C|Suite is a men's magazine founded by Frank Cervi. It combines urban/office life-style articles with soft-core pornographic pictorials. In recent years, C-Suite introduced the 'letters' column in which readers send in borderline ridiculous sexcapades, resulting often in explicit and unnecessary detail.
Running The Love Train
The name is Delong D. I am an international love man, Soundcloud rapper and sex machine. Many have assumed spring to be my favorite season, the season in which I feel most on my game.
Others have sought it to be summer, when the women are at their finest, most titillating. Or winter, when the weather is so damn cold you must hold your girl tight to stay warm. These people do not know me, Delong D and my most intimate thoughts on the seasons.
For this love machine, autumn is the best of seasons.
Autumn is a time for steamy spiced wine, lounging on soft fur in front of a roaring fire, stroking your girl’s hair, the fur, her fur, and pleasing that booty. However, in order to squeeze every last ounce of juice from the ripe, plump berry of autumn, we must sadly leave the city I love so much.
You and I, girl, we must leave the fine and expensive restaurants, the bumping clubs with the $20 Gin Rickys, and the after-hour cocktail lounges that require you to be friends with the owner. We must leave all of these things behind to go upstate; this is where the pleasures of fall truly come alive.
This also allows me, Delong D, to take a special girl on a train ride. A long, smooth ride that will surely get your autumn juices flowing. Trains are, after all, the most erotic way to travel— Even more so than boats or planes.
Let me break it down far y’all.
I, Delong D—International love machine— will arrive at your stoop in a pearly white limo and pick you up from the two-bedroom apartment that you share with your cousin, who, while also fine, is no match for you and that juicy booty of yours. Delong D, me, will take you away from a life of cramped spaces, Eggos for breakfast and lonely nights of trying to quietly masturbate in bed.
While we are being driven to the station by my main man in the stretch, we will sip from the bottle of the finest champagne I can afford: Korbel.
The finest under $15 champagne my money can buy.
My baby gets the good stuff. We will sip this champagne from crystal glasses and look into each others eyes. I will say things like, “I love how the autumn light reflects off your Afro Sheen,” and “Your shoulders look especially fine today.”
My word-smithing that I picked-up at an English seminar during my stint at University of Phoenix Online, will turn you on.
Once we reach the station, I will carry your bags to the train. These bags will surely be heavy with all of your hair products, clothing, toys, and feminine hygiene products; at no time will I struggle; Delong’s back is a strong one.
Soon we will arrive at our private train car and settle in. Once the train begins its journey into the crisp autumn afternoon, we will hold hands and gently fondle each other’s private parts as we look out the window, marveling at the fall scenery back-dropped against the ghetto.
We will start talking about everyday things—how many records I’ve sold and how you use to be a crack-addicted stripper—but then our conversation will deepen, like my love for dat booty.
I will even open-up about my past relationships and the difficulty I had with my mom. The display of emotional intimacy and vulnerability will bring us closer. It will also make you want to ride my pony right there on the floor of our luxury, Amtrak train car. You will do this.
We will gently fall asleep in each others arms, tired from you dick-riding my pony and draining the effluence from my big Black sac. We will wake up from our sensual stupor as the train begins to pull into the quaint, sun-dappled town that is our destination. We will arrive at dusk so everything about this village will appear to be magical and special, just like you, and dat booty.
After a short ride from the station, we will reach our romantic Bed & Breakfast: A Motel 6 adjacent to a Waffle House.
The elderly people who run the Motel 6 will be taken aback by the level of passion emanating from our two, post-coitus bodies. They have seen many lovers come through their doors, but it will be very clear from their faces that we have brought a new level of romance to their establishment.
We will arrive at the room and the motel owners, while old, will have remembered and made good on all my special requests: silk sheets, MP3 player playing Khalid and many, many candles and rubbers. I believe in a good time, but a safe time as well. I want you to feel safe with me.
You will be impressed by my forethought and my ability to communicate my vision to other people.
We will then walk to a nearby Italian restaurant—The Olive Garden. While the food will not be up to our usual standard, the small-town kindness and surprisingly good wine selection will make the experience enjoyable. Also, you will look fine, something I will mention at least five times during dinner.
Afterward, we will walk back to our humble abode—Motel 6—from the restaurant, slowly. We will stop and look at the orangest and yellowest leaves in the moonlight. During this period of deep intimacy I will caress the small of your back, delicately. Despite our mounting erotic tension we will not speed up. We will enjoy the cool night air and scenic walk. We both understand that letting the tension build will make our eventual union that much more explosive.
Once we arrive at our room, I will run you a warm, steamy bath and will fill it with flower petals; chuck a bath bomb in there that I picked up at Walmart for the low, low price of $5.99.
My baby gets the good shit.
I will do the courtesy of undressing you and lead you to the bath like a blind person. I will then slowly wash your entire body using only the finest, knock-off Egyptian washcloths I had purchased on the streets of New York on a previous excursion.
After the bath is complete, I will dry you off and then lead you to the rocking chair that is clearly in the room for decorative purposes. This chair will take you to new and extreme heights of ecstasy. We will become like two sexy comets that fly through time and space on the same path, bumping and bouncing into each other over and over again, until we both can’t take it anymore and enter into a planet’s atmosphere and disintegrate into a fiery dust.
These comets will be very satisfied.
I, Delong D, have a lot of love to give.
First, you will hug my donger with your warm mouth and lips, sucking the eff’n bejesus out of it; I will transform you into the King of Pop, Micheal Jackson; turning your face from black to white.
My cock will stand mighty, strong like the train we took to get down here. I will hit all of stops along the way to PleasureVille; points A, B and C; Ass, blow-hole and that chocolate cooter.
I won’t stop until my love train reaches its destination: The deepest part of your fine-ass, pussy; it will unload the bags; a consignment of white, hot, passengers.
You will be my pump station.
In the morning we will enjoy a two-course breakfast: One continental, courtesy of Motel 6 and the other at the Waffle House. Grits, I know, is most likely your favorite.
However, it will be clear from their appearance that our visit has awakened long-dormant passions in the elderly Motel 6 owners. They would have seen the mess we left behind in our room; passion on the walls, sheets, carpet and lampshade. We will smile at each other knowing that this will be our good deed from a trip filled with nothing but hedonism and unbridled lust.
On the train ride home, we will recount our many enjoyable activities during our stay; you will ride my pony one more time.
This is why I, Delong D, love autumn.
This is why I love trains and running them.
The Fugazi Female
by Aaron Clarey
Artist of the month
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