You’re stupid. I’m out. I’ll see you tonight,” she said. She gave me a kiss goodbye. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Damn, tonight. I probably wasn’t going to see her until late tonight. Ash was getting out today, and I knew I and the rest of the fellows were going to hang out with our boy.

I knew Sophia would understand, even though I’d forgotten to mention that Ash was being released today. It’d been a long time since we were all together and got to hang out like the old days.

I couldn’t wait to see him again and catch up on things.

My day couldn’t get any better for me. I finally got my car out of the auto body shop on Farmers Boulevard—my prized burgundy 2000 Mercedes-Benz CLK 320, which I leased for $697 a month. Two weeks without my ride was torture for me. Some asshole had hit me from the back on Linden Boulevard, and then he had the nerve to try to curse me out, saying it was my fault. I’d wanted to knock his head off with the baseball bat I kept in my trunk. But I’d kept calm. I had insurance, and he had insurance too. So we handled the accident like gentlemen. There was no need to get into a fistfight in the middle of the street. Although having him hit my ride, smash up the back, it was like a man having sex with my woman. I was ready to go to war for mine.

But my insurance came through. It was excellent having full coverage.

Today was a bright, bright day for me. I had made up with my girl this morning. For about two hours we fucked our brains out, and she gave me some of the best sex in the world. We’d had a massive argument about a week ago—about what, I couldn’t even remember. My girl, Trisha, could be a bitch sometimes. But she was my bitch. And after being with her for three years, I somehow felt connected to her. She kept talking about marriage. But a man like me wasn’t ready for marriage. I wasn’t prepared to settle down. I was too young for that, right?

My day was the bomb so far: makeup sex with my girl, I got my Benz back, and today Ash was coming home. It felt like life was finally coming together for all my friends.

I took the day off from work. In my occupation, I was a CPA, a certified public accountant. It was great money, I loved dealing with numbers, and I loved making money. I’d gotten my bachelor’s degree in political science and business from NYU. I also had passed the Uniform Certified Public Accountant Examination with flying colors. I was America’s worst nightmare. I was educated, smart, handsome, and successful, and I drove a lovely Benz. I was a hater’s worst nightmare too. I had it all. And on top of that, I had a big dick.

But I wasn’t bragging.

It was a nice day. I had the top down and some Biggie playing, and I cruised through Queens. I was on my way to see this girl named Chica. We’d met six weeks ago after I had my umpteenth fight with Trisha. I’d needed to escape my girl. I went for a simple drive and came across Chica walking to the corner store on Farmers Boulevard. Before I could holler at her, some buster-ass nigga had started a conversation with her. I had climbed out of my Benz and noticed her looking my way as I entered the store. I knew she was interested in me. She looked aloof from the guy talking her ear off. I had purchased a pack of Newports and walked out of the store. She wasn’t talking to that guy anymore. She was on the pay phone. I contemplated, should I or shouldn’t I? Wifey had really pissed me off. We had broken up for the umpteenth time this year. And shorty on the pay phone was a cutie with a nice-size booty.

Why not? I said to myself.

I had approached her while she was on the phone. She saw me standing behind her and curtailed her conversation with whoever by saying to them, “I’ll call you right back.”

I asked for her name, and I told her mine. And from there we conversed. Her eyes told me everything, I had her undivided attention, and I had that pussy wet. She saw the Benz, the clothes, the good looks, and she wanted some of me. And I told her the truth about me. I already had a girl. Though we had broken up that day, Trisha was still my heart.

I wasn’t looking for another girlfriend in my life, just another shorty to kick it with here and there. Chica didn’t even care. She was down. I didn’t play games with sidepieces. I told them the situation straight up, no equivocation, no beating around the bush. You see, that saved me from the drama, letting these hoes know right off the bat about Trisha so there wouldn’t be any confusion about where they stood. She wasn’t the primary but the second in my life. Trisha would always come first, whether we were together or not.

These women didn’t care. They still wanted to fuck with me after that. They always wanted a piece of me. They were even willing to throw pussy my way, throw my dick down their throat, and appease me sexually. I didn’t need to lie to these hoes.

I parked in front of Chica’s grandmother’s place on Murdock Avenue in St. Albans, Queens. It was a cozy three-bedroom house with a front porch, colorful flowers planted in the front yard, and a manicured lawn. Her grandmother was a schoolteacher who’d taught math and science for over thirty years at the same elementary school in Brooklyn. She wasn’t home during the day. Chica would tell me to come by around eleven or twelve, and I would stay until about three that afternoon. It gave us ample time to do us—to fuck our brains out!

She was a young girl of 19. Her grandmother was a strict Christian woman. No boys were allowed in her house while she wasn’t there, and no boys were allowed even if her grandmother was home. Of course, Chica broke that rule repeatedly by a mile. It was fun sneaking around.

I exited my ride and walked toward the front porch. It was a quiet neighborhood. Most of the neighbors were at work, somewhere else, or in school. Not too many people were home this time of day. I rang the bell. I couldn’t wait to see Chica. I could only imagine what she would come to the door wearing this time. Last time she answered the door buck-naked wearing some pink house slippers. It turned me the fuck on.

I didn’t have to wait long. The door unlocked, then it opened, and there was Chica, not letting me down at all. She was nicely clad in a white collared shirt, opened fully, exposing those soft, perky tits of hers and a shaved pussy. She stood in a pair of stilettos while twirling her panties in her hand.

“Damn, Chica! You don’t be worried about the neighbors seeing you?” I asked.

“Fuck my neighbors. I’m a big girl,” she said, moving to the side and letting me inside.

“Yeah, I can see that,” I said, staring at her rawness.

Chica had it going on. She was a beautiful, freaky-ass young girl. She stood at five feet six inches and had long black hair. Of course, it was a weave, but it still looked good on her. She had a nice phat ass, soft, round tits that felt like cotton in my hands, and she had some of the darkest nipples I’d ever seen. She had thick brown thighs that felt like silk touching you. She was a soft woman with some good pussy. She also had the fullest lips I ever had seen on a woman with these enticing brown eyes. She had this sexy-ass attitude like, “I don’t give a fuck, I want mine, and I want it now.”

I walked into the living room, and before I could take a seat or do anything else, Chica jumped onto me playfully. She straddled me as I held her in my arms. She kissed me. Her naked skin felt so inviting, and I found myself growing hard.

“You know the deal, Trey,” she said. “You didn’t come here to talk. I’m so fuckin’ horny right now. I was thinking about you all morning.”

I grinned. “Damn, a brother can’t have a seat first?”

“Only if you’re sitting on my bed,” she replied.

I carried her into her bedroom, and I hurled her light ass onto the bed. She giggled. She gazed at me hungrily. There was no denying it. She was mine from head to toe, my personal sex slave. She positioned herself on her back and spread her legs for me with her feet propped in the stilettos she wore, showing off how clean and wet her pussy was.

“You gonna get it,” I playfully taunted. I started unbuckling my belt like she was about to get a severe butt whipping.

“You gonna spank me for being bad, Trey?”

“Yeah, with my dick,” I replied teasingly.

I slowly dropped my pants, then my boxers, and let my dick hang there for a while. It was eight inches and better. These ladies were not fuckin’ with me. I started stroking myself, and Chica loved that, seeing a man jerk his big, black, and hard dick.

“You like this?” I said, with my dick gripped in my fist. I gazed at her.

She stood up on her knees and moved toward me. “That’s a woman’s job, baby. Let me handle that for you,” she said. She removed my hand, seized my big dick in her small fist, and continued where I’d left off.

“Oh, shit. Mmm, yeah, that feels so good,” I moaned.

She jerked me off, unwavering. I moaned and closed my eyes, enjoying her touch, enjoying the way she slid her hand back and forth leisurely against my titanic erection.

“Lie on your back, Trey,” she said.

She pushed me, and I fell against her bed. My dick felt like a missile ready to launch.

“Damn, you got a big dick,” she complimented me.

I’d heard it plenty of times. It was still nice to know. She leaned into me, still working magic with eight inches of erection. I felt her devour me nice and slow. She was giving me some great head. I grasped the back of her head and raised my butt cheeks, trying to put the dick down her throat deeper. She was about to make me come.

“Yo, chill. Stop,” I uttered, defeated. I didn’t want to come yet.

Chica stood ready on her knees and smiled my way devilishly. Her freak was out and showing ultimately. I pushed her against the bed, onto her back. She spread her legs, and I wanted to fuck her raw. Every fiber inside of me wanted to feel inside of her without a condom. Lust was screaming at me, yelling, “Go ahead, nigga. One time won’t hurt.” But my conscience was telling me different. It would be stupid, idiotic. You don’t even know this girl like that. Think about AIDS and other STDs. I definitely didn’t want to bring anything back to Trisha. She would kill me. Seeing Chica in that position, her legs spread completely, and watching her massage her clit and finger her pussy, I went dumb and stupid. Fuck it, I told myself. Just this one time.

I climbed on top of her, ready to penetrate that sweetness. I suddenly heard her sigh.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“How come you don’t eat me out?” she asked.

“I told you, I don’t do that shit. I don’t eat pussy.”

“I’m sayin’ you can try it at least once,” she said dejectedly.

“Nah, love. I don’t even eat out wifey. No disrespect, but you ain’t no different,” I told her.

“But I be blessin’ you lovely, and you know it, too. Why you can’t return the favor?”

“Just be quiet and come here,” I said.

I pulled her by her legs and brought her closer to me. I knew once the dick was inside of her, she’d shut the fuck up about the subject. Chica didn’t resist when I thrust my big black dick into her raw, causing her to pant out and squirm underneath me. She clutched me tightly and shut the fuck up as I predicted. She was loud and chanting, loving the dick. We went at it for over an hour—doggie style, froggy style, her on top, sideways, the floor, the wall. Her bedroom became our sexual playground. Three times she came, and I was still working on my first nut.

It was great sex. It was so great that I didn’t want to pull out.

“Fuck me, Trey! Ooooh, shit. Fuck me, Trey!” she chanted.

She held on to me tightly, working her natural body against me, digging her nails into my back—damn it—leaving evidence behind. Trisha sees that and she gonna know another woman put them scratches there.

“I’m ’bout to come again, Trey. Oh, God! Right there, right there!” she hollered.

I was right behind her, feeling my orgasm brewing. Pull out. Pull the fuck out, I told myself. It was right there, close to an eruption. And then it happened. I exploded inside of her, and my semen went swimming everywhere. I grunted and howled while coming, as both our bodies shook vigorously from the aftermath. I damn near broke the bed by arriving inside of her so hard.

Damn, it felt so good.

I removed my sweaty, naked body from hers and exhaled, lying on my back, and now feeling that post-coital moment. Damn, I just came in this bitch. What the fuck! Chica assured me that she was on birth control, but what about that other shit. I knew that I had wilded out and lost power to lust. Her beauty, her curvy, naked body, her sexy thighs and sweet womanhood, it was entrapment. How could a man like me resist?

Another deep sigh followed by another, what the fuck?

I got up and got dressed. I got what I came for, and there was no need for me to linger in her bedroom or in her grandmother’s home. Besides, it was getting late, and I had things to do. Chica wanted me to stay, but she knew the routine. We weren’t boyfriend or girlfriend, and there was no romance. It was just sex, nothing else. If I started staying longer and getting comfortable, treating her any differently and having pillow talk with her after sex, then she was gonna start to think it was something else with us. I left. Deuces.

Today had been a great day so far, and tonight, I was going to chill and hang out with the fellows. Ash was coming home today, and we all needed to catch up on lost time.

I couldn’t decide between the white roses or the red for my sweetheart, Danielle. Today was our first anniversary. It’d been one year now since we’d been together. I felt that I was the happiest and luckiest man on earth. Danielle was a sweetheart, my honey pie, and tonight, I’d planned something so wonderful for her. I left early from work just for this occasion so I could give myself ample time to make our evening together perfect.

I bought her this nice platinum princess-cut engagement ring, which set me back $1,500. But hey, she’s worth it. Then I had the florist arrange to drop off a bouquet of roses an hour after she got home from work. I bought the Maxwell CD so it would be playing as she walked through the door.

I wanted to ease her mind a little while giving her the exotic foot massage, rubbing her shoulders, and whispering sweet things in her ear. I was making dinner tonight. It was a romantic candlelit dinner just for both of us. And after dinner, I planned to pop the question to her. I was going to get down on one knee at the dinner table, take her hand in mine, show her the ring, and ask, “Will you marry me?” while the Maxwell CD was still playing softly in the background. Sometimes I surprised myself. But I felt that tonight was the night, no kidding around. I loved this woman. I loved her so much that I wanted to grow old with her.

I couldn’t help but feel a little excited. I couldn’t wait to see the look on my lady’s face when she came home from work to see what I’d put together just for her. After dinner, I planned on carrying my woman into the bedroom to make love to my fiancée from dusk to dawn.

I carried the gifts to my car and placed them carefully into the back seat. I drove off to my next destination, which was home. It was only four ten, and I had plenty of time to do what I had planned to do.

As I was driving down Sunrise Highway, I heard my cell phone go off. I looked at the caller ID, and it was Terrance.

“What’s up?” I hollered.

“Yo, you still on for tonight, right?” he asked.

“Tonight?” I had not a clue what he was talking about.

“Ah, man, you done forgot, Devin? Yo, Ash is home today. We all plan to head out to Eightball around nine tonight, get our party and drink on,” he said, sounding excited.

“Ah, man, T, tonight? Shit, I forgot Ash was out today.”

“But you’re coming, right? It ain’t gonna be fun without the four of us being there, just like back in the day, dog.”

Damn, not tonight. I had too much planned for tonigh. . .