Turned Out by His Hood Mentality 1

by Diamond D Johnson

  The same dick that I tried to bounce on this morning was lying right there on his lap, but I didn’t even want it anymore. All I could think about was the fact that the dick I cry over while he’s sexing me, that I give nasty, sloppy head to, and the dick that’s familiar with every hole in my body could have possibly been in somebody else last night, so I was good.

  “She just walked into the room. I can look at her face and tell that she on some bullshit, though,” Monterius said, speaking about me to whoever he was on the phone with like I wasn’t standing right here.

  “Billion said, what’s good?” Monterius said to me, but I ignored him as I went into the closet. I heard him laugh. “Yep, she on her bullshit,” he said to my cousin.

  They finished their conversation while I walked into the bathroom. I quickly relieved myself, and then I went over to the sink to wash my hands and throw some water on my face. Back in the room, I stepped out of my clothes and threw on a tank top while I kept on the boy shorts. The bed wasn’t made up since Monterius had just gotten out of bed, so I was able to climb in on my side of the bed, pull the covers over my body, and rest my head on the pillow.

  While Monterius spoke on the phone, he turned his head so he could look back at me. I rolled my eyes at him and then looked the other way. Since I was lying on my side, he was able to reach out and playfully slap my thigh, but I scooted away from him. I wasn’t in the mood, and I wanted him to know that.

  “I got you, bruh. Let me figure out what done crawled up your cousin’s ass, and then Ima slide your way. If Twink wanna go, Ima bring her too. Aight,” Monty said, and with that, he tossed the phone on the bed.

  “Yo! What the fuck is wrong with you? You always got a damn attitude. I feel like you beef with me more than you fuck me,” he said, standing up and making his way over to my side of the bed.

  I could see that he was waiting for my reply, but I wasn’t going to. If I did, I was liable to pick up this lamp from the nightstand and throw it at his ass. I hated when niggas acted like they didn’t know what the fuck was wrong. If I didn’t come home until five in the fuckin’ morning and then curved him when he wanted some pussy, he would see a major problem with that. Why is it that when a nigga is fuckin’ up, they can’t seem to see their fuck ups? That shit annoyed the fuck out of me.

  As much as I wanted to ignore him because I knew it would anger him more than anything I could possibly say, the last part of his statement aggravated me. I couldn’t keep quiet.

  “I beef with you more than I fuck you? That’s what you just said, right? Did I or did I not try to get you to fuck me this morning before I left? It’s cool. I’m glad you turned me down because I would have fuckin’ killed your ass if you fucked me after doing another bitch. Get the fuck away from me, Monty. I’m not in the mood for your shit! I have a headache,” I yelled, pulling my feet from under the covers and trying to kick his ass from by me.

  He grabbed my leg and dragged me down to the foot of the bed, then got on top of me. His hands were on either side of my head as he stared down at me as if he was contemplating what to say next. He wasn’t even talking, and I could smell the Colgate toothpaste on his breath mixed with the Listerine. I had to stop looking him in his eyes because those eyes always had a way of hypnotizing me and forcing me to stop being mad at him.

  “Because I didn’t let you have your way this morning, you going to accuse me of fuckin’ another bitch? If that’s the petty shit you gon’ be on, then what nigga was you fuckin’ two nights ago? I was trying to dig in your guts in the kitchen two mornings ago, but you curved me, talking about your stomach was hurting. Twinkle, you know good and fuckin’ well that I was in the fuckin’ streets last night. I was dirty, ma. I wasn’t about to come home and fuck on you, and a nigga ain’t bathed in hours. You looking for a reason to leave me. Why is that?” he asked, but I ignored him. I wasn’t doing this shit with him right now.

  I tried to scoot away, but he wouldn’t let me. He released a sigh and then raised my legs by my ankles and pushed them back on the sides of my head.

  “Monterius, no! Not until you tell me where you were last night,” I said.

  My voice cracked because here I was again, about to say fuck my feelings and allow him to do sexual things to distract me from the major problem that he and I had at.

  “I told you where I was,” he spat and then pulled my boyshorts to the side.

  Monterius went right in for my pussy. The upper part of my body was raised up from the bed, and I was half trying to push him away and half trying to enjoy the feeling of his full lips tongue kissing my pussy lips. I bit down so hard on my bottom lip, to the point that I was close enough to draw blood because I was really trying not to moan out loud. The thing is, it was going to be impossible because Monterius was the king of eating pussy. I just hated that my body would always defy me like this. As mad as I was with him, my juices were already flooding out of me and coating his beard, so it gave off the impression that I was fine and that everything was okay.

  “Yo’ pussy taste so fuckin’ good, Twink. Why you trying to leave a nigga? Don’t I make you feel good? Ain’t I’m always making your body feel good, ma?” he questioned, taking a second to stop sucking on my clit, so he could question me.

  As Monterius talked to me, his mouth was still on my pussy, and he was looking up at me with those eyes. He looked so fuckin’ innocent, but he wasn’t.

  “Answer me, so I can make you cum,” he voiced then went back to attacking my clit, this time sliding two fingers inside of me.

  “Yessss… You do… you doooo,” I cried, unable to control my moans anymore.

  I felt tears slip from my eyes, and yes, it had a lot to do with the fact that him eating me just brought out the passion in me. However, it was even more so the fact that I was hurting right now because I still didn’t know where he was last night. That was bothering me. I couldn’t take getting cheated on again. My heart couldn’t take the shit anymore. How many bitches would I have to run down on and fight over him? This toxic shit was breaking me down.

  “Shitttttt… I’m cummminggggg!” I screeched as my legs started shaking repeatedly.

  After I came, he kept trying to lick me, but I closed my legs down on him, basically letting him know to stop. He gave my clit one last kiss, and then I untangled my legs from around his head. With a mouth filled with my juices, he came up and started placing light kisses on my stomach. After that, he pulled my shirt up, got a hold of my breast, and soon he started sucking on my nipples.

  The feeling had me going crazy. I was grinding my body under him, just feeling like I was losing control. After paying both of my nipples some attention, his mouth went on my neck, where he purposely started marking me up. Then his lips were on my lips, and we were kissing. We were kissing so deeply with so much passion that I just kept crying. Eventually, I pulled away.

  “Baby, where were you last night?” I questioned, breaking the kiss.

  I could feel him below me, trying to get that big dick out, and I knew what he was trying to do; he was trying to shut me up.

  “Monty… baby… Where… Ohhhhhhhhhhh,” I cried out once I felt him pushing inside of me.

  My face was drenched with tears, so he used his lips to kiss them away. I loved this man so much, and the possibility that he could have fucked around on me last night was fuckin’ with my head. My legs were wrapped around his waist with my arms wrapped around his shoulders as I lay back and allowed him to make deep, circular strokes inside my pussy.

  “I told you where I was, Twink! I wouldn’t lie to you about no shit like that,” he said with his mouth right in front of mine.

  I leaned my head up a little bit so I could kiss his lips, and then I bit his bottom lip, purposely trying to draw blood. When I did that, he flipped me. He threw me down on my stomach, putting me on all fours, and he went back to running that dick inside of me. My head was so far gone that I wasn’t even asking him anymore where he was last night. For ten more minutes, he
gave me luvin’ that only a thug like him could do. Once we both came, I stretched out on the bed, lying on my side, with one of the pillows between my legs. He was saying something to me, but I couldn’t even make out what it was because I had dozed off.

  We didn’t get to the bottom of anything. Like always, whenever I questioned Monterius about fuckin’ around on me, all questions and concerns were eaten and fucked right out of me.

  “Please tell me that you saw the way Deacon Joseph was looking at you tonight when you were finishing up your lesson with the little ones,” my mother giddily said to me.

  I looked down at her and let out a grunt. I really wasn’t in the mood for her theatrics tonight, but judging by the sneaky smile that she had on her face, I could tell that she was good and ready to possibly work my nerves. My mother was such a beautiful woman. She and I were pretty much the same height, but she was just a few pounds heavier than I was. Just like Naomi and me, my mother had curly hair, but she often just wore hers in a bun. My mother’s hair was super long too. If she flat ironed it, which was hardly ever, it was almost down to her butt.

  Taking the time to do extra stuff like that to her hair was something she hardly ever did. My whole life, she either wore her hair in ponytails, buns, or she would rock her curls out. I was simple, but there were times, especially in the winter or spring, when I would undergo a good blow out. My mother was dressed down tonight in a black knee-length skirt and a lovely green and black blouse. Her cardigan and low-heeled pumps completed her look.

  My mother was the epitome of a first lady. It was all in the way she carried herself. I just couldn’t do it, though. As much as I loved God, and as much as I loved a man who loved God, I wouldn’t want to fill this position. Although my mother never told me that a lot came with being a first lady, my older sister, Naomi, had vented to me in the past about how it could be too much at times. She said that she felt like she always had to be perfect, and I never wanted to live my life having to please other people. Then again, I was kind of doing that. For as long as I could remember, I had always lived my life trying to please my parents.

  It was Wednesday night, a little bit after eight, and bible study had just wrapped up. I won’t even lie; I was so tired. Not only was I in the office today, but I also had to go to a couple of hospitals today to visit some newborns. I had been up since 4:30 this morning, and all day, I had been on the move. I had never called out of bible study before, but today would have been the day. Then I thought about how I was going to possibly mess things up, and how my dad would have to find someone to fill my spot at the last minute. I just didn’t want to do a disservice to him because I knew how he liked things to be run and would more than likely be pissed if I canceled on something the day of.

  You ever felt like your body just needed a break? This was me. I often heard women talking amongst their friends, whether I was at the nail salon, hair salon, the grocery store, or wherever. I remember hearing one woman talk about how every night before bed, her husband blessed her with a foot massage. Tonight, a foot massage was exactly what I needed. While I was making my hospital rounds, I’d been in my heels. Back at the office, I was in my heels, and now that we were at the church, I was still in my pumps. The second I made it to my car, I was going to change into my flats.

  Right now, I was in the classroom for bible study, and I was just straightening everything up before I headed out. Mostly everyone was already gone. The only people left were me, my parents, and more than likely, a few deacons.

  “Mom, please! He’s like ten years older than me. I’ll pass,” I voiced.

  “Who’s ten years older than you?” I heard my father’s deep, authoritative voice say as he walked into the classroom.

  I smiled because there could never be a conversation where he would be left out of the loop. When it came to family, he just always knew what was going on. My father was a handsome man. He’d always been handsome. He had the most perfect set of waves that these days featured a few strands of gray, but it looked good on him. My father didn’t let his beard grow out; he liked to keep a clean face, but he did allow his thick mustache to grow out. Just like me, my father had rich chocolate skin. He was tall, maybe about a good 6’1”, and he was medium built.

  A lot of people liked to say that I was his twin, but I really think it depended on which parent I happened to be standing next to at the moment because there were times when I looked like my mother too. My father was definitely a sharp dresser. Since I was a little girl, he had been known for cleaning up so nicely, so it wasn’t anything new to see him right now, dressed in his black, three-piece suit, with a pair of Stacy Adams dress shoes on his feet. His bible was still in his hand as he walked further into the classroom. Also in his hands were the keys, so I knew he was ready to lock up. That got me to smile again because I was ready to go.

  “Deacon Joseph,” I told my father, who let out a grunt and then gave my mother the look. She was always trying to play matchmaker with my life.

  “Melody, I really wish that you would stop in your efforts to find my daughter a husband. What’s for her will be for her! You should know that you don’t have to force God’s hand. When He sees fit for her to have a husband and when He feels that someone is worthy of being a husband to Normani, then He will bless her with one. Think about the fact that when Normani was an infant, Deacon Joseph was ten years old. Besides, my baby girl has way too much going on in her life right now to let a man come in and be a distraction,” my dad said.

  I froze in my actions of putting the last bible on the shelf and released a sigh. I had never defied my father, like ever, but hearing him say stuff like that just annoyed me. I was grown! Twenty-six years old, to be exact, a good career, good education, yet he was still treating me like I was some little girl.

  “Daddy, I don’t personally feel like any woman can be so busy with her life that she can’t make room for a man. You have been singing this song to me since I was a little girl. Will you ever think I’m good enough for a husband?” I questioned.

  My father gave me a look like I’d offended him. He quickly placed the bible on the table. Both of his hands went on my shoulders, and he stared into my eyes.

  “Is that what you think I think of you? Normani, do you think I feel that my daughter isn’t good enough for a husband?” he asked, but I didn’t answer.

  “My baby girl, my heart, let me be one hundred percent honest with you and say that I actually think you are too good. I’m not just saying this because you’re my daughter, but I actually think you’re perfect, and because I feel this way about you, whatever man comes along has to be just as perfect. You’re a successful woman, so you need a successful man, and it’ll be a plus if that man can be even more successful than you. I don’t want someone to come into my baby girl’s life and mooch off her. That’s the only thing that I’m saying, princess,” my father told me, and then he leaned over and kissed me on my cheek.

  I didn’t respond. After maybe five more minutes, I was done straightening up the classroom.

  “I know you’re tired, baby girl. You can go ahead and head home. Your mother and I have one last thing to do in the office, and then we’ll be leaving right behind you,” my daddy told me.

  Before leaving, I hugged both of them and playfully let my mother know that she was going to get in trouble with my father once I left. She laughed while waving me off. I guess she was right because, ultimately, she knew she had my father wrapped around her finger. However, I still felt like he was going to say something to her because she was always trying to find someone for me to hook me up with.

  My mother said that her biggest fear for me was that I would never have children. She felt like my clock was ticking, and at times, I felt that way as well, but I had faith that I wasn’t going to end up lonely. I finally made it inside my car, and the first thing I did was change out of my shoes. I started the car and sucked my teeth once I realized that my gas light was still on. I was rushing to get to the church afte
r leaving the office, and I didn’t want to stop for gas because I would have been even later than I already was.

  “Satan, you are so busy tonight,” I said once I pulled out and got another notification on my car that the pressure in both of my front tires was going down. As low as my gas was, I didn’t stand a chance of making it to the turnpike without breaking down. The closest gas station was right in the city, and it was a Shell. This was already one of the worst parts of town, and at that time of the night, going to that Shell gas station was pretty much like playing Russian Roulette with my life. Not only would I have to stop to gas up, but I also needed to put air in my tires. My house was thirty minutes away, so there was literally no way that I was going to make it home without stopping.

  “God, please watch over me. For ten minutes, I just need for you to shield me,” I voiced, as I pulled my car into the gas station.

  Other cars were gassing up, which made me feel somewhat comfortable. What had me shaking a little bit was the black Porsche truck that was parked right in front of the gas station doors. It was playing loud, rap music, and about ten guys were hanging out by the car.

  I just prayed that none of them saw me, found me attractive, and tried to come over. I parked as far away from that commotion as I possibly could, which really wasn’t much because the gas station really that big, and the other pumps were already occupied. Luckily, I wouldn’t have to walk past the men since I would just pay at the pump with my card. Because I watched the news and knew that people tried to break into cars people pumped gas, I stored my purse under my seat and got out, holding my debit card. I got a few napkins from the dispenser and pulled out the pump.

  “Damn, Black! You fine as fuck!” I heard one of the men yell.

  I knew they were talking to me, but I kept my back turned, not even going to give them any attention because once I did, one of them was liable to come over.

  “Where yo’ nigga at, ma? Ain’t no fuckin’ way your fine ass should be pumping some fuckin’ gas by yourself this late at night! Don’t you know that it’s savages out here!” another one called out.