I wanted to move beyond one man, to men. The essence of them. Their urgency, their desire, their relentless push towards my femaleness, my breasts, my...mouth, my cunt, my anus. When I do take them, one after another, two at once, three at once, I imagine myself moving into another being, a body, a female in rut, a walking cunt. I agreed to the arrangements this man - I came to call him The Arranger - proposed. I sorted the responses, found six men that I thought might be right. The arranger had. Her skin was black as night but shone, how was that possible? She had lifted the covers and looked at his erection; it was clear he had no reservations about plumbing a black skinned woman. She hadn’t thought he had, but a woman at the market had made some spiteful comments that ‘why would he fuck coal when he can fuck pearls’. “Tematha, you can start at the top, I shall start at the bottom” was what he said. He wasn’t one to be lost in flowery speeches. He intended to enjoy her, and intended. More

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