by Cairo
“Is his dick bigger than mine?”
“Uhh, yes, yes…”
“Oh, that nigga gotta big dick, huh?”
“Yes, yes…God, yes! Oooh, yesssss…”
“But I bet he ain’t hitting that shit like this, huh?”
He thrusts again. Hard. Each thrust is more powerful than the one before it. Each deliberate push takes my breath, and causes my pussy to cry out for mercy.
I grind my teeth together. Grunt and groan and moan and whimper.
“Is that motherfucker’s dick better than mine?”
“N-no, no,” I croak out breathlessly, panting and bracing myself up against the desk. “Yours is so much better, baby. Uhh…oooh…aaaah…”
“Yeah, I knew that corny-ass nigga wasn’t hitting this shit right.” He grunts, running his thick fingers through my short hair and clenching the skin at the back of my neck. “Tell that nigga to get his dick stroke up.”
Slap!
My ass cheek pops. My flesh tingles. The room goes blurry around me as my orgasm builds and builds, spreading like a burning fire. Unpredictable. Sudden. Wild.
“Oh God, Charles, baby,” I moan uncontrollably. “Fuck me.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Give me that nut, baby.” He pounds harder and faster, grabbing my waist. “Come all over this dick.”
I am being swept up in another climax.
“Ooh, oooh, oooh…yes, yes, yes…like that, like that…mmm, mmm, mmm…ohhh shit…oooh, baby, baby, yessss…I’m com—”
• • •
“I fucking knew it!” I hear the click, then a camera light flashes.
My head snaps in the direction of the door. Heart pounding, face drenched in sweat, my eyes practically pop out of their sockets. I blink. No, no, no! My husband is standing in the middle of the doorway with his cell up at us.
I scream. “Aaah! Ohmygod! Craig!”
Blood drains from my face as he snaps another picture of me with my ass out for all to see. Sneering, he looks over at Charles as he quickly pulls himself out of me and yanks his pants up, stuffing his dick inside, condom and all.
Charles raises his hands. “Man, look—”
“Nigga, shut the fuck up! Look my ass! I’ve seen all I need to see. And now I got the proof I need. You can keep her! I’m through!”
My knees buckle. I’ve never known Craig to call anyone the N-word. Not even in jest.
Craig spins on his heel and is quickly out the door as I scramble to grab my skirt bunched up over in the corner. With my pussy dripping and my panties still wrapped around my ankles, I run out of my office, tripping and stumbling. But that doesn’t slow me down. I yank my panties from around my feet, and sprint down the hall after him, breaking the heels on both of my stilettos in the process. “Baby, wait!”
He keeps walking toward the elevators. Each step angry, hurt.
“Craig, please!” I am trembling so hard I piss on myself. “It’s not what you think. I know what you saw, but it didn’t mean anything. I swear. It just happened. And then I couldn’t stop it.”
He spins around. “You couldn’t stop it?!” His eyes are stretched open, and he’s practically foaming out of both sides of his mouth. “You cheating-ass bitch…!”
Eyes wide in stunned horror, I freeze. No, no, no. He didn’t just call me…bitch. In all the years, we’ve been married he’s never called me out of my name. He’s been pissed before, but never enough to be disrespectful toward me.
Fist balled, nose flaring, expression gone grave, Craig tells me he wants to beat the shit of me. He calls Charles every dirty motherfucker under the sun, then stops and shakes his head. “I knew you two were fucking!” Spit flies out of his mouth. He jabs at the air between us. “You ain’t shit, Markisha! Fuck you! And fuck him!”
“I should fuck his bitch-ass up.” He starts back toward my office. “Motherfucker, you like fucking other men’s wives…?”
I run behind him, grabbing him by the arm. “Craig, no!”
He yanks his arm. “Get the fuck off me.” He raises his hand to strike me, and I jump, fear covering my face. Craig closes his eyes, shaking his head. When he opens them, I think I see them watering. “Shit. What the fuck am I doing?” He takes a deep breath. “I should be shaking that motherfucker’s hand, and thanking him. What the fuck am I pissed at him for? He didn’t disregard our wedding vows. You did. You offered him up a piece of horny ass and he took it. You did this. Not him. So I have no beef with that man. My beef is with you, Markisha. YOU! Not him!”
I stalk back toward the bank of elevators.
I feel myself starting to suffocate. I gasp for air. “Craig, I didn’t want to hurt you.” Everything in me trembles as I gulp in air, taking a step back. “I swear to you. I didn’t set out to cheat on you.”
He swings around. His jaws tighten, then he snaps, “Is that before or after I walked in and caught you bent over your goddamn desk with your ass spread open, huh?”
I lower my eyes.
“Exactly what the fuck I thought. Answer me this, Markisha: was there ever a moment where you thought—in between all your muffled groans while spreading your legs and taking back shots—that you might lose your family? Or did you not give a fuck?”
I’ve never seen him so livid. So profoundly hurt.
And rightfully so.
I let my tears fall unchecked. “I-I—”
He sneers at me. “Save them fucking tears, Markisha. From where I’m standing, you gave up on us the second you spread open your legs and let another man fuck you!”
I cringe. The word fuck…it sounds so dirty when he says it. And it is.
“I don’t believe this shit! I let you play me for a damn fool. I can’t believe I was fool enough to let you make me think I was going crazy. That you fucking around on me was all in my goddamn head. You stood there and lied in my motherfucking face without blinking an eye. And I was too fucking blind to see it. Too damn stupid to believe you’d do this to me, even though my gut told me something wasn’t right.” He stares at me, hard.
I swallow. “Craig, we can work through this. I know we can.”
His eyes go dark as he frowns, shaking his head. “We can’t work through shit. Not now. Whatever problems you felt we were having shoulda been worked on before you fucking cheated on me.” His jaw clenches.
“Craig, please. I can explain…”
“You can explain, what? How I caught your whoring-ass getting fucked from the back by some other motherfucker?! That you’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?! That you’ve been playing me for some goddamn fool?!”
He stares at my hand. Sees my panties. The evidence of my dirty deeds is gripped tightly in my hand. Fire flashes in his pupils. “Bitch, you can’t explain SHIT to me! The proof is in your damn hand!”
Dick For Hire
“I know one thing. I hope you don’t plan on lying around this house all day. There are three bins of dirty clothes that need to be washed.”
“Aiight, yo. I got it.”
“Mmph. Well, since you don’t got a job. It’s the least you can do.”
“See. Here you go wit’ that slick shit again.”
“I ain’t talking slick. I’m talking facts.”
“Man, fuck outta here wit’ that dumb shit. I ain’t tryna hear that. You act like I ain’t out here lookin’ for work. You think I like sittin’ up in this muhfucka e’eryday?”
“I think you like playing Xbox, that’s what I think. And I don’t know what you’re looking for while I’m at work. But I know what I’m looking at when I run your pockets. Empty-ass pockets.”
“Man, why e’erything always gotta be about money wit’ you? You act like it’s my fault muhfuckas ain’t hirin’ me.”
“Well, maybe they would hire ya black ass if you stopped flopping around in Timbs ‘n’ hoodies, and got that haircut.”
“Man, fuck outta here. I ain’t cuttin’ my dreads.”
“Well, you ain’t gonna be laying up around here, either
. I don’t give a damn how good the dick is. Or how fine you think you are. I’m not gonna keep sucking and fucking a nigga who ain’t holding shit down. Sorry. But I’m not gonna keep supporting no grown-ass man.”
“Yo, Nivia, word is bond. Watch ya fuckin’ mouth, yo. Stop comin’ at me like I’m some lazy, bum-ass nigga, yo. You really comin’ at me crazy right now, like you been holdin’ shit down all along by yourself.”
“Nigga, if you’re sitting ya nasty ass up on my couch in ya drawz playing Xbox and eating cereal all damn day, burning up my electricity, while I’m out busting my ass, then if it acts like a bum-nigga, then it must be a bum-nigga.”
“Oh, word? Is that how you talkin’ now? So all I am to you now is some bum-nigga, huh? I wasn’t hearin’ you talkin’ all that dumb shit when I was out there hustlin’ ‘n’ shit, coppin’ you all them muthafuckin’ Louis bags and red bottoms ‘n’ shit you got stuffed in them fuckin’ closets. You wasn’t poppin’ shit when I dropped twenty-gees to get us this spot or put ya ungrateful ass up in that shiny, big-body whip you got parked out front.”
“Yeah, well, guess what? I wasn’t popping shit because you were bringing money up in here.”
“Yo, what the fuck?! So what you want me to do? Go back to sellin’ drugs? Is that it? I just did four muthafuckin’ years, yo. And I’m still on parole. So what the fuck is you sayin’, huh? I told you I was done wit’ that life. I’m not goin’ back to prison, yo. For you or anyone else. So if that’s the kinda muhfucka you want, then go out ‘n’ get ’im. Because I ain’t tryna be that muhfucka.”
“I didn’t say go out and start selling drugs again, nigga. And I’m not looking for one who does, dumb-ass. I’m looking for you to get a job. And keep one. Or at least act like you’re trying.”
“I am tryin’. Damn! What the fuck you want me to do, yo, huh? Put a gun up to a muhfucka’s head ‘n’ make ’em hire me? These cracker-ass muhfuckas ain’t tryna hire a felon. Period.”
“Nigga, you can get a job if you want to. I told you Wegmans is hiring. Did you go down there and put in the application like I told you to?”
“Yeah. I told you I did. And they still haven’t called me back.”
“Well, until they do, the least you can do is have dinner cooked when I get home from work, and this house clean. I shouldn’t have to work all day, then come home to a bunch of dishes in the sink. And not one goddamn thing cooked. This shit is getting old. And I’m getting sick of it.”
“Yeah, aiight, man. Whatever.”
“Whatever, my ass, Levar!”
“Yo, fuck, man. I ain’t tryna beef wit’ yo. But you stay talkin’ shit. You know that, right?”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten fired from Walmart. But you did. So if you don’t want me talking shit, then you need to get up and find another damn job.”
“Yo, what the fuck is your problem today? Didn’t I just dick you down real good? So why is you poppin’ shit?”
“Nigga, a hard dick ain’t gonna keep these bills paid up in here. I don’t give a fuck if you gotta sell apples and oranges on the side of the road, or sweep up horse shit. Hell, go out and sling dick if that’s gonna keep these bills paid. All I care about is you working, period. It’s bad enough I’m paying all the bills. But I shouldn’t have to keep paying your child support, too.”
“Man, whatever. Relax. I got this.”
“Well, how ’bout you go relax them bills that keep piling up on the damn counter, and get. A. Motherfuckin’. Job.”
ONE
“Yo, you got that bread?” I say the minute I step inside this muhfucka’s crib ‘n’ the door shuts.
“Yes. A hundred, right?”
“Yeah. You wanted me to shit on you, right?”
“Yes.”
This nasty muhfucka.
“Then I’ma need to see that paper, first,” I say, eyeing him. He’s about my height, six two. Brown hair. Brown eyes. His ad said he was thirty-eight, but he looks older. He’s barefoot, wearin’ a navy blue bathrobe.
I peep a wedding band on his finger.
Damn, this muhfucka’s married. I wonder if he lets his wife shit on him. Nah, if so, he wouldn’t be payin’ muhfuckas to take a dump on him.
“Oh, sure. No worries,” he says, turning to walk off. “I have your money. Follow me.”
I follow him through his condo, scoping the place out as we make our way down a hallway. I can’t front. The muhfucka’s crib is right. He has all types of high-end shit up in here, and expensive-looking artwork and sculptures.
Yeah, this freak-ass muhfucka’s caked up.
Yo, hold up. Before you start judgin’ me, know this, I ain’t gay, bi, or some down-low muhfucka. I’m just in a tight spot at the moment. So I’m doin’ what I gotta do to keep a few dollars in my pocket. And keep my girl off my back. So this shit I’m doin’ is strictly business, point-blank, period.
And I don’t consider nothin’ I’m doin’ as cheatin’.
It’s me gettin’ this paper, that’s it.
Hell, I woulda never been browsin’ the sex ads late last night if I wasn’t feelin’ pressed for money ‘n’ curiosity hadn’t gotten the best of me. I heard there was a buncha horny muhfuckas on the Internet willing to be generous for all types of sex. So when I peeped this muhfucka’s ad lookin’ for someone to shit on him, it sounded—nasty as it is, like a quick way to make some fast cash.
So here I am.
About to drop my drawz ‘n’ shit on this freaky muhfucka.
Hell. I wouldn’t even be at this muhfucka’s crib about to take a shit on him if Nivia wasn’t always poppin’ shit about money. I’m not sayin’ it’s her fault that I’m here. I’m here by my own choice. All I’m sayin’ is, that shit’s annoyin’ as hell. Don’t no muhfucka wanna keep hearin’ that shit from his girl. I already feel low as fuck as it is that I can’t do for my family like I want, the way I used to. That shit fucks with me e’eryday. So I don’t need my girl beatin’ me in the head about it. That shit be makin’ me wanna smack her fuckin’ teeth out.
Don’t get it fucked up. I love my girl. She’s my heart. But, on some real shit, she’s spoiled as fuck. And I know I made her that way. Still, yo, she stay naggin’ the fuck outta me about this work shit. Like I don’t know I need to find a fuckin’ job. What the fuck she think I be doin’ all day?
Don’t answer that shit. You already know. She thinks I’m layin’ up in the crib all day scratchin’ my balls ‘n’ shit; doin’ nothin’. Yeah, aiight. That’s a buncha bullshit, yo.
Yeah, aiight. Maybe she’s right. I could try’n keep the crib a lil’ cleaner. And, aiight, yeah…I can at least have dinner cooked for her. But damn. I’m like, fall back. Shit’s stressful enough. She acts like I don’t know the light ‘n’ cable bills gotta get paid ‘n’ our two kids gotta eat.
Shit. I wouldn’t be in this fucked-up situation—unemployed and all fucked up—now, if that stupid, flat-assed bitch with the big-ass titties hadn’t come up in my line with a cartload of shit, poppin’ shit ’cause I wasn’t movin’ the line fast enough for her ghetto ass. She lucky I had already smoked a blunt before I got up in that muhfucka or I woulda probably knocked her dumb, snaggletooth ass out.
But I checked her ass. And the bitch tried to turn up. Then came back with some cornball-ass nigga, like that was supposed to mean something.
So when he came at me, like he was tryna put that fist work in, I took off my apron ‘n’ knuckled up.
Yeah, we got to fightin’ up in that muhfucka. But I didn’t start the shit. I cracked the nigga’s jaw ‘n’ finished it, then went back to checkin’ out my customers.
Still, I got fired.
And, since I wasn’t workin’ there long enough to collect unemployment, I was assed out. Luckily I had a few dollars saved. But that shit only lasted for a minute. And the bills still keep coming in.
I’ve been out here looking for work like crazy for the last five months. But muhfuckas ain’t hiring. Or maybe they just
ain’t hiring me.
• • •
“Okay, here you go,” dude says, bringing me outta my thoughts. He hands me a crisp Benjamin.
“Aiight, cool,” I say, stuffing the bill in my pocket. I glance at my watch. It’s a little after ten in the morning. And I gotta be at my next destination two towns over between twelve, twelve-thirty. “So where we doin’ this?”
“Right here. On my bed.”
He points to a king-size, four-poster bed. Probably the same one he lays up in wit’ his wife. But that shit ain’t my worry. So let me take this dump ‘n’ get the fuck on.
In the center of the bed is a large white pad ‘n’ some white towels.
Dude takes off his robe, then crawls up on the bed, propping up on his forearms. He’s wearing a skimpy pair of white satiny bikini briefs.
I pull off my hoodie. Then turn my back to him ‘n’ kick off my boots, before stepping outta my sweats ‘n’ drawz.
He groans. “Oh, God, you have a beautiful ass. I would love to have my face shove up in it.”
My jaw muscles tighten. “Yo, dude, you gonna need to keep them ass comments to ya’self. I don’t need to hear that shit.”
Yo, focus, nigga. Get this paper ‘n’ get the fuck up outta here.
Dude offers an apology. Tells me no disrespect meant.
“Turn around,” he says. “Let me see you.”
I take a deep breath. Then face him ‘n’ the muhfucka’s eyes bug out. I ain’t gonna front. I know my body’s right. Muscled and tatted with a long dick. So it is what it is. That’s what I have’ta keep telling myself while I’m standin’ here butt-ass naked in the middle of this muhfucka’s bedroom.
“I want you to put your boots back on. Then climb up on the bed.”
I stuff my feet back into my Timbs, then swagger over to him, lettin’ the muhfucka get an eyeful of this dick. I’m good wit’ him lookin’ at it as long as he ain’t tryna touch it.
He licks his lips. Goes in about how big my dick is. But I ig the shit. I know it’s big. I climb up on the bed, then squat over him.
“Yo, where you want me to shit on you?”