Deep Throat Diva

by Cairo

  A tapping sound forces me out of my killing trance. It’s Felecia peering into the passenger side window. I crack the window, realizing it’s stopped raining. “Girl, you must be deep in thought. Didn’t you hear me tapping on the window?”

  I shake my head. “Chile, I have so much on my mind right now. I didn’t hear shit.”

  “Well, what in the hell you sitting out here for?” I tell her I was waiting for the rain to stop. “Well, as you can see, it’s stopped. So hurry up and come in before it starts coming down again. Geesh, you act like you gonna melt or something.”

  “Whatever,” I say, rolling the window up on her. I turn off the ignition, removing the key, then gathering my things to go inside. Felecia is already through the door when I finally get out of the car. She leaves the door open for me.

  Once inside, she and I chat for a bit, about nothing in particular, mostly about the appointments for the day. She doesn’t have any gossip for me today. And honestly, I’m kind of glad she doesn’t. As I make my way to my office, we make plans to sneak out of work early tomorrow to catch happy hour down at P.F. Chang’s.

  “And I wanna be outta here by two-thirty. So that means no appointments after twelve.”

  I laugh. “It figures your drunk-ass would want to be the first one there.”

  She laughs with me. “Yep…damn straight. I wanna be pressed to the barstool by three-fifteen so I can get my three hour’s worth of drink on.” I shake my head, preparing to walk off when she stops me in my tracks. “Umm, by the way…I meant to tell you Cassandra wants you to give her a call. I ran into her last night in Wal-mart with three of her bad-ass kids.”

  “Oh, okay. Does she need a hair appointment?”

  “No, she said something about tracking down that roach-ass nigga who came through here tryna call you out a couple of weeks ago.”

  OhmyGod, please don’t tell me she told Felecia more than this. “Oh, really,” I say, trying not to sound anxious. “Did she say anything else?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope; just for you to call her when you can. Hopefully, she got the rundown on that muthafucka so we can find out who the hell put him up to that shit. I shoulda knocked all of his fronts out, coming in here with that bullshit.”

  I roll my eyes, waving her on. “Girl, let it go. His ass ain’t even worth it. We have no time getting caught up in some ignorant ass nigga’s shit. As long as he doesn’t bring his ass up in here with that shit again, I could not care less who sent him here. Fuck ’im.”

  She tilts her head; eyes me, furrowing her brows. “So let me get this straight. You mean to tell me you’re not the least bit curious about who put that nigga up to it?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Hmmph, you’re good. ’Cause I’d wanna know.”

  “Then what?” I ask, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. But the truth is this conversation is not only making me uncomfortable, it’s starting to give me a pounding headache.

  “Then I would have that nigga handled.”

  “Well, I don’t have time for that.”

  “No, but that’s what you have a man for—to step to that nigga for comin’ outta pocket.”

  “Wrong answer,” I say, putting a hand up on my hip. “Jasper does not need to be getting caught up in no dumb shit. There was no harm done, so he’s not to hear anything about it,” I warn, pausing. I eye her for effect. “Agreed?”

  She puts her hand up in mock surrender. “I’m just sayin’. He—”

  I put my hand up to stop her. “Not. A. Word.”

  Alright,” she says, shaking her head. “Not a word. Still, I think he should know.”

  I sigh. “Sweetie, this is not about what you think; it’s about what I need you to do—to have my back. So, let it go.”

  “Okay,” she says, dusting her hands off, “done.”

  I smile. “Thank you. Let me know when my appointment gets here,” I tell her, walking back to my office. I try to keep my steps slow and steady. One foot in front of the other, seemingly unnerved. But the truth is I am a fucking wreck!

  I shut the door behind me, racing to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I need an apple martini—no, scratch that…a damn bottle of tequila, I think, opening my medicine cabinet and grabbing my bottle of extra-strength Excedrin. I pop two in my mouth. Swallow, hard. Then make my way over to my desk, plopping down in my chair. I pull out my cell, scroll through my address book, then dial.

  “Hey, Miss Pasha, girl.”

  “Hey, girl,” I say, mindful to not call her Big Booty since I can’t ever remember her name. “Felecia told me you wanted me to call you.” I hold my breath.

  “Yeah, I wanted to let you know that I ain’t forget about tracking that nigga down for you.”

  “Oh, girl, don’t even worry about that. Like I told Felecia, let that shit go. The nigga can’t block my flow. I’m still standing, still making moves, so fuck his bitch-ass.”

  “Oh, I know that’s right. But, still…that disrespectful nigga needs to be handled for how he came at you. I got my goonies on alert. And when we figure out who the fuck he is, and where he rest at, he’s gonna get got.”

  “Listen, chile. Don’t. Just leave it alone, please. I don’t want you or anyone else getting caught up in shit that ain’t that serious. I appreciate you having my back, though. But please, drop it…”

  “Are you sure?” she asks.

  “Yes, very. It’s done and over with.”

  “Well, okay, then. It’s dropped—for now. But, if the nigga comes through again…”

  “Then his ass is gonna get lit the fuck up,” I finish for her.

  “That’s right. We gonna pop that ass like a firecracker. Oh, wait…Day’Asia, get yo’ sneaky ass back up them goddamn steps fo’ I beat the dust off ya black ass,” she snaps in my ear, talking to her fourteen-year-old daughter who is almost as wild as she is. “I don’t give a shit what that nigga said, I said take yo’ ass…Bitch, did you hear what I said…girl, I gotta go, this little nappy-headed heifer tryna raise up on me like her pussy’s bigger than mine…”

  “Go…” the line went dead. I sigh, looking up from my desk. Felecia is standing in the doorway, leaning up against the frame with her arms folded.

  She tilts her head. “Is there something going on?”

  “Not at all,” I say, matching her stare. “Why you ask that?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know; something doesn’t seem right. Too much strange shit’s been poppin’ off all at once. That one nigga callin’ here back to back, then another nigga comin’ up in here wit’ dumb shit…” she pauses. Takes me in for a few seconds, then adds, “But I tell you what. I’ma leave it alone.” She turns on her heels and walks off toward the front of the shop, leaving me sitting here feeling like the walls are closing in on me.

  FIFTEEN

  The minute I log online, IM screens start popping up. Some of the screen names I’m familiar with; some I’m not. Most of them I ignore. Others I give very brief replies to, then click out of. I grin, shaking my head, when a screen comes up for Mr. Seven-And-A-Half.

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: Hey, Beautiful. How u?

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: Hey 2 u 2. I’m doing well, thanks. And u?

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: Horny

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: LMBAO. Why I think u stay horny?

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: LOL. No doubt

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: where’s wifey?

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: OOT

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: OOT? What’s that?

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: Out of town

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: Oh

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: U busy?

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: not really. Why?

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: I wanna c u. U down?

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: I am. But

  I take a deep sigh. Try to decide if seeing him is really a good idea. I swear this nigga is fine as hell, but damn it…I’ve sucked him twice, already. So technically, I could go another round with him since three
rounds is my max. Lord knows his dick is… tasty! No, fucking delicious is more like it. Mmmph. And those heavy-ass balls of his are delightful. Another round for the road won’t hurt. Will it? Bitch, leave this shit alone. Tell him no.

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: But?

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: I don’t want u getting strung out

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: 2 late!

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: Poor u! Let me find out u a nut on the loose

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: LOL. Never that, baby. Ur screen name gets my dick hard

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: So u want me 2 suck that shit for u?

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: All night!

  Instead of taking heed to the voice in my head, telling me to dead this—now, I start to rationalize my thinking. If I throat him this last time, I can get this out of my system—now, instead of posting another ad.

  Besides, this nigga does have some good dick. And that nut…oh Lord…yes, I let him bust in my mouth, and I swallowed him. And it was good to the last damn drop! It had been so long since I actually ate a nut out of a dick. But he had earned that extra treat. The way he ate my pussy the last time I was with him, he was the first nigga I actually contemplated giving some pussy to. Thank God I’m grounded. Otherwise I would have been bouncing up and down on his cock with no thought or regard for Jasper or my promise to him. I know in my heart what I need to do, what I’m supposed to do. But the freak in me overturns any rational decision of doing what’s right. I take in a deep breath as I type.

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: When and where?

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: Same spot. 8?

  DEEPTHROATDIVA: Cool. C U then!

  THICKSEVEN-AND-A-HALF4U: Bet

  I close out the screen, then begin opening emails. There are several emails from niggas responding to last week’s ad posting. Most of them I delete. A few I read. Hello. I can definitely use some nice slow, wet head. I’m actually looking for someone to cum over and lick my girlfriend’s pussy juice off my cock. I fucked her this morning and still smell of her, and assume taste of her, too. 6 feet, 180, and seven cut here. I can host.

  I frown. What the fuck?! Delete.

  I move on to the next email. You: Just what I need! Me: 5ft10in 32years old brown hair/blue eyes, 180 lbs white guy with a lady back home but a hard dick here in need of some no-strings dick sucking. Always wanted to try a sexy, black woman.

  I delete as I glance at the clock over on the nightstand. It reads: 6:23 P.M. I make a mental note to log off in another ten minutes so I can get ready to wet down Mr. Seven-And-A-Half’s dick. I decide to open two more emails, then delete the other eight.

  Hello. Can you handle a cock over 8 inches? It’s pretty thick, too. Nice guy with a big cock looking for head. And if we click, I’ll eat your pussy and ass, or fuck you good. Prefer sweet, wet, hairy pussy.

  I sigh, realizing stupid is what stupid does. And a lot of these motherfuckers are about as stupid as they come. I type: Hello, 8 inches? Baby, that’s a snack for a deep throat diva like me. What are your stats? Pic of the cock, please.

  I open the next email. Hello. Are you still looking for a dick to suck? I’m always looking for a warm, wet mouth. Would love to get sucked off tonight and feed you a sweet load of cum. Mutual oral is cool, too. Love eating black pussy. 42, five-nine, one-ninety; 7 cut med-thick and meaty full balls that like to get worked over. Let me know if you’re still looking and interested. Thanks!

  I delete, then log off. I remove my clothes, tossing them on the bed before walking into the bathroom to take a quick shower. I quickly shower, wrap myself in a plush towel, then oil my body with Vaseline Cocoa Butter. I stand in front of my mirror, gliding my hands over my body. My skin is smooth and silky. I allow my hands to wander over my firm breasts, over my flat stomach, then back up to my breasts, lightly pinching my nipples. They are the size of gumdrops; erect and eager for a tongue swirling over them, hungry for a mouth to devour them.

  I slip into a faded denim skirt, then put on a denim jacket over a tangerine camisole. I fasten the last four buttons on the jacket, leaving the first two undone—showing off my ample cleavage. I slide my feet into a pair of orange Gucci stilettos, grab my hobo bag and keys, then head downstairs for the door. Just as I’m about to turn the knob to walk out, the house phone rings. Instead of ignoring it, I turn around and head to the kitchen to check the wall phone’s caller ID to see who’s calling. As luck would have it, it’s Jasper.

  “Helllllooo,” I answer, trying to sound half asleep.

  “Yo, baby,” he says over the noise in the background. “Sounds like you were sleepin’.”

  “I was,” I lie, sitting my bag on top of the counter.

  “What you doin’ home so early, anyway?”

  “I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Damn, what’s wrong?”

  “Cramps,” I say, shocked at how quickly the lies roll off my tongue. In all the years Jasper and I have been together, I’ve never felt the need to lie to him about anything—until now. I glance at my watch. It’s already a quarter to eight. “And I have a terrible headache.”

  “Damn, baby. What’d you eat today?”

  “I had a tuna salad earlier.” He asks if I think that might have made me sick. I tell him no. Tell him my period is about to come on. That I feel achy all over.

  “See, baby, that’s why I gotta hurry up and get the fuck home. You need Daddy there to take care of you.”

  “Awwww, I know. I wish you were here now. I need my back rubbed.”

  “Baby, ya man’s ’bout to rub a whole lot more than that.”

  “I can’t wait.” I let out a low groan, glancing at my watch. I need to get going.

  “Listen, baby…I’ma let you get back to sleep, aiight?”

  “Okay. Are you okay?”

  “Oh, no doubt. I’m good, baby—real good. I’ma go on back and beat this hard-ass dick.”

  “You so nasty,” I say, chuckling.

  “Yeah, I’m nasty for you. I want some pussy.”

  “And this pussy wants you,” I say, moaning. Talking to Jasper, hearing his voice, has only escalated my horniness, and has made me that more eager to rush over to the Marriott to get this pussy sucked and licked on—and, yes, gobble down on some cock.

  “Getting home to you, and getting up in that pussy—making love to my baby—is all I think about, feel me? You got ya man sprung.”

  OhmyGod, what he says pulls at my heart.

  “Jasper, baby, you coming home is all I think about as well. It’s almost over.”

  “No doubt, baby. Look, go on back to sleep. Feel better. I’ll hit you up in the mornin’, aiight?”

  “Okay, thanks. I love you.”

  “I love you, too—for life.” On that note, we hang up, and I quickly grab my shit and race for the door. For life, I repeat in my head. At the rate I’m going, I won’t have much life in me left if I don’t stop this madness. And stop it soon! But knowing this doesn’t keep me from cranking up my engine and peeling out of my driveway, heading toward some hard cock.

  By the time I pull up into the hotel parking lot, it’s already eight-thirty. I see Mister Seven’s truck as he flashes his lights. I pull up beside him and park. We both get out of our rides at the same time.

  “Hey, what’s good, beautiful? For a minute there, I thought you was gonna stand a brotha up.”

  “Never that,” I say without thinking. “Umm…I meant…definitely not. I got caught up in something that I had to handle first.”

  “Oh, I feel you,” he says, handing me the room key. “Everything aiight?”

  I nod. “Couldn’t be better. I hope you have a lot of energy stored up ’cause I am horny as hell tonight,” I warn him.

  “No doubt, baby. This dick is fully loaded and ready for you.”

  I smile. “See you upstairs.” I walk off, popping my hips toward the hotel entrance.

  As before, the minute he steps into the room, I attack him. Tugging at his belt, then yanking his jeans down to his ankles.
I massage his meaty dick over his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Suck him over the fabric until he thickens.

  He grabs me by the head. “Damn, baby. You know how to make this dick feel good. You don’t even have my dick in your mouth yet and you already got me wanting to bust. Shit, girl. You can get a nigga in trouble.”

  I remove my mouth from his growing bulge, replacing it with my hand. I knead his dick in his underwear, glancing up at him, grinning and eyeing him all sexy-like. “Baby, I’m not here to get you in trouble. I’m here to make you feel good, and get that nut out of this fat-ass dick.”

  “You got me hornier than a muhfucka. I wanna put this dick up in you tonight. You gonna let a nigga make love to you?”

  I keep my hand locked on his cock, stroking him as I stand up. I gaze into his eyes. “I can’t. But we can sixty-nine all night and you can fuck my throat as deep as you want.”

  He stares at me. I can tell this nigga digs me. And truth be told, I don’t blame him. But it’s not me—the woman, he is feeling. It’s this throat and tongue he’s enthralled with. He pulls me into him, grabs and squeezes my ass, then catches me totally off guard by leaning down and kissing me. At first a quick peck, then it becomes a lingering kiss with all lips, then evolves into a passionate tongue-probing kiss. And the fucked-up thing is, I don’t resist, don’t pull away, don’t do shit to keep this from turning into more than what it’s supposed to. Kissing has always been off limits. It’s too personal, for me. Well, okay, it isn’t any more personal than sucking a nigga’s dick, and then swallowing his load.

  I finally pull back, placing my hand up against his hard chest. “We better stop before this ends up somewhere else. So let’s stick to the script and let me suck on this dick. That’s what you’re here for, right?”

  “Most definitely, baby. But, I can’t get ya sexy ass out of my head. I’ll be with my girl ’n shit, got my dick all up in her and you start popping up in my head. Those lips, the way your twirl your tongue around my dick, the way you suck my balls—I can see all that shit. I close my eyes, fucking my girl, and see you down on your knees handling this dick.”