Man Swappers

by Cairo

  I blink, shocked that she’s come at me in this fashion. I watch as she slips out of her heels. Either her feet are hurting, or she’s preparing to jump up and charge me. Either way, I brace myself, rising up in my seat as well. As I’m sitting here with her, it dawns on me that this is the first time she and I have been alone in a room together in years. There’s no Porsha or Paris or Daddy to keep us from killing each other. There’s nothing but space and air between us. She stares me down. I stare back. “Well, I’m waiting.”

  “You already know all of this.”

  “I want to hear it again,” she says, shifting back in her seat.

  I remain perched on the edge of mine; just in case. “I see you as a weak woman,” I admit, staring directly into her eyes. She doesn’t blink. “You sat around and let Daddy cheat on you, then you’d wanna run out to chase him down, banging on doors and confronting his whores instead of leaving him.”

  “Are you serious? The fact that I stayed with my husband, your father, and raised my daughters, made sure you all had the best of everything, and kept our home intact while he was out there cheating, makes me weak? I married your father knowing what kind of man he was. Yes, he had other women. But make no mistake, a fool I was not. And weak, I was not. Hurt, yes. But never anyone’s fool. Your father did nothing I didn’t allow him to do to me. He cheated on me because I let him. And leaving him was never an option, regardless of how many women he slept with. I chose to stay with him because I loved him then, and I love him now. He took care of home. And he took damn good care of you girls. Yes, I could’ve left him. Yes, I could’ve put him out. And I did pack his shit, numerous times. But he kept coming back.”

  “Because you kept taking him back,” I state, rolling my eyes. “You acted like you couldn’t live without him.”

  “I didn’t want to,” she snaps. “I took him back because I wanted him back. Not because I needed him. Not because I couldn’t live without him. Our home, his business, everything we own, is in my name. If I wanted to be the messy wife, I could’ve divorced him and walked off with every-damn-thing and never looked back. And your father knew it. But I wanted my marriage. And, yes, I turned a blind eye to his other women as long as they stayed in their place and respected my space. That was our agreement. So forgive me for loving your father and for wanting to keep my marriage instead of walking out on everything we built together.”

  “Then that makes you no different from me. You willingly and knowingly shared him, period!”

  “Girlfriend,” she snaps, leaning forward in her seat with her hand on her hip. “I’m nothing like your nasty, trifling ass.”

  “Whatever. The fact is, for years, you shared him with other women, so you’re just as nasty and trifling. Yet, you have a problem with what we do.”

  She lets out a disgusted grunt. “Ugh! Don’t you dare sit there and compare what I did to the nastiness you’ve dragged your sisters into.”

  “Mother, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, defensively. “I haven’t dragged Porsha or Paris into anything. They’re grown women. They don’t have to do anything they don’t want to.”

  “And you’ve always been able to manipulate them.”

  “I haven’t manipulated them into doing anything. You’re delusional and jealous.”

  She snorts. “Jealous of what, the relationship you have with your sisters? The three of you are supposed to be close—you’re sisters. That’s how I raised you all to be. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a conniving, manipulative little bitch—excuse my French. But, the truth is the truth. Even when you were little girls, you always found a way to get Paris and Porsha to side with you. They idolized you. They’ve been so blinded by their love for you that they haven’t been able to see what kind of sick hold you’ve had on them. But trust me. One day they’ll see you for what you truly are. A nasty bitch! And you’re going to end up losing both of them.”

  I’m literally stunned that she’s called me a bitch, right here in my own home—not once, but twice. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. But the truth is, I’m ready to go off on her. “Mother, it’s time for you to grab your bag and go before I say or do something that you’ll regret.”

  She remains in her seat. “I’m not leaving until we finish this conversation. So, if you feel like you wanna do or say something, then you do it. And I’ll beat the shit out of you. Trust me on this, darling child of mine. I’ve had enough of your mouth and your disrespect. I’m your mother, whether you like it or not.”

  I clench my teeth. “I’m a grown-ass woman. I own my own business, and I handle my business. Look around you. Everything in here my sisters and I have worked for. I don’t ask you for anything, and neither do they. So what we do with our lives is none of your business. You want respect, then respect me. You come up into my home and disrespect me. You call me a fucking bitch in my home.”

  “Well, you are,” she snaps. “So get over it. I’ve accepted that you and I will never have any other type of relationship other than what we already have; strained.”

  I shift back in my seat, glaring at her. “Okay, Mother. And your point?”

  “The point is, Persia, I know you don’t like me; you never have. Every chance you’ve gotten, you’ve tried to make that little fact known. And, yes, it used to hurt, knowing that one of my daughters had so much disdain and hatred toward me. But it’s okay ’cause you are an evil, miserable woman. You always will be.”

  “How dare you?” I snap, leaning forward in my seat. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Mother.”

  She shakes her head. “You were a sneaky, vindictive little bitch growing up, and you’re sneaky and vindictive now. You’re full of hate. That’s what I know.”

  “Mother…get out!” I yell, jumping up from my seat. I storm over to the door, swinging it open. “Get out of my goddamn house, now!”

  She stands up, slipping back into her heels, then grabbing her handbag. “Oh, I’ll get out, but know this. Just like you went out and fucked Porsha’s boyfriend and his cousin then got your little nasty ass pregnant, I know in my gut it was you who fucked all those boys out in the woods, then told them your name was Paris. It was because of you and your whorish-ass ways that the kids were whispering and calling Paris a whore and slut behind her back; a reputation that rightfully belonged to you. You fucked those boys. You let them run their dicks all up in you every-which-a-way. And you sat back and let your sister deal with the backlash. And, still, she forgave you. Because you’re her sister and she loves you. But the shit you’ve done to them is despicable. If I were them, I wouldn’t want anything to do with you.”

  I swallow, hard. She’s bringing up my past, snatching my skeletons from out of their hiding place and throwing their bones back in my face. I have no words other than, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

  “I’m leaving, but make no mistake. If you ever jump up like you’re ready to fight, I’m going to forget that I gave birth to you and I’m gonna give you a good old-fashioned, Newark beatdown.”

  I stare at her as she walks by me. “I fucking hate you.” The words come out in a low mumble, but audible enough for her to hear.

  Slap!

  I blink.

  Slap!

  “I know you hate me. And I don’t give a fuck if you ever open your mouth to say another word to me. Because the truth is, I don’t like you, either. And I never have. I love you because you’re my child, but bitch, I’ll beat you into the fucking ground if you ever talk to me like that again.”

  I’m literally paralyzed by shock. My ears ring, and I’m seeing stars. This woman has slapped me and admitted she doesn’t like me! I am done!

  Pain

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  It’s nine o’clock at night.

  Royce’s fingers dig into my hips as he thrusts in me; his humongous Mandingo cock piercing me to the seams, stretching my pussy beyond capacity. A sweet, delicious pain sweeps through my body like a wildfire. A moa
n bursts from my throat. “Ohhhhhhhgod…this dick is so good…”

  “Yeah, ma…this good dick is all yours…”

  “You like fucking this pussy?”

  “Aaaah, shit yeah…I love fuckin’ this wet-ass pussy…” He pushes my legs up over my head, watches as his dick slides in and out of me. He pulls it out to the head, slowly stirs the opening of my slit. “Slap that clit for me…”

  I smack and pop my clit. My cunt drools and nips at the head of his cock, like a hungry mouth as he teases me with it. He pulls it all the way out, then slams it back in. picking up his pace. I lift my hips; welcome him deep. The pressure of his dick pounds my G-spot, vibrating through my clit. My body is flush, my chest heaving. I pinch my tight nipples. Royce’s relentless thrusting causes a ball of intense fire to erupt around the opening of my pussy. I moan, digging my nails into his flesh.

  He moans. “Aaaah, shit you got some hot pussy…”

  “Oh, yes…fuck me, little daddy…beat my pussy up…aaaaahhhh…”

  He rolls over onto his back, rolling me on top of him. His dick still stuffed deep inside of me. “I want you to ride this big dick,” he tells me, squeezing a big chunk of my ass, then slapping it. “Cum all over it.”

  I reach in back of me, grab at his balls as I ride him. My ass going up and down, it doesn’t take long before I feel a burning sensation ripping through my loins and I’m coming, long and hard.

  Royce has become a regular in my bed. A three times a week fuck; sometimes four.

  “Uhhhhhh…oooh…this big-ass, motherfucking dick…make my pussy so hot…slap my titties, motherfucker.” It is his cue. I want it rough. He slaps each one, striking my nipples. I grunt, galloping up and down the length of his shaft. I slap his face. He slaps me back.

  “Yeah, ride this dick, bitch…”

  “Who’s bitch am I?” I ask, pinching his nipples. He moans. Juts his hips upward, stabbing into me. I match him thrust for thrust.

  “Mine,” he says in a throaty whisper.

  “Choke me then, nigga.”

  I have my hands around his throat. He places his hands around mine and squeezes until my eyes bulge. I start to feel light-headed. In a flash, the orgasm comes in hot, rapid waves. Gut-deep sensations surge through me. I lean in; bite Royce’s bottom lip. He bites me back. We go at it rough and dirty for forty minutes before he’s standing up, dipping at the knees, rapidly fucking me. A guttural bellow pushes out of me. I’m coming again. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, my tongue probing deeply into his mouth. I close my eyes, then open them, staring into his young, handsome, sweaty face. My body trembles and Royce moans as hot, tight spasms milk his shaft. He’s squeezing my ass, fucking me up and down over his cock. His mouth finds my left nipple. He bites it, causing me to cry out. Scream and buck up against him, my pussy juice squirting as he shudders, spurting his hot nut.

  He falls back on the bed, panting hard and exhausted with his cock still tucked inside my sticky, slick cunt. I collapse on top of him, resting my head on his shoulder as I continue to shake. I’m still coming. I grind down on his dick nice and slow, then lift up off of it. I pull the condom off, then take his dick into my mouth, sucking his sweet creamy nut.

  He wraps his hand in my hair, bouncing my head up and down. “Damn, ma…yeah, suck that dick…I’m gettin’ ready to bust another nut right down in ya throat.” I continue sucking his dick, then lapping at his balls, then licking his asshole. My fingers slip behind his balls while my wet tongue probes and dances against his tight manhole. When he relaxes, I slip a finger in. He gasps. I pop his dick back into my mouth, then “Aaaaahhh, shit…” I increase the suction on his dick, curling my finger until I am massaging his prostrate. I look up slantways at him. His eyes are rolling up in his head. I can tell he’s starting to feel the pressure building up in his balls, his ass, in the pit of his stomach as he bucks his hips, and grabs at the sheets. He thrusts his hips upward, clogging my throat with his cock. In between loud grunts, he comes hard, flooding my mouth with his cum. I swallow as much as I can, allowing the overflow to spill out of my mouth and onto my chin.

  I’m in love with this man’s dick. And I’ll continue to fuck him. I may have let Desmond go out of necessity, but not Royce. He stays. I lick my lips, scoop the cream that clings to my chin off with my fingers, then lift them to his mouth. He sucks them clean. Watching Royce eat his own cum has turned me on even more.

  I smile.

  And he smiles back. “I gotta ’nother nut for you.” He pushes my head down. “Finish sucking it outta my dick.”

  I oblige him, wrapping my lips around his dick, then sucking and humming until I’ve sucked it clean as a whistle and he’s fallen off to sleep.

  Porsha

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  “I swear I hope that woman doesn’t open her mouth to say shit to me,” Persia says, washing her Neutrogena face mask off. “I don’t even want to look in her face.”

  I roll my eyes up in my head. “And what woman are you talking about?” I ask, knowingly. She’s referring to our mother. It’s been a week since the face-slapping incident and she’s still harping on it. When I came home and saw her face bruised and she told me mother had slapped her, I knew she must have pushed the envelope with her.

  Interestingly, Persia’s version of the story is that Mother barged her way into the house demanding to talk to her, then started verbally attacking her. Then when she asked her to leave, she hauled off and smacked her. Of course Mother’s version is somewhat different. And I believe hers over Persia’s. I know our mother. And I know how her mouth can be. But, I also know Persia. And if Mother slapped her, it was for good damn cause.

  “I’m talking about your mother, who else?” she states, brushing her teeth.

  I get up from my seat and walk over to the bathroom, leaning up against the doorframe. “Umm, considering we’re all sitting at the same table, I’m not sure how that’s gonna work out for you. And I’m thinking this whole seating situation might be a bit uncomfortable with all the tension between the two of you.”

  She rinses her mouth. “Hopefully, I can switch seats with someone and not have to be bothered with her.”

  I eye her. “Are you sure you want to go? I’m sure Pasha will understand. Actually, I’m sure she’d prefer you not be there if you and Mother are going to get into it. The last thing we need is the two of you tearing the place up.”

  She drops her towel, walking out of the bathroom. I watch her as she bounces around her bedroom naked, pulling out underwear until she finds the right pair to wear. Then she tosses them all back in the drawer, deciding not to wear any. “Trust me. I have no intentions of saying anything to that woman. After that stunt she pulled, she’s dead to me. So there’s nothing to worry about. I’m not going to get into it with her. I’m going to the wedding. I’m going to have myself a damn good time, in spite of her. If I’m lucky enough, there’ll be a fine-ass groomsman I can fuck in the backseat of one of the limos.”

  I shake my head, watching her lotion her body. “Persia, don’t you think you need to take some responsibility for what happened?”

  She stops what she’s doing and stares at me. “So, you’re saying I’m responsible for that woman coming up in here disrespecting me, then slapping me? I did nothing to her. She attacked me.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Then what are you saying?” she asks defensively. She has her hand on her hip.

  I glance at the crystal clock on her dresser. It’s a quarter to three. The wedding is at five. “Persia, we both know you’re not the victim here. Your attitude toward our mother has always been nasty. It’s no wonder the two of you have never gotten along. If you ask me, both of you are stubborn, and overly opinionated. I can’t help but to wonder what you said to her for her to slap you.”

  She huffs. “For the hundredth time, I said nothing to that woman. I mumbled something under my breath and she heard it.”

  “And what is it
you mumbled, oh dearest sister, because up until now you’ve been adamant that you didn’t do anything.”

  “I mumbled I fucking hated her.”

  I tilt my head, staring at her. I blink three times. Persia is a fucking mess. “Then, sweetie, you deserved to have your face slapped. And my advice to you is to apologize to her.”

  She gives me a look of indignation. “The hell if I will. She should be apologizing to me.” Having this conversation is moot. I spin off on my heels and walk toward the door. “Where are you going?”

  “To get ready.”

  “Ugh,” Paris sighs, disgusted. “Of all days to get a fucking flat, it had to be today.” We’re on the shoulder of the Garden State Parkway, heading south waiting on a tow truck. The GPS says we’re fifteen miles away from our destination. “And now we’re going to miss the whole ceremony. We should’ve taken my car.”

  I suck my teeth. “There’s still a chance we can make it in time.”

  She glances at her watch. “Mmmph.”

  I roll my eyes. “You act like I planned this or something. The tow truck should be here shortly. Then we’ll be on our way.”

  Persia flips down the visor, checks her face and hair in the mirror. “This must be a sign,” she says nonchalantly. She fusses with a curl until it is lying just so.

  I’m looking out of my sideview mirror at the speeding cars flying by us, too aggravated to ask her what she means. And Paris is too caught up in her text from our mother stating the ceremony is about to start to be concerned either.

  “Well, so much for that,” Paris says, sitting back in her seat. “There’s no way we’ll make the ceremony now.”

  “Look on the bright side. We’ll be there for the reception.” Paris rolls her eyes up in her head. Persia grunts. I’m relieved when I see the tow truck finally pulling up behind us.

  It is six o’clock when we finally pull up into Stillwell Estates, an exclusive gated community of magnificent estates in a cul-de-sac. When we find the address, I turn into the winding driveway and gasp.