I mean, really. Why in the hell would any sane, rational woman put up with that shit? Hmmm…maybe she’s not sane. Perhaps that’s the damn problem. Her ass is downright crazy for thinking she doesn’t deserve better! Ugh! I need to go lie down. This shit has given me a damn splitting-ass headache. Later!
CHAPTER TWO
At the moment, I have three steady men (not including Garrett and Maurice) who are on call whenever and however I need ’em. I call ’em my three sex charms because I fuck ’em in threes. Three’s a charm, and I keep my pussy wrapped around their dicks like a tennis bracelet. Not only are diamonds a girl’s best friend, so is a thick, stiff dick. And that’s exactly what all three of ’em have.
First, there’s sex charm #1: Jamil. He’s five-eleven, 195 pounds of lean muscle, packing a solid seven-and-a- half inches of thick beef. I met him while standing in line at Commerce Bank. He’s a Gemini, moody and unpredictable. One minute he’s blowing my phone up, scratching and sniffing around like a dog in heat, hounding me for some more of this pussy. The next minute, he’s as cold and distant as an Alaskan polar bear. Probably because of all the stress he catches from his six baby mommas and the chick he’s currently living with. By the time he shells out child support for his ten kids, he barely has enough money for himself. And he knows not to ask
Next is sex charm #2: Wade, a six-foot-three, 215-pound solid hunk of smooth, milk chocolate with long lashes wrapped around the most entrancing pair of hazel eyes I’ve ever seen on any human being. Hanging between his chiseled thighs is a thick, eight-inch dick with enormous veins running along the shaft and a big mushroom head, and attached to this beautiful chocolate dick is a set of huge, hairy balls. His dick sort of reminds me of a miniature baseball bat, narrow at the base, thick at the shaft. Just looking at him makes my pussy tingle with delight.
Wade is a college graduate and owns his own landscaping business. I’ll admit, if I were ever looking for a steady piece of dick, he’d definitely be the one. Okay, well, maybe
Last, but definitely not least, is sex charm #3: Mitchell. Mitchell is six-one, two-hundred pounds, and the color of midnight with a ten-inch dick that curves to the left. And he’s freakier than a mutha. The last time we were together, he poured chocolate syrup in the crack of my ass, then licked and tongue-fucked my asshole clean. I almost lost my mind. He can get it
And of course, there’s Garrett, who comes through once every two weeks or so. Well, uh, that’s what he used to do. Lately, it’s been every chance he can get. I’m not too sure what that’s about. But he keeps coming—in more ways than one. And I keep on spreading open my legs and fucking him.
Anyway, then there’s Maurice whom I fuck once or twice, sometimes three times a year due to his work, travel, and family obligations. And now there’s Wendell, who is still new on my dick list. But before Jamil, Wade, and Mitchell, there were Tyrone, David, and Solomon. And before them: Reggie, Carlos, and Martin. And before them: Cedric, Eli, and Thomas.
Okay. For those of you who might not have picked up on it, I fuck my men in threes. And I usually rotate ’em in threes. Basically, I change my men about as many times as I change the oil in my car, practically every three thousand miles. Or every three months, whichever comes first. I drain ’em, dump ’em, then move on to something fresh and new. It’s the only way to go. So, basically, I’ve never had an issue getting a man. Now, getting rid of his ass is sometimes another story. One we’ll get to at another time.
Oh, you wanna know why I fuck ’em and rotate ’em every three months? Well, because in my experience, it takes about three months before a mofo starts trying to check for you like he’s your damn man, or before he starts getting too damn comfortable and starts expecting shit from you, or thinking you want something from him, or before he starts trying to move his ass up in here. Sorry, boo-boo, I’m not having that shit under any circumstances. I don’t care how good he digs my back out. A man is only good for three things: Fucking, fucking, and more fucking! Other than a stiff dick, there’s nothing he can offer me. At least I’m honest about that, and I let them all know from jump what the deal is. He doesn’t have to worry about me trying to get him to pay my bills, or keep my hair and nails done. I’m more than capable of doing those things for myself. And I expect him to be able to do the same for himself.
Please. Say what you want. Some dudes don’t seem to understand what the hell “no strings attached” means. Hello. It means, let’s fuck and have a good time without you trying to crowd my space, be all up in my damn face questioning me like I owe you something, or trying to keep tabs on me. Negro, get a grip!
And I’ve also found that within three months, whatever drama a man has in his life will eventually find its way into yours if you’re not on point. That’s why it’s always best to fuck ’em and dump ’em within ninety days. Come to think of it. I’m really starting to believe that there really are some things money can’t buy. And, baaaaaaby, let me tell you. Hassle-free dick is one of them!
Anyway, back to my three current charms. All three of ’em have been in my bed, oops, I mean my life, for almost three months. But, like with everything else in life, eventually all good things must come to an end. Sadly, nothing stays the same. And neither does the dick. Hitting this pussy comes with an expiration date.
Okay, before I forget, I’m gonna let you in on something else. There are a few things I’ve learned along my sexual journey, and they are: 1) A stiff dick has no conscience. It’ll fuck anything moving if it can get away with it; 2) Most men lie about the size of their dicks (which is why I carry a ruler); 3) A big dick doesn’t guarantee a good fuck, and a small dick doesn’t guarantee a bad one; 4) An itsy-bitsy, teeny-weenie, short, short dick can’t hit it doggie-style; 5) A man with good dick isn’t necessarily a good man; 6) You can’t judge the size of a man’s dick by his shoe size, hand size, or by the size of his nose. Those physical features don’t mean shit; and 7) Old dick is no different from young dick. It may look different, but with the lights out, it’s still dick. It’s the man attached to the dick that’s different.
I’ve also learned that most men lie about themselves, and about what it is they really want from you. They’ll say whatever they think you want to hear to get whatever it is they want from you. Because a man calls you all the time doesn’t mean he can be trusted. Because he comes through to fuck you all the time doesn’t mean he’s your man, or that he wants to love you. And it definitely doesn’t mean he wants to get to know you better. It usually means he’s only interested in
And I’ve also discovered that most men think sucking on your titties and slapping you on the ass is foreplay. Or that a few tongue laps around the clit is all it takes to have you begging for the dick. Well, that may work for some women. But a woman like me needs a bit more to get it going. See, for me, great sex begins with great foreplay. And great foreplay begins with seduction. Stimulate the mind, arouse the senses, tantalize and tease the body, or find yourself on the receiving end of a miserably lousy fuck.
However, always keep in mind this tidbit: The thrill of seduction sometimes lies in the chase rather than the conquest. In layman’s terms: Sometimes it’s best not to fuck ’em. Masturbate to your fantasies and keep it moving.
Anyway, I say all this to say that some men get so caught up in solely fucking that they don’t even consider
