He and Trent gave each other a high-five. Then Trent started his mess about how all women, with the exception of me and our mother, are only good for seeding and breeding.
“Say what?” I asked incredulously. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Just as I was about to say something else, Tyrell walked through the kitchen with some chick sporting a bunch of shoulder-length micro-braids and a neck wrapped in a bunch of gold jewelry. She was cute in the face and small in the waist with a set of big double-D titties. And she left no room for the imagination in her little, peach knit sweater and extra tight mini-skirt. Humph, the smartest thing Tyrell has ever done when it comes to a relationship, or women, was to only have one child. ’Cause, baby let me tell you, when it comes to him choosing women, he falls short every time. And on top of that, he seems to have a new one every time I’m there to visit. The last chick he had ended up being a certified psycho, cutting up all his clothes because he didn’t come home. Granted, he should have called her, but damn. Cutting up his belongings was a bit extreme, in my opinion. Humph. And then the dumb bitch ended up getting arrested for chasing him down the street in her bra and panties with a knife because he was trying to leave her crazy ass. It was bad enough she had taken one shoe from all his sets of Timbs and sneakers, and threw them out. Poor Tyrell had nothing but mismatched pairs of shoes to put on his feet. Then she had the nerve to cut off one leg of all of his pants, from his sweats to his jeans. How ridiculous is that? When I heard that shit, I had to shake my damn head. Why are some damn women so fucking desperate?
I swear some of these chicks out here are so fucked up, and so damn afraid of rejection that they’d stoop to doing some of the craziest shit to try to keep someone who no longer wants them because they’ve chased him away with all of their bullshit. Crazy hoes!
Of course Lamont and Trent gawked and drooled at Tyrell’s current flavor of the week like two dogs in heat as she stood there popping her chewing gum. If you ask me, they were sniffing ghetto trash.
Anyway, when I brought my attention back to Trent and asked Trent what exempted me and Mom from his beliefs about women being good only for fucking and having babies, he looked at me like I had a dick hanging out of my mouth or something. And truth be told, I wished I did.
He said, “Because that’s our mom. She’s the one who gave me life. And you, well…you’re not hot in the tail, running around chasing down dick like some cum-hungry, gold-digging chick.” Then he looked over at Tyrell’s chick of the week.
Of course I almost knocked my drink over. If he only knew how much mileage my pussy gets he—along with the rest of my brothers—would be ready to beat me down… It’s Ho Central, but they’ll never hear that from me.
Anywaaaay, there’s nothing like home! Between my mother badgering me about settling down and getting married and my brothers watching me like damn hawks, along with the lack of dick intake, I thought I’d lose my motherfucking mind if I had to stay another day. Besides, I was starting to get real paranoid. My mother kept staring at me and smiling as if she knew my current predicament. They say a mother always knows her child better than anyone else. So, I had to get out of Dodge quick, fast and in a hurry before she started asking a bunch of questions and putting two and two together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
At four a.m. I awake to another one of my crazy ass dreams. I dream that I am in this sex store that looks like an old abandoned warehouse from the outside, but inside it is this gigantic space, practically the size of a department store and there are huge, flat-screen TVs throughout the store playing sex videos portraying all types of kinky sex. I’m not sure exactly what town or state this place is located in. But it is a dark, seedy area. The store is sectioned off by ropes and multi-colored doors.
Anyway, I am walking through the store pushing a cart, dressed in black leather from head to toe, wearing a leather crotch-less bikini underneath a full-length, leather trench with knee-high stiletto boots. My hair is tucked under a leather derby and I am holding a leather flogger in my hand. I am going down different aisles tossing all types of flavored gels and lotions, dog collars and leashes, cock rings, clamps and clips, vibrators, butt plugs and dildos in different colors, shapes and sizes into my basket. I even pick out a few wooden spoons and paddles, some smooth and others with ridges to add to my assortment of goodies.
When I am done with my shopping, I go through this security checkpoint; then I’m allowed to enter any door of my choice. Behind each door there are different types of men waiting to be dominated; men who secretly want to submit to a woman. My pussy is drooling with excitement. I open the first door and there are three men in this room sitting on chrome and leather stools: a handsome, well-built white man wearing a pair of red silk boxers; a beautiful, dark chocolate-coated hunk with shoulder-length locks wearing a pair of black silk boxers; and a fine-ass caramel-coated man with hazel eyes, butt-ass naked with a long, juicy dick.
I slam the door, taking off my trench and tossing it on the floor. They jump up, standing at attention. I strut over to Hazel Eyes and scream, “Who the fuck told you to get naked, you nasty dog? Get on your damn knees!” He does what he is told, and I place a leather-spiked collar around his neck, then attach the leash. I yank it. “Sniff my pussy, you bad dog.” I spread my legs apart, then take both of my hands and press his face into my crotch. He sniffs and sniffs, and sniffs. I cock one leg up on the barstool. “Lick my pussy, you nasty mutt!” He licks it, but he is lapping it real soft and lovingly. I want it rough and fast and wet. I slap his face. “Wet my pussy, damn you!” I slap his face again. “Yelp, like the nasty lying dog you are!” He starts yelping like a wounded puppy. When he finally gets my pussy nice and wet, I pet him. “That’s it, just like that. Good doggie. Mmmm, yes. Wet Momma’s pussy.”
The other two are still standing like toy soldiers, not daring to look over to see what is going on. I see the curiosity and the uncertainty in their faces. I can smell their excitement in the air as I remove my top and let my titties free. “Spit in your hand and jerk that big dick, you fucking dog!” Again, he does what he is told. “Yeah, that’s right, stroke that dick.” I slap his face. “Don’t you dare stop licking my pussy. Rub your nose in it!” He does. “Lick my clit.” He does. This goes on for about fifteen minutes until I am ready to cum. “Make me cum, you dirty dog.” I can tell he is getting into it and is about ready to cum himself. I slap his face again. “Nut on my boot, not on the floor or I’m gonna smear your nose in it. And you better howl when you’re getting ready to cum.”
He strokes his dick, panting and growling. And as soon as he is ready to nut he starts howling. He bursts his nut all over my boot, and then I make him clean it up with his tongue.
Next I walk over to White Hunk. I run my hands over the front of his boxers, then grab his dick in my hand, massaging it over his underwear. I lick his right nipple, then his left. “You’d better not let this dick get hard.” I keep stroking him, and feel it start to thicken and grow. “What the fuck did I tell you, you weak-ass fucker?!? I said you’d better not get hard.” I slap him with my free hand, while still stroking his dick. I continue licking his nipples, alternately sucking and biting and tugging at them with my teeth. His leg shakes.
“Oh, you like that. You wanna show Momma how big your dick can get, huh? You wanna cum for Momma?” He barks, nodding his head. “Good! Then cum you shall.” I tell him to remove his boxers. My Lord, I’m not gonna front, he has a big beautiful dick and big, smooth balls. My mouth starts to water. I walk back over to my bag of goodies and pull out some items. I place a clamp on each of his nipples. He winces. “Don’t you dare, you pathetic weakling!” I slap his face again. Then I hand him some sandpaper and order him to wrap it around his dick and masturbate his dry dick with it. His eyes bulge but he obeys the order and does what he is told, like the good little dog he is, and cums in thick, painful spurts.
I walk out of the room, then enter another door. There’s a tall Hispanic man with a football player’s build sitting on a leather bench. “Get the fuck up, motherfucker,” I snarl, “and strip!” He does what he’s told. When he is finished undressing, standing before me in his naked splendor, I tie his hands in front of him, then walk over to the wall and press a button that raises his hands up over his head and slowly lifts him up off the floor. His very large feet dangle in the air. He grimaces, pain etched on his face as he hangs in the air by his arms, fearfully waiting for them to pop out of their sockets.
His limp dick, fat and juicy like a plump sausage, hangs before me at eye level. I reach out and brush the back of my fingertips along the shaft, then grab it and violently shake it.
“You nasty fuck-face!” I sneer. “You better not let this fat cock get hard, or I’m gonna bite it off. You understand me, you motherfucking scumbag?”
He growls. I yank his balls, then dig my nails into his flesh and squeeze. He yelps. “Shut the fuck up, you weak-ass fucker!” Beads of sweat start to line his forehead. I let go of his nuts, and walk over to a black leather
