Who Motivates The Motivator? Chapter 4: Sweetgrass (The Deadly Nine)

Sweetgrass Sweetgrass
Sexual Energy isn't Far Away. Sweetgrass

“I’m going to slip into something more comfortable” was the last thing that Dianne said after she disappeared into her bedroom after our heavy make out session in her kitchen.  I analyzed my surroundings–sunflower wallpaper on the kitchen walls, plants on shelves in the windowsill of wall-sized windows faced the back yard. The house emanated a cozy circa 1997 art-deco.  The sound of a doorknob broke the silence.

“Come here.”

Her voice beckoned.  As I approached her bedroom, I could smell a musty, yet soothing aroma, as if I was inside of a cedar box of loose tea leaves.  I pushed the cracked door open. The room was dimly lit, with smoke rising from a small bowl on her dresser, and various Native American appendages, such as a dream catcher above the head of her bed, a blanket with Hopi designs, and other things peppered about her room.

“Cool room– ”

I said looking about and nodding my head as if I were a home buyer intent on purchasing.

“–I’m going to report you to the national gallery of art for having all these artifacts.”

I continued, as I stroked a feather hanging from a talisman on one of her bedposts.

“Hehe—all the things you see here help to energize the room and keep it protected.”

She folded and put down the clothes she was wearing earlier and turned to face me.  I moved into her personal space.

“Protect you from what?”

“From dark energies.”

Dianne released one of her hair pins, and her hair flowed in a body wave.  She still had another hair pin in the shape of a flower over her left ear, keeping her hair over it. She whipped her hair back and forth in the spirit of one of those “Wash n’ Curl” commercials from the 90s.  I took her all in. She wore a purple nightie where the spaghetti straps daintily played on the far edges of her shoulders.

“Ahh I see—well there is only one thing to consider.”


“I am a dark man with energy, and I am now in your room about to possess you.”

Dianne laughed as she grabbed me about my waist.

“Well, that’s what the sweetgrass is for.”


“Yeah, it energizes the aura, so that when two people combine it preserves their proprietary energy.”

“I see.”


I said acknowledging her psychic mumbo-jumbo, but wanting to get down to the nitty-gritty of inserting my spear into her Muladara and shooting my arrow at her Swadhisthana.

I put my hands on her hips and held her at arm’s length. Her night gown was purple rain as it draped over her breasts as a waterfall cascades down unevenly around ledges of rock as it makes its way to the pool below. Her leg muscles were well defined and there was no tell of her body being in the realm of her 40s. Her legs made their way down to her pretty feet and toes—her toenails were painted purple.

“You like?”

She asked me as she tucked one hip to the side, her beautiful feminine shape causing a silhouette on her lingerie.

“Naw man—“

Her eyebrows curled with slight disappointment at my reply.

“—I  love it.”

Her eyebrows slowly uncurled and her white smile and perfect rows of teeth began to expose themselves to me. I caressed the sides of her face and drew her mouth towards mine. As I began to close my eyes, the image of her smile and delicateness was very energetic and youthful.  Except for the crow’s feet that played in the sand by her eyelids, she was as fresh as a hostess snack cake unleashed from its wrapper.

I gave her two quick pecks and then I followed up with my tongue. She gently opened her mouth to receive me and our heads swayed as we traded kisses.  I gave her a peck, then some more tongue, then another peck slowly closing my mouth and drawing her away. There was electricity in her kiss.  I opened my eyes before her to see her taking a deep breath then slowly opening her eyes in a meditative manner, the way Neo did in Matrix after he exploded Smith (pardon the pun).

She removed my shirt then pulled me back into her. As my skin made contact with the softness of her nightgown, my erection started poking against my sweatpants.  When she felt me against her she looked up at me and smiled, then gently caressed the outside of my bulge, causing it to grow more.

“I am way too stimulated; I gotta slow down my breathing…”

I said to myself as I tried to coach my mind into recognizing foreplay was not something to be into, but not be into, because I had way too much baby batter going for me. I should have did what one of my bottom-feeder friends told me he did before going to see a woman—pop one off real quick as not to become too aroused.

I kissed her on her neck then down to each of her shoulders. As I did I moved my hands across her smooth skin and I put each of my index fingers under the shoulder straps of her nightie, going back and forth from her clavicle to the back of her trapezius. As I did this I moved my hands outward from her body, bringing the straps over the edge of her shoulders. The goal was to disrobe her and let her nightie fall to the ground.  As I started to work the nightie straps down her arm, she put her hands on mine and moved them to up underneath her nightie to her ass. To my surpriseament (surprise + amazement) she had no panties on!

Holy Shit!



We engaged in kissing again as I was now getting palm fulls of her ass. What a great ass on a 45 year old.  Her skin was smooth, her ass was firm–she was a posterchild for Jiffy Lube—a “well-oiled machine”.  Her breath quickened, and she urgently untied the drawstring on my sweatpants.  I kicked them off as they dropped, maintaining contact with her.  My boxers were effectually draped over my meat like a lance with a battle flag hanging from it.

She started rubbing my manhood through the boxers and then she reached inside of my boxers as if she were looking to get cookies out of a jar.  She scratched my pubes a couple times before her silky hand slid to caress my entire length from my pubis to the tip. When she reached the tip of my dick she put her thumb on the end of it, covering my urethra.  Although I thought it peculiar, I nodded off any negative thoughts. She made a circular motion with her thumb. I opened my eyes to look at her to see if she realized she was painting my glans with pre-cum. She opened her eyes two and gave me a smile.

“Ooh, big boy is ready…”

She said.



The tip of her tongue caressed the left side of me, from the shaft to tip. Then she gave it a couple of sucks and tugs, then she moved her tongue from the tip down the right side all the way to the shaft.  This drove me wild. She took it out of her mouth and looked at it, then gently ran her fingers up and down my dorsal vein.  She attempted to repeat the whole jerk-suck routine again, but before she could get halfway down my length, I forcefully grabbed her hair and brought her Tootsie pop session to an abrupt stop. It jarred her neck a little, as if she had a bout of whiplash.


“Sorry baby—“

I said as I raised her to standing.

“—I love the way you’re pulling the lever on the slot machine…but I don’t want you to hit the jackpot before I can get your three cherries.”

I said slyly giving her a couple of pecks on the lips. I thought to myself: “Now that’s a creative way to tell her you don’t want to cum too soon”.

“Aw baby, you’re a considerate guy.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

I said pushing her down gently to the edge of her bed.  She propped herself up on her elbows and watched me as I humbled myself to my knees. I remember having a dream about eating her out, but I was about to do it in real life. And as I moved her nightie up to reveal the junction where her two legs met, my reality confirmed my dreams—she was not “bald eagle”, she was trim.  Her pubes were nicely groomed and edged forming a triangle shape that contoured her pubic bone.


As I tasted her love, I noticed that her flavor was not acidic. I hated bitches that before wanting to fuck (and expecting to get ate out) went to take a piss first. This annoyed me. I told one bitch, “When I go out to eat sushi, I don’t order lemonade.”  Dianne had a subtle mildly salty taste, and she had the viscosity of syrup after it has been heated on the griddle. She actually tasted pretty good.  Her moaning kept my hope alive.

“Umm baby, you taste good..” I told her as I tasted her treasure.

“Oh yeah” she barely eeked out



As I moved my tounge from the middle of her vulva to her clit, something got in my mouth. I put my index finger and thumb on the tip of my tongue, as if I was removing a mini fish bones during a trout dinner.  I looked at it briefly. It was one of those “little brown hairs” that Big Pun spoke of.  A product of her trimming and grooming—just like leaving the barbershop and getting hair on your pillow—this shit is bound to happen.  Although I paused for what I thought was a brief second, she seemed aware.

“What’s wrong?”

She said as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“Nothing babe, just  the —sweetgrass.

“Ah, I knew you would like it.” She said smiling.

“Yes babe.”

I said as I looked at her face over the horizon of her womanhood and nightie. I raised and lowered my eyebrows up like Piston Honda on Mike Tyson’s “Punch Out” and went back to town. I can imagine she only saw the top of my face. Yes she tasted sweet, and she kept the grass trimmed.

Like a hungry wolf I made my way up her body as I crawled from the foot of the bed up on top of her. I was a carnivore who made her cat cum with my canine cunilingus; and I fostered enough fortitude to resist succumbing to her feline felatio. I was crawling towards her on her soft mattress.

“C’mere babe—come to momma.”

She said with a look of satisfaction as we met eye to eye. She reached under me and started stroking my dick as I was kissing her.  I slowed her hands down and I rested my body on top of hers. She was still wearing the nightie. I moved to tug her nightie, but she grabbed my hands.

“I wanna keep it on.”

I nodded and smiled thinking it was completely hot. I felt a little like a schoolboy getting an afternoon lesson in sex education from a hot MILFY teacher.  I have never fucked a hot older woman this sexy through her lingerie. These are the things of porn. My ego took a boost. She hiked her hips up and guided me inside like a human dildo.

Holy Guacamole!!

I thought literally, because it felt like I put my dick into a feefee made with avocado as lubrication.

“Awww…” we both said in unison as if we were separated too long.

I started stroking her long and deep—her fingertips played along the valleys in my shoulder blades. I stroked her in between kissing her: stroke-kiss-stroke-stroke-kiss-stroke-stroke-stroke—whoa, I was close to cumming. Okay so do more kissing: kiss-kiss-kiss. I pulled out my what appeared to be a “slime covered snickers bar” and tapped it her clit. She squirmed as when did it, her hips wriggling.

“You like that?”

I said to her smiling.

“Yeah babe.”

She said pulling me in close to her and kissing me a couple times. I definitely needed a little break from being inside of her. I got past my edge, and now, I felt mentally prepared to go the distance. I decided to hit her with the deadly nine.

The “deadly nine” or the “nine strokes of death” is a sexual technique that uses the “entice-and-withdrawal” method of pleasing a woman. For the first three strokes, the man puts his dick 1/3 of the way in, then the second three, another 1/3, by the last three, fully inserted, then backing out 1/3 and repeating the pattern in reverse until the first 1/3 is just inside of her. I can be adjusted by more strokes and/or different levels of insertion. I like to start mine rubbing my tip between the top part of her opening and clit, then “dabbling” with the tip of my dick in her opening. What was playful for me was sexual torture and yearning for her.

As I made my 6th stroke I was just 1/3 of the way inside of her, and I could feel her using her heels to draw my butt in closer to her.

“Aww c’mon, stop teasing me! Give it to me baby!”

“You want it baby?”


“Are you sure?”


“Hmm, okay let’s see…”

I put my dick another 1/3 of the way in, but I didn’t give it to her all the way.

“Uhng! Why are you being so mean to me?”

She said as she quivered.

“You like it?”

“Oh yeah…”

“Hate to hurt ya’ but hurtin’ ya makes ya crazy..”

I said copying something I thought I heard LL Cool J say on his song Papa Luv It. She did a half sit-up and grabbed my hips attempting to draw me all the way inside of her. I stuck my hips back more until her little abs were too tired and she fell back to the bed in agony.

“Oh baby, I need it so bad…”

She said as I moved my dick 1/3 of the way out of her.

“This is what you get for being a bad girl–I’m gonna punish you—no dick for you…”

“No papa, please…”

“Then say I’m sorry—I’m sorry for being a bad girl.”

“I’m sorry!”


“I’m sorry for being a bad girl!”

I let my hips back a little, then thrust my whole length into her.


She shouted as I rammed her. I went in visciously, to the point she started pushing my hips back a bit. I continued my assault. I figured at this rate, one of us was going to blow. No sooner then I came to that conclusion (pardon the pun) she popped her head back and to the side and let out a deep moan and squeal—I felt more warmth and wetness between encompassing me. I slowed my strokes and moved in to kiss her gently on the lips and forehead. I still had some reserve in me just in case this was a false alarm.

“Did-you-cum-bae (“babe” in relaxed ghetto slang)?” I asked her gently kissing her in between words.

“—Yeaaah.”  She said taking a deep breath in and putting her hands on the sides of my face caressing my temples and ears gently.

We stared at each other for a moment, and her face was so peaceful. Then she pulled me to her and gave me a ton of smooches.

“Mmm, did you cum yet baby?” She asked me in between her kisses.

“Naw ma—I’m almost there, I wanted to make sure you got yours in.”

“Well momma’s about to take what’s hers now-“

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah—I want it all—every—last—drop. C’mere.”

She gave me a bodily queue that she wanted to be on top. She eased down on me and she started riding me cowgirl like a madwoman.  Then the time came when I could take no more—her nightie giving me a glimpse of the curvature of her inner thigh muscles and pubic area as she bounced up and down on me—the feeling of the occasional clinch her love muscle around me as she glazed my donut stick.  I felt a buildup arriving and I pulled her forward.

“Imma bouta buss baby.”


“Yeah? I want you to stroke it out of me babe.”

She took my order.  She tilted her body down until we were almost belly-to-belly, and she pinned my arms hands back, interlocking her fingers with mine. She started gliding with her hips in nice smooth strokes. She kissed my face and started sticking her tongue in my ear. I don’t know what it is with the tongue in my ear, but it sent a message loud and clear down my spine to my tailbone: “BUST OFF”.


I yelled as I exploded inside of her like confetti out of a gift box. In the process I squeezed her fingers so hard it was like a game of “uncle” gone awry. I held on for dear life.

“Ungh!” She yelled.

I didn’t let go right away because it felt like a never-ending flow of semen was gushing from me like a drainage pipe emptying floodwaters into a tidal basin. I don’t know if she moaned because she could feel me cumming, or because I broke one of her fingers. In any event, the revolution will not be televised–and for me the rapture had just occurred—the son of men had come again.



Facebook Comments