Getting a better look, I realize the gentleman watching us isn’t alone. He has a female companion on her knees, also deep-throating him and taking him to the same place Darnell and I have just returned from. That turns us on even more, and before I know it, I am being picked back up and tossed into Darnell’s truck.
“Where are you taking me,” I pry.
“You will find out soon enough,” he shoots back, fastening his seatbelt.
Thirty minutes later, we pull up to a two-story hi-ranch home. Being that it is now pitch dark out, I am unable to get a good look at the house or the neighborhood; in addition, the fact that I don’t have my glasses or my contacts on, I can’t see a thing. That’s what I get for trying to be cute and grown. I assume this is his home because he uses the remote above his visor to open the garage door before pulling in. As we exit the vehicle, Darnell makes sure to grab all of the bags before he proceeds to walk to the other side and open the car door for me. Darnell can’t get the house door open fast enough between fumbling with the keys and trying to feel me up at the same time.
“You need a little help there, buddy,” I clown.
“I got this; you’re the one who’s going to need help,” he threatens as the door swings open.
As soon as his hands are free, he makes sure they find their rightful place back under my skirt in search for my well-manicured garden of love.
“Can you please give me a tour before you make another mess?” I taunt, admiring his stylishly-decorated home.
“The grand tour will come much later, little lady; right now, I need another show. I want to see just how hard you can get me before this bulldozer tears your walls back down.”
“Your wish is my command.”
“In between modeling everything in the bag—from the lotions to the sprays—I want them juicy lips on this dick, and make sure you leave them heels on. Don’t hold back either, because I’m going to tear that wet ass up.”
These words only made my camel toe do a back flip.
Chapter Three ~ Darnell’s First Date
She stole a piece of my heart
but I couldn’t ask for a better place I’d rather be imprisoned.
— Craig D. Slovak
Well, the day is finally here for me to meet ol’ girl. I can’t believe I’ve been dealing with her for six months straight and have yet to physically lay these hazel eyes or these ass-palming hands on her. ‘Yeah, I’m slipping,’ I think. I just hope and pray her ass looks like them damn pictures. I would have no problem leaving her right up in that store, and that’s my word. I’m shocked she wants to meet up at Victoria’s Secret; she’s probably a real live freak with her nasty ass. I have to laugh at that one. Honestly, her wanting to meet me at Victoria’s Secret of all places has me rock hard just from the thought of it alone.
‘This is too good to be true.’
“Lord, I need a favor. Please let Latavia be all she displayed in those damn pictures—well, not the first one she sent. You know the picture she sent the first time I requested one? The one of Lil Jon? She got me good with that and grabbed a brother’s attention at the same time. That was real different, with her crazy ass.”
‘Yo, why am I smiling? This shit is bugged out. My bad!’
“God, please forgive me for cursing; she’s got a brother a little nervous. Amen!”
I know you’re probably wondering why a distinguished gentleman like myself would have to resort to online dating when I have to wear a full-body condom to stay protected from all the trim being thrown at me on the regular. I’m not saying I’m one of those GQ dudes, but I cleanup nicely, if you ask me. I stand before you—six-three, dark skinned, the complexion of dark chocolate milk, a muscular, average build with hazel eyes. I keep my head shaved bald, face is always freshly shaven, and my goatee stays on point. You can call me King Ding-a-ling and I’ll leave it at that. Yes, I’m blessed; my dick game is on point and I’m a blessing to the ladies. If Latavia plays her cards right tonight, she will receive some of the blessing.
Unfortunately for my ex-fiancée Nicole, I’m a police officer and I have a knack for reading people. She started acting brand new, spending countless hours on her phone and the computer, which she, of course, covered up with work. But I know a lie when I hear and see one, so I hacked into her email and saw a bunch of websites she was a member of, and I did the next best thing. As the old saying goes, “If you can’t beat them, join them because we don’t chase them, we replace them.”
Hence, that’s how I ended up on the dating website Plenty of Dates for over a year and had become a regular on it until I met Latavia. She doesn’t need to know all of that though. Real talk: I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about this woman that does me dirty, and the craziest thing is I haven’t even met her in person. Latavia is under this strange belief that this online thing is as new to me as it is to her, and the long hours I put in on the job prevent me from meeting new women as well as being the primary reason I’ve been a bachelor for the past two years. We are going to leave it that way, too.
I make sure to arrive a half hour early, and since we decided to meet in the Macy’s parking lot, I will be able to peep her out ahead of time when she gets out of her car. She said she drives a white, four-door, 2000 Audi A6; with that, I’m going to park in the back by the entrance/exit so I can see the cars coming in and out until I spot her. I know one thing: if she isn’t the five-four, caramel complexioned, big-booty-cutie from the pictures, I’m ghost. I am quickly distracted from my thoughts upon hearing a tap on my window.
“Are you looking for someone?” she quizzes as I roll my window down.
Of course it is Latavia; I should have known. You could locate that smile of hers anywhere—well, I could because it has turned me on since the first time I saw a picture of her. Now face-to-face, it’s putting a brother in a chokehold. Damn, she got me good, but I will get her ass back. Since she wanted to meet at Victoria’s Secret, I’m going to have her try on some shit and give me a show. I hope she’s oiled the fuck up and down because it’s on, and if I like what I see, shit, she can have whatever she wants up in there, along with what’s being contained in these here boxer briefs.
“I believe what I was looking for has found me,” I reply, opening the car door to greet her. ‘Damn, she looks even better in person!’
“Thank you, God; I owe you one,” I silently pray.
From the moment I lay eyes on this woman, my one-eyed monster is on swole, and being in that store, seeing her in the bra and panties she is trying on, has me defeated. I just want to bend her sexy ass over one of these racks and give her some deep, long strokes. I’m going to play it cool though.
“What’s next on the agenda?” I ask.
“I left that part up to you,” she retorts.
Approaching the parking lot, I offer to take her to happy hour. We need to get as far away from this mall and Victoria’s Secret as we possibly can. I can’t take anymore. Shit, I’m trying my best to be the perfect gentleman the old lady raised me to be, but thickums has me turning against everything I believe in and has me trying to hide my joint; it’s hard as fuck right now. Latavia is just too damn sexy, from her personality to her beautiful round ass; I can’t believe no one has snatched her ass up by now.
The both of us are feeling nice after a couple of rounds, but I can see ol’ girl is really feeling it because she keeps trying to touch my shit, and he is excitingly responding to it. With that being said and done, however you want to slice it, it’s time to vacate the premises. I give a nod to the door. I know she wants me as bad as I want her, so as soon as we hit the parking lot, I grab her from behind and slide my hand under her skirt. This freak doesn’t have any panties on. Her nappy dugout is soaking wet, just the way I like it.
This shit makes my stomach growl; I have to taste her. I put her on the hood of the car and start off with small kisses to her inner thigh, which is the sniff test; got to make
sure her shit is right. Latavia passes my test and I begin feasting on my newfound treasure; her flavor is as good as she looks. I start off by gently pinching her pussy lips together with my thumb and my index finger as I French kiss her lips as if it is her mouth, allowing my tongue to trace the words, This is my pussy now, across her clit.
Opening her legs wider, I allow my lips, chin, and nose to slowly circle all over her goodie basket for that extra effect; in other words, I bury my face in that shit. I stick my tongue in and out of her wetness, and without notice, I quicken the pace, allowing my tongue to go round and round, in and out, side to side, until her back begins to arch. Now that she’s right where I want her, I pause for a few seconds, placing my wet, sweltering tongue on her clit gently, leaving it there, allowing the muscles in my tongue to twitch now and then. Penetrating her with my index and middle finger while my tongue does its job causes Latavia to climax all over my face. Yes, I’m good at what I do! Just call me Mr. Pussy because I handle that shit.
Chapter Four ~ Nariah’s Secret
Just because you make mistakes doesn’t mean you are one.
— Author Unknown
I am so happy for my girl Tae. You know her as Latavia, but most of us call her Tae or Tavia for short. She is fortunately blessed to be able to meet and marry the man of her dreams. I can honestly say, that of all the years I’ve known her, she has never been this happy and bubbly. Actually, she used to be Bitter Betty, another nickname I had given her; but all jokes aside, I know it was the result of the horribly terrifying things she witnessed and experienced from such a young and tender age. Tae has endured more than any one person should have to in a lifetime, but as we can see, the good outweighs the bad. God gave her someone to love her unconditionally, while teaching her how to trust and love, and all he had to do was love her.
‘Isn’t that some shit?’
Her happiness is evident; my girl looked absolutely beautiful on her wedding day. The entire wedding ceremony was tastefully and elegantly decorated. For starters, her dress was a gorgeous silk, classically-styled, snow-white Vera Wang gown with a touch of Swarovski crystals strategically placed throughout, all the way down to and through the detachable, three-foot train. She also had a matching tiara headpiece that was crafted perfectly to accentuate the details of the dress.
The ceremony was held at our childhood church, Greater Bethel, and the reception was about fifteen minutes away, in the ballroom of the Marriot Marquis Hotel located in upper Manhattan. The food was fantastic; the best all-you-can-eat buffet selection of hors d’oeuvres, along with top-of-the line wines and cognac, which spelled out Latavia and Darnell. All of the tables were decorated in the same beautiful silk white material as Tae’s dress with a splash of the same Swarovski crystals. I tell you, from the table settings to the chairs, everything was decorated beautifully, and I would like to personally thank the person responsible for making my girl’s day a day to remember.
Wait a minute! That person would be me, so please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Na-to-the-Riah. I know, I’m cracking myself up, but seriously, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I would do anything for my girl to make her happy, and I mean it.
After college and graduating with our master’s degrees in Business Management, Tae and I decided we wanted to be our own bosses, and with much prayer, dedication, and consistency, we opened up Elite Glamour Events. Our motto is, ‘To take your dreams, along with our creativity, and make your event one of a kind.’ We didn’t realize how much work was involved in building a business from the ground up—trying to find the perfect location, creating mission and vision statements, purchasing the right furniture, as well as building a core team of people unlike ourselves. I tell you it was exhausting, but worth every minute of it. I could go on and on about how it was a lot of hard work, but it paid off in the long haul.
On the flip side, all of that work-and-no-play wasn’t a good look for me; I stayed cranky and irritable all of the time. Tae would make fun of me and say all I needed was a good stiff one to take the stress away, and she wasn’t talking about a drink either.
For the first year, Tae and I worked around the clock building Elite Glamour Events to perfection, and that took away from our social lives. That was very hard for me because a dick-loving bitch like myself can’t go too long without being bent over. We decided to look into online dating, figuring we could work, meet new men, and socialize at the same time, and that’s how we came across Plenty of Dates. It was more fun for me, to say the least, than I thought it would be. Tae, on the other hand, started off using the site for entertainment purposes only, or to occupy her mind when Elite took a toll on us. Not me; I wanted to be fucked in the worse way, so my intentions were to find me some dick and find it fast, and I did just that in no time.
My first date from the site was with this guy who called himself Black Hammer. I assumed that was just his profile name because I know good and goddamn well his momma did not name him no mess like that. In any event, he looked okay in his pictures. I usually fall for the light-brights. I’m not too much into the chocolate brothers, but they say the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice, and personally, I love a challenge. With that being said, I had to see just how true the saying is. After texting and getting to know Black for two weeks, we decided to hook up and agreed to have dinner at Amy Ruth’s in upper Manhattan. I didn’t want him or anyone I met on the site to know I lived on Long Island, which is the reason why my profile states I am from Newark, New Jersey.
This, of course, wouldn’t be a match made in heaven. Although I enjoyed his conversation, all I really wanted was to see if he really had the “hammer” he’d so arrogantly bragged about and make sure he knew how to use it, so he could bang my twat out of commission. After getting the preliminaries out the way, we decided to meet, and I took the train into the city. I wanted to be able to drink a little on my ride in to kill two birds with one stone and get my drink on, so I would be good and tipsy by the time I got to the restaurant to meet Blacky Chan. He was just too dark for me, but right then, I was on a twat-curing mission, so his looks were irrelevant. The only thing I was concerned about was if his hammer could bang.
During dinner, we talked and laughed, and if his looks had matched his personality, we might have been good to go. Don’t get me wrong—he wasn’t a bad-looking guy at all. Some might say he was a bootleg version of Idris Elba, but neither one of them is my type. From Black’s looks to his personality, to be honest, he really just wasn’t the kind of guy I’m into. He’s what you would call a good man, and I’m into the roughnecks. Yes, I need a roughneck in my life. There’s just something about them that makes my poontang wet on sight.
Well, at this point of the date—I guess you could blame it on the alcohol—homeboy was starting to become more attractive by the minute, and all I wanted to do was lick him up and down, but bending me over would do just fine.
“I need to use the use the little girls’ room to freshen up,” I relayed, excusing myself from the table.
As soon as I got into the restroom, I made certain it was empty. Upon seeing it was, I texted Black, asking him to come by the ladies’ room because I had an emergency.
“I’m glad you didn’t mind coming to help a sister out,” I voiced, opening the door as he reached to knock.
To his surprise, I pulled him into the bathroom and led him straight to the stall that awaited our arrival. Unzipping his pants, I was able to get a good look at that thing he called the hammer, and I was immensely impressed. Wasting zero time, I handed him a condom.
“Please take that big black dick you call the hammer and beat the shit out of this pussy as if it was your last piece of ass before doing a bid upstate, and of course, with no strings attached,” I instructed.
Black looked at me as if I had lost my damn mind, but at the same time, he pushed me facedown to the point where my face was pretty much hovering over the toilet seat. He entered me wi
th enough force to make a grown woman cry, and I enjoyed every bit of it. It was just what the doctor ordered.
Who the hell knew that six months later he would still be on that dumb-ass dating website, smooth-talking my girl Latavia into going out with him, and they would end up falling in love and getting married? How could I have known that the damn condom would break, and I would end up pregnant by a man I had no intentions of ever seeing again. Just my fucking luck!
Chapter Five ~ Latavia’s Sleeping Sickness
You learned to run from what you feel, and that’s why you have nightmares.
To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control.
— Megan Chance, The Spiritualist
Darnell is leaving today to go on his annual made-man getaway with his boys from the force, and I am sick to my stomach about it. This annual vacation is when all the fellas go away together, without their significant others, for an entire week-and-a-half. They start off going to New Orleans for three days; from there they take a seven-day cruise. Translation: I will be alone for a ten days. I will need the good Lord to give me another dose of strength to get through this. I do relish the opportunity for my husband to get away, because he deserves it, and it affords me a chance to miss him even more, but at the same time, I detest it. Darnell takes my mind off thinking about my past and helps stop the nightmares, so right now I am dreading the idea of being home alone in this house or our bed.
Since tonight is officially the first night I will be alone, I put a call into Nariah, asking her to come over to have a girls’ weekend. She agrees to the divas’ slumber party, but she will have to come over later on tonight or first thing in the morning. She has a hot date with some new guy she says she met at one of our events. It looks like, at the moment, it will be me, a DVD, wine and some popcorn.
Torn: I Dont Need You, But I Want You Page 2