by M. T. Pope
“It’s your choice.” I finally spoke. “You won and I lost.”
“Are you okay?” He looked at me seriously. He was always concerned about me, even when we were having fun.
“Yeah, man. I’m cool. Just a little winded.”
“You know that gym membership is always available if you want to use it. I got plenty of friend passes.” He walked up to me and pushed a finger into my stomach, causing me to flinch like I was the Pillsbury Doughboy. I quickly swatted his hand away and began to make my way down toward the bottom of the fake mountain side.
When we got to the bottom he asked me again. “Just try it once. You just might like it.”
“It’s not for me,” I said as we walked toward the locker section. I noticed a guy looking at me and I knew who and what he was. I did him too. I didn’t remember his name but I did remember our sexual encounter. He was a preppy black guy who was built like a brick house: a solid body all over and he was gorgeous. The sad truth was that he was a part of the itty bitty committee. I thought my pinky finger was bigger than he was at full erection. I played it off when he “fucked” me, but the truth was I didn’t feel a thing. He just pumped and pumped feverishly and then collapsed on top of my back. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.
I got a real uneasy feeling as dude made his way toward us. I mean, yes, I wanted to get a nut off soon, but he just didn’t do it for me. I was in the “get fucked” mood and he definitely couldn’t do that with what he was working with. I was hoping that he wasn’t going to embarrass himself and me by coming over here and trying to have a conversation.
“Let’s go.” I quickly grabbed my stuff and made my way toward the exit.
“What’s wrong?” Carlos said as he caught up to me.
“I’m hungry . . . real hungry.” I was moving fast, because I didn’t like being put into those situations and I didn’t like to bring Carlos into any drama that I caused. The recklessness in my sex life was getting out of hand, to say the least.
In the past year, I thought I had slept with about twenty-five men, and that was an estimate. That wasn’t a number I was proud of. But, when you have a monkey on your back, this type of behavior is quite easy.
“Damn, man. I would have thought you had diarrhea or something. You were moving fast.” He chuckled as we hopped into his truck and pulled off.
“Sorry, man. It just hit me all of a sudden.” As he was driving, I looked up at the rearview mirror and saw the guy hopping into his own truck and coming behind us. As we stopped at the light to get out on to the street, I prayed that dude wasn’t crazy or anything like that. I hoped to God that he didn’t follow us. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to panic, so I played it cool. I turned on the CD player and blasted some Black Eyed Peas that Carlos must have been playing before he got to my house. The light changed and the other guy went the other way. I almost did a hallelujah dance in my seat, but I danced in my head instead.
We ended up going to Chipotle Mexican Grill on Goucher Boulevard in Towson. It was one of our favorite eateries and it kind of relieved the pressure I was feeling from minutes ago. I couldn’t do this too much longer.
We got in line and we placed our orders. As usual, I had three soft tacos with spicy steak and Carlos opted for the big burrito. I wondered how he ate more than me but continued to look fitter than me. The gym can’t be helping him that much! I shook my head in disgust, because it was evident that I needed to be on the workout plan that he was doing, instead of working over men.
“Hey, Mr. Holmes!” I heard a woman’s squeaky voice as I bit into one of my soft tacos.
I looked up to see a skinny black chick standing in front of me. And to make things worse her husband, Howard, was standing right beside her. Again, I knew him and he knew me. I instantly lost my appetite. Damn! I can’t go anywhere without something going south for the winter. Play this cool, Kraig. You got this.
“Heyyy! How are you doing?” I acted like I was happy to see them. I was cringing on the inside.
“Howard spotted you from across the room and said that you were the one who did our kitchen over.”
I bet he did.
She didn’t let on that I talked to her the other day and I kicked myself for forgetting to call her husband to cut him off. “We just had to come over here in person and thank you together.” Why in the hell were they on this side of town was what I wanted to ask them, but I knew that was of no consequence. It was a free country and all of that. It was just too close for comfort.
I watched as his arm squeezed around her waist as if they were the perfect couple. I wasn’t the home-wrecker type, meaning I didn’t let the wife in on what her husband was doing. No kissing and telling for me. I just did you or you did me and we kept it neutral. I didn’t ask for anything and they weren’t expecting to get anything from me more than a quick nut. It was her job to know that he liked dick and pussy. Not mine.
“Yeah, man. I—I mean, we—we were wondering if you could come back to do some more work.” The look in his eyes was like he was pleading for another go at me or another piece of my wood, because he was a dick taker in this situation. He was the aggressor when I was in his house and I took full advantage of him and I fucked him freely. I knew I did his ass good when he walk bowlegged for a few minutes after we finished. Now he wanted seconds. It wasn’t going to happen.
“We have so much work that you could do for us.” She smiled. She didn’t know she was screwing herself over. Well, technically it was her husband who was getting screwed, but I was trying to get out of this situation as best I could. I didn’t want to be put on the spot. I looked at Carlos, who was still eating his burrito. I wondered if he was even listening to what was going on.
“Well, I don’t think that is going to be possible right now. I am extremely booked.”
“I’m sure you could squeeze it in . . . I mean us in.” The husband slipped up but caught himself before his wife could catch on to what he really meant. To be truthful, I didn’t think she would ever get it. He was the stay-at-home type from what he told me in the brief conversation we had at his house. She was doing all the work and his ass was lying around doing nothing. I think he even mentioned he was on disability for depression or something like that. He was talking while I was working and I tried to get out his house because I felt him staring me down most of the time that I was there. I finally gave in when he smacked my ass. He said that there was a bug on my pants, but I knew what was going on after he did that. I fucked him across the new granite counter that I had just installed the day before. I did a good muthafuckin’ job, too, because I fucked him good and it never budged.
“No, that is not doable. I put pride in my work and I wouldn’t feel comfortable squeezing you into my schedule. It just would be right.” I looked dead at the husband in his eyes when I said the last part. His lazy ass didn’t deserve his wife, but again, I wasn’t a snitch, so she was on her own. She would find out soon enough. I just hoped that he would be man enough to let her know the truth or leave men alone for good.
“Awww . . . That’s too bad. I really liked your work and my hubby here spoke highly of you.” She put her head on his shoulder like he was husband of the year. I felt like scum for the part I played in this mess. I was guilty too.
I was guilty of aiding and abetting in the fooling of his wife. Why couldn’t I just get involved with a single guy and leave these married men alone? Single men were boring, that’s why. I needed that thrill and that rush of almost getting caught and the danger of lingering so near to the edge of a cliff and peering over it just to get the heart pumping. Married men wanted rough and fast and they didn’t want to talk afterward; maybe before, but that was just to convince you to participate or feel sorry for them. I was just supplying a need . . . Yeah, supply and demand. That is what I was doing.
“I know, maybe sometime in the future.” I put on my pitiful look, playing like I was disappointed. They walked away like they had lost their best
friend. I was happy I dodged another bullet.
“Dude, you must have some bomb skills.” Carlos laughed after they walked away from the table.
If you only knew!
“They were damn near begging you,” he boasted.
“Yeah, what can I say? I aim to please.” I grabbed me a taco and resumed eating my meal. I was going have to slow the hell down for sure. Things were getting way too tight. I was running out of places to go without running into fuck buddies.
We finished eating and Carlos drove me to my house. I stripped down to my boxers and lay on my sofa in a funk. I flipped on my plasma television and switched it to the oldies music station. I needed to hear some good music to soothe my mind. Ironically, Betty Wright’s “Clean Up Woman” was playing on the station. I sang the words to the song to myself as I replaced the word “woman” with “man.” It was the story of my life. Well, not all of it. I wasn’t always a clean up man.
It was on a Saturday, in spring, on a day much like today, when I was all alone in my room on campus at Howard University. Carlos was back in Baltimore visiting his family that weekend. I decided to stay on campus to get some work done. After a couple of hours of studying, I got bored and was itching to get into something. Usually when I felt like that Carlos was there and we would do something wild together. He was the really the only person I dealt with on campus and in life. That was with the exception of one frat dude I would talk to from time to time in the library when I was studying. We exchanged numbers because he said he would invite me over to a party one night. I told him I wasn’t really a party person and I probably would never go to one. I wasn’t the drinking type and I knew that there would be alcohol at these parties.
Well, he called that night to invite me over and things progressed from there.
The vibrating of my phone startled me. I didn’t even look at the caller ID because Carlos said he would be calling me and usually he did.
“Heyyyy,” I smiled as I flipped my phone open and spoke. “It took you long enough.”
“Excuse me?” Jarrod spoke, sounding confused.
I was dumbfounded for a minute myself. “Oh, my bad. I thought you were somebody else,” I confessed.
“That’s all right, dude. I totally understand. Am I catching you at a bad time?”
“Nah, you are good. I was just waiting on a call.” I sat up in my bed and briefly looked out of the window.
“I was just calling you to see if you wanted to come on over to the frat house for a little bit and hang out.”
“Nah, man. Parties are not my speed. And I don’t do the drink thing.”
“I know, man. You’ve told me that before.” He sounded a little hard-pressed. I kind of held the phone from my face and looked at it. I wasn’t sure if he was getting offended. “I thought that if you would see the environment and all of that when no one else was here, you would consider pledging with us.”
“I don’t know, man.”
“C’mon, son. Stop being all shy and shit. You’re in college now. Leave that high school shit back in high school. I’m just asking you to come over to the frat house and chill with me a li’l bit.”
I breathed out a little bit. I didn’t like to be talked to any kind of way. “All right, man, but just for a little bit.” He gave me the address and I got dressed in some Lakers basketball shorts and a white tee. I jumped in my truck and drove like ten minutes to the frat house. It was in a residential area, which seemed strange to me. The fact that they actually rented out a house to do all this fraternity stuff blew my mind.
I parked my truck on the street beside the house and walked around corner and into the gated yard. I was still feeling some kind of way about this, but I shook it off and decide that there was no harm in taking a look. I knocked on the door and Jarrod answered within a few seconds. Jarrod was the typical guy with cornrows in his hair. He was chocolate with a small, thin mustache. He was dressed in sweatpants that hung off of his butt a little, and he had a Howard University T-shirt on.
“Glad you decided to come on over and get out of that stuffy dorm.” Jarrod was an upperclassman so I figured he lived off campus.
I walked in and looked around a little bit as we walked toward a room with a big-screen television and couple of sofas. There were pictures of groups of men with the fraternity logo on their shirts. There were dozens of them and I assumed that most of them were past members.
Once we entered the room I saw that there was a basketball game playing on the television.
“Sit down and get comfortable. I’ll be right back with some snacks.” He exited the room.
I sat back on the sofa and watched the game as it played. Seconds later, Jarrod came back into the room with a couple of beers, a bottle of brown liquor, and bag of weed. I looked at him, confused, but I didn’t say anything. I thought it would have been rude to. He sat down on the same sofa as me about a foot or two away from me. I continued to look at the television, feeling out of place.
“So what can I do to convince you to pledge?” he asked as he opened a beer and took a swig.
“I’m not sure I am ready to pledge a fraternity. I am trying to stay focused with studies. I heard y’all be having mad parties. I don’t think I am ready for all of that just yet.”
“I feel you on that, but that is not all that we do. We have functions for a variety of charities and we have fundraisers that help the homeless and the abused. We don’t just party all the time.” He sounded a little offended.
“I’m sorry for assuming about the party stuff. I should have come and found out for myself instead of going by what other people say.”
“You right about it,” he agreed. “That is why I invited you over, to get you comfortable with the surroundings and get to know you a little better.”
“What? Am I like a project or something?” I turned and asked. I had a small attitude. I wasn’t into being a lab rat or something like that.
“Nah, dude. You here because I like you and I think you could do well with our fraternity.”
“Oh . . . Okay.” I nodded my head a little.
“Dude, chill. Grab one of those beers and relax. This is how we do it here. It’s not all party. We chill and relax, too.” He laughed. I felt a little better after his last statement.
I reached over and grabbed me a Heineken beer. It was my first and it was strong going down. It had a horrible taste, but after a few more swigs I got used to the taste. A few minutes later, I felt different. I assumed it was the effects of the beer and my body reacting to something new.
“How you feeling?” he asked as he reached over and grabbed the brown bottle off of the table. The label had BACARDI on it. He opened it and threw his head back real quick and wiped his mouth in the process.
“I’m feeling okay.” I had to be honest. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
“Good. Now take a swig of this. It will put hair on your chest.” He laughed as he passed me the bottle.
Don’t do it, Kraig! I heard my conscience speak. I usually listened to myself, but I looked at dude and he looked so relaxed and chilled. It looked harmless, so I threw caution to the wind and went for it. I threw my head back just like he did, but that shit felt like fire going down my throat. I gagged and coughed for a few seconds, trying to get myself together. A few tears slid down my face; I guessed it was a reaction of my body.
Jarrod reared back and laughed heartily. I was still in a little shock as I sat back on the sofa and closed my eyes a little bit. The pain in my throat had worn off, but I was a little woozy.
“You still alive over there?” I heard him chuckle a little.
I sat back up and looked at the bottle that was now sitting back on the table, and I shook my head. “Man, that was rough.” I smiled.
“That was my first reaction too. Now it doesn’t hurt when I drink at all.”
I’m not doing that shit again in my life.
“So you trust me now?” he asked with a serious look on his face
.
“Yeah, you cool.” I nodded my head.
I went back to watching the game on the television. He did the same. About fifteen minutes passed by before he reached for the bag of weed that was sitting on the table. I was very familiar with weed. That was all too familiar to me. After me and Carlos graduated from high school we thought it would be cool to cop some and get our smoke on. It was our first and last time. We ended up buying from a cop and getting locked up. We both only got a couple of days, but I knew that jail was not for me. That charge was still on both of our records to this day, since we were eighteen at the time. My mom was pissed about that for a long, long time.
“You want some?” he said, licking and rolling up a joint. He started smoking it and it looked like he was enjoying every moment.
“Sure.” I reached over and took the joint as he handed it to me. I placed it to my mouth and inhaled. I coughed a few times before I got the hang of it. Before long we were puffing and passing up ‘til it was all gone. We both sat back again and just breathed. I was feeling quite high and it was a good feeling to me.
A couple seconds later he grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels on the television until he got to the porn station.
A black man and woman were getting it in on the screen. My dick instantly became hard. I looked over at Jarrod, who had his hand down in his sweatpants, pulling at himself. I was shocked that he felt comfortable enough to do that in front of another man. I thought jerking off was an alone thing.
“Dude, I’m about to bust this nut. You all right?” I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded my head. He went on with it. My shit was rock hard as well, but I didn’t know the rules in this type of situation. Jarrod was going to town and I was watching the screen, trying to contain myself.
“Dude, what are you waiting on? This shit is blazing. Pull your shit out and do you. This is between us. Nobody will know about this,” he said as he continued to jerk himself.
