CHAPTER 3
Women had been his weakness since he was a toddler peeping up at them from underneath the bathroom stalls. Most women thought he was cute and smiled back at him when he grinned, glaring between their legs, intrigued with the hairy monster, as he called it then, that shot pee-pee into the toilet. Not much had changed over the years. Only now Darius craved fucking and sucking those hairy monsters every single day.
No finer female in all of California existed than Kimberly Stokes. When Darius phoned Kimberly last night, she’d pleasantly agreed to take a morning flight into Oakland. While his preference was sistahs, Darius also enjoyed fucking Latinas, Puerto Ricans, Jews, Asians, Caucasians, Brazilians, French, Swedish, and German women, and he’d had them all. As long as a woman was a lady, intelligent, well-versed, didn’t speak loudly, and had something to lose—like a celebrity reputation, a high-profile career, a business, or lots of money—her nationality was insignificant. Hustlers with no bank accounts, no job, or unskilled occupations were worthy of a “Hell, no,” not a “Hel-lo.”
The harder Darius tried not to think with his dick, the more he thought about sex. How many women had he slept with? One hundred. Two. More. Was he a sex addict and didn’t realize it? Bump that thought. Darius was a young man, and like most youngsters, his sex drive revved out of control. While attending high school in Los Angeles and during his freshman and sophomore years at Georgetown, Darius had so many females he was convinced he’d break Wilt Chamberlain’s record of having fucked over ten thousand women.
Darius quickly learned that every woman who opened her legs welcomed more than a stiff dick. If Darius could have his company back, he’d occupy the majority of his time producing and financing films in Hollywood instead of lounging around weightlifting and reproducing sperm for his next orgasms.
Thinking of Hollywood, Darius glanced at the caller ID on his nightstand. How many times in one day was his mother going to call him?
Already annoyed, anticipating the repetitive tone of her voice, Darius picked up the handset, closed his eyes, exhaled heavily, then answered, “Yes, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said, sounding chipper. “Are you busy?”
No busier than he was thirty minutes ago. Somberly Darius replied, “Kinda. At least I will be”—knee-deep in some pussy—“in a minute. What’s up?”
“Darius, you can’t keep avoiding your father.” His mom’s voice became predictably stern.
Can and will. “He’s not my father. And I’m not sure who my mother is, either.”
“Honey, you’re making this more complicated than it has to be. If you make Wellington upset, he’s going to cut you off before you find a job.”
News flash! He’s already done that, Mom. “Then forget him! Let him do what the fuck he wants!” Hopefully after this call his mother wouldn’t call back.
“Darius, have you lost your mind?! Don’t speak to me like that!”
“Sorry, Mom. Look, I’ll make it to L.A. next week. Since I’m no longer your priority, Wellington can have whatever the F he wants. And I’ll just stay out of y’all’s way. How’s that?”
“Wellington said you would try to make me feel guilty. I’m not going to let you do that to me this time. I’ll see you next week, sweetheart. I love you.”
Love. Right. Whateva. “You don’t love me. ’Bye, Mom.”
Hanging up the phone, Darius walked to his front door and strolled outside. His five-bedroom house in the Oakland Hills was courtesy of his mother. Standing tall next to one of the six giant white pillars which separated the driveway from the house, Darius folded his arms across his chest then spread his legs, granting space to the erection invading his pecan-colored slacks. He was blessed to have such a nice mom but Wellington had poisoned Darius’s mother’s loving ways, making her cold and callous. Darius hoped she’d used that same heartless attitude toward Wellington one day.
Shifting his thoughts, Darius said, “Just say no, dawg,” trying to convince himself not to fuck his dime piece. “Send her back to Los Angeles. Go inside and work on something constructive like a business plan to regain your corporation.” After all the money Darius had spent to fly Kimberly to Oakland, there was no way he’d send her back to L.A. without getting a return on his investment.
“Aw, yeah. Here she comes.” Smiling, Darius watched the limousine driver cruise into the circular driveway of his mansion. Black. Long. Trimmed in gold with tinted windows so dark he couldn’t see anyone inside. When the chauffeur opened the back door, a bare set of glowing cinnamon legs extended into view. Rhinestone straps buckled at the ankles were connected to clear pointed heels that greeted the black asphalt. Kimberly’s lips curved wide as Darius watched the driver extend his hand, assisting Kimberly out of the car.
Slowly parting the collar of her mink, Kimberly’s bare breasts, plump and firm, were exposed. Licking his lips, Darius lustfully watched her flat stomach, ruby belly stone, and shiny pubic hairs glisten into view. Seductively Kimberly released the black sable which trickled over her smooth shoulders, down her back, over her hips, and wrinkled into a fluffy puddle covering her stilettos.
Fumbling in his trunk, the driver removed Kimberly’s carry-on, then quietly placed the suitcase inside Darius’s doorway. Staring in his rearview mirror, the limo driver shook his head as he cruised then exited the double gates that automatically closed behind him.
“Yeah, now that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout,” Darius said, nodding. His dick sprang forward, pleased that all Kimberly had worn underneath her coat were thin strands of elegant freshwater pearls—black and white—draped around her waist.
“Don’t move. Stay right there,” Darius instructed, approaching Kimberly. Whispering in her ear, Darius said, “Thanks for flying in on such short notice.” Holding Kimberly’s hand high above her flowing hairweave, Darius coaxed her to twirl. Scanning her sculpted body, five feet seven inches, slender waist, bodacious booty, and bulging calves, the morning breeze joined him in saluting Kimberly’s protruding nipples. The platinum barbell piercing Kimberly’s warm tongue flicked inside his ear. His dick jumped. Damn, he enjoyed a woman’s tongue inside his ear. That shit turned him on. “Yes, gurl. Do your thang.”
“Well, with two drivers,” Kimberly moaned, kissing Darius’s strong neck, his hot spot, right below and slightly behind his ear. “Um, you taste so delicious. One in L.A. and that poor guy who sat in the driveway longer than he should’ve, watching my naked body that I spent all day preparing just for you, Daddy. A first-class ticket and an all-expenses-paid trip to Barbados next week.” Kimberly moaned louder. “How could I possibly say no to my two favorite guys.” She dipped, gave Slugger a kiss, and then stood.
Darius frowned. Fool, are you crazy? You can’t afford that shit anymore. Unbeknownst to Kimberly, both her trip to the Caribbean and her line of credit were being cancelled first thing tomorrow morning. But right now, Darius needed to cum inside Kimberly’s hot juicy pussy that resembled a chocolate-dipped strawberry oozing with whipping cream.
Kimberly’s feminine fingers caressed his chest, slid inside the grooves, then aggressively snatched open his shirt. Buttons bounced on the blacktop, then rolled downhill into the grass. “I’ma pussy-whup you today. And don’t hold back,” Kimberly dictated. The wetness of her tongue outlined the definition in Darius’s chest, tracing the indentions underneath each mound. The cold air, saliva, and gnawing pressure of the metal ball made his nipples hard and his dick harder.
Unbuckling his belt, Darius pinched his zipper. Kimberly’s hands grasped his wrists.
“Oh no, Daddy. Don’t steal Mama’s joy. I know how you like it.” Bending over, Kimberly spread the lining of her coat over the lawn. “I’m gonna do you proper.”
Darius’s eyes zoomed in on what his dick couldn’t resist, so he unfastened his pants and gripped Kimberly’s ass, burying his face between her chocolate lips with their sweet strawberry fleshy center. Softly, Darius French-kissed her clit. In one fluid motion, his to
ngue swept her shaft, circled her vagina, and then teased her rectum. Saliva drizzled down to Kimberly’s vagina, saturating her clitoris and dripping onto the coat. With his pants hugging his upper thighs right below his ass, Darius gripped his erection, spanked Kimberly’s pussy with his dick, and gradually entered her, savoring the warmth of every fraction of an inch until his hips pressed flush against her ass.
Tilting his face toward the heavens above, Darius’s body floated into Kimberly’s. “Aw, yes. I miss my pussy gurl. I wish you could feel how good this shit is.”
The cold breeze, Kimberly’s hot pussy, and the openness of the outdoors heightened his sexual emotions. When a bluebird perched on his porch and whistled, Darius sang, “Yeah, dawg. You know how good this feels.”
Slowly Darius repenetrated Kimberly as deep as he could. He paused inside her paradise. His eyes journeyed to the back of his head. Pussy was so good. Tight. Juicy. For a moment Darius was pussy-paralyzed.
Until Kimberly’s hand reached between his thighs, grabbing his balls, and he humped again. This time with more depth. Squeezing gently then a little harder, Kimberly rotated his nuts in her hand then deeply massaged his extended dick, the rod between his dick and his nuts, almost making him explode inside her pulsating pussy. Easing his penis out, Darius removed his pants, admiring the cream coating his shaft. He circled his bulging head around Kimberly’s opening then slipped back inside before their juices evaporated in the chilling wind.
“Yes, Daddy. Fuck me! Fuck your pussy, Daddy.”
Yeah, Kimberly was appreciative to see him. Fancy had lost. Fancy could’ve been jockin’ him. Kimberly’s ass amazingly clapped, making a smacking sound each time she tightened her muscles around his dick.
“Not yet, Slugger. Hold on. Don’t let her take you out like a punk man. Stay strong,” Darius pleaded. “Hold out for a few more minutes, dawg.” Quickly pulling out, Darius removed a condom from his back pocket. “Whew! Damn. That was close.”
As Darius ripped the packet with his teeth, Kimberly faced him, holding his hands, then whispered, “Don’t cover him up. I haven’t tasted him yet.”
Spitting the paper into his palm, Darius said, “Aw, shit.” His heartbeat increased as Kimberly squatted in those sexy shoes then firmly massaged his pre-cum and her saliva into his dick.
“Incredible,” was all Darius could say before Kimberly’s slippery silver ball vibrated across his nuts. Her lips traveled up his shaft, over his head, gradually taking in as much as she could.
If Kimberly knew how good Darius’s dick felt inside her mouth and pussy, she’d stand in line to trade her pussy for a dick. The real reason women were jealous of men wasn’t because men cheated but because women didn’t have dicks. Damn, Kimberly’s mouth felt ridiculously unbelievable! “Oh my God!” Darius yelled into the wind.
Kimberly’s hand was in motion with her head as Darius clamped his hands on the side of her temples, closed his eyes, and then forced Slugger deeper down Kimberly’s throat, until his engorged head bypassed the hardness in the roof of her mouth and nestled into the soft tissue area that felt just like pussy. Kimberly gagged. Darius pushed deeper, saying, “This shit is so outrageously good.” Any nigga that said he was faithful was lying or he was crazy.
Gripping his hips, Kimberly forced Darius back, patted his thighs, and mumbled, “Slow down. You’re choking me.”
“I’m, sorry, baby you know how I get when I’m in the zone,” Darius said, unrolling the condom up his shaft. Turning Kimberly back around, Darius pushed her against one of the frosty white columns. Kimberly parted her cheeks, welcoming Darius’s big, strong, and long dick. Pumping swiftly, Darius started fucking the shit out of her like a dog in heat. Trying to match his pace, Kimberly bounced on his dick as Darius thrust harder and faster until the explosion he’d wanted—“Here it comes!”—to give to Fancy—“It’s yours!”—escaped his nuts.
“Ooohh, ddaaammmn! Shit! Goddamn! Woman, your pussy is unbelievable.” Darius humped, pumping a few more times until the slackers—the last group of sperms—exited his penis. Slapping Kimberly’s cheeks then picking up her coat and his pants, Darius said, “If your pussy could cook, I’d marry it. Believe dat. Let’s go inside.”
Kimberly laughed. “You are so stupid. You act like you haven’t had sex for months,” she said, trailing Darius.
Nodding, Darius replied, “Yup, you could say that. I need my shit tuned up every day.”
Retreating to his bedroom, they showered, and then lay across Darius’s circular bed. He clicked a few buttons on his remote and replayed the videotape from their recent outdoor session on the lawn so Kimberly could see herself in action.
Pointing, Kimberly said, “Hey, that’s pretty neat. How did you videotape us? Can I have the tape?”
Darius recalled the day he’d met Kimberly sitting courtside at a Lakers game with some guy. Kimberly’s date left during halftime, and by the time dude returned, Kimberly had given Darius her cell number. Initially he started not to call but one night he was bored lounging at his home in L.A. with no place to go, so he called Kimberly—like he’d done with Fancy—and invited her over. Kimberly was direct. Said she didn’t fuck for free but was worth everything she got in exchange, and she was right.
“Of course not, you know better than to ask me a crazy question like that. My entire house has cameras so don’t try anything stupid when I leave you here while I’m at my brother’s funeral tomorrow.”
Rolling onto her stomach, eyeing the plasma screen on the wall, Kimberly said, “Well, you taped us without my consent. All I want is a copy of that tape.”
Mounting Kimberly, Darius pressed his head at the opening of her rectum. “I’ll dub you a copy of this tape. If you let me—”
Kimberly kept watching television. “You don’t seem sad about your brother being killed. Don’t you care?”
Rising up on his knees, unstraddling Kimberly, Darius asked, “Where’d that come from? Of course I care. I’m just relieved that it wasn’t my dad. And I’m sorry that it wasn’t my other brother, Kevin. I still have to catch up to his stealing ass and when I do, it’s gon’ be curtains for that jokester because—”
The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. Darius leaned over, peeped at the caller ID. It was Ciara. Jokester. Trickster. One and the same. Darius answered, “What the hell you want?!”
Calmly Ciara asked, “Let me speak to Kimberly.”
Frowning, squinting, Darius stared at Kimberly. “What the fuck you doing telling Ciara to call my damn house for you?!”
Briefly rolling over, looking at Darius, Kimberly turned onto her side, continuously admiring herself kissing Darius’s nipples on the big screen and said, “Darius, you play too much. I didn’t tell Ciara to call me here.”
Slamming his hand against the speaker button, Darius said, “Ciara, whatever you have to say to Kimberly you can say to me.”
“Thanks, Darius. Kimberly, at Wellington Jones’s request, I’m casting you for the lead actress in my new film He’s Just a Friend. We both agree that you’re perfect for the role. Young, talented, and scintillating.”
Kimberly leaped to her feet. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Ciara, are you serious?!” Kimberly shouted the words again, doing a full split in midair. Jumping up and down on Darius’s ten-thousand-dollar spread like she was on a trampoline, Kimberly sang, “I’m gonna be a star,” repeatedly.
“Sit your ass down!” Darius yelled, jerking the black oriental spread from underneath Kimberly’s feet, watching her collapse onto his bed. “Ciara, you can’t do that! Wellington can’t do that! He’s Just a Friend is being produced by my company and you know it!”
Ciara interjected, “Correction, your parents’ company. You’re broke, remember? I’ve negotiated to do the casting for all films for Somebody’s Gotta Be on Top Enterprises. Wellington felt that was the least he could do since you screwed up my companies with your lying ways. But if you need help finding a job, I could use a gardener to clean up the manure you�
�ve left in my backyard. Darius, you’ve convinced me that having a dog is a better companion than having your trifling ass for a husband.”
For the first time in years, a woman had made Darius speechless and he hated Ciara for that shit. Now Kimberly knew more than he’d intended to tell her. Was he that bad? That doggish? “You’re a whore. Remember that. Solomon. Donavon. Allen. And God knows who else you’ve slept with. Fuck you, Ciara!” Darius yelled into the speaker.
“You already have, remember? I’m pregnant. With your son. So don’t try that ‘I’m not the baby’s daddy’ nonsense with me. ’Bye, Darius. Kimberly, congratulations. I’ll see you in my office first thing Monday morning.”
After disappearing for months, when had Ciara’s ass gotten back from her sabbatical? Forget his mother and Wellington, Ciara was the first person Darius was visiting when he got to L.A. “So you’re back working in your of—”
“I didn’t call to speak with you, Darius. And don’t show up at my office.”
Click.
“Kimberly, don’t bother unpacking your shit. You’re in cahoots with Ciara so you’ve gotta get up outta my crib. Right now. Put your clothes on.” Darius dialed the driver who’d left two hours ago. “Man, I need you to come by immediately.”
Kimberly protested, “Darius, you can’t be serious. I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“I’m very serious. Get your shit and get out.”
Kimberly had served her purpose.
CHAPTER 4
If Fancy could’ve separated the orgasms from the individuals, truth from illusion, or pain from pleasure, she wouldn’t have sexed so many men nor would she have slept alone in her bed most of the time. Instead, she’d be lying next to her fine-ass husband every night, whoever he was. And Fancy damn sure ’nuff wouldn’t have been lonely sitting in the midst of thousands of people at the Oakland Paramount Theatre listening to but not hearing the funniest man in America, Chris Rock, tell jokes that had Desmond and seemingly everyone else except her roaring with laughter.
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