by Cairo
“Girl, we’re loving life and doing us,” Porsha answers for the three of us.
“And if someone worthy comes along in the process,” Persia adds. “Then maybe we’ll love him, too.”
“So in the meantime, y’all just keep sharing men?” Felecia asks, although it feels more like a statement than anything else. She twists her body in my direction. “Triple the fun.”
I nod.
“And fun it is,” Persia says, raising her glass to her.
Felecia raises hers as well. “I heard that, girl.”
“That’s right. Three freaks in the sheets are always better than one, okay.”
Felecia laughs. “Seems like you all have been freaking men like that for quite a long time.”
Porsha laughs. “Yeah, it’s been several years off and on; more on than off in the last five, though. And, hey, it works for us.”
“Well, shoot, if y’all like it. I love it. Do you. I don’t give a damn what people do in the comforts of their own sheets; as long as they ain’t doin’ my man.”
“I know that’s right,” Persia says.
Felecia continues, “I don’t know how y’all do it, sharing men and whatnot. I’m too selfish for that shit. I’d end up wanting to cut a bitch and fight his ass if he gave her more dick than he was giving me. I’m the kind of woman who needs to have my man all to myself.” She pauses, taking a sip of her drink. She licks her lips. “Any woman sharing another woman’s man has some real fucked-up self-esteem, in my opinion.” She quickly realizes what she’s said and tries to clean it up. “No disrespect meant to y’all, but that’s how I feel. Not that I’m implying I think any of you have low self-esteem.”
“Oh, and no disrespect taken, Hun,” Porsha says, shifting in her seat. I glance over at her, hoping she doesn’t curse her out before we find out the filth on Pasha. The two of them have been known to get into some very heated conversations, particularly when Felecia has had one drink too many. She’s the type that doesn’t care what comes out of her mouth once she’s liquored up. “Our self-esteems have always been on high, boo.”
“Oh, okay,” Felecia says, giving her one of those if-you-say-so looks. “You don’t have to convince me. Y’all are truly the exceptions to the rule because most of the chicks I know who fuck around with someone else’s man have some deep-rooted issues.”
“Well, we don’t have that problem,” Persia informs her. “My sisters and I have always been very comfortable in our skins. What we do has nothing to do with self-esteem, or some traumatic life experiences. Shit, bagging a man of our own has never been a problem for any of us.”
“Exactly,” Porsha states. “There’s no jealousy between us and no fighting over a man because we agree to fuck him on our terms. Not his and definitely no one else’s.”
Felecia takes it all in, then asks, “So what happens, let’s say, when you meet a guy that one of you wants to fuck but the other two doesn’t; then what?”
“Then nine times out of ten we won’t fuck him,” Persia answers for the three of us. “Well, I know I don’t. Porsha and Paris can speak for themselves.”
“No, you’re right,” Porsha says, pouring another drink. She refills Felecia’s glass, too. “We definitely won’t fuck him. No matter how fine he is.”
My secret romp with Desmond last week down in Atlantic City immediately pops into my head. Fucking him, again, was exactly what I needed. He made love to every inch of my body, slow and tender. Made sure I got exactly what I asked for. As rough around the edges as he appears, he’s a gentle, attentive lover. And, although I still haven’t given him my cell number, I’ll definitely fuck him again, and again, and again. Strong hands, muscular arms, chiseled chest…yes, Lawd, I’ll fuck him down. Whew, he had my pussy singing.
“Umm, what are you sitting over there smiling about?” Porsha asks, eyeing me. All three of them have their eyes glued on me.
“Yes, do share,” Felecia says, twisting her body in my direction.
I shake my head. “I was sitting here thinking about some of our encounters over the years,” I lie, smiling wider.
Persia sits up in her seat, fanning herself. “Girrrrrrl, and we definitely have some stories to tell. Mmmph.”
“Ooooh, I bet y’all do,” she says, laughing. “’Cause y’all some real freaky bitches.”
We all laugh. Persia starts telling Felecia about one of our sexapades. The time we fucked a NFL football player while vacationing on Saint Lucia. We were staying at the Windjammer Landing Villa Beach Resort, where he was staying as well for a wedding he was attending. Six-six, two hundred forty pounds of solid man muscle. When Porsha walked back up into our villa with him in tow—bare-chested, wearing a pair of swim trunks and Louis Vuitton flip-flops, my pussy immediately moistened. And I knew Persia’s did as well, the way she started twisting in her seat. We had been on the island for over a week without any dick or suitable prospects and we had been getting antsy. So when Porsha walked in with him we knew we’d hit the jackpot. We encircled him, then pounced on him like starved lioness, devouring every inch of him. Porsha and Persia sucked his dick while I sucked on his balls. Then we alternated sitting on his face, grinding down on his tongue, anticipating getting fucked with his thick seven-and-a-half inches. But, unbeknownst to us, pussy wasn’t what he had in mind. He wanted ass. That was his fetish. That was his desire. And that’s what we gave him. Deep and fast, we rode down on his cock, keeping his mouth stuffed with titties and pussy until he had us squirting out of our cunts and asses. We fucked him two days in a row, and would’ve fucked him for the rest of our stay there had he not come out of his face asking us to eat each other’s pussies.
Felecia grimaces. “Ugh, no, he didn’t ask y’all to do some perverted shit like that. And that nasty motherfucker couldn’t see that y’all were sisters?”
“Yes the hell he did,” Persia responds. “And his ass was dead serious, too.”
Porsha chimes in. “Girl, he was really trying to take it over the edge with that shit. Then he kept pressing the issue when we told him we didn’t get down like that.”
“He even offered to pay us,” I add, shaking my head.
Felecia’s eyes pop open. “Oh, wow…how much?” She asks this as if the amount would’ve made a difference. I tell her ten grand. “Ten thousand dollars? And all y’all had to do is eat each other out? That’s a lot of money to turn down.”
I blink, then frown. Bitch, you must be sick!
“No thank you, boo,” Porsha says, “There’s not enough money in this world for something like that to go down.”
Felecia eyes her, then cuts her eyes over at me and Persia. “Hmmm…now back to these sexapades. Y’all have never licked and lapped on each other, or wanted to?”
Persia and I shake our heads in unison. “Ugh. Never.”
“I love my sisters,” Porsha adds, getting up from her seat. “But I don’t love them enough to ever have them finger, face, or tongue-fuck me. And I’m sure they feel the same way.” Persia and I concur. She grabs the pitcher. “I’m gonna go refill this.”
“Oooh, wait,” Felecia says, extending her arm and opening and closing her hand like she’s trying to grab for something in the air. “Let me get some of that fruit that’s down on the bottom. That’s where the real treat is.” Porsha takes her glass and scoops out a few pieces of mango, melon, and strawberries, then hands it back to her.
“Anyone else?” Porsha asks Persia and me. We shake our heads. “I’ll be right back, then.” She walks off, leaving the three of us to continue where we’ve left off. Felecia wants to know if we’ve ever been with other women.
“Oh no, baby,” Persia informs her. “I’m all about the dick. The only clit I wanna feel is my own. There’s nothing another woman can do for me except tell me where the next shoe sale is, okay.” She swirls her finger inside her drink, then pulls it out and sucks it. “Fuck what you heard. Dick does the body real good.”
I have nothing to add so I twirl my glass b
etween my fingers, then take a sip. My mind floats back to Desmond. His face, his mesmerizing eyes, his sculpted body, his delicious dick, and the way he spooned in back of me and held me in his arms...
And then…I wonder if he’s somewhere thinking about me.
How could he not be? I fed him my cunt, creamed in his mouth, sucked his sweet, salty nut out of his dick, then we fucked…hot, sweaty, toe-curling fucking until we cried out, clinging onto the waves of pleasure.
Persia
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Well, like I said,” Felecia goes on, still stuck on talking about our romps with men. “I really don’t know how y’all do it. What happens if one of you start catching feelings for one of the guys y’all fucking? Or if he catches feelings for one of you?”
“Hmmm, good question,” I say. “I guess we’d have to cross that bridge when we got to it. But if it did happen, where one of us started feeling some kind of way toward a man, I don’t believe any one of us would pursue it further; especially knowing that he’d been fucking all three of us.”
“Well, what if he wanted to be in a relationship with the three of you?”
I shrug. “Unless he could afford to take care of us, I don’t see something like that ever working. Then there’d be the issue of kids. I don’t know if we’d want to put them through all that. Kids can be real cruel and the last thing I’d want is to have my child being teased and taunted about having cousins who are also their half-brothers and sisters. That would be a mess.”
“Girl, you ain’t never lied about that,” Felecia states, making a face.
“Besides, our mother would take to the grave for sure.” I laugh, glancing over at Paris. She’s sitting over there, looking like she’s lost in thought. I lean up and snap my fingers over in her direction. “Earth to Paris…where are you, girl?”
“Huh, what did you say?”
Felecia laughs. “Damn, girl, you were real deep in thought. You wanna share?”
“Chile,” Paris says, shifting her eyes, “it’s been a long night and this wine has me zoning.” She sips the rest of her drink. “Now what were y’all saying about someone having kids with the same man? I only heard bits and pieces of the story.”
I eye her.
She eyes me back. “What?”
“Annnyway,” I say, turning back to Felecia, “changing the subject. Do you think you’ve ever shared Andre with another woman?” I cross my legs, wait for her answer.
She picks another melon from out of her glass and bites into it. “Mmm, this is good.” She dabs at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “Not that I know of. And hopefully I’ll never have to. I mean, I can’t say what he will or won’t do ’cause shit happens.”
I toss back the rest of my drink, then sit my empty glass down on the table. “Girl, please. Shit does not just happen. It happens because we want it to, okay, whether it’s planned or unexpected.”
“Well, true,” Felecia agrees, holding her glass out for more wine when Porsha walks back into the room with a fresh pitcher full. “All I’m saying is a man’s gonna do what a man’s gonna do; especially if he thinks he can get away with it. I’d rather not find out about it.”
“Well, has he ever shared you with someone else?” Porsha asks, eyeing her, as she fills her glass.
I smile, watching as she guzzles down her drink. Now this is the lush we know and love. Yeah, boo, go on and get ya drink on so we can pump ya ass for dirt. She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb. “Are you asking me if I’ve ever cheated on him?”
What the fuck you think? I tilt my head. “Well, have you?”
“Ohmygod,” she says, covering her face. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here getting ready to tell y’all this…”
I suck my teeth. “Oh, girl, please. Your secret’s safe with us.”
“Oh, I know it is. So to answer your question, yes, I did. Only once, though.”
“Ooooh, girl, you nasty tramp,” Porsha teases. “How long ago was that?”
“It was like in the beginning of our relationship. You know, when I wasn’t sure where things were going with us.” Paris asks her if Andre knows about it. “Oh, helllll no. He would lose his damn mind if he found out about that shit. No, thank you. I’m taking that shit to my grave. He won’t ever beat my ass behind no shit like that.”
“So who was this man and where’d you fuck him?” I inquire.
“I met him in Jamaica, fucked him in Jamaica, and left him in Jamaica. Never to be seen again.” She tells us it was during one of her weekend getaways with Pasha. I ask her if she felt bad about cheating on her man. She shakes her head. “You know what. Not really. Like I said, it happened when Andre and I were still new into the relationship. But I definitely wouldn’t do that shit now.” She asks us if we’ve ever cheated in a relationship. Porsha and Paris tell her no.
I skirt around the question by saying, “All cheating ever does is hurt the ones being cheated on. And it requires too much work and telling too many lies.”
“Yes, it does,” Felecia says, tossing back the remainder of her drink. Porsha starts filling her glass before she gets a chance to sit it down on the coffee table good. I hold back a snicker. “Ooh, girl, thanks.” She takes another sip. “This is deeeelicious. This is my first time having the white sangria. Did you make this?”
Porsha shakes her head. “No, Persia did.”
“Girl, you did your thing,” Felecia says, lifting her glass toward me. “Cheers to you, boo.” I smile, raising my glass as well. “I could drink this all night.”
Yeah, ’cause ya ass is a lush. “Thanks. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Drink up, we have plenty more.” Porsha and Paris smile, patiently waiting along with me for the drinks to finally kick in.
“So tell me,” Felecia says, gulping down the rest of her drink. Okay, this is glass number four; when the hell is she gonna get loose, I think, eyeing Paris on the sly. I mean really. It’s going on almost nine-thirty and this hooker is still talking like she’s been sipping on water all night. Yeah, Aunt Fanny was right. She’s definitely an alcoholic. “When’s the last time any of you had your own man? I mean, one none of you fucked together.” I silently inhale a deep breath. This is not what the hell we invited her ass here for. We tell her it’s been a long while.
“Speaking of Jamaica,” Porsha says, quickly changing the subject. “Did you hear Zane is having some kind of freak-fuck-fest there next week? Word has it she’s rented out a whole resort for the event. And Mr. Marcus himself is gonna be one of the featured guests.”
Felecia perks up in her seat excitedly. “Ohmygod, when?”
“I think it’s like May twelfth to the fifteenth or something like that.”
Felecia pulls out her BlackBerry and starts scrolling through it. “Shit, I musta missed that memo. And I’m usually up on all the happenings. Mmmph. I love me some damn Zane; the two of us are friends in my head.”
“She’s too over-the-top for me,” Paris says. “I mean, some of that stuff she writes about is soooo damn nasty.”
“Girl, please,” Felecia says, fanning herself. “The nastier the better. I’ve freaked Andre’s ass plenty of nights to some of her shit; especially after a night of watching her Zane’s Sex Chronicles on Cinemax. Whew, it was one sexy-ass show. I’m so mad she’s not doing another season. But, anyway…this Jamaica thing sounds like it’s gonna be off the damn hook. I swear I wish I could go. Anything that freaky-ass Zane does is gonna be top-notch.”
“Well, maybe you and Andre should go,” Porsha says. “From what I’ve heard, she still has a few rooms available.” She says Andre would never go for it. That he’s real reserved when it comes to stuff like that. “Well, then, you should take Pasha. It could be her last getaway as a single woman before she goes down the aisle in a few months.”
“I don’t know,” she says thoughtfully. “Pasha’s real different now that she’s had the baby and all. She’s not gonna want to leave him. And Jasper is definitely not gon
na let her ass go off to some Zane event. Not without him.”
I smile, glancing over at Porsha. I wink at her on the sly. “So, how is Pasha, really? We haven’t seen or spoke to her since she’s had the baby. And every time I come down to the shop she’s never there.”
Felecia twists in her seat. Porsha reaches over to fill her glass. Drink number five. “Girl, y’all know how to keep the drinks flowin’; just how I like it. Keep a bitch’s glass full, okay.” She takes a long sip. Finally, her eyes are starting to get that glassy look that lets us know she’s feeling nice. We laugh. “But, umm, Pasha’s good,” she continues, not sounding too convincing.
“Are you sure?” I question, raising a brow. “I mean, after all she’s been through…you know, with being kidnapped and…” I pause for effect, shaking my head. “…beaten. I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like for her.”
“Girl, none of us can. It was horrible. She wouldn’t let any of us come up to see her in the hospital. Not even Nana. It tore her up.”
“Ohmygod,” Persia says, clutching her chest. “I’m sure it did. But, I’m surprised she didn’t want you there. Y’all have always been very close.”
Felecia looks off. “Yeah, I didn’t understand that. But, I respected her wishes. Jasper was by her side every day and kept me informed of her progress.” She guzzles back the rest of her drink, then reaches over for the pitcher. This time she pours her own troubles. Paris wants to know if Pasha had been raped. I ask where they found her since all we knew was that she was found in a park badly beaten. Persia asks if she’s been in any counseling for it.
Felecia shakes her head. “No, she doesn’t think she needs it. She won’t even talk about it. It’s crazy. It’s like it never happened. If you bring up, she immediately shuts down.”
“I’m sure she does,” Paris says sympathetically. “It was a traumatic experience.”
Felecia takes a sip from her drink. “Yeah, it really was. All she worried about was losing her baby. Her only focus was putting the whole ordeal behind her and carrying her baby to full-term.”