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Daddy Issues

Page 4

by Viv Love


  My two side pieces are another story. They actually work together and have been friends for many years. I met Cheyenne on a dating site, and we are scheduled to see each other on Friday. I met Marissa on a renovation job, but I had no idea that they knew each other until after Cheyenne and I talked more online. By the time I realized that they knew each other, my feelings had already developed for Cheyenne. She talks about Marissa nonstop. She even suggested that we meet each other this weekend. Luckily, Marissa won’t be in town. I’m hoping that I can get them both in the bed at the same time since they’re so close. That’ll eventually come. As long as I can keep up with both of their schedules, I should be able to pull this off. I just need to keep my wife under control, because she has been acting strange lately.

  Tosha has been trying new things in the bedroom, and I even found a leather whip in her vanity drawer. Right next to it was a business card from a counselor in Shreveport. It didn’t say what type of counselor the lady is, and I don’t understand why she can’t see a counselor in Chicago. I made a mental note of the name and began to do my own research. It turns out that the counselor is some psycho broad that teaches women how to be powerful through sex and some weird ass dominatrix type shit. That could explain why Tosha thought she was going to stick her fingers in my ass the other night. She had me tied to the bed, and I was enjoying her sucking my dick from the back until I felt the lube running down the crack of my ass. I let it slide at first, but then she started massaging too close to my asshole. Before I knew it, I accidentally mule kicked her off the bed. I quickly apologized, but she had already gotten embarrassed and ran out the room.

  I haven’t told her that I paid a visit to the counselor, Vivian. I had to disguise myself as a woman because she doesn’t counsel with men at all. A few men in the city have heard all sorts of wild stories about things she’s done to men. The thing is, no one knows for a fact how true the stories are. They even mentioned some kind of Queen package that costs thousands of dollars, but it’s worth every penny. Her secretary is trained on how to screen potential clients. She won’t release any information whatsoever. I stopped by there one day dressed as my normal self, and Maria – the assistant – wouldn’t budge. She kept saying that it was a women’s counseling facility and she could not help me.

  I was able to steal a brochure when she went to get something off the printer for someone who called the phone. From the brochure, I learned of the services that are offered. I also realized that I needed a woman to help me get inside to see Vivian. I needed to figure out just who had my wife violating me like that. I thought about asking one of my side pieces to check it out for me, but then they would know I’m married. I didn’t want to ruin my fun so quickly. That’s when I decided to disguise myself as a woman named Mrs. Black. I pretended like I heard of the services from a close friend that used the company before.

  When Maria tried to reject me because I didn’t have an appointment, I slid her two crisp one-hundred dollar bills to let me in to speak with Vivian. I assured her that I wouldn’t be long. I even nibbled on her ear lobe as I whispered my request to her. I took a chance of being slapped, but I needed to try whatever I could to get inside Vivian’s office. My plan worked, and I was able to see the face behind my wife’s new actions.

  I entered the office like a boss, although I was captivated by Vivian’s beauty. I made a mental note to ask her on a date after I figured out her plans for my wife. I didn’t ask many questions, nor did I say much to her. I just played the role of this mysterious woman and felt her out a bit. Her presence was strong, but I could tell that I was getting to her. She’s used to being in control, yet I took over her office. She gave me an application for her services. It was ten pages long and required a commitment to secrecy before starting services with her. That’s probably why I wasn’t able to find out anything concrete about her services.

  When I left her office, I disposed of my women’s attire in the bathroom trash can. I did that just in case Vivian or anyone else had their eyes on the Mrs. Black that had just left her office. I quickly hopped in my matte black work truck and headed to my construction site just a few blocks over. I planned to keep an eye on Ms. Vivian for a while. I also need to find someone to watch Tosha while I’m away from Chicago. I don’t need her slipping out of the city or getting any more ideas. That taming shit is for the birds and those white folks. Black people don’t get all into that weird ass dominatrix shit. This ain’t no Fifty Colors of Tosha or whatever she’s thinking.

  Chapter 9

  The Chamber

  Because it’s hot outside, most of the men were on their worst behaviors. It’s something about seeing women in short shorts and swimsuits that makes men forget that they are actually married with kids. Between suntan lotion and condensation on beer bottles, men often slip off their wedding rings and lose a bit of their minds. This was the case with the police officer, Malcolm, that was being punished by his wife. After being called to a domestic dispute at a public swimming pool, Malcolm managed to exchange numbers with the female involved in the dispute while her husband was handcuffed in the back of the police cruiser.

  According to the lie that he told his wife when she found the number inside his cop car, Malcolm needed her number just in case he needed her to make a statement. Apparently her statement at the pool wasn’t enough. However, he didn’t seem to need her husband’s phone number for any statements about the heated argument at the pool. Those phone calls and text messages regarding her statement led to lunch dates, secret meetings, and eventually hotel visits.

  Like any other dumb ass cheating man, he stayed out late, suddenly started going to the gym and never lost weight, and he kept his phone on silent and tucked deep in pockets. His wife noticed the changes in his behavior right away, but she continued to be a great wife as usual. The house was always clean, the kids were near perfect, his food was always hot, and the sex was on demand. Malcolm couldn’t have asked for a better wife and life. Yet he still wanted to test the waters. He knew Shuntel was crazy, but he didn’t think she’d follow through on her threats of making him pay for the pain he was causing her.

  As Malcolm laid on his back, strapped to a cold metal table, he regretted ever taking the call at the pool that day. His wife was dressed in a red leather catsuit wearing six-inch stiletto boots and holding a spiked whip. Her breasts were fully exposed through two holes in the catsuit. The music was loud as various cheating songs blared through speakers. Each time the song changed, his wife’s rage increased. While Atlantic Starr sung Secret Lovers, Shuntel attached clamps to his nipples as she gently kissed him from his neck down to the tip of his dick.

  While she teased him by licking up and down his shaft to his balls and his asshole, she flipped the switch on the machine that was connected to the clamps. Within seconds a wave of shock shot through Malcolm’s body, and he let out a loud, bitchy scream. You would have thought a woman saw a damn mouse the way he yelped like a fucking girl. Seeing his squirming and shaking like he was having a seizure sent Shuntel into a hysterical laughing fit. Onlookers thought she was crazy, but she didn’t care. She continued to laugh as she flipped the switch off and on, sending fresh waves of electrical currents through his body.

  “That’s how your motherfucking ass made me feel each time you climbed in our bed and held me tightly! I had currents of love flowing through my heart as you kissed me and told me how blessed you were to have me as a wife! I knew you were cheating, but I hoped that our love for each other would have made you rethink your foolish decision to fuck up our marriage and our home. You were my first everything. I trusted you with my life, and you made a fucking fool of me with that ugly ass young slut fucking bitch!”

  As Shuntel continued to rant about how badly he hurt her, she failed to realize that his moans were starting to fade.

  “You saw everything that my father did to my mother while we were in high school, and you still did the shit to me! You saw how your daddy cheated on your mom and made babi
es in the streets, and you still cheated on me!”

  Each time she added an offense to Malcolm’s list, she amped up the currents a little more.

  “Say something motherfucker! Anything! Why did you do this to US!? You were my EVERYTHING! I helped you stash fucking drugs and money from a drug bust. I jeopardized my life and freedom for you! I put our kids in danger of losing both of us, and you just had to throw it all away for a married ugly ass side piece! Answer me!”

  Malcolm’s body laid limp on the table. He was no longer conscious, and he was barely breathing. Shuntel finally realized something was wrong and quickly turned off the machine.

  “Noooo!! Baby! Wake up, honey! I’m so sorry! Wake up!! Malcolm! Baby, don’t leave me!”

  While Malcolm fought for his life, his wife quickly disconnected the nipple clamps and unstrapped him from the table. She didn’t know what to do. Queen would kill her if she called for an ambulance and exposed the activities of the queendom. She began performing CPR as some of the onlookers stood by whispering. Others ran for help while a few got dressed and made quick exits in case the cops came. As Shuntel continued chest compressions, her mind began to flashback to the scenes of Malcolm wining and dining his mistress. She thought about the countless times that she watched him make passionate love to the woman who had stolen her husband and ruined her life. The sounds of Malcolm moaning and calling her by his mistress’s name replayed in her ear repeatedly.

  As Kelly Price sung As We Lay through the speakers of the chamber, Shuntel slowly stopped giving him CPR. She debated if she should save him or let him die on the table. As she contemplated her next move, she walked over to the window and drew the curtains so that the people watching her would not be able to see inside the chamber any longer. Then, she returned to the table and slapped the shit out of Malcolm. He let out a low moan, but he didn’t wake up. At least she knew he wasn’t dead, so she opened a bottle of ice cold water and poured it all over his face. Since he liked bitches at swimming pools, his ass was going to drown.

  The cold water did the trick, and Malcolm woke up coughing and choking on the water that had gotten into his nose and mouth.

  “Fucking crazy bitch,” he mumbled as he rolled over and continued to cough. “Why are you doing this to me? This freaky shit is getting out of hand. What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought we were supposed to be enjoying some freaky shit and swinging at this resort. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think yo’ ass is trying to kill me!”

  Again, Shuntel laughed hysterically. This time, tears streamed down her cheeks as she grabbed the remote control from a drawer and turned on the projector.

  “We’re going to do some freaky shit alright… What’s wrong with me? Ha, you know exactly what the fuck is wrong with me! Your cheating, gonorrhea, chlamydia, and lies are what’s wrong with me!” she yelled as she played the slide show of pictures she got from Medgar’s private investigation work.

  Shuntel continued to cry as Malcolm sat naked on the table trying to think of an explanation for the images that played while Billy Paul’s voice sung Me and Mrs. Jones. There were images of Malcolm and his bitch sharing a corndog at the park. They were dressed alike and hugged up as if they were truly a couple. The next slide showed them entering the Vintage Steakhouse on Valentine’s Day. Shuntel remembered that night vividly. Malcolm was supposed to be out of town at a work training, so he promised to make the night up to her when he returned. She allowed him to put on the charade of being so sad to leave, but Medgar had already told her that he spotted Malcolm and his mistress together making reservations earlier that day. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks, and her breathing rapidly increased. She felt herself getting angry, but she tried her best to keep calm.

  She had watched the footage a dozen times before, but there was something about seeing that dumb ass look on Malcolm’s face that made her want to unload the nine millimeter gun in her boots on his ass. He sat there looking ugly as hell trying to squeeze out some tears. Shuntel just stared at him in disgust as she walked around him slowly. He didn’t move a muscle because he was afraid of whoever this person was that had taken over his wife. When Shuntel got in front of Malcolm, she bent down as if she was about to suck his exposed dick. She rubbed his thighs with one hand and grabbed his dick with the other hand. As his dick grew into an erection, she sung to it like she was singing on a microphone.

  “Me and Mrs. Mrs. Hoe from the Pooooll… We got a thinnnggg going on.”

  As Shuntel sung into her husband’s dick mic, she purposely let her tongue graze his tip. Each time her tongue touched him, Malcolm’s dick would jump with pleasure. The slick swipes became sensual sucks and slurps. Malcolm wasn’t sure what was going on, but he couldn’t help but enjoy his wife’s warm mouth on him.

  Shuntel sucked and sucked while Malcolm moaned and moaned. As soon as Billy Paul sung the last word to that horrible cheating ass song, Shuntel gripped Malcolm’s nuts as tightly as she could and bit his dick until she drew blood! Malcolm let out a high pitched scream, and Shuntel grabbed her shit and exited the chamber before he was able to knock her ass out for biting him. An image of Shuntel in bed with Malcolm’s best friend was the last picture in the slide show. Revenge is the sweetest joy next to getting dick, she thought to herself as she fled to safety.

  Chapter 10

  Cheyenne

  After a long week, it’s finally time for me to meet my computer love. We decided to meet for dinner and drinks. If the evening goes well, we’ll go check out M.A.D. 1st Friday at Jazzy’s Lounge. I’ve been a couple of time with my clients, and it’s so relaxing and fun. Miguel is into the arts just as I am, so I’m sure he would enjoy himself. I decided to drive myself to the date rather than using the limo service. Still, my cousin plans to send a couple of her guys to randomly check on me. I’ve given her all of the details for the night, and I packed my pepper spray just in case Miguel turns out to be a madman. We agreed to meet at the restaurant at seven o’clock. I wanted to get there early so I could see if I needed to flee the parking lot and never look back or remove my thong and hope to get laid.

  I wore my sexy black dashiki dress and braided my hair into an elegant goddess braid. I wanted to show off my nice body and long legs while still representing my culture. Miguel said that he would be driving a matte black Infiniti QX80. I told him that I would be in my red Mercedes, but I drove Marissa’s purple Maserati instead.

  As I sat in the parking lot waiting for my date, I watched couples come and go. Some of the couples looked great together with their coordinated colors. Others looked like they were forced to be with each other because of the kids. I saw gay couples that seemed to be much happier than the heterosexual couples. I even saw an older lady cursing her husband out because he was walking too slow. The poor man was even on a walker, but that didn’t stop his wife from giving him the blues. I guess that was payback from all the hell he could have put her through in their marriage. The funny thing is that he talked trash right back as he continued to move at a snail’s pace toward the restaurant.

  After enjoying the couples’ sitcoms for almost half an hour, my entertainment was interrupted by Miguel’s vehicle pulling into the parking lot. His windows were tinted so dark that it had to be illegal, so I could not get a sneak preview of the goods. I watched him back in and park about four spaces down from me. He opened the mirror in his sun visor, and the vanity lights allowed me to get a glimpse of him. From what I could see, he had long dreads and appeared to have nice shoulders. This dress might come in handy after all, I thought to myself. I continued to watch him as he checked his nose for little friends and checked his teeth. For a second, I thought I saw a ring sparkle on his left ring finger, but I couldn’t be too sure due to the tint. Surely this man isn’t married. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. They are not all the same. He is not one of the guys from your past. You two have gotten along so well in the chats. He would have told you if he was married. I tried to reassure myself that my computer love is a pe
rfect as I have imagined him to be.

  He finally stepped out of his vehicle and I instantly forgot all of my crazy thoughts. This man was fine! He was dressed in a crisp black button down shirt with slim-fitted slacks and a nice pair of loafers. His shirt hugged his biceps and shoulders perfectly, and his ass complimented his slacks just right. His long dreads were pulled back in a wavy ponytail that extended down the middle of his back. If he smells as good as he looks, he’s in for a long night.

  I waited until he was inside the restaurant before I got out of the car. I needed to make sure all my shit was straight before we finally met face to face. I sprayed a couple of extra squirts of perfume between my perky breasts and between my thighs. I made sure my titties were sitting pretty and my butt had just enough jiggle to grab his attention. I strutted in my six-inch stilettos as if I was walking down the runway to become the next top model. I had to practice my stride in the parking lot so that I could be in full force by the time Miguel saw me. By the time I reached the door of the restaurant, he surprisingly greeted me. I was a little embarrassed because I didn’t know how long he had been watching me.

  “Hello, Cheyenne. How are you?” Miguel asked in the sexiest, deepest voice I had ever heard.

  “Hi… You must be Miguel? How did you know it was me?”

  “Well, my beautiful queen… How many sisters wear dashiki dresses and goddess braids for a night on the town?” he asked as he grabbed my hand and kissed it gently.

  “Ha… I guess you’re right. Thanks for the compliment. You look great yourself.”

  You look good enough to eat! Let’s skip dinner and get straight to the damn dessert! I thought as I tried my best not to get high off the scent of Polo Red coupled with his sexy looks. Damn bih… You hit this jackpot with this one.

 

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