by Cairo
“Aaaaah…aaaaah…uhhhh…ooooh…”
She’s panting, hovering over the edge when I say—in a voice hoarse with lust and emotion, “I don’t want anyone but you, Marika. Don’t ever doubt me. Or us.”
And then I come.
Deep inside.
Filling her with everything I am.
TWENTY-SIX
Marcel
Keyshia Cole’s “Woman to Woman” slowly fades out as I adjust my headset and lean up in my seat. “What’s good, my freak-nasty peeps…if you’re just tuning in to the Tri-state area’s hottest radio station, 93.3 The Heat, sit back…relax…light a candle…pour yourself a glass of your favorite wine…pull out your favorite lube…your favorite toy…or hit up that special someone…and prepare to be stimulated beyond your own imagination as we finish up tonight’s topic: Man sharing. That’s right, peeps. Tonight’s segment goes out to the other woman. The Sideline Ho. The Side Chick. The Mistress. The Jump-off. The Home Wrecker. The One-Time Trick. Eff what ya heard, cheating is real. It’s at an all-time high. And tonight we’re gettin’ down ‘n’ dirty. Is monogamy extinct? Is it nonexistent? Holla at ya boy. Let’s turn up the heat ‘n’ get it in. 212-FreakMe…”
My phone lines are lit up. “Yo, what’s good…you’re on the air…”
“Yo, what’s goodie, MarSell? This L-Rock from East Orange, yo.”
“Aiight, aiight. What’s on ya mind, playboy?”
“Yo, fam. Real shit. Niggahs stay trippin’ wit’ all that love shit. Fuc—bleep a bitch ‘n’ keep fuc—bleep—in’. I don’t have sex to please a bitch. I have sex to get a nut. Feel me? All that extra shit is for the birds, man. I gotta girl ‘n’ three hoes ‘n’ they all know what it is.”
What the fuck this gotta do with the topic? Dumb fuck! “Oh, word? Well, how ’bout you let the listeners know what it is,” I say, shaking my head and rolling my eyes up in my head. These ignorant-ass muhfuckas kill me.
“Man, they all know not to come at me wit’ no bullshit. Feel me? Don’t come to my crib. Don’t step to my girl. Respect my space. And we good. Come outta pocket ‘n’ feel my wrath.”
I glance over at Nina, who has a lollipop stuck between her plump lips. She shakes her head.
“So basically what you’re saying is, ya girl is cool with sharing you with other broads?”
“Hell naw she ain’t cool wit’ it!” he snaps. “But she knows there’s nothin’ she can do about it. I holds it down at home. And I do what I do. I put this good D on ’em ‘n’ turn ’em out. But my girl knows I love her. She knows she’s got my heart. But all these basic broads out here who stupid enough to let muhfuckas like me dig in that ass whenever we want, knowin’ we got a girl at home, can fall back wit’ all that lookin’ for love ish.”
“Oh, aiight. And you don’t think ya girl sitting at home is just as stupid, knowing her man is out doing him?”
“Hell naw! Like I said, she knows what time it is. And my girl ain’t goin’ nowhere, anyway. So what’s ya point, dawg?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Yo, the point is, stupid is what stupid does.” I end the call. “Next caller.”
“Hi, MarSell. This is LaToya from New Haven. I’m currently going through this situation right now. I mean, I don’t know if I’m the main chick or the side chick.”
Another silly, rabbit-ass broad. “Yo, why you say that, ma-ma? What’s good?”
She sighs. “Well, I live with my baby father and we have sex like two to three times a week, but on those nights we don’t, it’s because he doesn’t come home. He says he’s out making money, but I go through his phone and find all kinds of naked pictures and dirty text messages from other females. And a few times I got in my car and rode around until I found his car.”
I blink. “Damn, ma-ma. Sounds like you doin’ too much. It’s obvious you aren’t the only one. But you’re still with him. So riddle me this, ma-ma: Are you good with sharing ya man?”
There’s a silent pause.
“Caller, you still there?”
“Y-yes.” Sniffles. “H-he’s even brought females into the house and sexed them while I was in the other room sleep.” She blows her nose. “Sometimes I feel so stupid. But I’m so scared I’ll lose him.”
Sometimes? Really? “Well, babe…like I told the last caller. Stupid is what stupid does. If you choose to allow ya baby father to disrespect you, then you get what you get.”
“So you judging me now? You think I deserve what he’s doing to me?”
“Nah, ma-ma. No judgment. I think you deserve to get ya mind right ‘n’ do better. You already lost him. The day you let him dog you out, the moment you accepted his disrespect, he checked out on you. And if you want the truth, you’ve been reduced to being his in-house cum dump. So if that’s all you aspire to be, then my advice, baby…strap up ‘n’ hope he doesn’t bring you home something you can’t get rid of. Next caller. You’re on the air…”
“Hey, boo. This Marquita. I’m a Sideline Ho. And PROUD of it! What? My man pays my bills and gives me the dic—bleep, then goes home to his wife and kids. And trust. I got my shit together. I’m not some broke, uneducated chick. And I’m not the problem, or his wife’s problem. He is. His stupid-ass wife knows he’s a filthy-ass pig, yet she chooses to stay with him knowing he’s out here breaking his wedding vows to her. Stupid ass.”
“Wow. And you’re good with being the sidepiece?”
“Yup. Why wouldn’t I be? I get the benefits of having the man without having the drama and headaches of his lying, cheating-ass ways. At the end of the day, I might be on the sideline, but I can drop him at any time and move onto the next. These silly-ass chicks always wanna blame the other woman, like we’re the enemy. No, hun. You’re sleeping with him. You’re sucking him. You’re having his babies. If anything, you’re the one doing too much. If you ask me, most of them dumb-ass hoes should be celebrating the sidepieces. We’re the ones giving her man stress-free sex ‘n’ most times keeping him from coming home and beating her ass.”
I blink. “Well, damn, baby. Tell us how you really feel.”
“Ha. Truth hurts, boo. Them hoes married cheaters. Don’t blame me for him cheating. Most of these tricks know what kind of man she has before she marries him or lets him knock her up. So why they stay acting surprised that he’s out getting his creep on is beyond me!” She laughs. “All I’ma say to them stupid hoes is, see you in divorce court or the STD clinic!”
Click.
“Well, daaaaayum. She had some real fire in her veins, huh? I guess she told us.” I laugh. “Yo, but on the real, like it or not, some of what she says is truth.” I let ’em know we’re going into a quick break. “But before we do, riddle me this: how many of you beauties who’re being cheated on have played the other woman? Keep it gangsta, baby. What goes around comes around.”
I remove my headset as Monica’s “Sideline Ho” eases over the airwaves and check in with Marika real quick. Then hit up Carlos to see if he’s down at the studio.
I glance over at Nina and smile as Soul Children’s “I’ll Be the Other Woman” eases over the air. She’s taking them way back with this classic old-school joint. The shit cracks me up. The jump-off singing about being cool with dude cheating on his wife with her, but ain’t checking for him if he’s cheating on her too. Unfuckinbelievable. But there are plenty of broads who think like this.
I ease my headphones back on and take the next caller…
“Hi, MarSell. This is Teirra from Paterson.”
“Yo, what’s good, Teirra. What’s your situation, ma-ma?”
She sighs into the phone. “Well, sad to say, but right now I’m going through something similar to all the other callers. I’ve given my man six years of my life. Fast-forward three children and a home later, I find out he’s been cheating on me, and now I’m not sure if she’s the sideline piece, or if I am. And the crazy thing is, he’s been fu—bleep—ing her for five years. Not once has he ever given me any signs that he was cheating on
me. He’s home every night, in our bed, answers my calls whenever I call him throughout the day, and makes sure I’m taken care of in and out of the bedroom.”
“Damn. How’d you find out?”
“The bitch called me at my job! She said she couldn’t take the lies and fakeness anymore and thought it was time we had a talk woman to woman. And you won’t believe what she had the audacity to say to me.” She doesn’t give me a chance to ask. “That whore told me I needed to let him go because he was no good for me. That he doesn’t want me. That bitch wants me to leave my man ’cause he’s no-good for me, but he’s good enough for her. Bitch, please.”
“So whatchu gonna do?”
“I don’t know. I still love him, though.”
I cock an eyebrow and shake my head. “Yo, check it. You need to love you more, ma-ma. Unless you think you deserve to be reduced to ya man’s sidepiece, my advice: cut ya losses. Let ya Facebook gal-pal have him. Let me know how you make it. Next caller.”
“This is Raqaunnaleesha from Union.”
What the fuck?! I’m not even about to try’n pronounce that shit. “Yo, what’s good with you, ma-ma?”
She grunts. “What’s good is that dirty bitch, Marquita, calling in. I’m the wife. Always have been, always will be. Ten years. And what? That stupid ho calling-in with a buncha damn lies. Yeah, that bitch been fuc—bleep—ing my husband. But that trifling ho forgot to tell you how many times she’s tried to get pregnant by him. Yeah, Marquita, trick-ass bitch! Why you ain’t tell him how many times you fished through the trash for my husband’s used condoms, you filthy bitch! And how many times you’ve poked holes in ’em just so you can have what I got?”
“Oh, word? Daaaaamn. It’s like that?”
“Yeah, it’s like that. The thirst is real, boo. That skank-bitch knows I got a good man. And a damn good father to my two kids. And she’s jealous. Yeah, she might get the dic—bleep and she might even get a few dollars out of him, but there’s two things that bitch will never get. And that’s his baby. Or for him to put a ring on it.”
“Yo, hold up, ma-ma. Let me get this straight. So you’re good with sharing ya man, is that what you’re saying?”
“Uh, nooo. Follow the yellow brick road, boo. What I said is, that bitch will never have what I got. No matter how many times my man crawls up in her bed. Honey, get your shit together. You got on national radio and made a fool of yourself. It doesn’t matter if my man spends the night with you, his home and his heart is somewhere else. Aren’t you tired of playing the sidepiece? You disrespectful bitches need to grow up and find you your own man.”
“Um, dig, ma-ma. No disrespect. But, uh, sounds to me like you need to get your shit together as well. You’ve just made a fool out of ya’self, too. Aren’t you tired of playing the role of disrespected wife? Aren’t you tired of playing victim? You know what ya man is doing ‘n’ you sounding like one big hot mess, ma-ma. Be well, baby. Next caller…”
“Yo, fam, this ya boy, Two-Tone. Bedstuy, niggah, what? Do or Die! Stand up! I wanna give a shout-out to all my niggahs who still payin’ for pus—bleep—y after the club let out.”
I frown. Yo, this muhfucka…
I let the retarded muhfucka live and disconnect on his ass. We go into another quick break. I stand and stretch my arms up over my head. Then crack my neck from side to side, reaching for my cell. The chiming sound lets me know it’s a text from Marika. I type in my password, then retrieve my text. Marika sends me a picture of herself posing in front of the mirror in black heels and her panties on. My mouth waters.
ME: DAMN! Y U FUCKIN W/ME?
MARIKA: U MAKE ME FEEL SEXY
Nina waves her hands to get my attention. We’re about to go back on the air. I hit Marika back real quick. Let her know I gotta run. Then tell her to hit me with some more of them sexy-ass flicks.
I sit back in my seat and adjust my headset as Mary J’s “No Happy Holidays” fades out. I glance at the time. It’s eleven thirty. Thirty more minutes! I’m ready to get home and crawl up in bed with my wife. Real shit.
“Yo, what’s good, my freaks…we’re back with more Creepin’ ‘n’ Freakin’ After Dark. And man, listen. Y’all got the phone lines going nuts tonight. And judging by the number of listeners who’ve already called in, infidelity appears to be an epidemic. Let me get back to the phone lines.” I pick up line three. “Yo, what’s good; it’s ya boy, MarSell. Who’s this?”
“This is LaRhonda from Uptown.”
“Oh, aiight, LaRhonda from Uptown. What’s good, ma-ma?”
“Mmph. I’ma tell you what’s good, boo. This good-good; that’s what. Them bitches out here calling in and hating on us side chicks. Ha! Call me what you want, like I’m supposed to give a fu—bleep about what your invisible asses think. I’m still that chick. And, bitch, trust. I’m coming fo’ yo’ man. Get used to it. Because bitches like me ain’t going nowhere. We don’t mind sharing. At least, I know I don’t. All I want is the dic—bleep. He leaves me with a smile on his face. Yeah, he’s running home to you. But I’m the one he’s thinking of when he’s lying in bed next to you. I’m the one he’s missing. I’m the one he can’t wait to see again.
“I’m the one he’s sneaking text messages and phone calls to. I’m the one he can’t get enough of. Not you, hon. So for all those miserable-ass broads sitting at home, or riding around tryna find where their man’s getting his creep on at, get yo’ life, dumb-ass. I’m happy with playing the sideline while you play wifey or the mainline chick. Ha! The real fools in the room are you, clown-ass hoes. I get to fuc—bleep your man, run his wallet, then send him home to ya stressed-out ass. I don’t wanna keep him, boo-boo. You do. Truth be told, I feel sorry for you.”
Click.
“Damn, yo. She just hit us, straight like that. Raw ‘n’ hard.”
The next four callers go off on the women who get down with playing the sidepiece, calling them all types of snake-bitches, whores, home wreckers, etc.
“Daaaamn,” I say, feeling a headache creeping up in the center of my forehead. “Y’all goin’ in on the side chicks like they’re really ya problem. Like one caller already stated, she’s not your problem. Ya man is. And, real shit. I gotta agree. But know this, if you rockin’ with a mofo who creeps, you are not the cause. He or she makes a conscious choice to step outta the relationship to get it in with someone else, whether it’s a one-time stick ‘n’ move, a weekend fling, or some ongoing affair, it’s purposeful, my peeps. And that’s real shit.
“But, yo, hold up. Don’t get it twisted. Broads are real grimy, too. They cheat just as much as the fellas do. The only difference is, chicks real sweet with how they get it in. Ya heard. Bottom line…the only home wrecker in the room is the one who steps outta their drawz to get it in with someone else without consent from their mate. And for you dumbo broads putting in applications for all those vacant sidepiece spots, don’t feel the least bit guilty for gettin’ ya swerve on. Do you. But don’t be messy with ya shit. Don’t disrespect a mofo’s situation just because he is. Stay in ya lane. Play ya position. Respect the game. You have ya reasons for doing what you do just like the chick who stays taking her man back or frontin’ like she doesn’t know what time it is, does.
“My advice to everyone else who ain’t beat for all the extras that come with creepin’ is this: Keep them freak flags flying. High. Keep shit spicy in them sheets. Keep them lines of communication open. Keep ya sexy on. And, yeah, fellas, you need to keep ya situations tight, too. Give ya women something to look forward to. Give ’em a reason to want to jump up ‘n’ down on ya bone without you having to ask for it. Stimulate her mind. Seduce her. That is all I’ma say on that. Get at me on Twitter or Instagram. Thanks for tuning into another bangin’ segment of 93.3’s Creepin’ ‘n’ Freakin’ After Dark. It’s been real. Until the next time…keep it sexy, keep it wet…always keep it ready. I’m out.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Marika
Hot breath.
Slick
tongue.
I spread my quivering thighs wider, opening my sweet pussy to Nairobia’s gaze. She traces a finger along my delicate folds, opening me wider, taking in my cum-and-spit slick cunt. Heat spreads like wildfire through my veins as she groans into my wet, tingling flesh. “Aah, mmmm…so delicious. So pretty.”
She licks, softly at first, swiping the entire pad of her wicked tongue over my slit and up my clit, swirling around the velvety pink nub. It swells and throbs as she delicately pulls it between her teeth with a light sucking motion.
I fight to catch my breath as Nairobia lovingly caresses my clit, then sucks and licks my pussy lips. Nibbling. Kissing. Licking. Laving. Nairobia’s tongue scorches over my sex as she circles my clit, then plunges inside of me.
I gasp. “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes…Mmmm, yessss…tongue my pussy. Yes.”
She stops licking and starts sucking, alternating quick up-and-down strokes with darting and dipping, fucking into me.
I am beside myself.
Crazy with want.
Crazy with need.
Crazy with desire.
Nairobia takes my pussy with an open-mouthed kiss, purring, “Give me your sweet juices.”
I welcome her tongue with a deep moan, knowing she’s pulling another orgasm from me. I am almost there. She spears me with her tongue in anticipation.
Yes, God!
My body purrs.
Nairobia raises her face, licks her lips and smiles softly. “My mouth waters to suck more of your sweet juices. My own cunt drips for you.”
I gaze down at her through lusty slits. And then she disappears, both her hands on my thighs, parting them wide as her warm tongue feathers across my clit, sending chills along my spine. She whispers something I am unable to decipher in her native tongue that sends me teetering on the brink of climax.
“Mm-hmm…oooh,” I whimper, losing myself in the sensations flowing through me. “Yes, yes, yessssss…”
Nairobia whispers, her hot breath against my cunt, “Precious pussy.”