by Cairo
But, nope!
If I get on top and ride him, it’s a wrap. If I give him the back shot…oh, it’s definitely lights out. Forget it. Ten minutes in, and he’s splattering the inside of my guts.
I’m starting to think that maybe these big bouncy titties, and these thick hips, and this big, juicy ass, and this wet pussy are too much for him.
No, wait…I know they are.
Lolita Singleton is too hot to handle, boo. Okay?
Shit. I know I’m a bad, full-figured bitch with a wet, juicy pussy.
Hell, I’d fuck the shit out of me, if I could.
And probably nut fast, too, I muse.
But I’d at least want to try to extend my performance. Shit. Roosevelt isn’t even forty yet and he’s suffering from premature ejaculation, by my own definition, of course. Maybe it isn’t that premature, but it’s still an inconvenience. And puts a hardship on my throbbing cunt.
I told Roosevelt he should start doing some pelvic exercises to get this situation under control.
“Like what?” he asked suspiciously.
“Kegel exercises,” I calmly stated.
He just laughed.
I gave him another one of my blank stares, thinking, “Nigga, there’s nothing funny about you half-fucking me, leaving my pussy growling with hunger!”
Hell, I even bought a book on Tantric techniques. Told him it would help deepen our connection. And help maximize our pleasure. Code for: help keep your dick in my pussy longer. But Roosevelt, bless his heart, just wasn’t able to connect the dots. So, as usual, I let it go. I know I have a good man. So, of course, I’d never make him feel any less of a man. I’d never want him to feel inadequate. All I could do, all I ever do, is gently encourage him to give it some thought, for us.
I let him know Kegel exercises aren’t only for women; that men can benefit from them too, that many need to, like him.
But, being the stubborn man he is, he doesn’t see his quick spraying of his man milk as a sexual problem, the way I do. So without, making him feel emasculated, I keep encouraging, keep nudging, keep hoping…that one day, soon, he gets it.
I’m still waiting…
Roosevelt grunts, pulling me out of my reverie. His dick goes in deep, then swiftly glides up and out of me, grazing my clitoris as he does. He plunges back in.
I swallow a scream.
My eyes roll back in my head.
Please don’t come quick…
“Slow down, baby…please…ooh…”
He bites into my neck, causing me to cry out. “Yes, God, yessss!”
He grunts against my flesh. “God can’t help you now, baby. Motherfuckin’ good pussy…aaah, shit!”
He grabs my face and smashes his lips against mine. Tongue and teeth and succulent lips entice me. Seduce me. His dick hits my spot again, and I groan into his mouth.
Yes, the dick is good. Ooh, God, yes. I won’t ever lie on how good it is. The sweet burn that stretches all through my canal, sweeping over my cervix.
But, but, oh, God…
I give in to his urging need. Give in to the rapid thrusts of his dick. “Give it to me, daddy,” I say, grabbing his ass and digging my nails into his flesh.
“So fucking wet,” he murmurs.
I grunt in spite of myself. His delicious strokes overheat my cunt. “Mmm-hmm. Yes, wet for you. Fuck me. Fuck this pussy…”
“Here it comes, baby. It’s coming, coming…shitgoddamn…”
“No, no, wait…please, baby…not yet…”
“It’s too late, baby. Pussy too, aah, good…”
Roosevelt’s dick swells thicker. “Can’t hold out…”
“Aaah, aaah, aaah…”
Lord, God, I beg of you…
In spite of my dismay that Roosevelt’s about to fill my cunt with his heated seeds, my pussy clings to his dick, gripping his shaft. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, it feels so good. But I’m not ready for it to end. Not yet. No, no, no.
He pulls out, then slams back in, deep. One hard thrust after another. And another. And another. He’s fucking me hard and fast.
“Please, baby…slow down,” I beg, my body trembling under the weight of his thrusts. “Not yet. Please, please…ooh, ooh, not yet, baby…God, no…uhhh…”
My moans, my quaking pussy, defy what’s in my thudding heart, what’s stirring in my swooning head. The aching need for more than what Roosevelt is capable of giving…
All I want, all I ever want.
Carnal touch.
Mouth, tongue, dick.
Wet licks.
Deep strokes.
Long-lasting dick.
Roosevelt’s body shudders.
My pussy floods with warmth and thick cream.
And all I can think is, this is a goddamn tragedy!
TWO
“Ooooh, you scandalous bitch,” my sister Mecca says, leaning in, propping her elbows up on the table. “How the heck are you going to sneak off to a romantic island and not take your man?”
Over lunch, I shared with Mecca that I’ve planned a trip to St. Lucia next week. A trip I booked spur of the moment, after getting an email alert for last-minute deals flying out of LaGuardia Airport to Caribbean destinations.
I chose St. Lucia.
Chose to live on the edge a little.
Alone.
And what happens in St. Lucia stays in St. Lucia.
I shrug, reaching for my glass of wine. “Easy. I booked the flight. Then told Roosevelt I was going away with a few of my sorors for the weekend.”
“And he was okay with that?”
“Of course he was.”
She tosses her weave, swiping her bang from out of her eye. “Well, why didn’t I get an invite, heifer?”
“Because I don’t want your happily married ass becoming an accomplice to anything I may or may not do while I’m soaking in the sunshine, and the sights.”
“An accomplice?” She laughs. “Oh, please. To what?”
“To whatever the universe and the gods have in store for me. You do remember what happened to Stella, don’t you?”
She smacks her lips together. “Uh-huh. And you see what happened to that old, thirsty bitch.”
I laugh. “Well, I ain’t old. And I ain’t thirsty.”
“Well, bitch, what groove are you trying to get back then? Wait.” She gives me a hard stare, raising her brow. “Is there trouble in paradise? Things with you and Roosevelt are good, right?”
“Yes, yes…of course. Things are great with us.”
In dramatic form, she collapses back in her seat, placing a hand over her heart. “Whew. That’s good to know. My heart couldn’t handle the two of you being on the outs. The way Roosevelt looks at you, with so much love.” She shakes her head. “Mmph.”
“Girl, you know I know. That man loves me endlessly.”
“Uh-huh, I know he does, which is why I’m still struggling to understand why you are going to St. Lucia. Alone. Not unless…?”
I raise a brow. “Not unless what?”
She shakes her head. “No. Never mind.”
I smirk. “No, say it.”
She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “Oooh, wait one goddamn minute. Say it ain’t so, slut? You’re whisking off to St. Lucia to be with a sidepiece, aren’t you?”
I laugh. “No, girl, no. There is no sidepiece. Trust.”
And that’s the God honest truth. In the six years I’ve been with Roosevelt, I’ve never fucked anyone other than him more than once. It’s always a one-night stand. No names given. No numbers exchanged. And I’ve only cheated on him twice, well, okay…three times. But the last time didn’t really count. All he did was eat my pussy and licked my ass until my eyes crossed.
There was no penetration, and I didn’t suck him, although I wanted to lick him from his shaft to the tip. Yes, God! I wanted my mouth stuffed with his dick, badly. But, he wasn’t interested in being sucked, just devouring my cunt and my ass with his luscious lips and slick tongue.
&
nbsp; “Lies,” Mecca hisses.
I hold my hand up. “I swear to you, girl; hand to God. There’s no sidepiece, no jump-off, nothing.”
She tilts her head. “Uh-huh. Speaking of sidepieces, have you ever…?”
I give her an incredulous look. “What, cheated on Roosevelt?”
“Yeah. And don’t lie.”
As close as Mecca and I are, there are still some things that are not up for discussion, my occasional indiscretions being one of them. As much as I trust my sister, sharing with her how angry my pussy gets, at how disgruntled it is, with Roosevelt’s lack of nut control, is a no-no. Those kind of personal details are not something you share with anyone, especially about your man. A one-night stand, yes. You gossip about that, if you must. But anything pertaining to sex with a significant other is off limits.
Sister or not, discussing what my man does or doesn’t do in the sheets is not up for review, or critique. I learned a long time ago, what’s not good for one bitch is always good for two others.
And fast-nut or not, Roosevelt’s big-dicked ass might come quicker than I’d like, but he’s my goddamn quick nut. And I’ll be damned if I open the door to let another bitch waltz in to get a taste, or a ride up on that.
I look Mecca dead in her face and say, “Never. Have you?”
She frowns. “What, cheated on Ricky? Girl, no, I don’t play them kinda bed games. As a matter of fact, change that to hell no. As much as Ricky does for me, I wish the hell I would. There’s not a dick big enough to ever get me to spread open my legs to fuck over what I have at home.” She shakes her head. “Oh, no, boo-boo. That man’s the love of my life. There’s not another out here who can ever hold a candle to him.”
I smile knowingly.
Aside from being damn good to her, Ricky’s the only man she’s ever been with. They were high school sweethearts, then college lovers, and now…married with three kids.
The perfect love story.
She places her wineglass to her lips, and takes a quick sip. “I can’t believe you’d ask me some mess like that. Girl, please.”
I shrug. “Well, you asked me, so I thought I’d return the favor.”
She sucks her teeth. “Bitch, but I’m not the one trolling off to an island…alone; remember?”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Girl, stop. All it is is a quick getaway for a little rest and relaxation. That’s it.”
She eyes me. Twists her lips. “Mm-hmm. Okay, Stella. And out of all the places to go for a little R and R, you just happen to choose a Caribbean island instead of a quaint little Bed and Breakfast somewhere up in the mountains here, in Jersey?”
I grin. “What can I say, I wanted some Caribbean heat.”
“Yeah, okay. Heat my ass. You want trouble, bitch.”
I laugh. “Lies! Girl, you’re talking like I’m going down there to fornicate or something.”
She twists her lips. “Mm-hmm. Whatever. Toss around big words if you want. Let’s see what happens when you find your ass tossed up on one of those big island dicks. Then what?”
“Then nothing,” I say, flicking imaginary lint from my blouse. “I’m not going down there to be tossed up on any island dick, so get your mind out of the gutter.”
Well, that’s partially true. I mean, subconsciously, yes, I was still agitated with Roosevelt for not serving me up another hard round of dick right on the spot when I booked my flight.
And, yes, the thought of a sweaty romp in the sheets with some Zulu warrior had crossed my mind. But I entertained the idea only for a second. Okay, okay…for a few minutes. Not more than that.
But, flying out there for the sole purpose of getting fucked was, is, not my intention.
Or, subconsciously, is it?
No, no, of course not. I’ve already admitted I’ve cheated on Roosevelt a few times. So, what’s to stop me from doing it again?
Nothing.
But that’s not my intention.
“Okay, I’ll take that,” Mecca says, swiping her bangs over her forehead. “But, I’m going to ask you this one more time, then I’m moving on. You’re going alone?”
I smile, easing my lips to the mouth of my glass, then taking a slow, deliberate sip; purposefully making her wait for my response. Although I am three years her senior, Mecca seems to think she’s the eldest. And I don’t mind letting her wear that crown. It fits her well.
I set my glass down. Finally give her the answer she’s waiting for. “Yesssss, Mecca. I already told you. I’m going alone.”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay. Refresh my memory, again. You’re going waaaay out to St. Lucia, alone, to do what exactly?”
I laugh. “So much for moving on. Geesh. I already told you. To relax. To soak in the sun, and tan.”
“Uh, huh. And get fucked. Don’t do me, boo. What bitch you know flying to a Caribbean island alone, where there are a bunch of horny, big-dick islanders eager to please, unless she’s got some hard dick already over there on speed dial, or she’s in search for some?”
I give her a dismissive wave. “You’re watching too much late-night television. For the umpteenth time, there’s no other hard dick besides Roosevelt’s.”
She smacks her lips. “Okay, if you say so. Annnnnd, tell me again, for the third time before I really move on this time. Why is it you’re going alone?”
I can’t help but laugh at her ass. She can’t help herself. Nosey-ass. “Girl, stop. You know I’ve been saying I needed a getaway for months now.”
She sucks her teeth. “Uh, yeah, with your man, or me. Not whisking off to some spicy island alone, where God knows what could happen to you.”
“I’m not whisking off, as you say, anywhere. I’m taking a well-needed getaway. Period. Hell. I deserve it. The way things have been at work the last several months, it’s a surprise I haven’t become a pill-popping junkie and alcoholic, messing with those petty bitches.”
Mecca grunts. “Mmmph. I don’t know how you do it, girl, putting up with them messy bitches. I told you what to do. Slide your hand up in one of them bitch’s scalps, and yank her damn tracks out. That’ll stop them bitches from fucking with you. Rip a bitch’s edges out and that’ll shut her up and sit her ass down real quick.”
I laugh. “Uh-uh. Girl, I can’t with you. And have me standing in a police lineup. Not. I’m not even about to fuck up my pension behind some catty-ass women who don’t know how to work in a so-called professional environment.”
Mecca rolls her eyes. “That’s what the county gets for hiring them back-to-work bitches. Them hoes done got a little county job and some benefits, and now they think they’re stars.”
I continue laughing. “A damn mess.”
“Uh-huh. Now back to your messy ass,” she says. “Why didn’t you tell Roosevelt what your plans were instead of lying to him?”
This bitch…
“Because I didn’t want him to go,” I say defensively, tilting my head. “That’s why. And he would have wanted to go if I told him.”
I take a sip from my wineglass.
She bats her lashes. “Uh, yeah. You think? Of course he’d want to go. It’s a Caribbean island for lovers. And single hoes.”
I cough, almost choking on my drink. “Ooh, you dead wrong for that.”
She chuckles. “But you know I’m right.”
“Whatever. Bottom line, I wanted to go it alone. And I am. Besides, it works out perfect since Roosevelt’s flying out to Atlanta to meet up with a few of his frat brothers for the weekend.”
She raises her brow. “Oh, so the both of you are gonna be off tricking, I see.”
I laugh. “It’s Morehouse’s homecoming. You know he goes every year.”
“Yeah, but your hot-ass isn’t sneaking off to some romantic island every year for some salacious rendezvous, either.”
I throw my head back, and laugh. “Girl, you’re crazy. There’s no rendezvous. And there’s nothing salacious about wanting to travel to an island, alone.”
She rolls her ey
es. “Whatever. Smells like trouble to me.”
I smile coyly. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
She twists her lips. “Mm-hmm. Trouble might be looking for you.”
I grin, wiggling my eyebrows. “Which is exactly why I didn’t want you to go. What you don’t know, or see, can’t implicate you.”
She grabs her napkin from off her lap and tosses it at me. “Bitch, don’t.”
I laugh. “Mecca, girl, you know I’m only teasing. I love Roosevelt,” I say honestly. “I’d never do anything purposefully to hurt him, or us.” Well, not if I can get away with it, anyway. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. “Besides, I know how much you adore him. Even if trouble did find me there, your ass would probably tell on me.”
She flicks a dismissive wave at me. “Girl, not on your life. Yes, I do adore Roosevelt. But you’re my sister. I’d curse you the hell out for being a trifling-ass ho, before I’d ever snitch on you, boo. That’s what sisters do.”
I smile. “Awww, I love you, too.”
“True.” She reaches over and grabs my hand. “I know you do. But, seriously, Lita,” she says, calling me by my nickname as she lifts her glass to her lips. “I think you snatched up one of the good ones, girl.”
“I know I did,” I say thoughtfully, raising my glass as well. “He’s my everything.”
Our glasses clink.
“Then whatever you do,” Mecca says, eyeing me. “Don’t fuck him over.”
THREE
“So, you got everything, baby?” Roosevelt says, grabbing my suitcase and carry-on as I step out of our bathroom; wearing a short denim skirt and a white off-the-shoulder blouse that crisscrosses in the front with a pair of orange pumps.
“Yes,” I say, standing in front of the full-length mirror, then screwing on the backs to my diamond studs.
I can feel Roosevelt’s eyes on me as I fasten my earrings in.
I pretend not to see him as he stands there, watching, as I reach for my orange lipstick, then glide a coat over my lips, followed by a coat of lip gloss to make ’em pop, and look real juicy.
