Shattering the Myth

by Zane

  He followed me back to the room and chuckled when he saw the number on the door. It was three in the morning. Once inside, he told me straight up he wanted to see me naked. I took my clothes off, since there was no point in turning back.

  After I was butt-naked, I got up on the bed and embarked upon the wildest oral experience I’ve ever had. The man was all about the pussy. He was a beast. First, he sniffed all around it like a predator in the woods seeking out some prey. He told me how much he loved my aroma and was glad I was clean. I asked him were there some women who really had bad personal hygiene habits. He replied with a loud “Hell, yeah!” telling me sometimes he could smell a woman’s pussy when he walked by her on the street because the odor was so strong and funky. I could do nothing but laugh and tell him I was glad I passed the inspection.

  Then came the interesting part. Instead of just spreading my legs open and cleaning my clock, he positioned himself beside me on the bed, lifting my right leg up in the air and putting my thigh up on his back with his head facing toward my left thigh instead of directly at my clit. He lifted my left leg up in the air and pushed it outward so that my legs were spread wide apart and started eating me.

  Boy, did he eat! All I can say is the man was starving like Marvin. I lost count of how many times I came. He was not lying—he loved eating some pussy, unlike the sexually disappointing fuck who had been on the very same bed not long before. After a while, my left leg, which was hanging out there in the air, started getting tired. I put it down on the bed. He immediately pushed it back up and told me to hold it there.

  I wasn’t used to holding my leg up like that. Normally, the man’s shoulders would be holding them both up. Instead, his back was holding up my right one, and it was mad comfortable, but my left leg was having problems. He unzipped his jeans and guided my hand to his dick. I started jacking him off, even though that wasn’t in the contract. It was cool with me. I was kind of lying there with nothing to do with my hands, so what the hell.

  He ate and ate, and I jacked and jacked, and he ate some more until the moment of truth arrived and he detonated. Scared me shitless too. He came so hard and made these sounds like a fucking animal. Never in life have I seen anything like that before or since.

  He passed out right there, with his head in between my legs. The right one was still resting comfortably on his back. The left one was cramped up, but holding its own, since it could finally lie flat on the bed.

  The shit was too wild, and I wasn’t about to go to sleep, not knowing a dayum thing about the man, so I flipped through cable channels all night with the remote while he drooled on my pussy and enjoyed his slumber.

  At 7 A.M., I told him I needed to get ready for a meeting. He woke up, turned over onto his back, and started rubbing all over his own chest and up and down the shaft of his dick. I thought to myself, “Oh, shit! Now his freaky ass is gonna masturbate in front of me!”

  He did play with himself until he came. I watched it. It was sort of interesting. Besides, a woman doesn’t get to see such a command performance often. Then he got up and asked me did I want his number. I replied with, “Sure, why not?”

  He wrote it inside a matchbook cover with the hotel name imprinted on it, and I saw him to the door. I couldn’t believe I had done that shit, but bottom line, the first guy wasn’t ’bout it ’bout it, I got what I craved in the end, and it was all good.

  I took yet another shower, threw on a navy business suit, went to my meetings, grabbed a pizza on my way back to the hotel, ignored the messages the clerk gave me from the lousy-ass fuck who was all talk and no action, and went to bed.

  I flew back to California the next day, none the worse for wear, and now I’m sitting here writing my scandalous, yet sexually fulfilling, escapade down in my journal. It may be a long-ass time before I have something this interesting to write in here again. Then again, maybe not! The fact of the matter is, as wild as it was, I truly relished it, so I have learned my lesson. Before that night, I would’ve told everyone I wouldn’t do something freaky like that. The lesson that I’ve learned is to never say never again.

  The Cat Burglar

  The first time I ever laid eyes on you was the night Penny and I robbed you blind. She and I had been knocking over places for the past two years. We met when we were both doing a stint in the county jail. She was in for prostitution and I was in for shoplifting a can of soup because I was sick, starving, and cold. What can I say? Life was hard, and I had to make ends meet any way I could. I grew up dirt-poor with a mother who cared more about where her next bottle of booze was coming from than her kids.

  Penny and I got to talking about how life was treating us both so shitty and contemplating how we could have the last laugh. They say jail doesn’t reform you—it just makes you a better criminal. In both of our cases, that was definitely true. We talked to some experts in the robbery field, since county jail was our little training academy and they instructed us well.

  When we got out two days apart, we put all the plans we made in jail into action and started hitting places right and left. The first couple of times I was convinced we were headed to the big house for a long-ass time. When we didn’t get caught, I began to relax a little. Robbing people was so much easier than I thought it would be. I didn’t feel guilty; I knew they were insured if they had any fucking sense at all.

  Basically, Penny and I took turns between doing the actual heist and being the lookout. When we got to your place, we had hit thirty-four homes altogether; everywhere from one-bedroom apartments to mansions. We only took small items from apartments and saved the big stuff like televisions, stereos, and VCRs for houses, where it was much easier to get them out.

  I entered your apartment from the balcony door, after using a grappling hook and rope to lower myself from the roof of the building down to the fourth floor. Penny had been very good about constructing your weekly schedule. I knew you were working out at the gym that night. Since she did all the legwork, Penny had seen you several times, but I never had.

  That is, until I was going through your dresser drawers, looking for any valuables I could find. There were several photographs attached to your dresser mirror, ones you had slid between the glass and the black lacquer frame. There were seven pictures all together. Three were of a woman that I assumed was your lady, one was of an older woman that I pegged to be your mother, two were of a little boy that I later found out is your son, and the last one was of you.

  You were standing on a beach somewhere, in a pair of shorts and a tank top, with your hand up over your forehead as if you were giving a military salute. It was obvious the true purpose was to cut down on the glare from the sun. I had never been a true believer in love at first sight until I saw your picture.

  There you were, probably on vacation with the woman from the pictures. She was more than likely the one who took the picture of you. The thing that struck me first about you was your smile. You have this great smile. Then I was mesmerized by your eyes. Most eyes look lifeless in pictures, but yours were so vivid, breathtaking even. A car horn from somewhere down below knocked me out of my daze, and I remembered why I was there in the first place.

  I finished looking through your dresser and found quite a load of goodies—some gold jewelry, a couple of watches, and some earrings your lady must have left over there. I was startled when I discovered a diamond engagement ring under a pile of silk boxers in the bottom left drawer. You must have been planning to pop the question soon, and I was halfway disappointed. I took the ring even though, for the very first time ever, I felt kind of bad about stealing.

  I didn’t even bother going through the rest of your apartment. For some reason, I felt depressed, as if some woman had stole my man from me. Crazy, since we had never met. I was robbing your ass and feenin for you at the same time. I left the same way I had come in and used the rope to scale back up to the roof. I exited the building by taking the elevator back down to the lobby and rushing out like I had a date or appointment
. As usual, no one paid much attention to me because people, the male species in particular, never suspect women as burglars. That is part of the beauty of it.

  I got into the getaway car where Penny was waiting for me, in the alley around the corner from your building. While we were pulling off, I spotted you jogging down the street on your way home from the gym. Penny pointed you out to me. There was no need, because I knew who you were right away. I also knew I had to have you.

  That night in my bed, I tossed and turned, thinking about you. I dreamed of you and me on the beach in the picture, making love in the sand. I dreamed of you smiling at me with your beautiful mouth and looking deep into my soul through your captivating eyes. I began to rub my fingers over my clit with one hand and caress my nipples with the other. I did it until I came all over my bedsheets, sweating from the sex I had undertaken all alone.

  A whole month went by. Penny and I had long spent the cash we got for pawning your valuables. I was still dreaming about you, wondering what you were doing at every moment of every day, wondering how often you fulfilled the sexual desires of the woman in the pictures, wondering if you had gotten another ring and proposed to her.

  I couldn’t take it anymore! I wanted to feel you inside me. I began to think about the best way to go about meeting you and stealing you away from the other woman. She was the other woman, you know? You and I were destined to be together. You belonged to me. She was just borrowing you for a little while.

  When you were jogging home from the gym two nights later, you were wearing headphones and never heard or saw me coming until I ran smack into you and fell down on the concrete sidewalk three blocks from your building.

  I grabbed my ankle, as if in severe pain. You immediately took the headphones off, knelt down, and asked if I was okay. What can I say? Desperate times call for desperate measures, and robberies are not the only things I know how to plan out.

  I pretended my ankle had been sprained in the fall, and you helped me up. I faked a limp and put my arm around your shoulder for leverage. First contact, and it was awesome. You looked ten times finer up close and smelled delicious, even after working out at the gym and running. Something about a sweaty-ass man lights my fire.

  I had spent much time getting my running look together. I wanted to look athletic yet sexy at the same time. I had selected some black spandex biker shorts so you could peep my ass, a cutoff T-shirt so my belly button ring was showing, and a lightweight jacket. I left it unzipped so you could get the full view without me being too obvious.

  You helped me over to a bus stop bench and sat down with me, apologizing over and over again about the mishap. I told you it was cool and probably my fault anyway. Then we started chatting like old war buddies, and it was fantastic. We exchanged names. You told me your name was Prescott. I told you mine was Netanya.

  After we became comfortable with one another, you asked me if I wanted to go back to your place so I could put an ice pack on my ankle. I quickly replied yes, hoping not to seem too eager. I held onto your shoulder as you escorted me back to your apartment. I was hoping like hell that no one would recognize me from the night I robbed you. Luckily, they didn’t. The doorman greeted you by your last name, and we went upstairs.

  When we got to your floor and got off the elevator, I almost gave myself away by walking toward your apartment before you even told me whether it was to the left or right. I caught my mistake just in time.

  After propping my ankle with the imaginary injury up on a pillow, you left me on the couch, went to get a couple of bottles of Snapple fruit juice from the kitchen, and then turned on the television. Chris Tucker was on cable, so we decided to watch, and his ass was hilarious.

  I was really watching you and not the tube. You looked so fine, I wanted to drink your bathwater. Now that I was in your place, I had to figure out how to get in your bed. I had to tread cautiously, since I knew you already had a woman, but like I said before, she was just borrowing you from me.

  After the comedy hour went off, an R-rated movie came on. When they flashed the warnings across the screen saying it contained nudity and extreme sexual content, I was happy because I was counting on it helping to get you in the mood. I was praying you didn’t reach for the remote to change the channel, and you didn’t.

  My ankle wasn’t hurting at all. I was big-time frontin’. The only things aching on me were my breasts and the tender, wet area between my legs. The movie turned out to be a pretty good one—a little bit too good, because you became so enthralled in it that our conversation almost ceased altogether. I just lay there, peeping at you out the corner of my eyes from my position on the couch. You were sitting over on your love seat, all into the flick.

  Prescott, I swear, part of me wanted to get up, leave, and let you go on with your life with the other woman. After all, I was living a life of crime, destined to end up in the big house or get taken out in a blaze of glory. If nothing else, at least the other woman could have offered you a stable and secure future.

  I couldn’t do it, though. I couldn’t give you up without a fight, so I tried to get you in bed instead. I told you all about my life. Well, some of it. Everything I said was true too. I just happened to leave out the illegal activities. I told you about my abusive childhood, my alcoholic mother, how my first sexual experience had been against my will, how no man had ever truly loved me, how I felt I would never know what it feels like to be cherished and adored.

  You forgot all about the skin flick and listened intently. I started crying, and it wasn’t fake crying either. I had never come clean with anyone like that before, with the exception of Penny, and it felt good to release all the pain. It was as if I turned the couch in your apartment in to a chaise longue in a therapist’s office, because I laid out my heart to you. It wasn’t even all about the sex anymore. I began to feel a closeness to you, a sense of warmth overcame me, and it was one of the greatest moments of my life.

  You came over to the couch, put your arms around me, and I cried on your shoulder. You held me so tenderly, like a mother holding a newborn on her shoulder in the rocking chair of the hospital nursery. It was then that I knew I had fallen for you bad. My feelings were totally indestructible and irreversible.

  To this day, I can’t recall everything that happened next. Somehow we ended up lying on your bed together, with my head resting on your chest, and I could hear your heart beating. It was such an intensified moment. Your heartbeat was so profound, it made me feel like I was part of you, inside you like a fetus inside a womb. In a sense, all the love and affection I felt I missed out on from my mother seemed to flow out of you.

  You kissed me on my forehead first, then my eyelids, the tip of my nose, and finally my mouth. I partook of your thick, wet tongue gratefully, and we delved into a kiss that knew no boundaries. I relaxed my throat so you could push your tongue even farther into my mouth. You were so passionate, so loving.

  You undressed me with gentle, strong hands and made love to me for the rest of the night. In fact, we didn’t leave your apartment for three whole days. You called in sick, and I pretended to call in sick when I really called Penny instead. You wouldn’t answer the phone at all, letting the voice-mail service answer for you. You wouldn’t answer the door, and we barely ate a thing besides each other.

  You washed my hair in the shower, gave me candlelight bubble baths and then licked me dry, delighted me with massages, and tempted my taste buds with your delicious body. We made love all over your place, everywhere from the kitchen counter to the balcony, but my favorite was when you banged me slowly up against the wall from behind.

  You started off by lifting me up against the wall and sucking on my breasts. You let me down briefly and lifted me up against the wall, upside down this time, and started eating my pussy out. I followed suit and started sucking your dick, even with all the blood rushing to my head. Good thing I’m flexible.

  After we did that for a good while, I told you I was feeling light-headed, and you stopped
so I could stand upright again. I loved the whole thing and wished I could have held the position longer.

  You told me to face the wall and put my hands up. You rubbed the head of your dick up against my ass and then pulled my ass out toward you so it could rub against my clit.

  I felt your dick enter me, and I came so hard, the first of many orgasms up against your living room wall. Your dick took on a rhythm of its own as it started going in and out of me, slowly at first, the intensity growing with each stroke. We both came over and over again, and I prayed the episode would never end.

  After the three days were up, you knew it was time to go back to work before you lost your job altogether, so I followed suit, lying and saying I had to get back to work too. You never mentioned the other woman. Mysteriously, after my first night there, her pictures disappeared from your dresser mirror. You probably shoved them under some clothes in a drawer when I wasn’t in the room.

  You went back to work, but we started seeing each other all the time, spending as many nights and weekends together as we could manage. I lied to you and told you I couldn’t receive calls at work. I asked you to page me all the time instead.

  Eventually, I got sick of all the lies, told Penny my love for you was stronger than my love of money, and quit the business. I found a job as an administrative assistant and worked the old nine-to-five.

  Two months later, all of the jewelry stolen from your apartment mysteriously reappeared in a brown envelope delivered by the mailman. It was a miracle, or so you thought. Truth be known, I worked my ass off to get it all back. It wasn’t easy either, since the time limit on the pawn ticket had expired. I had to pay extra to get the stuff back. Fortunately, all of the items were still there, except for one—the ring.

  One of the guys who worked at the shop owed me big-time. I called in a favor and got the address of the person who purchased it. I had to cross the blue line of the law one more time and steal it back. I figured it was a better idea than knocking on her door and asking to buy it.