Another week passes. The weekend is almost over. And baby, baby, baby…let me tell you. You don’t know how happy I am to report that today is the first day that my asshole doesn’t feel like it’s engulfed in flames. What a damn relief! Anyway, it’s Sunday, and rainy. What is it about the rain that makes some people horny? I mean, it’s been raining like cats and dogs all damn day. And I am horny as hell. Basically, any time it rains, it puts me in the mood to be fucked deep, long, and strong. I can’t explain it. It also makes me think back on some of my rainy day and night sexapades. Like the time it was thundering and lightning and pouring down, and I was getting fucked deliciously on the hood of an ex’s car. Or the time I was in the Bahamas on a private beach with this dude I had met in the middle of a rainstorm, and he ate my pussy, then fucked me until dawn. Mmmmph. Lord knows I love me some rain!
I’m telling you. It really brings the freak out of me. Oh my God! There’s nothing sexier than lying up in bed being pressed down into the mattress by a wide-shouldered, strong-backed, dick-slinging man. And, last night—well, early this morning—that is exactly what I had in my bed. Baby, let me tell you. Up until almost five o’clock this morning, I got slayed lovely!
Last night, I made up my mind that it was time to recruit some new dick. So, after lying around the house most of the day, I decided to go out. I showered, put on a cute Baby Phat jean outfit with nothing underneath the jacket, and rocked a pair of four-inch Gucci heels. Sprayed some Pasha behind my ears and on my wrists, then gave myself the once-over in my floor-length mirror. I was satisfied with my look. My hair and face were tight, and the frame was right. Between you and me, I knew I’d have no problem getting some dick. Hell, I never do. Especially not with measurements like mine: A curvaceous 36-24-38. Yes, I’ve been blessed with nice C-cup breasts with large, Hershey Kiss nipples, a small waist, and a fat, soft ass. And being pretty in the face definitely adds to the package. Not bragging, baby; simply sharing.
Anyway, I figured the best spot to find some dick was to go to a titty bar. So I drove to Cinderella’s in Elizabeth, paid my money, ordered a shot of Henny, then perched my apple-bottom ass up on a stool at the bar and took in the scene. A few dudes tried to holla at me, but they weren’t what I was looking for. So I dismissed them. I mean, I wanted some dick, but a girl still has to be picky. I’m not that pressed to accept any ole thing. I wanted something tall, dark, and fine. The minute I spotted him walking through the door with three of his boys all dipped in jewels, I knew he was the one. I decided I’d have him in my bed before morning came. I eyed him as he walked around to the other side of the bar. I studied him, watched him toss a few dollars up on the stage at one of the dancers.
A smooth, brown-skinned chick with a small waist, wide hips, full breasts, and a face like Herman Munster was up on the stage shaking and bouncing her ass. A skinny chick was at the other end of the bar with her legs pulled all the way back over her head, giving everyone a full view of her pussy. Then there was another chick working extra hard to get a group of brothas to give up their dollars. Seems like the deeper you are in the hood, the uglier and rougher the dancers look. Some of them chicks really have no business being on stage with stretch marks, and razor, cut and knife marks all over their bodies. Ugh.
Anyway, I flagged the bartender and asked him to send my prey a drink on me. When the bartender pointed over in my direction, he raised his glass and nodded. I smiled. He whispered something in one of his man’s ears. They glanced over at me, but I pretended not to notice. Five minutes later, he approached me.
“What’s good, ma?”
I sized him up, licking my painted, glossy lips. He is five feet, eleven inches (I know this because I asked him) with broad shoulders, long, thick fingers, a wide nose, and big, brown, dreamy eyes. His smooth, flawless skin is the color of milk chocolate. Yes, he was definitely the one. After about ten minutes of small talk, I got right to the point.
“You, and what’s hanging between your legs,” I answered. Shit, I had no time for dilly-dallying. Like I said, a ho was trying to fuck. I told him straight out what I was looking for. He didn’t flinch. Just licked his lips, then parted a sexy, wide smile.
He shifted his weight from one foot the other. I guess he thought I was joking, because he stood there, looking me in my face like he was waiting for the punch line. When he realized there was none, he widened his smile and started rubbing his dimpled chin. Yeah, he was definitely the one. I let him know I was ready and that I had a wet, fat pussy that was throbbing for a stiff dick. You know some men bitch up when a chick like me comes at ’em direct. I was glad he didn’t. Hell, life is too damn short to be beating around the bush.
“Oh word? It’s like that?”
I nodded. “Sure is. You married?” I asked, looking him in the eyes. If his eyes shifted around the room, then I would know he was lying. They didn’t.
“Nah, baby.”
“You got a girl?”
“Yeah,” he said, placing his arm on the back of my chair. “But we in the middle of some shit right now. You got a problem with that.”
“Nope,” I answered. “Your problems with her are no problems of mine.” Then I continued my interview by asking the rest of my list of questions.
“Damn,” he said, laughing. “Am I interviewing for a position?”
I twirled my straw with my tongue, then slowly slid it into my mouth and sipped my drink. I licked my lips, then gazed back up at him. “Yes, you are. It’s for a position between these thighs,” I responded, swiveling the barstool towards him and opening up my legs for effect. “And the position requires someone who knows how to rock a pussy.”
He smiled, nodding his head. “I see.”
“Yeah, I bet you do. But do you wanna feel?”
“Hell, yeah,” he snapped. “I’m down.” He paused, sipping his drink. “Listen, you got condoms? ’Cause I ain’t ’bout bringing no shit home, feel me.”
I frowned. “I don’t fuck raw, baby. I got a whole box, especially for you.”
“Oh, word. Then that’s what it is.”
I smiled. “And so it shall be.”
So after another hour of back and forth, and two more rounds of drinks, he walked out behind me, then followed me home in his steel-grey Jag. The crazy thing is, I didn’t even know the nigga’s name, or give him mine, until after we were done. I simply told him what I wanted, and how I wanted it, and he was more than willing to oblige.
As soon as I got him in the house, I attacked him like a wild, dick-hungry ho-beast. Pushed his ass down on the sofa, unzipped his sagging jeans, fished down in his boxers, then unleashed his big, juicy dick with the reddish brown tip. I’m not going to lie, I was so damn relieved his dick was meaty. A little dick would have only been an appetizer for me, so I was more than happy when I saw he was packing. My mouth watered, and my panties got wet while looking at it. The shit was eight inches soft, and eleven inches hard. I know because I always pull out my ruler and measure the dick to know what I’m really working with. I like to jot down their measurements when they leave for future reference.
Anyway, I lowered my pussy onto his face, then leaned down and sucked him silly. It was all good the minute he stuck his tongue in my ass, licked my pussy and sucked on my clit until I couldn’t take it any longer. Yeah, dude had a bitch begging him to fuck me. Mmmm. He flipped me over, strapped on a Durex, then dug my insides out like there was no tomorrow, and he did it doggie-style…exactly how I like it.
The dick was soooo damn good. He has rhythm like no other. Whew! The brotha even made his dick pulsate inside my pussy. No joke. I could actually feel his shit jumping inside of me. Now that bugged me the fuck out.
And the minute I started talking dirty—telling him how big his dick felt inside of me, how good it felt; chanting and moaning, telling him to fuck me harder—his thrusts quickened, and deepened. As soon as he was about ready to nut, I asked him to pull his dick out of me so I could jerk him off. I wanted to see how much he came. I got a thing with seeing all that white, stickiness shooting, spurting or oozing out of the tip of a man’s dick. Oh, how that drives me wild.
Of course, my fuck of the night obliged, and I snatched the condom off, jerked him with both hands, and was pleasantly surprised when his dick spurted a big load of thick, hot cream. If I would have known him better I probably would have licked it up, right down to the last damn drop. But there will definitely be a round two. I’ve decided to give Mr. Majestic five stars, and add him to my “charm” list. He’ll be filling someone’s spot real soon. Believe that!
Anyway, I am all fucked out from my weekend activities. And, today, I am curled up on the sofa relaxing. I plan to spend the whole day lying around the house and doing absolutely nothing. Well, that’s not completely true. In between masturbating, I will finish reading this book Dangerously in Love by this chick Allison Hobbs. Talk about a freaky, engaging read. Then I had the nerve to run out to Borders and pick up her other books Insatiable, Pandora’s Box, A Bona Fide Gold Digger, and The Climax.
I won’t go into details about the books, but DAMN her! What a freak! A few times, she had me slipping my fingers into my already cum-soaked snatch. Now this is one kinky chick. I’ll bet she’s probably a real greedy, dick-rider type chick. I’d love to meet her in person, and pick her freaky brain.
Anyway, let me finish telling you about last night’s adventure, and what I figured out by sitting at that strip joint for almost three hours, watching. See. I realize that the strip clubs are a ho’s paradise. Okay? Roll your eyes if you want. But trust me. Testosterone is everywhere. A plethora of dick and balls await you. At the bar, at tables, in corners, against the wall, young and old, there are men of all shapes, colors and sizes. Some who are there to have a few drinks, watch some ass shake, be entertained, then take their asses home. Others are there to get their drink on, get a few lap dances, maybe even some back room head, then take their asses home. And then there are the men who are there hoping to fuck. But, no matter what their intentions, at least ninety-eight percent of them are going to leave out of that spot wanting something hot and wet to slide their cocks up in—mouth, pussy, ass, or all three. Trust me, it won’t matter. And it’s a greedy, man-loving, dick-craving ho like me who’s going to be perched up at the bar, batting her eyes, licking her lips and marking her target for the night. Believe that!
Another thing I will say is—knowing what I know now, if my man was tricking up his money in some titty bar every week, I don’t know if that would sit well with me, especially since I know what’s really popping off inside most of them spots. Besides the dancers, it’s hoes like me in those spots, swarming around like vultures ready to swoop down on unsuspecting prey. Hell, I’d let him go with his boys and all, but you best believe I’d be somewhere on the other side of the room, at the other end of the bar, dipped down real low, making sure his ass stayed focused.
I lay my book face down on the sofa and allow my mind to reflect on how good Majestic fucked me. There’s something about a man hitting this soft ass from the back, deep, that drives me bananas. Especially when he has a long, thick dick, digging in and out, nice and slow, then grabbing me by the hips or pulling my ass cheeks apart, or sticking his finger in my asshole. I’ll arch my back, swing and shake my hair wildly, then tell him to fuck me hard, to slap my ass. Mmmm. I’m telling you, fuck me from the back and watch me turn into a wild, freaky, ho-beast. And this morning, Majestic’s sexy-chocolate ass could have fucked me in every damn hole. I can go for another round for sure. But I will wait for him to call me. If he doesn’t, two more will. They always do.
My ringing cell snaps me out of my reverie. I glance at the screen. It’s Garrett.
“Hello,” I answer.
“How are you? I haven’t heard from you in a while, so I thought I check in on you to make sure everything’s okay.”
Didn’t I just speak to this nigga a few days ago? I pull in a deep breath. “I’m good,” I say.
“I was hoping to see you today.”
Hmm, thinking about my night with Majestic on top of the rain does have me wanting to ride a dick. And although my pussy is still aching, the fact still remains. Garrett always aims to please. Like I shared before, every time he’s inside of me, he strokes my pussy and clit just right. Not only is he good with his dick and talented with his tongue, he’s the kind of man who is obedient. He does exactly what is asked of him without complaint. If I want my pussy in his mouth or his tongue in my ass, he does it and doesn’t expect me to reciprocate. Which is why I don’t mind sucking down his dick or gargling his cow-like balls because, with him, there’s no pressure. No fuss. Even though he’s not scheduled—in my head—for another dish of this pussy for a few more weeks, against my better judgment, I think I will invite him over for a treat. Humph…so much for lounging around today doing nothing.
“Hmm. Sounds like you want a dose of this good stuff,” I say, jokingly.
He laughs. “Well, when it’s good, it’s good.”
“Unh-huh, and haven’t you heard too much of a good thing ain’t always good for you?”
“I’ll take my chances,” he says.
“Well, don’t say you haven’t been warned,” I tease. “So what time you want to come by?”
“Your warning has been duly noted. Let me see,” he says. “It’s three-thirty now. How ’bout around seven?”
“Seven is good,” I state. “You feel up to doing a little role-playing?”
He laughs. “What you have in mind?”
“I’ve been a naughty girl, Officer,” I coo into the phone. “I need to be placed under arrest.”
“Is that so,” he says, lowering his voice. “And what should I arrest you for?”
“For wanting to swallow your fat dick down in my throat, then feel it deep inside my hot pussy,” I answer.
“That doesn’t seem like a crime to me,” he says, playing along.
“Well, it will be when I fuck you to death.”
He laughs. “Sounds like I may need back-up.”
“Baby,” I coo, “the only thing you need to back you up is this soft, fat ass. So, bring your handcuffs and that thick dick of yours. My tight pussy is wet and ready to be wrapped around your delicious cock.”
He pauses. I can tell his dick is hard, and I have him thinking. “Umm, let’s make it for six-thirty.”
I laugh to myself, telling him that the minute he walks through my door I want him to strip down naked, and come upstairs wearing nothing but his hat and his boots with his gun on his hip and his dick in his hand. “And don’t forget the handcuffs,” I add, running my hand over my pussy, then stroking my clit with my index and middle fingers. “I’m gonna have this pussy nice and hot for you.”
“You always do, baby,” he states. I can hear his aching desire for me in his voice. And I know he will come here on a mission. To fuck me deep and slow and purposefully as he always does. Then he will flip me over onto my stomach and fuck me hard and fast. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“I’ll be waiting,” I say before hanging up.
At six-thirty, I hear the alarm chirp alerting me the door has been opened. In less than two minutes, Garret struts into my bedroom in all of his nakedness, frisks me, squeezing my titties, tweaking my nipples, rubbing my pussy, grabbing and slapping my ass, before placing me under arrest. He reads me my rights, tells me, “You have the right to a stiff dick. You have the right to be fucked any way you want, for as long as you want. Anything you say or do will be the cause of me busting my nut in you. Do you understand?”
I nod, “Ooh, yes, Officer. Are you gonna beat me with that big stick of yours?”
“Put your hands behind your back,” he says, twirling me around. “And spread your legs apart.”
I stick out my ass. Brush it up against his cock. He slaps me on the ass.
“Keep still,” he snaps, “before I have to charge you with resisting arrest.”
“Oooh, big daddy, charge me.”
He yanks my hands in back of me, then loosely cuffs them behind my back. He throws me onto the bed, sucks all over my nipples, licks and sucks all over my pussy, then rolls me over on my stomach and nibbles and kisses on my ass. Then he pulls open my ass cheeks, slides his dick into my creamy pussy and fucks me so damn good that my twat twitches and throbs. He slaps me on the ass. This time it stings, but feels good as he is pounding inside of me. He slaps my ass again.
“So you like breaking the law, huh?”
“Yeah, Mr. Officer,” I say, moaning and winding my hips up and down on the mattress. “I’m a naughty, freak-nasty girl. What you gonna do about it?” He pulls his dick out of me, yanks me up off the bed, and slaps me on both ass cheeks. “Yeah, fucker, smack that fat ass.”
“Oh, you like that shit, hunh? You like talking shit, hunh?”
“Fuck me!” I beg, spreading my legs wider. “Slam your fuck-stick in me!”
He bends me over, pushes my face down onto the dresser, then slides his dick into my piping hot pussy, fucking me from the back, slamming his honey-coated club in and out of me while his heavy balls slap up against my pussy.
I let out a ferocious moan. And by the time Garrett finally releases me from his dick pounding custody, I have cum six times. Oooooh, he really put it on me!
Mmmph. And now I’m lying here, basking in all of my bareness. I inhale. Savor the moment. I swear I love the smell of sex in the air. There’s nothing like the aroma of pussy, and sweat lingering around to remind you of how good you’ve been fucked. The taste of sex, the smell of sweet, musky fucking is all around me. Its scent hovers over me as I watch Garrett walk around the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. I exhale. There are still beads of water from his shower clinging to his strong back. I watch as he removes his towel and dries himself off. His dick slightly swings from side to side as he walks around the room. I close my legs, reliving how he fucked me deliciously. He glances at me, catches me staring at him. He smiles.
“You know,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. “I’ve been thinking.” He pauses, gauging my reaction. I hold my breath, not liking the sound of this. I keep my eyes on him.
“I’m listening,” I say.
“I need to know where this is going.”
“Where what is going?” I question, feigning stupidity. I rise up on my forearms.
“This,” he says, gesturing with his hands. “You and me, this situation we got going on here.”
“What’s wrong with what we have going on?”
“Nothing,” he says, rubbing his chin, then running his hands over his neatly-trimmed face. “I mean everything. It’s been three years and it seems like you are okay with us being strictly fuck buddies, and—”
“I am,” I say, cutting him off. “I’m very much satisfied with the way things are between us.”
“Well, I’m not. I want more.”
For some reason, I hear Wade’s voice; see his face, but it’s not him. It’s the exact same song, only a different performer. I purse my lips, think before I speak. The fact that we are having this discussion comes as no surprise to me. My gut was telling me something like this was about to go down between him and me. I hate how it may turn out. “Well, you can’t have more,” I huff. “You knew the rules going into this, so don’t go trying to change them up now. This thing we have works.”
“This works for who? You? Well, it definitely isn’t working for me, anymore. I don’t want to just be some side dick you call on.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Garrett, sorry to disappoint you, but I would rather we keep things the way they are. There’s no need to try to make shit complicated.”
“Babe,” he says, caressing the side of my face. He leans and plants a soft kiss on my lips. And strangely, I don’t pull back. “It doesn’t have to be complicated unless you try to make it that way. I enjoy you, and you can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way. So I think it’s time we try to take this to another level and see where it goes.”
“Another level?” I ask indignantly. “Why in the world would you want to do that?”
He stares at me. “To get to know you outside of the bedroom,” he says. “To get to know you with your clothes on, if that’s alright with you. Do you realize we’ve never gone out in public? Why is that? I would like to at least take you out to a movie, to a Broadway show, or something.”
“Going out turns into dating; dating turns into relationships. And I’m not interested in dating, and I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“Correction,” he says, “going out turns into two people getting better acquainted. Dating simply offers the opportunity to spend quality time with someone you enjoy being around. And if it turns into a relationship, then cool. If not, at least we enjoyed each other’s company. I think there’s so much more outside of fucking that we can offer each other.”
Great, I think, taking a deep breath. First Wade, now his ass! What the fuck?!
“What’s the harm in wanting to get to know you better? Everything doesn’t have to be about sex between us. There are times I would rather hold you in my arms, and watch a movie with you.” He gets up and paces the floor, then stops in his tracks. He locks his eyes on me as if he’s had an epiphany. He sits back down next to me on the edge of the bed. “Bianca, baby, you gonna need to make a decision.”
I blink, blink again. I can feel myself about to tell him to go to hell with this bullshit. But, I will myself to stay calm. In my head, I can see me telling him there is no decision to make; telling him to get the fuck out of my face, out of my house, with this shit. The words form on the tip of my tongue, but none come out in the way I think them. And that baffles me.
“Garrett, I think you should go ’cause I’m not interested in having this conversation with you. Not now, not ever. What you’ve been getting, is what you get. So, don’t start looking for more than what I’m willing to give.”
He frowns, studies me. Squints his eyes, then gets up from the bed. “Yeah,” he says, removing his towel from around his body. “I think you’re right. I’d better get going. I’ll call you one day next week.”
“That’s on you,” I say, flopping back on the bed and pulling the covers up over me. “Lock the door on your way out.” Men, I think, rolling my eyes up at the ceiling.