Closer Than You Know an 18 & over Story
By Marcus Colón
“Quinton! Quinton Holloway! Attention class, is there a Quinton Holloway present?” asked the middle aged college professor loudly. Everyone went quiet and an awkward silence settled upon the class. Suddenly the back doors to the auditorium style classroom exploded open and in walked the desired student. “Uh, I’m Quinton Holloway ma’am!” “So glad that you decided to join us Mr. Holloway,” the professor replied then added, “Why don’t you come down and delight with us the piece you submitted for the erotic poetry assignment.”
Quinton reluctantly walked down to the front of the class. All eyes were on him, most of which were those of the females in the class. And not because of interest in his poem. Quinton, a 19-year-old freshman at the historically black university, was built as if he was ripped right out of a modeling magazine. Six-foot-four with 240 pounds of chiseled muscle wrapped in dark toffee skin, Quinton brought thoughts of lust to the minds of women of all ages and walks of life.
Quinton cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and then began to speak. “Visual memories of your peach juice as it glistens on my face, haunt my dreams on many lonely nights as I rest on my cold sleeping place. I want to touch myself but I abstain. I must because when I am done I will again feel loneliness’ pain. So what can I do when I yearn for your love? What can I do when my body aches for you? I wait until I can have you in my bed so that we can enjoy what lovers do! It is then that we become one. It is then that with every thrust, we experience heaven until the love is done. Wow, is all that I can say because out of all of the words, wow, is how you make me feel everyday. Damn, baby when will you return to ease the pain in my loins? When will our two bodies lustfully join?”
The poem was short and to the point, but it was more of the way that the young man spoke that had the underwear of every female listener moist. Even the professor released a sigh as she fantasized about being the one to ease Quinton’s pain. The students gave a collective applause as the unsuspecting performer walked to a seat.
Later that evening, Quinton sat down in the student lounge to enjoy a slice of pizza. He then heard a familiar voice. “Hey Q! What’s up playboy?” He turned in his seat to see Keanu approaching him with a smile on his face. “Nothing much,” Q answered then added, “How was class today?” Keanu stopped in his tracks, placed his hands on his hips and replied, “Come on dog, you know how I do it!” He reached into his pocket and retrieved his semi-large cell phone. Quinton shook his head and said, “Yo, Keanu, you know that if they catch you recording one of the classes they are going to expel you! No questions asked.”
Keanu shrugged his shoulders as if to say that he was willing to take the risk, then sat down next to Quinton, who was now watching the rather large television by the wall. Quinton reached for the remote control and flipped the channel to a local sporting news program. He was hoping to catch the score from his favorite basketball team’s most recent game. It was then that he heard, “Hey, I was watching that sir!” Both males turned around to see the female sitting on a stool in the corner. She had been sitting there the entire time watching a talk show about 40-year old men who acted as if they were still a teenager.
“Oh, my bad. I didn’t see you over there,” Quinton replied then changed the channel back to it’s previous program. Keanu sucked his teeth which also garnered a, “Dog, she was here first. You know the rules. First come first served.” He looked back to the female who smiled and said softly, “thank you.” He was instantly smitten. When the program was done, the woman stood up and walked towards the exit of the recreation room, taking with her the attention of Quinton. He gave his friend some dap, quickly grabbed his backpack, and rushed to catch up with the beautiful girl.
“Uh, excuse me…miss!” he said as he walked up next to the girl. She looked at him, smiled then gave him the name he was searching for. “Paris, my name is Paris Lowe. And you are?” “Quinton Holloway. But most of my friends call me Q!” he replied. He grabbed her hand, gently motioning for her to slow down. But she stopped walking completely. “Well, I am going to call you Quinton, ok?” she answered. “Is that to say that you don’t want to be my friend?” he asked. “No, that’s to say that I actually like you full name better. If that’s not a problem with you.” He shook his head no, then she added, “Good. Now you can let go of my hand. Unlike your homeboy, there are some of us who actually go to class and don’t cheat the system by recording the lesson!” Quinton laughed loudly at the remark, then released her hand and asked, “Well, can I have you phone number, so that we can continue this conversation later?
Paris paused, looked at the man before her, then held out her hand to receive his cell phone to enter her number. She normally turned a lot of guys down, but for some reason Paris felt an instant bond with Quinton. When she handed the phone back, Paris said, “goodbye” and turned to walk away. Quinton couldn’t help but watch as her booty swayed with every step that she took.
Three weeks later, after a few dates and a lot of phone calls back and forth, Quinton finally got Paris back to his off-campus apartment. She had a pretty good idea as to what he wanted, but was still apprehensive as to whether she should give herself to him. He was handsome and well liked on campus. And that was the problem. Many of the women wanted a piece of Quinton and Paris had been warned by her father not to fall for the popular guys. They always ended up being the ones who wouldn’t be satisfied with just one woman. Paris usually followed her father’s advice, but as she looked into Quinton’s eyes, she didn’t see a cheater. She saw the same thing that she admired in her father. A man that was smart, kind, and sweet. Courteous in every way, Quinton was not only a man that was handsome, but he also had the mind and conversation to go with it.
As they entered his apartment, Paris officially decided that she was going to go against her father’s advice and sleep with Quinton. “You want something to drink, baby?” Quinton asked as he removed his shoes at the front door, then walked towards the kitchen. “Yeah. Some juice if you have it,” she replied, walking towards the couch and taking a seat. Paris removed her shoes, then flipped on the television. When she saw that the station was on sporting news, she smiled remembering the first day they had mad. She was sitting in the corner of the student lounge watching her favorite talk show, when the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life walked in. She never told Quinton, but after he walked into the lounge, her attention was no longer on the TV. She was enamored with him and sat there lusting about him the entire time. Paris had tried to figure out a way to speak to him, so when he changed the channel, it gave her the excuse she needed.
Quinton entered the living room and handed her a cup of cranberry juice. Taking a seat next to his new girlfriend, he wrapped his arm around her ad turned the channel to a movie already in progress. Paris snuggled up closer to him and relaxed in his arms. Halfway through the movie, Quinton decided that it was time to make his move. He let his arm slide down to her back, then rubbed there for a minute, waiting to see if she was going to stop him. When she didn’t resist, he slipped his hand into the back of her jeans feeling on her soft derrière. She looked up at her man as they kissed. Their tongues touched and she became light-headed because he kissed with soul-stirring expertise. Quinton enjoyed the softness of her lips for awhile, then decided to take her to his bedroom.
When he lifted her up off of the couch, she felt happy that she wasn’t going to have to be the one to mention that their first time together should not take place on a couch. He carried her into his bedroom and gently laid her onto his bed. He stood to the side of the bed and removed both his tee shirt and tank top in one swoop. Paris looked up at his stomach and licked her lips, admiring the six pack that looked as if someone had chiseled it out of stone. She sat up, kissed him gently right above the waistline of his jeans, letting her tongue linger there for a moment. Quinton reached down and pulled Paris’ shirt over her head. She reached behind herself and unhooked the clasp of her bra, then removed it to reveal her ample breasts. As he massaged her breasts, she reached for his belt buckle and unhooked it. Quinton’s baggy jeans fell to his ankles, leaving nothing but his form fitting boxer briefs. Her eyes felt as if they wanted to jump out of their sockets when she saw the outline of his erection barely being held in place by his underwear.
Before Quinton, Paris had only been with one other guy. And he, by no means, was as large as what was in front of her at this moment. She closed her eyes and kissed his manhood through the thin fabric. Quinton got down on his knees and reached for Paris’ tight jeans. When he unbuttoned them, he slid his fingers under the elastic waistband of her panties, and then removed them along with her jeans all at once. Completely nude, Paris moved back onto the bead and allowed her man to climb on top of her. They kissed again, but this time with more passion. He was hungry to become one with her and it showed in the way his lips touched hers. He ended the embrace and moved to her breasts. He was tempted to rush and bypass the soft mounds, going straight for her increasingly wet pussy. But he took a deep breath to calm himself and began to pleasure Paris’ tits. One by one, he sucked, licked, and nibbled on them until Paris began to breathe faster and faster.
He moved down to the top of the V that led to her pussy, letting his warm tongue play and tease there for a moment. Paris began to move her hips up and down, her body telling him that she wanted him to move further down. Quinton obliged his lover. He dropped down further, his long tongue brushing on her dripping wetness. Paris moaned in pleasure as Quinton buried his face into her sweetness. She spread her legs open as wide as she could and Quinton licked with intense fervor. His coarse tongue massaged her clit and Paris’ body went rigid with intense pleasure. Moments later she moaned loudly as she began cumming harder than she had ever done before in her life. Quinton smiled, grabbed the corner of his sheet and wiped his face with it. He straddled her, then placed the head of his throbbing dick to her hole and rubbed it there for a few moments. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in to kiss her. He simultaneously thrust himself into Paris, causing her to end the kiss and bite down on his shoulder. She felt as if she was being opened up, but it felt so good. He grunted at her snug fit and began to stroke her pussy slowly, going deeper and deeper with every thrust. After the first insertion of his manhood and getting beyond the slight sting of having her pussy stretched, Paris began to move her hips in tune with his. Their bodies moved together for almost another hour until they both orgasmed and laid on the bed, sweaty from the encounter.
The two lovers dated for another six months until their spring break vacation came around. They were also from the same hometown, so when they left school to go home, they made promises to hook up after they got settled in with their families. Excited to introduce her new man to her father, Paris entered his home office two days after getting home. “Hey daddy!” Paris said happily, giving her father a kiss on the cheek. After a few minutes of small talk about her grades in school, Paris brought up her new boyfriend. Like any father, Mr. Lowe listened with apprehension and skepticism. When she got done portraying every good characteristic about Quinton that she could remember, Mr. Lowe could tell that his only daughter was really into this guy. “He sounds like a really nice young man. But there is one thing that you failed to mention. What is his name?”
“Oh, wow, daddy!” Paris giggled softly. “His name is Quinton Holloway.” Upon hearing the name of Paris’ boyfriend, Mr. Lowe’s eyes grew large. His heart felt as if it dropped down to his feet and was being walked on. Rather than jump to conclusions, he kept calm and asked, “Do you have a picture of him?” Paris nodded yes, pulled out her key chain and showed her father a photo of her and Quinton at an arcade near their school. Mr. Lowe looked at the photo, which confirmed his fear. He grabbed the photo, stood up and spoke as forcefully as he could, “I don’t want you seeing this guy anymore. I know his family and these people are not the type of folks that you want to be involved with.”
“Daddy, you have got to be kidding me,” Paris said standing to her feet. “The first time I talk to you about a guy and before you’ve had the chance to meet him, you prejudge him. You don’t even know him!” “Listen to me, baby girl. I am right on this one. He’s not good for you. So I forbid you to see him!” her father replied loudly. Paris stormed to the door with tears falling from her eyes. She turned to her father and made one last statement, “I would hope that you would trust me to be a good judge of character. You raised me right and I know a good man when I meet on. And just in case you wanted to know, he’s a lot like you. That’s why I started dating him!” She stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Mr. Lowe stood up and started to go after her, but decided to give her time to cool down. Instead he went for a drive in hopes of being able to come up with a way to convince his precious child that she was making a grave mistake.
Quinton wasn’t having any more luck than Paris. The same night that Paris had a fight with her father, about an hour later, he was also having his own family battle with his father. “She looks like a slut and a whore!” Mr. Holloway said as his son showed him a photo of Paris. Quinton was appalled. If the man sitting in front of him wasn’t his father, he would have punched him directly in the face. Mr. Holloway continued, “I know of this girl and her family. And if I were you, I would cut all ties with her!” Quinton sprang up from his seat at the dinner table, knocking his chair over. His mother spoke, “Quinton, calm down baby, you know your father means well.” He looked at her and replied, “Mom, with all due respect, he is a fucking jerk and I wish he wasn’t even my father! I can see why you never married him!” Quinton stormed off to his room and instantly started to pack his clothes. Mr. Holloway walked out of the house in hopes that he had deterred his son from seeing Paris, but he was mistaken.
Later that night, Paris and Quinton met up at a local park and after deciding that their families were wrong, they rushed home to gather up their belonging and drove the eight hours across the state to Quinton’s apartment. The next morning, after a long night of passionate love making, Quinton rose up from the bed to find that he was alone. He walked to the bathroom and found Paris kneeling in front of the toilet vomiting. He held her hair back to keep it from getting soiled. When she was done, he asked, “Are you ok, baby?” She rinsed her mouth out and solemnly replied, “Q, I think I’m pregnant.” Quinton sighed and said, “Go ahead, grab a shower and get back in bed. I am going to run to the store to buy you a pregnancy test.”
Ten minutes after he left, there was a loud knock at the door. Paris eased out of the shower and opened the front door saying, “Babe, how many times have I told you not to forget your keys?” She began to give her man a hug, but stopped cold in her tracks. “Paris, you need to get your stuff and come with me right now.” Mr. Lowe was at the door and he was not happy. “Daddy, you are my father and I love you. But I have made a decision. I am going to be with Quinton whether you like it or not. And you should know that I might be pregnant with his child. He’s going to the store as we speak to get me a pregnancy test.” Mr. Lowe’s heart sank. He felt sick to his stomach. He walked into the apartment and dropped down onto the couch. Before Paris could speak more, Mr. Lowe spoke, “It’s ok if you’re pregnant. We’ll just get an abortion. So hurry up before he gets back!”
Paris’ eyes began to swell with tears. She had never thought that her loving father would even suggest such a thing. She ran straight to the bathroom and locked herself inside. She sat on the toilet breathing deeply in as an attempt to calm down. Minutes later, she heard the front door close and the Quinton and her father started arguing. She was going to wait for the commotion to die down before she emerged, but when she heard a rumble followed by a loud crash in the living room, she came out to see what had happened.
Entering the room, Paris saw her father and Quinton tussling on the floor. The two men rolled and stopped by a wall with Quinton ending up on top. “Don’t hurt my daddy!” Paris yelled as she ran up to them. Quinton looked up from the man he was on top of and spewed, “Baby, I understand that you probably want him to like you, but you wouldn’t be calling him daddy if you heard what he called you the other night.” “Shut up! The both of you need to just shut up. Just be quiet, before this thing gets out of control!” The father said, struggling to his feet as Quinton got up from on top of him. “Paris, you go get your belongings and go to the car. Quinton, I will explain everything to you later,” he said, brushing his clothes off. “Daddy, I already told you that I am not going anywhere with you.”
Quinton stood next to Paris and asked, “Why do you keep on calling him daddy, when he is my father?” Paris stepped away from Quinton, squinting her eyes in a horrified shock. “What do you mean YOUR father? This man is MY father! Mr. Michael Lowe.” “No, he’s not. He is MY father, Mr. Michael Holloway!” he said confused as to what was going on. They both turned to the man who they thought was their father, but he was gone.