“Hey, Sis, how’s it going?” Tyler asks.
“Hey to you, too. Everything’s fine, thanks. How are you and the family?”
“We’re all fine. Haven’t spoken to you since Thanksgiving so I wanted to give you a ring to see how you were doing.”
“Awww,” I say, smiling. “That’s real sweet of you.”
He chuckles. “Well, I kinda figured it beats dropping by early in the morning.”
“Well, big bro, for the record, you can drop by any time you like. But don’t get too excited,” I tease, “’cause that doesn’t mean I’m gonna always open the door to let you in.”
“Hey, hey,” he says, laughing. “I’m an officer of the law. I have ways of still getting in.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, come kick the door in and arrest me.”
“How ’bout a hug instead?”
I smile. “Any time.”
“You talk to Garrett yet?”
“Nope,” I say, lying across my sofa, rubbing my stomach. “He hasn’t called me, and I haven’t called him.”
“I see. Don’t you think you should reach out to him?”
“For what?” I ask, hoping to not sound too callous. But, what the fuck?! “He’s not my man.”
“Yeah, maybe he wasn’t, but after three years, I’d think you’d have, if nothing else, a fondness for him. I’d hate to see you let a good man slip away.”
Yeah, I did. I was fond of that thick, cut, juicy-ass dick. “It’s probably for the best.”
“For who?”
“For him.”
“Why, don’t you think you deserve to have a good man in your life?”
“Of course I do.”
“So then, what’s the problem?”
I think, consider, his question; contemplate telling him that the only thing good I want from a man is his dick, that I am easily bored with men; that I am very freaky and nasty. That I love being face-fucked and sucking dick, edging a man for hours, wrapping my lips around the underside of the rim of his dickhead and working it with my warm, wet lips, taking him to the brink again, and again, and again, each time more intense ’til he plunges into a shattering orgasm. I wonder how he would respond to all of this, then decide it probably wouldn’t go so well.
“I’d rather not discuss it,” I state, “so, let’s change the subject, please.”
“Okay, you got that. I know when to back up, and mind my own business.”
“Thank you.”
“So what are your plans for the holidays? Jacki wanted me to invite you over to spend Christmas Eve with us. She’s cooking a big dinner, and we’ll be lighting the tree. We’re expecting about twenty-five people.”
“I wish I could. It sounds like it will be fun. But, I’m going to be away.”
“Away? Where?”
“Egypt.”
“Egypt?” he asks, sounding surprised. “When did you decide to go there?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Wow, how long is the flight?”
“Eleven, twelve hours, I think. It’s six or seven hours to Frankfurt, then another five or so hours to Cairo.”
“Sounds exciting. When are you leaving? And how long are you going to be over there?”
“Yeah, I’m excited. I’m leaving on the twenty-third.”
“Cool. How long will you be gone?”
“I’ll be there for ten days.”
“Well, you make sure you stay safe.
“I definitely will.”
“Who you going with?”
“Myself,” I say.
“Wait a minute. You’re going to a foreign country by yourself? Are you serious?”
“Tyler, I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”
“The hell you will!” he snaps. “I’m not comfortable with you flying across the ocean alone. You need me to come along as security.”
I laugh. “Boy, you silly. I promise you, I’m gonna be fine. The adventure will do me some good.”
“Well, you make sure you leave your hotel info, and check in every night so that I know you’re okay.”
I shake my head. “Yes, Dad. Anything else?”
“Yeah, I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Call me before you leave.”
“I will. Give everyone a hug for me.”
The minute I hang up from him, my BlackBerry vibrates, alerting me that I have new emails. I pick up the device off of the kitchen counter, then scroll over to my Nutcracker69 address. There are two emails, one from Dickudownallnight and the other from Jamil. Nigga, please, I think, deleting Jamil’s without opening it. I open Dickudown’s: What’s good, baby? I’m still waiting to hear from you. Hit me back, Marquise.
I sigh. As tempting as his dick looked in that pic he sent, there’s a reason why I don’t recall who he is, and I’m sure an even better reason why I stopped fucking him. I have no interest in trying to figure it all out. No going back to dismissed dick, I think, hitting the reply button. I’ve broken enough rules already. ‘Sorry, boo, thanks for the offer. But, I’m not interested.’ I press send, then delete his message.
My cell rings. I pick it up and glance at the number flashing across the screen. It’s Wendell. I’m not in the mood for him, either. As matter of fact, I haven’t been in the mood for much of anything, particularly anything that has to do with a man. The only thing I am interested in at this moment is catching my plane in a few days. I press decline, then toss the phone on the sofa, deciding to go through my phonebook before the new year comes in, and delete useless numbers.
I go into the kitchen, pour myself a glass of ginger ale, then sit at the kitchen table, glancing up at the wooden wall clock. It’s almost seven o’clock in the evening. I hold my glass to my lips, pursing my lips before taking a slow, deliberate sip. I sigh. I will need to make some major changes in my life for the New Year. Of course, giving up dick definitely isn’t one of the things I plan on changing—or giving up. But, maybe, the number of men I’m fucking at one time does need changing. For now, at least, I think, getting up from the table, placing my half-empty glass in the sink, then heading upstairs to lie down. I stifle a yawn, realizing I’m extremely exhausted. I climb up into my bed with my clothes still on, then slowly drift off to sleep.
Two days later, I am running through the house like a raving lunatic, tossing shit into my suitcase, making sure I don’t forget anything, before zipping it up and placing it near the front door. My limo will be here in an hour. I run back upstairs to finish putting last minute items into my carry-on, then bring it downstairs and place it beside my suitcase. My doorbell rings, and I think it is my driver to take me to the airport. I glance at my timepiece. It’s only one-thirty. My flight doesn’t leave until five. “You’re early,” I say, swinging the door open. “I—”
My jaw drops. “Garrett? What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
I take him in. He looks tired, and as if he’s lost some weight. But he is still as fine as ever. A part of me wants to slam the door in his face, curse him out for coming to my home unannounced, but, in all honesty, he hasn’t done anything, other than trying to wife me up, to warrant such disrespect. My thoughts temporarily slip back to the last time we were together, how he fucked me deliciously. Better than all the other times. How his dick fit perfectly inside of me; how my pussy saturated his dick with its love juices, causing pellets of lust to rapidly burst through me with every stroke. Then I remember, how being fucked down by him—without a damn condom—got me into all this mess in the first place, and shake the images out of my head.
I step back and allow him to enter. “What brings you here?”
“I was thinking about you,” he says as he walks through the door. He glances over at my luggage. “Going somewhere?”
I glance at my watch. “Actually, I am. I thought you were the limo driver when you rang the doorbell. You could have called.”
“You mind if I have a seat?” I extend my hand toward the sofa, gesturing for him to sit. He sits, and I find myself taking a seat on the other end of the sofa, keeping a safe distance between us. “Yeah, you’re right. I could have called, but I wanted to see you before the holidays.”
I smile. “That was thoughtful of you.” I remember what Tyler told me, and decide to ask, “How have you been?”
“I’ve had better days, but nothing I can’t shake.”
For some reason, him sitting here making small talk feels strange, and makes me uncomfortable. I shift in my seat, deciding to skip all the niceties. “Listen, Garrett, why are you reallyhere?”
He raises his brow. “I told you, I wanted to see you.”
“Okay, that sounds good, but…”
“I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” he says, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“Ohkaaay. And what do I have to do with that?”
He stares at me. The intensity in his eyes feels hot against my flesh. Oh my God, he knows.
Nonsense, I reason. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You look different.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, you have this glow about you.” He knows, ho. He squints, forces himself to look deeper, then tilts his head. “I had a dream you were pregnant.”
“Whaat?!” I ask, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Pregnant, me? OhmyGod, what made you dream of something like that?”
I know what some of you bitches are thinking, “Well, you were, ho.” Well, so what? The fact, whether I was or wasn’t, isn’t up for discussion with him, not right now at least.
He shrugs, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’ve had the same dream for the last two weeks. I’ve been real tired, lately, almost drained. I was talking to my sister about it the other day, and she jokingly asked me if I had gotten someone pregnant. At first I laughed it off, but later on I started wondering if…” he pauses, and allows the silence to fill the space around us. It is at this very moment, I wish I could blink him and what happened between us away. Wish I could rewind the clock and go back to the night he fucked me without a condom, and simply erase it from out of my life. I hold my breath. “You’d tell me if you were pregnant, wouldn’t you?”
Okay, now comes the moment of truth. I slowly exhale. “I probably wouldn’t. I don’t know.”
“You don’t think I would have the right to know.”
I slowly shake my head, diverting my eyes from his. “Not if I wasn’t going to keep it. But, that’s neither here nor there.”
“But would you keep it, if you were?”
“I’m not in love with you, so why would I?”
“Because I’m in love with you, and it would be a life we created.”
“Not by choice. And definitely not out of mutual love.” He looks as if he’s hurt by what I’ve said. He glances back over at my bags.
“You spending the holidays in San Diego with your family?”
I shake my head. “No, not this year. I’m going to Egypt.”
He slowly nods. “I see,” he says, pausing. He stares at me. “Always the adventurous one.”
“Something like that,” I state, glancing at my watch again. Where is this damn driver? I think, hoping he’d hurry the hell up and get here.
He keeps his gaze on me, tilting his head. “What will it take?”
“For what? I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“For you to let someone love you?”
“I’m not looking for love.”
“At some point, we all need and want to be loved.”
“Maybe.”
“Do you even know what you want? I mean, what are you looking for in a man?”
“You really wanna know, Garrett?” I ask, sighing.
He nods. “Yes, talk to me.”
I get up, glancing at my watch, again, pacing the floor. “If I were looking for a man, I would want to meet someone who was as freaky as me. A man who wasn’t afraid of pleasing me whenever, however, wherever, without any hang-ups; a man who was comfortable enough in his skin, and in his sexuality, to simply go with the flow and not get caught up in what he thinks I might think after we’re done. He wouldn’t have to keep going and going, and going, like me. I mean, if the dick was good, I’d be willing to work with him. I would want a man who understood the power of foreplay, and was skilled at delivering the best damn orgasms possible, causing waves of electrifying heat to course through me every time he dipped his tongue in my pussy, or someone who stroked me into an unconscious state every time he slid his dick up in me. That’s the kind of man I would want.”
He raises his brow. “So, you mean to tell me, getting fucked good is the only thing you’d want out of a man? Well, if that’s all that you require, I can give you that. Hell, for the last three years, that’s all the hell I’ve been giving you. Aren’t you ever gonna get tired of just being fucked?”
Oh, alright, good dick isn’t really the only thing I’d want from a man. In all honesty, I’d want him to not be afraid to love me, or let me love him. I’d want a man who understood the concept of fidelity and trust and commitment, a man with integrity and ambition and patience and compassion. I’d want a man who’d respect me as woman and appreciate my individuality, my sensuality, my sexuality. One who would not deprive me, or deny me. And, yes, damn it…have good dick.
I look Garrett in the eyes and tell him all of this. He stares back at me.
“How can a man with flaws, an imperfect man, love a woman who sees the world through rose-colored lenses?”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other. I shrug. “I’m not sure. However, if I were looking for a man, I wouldn’t be looking for perfect. But, is there anything wrong with wanting something or someone close to it?”
Okay, okay. I know nothing in life is perfect, that it’s an illusion of what and how we want things to be in the perfect world we create in our minds.
Garrett gets up from his seat and walks over to me. “Bianca, you’re a beautiful woman. Have you ever thought that maybe you might really have a problem?”
I frown. “A problem? What kind of problem are you talking about?”
“With sex.”
I scoff at his absurdity. “I don’t have a problem with sex. I love it.”
“Yeah, maybe a little too much.”
I place my hand on my hip. “And what exactly is a little too much, Garrett?”
“I think your love for sex might be more of an addiction?”
“An addiction?” I ask indignantly. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
“Garrett, now you’re really reaching. I enjoy having sex, and lots of it, but that doesn’t mean I’m addicted to it. I don’t live and breathe sex.”
He looks at me disbelievingly.
“I can stop fucking at any time,” I huff, wondering if what I say is to convince him or myself. “But why should I? I’m single, and I don’t have to answer to anyone, so I can fuck whomever I want, whenever I want.”
“But what about having someone to love you?”
Here he goes with this love shit again. “If I were looking for that, then maybe. But, right now, I only wanna fuck.”
He shakes his head. “Well, then, let me be the one to keep fucking you.”
“Honestly, Garrett, no offense. But I’d become very bored with one man, one dick.”
“Maybe you haven’t let the right man prove you wrong. Maybe if you were with someone who was open to letting you fuck other cats, as long as they were able to participate and/or watch. Maybe explore the swingers set with you, you wouldn’t feel that way.”
I try not to show my surprise at what he says, but in my head, I’m thinking: Swingers? Watching me get fucked? OhmyGod, now he’s talking my kind of language, but why now?
“It’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for over a year,” he answers, reading my mind.
“So, you’re saying to me, you would be down with threesomes, and you’d be cool with watching me get fucked by someone else.”
He nods. “Yeah, as long as I can either get my dick sucked while he’s hitting it from the back, or we can both fuck you. And it would have to be a situation that is discreet and mutually comfortable for both of us…”
I cannot believe what I am hearing. Then again, I can. I think back to the first time I let Garrett fuck me in all three holes. He said he wanted to try something different, so he asked to see my toy collection. I got out of bed and walked him into my closet, opened up my secret chest full of sex goodies and gadgets, and watched him rummage through it. He pulled out my anal rocket and leather gag, then took me by the hand and pulled me back to the bed. To say the least, I was shocked, but so fucking turned on. He tied the gag around my mouth, told me to get on my knees and to spread open my ass cheeks. Then he ran his tongue along the crack of my ass before sticking his tongue in my hole while fingering my pussy. After he got my ass nice and wet, he slowly pushed the anal rocket in, then slid his dick inside my pussy, flipping the rocket on. Oh, my God, I came so damn fast and hard. By the time he finished with me, I was seeing stars. And that’s when I started breaking every fucking rule in my damn ho book with him.
“There are several swingers groups in Jersey and in the New York area we can check out, and a club in Charlotte, North Carolina I’d like to take you to.”
I blink, bringing my attention back to Garrett. I stare at him in disbelief. It is all sounding too good to be true. Fucking him and Wade, together, immediately pops into my mind. I feel myself starting to salivate, and hyperventilate all at once. And this is the first time in weeks my pussy starts to twitch and tingle and marinate in its juices.
“But what if I wanted you to just sit back and jerk off, watching the show?”
“Then I’d be cool with that as well. I’m open to a lot of things, when it comes to you. All I’m asking you to do is step outside of your box for a while, and let’s explore sex together. We can take it slow.”
“Garrett, listen—” the doorbell rings. “I can’t have this discussion right now.” I open the door, and I’m relieved that it’s my driver. I point to my bags, then tell him I will be out shortly as he carries them out to the car. Garrett gets up from his seat. He watches me as I put on my coat. His eyes lock on mine, then travel to my stomach. He’s slowly undressing me. I quickly button my coat. He walks up into my space.
“No pressures. No strings. Just straight fucking, however, wherever, whenever you want this dick.” I open my mouth to speak. Prepare to tell him that I can’t make him any promises, but he places his finger to my lips. “Sshh, don’t answer now.”
“Garrett—”
He presses his lips against mine, shutting me up. When he pulls back, I am stunned. “You can’t stop me from loving you,” he states. “But, you can stop me from seeing you. However, I don’t think that’s something you really want. I know you feel what I feel. But you need to figure that out. Go out, fuck who you want. Do you, baby. But know that when you’re ready, there’s a good man willing and ready to love you.”
I pull in my bottom lip, taking a deep breath. “I gotta go,” I say. “But we really need to talk about some things when I return.”
He kisses me again. “I’ll be here waiting.”
Tell him. He deserves to know.
“Um, Garrett, I—I—”
“Yes, what is it?”
Tell him.
“Um, enjoy your holidays.”
He smiles. “You enjoy yours as well. Be safe over there.”
“Thanks, I will.” I look around the house one last time to make sure I have turned everything off, then set the alarm.
Garrett walks out with me. “I’ll be thinking about you.”
I offer him a smile as he opens the limo door. He closes it once I am in, then stands in my driveway and watches as we drive away before getting into his car. I take another deep breath, then slowly exhale. I hope I haven’t made a mistake, I think, laying my head back, rubbing my stomach.
Ho, you did what was in your heart. It was what you had to do.
Humph, I guess. As far as I’m concerned, all the ho had to do was make sure the nigga had a condom on. Now look at your ass. So much for bragging about never being pregnant.
Well, you’ve had a good run. Maybe this is a sign for you to stop chasing Mr. Goodbars, and think about giving Garrett a chance. Hell, he’s fine, the dick’s good, and he fucks like a stallion. And now he’s talking about swinging ’n shit. Ho, that gives you an open invitation to feast on an assortment of dicks, and still have a man of your own. It can’t get any better than that. And if shit works out between the two of you, cool. If it doesn’t, then you can always take your ass back out on the ho-stroll.
I shake my head, staring out of the window, lost in thought all the way to the airport.
“We are now ready to board Lufthansa flight 403 from Newark to Frankfurt,” the attendant says over the intercom. “Passengers flying business and first class can now board.” I gather my things, and move towards the line. When I finally get to my seat, I buckle up, then lean my head back and sigh, closing my eyes.
When the flight reaches flying altitude, I peer out into the clouds. Allow myself to get lost in the peacefulness of their fluffy whiteness. The sound of a suction machine cuts into the quietness, and instinctively, I clutch my stomach. I remember hearing somewhere that it’s better to regret having done something, than to regret not having done it at all, or something like that. I think back on that afternoon in Dr. Krishna’s office, pulling in my bottom lip. I fight back tears. Then I do something I haven’t done in years, I find myself wondering about my life beyond a stiff dick. I decide to use this getaway to reflect, consider making some changes in my life. That’s not to say I’m dismissing the idea of fucking some exotic-looking, authentic African dick while I’m over in Egypt.
Ho, the only thing you’re gonna end up with is some exotic shit your ass can’t get rid of, so if I were you I’d think about keeping your legs shut. Get your mind right, and put fucking to the side for a minute. You have more pressing shit to tend to.
I sigh, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Excuse me, did you say something?” a very handsome, very sexy, distinguished-looking Italian man asks, looking over at me.
“Oh, no,” I say, meeting his gaze. Damn this man is sexy. “I was thinking out loud.”
He smiles, knowingly, then goes back to his Sudoku puzzle.
Garrett’s voice plays in my head. You can’t stop me from loving you…Have you ever thought that maybe you might have an addiction? But know that when you’re ready, there’s a good man willing and ready to love you.
Damn you, Garrett! I shift in my seat, then out of nowhere, I get this crazy idea, wondering what a woman would say to her pussy if she had to write it a letter. The thought makes me laugh. I reach for my bag underneath the seat in front of me. I pull out a notepad and pen, then write:
Dear Pussy,
Some may say that over the years I have misused you, and even abused you. That I have taken you for granted, that I have been disrespectful to you. But the truth is I love you, dear pussy. I love all things you represent: womanhood, femininity, strength, the valley that brings life into the world. I love the way you feel, the way you purr when you are being stroked just right, the way you roar in delight when you’re being fucked. I love the sweet, musky scent you emit when you become overly excited from gripping and slurping in a thick dick. I love the way your walls shiver, the way your lips swell, the way your clit tingles when you are on the brink of an orgasm. I love the way your juices slosh and splash along the sides of a dick as it’s being thrust in and out of you, deeply and purposefully. The way you greedily milk the dick, causing a man to scream out in ecstasy. Oh, yes, my beautiful pussy, there’s nothing more magnificent than you. You have the power to make a man’s eyes roll up in the back of his head, make his toes curl, have him forget his name. It is you who can bring a man to his knees, have him losing his mind over you. It is you they beg for, and crave for.
Some may say I hate you for the number of men I have allowed to enjoy you, even when they were not deserving of your goodness. But you see, my precious pussy, I heard your whispers in the still of the night, felt your aching, for a beautiful black dick. I listened to your sweet pleas for pleasure. And I took heed, not caring if he was worthy of you or not. His worth wasn’t, and isn’t, important to me. What hangs between his legs is. And his ability to feed your hunger, to quench your thirst. For a good dick and a good fucking is all I care about. And with each man I have invited inside of you, to be engulfed by your warmth and wetness, I have relished your moans of satisfaction.
Why would I forsake you? You have been good to me. You, my precious pussy, are the keeper of joy and pleasure and pain; the receiver of a man’s spirit. And when you open your floodgates, all things good and bad flow from the center of you in abundance, allowing you to cleanse.
Carelessly, I have allowed one man to plant his spirit in you, and now his seed has taken root, and will bring forth a child, my child. One I am ambivalent about having. But I couldn’t go through with that abortion. I just couldn’t. So, I don’t know what this will mean for me, or for you. I can’t promise you that I won’t continue to fuck while I am pregnant, but I will promise, no, no…I’ll try, not to fuck with wild abandon for a while. I can’t make any guarantees. ’Cause I love to fuck. And I love how fucking makes you feel. You are very special to me. I appreciate you. I adore you. We are connected. I am my pussy. And my pussy is me.
Love always,
I reread it, then chuckled to myself, shaking my head. What a hot damn mess, I think, neatly folding it then slipping it inside my purse. I’m not only a dick-loving ho, but now I’m a pregnant one. Isn’t that some shit?
I purse my lips, thinking about this pregnancy. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Everything happens for a reason. Be thankful that out of all the dicks you’ve fucked you didn’t end up with something deadly. Be thankful it was Garrett who bust up in you raw, and got you pregnant. He’ll be a good father.
I take a deep breath, deciding to tell Garrett that I am carrying his child the minute I return from my trip; that I am open to exploring the swingers’ scene with him; that I want to have a threesome with him and Wade. I will tell him that I will give him a chance, but the minute he starts smothering me, or stressing me, or getting on my damn nerves, all bets are off.
I glance over at the handsome passenger sitting next to me and catch him eyeing me. He is no longer working on his puzzle. Instead, he is sipping on a glass of champagne. By the look in his eyes, he’s had more than one glass. I take in his clean-shaven face. Admire his tanned skin, dark eyes and chiseled features. I don’t see any ring on his thick finger.
“Are you married?” I decide to ask.
“Divorced,” he answers. “And you?”
I glance down in his crotch. “Extremely horny,” I say in a whisper, slowly licking my lips.
He gives me a mischievous smirk, taking a long gulp from his flute.
“You know, I was staring at you earlier. You are a very beautiful woman.”
“Thank you.” I lean into his ear again and whisper. “Have you ever slipped your dick into a black woman?”
“I love all women, Beautiful,” he says. “I don’t discriminate. Will you be staying in Frankfurt?”
“No, I’m catching a connecting flight to Cairo,” I share.
“That’s too bad. I would have loved to continue this discussion, and perhaps further explore each other’s passions, in a more private setting.”
I look around the spacious cabin. There is only a sprinkle of people flying first class. “Well, it’ll be dark soon. And we still have several hours before we land.” I pause, giving him time to absorb what I am offering. I reach for my purse and discreetly pull out a box of condoms. He nods, knowingly. “Perhaps,” I continue, lightly touching his knee, “I can entice you to some slow, wet head, then a little dose of sweet pussy.”
He lifts his flute, grinning. “Perhaps you can.” He squeezes his legs shut, allowing me to see the meaty bulge that has formed in his lap. I fight the urge to touch it, to stroke it against the fabric of his slacks.
“In another hour, I will slip into the bathroom. Wait five minutes, to make sure no one is paying attention, then come in behind me.”
He finishes his drink, licking his lips. This time he leans over towards me and whispers in my ear, “And I’m going to fuck that sweet black pussy like no other man has.”
I lean my head back, and smile. The thought of giving a stranger some of this juicy pregnant pussy excites me and is making my panties wet. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Why should I pass up this opportunity to get fucked on a plane? Oh, alright, if it’d make some of you judgmental hoes feel better, how ’bout I let him fuck me in the ass, depending on how fat his dick is, instead of giving him some pussy? Would that make you feel better? Geesh. Then again, I don’t give a hot shit what the hell any of you think. I’m a grown ass woman! My slick cunt muscles constrict. Oh, yes, I think, shifting in my seat. I’m gonna suck and fuck the shit out of this fine-ass man. Hell, I’m knocked up, not disabled. Besides, I’m the Man Handler, baby. And I love to fuck!