I don’t care how hard I try to manage my time, there never seem to be enough hours on the weekends to relax before it’s time to drag back up in this piece. It always seems like the weekends fly by, but then comes the work week and the shit is dragging. It’s bad enough that, on top of the fact that I don’t feel like being here today, I’m worn out from getting slayed Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I don’t know about you, but for me, a good fucking can be so exhilarating and exhausting at the same time. And right about now, I’m both. Three days of back to back fucking is enough to hold me over for a few days, hell, maybe even a week.
Now contrary to what you may think, I don’t fuck every day of the week. However, if I do feel like getting my fuck on, that’s what I do. Then the following week, I simply chill, and suck a dick or two while my pussy rests, which is exactly what I plan to do this week.
Also, just so you know, if I’m not fucking on any given day, I might only have a dude who likes—no scratch that, loves—to eat pussy to come through and pet this sweet kitty with his tongue. This cuts down on the wear and tear, and keeps my pussy from looking like it’s been turned inside out. And if it’s really urgent that I feel the thrust of a dick, I’ll let him screw me in the ass. Please. Like I already told you, there’s no shame in my game. I have three holes, and I intend to use them all. So, think what you want, but I will not be denied!
Anyway, I’m sitting at my desk engrossed in my work, typing a monthly report, when Nahdirah knocks on my office door, and pops her head in. “Hey, girl, you busy?” she asks, scanning the room with her eyes.
“No, not really,” I say, looking up at her. “What’s up?” She walks in, closing the door behind her, then plops down in the leather chair in front of my desk. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, either it is, or it isn’t.”
“You know I’m starting to see why you stay to yourself here.”
Humph, I think, propping my elbows up on my desk, and clasping my hands under my chin. Somebody must have been talking about her, again. “And what makes you say that?” I ask, knowingly.
“Girl, I’m really starting to see what you mean about some of these chicks here.” I raise my brow and give her a look to get to the damn point. She gets the hint. “Saturday night I went out for drinks with Cheryl, Robin and Rachel down in the mailroom…”
Before she even says anything else, I already know that this has something to do with a man ’cause all three of them bitches she was out with are certified man eaters. So, I am so not interested in hearing this shit. Not today. But I allow her to bore me to death with her drama, anyway. She goes on to tell me how much of a good time she was having with these raggedy hoes until Robin has one drink too many and starts dropping hints about Rachel having slept with her man, Jake, then made some comment about how she had to have a tilted uterus to handle his curved dick. She says that’s when it turned ugly.
I roll my eyes, but she is oblivious to my disgust.
“…So I asked her flat out how the hell she knew his dick was curved, and if she had been with him. She waved me off, talking ’bout ‘I’m not the one you should be asking’, then slapped her hand up over her mouth, looking over at Rachel, who looked like a bitch with a handful of cookies in her mouth…”
I keep my elbows planted on my desk, cupping either side of my face in the palms of my hands. I stare at her as she speaks, then subconsciously drum my fingers along the sides of my face. I find myself daydreaming about sucking some dick. And somehow the thought makes me remember back two years ago when I was at the Mall at Short Hills and bumped into this sexy, brown-skinned dude as I was coming out of the Verizon store. Dude had a shaved head, a mustache and goatee, and muscles for days. Yes, I gave him the once-over. Sure did. And didn’t care how obvious I made it. He got the hint and started trying to get his mack on. We walked over toward the chairs in front of Bloomingdales and talked.
Now, I’m not exactly sure how the topic of sex came up—well actually, I do. It was right after he asked me what I liked to get in to, and I told him, “Sucking dick.” Dude (and for the life of me, I can’t remember his name) asked me what it was about dick sucking that I enjoyed the most. I had to think about it for a minute. Then I answered.
“The one thing I enjoy most about sucking dick is the fact that I am in total control of how good I make a man feel. I can lick, flick, nibble, suckle, slob, gobble, jerk, and swallow the dick. Massage his balls with my tongue, mouth and hands. Make him pant with anticipation. Bring him to the edge of ecstasy, then either push him all the way over or pull him back all in one stroke. Every time I take a man’s dick in my mouth, I literally have him by the balls. And that to me is power.”
Then he asked me what thoughts ran through my mind when I was sucking dick. I told him, “When I’m sucking dick, I’m thinking about my throat being my pussy, wet, warm and tight around a man’s cock. My only focus is doing whatever it takes to get him off. I like to be face-fucked. And I like for a man to cum as many times as he likes.”
By the time I was done talking, dude was licking his lips, drooling. Said I had him wanting his dick in my mouth right then. I looked down at the bulge in his pants, and smiled. Yes, I knew I had his undivided attention. So, me, being who I am, decided to take it a step further. I asked him who he was out there with. When he said he was by himself, I asked him what he was driving.
He said, “An Escalade.”
I leaned in, lowered my voice real sexy-like, and asked, “You ever had your dick sucked in a mall parking garage?”
He looked around, then grinned. “No. Can’t say that I have.”
I smiled. He smiled. I gazed down in his lap, licked my lips and told him I felt like sucking some cock. I could tell I shocked him. He leaned back in the leather seat, opened and closed his muscular legs, probably to pinch the throbbing in his crotch.
I gestured for him to come closer with my index finger, then leaned in his ear and whispered, “Let me wrap my hot mouth and wet tongue all over your fat cock. It is fat, right?”
I wanted some dick, but not one that didn’t have any meat on its bone. Like I said before, I’m not a size ho, but if I’m going to suck a dick I don’t want to have to do it through a straw. I was relieved when he said it was nice and thick. “Let’s go sit in your truck.”
“For what?” he asked, trying to act like he didn’t know what was up.
“So I can suck down your dick and lick your balls,” I said.
He nervously looked around to make sure I was talking to him. I hate when men do that shit. It’s all good when they come at a woman, but when the tables are flipped, most of ’em seem to clam up, and start getting all nervous and shit. Why is that?
Anyway, he said, “Sure, why not?”
And of course, I made sure to ask how long his dick was, and if it was cut. When he said it was eight inches and cut, I told him to lead the way to his truck so I could spin his top.
As soon we got inside his truck, I told him to pull it out. Even soft, it was nice and meaty. My mouth drooled as he stroked it. I pulled out my ruler, measured it. Confirmed his exact inches, then rolled a cherry flavored condom over his dick, and sucked him and licked all over his smooth balls until he popped his nut. I wanted so bad to suck his thick dick raw, but knew that was not an option. And neither was seeing him again.
I bring my attention back to Nahdirah. And she is still rambling on about nothing.
“…I can’t believe that bitch was implying that Rachel slept with Jake.”
“Well, did she deny it?” I ask, not really caring either way.
“Well, no. Not really. But…” she says, pausing.
I sigh, getting annoyed. “But what?”
“I asked Jake about it, and he didn’t deny it either.”
Because he fucked her ass, you dizzy bitch! I scream in my head.
“Well, did he admit it?” I ask.
“No, he said she was fucking crazy.”
Of course he did, my mind snaps. That’s what they all say.
“Okay,” I say, gesturing with my hand for her to hurry the hell up and finish this boring-ass story. “Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is my gut tells me that they did sleep together. And I said something to Cheryl about it this morning and she shifted her eyes like she knew something, then told me to leave it alone.”
I glance at my watch. “Listen. Do you think you can speed this up? I have a lot to do today.”
“Geesh,” she says, acting offended, “who got your panties all in a bunch today?” She folds her arms tightly across her chest, sitting back in her seat.
“No one,” I snap. “I’m not in the mood for any of this ghetto-trash drama. And anything that has to do with any of these chicks here is exactly that. I could not care less about which ho in this building slept with your man. I told you from gate to stop telling these f-ing trollops your damn business, but you keep yapping your jaws.”
“The only person I tell anything to besides you is Cheryl, and she’s never given me a reason not to trust her.”
I laugh at her stupidity. “Are you serious?! She’s the main one who grins up in your face, then talks about you, and laughs at you behind your back.”
“Well, I can’t say if that’s true or not since nothing’s ever gotten back to me.”
I shake my head. “Bless your heart. You need to buy a vowel and get a clue, for real. But hey, it’s your life, not mine. Humph. I don’t know why you have to hang around them birds, anyway. But you do. So I have to wonder about you as well.”
She raises her eyebrow. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
There’s a part of me that likes this chick; but, like I told you before, she could never be any friend of mine. “It means birds of a feather tend to flock together. So, if you’re not one of ’em, but choose to hang around ’em, then stupid is what stupid does. And you get what you get. I told you before about fucking with these chicks here. But you keep on grinning up in their faces. So, truthfully, I don’t want to hear nothing about what they said, or did, or felt. Now, unless you have something else constructive to talk about, kindly remove yourself from my office, and take this foolishness somewhere else.”
She jumps up from her seat, slamming her hands on her hips. “You got a lot of nerve to be judging me,” she snaps.
“I’m not judging you,” I snap back. Bitch! “I’m judging the company you keep. But if the shoe fits, then wear it well.”
She swings open my office door, and storms out, leaving a dust of anger behind her. I frown, shaking my head. Pathetic, I think, getting up from my seat to close the door. I’m sorry to say this, but some women out here are fucking trifling. And, trust me. It damn sure isn’t always a man’s fault for some of these women being so damn jacked up.
My cell phone rings. I glance at the number that flashes across the screen. It’s Garrett. I sigh, contemplating whether or not I should answer. Against my better judgment, I pick up. Attitude in my tone. “Hello?”
“We need to talk,” he says flatly.
“About?”
He sighs. “What we were talking about last night.”
“There’s nothing else to talk about. You said what you wanted, and I told you what I wasn’t going to give you. What more is there to talk about?”
“Listen,” he says, sounding frustrated. “I’m not trying to get into this over the phone. What time you getting off from work?”
“Oh, no,” I say, getting up from my desk and walking over to the window. I look down onto the street. Watch as the cars go to and fro. “You are not about to come to my house to beat me in the head about something that isn’t an option.”
“Why isn’t it?”
“Garrett,” I say, walking back to my desk. I shuffle through a stack of mail. “I’m not having this discussion with you, today, tonight, tomorrow, or any other time. Good bye.” I disconnect the call, plopping down in my high back leather chair.
See, this is the reason why I need to stick to my three month rule. Fuck ’em, rotate ’em, then let ’em go. Out of all my fuck charms, Garrett—aside from Maurice—is the one who has never brought any drama with him. And he’s never tried to make our arrangement out to be more than what it’s been. Until now! What the fuck has gotten into him? I should not have to remind him of our “agreement,” the one I’ve been guilty of not following (with him) the last few weeks, the last several months: Fuck on occasion, once every few months.
Everything between us was fine. Now he wants to fuck on demand. Damn him! Like I said months ago, I’ve kept him around the longest out of all my fucks for the simple fact that he came with good dick. And he understood the rules. Now he’s trying to rearrange shit. And I’m not feeling it. I already see where this is going, and I don’t like it one damn bit. I swear I don’t want to axe him. He feels so damn good inside of me, but I’ll seal this pussy shut before I allow him to try to wife me up.
I take a deep breath. I try to list the reasons why I have been riding Garrett’s dick off and on for the last two, almost three, years. Try to remind myself of the fact that he’s always good, like Wade, for those last minute tune-ups. He aims to service the pussy with no questions asked. And he doesn’t come with any damn drama. I try to balance the pros and cons of keeping him on my team. Try to rationalize holding onto him when I don’t have any emotional connection to him. Or do I?
“Hell, no!” I snap, glancing at the Waterford crystal desk clock. It is twelve-fifteen. “Girl, get over yourself. The nigga has to go!” I get up from my seat and grab my purse, deciding to go to lunch. “And the next time he calls, I’m gonna serve him his discharge papers,” I say to myself as I head out of my office and pass the different work areas en route to the elevators. I spot Nahdirah sitting at her desk, talking on the phone. I toss my hair and act as if I don’t see her. Make her retarded ass invisible.
On my way to the Olive Garden on Route 22, Ian calls me on my prepaid cell. He says he wants to see me tonight. I decline. I am in no mood for him after the fucking Garrett and Majestic put on me over the weekend. Although I know sliding up in my pussy wasn’t on his mind, having him plunging in and out of my asshole isn’t an option either; especially not after the way he had my hole sizzling the last time. Thanks, but no thanks! I don’t even feel like sucking his dick.
“Can I get a rain check?” I ask, pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot. “Tonight’s really not a good night.” I park next to a burgundy Range Rover, then remove my seatbelt, keeping the car running.
“Damn, baby,” he says, practically whining. “I was hoping to see you tonight.” I roll my eyes. “What about tomorrow night?”
“Actually,” I say, flipping down my visor to check my eyeliner, “I was thinking more like one day next week.”
“Well, how ’bout I come by and we just chill?”
“Umm, that sounds wonderful, but I’m not really in the mood for a man tonight.”
“Oh, word? I can dig it,” he says, sounding rejected. “How ’bout you hit me up when you ready to get it in then?”
No, nigga, how ’bout I erase you from my list, I think. “I will,” I say, flipping up the visor, then shutting off the engine. “Thanks for calling.”
“Aiight,” he says. “Later.”
I hang up and get out of my car, walking towards the entrance. There are about ten people standing outside, which tells me the place is crowded. I go inside and walk up to the podium, and I am greeted with a wide smile. “Hello, Welcome to the Olive Garden.”
Hello,” I respond. “Can you tell me how long the wait is?” She says it’s a fifteen-minute wait. I decide to stay and give her my name. “I’ll be outside,” I tell her.
“This will light up,” she says, handing me a wooden disc, “when your table is ready.”
I go outside and sit on one of the benches. I am glad it’s warm out, almost like summer. There are three chicks, two black and one white, sitting on a bench not too far from me. I overhear bits and pieces of their conversation, and roll my eyes up in my head as one of them is saying something about being tired of dating broke men. The other two agreed. I literally almost pass out when I hear her say she agreed with her mother that as long as a woman is spreading open her legs, she should never be broke.
I cross my legs, thankful I have my shades on as I roll my eyes again. I get so tired of hearing women talking about needing or wanting a man for his money. That shit is so tired, and played out. I mean, really. Enough already. I want so bad to chime in and tell her to get the fuck over herself and stop looking for handouts.
We are living in the twenty-first century and more women need to learn to be self-sufficient, and self-reliant, and stop playing the damn damsel in distress role. Stop settling for that gold digger mentality. It’s really sad, and fucking disturbing, that there are still a lot of women who buy into that archaic way of thinking that a man should take care of her. As long as women hold onto that belief, they will always be dependent on a man. And when shit doesn’t work out, she’ll be a prisoner of her own choices—trapped, miserable and damn desperate to latch onto another cash cow before day’s end.
Hell, my thing is, get your ass up and do something constructive with your life besides breeding a bunch of damn babies, and gold digging. Get an education, pursue a career, and stack your money. ’Cause at the end of the day, if a man ever decides to walk out on you with the next chick, or if he takes ill, you still need to be able to stand. As far as I’m concerned, don’t rely on a man to do shit for you, except provide you with some dick, and maybe a little companionship.
Ugh! I am so glad my cell phone rings to give me something to do besides listen in on their pathetic conversation. It’s Mitchell. “Hello.”
“You ready to see me?” he asks, chewing in my ear.
I pull the phone away from my ear and frown. “What?”
He repeats himself.
Lucky for him the lights start flashing on my wooden puck. “Listen, delete my number.” I hang up before he can say another word. I don’t know how the hell, or why, his woman puts up with him, I think, getting up from my seat to go inside to enjoy an extended lunch. Poor thing!
As I follow the hostess to my seat, I decide I will take the rest of the day off. It’s too nice to be holed up in somebody’s office. I will go home and lounge around, listening to music and watching movies. Then tonight I will give myself a pedicure and a facial, before luxuriating in a hot, steamy bath with candlelight and soft music. I am not in the mood to be bothered with anyone else’s man today. But come tomorrow, I’m sure I’ll have my sweet, tight pussy wrapped around someone’s stiff dick.