The Quickie Chronicles - Christmas Eve

Twas the night before Christmas, and we were all over the couch.
Grabbing, biting, licking and strange noises from her mouth.
Her stockings were torn, and draped over the chair,
But all I was focused on was her breasts and long hair.


The children weren't home, so we used their bunk-beds,
Soaked X-Men sheets, as we avoided bumping heads.
Rolling onto the floor, pressing my front against her back,
The golden arch appeared, and I gave her ass a smack.


From the lips of my wife arouse such a joyous noise,
I pumped a little harder, knowing there was no need for sex toys.
Dripping and swollen, Eve crawled into the hallway.
Fiercely looking back, she ordered, "Bring that dick this way."


In the doorway of our room, Eve squatted and rubbed her clit.
The smirk on her face let me know where she wanted to sit.
Eve moaned and groaned, as I nibbled on her ear,
Licking my lips, I said, "Put that pussy right here."


Eve rode my face, while I just slurped and kept her moving.
Swirling her hips around, she knew what she was doing.
As Eve moved faster, my tongue thrashed against her bell,
And as I sucked on her lips, I knew she would yell...


"Oh shit! Like that! Bite and suck on that shit!
Right there! Yes, Gawd! You betta put your whole face in it!
Yes! Oh, yes! Use your nose and your thumb!
YES! YES! USHUIWDHIU!!! I'm about to CUM!!"


And then, in a flash, my beard wound up quite sticky.
Eve fell back on the bed, and complained of being dizzy.
I sat up besides her, and stretched out my neck,
But before I could get up, she said, "We're not done yet."


She pushed me back down, and went straight to her work.
Grabbing my dick with her right hand, she started to jerk.
Placing her lips on my length, Eve sucked and licked it well.
The nastier she got, the more my pride began to swell.


Eve gagged and gurgled, as her mouth did its job.
Up and down, I just watched her head bob.
Wiping her mouth, she moved so our faces met.
She exclaimed, "Now let's get that dick super wet."


I grabbed her hips, and slid inside of her.
Eve hissed, as the lines of reality started to blur.
The collisions between our bodies were catastrophic,
But when she choked me, I knew I was deep in the pocket.


As the end drew nearer, the intensity increased.
We locked eyes and simultaneously released.
Eve laid her head on my chest, as I held her tight.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all....GOOD night!

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit Part 33

On Cuffing Season…

Don’t wear your cuffs too tight, you might actually think this is real life.

Let’s face it, we’ve all been there. This time of year, last year or the year before, you were unknowingly or knowingly entering into cuffing season drafts. You were maybe even first round draft. Maybe you were wined and dined. Maybe you just chilled and dreamed that things were going somewhere because your coach was that good. Maybe you were fourth strain and the coach had you playing the field as though you were an official starter. Any way you choose to slice the reality of the situation, cuffing leaves an after taste, burns like Listerine mouth wash. Sure, cuffing season isn’t all bad, but if you’re the one saying that, chances are you’re the one doing the cuffing.

I feel like our culture only places importance or relevance on things if it gains popularity. Maybe cuffing used to be disguised as asking out to a dance, going out to social parties in the fall or watching movies together as frequently as possible. I just don't understand how our culture transformed from asking someone out for the purposes intended verses building up a temporary facade for our selfish gain. It’s the ride of the season that has “cuffers” and willing seekers of being cuffed so excited for the possibilities. It’s the anticipation of “what ifs” and “dream selling” that excites the poor souls being drafted or willingly falling into a game that the two people involved shouldn’t be playing, at least in my opinion, if it has no intention on building something tangible.

Games. How unfortunate that we look forward to a time of year to play games with the very component of our beings?  We play the game with made up feelings, making the cuffers and cuff draft picks feel special, different and then we make them feel appreciated until… The end of the season rolls around and you realize that you’ve stayed in your role a little too long, played your part a little too well and wondering what exactly the purpose of real life is. The trees are gaining their color again and your whimsical heart just met the unhappy ending of your pink draft season slip.

Let’s be clear, before you call this, the “Aww, who hurt you?” post, let’s not pretend that you haven’t been the cuffed or the one doing the cuffing. Before one can place cuffs, admit that you were dogged and served up that real life hurt from being cuffed. You don’t have to admit it publicly, but let’s be honest with ourselves and admit that it happened, you got done your issue, and now you’re giving it to others. Maybe you naturally fell into the role because you’ve been a player your whole life, right; it’s something you’re naturally good at? Maybe you were Bambi caught up. Maybe you thought you had something to prove and entered the draft because you were a bad ass. Who knows? Everyone has their own agenda and frame of reference, and that is just where we all are in life.

Why is it that we live in a generation where a beautiful lie gains your respect? Is it because you refuse to accept the very part of ourselves that said, “Don’t be stupid,” but we were just too eager to see what awaited us behind the door? If lies are so beautiful and comfortable that it helps us stay warm and cozy while being wrapped up in the season, I want you to picture how ugly and cold the truth is of our hideous actions. How I see it, we pray on the things that remind us of ourselves that we were too ignorant to change. The person doing the cuffing recognizes something of themselves in their cuff pick. They take on that unique spark to maybe energize that cold, dark place that love used to live. They feed off of that energy and develop plays to attain it. Not only do they make the plans to get that spark, but they find themselves (not very often) feeling like you bring something special to their lives. The truth is, the cuffer (person seeking out those to be cuffed, the coach per se) is unable to give or give you anything of importance because they are empty. Just like their promises to treat you in ways you thought were just for you, some other chick or guy is getting the same if not more on their playground.

Games. Seriously, people don’t get enough of the phone, computer, gaming systems and board games. The next thing is to play with the most valuable piece of our very being, and that is the heart.  The thing about recognizing everything as it really exists is the ability to see through people and their methods once you have experienced the trenches. I am a misfit and I can honestly say I have never cuffed anyone, but you can either relate or turn on the light bulb as to what it is like to have a heart broken because you were possibly lost in a cuffing affair. I can see the ugly truth in this season to know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and my beauty lies in loving me more than building up a fantastic lie about someone who can only care for my heart (excuse me, the better term these days is attention or thirst an emotions) 3-6 months at a time. Stay woke friends. I hope everyone uses their heart, eh thirst, scars and truths to build each other up and not play with each other’s precious time and feelings. Life is as real as the blood flowing through your veins. If you love someone, say it. If you simply want to screw them, and they agree, do that. But don’t be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Yes, it does get cold, it feels a bit lonelier in the winter, but I can cuddle up with a clear conscious, pure heart and unyielding love for myself and the time to wait for the real deal and not a game. Nothing feels better than an honest spirit, warm arms ready to hold and a heart willingly to love someone who only wants to do the same with mine, every month of the year. 

Have a safe cuffing season.

May the cuffs ever be in your favor.

My Meadow

Why. Why did you take my grassy green away. Why couldn't she bless this lovely world with her presence. What did I do so awful that I didn't deserve a sister. My Meadow. Why. Its not fair.

Ever been so excited for something  and then its ripped right from your grasp.

Sophomore year. 1st class of the day. Econ. Phone rings. "Mom". Why would she be calling me, she know I'm in class. I answer. "Blah blah blah, I'm pregnant". That was the only relevant part of the conversation. Cant tell anyone. Due in March. Will be showing for thanksgiving. Baby stuff to get. Hopefully a girl. Choosing names. Meadow. That's gonna be her name. Kinda weird but it grows on me. Then one day I'm told the baby is gone. She lost it. Stress. Stupid ass abusive husband. And sucky ass me for being in ohio while she is alone in Baltimore.

No more baby????????

What the hell

March comes and goes and no new addition to my family. No baby clothes all over my room. No bottles cluttering the sink. No carseat in my car. This isn't how it was supposed to be. 2 && 1/2 years later and I still miss her. Miss the pitterpatter I would/should hear around the house. Miss the making of bottles. The tiny clothes. The smell of baby powder. I miss it all.

I catch myself wondering if that really was for the best. What my life would be like now if she was really here. And sometimes I just hate life for taking my baby away. My baby sister. My Meadow.

I miss you sis! Maybe in the next life. I love you! RIP MEADOW!!

The Quickie Chronicles - Studio

"Lie down!" I said forcefully through a giggle.  He just stood there and stared at me like I was crazy.  Standing underneath the black light he looked 12 times better than Adonis.  My eyes gazed lustfully at his body, stopping at the glow in the dark condom.  I began to giggle again.

"What did you do with my clothes? I'm leaving."  I've made him angry.  He doesn't yet understand the game I want to play.  He doesn't understand why every light in my studio apartment now gives the eerie glow of a black light, why all my furniture is moved and covered with tarp, why there are unopened cans of paint, why there's a large piece of canvas on the floor...

"Chill out.  You're gonna have lots of fun in a few" I say as I begin popping open the paint cans.  Within in minutes, the paint begins to glow in neon shades.  I strip.

I dipped my hands in the green and blue paints then walk up to him.  I leave hand prints on his chest and colorful streaks down each arm to his hands.  I pull him towards me, onto the canvas, and allow my knees to buckle so that we both fall onto it.  With paint now smeared on me, I roll on top of him.  I dip my hands in two new colors and work my way down his body.  I stop at his thighs.

"Are you gonna get dirty too?" he asks.  "Only if you make me that way," I reply.  And just like that, the paint war begin.  We tackle each other trying to get our hands in the paint and then trying to get the paint on each other.  Our bodies roll across the canvas leaving prints of every body part imaginable.  I'm starting to wonder if this paint is non toxic because of the places it's getting into.

When the teasing of our bodies rolling against each other becomes too much of a tease for me, I took off the condom.  He looks at me, slightly alarmed, but I think he finally gets its purpose.  I cover his non paint covered member with my mouth.  Trails of spit trickled down my chin and his balls and I continued to bob up and down on his dick.  Just as I feel him to stiffen and strain in my mouth I stop.

I would lick every part of his body but he's covered in paint.  I just go to his mouth and straddle him.  I ease down on his hardness and begin to bounce slowly.  He rolls me over into our painted mess and pins my hands above my head.  He makes slow deliberate strokes as I squirm beneath him.  I arch my pelvis to meet every thrust as he speeds up.  My back arches up violent as his thrusts become and deeper, harder and faster.  I bit my bottom lip to resist biting his paint covered shoulder.  My fingers slide in the paint on his back as I try to dig my nails into something...

Naked, and covered in drying paint, we looked down on our masterpiece.  Sections distinctly telling the story of the tryst we just shared.  If only I had someone photographing the whole things....

The Quickie Chronicles: Rain on Me

This is a sorta kinda maybe sequel to "quickie chronicles trenchcoat" if you haven't read that, go make yourself useful! 

She think she so slick, I think to myself as I watch Aubrey switch her naked ass to the bathroom. I'm sittin at the kitchen table with my pants around my ankles sipping a corona. I hear the water turn on and I can't help but picture the water running down her high yella body. Making her drippin wet. 

"Ian!" She calls. 

"Whatsup babe?" I say as I make my way to the bathroom. I smirk, cause I already know what she want. She want some more. She never tired. That's one of the things I love about being with her. 

"I need you to wash my back baby!" She says. 

"Is that so?" When I walk in the bathroom the the only thing lighting the room are the candles she has lit. I don't even know when she had the time to do that. All I can do is smile as I walk toward the shower. When I step in, the water cascades down her and splatters on me. She turns around and faces me and smiles. That smile alone puts my dick on solid. She looks down and smirks. I grab her arms, pull her towards me and kiss her. Softly. Deeply. Intensely. Kissed her like I missed her while I was away. 

"You really want me to wash your back?" I ask with a smirk. She just looks at me, squats in the shower and takes me in her mouth. The water is running over me and splashing on her. Her is wet. But none of it seems to be effecting her. She continues to suck on me. Slowly teasing me with her tongue. Her tongue runs up and down my length. Flickering across my tip tasting every bit of precum. Unconsciously I begin to stroke her face inching my dick deeper and deeper in her throat with each thrust. She's moaning and the vibration in her throat is driving me crazy. 

I lift her off the ground and put her against the wall of the shower. She wraps her legs around my waist and I thrust into her. With the water running down my back. The steam in the bathroom. The flicker of the candle. Everything is making this moment with her that much more intense. I'm slamming into her. And she is screaming my name. If this wall was made of glass it would have broken already. I can't tell if the drippin down my leg is from the water  in the shower or her juices. I'm grippin her ass as the wall holds her up. Her legs are squeezing me tighter and tighter. I know she is about to release all her sweetness and I stroke harder and faster wanting us to cum together. With one last deep stroke she moans in my ear and I say her name. We slide to the floor of the shower still entangled together as one. And let the water wash all the juices away. 

Random Thoughts 1

So before I get into this beware this is just an internal struggle and I wanted to voice it. 

So here goes. There's two guys right now. And idk which one i like better. I'm not good at this talkin to more than one person at once thing but it's happening. Also keep in mind neither of them have mentioned makin this more serious I'm just thinking ahead cause that's what I do. Anyway...

Guy 1:  

A little bit younger. 

Lives far 6 hours away

No car

No job

In college 

Horrible textin buddy

Can be sweet 

Great sex game

Amazing head game

Has fucked and dated a close friend

Smokes hella weed

Funny af tho

When we are together things are awesome 

Parents don't like him; vice versa

Brothers like him 

Pretty flirty 

Got trust issues

Lives at home  

Acts like if I lived near him we would be together 

Guy 2:

Job

College degree 

Lives 14 hours away 

Not the best texter; but when we do it's a natural conversation 

Doesn't like to talk on the phone 

Sorta kinda a flirt 

Parents would be impressed

Has a car

Lives at home 

Not even sure what we are "doing" 

Funny

So all of the above is a compiled list of things---good && bad-- about said boys. I'm sure I'm missin stuff. And if I have it for one and not the other it's cause it hasn't happened with one of em. I just don't know. I've put more into guy 1 but that doesn't mean I should pursue him more. 

And in a way this could all be for nothing cause at this point both of these relationships only extend to us "talkin" bein "best friends" or whatever you call it. 

I'm not quite sure my purpose of this entry, but here it is. 

And clearly this isn't the first post that wa random thoughts but I just decided to make this it's own...title? Category? Whatever you wanna call it. Fellow misfits do the same if you make an entry with just thoughts that's not quite an adventure of a misfit. 

Deuces!

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit Part 32.1

Yessssssssss!!! 

Let me first start by saying I'm bored on this stupid bus cause I refuse to pay parking and I finished my book and my fellow misfits usually give me something interesting to read. So here we go...

Anyway, I totally agree with my fellow misfit. Our fuckin society is full of people who judge based off past experiences, and I too am fuckin tired of it. 

Ya know I get that your ex hurt you. She cheated. Or lied. Or played with your feelings. I totally get. I'VE BEEN THERE. But tht doesn't mean that you should instantly be putting the next person that try with you down and under all this suspicion. Believe it or not there are still people out here who are real and wan the same things you do. 

I'm tired of hearing I don't trust you because my last girl [guy] broke my heart. I AIN'T HER [him]. Don't compare me to her/him. 

It's really hard to try and show someone I'm down for them if they expecting or waitin for me to show signs of what the last one did. Ok so s/he would stop textin you when they was with someone else, just cause I don't respond right awy doesn't automatically mean im creeping. I work muhfucka. I be busy. Much to popular belief I'm not ALWAYS lookin at my damn phone. And just cause I'm textin you while Im workin don't mean that somethin won't start at work that means I can't respond as quickly. 

Stop lookin for excuses to leave or stop talkin or to be mad at me. If you can't do that maybe you need to take some personal time and get ya life right. 

And for those who know me, I'll be the first to tell you I don't trust muhfuckas. But that's in general. And I don't let my lack of trust for the human population dictate how I act with, around or towards you. Just in my person I may not express everything. I may not be willin to make things official quickly. But I still give you a fair chance. 

Can all of you muhfuckas say that too? 

#misfit out! 

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit 32

....On Preconceived Notions

I don't know how many times I have had to preach this sermon, but I stepping up to the pulpit to deliver this word yet again. 

STOP FEEDING INTO THESE PRECONCEIVED NOTIONS!!!

I know it's hard not to because we've been programmed to believe that if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck then...it's a duck. However that's not always the case. It might be a goose, or a swan. It may even be a machine. The point is many times things are not as they seem. A mirage of sorts. We go into situations taking things at face value not even trying to dig deeper or consider that it's a façade.

So let's just get into it. I've been holding this in for the better part of two weeks, by the way. I...AM NOT...a freakin...KITTEN! Sexually, that is or any other wise for that matter because I don't like cats. I am also not a person who openly displays their sexuality. I'm a real chill individual. I don't care for a lot of attention. I people watch...impassively, but with enough interest that I give off the wide eyed and bushy tailed vibe. So much so that people who fake know me ask if I'm a virgin even though I've busted that myth for them several times -- not physically, just to clarify. But, all of that is part of the intrigue. "I know I seem innocent not, but what happens when it's just us body to body? Are you ready and willing to find out?" My self code is to smile more than I talk to certain individuals. I figure people like surprises and even the person I've been dealing with most consistently is surprised because he forgets that there are two heads to this quarter. That works for me. That's my version of sexy. That's my cool.

How-muh fuggin-EVER!!! Stop being a fuck boy. If you have constantly been comparing and contrasting me to another bitch for most of the day, ain't no way Imma be on you hard up like that. Imma chill...in my quiet corner and read your ass for filth in my brain in an effort to save you from this wrath. Let's be VERY clear:

1. I don't look like that bitch.

2. I don't talk like that bitch.

3. I definitely don't smell like that bitch.

4. Matter of fact, I don't even like that bitch.

Therefore, don't make me do time for crimes that I have not committed...as if I'm that bitch! But since you are...your loss, friend. No whack reviews over here.

Do better, fuck boys. I know it's hard because you always in the midst of fuckshit and foolery, but give the better side of the grass a whirl.

Like I said, this has been brewing for about two weeks. I just had to get it out before it consumed me.

K, bye.

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit 31

...on Fruitvale Station and the Assasination of the Black Male

Let me just start by saying that I went back and forth about whether or not I wanted to see this movie. I knew it was really heavy and I'm the kind of girl who goes to movies as a pick me up, but I just felt really compelled to see it.

Before I get into the nitty gritty of it all I must give accolades to Forrest Whitaker who produced the film and to Michael B. Jordan (who better get his recognition come award season) and the rest of the cast of the film. It was amazing. It was raw and truthful and did an excellent job of making you feel as if you were a part of the world of the film. All of which were probably responsible for the emotions I felt at the end of the film.

I realize that not everyone has seen the film so I won't give any spoilers. I do encourage you all to see it though. Watching this film made me think of every brown man I know that has been wrongfully arrested, assaulted, and harassed by those whose job description is to "protect and serve." It reminds me of the way my chest closed up when my mom called me and told me that my brother had been stopped an handcuffed by the pigs while dropping his girlfriend off because he matched the description of a black male wearing a hoodie. It reminds me of the countless times that a good friend of mine has had to sit behind bars for doing nothing other than being a black man driving a black car. It reminds me of times where well educated, professional black men have recounted to me the ways they were profiled by the police.

I'm reminded of a coworker who declined the invite to see the film because she's a native of the Bay Area and lived this nightmare and was unable to go to work for 3 weeks because of the riots. I'm reminded of another coworker who says that her significant other's personality reminds her so much of the Oscar Grant portrayed in the film. I'm reminded of Trayvon Martin, Troy Davis, George Stinney, Bobby Hutton, Fred Hampton...the list could go on forever.

It is abundantly clear that the black man is public enemy #1 and we're living in a society where their value is placed on how many baskets or touchdowns they can make. If they can't manage to do that, society makes them free slaves who are robbed of every right that makes them free even after they are free. And if they somehow manage to dodge that bullet and become well educated contributors to this fucked up society, she will try to find ways to break him down and make him feel less than human. 

I don't know man...I guess my only question is: How do we stop America from eating its babies?

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit Part 30

-- #BenWaDiaries - Entry B

I don't even remember what I said in the last one of these....

I'll keep this one short and sweet.

5 Things You Should Know About Your Balls...

1. Do not wear them to use the bathroom.  Push and them heauxs start to slide out.  Now this can be an excellent exercise, push the out then suck them back in.... but it just feels so strange.  I wouldn't suggest it.
2. Now if your balls happen to have the inner ball, please be careful how you move.  Riding around in a vehicle on the bumpy ass streets of New Orleans will have your vagina lit up like a bonfire and wetter than the Mississippi.  If you have no plans of getting any, do NOT do this.
3. I already have crazy sex dreams.  Wearing this balls to sleep seems to intensify that.  I had sex with like 5 people the last time.  They just kept morphing into the next person.  It was worse that watching the Power Rangers.
4. I don't think I could ever talk about sex toy maintenance enough.  Clean them bitches.  Soap and warm water.  Dry them well and store them in a place where they can air dry all the way.  If you want mildew in your snatch that's on you...
5. Be aware of the strengthening of you muscles because of the balls.  If yours are tethered together, like mine, but them in and apply pressure to the string hanging out.  Kinda have a tug of war with your vagine.  Thank me later.

Short and sweet.  I'll let you know if I learn anything different.  I do believe it's almost time for me to get a smaller set of balls.  Oh the debauchery... 

Misfit. Out.

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit Part 29

[this was originally written about 2 weeks ago...]

-- On being an educator

Now don't feel excluded because you've never worked in a school/academic setting. This is a #Misfit post. We don't think logically.

This post is for anyone who has ever spent time working in a school (in any capacity), mentoring youth in their community/church, raising offspring of your own...any type of extended periods of time spent with small people.

In light of recent events, the Martin trail, the 6 year old girl being found in a trash can, that grown ass adult killing a kid over a frozen cup.... I find it harder to do my job. I don't like it when real life and my life intertwine.


Brief history on me -- I've spent the last 3 years of my life working with kids from birth to about 18 or maybe even older. I've witnessed the abuse of infants, family issues galoe, kids with kids, kids raising younger siblings, kids working to support their family, ankle bracelets, every learning disability under the sun, kids in the foster system, students who lost their teacher to violent death, and worse of all, students who were shot or killed.


I don't like to teach. At all. But then I have to reexamine the meaning of the word teach. It goes so much further than being responsible for someone's academic gains. I'll be working with kindergarten this year and now I'm responsible for teaching kids things they will use forever: numbers, letters, how to use a pen, how to read....BUT I'll also be helping to, and being build their character, especially the "challenges" in my class.  Again, teaching is not purely academic...But, where I'm really going with this is that I have to teach these kids they are Black and what being Black in America means Black i New Orleans.

I don't feel comfortable teaching someone else's child about race.  I think that's something that should be taught at home, but clearly...

[I swear I'm going somewhere with this... or maybe not]

Here are my teaching goals for the year :

1. to teach my kids to strive for academic excellence no matter what.  Mostly perseverance. 
2. to teach my students mechanisms to cope with any "learning difficulties" they may experience.  What I've experienced is that some "special learners" are treated in different ways that do not enable them to learn but allows the teacher to teach with minimum disruptions.
3. to not enable "bad" behaviours in my students despite what other teachers are doing.
4. to make my students aware of challenges they may be face with because of their race without necessarily going in to race.
• Ex: "You'll be told this, that, and the third but you are this, that, and the third...."  [if that makes any sense...]

I'm a misfit.  I am an academic but non academic educator.  I may suck at letter sounds but my kids will be beast at self motivation and awareness and will not have any excuse for not being active learners and knowing their learning style.

This definitely not the last thing I have to say on the topic but it's def a good start to my school year....

The Quickie Chronicles - Trenchcoat

Hadn't seen her in weeks. I just got back in town from a work trip to Cali and my phone rings. Before i even pick it up i know its her because of the Body Party song playing on my phone. "Hey baby" she says as soon as i say "Hello". She tells me how bad she wants to see me and i tell her i missed her too, but i needed some rest and i would get with her tomorrow. she says "ok" and we end the convo. Not even 2 seconds after i put my phone on the nightstand then my doorbell rings. I walk to the door and when i open it Aubrey is standing there in a long black trenchcoat and her louboutins on. I just stare at her.

"Are you gonna let me inside?" she asks with a smirk. I move to the side and allow her to enter my apartment. "I was already here before you said you wanted to rest, and i figured i might as well atleast say hi since i came all this way" she states seductively as she begins to remove my tie. I grab the belt holding the coat closed and as soon as i loosen it the coat falls open and her perky d cup tits are staring back at me. Her freshly shaved pussy looks edible. before she can even completely unbutton my shirt i lift her in the air and wrap her legs around the back of my neck. Her pussy is right in my face. smelling sweet and lovely just like i remember. I grip her ass to make sure she is secure on my shoulders. my tongue goes to work. licking and slurping all on her. my tongue is flicking softly and quickly against her clit trying to make her love come down. im enjoying her like this is my last supper. as i continue to slurp all of her juices, being sure not to drip any on my shirt, i head to the kitchen. I place her gently on the counter and she finished removing my shirt, pants and boxers. My dick is on solid and pulsating as i look her sitting there sexy as hell in nothing but pumps.

 she hops down, walks to the fridge and grabs the can of whip cream that i keep in stock for moments like this. she walks back towards me, pushes me to sit in one of the kitchen chairs, kneels on the floor and uses the whip cream to draw a line from my neck, down my abs, and from the bottom of my shaft to the tip. she proceeds to sexily lick every drop of whip cream off my body ending with my dick. if i didnt know any better i would think that my dick was a lollipop and she was a candy addict. her tongue is doing swirls around my tip. she is allowing my dick to slowly fall in and out of her mouth. her pace is quickening and every time my dick pops out of her mouth, the sound it makes makes my dick that much harder. i see her playing with her clit as she continues to lick my dick from the bottom to the top. when she reaches the top again she lets my dick enter her warm, wet mouth as far as it will go. my 8 inch dick is almost invisible in her mouth. before i know it im releasing my seed all in her mouth.

as soon as the last drop of cum falls on her tongue i lift her off the ground and place her on my lap. with her lips on mine, my dick in her warmth wetness, she lifts her feet to rest on my knees. this angle is different and feeling great. im gripping her ass and she bouncing on my dick like we in a bouncy house. i feel her drippin her sweet juices on my legs. she drops her legs, puts them on the back of the chair and leans back. she continues to thrust into me while i stroke back.

before i bust again i pick her up carry her back to the counter and put her on her stomach with her legs hangin off the side. i slip inside and she wraps her legs around me. i start pounding and driving inside her pussy. she moaning and saying my name. im smackin her ass with one hand while the other hair pulls on her natural afro. "Ian, Ian, Ian" she keeps saying over and over again. I dig deeper and stroke slower until i feel my dick pulsating and know its bout to be over. i speed up and proceed to release my seed inside her.

When i pull out, her cream is all over my dick. i pick her up off the counter and place her on the floor again. she squats and licks all her cream, juices and my cum off my dick. when there is no trace of the fuckin we just did left she stands up, and starts walking toward the shower. "Hey Aubrey," i yell, she turns around, "I love the trenchcoat!"

blah blah blah

I must warn you, this will be a rant...dig in

So my issue, or the one buggin me the most at the moment concerns a boy--what else is new right..? anyway said boy is plucking my nerves and just making me crazy. and i guess technically he isnt really doing anything wrong perhaps...but he isnt really doing anything, and that's the problem. ya see i over think shit. alot! i also have trust issues. but nowadays who doesnt. anywho with all of these things working against me the smallest things makes me suspicious and quite aware. so this is the situation:

April
kinda sorta maybe randomly had sex with a guy. i intended for it to just be a fun time of sex while he was around. he decides to fall in like and make these feelings known. spending lots of time together, my dumbass falls in like too.--now if you read my other post you wil recall the best friend issues, this is the same guy--we still kickin it, and in my opinion things are moving in the right direction. im ready for the real fall. im ready for someone to catch me and never put me back down. and i think this could be the catcher for me

May
things are still going well but it is time for him to return to his regular life, thus placing us 300ish miles apart. once he is gone, we still talk everyday. have good convo. tell each other we miss each other. ya know all that mushy shit. but as time continues to go by convos are becoming shorter. he begins to disappear. i see small flirting on twitter with girls that arent me. he still is claiming that the feelings are there and that we are working to see where this can go

June
i go visit. things are great. just like before he left. we hang out almost everyday im in town. he is being mushy and acting all cutesy. if you didnt know any better you would think we were in a relationship. he gets a little jealous/territorial whatever you wana call it. but im happy. he even tells me that if we didnt live so far apart he would have been wifed me up. nice right? wrong..you dont tell a girl that the only reason you arent with her is because of distance and then as soon as she is gone start acting all weird again. reading my texts and then not responding. disappearing. fliritng. not ever seeming like you actually wanna talk to me. rarely texting me first. no more cute good morning texts. shit is no longer the same, but somehow i am supposeed to believe that if we lived closer together we would be together? and i would be able to trust you?

July
so im still having all those reservations and dealing with the same emotional issues. and ofcourse, me being me i bring them up. still claiming that he wants to see where this goes and is still interested and blah blah blah. but idk if i should trust it. should i keep puttin in effort to talk? he is just testing me? or is he just playing me? fuck me i have no clue. i hate the guessing game. but idk what to do.

i guess the purpose of this rant was for some input. advice. comments. anything. im kinda stubborn so i may not take all of it to heart and do what you say but i would like to hear what you got to say anyway. fellow #misfits help a girl out!

misfit out!

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit - Part 28

....On Honesty

Let's face it. At some point in our lives, we've told a lie, or we will have to fib a little. We've lied to our parents about where we've been. Lied to our teachers about why we didn't turn in an assignment on time. I know we've all lied to a friend, knowing damn well that we didn't want to go somewhere / do something with them. I lied about my age to see Friday when it came out. Literally, I wasn't even 12yrs old, but I lied [in my deepest manly voice] and told the cashier that I was 17. My point is, we all do it. It could be because we want something, or because we're trying to avoid something / someone. It sucks, but it happens.

Keeping with this ideal, a white lie here and there won't necessarily diminish your character, or have you burned at the stake. However, habitual lies are just uncalled for. I'm amazed at how creative a habitual liar can be. The stories they craft could win awards, but I think their memory is what has me captivated. Not only do they have to remember the lie, they have to remember which portions they've told to which people. In fact, the lie becomes so elaborate, that the liar him/herself actually starts to believe it. That, my friends, is a good-ass liar. Ooooh!! What about people that flat out lie to your face?!?! Doesn't that just burn you up on the inside? Even when the truth matters, they'll force feed you a lie to save face....or to save you? Can there ever be a situation in which telling a lie is better than telling the truth?

Consider these two choices: an "ugly truth," or a "beautiful lie." Both have small traces of satisfaction and relief, but both choices leave something to be desired. I'm sure that each of us will immediately align ourselves with one of these choices, based on our previous life experiences. Our past certainly has a way of shaping our future decisions, you know? Anyway, you've already made your decision, so I will share mine with you now. I'm a Misfit, and although lying is completely eff'd up, I'd prefer a "beautiful lie," as opposed to an "ugly truth."

In typical Misfit fashion, the logic behind my choice is probably unconventional, but it's how I reached a decision, and that's what we're going with. I like to use real-life scenarios to get my point across, to try and reduce some of the bias from the situation.

Scenario #1: You, or let's say a loved one, has been admitted into the hospital. While there, several tests are performed, in hopes of diagnosing the issue. The results are in, the Doctor has determined that it's a rare and terminal brain disease. Would you prefer the Doctor to approach you and your loved one and say, "We've found the issue, and it's a rare and terminal brain disease. Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about it at this stage. It might be best to start getting your affairs in order. " OR would you rather the Doctor say, "We've found the issue, and it's a rare and terminal brain disease. Although the situation doesn't look very well, my staff and I will do all that we can to find a cure."

Scenario #2: You've fallen in strong like with someone. Sh*t, it happens to the best of us, right? Anyway, now that you're head over heels for this person, you quickly start to realize that those feelings aren't readily reciprocated. When you decide to question the person that has swept you off your feet, the awkward moment begins, and the explanation is on the launch pad. Would you prefer to hear, "You're a really great person, with an amazing personality. I just don't think that I'm the best person for you at this point in your life." OR would you rather hear, "You're just not my type. You're clingy, and that's that sh*t I don't like."

As you will notice, the "ugly truth" in both scenarios above lead to an absolute end. There's little room for interpretation, no room for an optimistic view. HOWEVER, with a "beautiful lie," one has hope...the opportunity to see the silver lining amongst the storm clouds. That is what people need these days. Hope. When presented with a garbage-ass spades hand, you can at least hope that your partner has the Big and Little Jokers, the Aces, or even the 2 of spades [because we all know that Deuces are wild....LOL]. Life's tough, but what makes it bearable is the notion that everything could possibly okay. 

That's the potential a "beautiful lie" provides. You don't want to hear that the man / woman of your dreams flat out doesn't want you. You'd much rather hear that maybe there's someone out there better suited for the amount of affection you're willing to devote. Sure, it might not be what you want to hear, but it could end off being what you ultimately need to hear. Our words have the potential to break someone's spirit, or to build someone's confidence. You make the decision....

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit Part 27

-- On self-worth/daddy issues/sex vs. love

This is gonna be a random vent.  I really don't know where to start or how much to say.

So I had a conversation with a #Misfit a while back about how comfortable our generation is with just fucking and how unnerving relationships can be. Why the fuck is that?  Beside the obvious reason.  Daddy issues.  Self esteem lower than than gas prices in '87.  Popular culture, if that can really take blame for anything (that's another topic).  Why is it that my body count lingers somewhere in the back of my head  (btw, that #Misfit on body count...heaux, I'm waiting), but the non-emotional attachment of just fucking these niggas is so alluring?  I know I deserve more than that and the simplicity I'm attaching to the act just isn't real...

Or is it?  I can accept that that's all someone may want from me.  But if you go trying to add anything else to the  equation I freak out.  Several things creep across my mind.  Why wouldn't someone even want more from me?  This shit ain't real.  Feelings aren't real.  Is it all just a game, a ploy to make it seem like you want more just to get it easier?  If so, the extra effort you're putting it just isn't worth it.  Or really even necessary.

But then, you have to question if the vibes you put out change someone's motives in trying to get to know you/fuck you/whatever.

This is far more complicated than I imagined.

You have to question how much of the angst, uncomfortablity (yes, I just made that word up) you've allowed to build up, for whatever reasons, is now stamped on your fucking forehead for everyone to see.  You're so-called vibes are being judged and people then have the right decide if they are willing to deal with what you bring for some.... whatever the fuck it is they are looking for.   You have to question how much of the emotional baggage you carry around is worth it.  You have to question the source of the pain, angst, bitterness.  You have to be willing to deal with it and make yourself feel better about yourself.

Next question,  while in this period of recovery do you allow yourself to open to/potentially open to/try to open up to/just fuck someone?  Does it hurt or help recovery?

Like bottom line, I know my issues.  And sometimes I choose to deal with them.  But for the most part there are some doors I don't want to open in fear of what I may find/know I will find.  Do I owe it to myself or to whoever I could potentially be with to deal with these issues first?  Do I use them to learn/gain life experience/mend some wounds/numb the pain?

This is beginning to create more questions than answers.  More of a plead for help than a rant.  So, I ask the #Misfits to lend a hand and help me solve this dilemma, or just open a document.

Signed,

Anonymous  

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit Part 26

On Instagram Videos...

Ok. So i must say that i am a social network person. I have facebook and twitter and IG. and once upon a time i had tagged, myspace, formspring, ya know when it was cool. But i am so disgusted with IG for adding videos. I intentionally avoided vine because i did not care to see videos muhfuckas thought should be made.

like why did IG do this? was it just to keep vine from gettin more people than they had? had they always intended to add videos? like wtf.

whatever the dumb ass reason is, i am now stuck seeing hella videos taking up my news feed. and ya know they are all lame. i havent seen not ONE IG video that was worth watching. niggas recording themself cookin, themself twerking, working out, acting a fool in public. like muhfuckas, i DO NOT FUCKIN CARE. if i wanted to see that shit i would get on youtube or turn on my damn tv.

so i am ranting because it annoys me. i know im not the only one tho. and i think IG was just bein salty bout vine gettin popular so they added some shit too, fuckers.

i think that was really all i had to say. #misfit out!

The Quickie Chronicles: The Way I Want It

The day had been great so far. We had spent the whole day in downtown Chicago exploring. Much needed quality time. We had finally reached the house and were laying down watching some dumb movie. I couldn't even tell you what was going on. But the next thing I know, he is grabbing my ass and nibbling on my ear. His tongue is gliding down my neck while one hand is caressing my ass and the other is cupping my boob. My boyshorts are slowly getting wet, and I am overcome with desire.

I manage to turn over to face him and plant soft, wet, deep kisses of yearning onto his lips. His hands seem to never leave there place on my body. My hands begin to wander over his abs, arms, back, whatever they can find until he takes his hand, covers mine and moves it down to the bulge in his basketball shorts. I look down and see that someone is getting excited. I begin to make a trail from his lips down his torso to meet the top of his shorts. I lick and tease his spot right above where his pubic hair starts, as i pull and tug and remove his shorts and boxers.

I allow his erection to slide into my warm wet mouth and take possession of it, as if nothing else ever belongs in my mouth. I slowly lick up and down his shaft. I leave a trail of my wetness from the tip all the way to his sensitive balls. As I reach the top again I allow only the head to enter my mouth completely. I begin to softly suckle and lick the head. He is making those soft whimpering and moaning sounds. It is driving me insane. While I continue to pleasure him with my mouth I begin to remove my clothes.

I guess he can't take it anymore because before I know it I am on my back and all my clothes have landed somewhere in the room. He slides down the bed and pulls me off the pillow. He lays on top of me and slowly thrusts himself inside of me. I gasp with pleasure and stare in his face. He leans down and plants soft kisses on my lips. With every stroke my nails dig deeper into his back. I am positive that his back will have all sorts of evidence on it by morning. He reaches under me and cups my ass and pushes himself deeper inside. He fills every empty space inside of me. I'm moaning and screaming so loud I am sure I have awakened the neighbors. His thrusts are so deep and well paced that I am unable to clearly articulate his name. My feet are on his chest and my knees are bent. He is all up in it and I'm telling him how much I love it. Several orgasms later, he cums with me. He rolls over and just stares at me. I smile and say, "you don't think I'm done are you" as I climb on top.

As squat on top of him I let his length slowly enter me. Taking him inch my inch and enjoying every bit of it. Once he is snug at home I begin to lightly bounce. I can feel my ass jiggling behind me. I hear his soft moans and grunts beneath me. I feel his hands attempting to grab my full round ass, but he is unable to complete the task. I'm bouncing and riding him like a cowgirl in Dallas, Texas. I hear the gushing, smacking sound of my juices every time I bounce up and down. I'm putting in work and showing him what he has been missing while I was away. A few more slow and deep bounces and I feel his erection stiffen inside of me, I know that he is about ready to blow. But I am still not finished with him yet.

I jump up, move to the edge of the bed and bend over. He stares and me and smirks, "oh that's the way you want it?" He struggles to get up but when he finally reaches me, he yanks my hair and thrusts into me. I'm still soaking and feel my juices sliding down my thigh. He hikes one of his legs up on the bed to get better leverage and begins to delve deeper inside. I am gripping the sheets and trying to pull whatever I can. His name is being screamed from my mouth. Moans are escaping. My back is arched and his thrusts are even and deep. I feel him in my gut. I'm creaming all over him and it is nonstop. Soon he meets me and releases himself deep inside. I collapse and he moves to lay on the bed. He pulls me up to cuddle with him. Moves my hair off my face and kisses me. I look up to him and say, "yea, that's the way I wanted it"!

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit Part 25

#BenWaDiaries - Entry A

So I just don't do #Misfit posts but I thought it would be fun to do a funny sub to the category on the things I love most.  All sex related, of course.

Before we even get started, let me learn yall about kegel exercises and Ben Wa balls.

Kegel exercises are exercises to strengthen the pelvic floor to enhance sexual experience, reduce the likelihood of incontinence, and reduce the risk of your uterus falling out. (Trust you don't wanna see pictures of that).

Ben Wa balls are two weighted balls [literally] of varying size and material that help enhance the benefits of kegel exercises.  They also bring increased pleasure during sexual intercourse or while bouncing or rocking on a solid surface.

Now to the point...

So I've been contemplating buying Ben Wa balls to expand my kegel exercise experience.  I wanted to make sure that I didn't get balls that are too small for starters.  I mean, I keep my ish together but it's not like I could use a ball that's small in diameter and heavily weighted and expect it to not fall out, she's not use to that.  I also wanted something that was easily cleaned and maybe tethered together on a string, just so they won't get lost in there.

Anyway, so I decided on a big silver pair, thinking they were metal and therefore non porus and easy to clean.  These bitches is plastic. I'm upset.  Oh well.  They are tethered together on a string, are big, and have inner balls that roll around for that extra umph.  I've had them on for about 20 minutes now.  After inserting them, with a little lube, I bent over and felt the inner balls move around.  I'm in for all kinds of trouble...

A few hours later, I decided to take them out.  I squoze on them to keep em in, to make em move, to make the lil ball inside them move.  I was pleased, and that pleasure coated...

*Clears throat*

This is just day one.  And just me sitting around and not doing shit.  Wait til I start moving and dancing and fucking with them in.  The tales I'll have to tell....

The Quickie Chronicles: Dreams Come True

I lay on the concrete writhing in pleasure from my fifth orgasm.  The sound of the water crashing against the rocks matched every flicker of his tongue.  I didn't know where we were headed next, what we would do next, all I knew is it wasn't yet over.

It all started with a simple reservation.  I checked dates and availability weeks in advance.  I knew he would find time for me.  I checked in one Friday evening with nothing but the clothes on my back and a clean pair of panties in my purse.  Check in was simple: drop my purse down the the guest bed and strip.

We started more traditionally.  Soft kisses on my neck, firm hands groping my ass.  Bites under breasts and on hipbones.  Hands wondering through pants and boxers.  Consistent twisting strokes.  Condom.  Missionary.  Legs over shoulders.  Echoing moans.  Deep, erotic whispers.  Orgasm one.

He slid onto the floor, still hard.  I just checked in.  I'm not even trying to be worn out yet.  I slid on the floor beside him, removing the slimy condom.  I replaced it with my mouth.  The lockjaw snuck up on me, and so did the post coital fatigue, but I fought on.  I swirled my tongue and sucked until endless possibilities coated my tongue and found their way down my throat.  I put on the "company issued" t-shirt and headed to the sofa for a nap.

I woke up to something on tv and two eyes staring at me from in between my legs.  He grabbed my feet and pushed them towards me.  I looked like I was about to give birth.  He took his time practicing his most intimate speeches on me.  The convulsions took over my legs and I was losing my control.  He didn't like that, he was suppose to have complete control, total domination.  Orgasm two was caught on the sofa, but the third was welcomed into the world with screams as I clung to the ceiling above the kitchen counter.  I sat on the counter for a few minutes trying to regain the feeling in my legs.  He came up, slapped my thigh, and told me it was time to move on to the next event.

We headed outside into the midnight air.  Tiptoed down the stairs.  Hopped the pool fence.  Stripped.  He jumped in.  I just stood at the edge of the pool, naked and weak legged.  I can't swim and I'm not even about to die bobbing for penis.  I sit on the edge of the shallow end and slipped in.  I wade gracefully until I'm about breast deep.  The coolness of the air and the wetness of nipples cause them to tingle.  He notices the change in my nipples, grabs me by the waist and shows them love.  They respond graciously to his touch, sending a throbbing sensation up my spine.  We float to a wall of the pool.  I push my back up against it graciously.  With my arms around his neck, I began nibbling gently on his shoulder as a response to my pleasure, and to not awaken the neighbors.  My legs float up in the water and find their way around his waist.  He takes this as an opportunity to invade my sacred space.  My bits become harder as his thrust become deeper.  I begin to claw as I bite, he tightens the vice grip he has on my ass.  Spreading it open so he can invade me even more deeply.  Orgasm four.

Wet, in every sense of the word, and delusional, we wonder our way to the lake.  I don't remember if we had to jump a fence, I think so.  I refuse to get any closer to that body of water than I already had so I sat on the concrete sidewalk.  He sat beside me.  I decided I wanted to see what I tasted like mixed with chlorine.  I began licking my juices off of him, slowly taking more and more of him into my mouth.  Somehow this becomes a challenge.  He pushes my head off his dick and lays me on the concrete.  He straddles my face and bends over, greeting the inside of my thighs.  He pulls my legs over onto his shoulders and devours me like a death row inmates last meal.  I try my hardest to keep up with him, neglecting his children as they trickle down my chin.  I lay on the concrete writhing in pleasure from my fifth orgasm.  The sound of the water crashing against the rocks matched every flicker of his tongue.  I didn't know where we were headed next, what we would do next, all I knew is it wasn't yet over.  Or so I thought.  I turned my face to the water and watched the sun rise and end my reservations.  Hopefully check out was at noon because I needed a nap.

So if you're ever near The ****** please make sure to see if there are any openings in reservations.  Remember their tag line.  It's where [Insert your name here]'s kitty dreams come true.

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit - Part 24

....On Father's Day

Now that we're in the shadows of holidays devoted to our parents, I'd like to cook a little, if you don't mind. I often wonder why there are special days for our parents, in which we're encouraged to go above and beyond our normal signs of affection / appreciation for the people that brought us into this world? To be honest, I wonder if the idea of having a Children's Day ever crossed the minds of the marketing geniuses that crafted holidays for the Mammy and Pappy? I guess with birthdays, Christmas, and basically every other day of the year, kids really have special holidays year round. Meh, back to the parents...

So, the 3rd Sundays of May and June have been designated to show love to our parental figures. We take them out to dinner, buy them cards and / or gifts, or just do a little something extra to show them that we care. HOWEVER, in this day and age of social media, it has become apparent that these special days designated for parent appreciation are bittersweet for some, and just plain bitter for a majority of us. Yes, we all know someone with a parent that has been less than supportive, or that has had no input to the lives of their child except for the 12min of intercourse that ultimately led to conception. Whatever the case is, it's put on display, and usually done without remorse....*stretches*

Dad. Daddy. Father. Pop. Paw. "That ni**a that nutted in my Mom." There are several titles we tend to give our paternal figures, all of which are evident on and around Father's Day. A variety of colorful tweets, Facebook status updates, Vine videos, and Instagram photos tell [ironic] stories about how awesome our Moms are, how some of our Dads are like God's gift to humanity, and how much of an "ain't sh*t ni**a" most of our Dads turned out to be. I usually find myself in the middle of this Venn diagram, trying to see which way I should lean to. 

Moreover, I usually just sit back and observe all of the positive and negative comments that surface around me. I see heroic tales about how someone's Dad used to scare away monsters from underneath the bed, and how one Dad sacrificed eating dinner 4 nights a week so that his kids would have a decent meal. I've read angry messages about how some Dads don't even acknowledge their kids, and I have even told the story about how my Dad left my Mom on my 4th birthday. BUT, after further review, I have reached this conclusion. I'm a Misfit, and despite the fact that my Dad has been absent / less than favorable in my eyes for the majority of my adult life, I still love my Father.

How? It's quite simple. I have old and new friends that are near and dear to me that have (a) Never had a relationship with their Fathers, (b) Had their Fathers pass away within the past 8 years, and (c) Never actually met their Fathers. I've had the honor...the blessing....the opportunity to know and grow up with my Father in my life. Although the role was limited, he has been no more than an [awkward] phone call or 20min drive from where I am. Who am I to bash or belittle him, when I have friends that would KILL just to have a few moments with their Dads. 

Yes, my anger and frustration is justified, and probably could be even worse, but I refuse to let it deter me from loving my Father. Each and every time we communicate, he pisses me off to the nth degree....but I can still talk to / see him. The guilt trip he leads me on is better than a trip to a grassy grave-site, right? I know he's stubborn, and due to his current medical state, is ready to die, but I can't and won't give up on him. He needs someone to fight for him, and after yesterday's conversation with him, it has to be me.

For the record, this isn't about the broken-relationship between your parents. This is between you and your Father. Leave your Mom out of this one. So, I'm saying this to all of you: While I understand that your Dads may not have been the best, you should attempt to be the bigger person in the "relationship." It won't be easy, and it damn sure won't be fun, but take it upon yourself to try and bridge the gap before it's too late. Tomorrow isn't promised for any of us, and I'd hate for any of us to be the ones that never got a chance to say "I forgive you, Dad." 

You don't have to ride bikes together, or go fishing, but a simple conversation to clear the air, and reach some sort of closure would be beneficial. He's not perfect, and neither are you, so have a heart, and just do the right thing. Good Luck....

Objection: LaLa pt. 1

This isn't the craziest situation that I've witnessed. But at the same time, I'm still a little surprised.

I met this group about five years ago when I was working at the G Spot. They were a fun group. Four plus one always equals a good time plus that meant I had $1500 in my pocket. Two months rent; I do it all for my son.

Nic was the one that was all gung-ho for the idea when I approached them. I fell in love with her confidence. Always wished I had as much as she did. Sometimes they would come back as a whole, sometimes just two or three, but never just one. That's the rule.

Anyway, they accepted me with open arms & I turned my life around. Of course you would to if you were surrounded by lawyers and doctors. The achieving and scholarly type, see that's not even a word I would have used back then. They made me feel a sense of self worth. They learned the real me LaQaunta Alvarez; journalist, writer, novelist at heart.

With my life turned around, I actually found and awesome man who is great to me and my son. Treats us like royalty and will always protect us. He even has two jobs so I don't have to resort to "my old ways" to make money.  His name is Jayden and he's my guardian angel. Some say he looks like he should be with Pretty Ricky but I think he's GQ like Ginuwine. I'm a lucky gal.

Now, Chris just by circumstance I don't like that self- righteous, always playing the victim whore. She knew what kind of guy Thomas was, she just choose to look the other way. Every single time a new chic popped in the picture. Couldn't go a full year without one of them messaging her online, calling her phone, or showing up at their front door in the middle of the night. He was a good looking guy I'll give him that but even I wouldn't have stayed around that long especially when he had an offspring during one of those flings. Now its Christine with baby number two.

Oh well know its time to put all my feelings aside and help Nic find her best friend. Can't have her frantic because she's my rock. Wish i could have her to myself but that's not the cards that were dealt.

After Nic runs after receiving some random message, I sprint right after her. After all, I can't let the love of my life leave by herself.  I'll be her rock this time. I'll show her I'm down for her. Then I see Chris coming out the cab. Bitch. Selfish bitch. Wait a minute. Is that Jay?! Why does my man have his hands on this trick?!

I subconsciously yell, " Jay?"

He turns around surprised. Notices me and has no words. Stunned by my presence in this unusual setting I guess. The old me returns, I suddenly remember the numerous guys in and out my bed, leaving hundreds on the dresser before I wake up in the morning. Now that time doesn't seem so long ago. With hurt and anger at the tip of my tongue, I blurt out,

"How could you cheat on me? I thought we had something good here? Then you choose her, of all people? I give you everything you ask for.. A home, unconditional love, and an awesome sex life!! How could you do this to Thomas? We bring him to join in our sexcapades and you choose his fiance to sleep with on the side?"

I stop yelling because I want answers! But nobody is speaking. I come back to reality and realize that everyone is staring at me. Didn't realize I was yelling so loud because I would have noticed we were joined by Thomas, Christine, and her belly wanting to explain their side.

Objection: Nic, Part One.

I am not the type to blow up a phone but this bitch has me passed worried. As the best friend, with the fresh scratches to prove it, you would expect the newly left at the alter bride to be with me drowning her sorrows in some Henn and watching "Will and Grace" or some shit, with ME. Instead, I've been sitting outside the reception venue, FOR HOURS, blowing up her phone. No, a text message saying "I'm OK" will not suffice! Bitch, where the hell you at?

Wait. Pause. Who am I? How rude of me. My name is Nic[ole], and I'm Chris' coofless best [wo]man. We've known each other for about 15 years now? Not like I can FIND her so she can correct me....

I just don't know where things went wrong. Here I am, in the sexiest tux I've ever worn in my damn life, walking my best friend down the aisle. The most shit we expected to put up with today was the sideways glances we would get walking down the aisle. First of all, everybody thought I would have turned her out ages ago, but it wasn't even like that. I'm not even the type to-- PAUSE-- this ain't about me. Secondly, this Baptist church is just too holy for my dyking ass to be giving away the granddaughter of the pastor, who I winked at when I gave her away. And thirdly, because I'd slept with 3 bridesmaids and the best man (at the same damn time), but hey...

But for Thomas to bud in when the pastor, her GRANDFATHER, mind you, says "does anyone object to this union... " Lawd, my heart bout jumped out my chest. For her maid of honor, her sister, Christine, to be standing there cradling her pregnant stomach, which happens to be Thomas' child. Could we have gotten a warning sign, a Batsignal that some bullshit of this proportion was going down? I was so in my head after Thomas' well rehearsed "I love you and I would never want to hurt you but-- " speech that I didn't even notice Chris stomp his ass at the alter, then proceed to her own, pregnant sister.

Now, I swoop in and play captain save a heaux. I drag Chris by her arm and veil, swinging. She manages to get a good cat scratch on my left cheek. If I didn't love this heaux, I woulda drop kicked her right there, but, you know... After I managed to calm her down and get her back into the limo, I went inside to do what the maid of honor should be doing, dealing with the guests. Once I got them packed and headed on their way, I went back outside to check on Chris. The limo was gone. That's when I started blowing up her phone. Calls, texts, voicemails. And all I get is one misly text back, "I'm OK." When I find her ass....

After calling her one last time, I put my phone down in disgust. I look up to see a cab pull up and the new bar across the street. A woman who looked just like Chris hopped out....Wait, that IS her! And I bought her those damn shoes. And...who is this pretty Ricky looking muhfugga with his hand on her booty?

Oh. Hell. No. Objection!!! I run across the street. I'm not losing her before I even get the chance to get her....again.

Objection: Chris, Part One.

Ok guys, here is the new series, #Objection. Fall in... Enjoy!

Ever notice the way alcohol clings to a glass? Especially brown liquor, it doesn’t flow as easily as milk or water, but it claws at the glass. It reminds me of the Venom in Spiderman when the church bell rings, the venom tried to break away from Peter in the movie, but that’s not the point of my thoughts. Not that I’m a big super hero fan, but randomly thinking of things is all I have the time to do at this point. Hennessey is my drink and the shot glass is begging me to devour it. My mouth waters and my throat longs to feel the burn in sweet anticipation of its passage into my life. Isn’t it funny how easily people can come into your life, spend time in it and when either of you grow past each other, the pain of letting them go is the most difficult task to encounter? Yes, I’m currently in my feelings and I’m trying to decide which shines brighter, the light dancing on the top of my shot glass or the light ice skating on my diamond ring. Bottoms up and I slam the counter with the empty glass . The bar tender looks at me and asks if I would like another, I nod yes and he pops open another bottle. After drinking an entire bottle and shots from a second, most bars would have cut me off, but this bartender takes a shot with me. He’s very cute, tall and slim with nice teeth. He’s already made over a few hundred dollars in tips and hasn’t asked me how I was going to pay for anything. I can tell he’s a good dude; raised right. He has the sexiest little dimple on his left cheek, and it makes me warm all over…. but then again that might just be the alcohol. The crowd takes a gasp followed by a slew of curse words as the sport announcer yells ‘goal’ for what seems like three days. I sink deeper into my feelings…

The crowd’s gasp is what the church sounded like when my fiancé decided to tell me he couldn’t marry me because he loved my sister and she was going to have their baby. Seriously, you would think shit like that happens in movies, but no it was and is my real life. I thought she was crying tears of joy, happy to see her sister start a new life, but now I know they were tears of agony. Really, who does shit like that to their own family? Who waits seconds before saying vows to confess their undying love for your sister? My life is not real; wait… its too real. It’s so real that I threw a right hook to his cheek and a knee to Thomas' baby making jewels. He fell to the ground and I’m not sure if I flew across the church to my sister or what, but I caught the back of her curly hair and punched her until I was lifted away… At least the brutality part is what my friend told me I did, but I cannot recall. If I had to appear in court I would honestly say I had a moment of temporary insanity. Who wouldn’t in my shoes? Anyway, my name is Christian, I didn’t act like one in church, my fiancé confessed his sins at the alter on our wedding day, and I am sitting in a bar drinking until the pain goes away. My friends call me Chris; I’m a woman’s woman. I love my independence, my intelligence and my ability to mesh well with anyone. No one from my wedding party or family knows where I am, but my phone has been blowing up for the past two hours. I’ve only spoken with three people to let them know I was ok. I think I’ve convinced them well enough that I am actually better than I can admit. My eyes are puffy because of the tears I cried before arriving at this bar, but because my make-up is water proof, at last look, I was still pretty. I’ve taken off my wedding dress in exchange for my honey moon sexy, black dress and stunning seven inch Loubs my best friend bought for me.  I’d been working out for a year and lost weight in all the right places, even toned up for the god’s honey. Snatched was what I do and I did it quite well, even in situations like these.

My next shot arrives and the smoke in the room fills beyond my tolerable limits. I grab a couple of crispy bills in my purse and hand it to the bartender. His eyes are kind; his tone was rich and soft asking me if he wants me to call a cab. I decline and we stare at each other for what seems like a few minutes. I’m not sure if he is part vampire or witch, but he had me in a trance. It seemed as though he was reading my soul or admiring the fact that I can hold my liquor so well. He flashed that cute dimple and said hang on for a minute. I start to object, but where the hell do I have to go? A pretty young thing high fives him on his way out, I gather it’s a shift switch and he unties his apron. He runs to the back where the smell of wings or pizza triggers the realization I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I need a meal so I don’t feel like a total mess in the morning. “Look, I don’t usually do this, but do you mind joining me and a few of my friends tonight? If you don’t have anything else to do, I just want to meet a new friend.” Thinking to myself, that’s why Mark created Facebook, I #minuswell join him. Since his friends were a few blocks up he suggested walking, until I stood up. He was tall, let’s just say he was well above six feet and my heels helped me meet him nearly eye to eye. He was admiring my height, body etc… it was written all over his dimple. He held out his hand and complimented my shoes, and suggested we ride to the next bar to meet up with his friends. As we walked to the taxi he described how he and his friends try to meet up and share laughs, drinks and stories, their usual. During the ride we had small talk, name exchanges. His name was Jayden, but goes by Jay. He graduated with honors from a local university a few months ago with his master’s and studying to pass some sort of test for a job promotion. This job was what he does to support his habit, but he never actually said what that habit was actually. I’m not sure why I was so vague with my answers, but I didn’t let him know that only a few hours ago my life had completely changed. I just want to have a good time and start the process of healing a broken heart. He seemed fun and his friends sound like cool people. I just hope the bottle and a half of Hennessey won’t obstruct my ability to be social…

Adventures of a College Educated Misfit Part 23

--On being a sensitive

1990 - Age 2

Mom:  Sydney, where is my, uh--?
Me: Coin purse?
Mom: Yea. You seen it?
Me: Nope.
Mom: Then how you knew what I was gonna say?
Me:  *shrugs*

This may not seem like much, but it's one of my mom's favorite stories to tell about my sensitivity.  The story about my grandfather creeped out too many of my family members, lol.

If you've known me for long enough, or follow me on the twitters, you have heard/saw me ask the following question:

 "What am I?"

And I mean that with all seriousness.  I know where I am.  I know how I am, kinda.  But I do not know what I am.  I don't think I'm an alien or a robot or anything like that  but Ii have this deeper spiritual connection that I can't place, and I hate it.  I hate that I don't know what it is and I hate that it creeps me out.  I think I would be more grateful for this gift if everything in society didn't label it wrong or strange and something you should be afraid of.  I mean, not that I give 12 fucks about what anybody thinks, but that's now.  During my "formative" years, my visions and dreams scared me and I silenced most of them as much as I could.  Now it's like the shit is back and it won't be long before I see dead people again.

Where is this coming from?  Well, after seeing my friend's dead dog run across her backyard, have countless dreams and visions and the creepiest warning signs of person disaster, I started taking a closer look at myself.  After a conversation with my mom when she asked me to read her (and not shadily) and after realizing a psychic used all my power to amplify he's reading, I started wondering what I should look into and learn.  But, most importantly, when I start feeling what somebody else is, from a distance away, I freaked.

Now, I've always been able to pick up on the feelings of others and that has dictated my behavior.  Some may call that being fake, I call it covering my ass.  I don't want to have to deal with anger and sadness that isn't mine.  And when my actual feelings are extremely low, I just stay away from people.  I can't control my feelings and yours so I am most likely to blow up or break down.  Both really bad.  Imagine how this plays into me being in crowds.  Now, think how I've behaved if you've ever seen me in one... Yea.  Sometimes I can manage, sometimes with the help of something, other times...

Where am I going with this?  Oh.  I'm really grateful for the people who know of my strangeness and embrace it.  Encourage it and me to become closer.  And no one does this more that my mother.  But I guess I want to take the time to apologize to those who don't fully understand or fear it.  Not because I'm sorry for what I said or did, or how you may feel about it.  Not even that you aren't ready to accept it at all.  Hell, I guess I'm not apologizing.  I'm challenging you to be open and accept what you cannot hear, see, or feel.  To embrace whatever fear and doubts you have with light and love.  Be able to accept my visions as what they are and not an attempt to cut down your character.  I'm laying part of myself on the cutting board while showing you yourself.  And I know you're wondering how I would deal with that.  Well, at first I'd be defensive, as accepted/expected.  But I readily see my flaws through my own eyes or someone else's.  I am open and ready to change, to improve, and maybe that's why my gift has returned.  Who knows.

Misfit.  Out. 

The Quickie Chronicles - Golden

He was only in town for the night.  I'd met him months before at a moon convention.  I learned of his love of goddesses and thought it only to be a ploy to get the goods.  I thought he didn't need it because, well, here I was in his hotel room.

I sat on the edge of the bed, hands on my knees.  He stood facing the window, curtains drawn, sunlight shining on his caramel face, with a blunt hanging out of his mouth.  He turned around, facing me, and held the blunt out for me to take.  I stood, taking it from his hand, and continued walking towards the window.  I stood in front of him and looked out.  His arms found their way around my waist and I remembered the days we met.  The walks in the park after the conference.  Stolen moments under bridges, parade stands, street corners.  I knew then that this would never be anything, not even sexual, but we were drawn to each other like nothing I can explain.  We had no choice but to fall even though we knew the eventual outcome.

I sighed and relaxed into his grip.  I rested my head back on his shoulder and blew smoke in the air.  He grabbed my chin and angled my mouth to his.  I remembered his lips.  I remembered his kisses.  Deep and passionate, like air itself.  I pulled away, put the the blunt out on the window sill and threw my arms around him.  I got a little carried away.  Slammed us both against the wall, my hands pressed firmly against it over his head.  On my tip toes, I rested my warmth on his pelvis.  I lifted one thigh to his side and pushed deeper.  He pushed away.

I took a few steps and just stood there staring at him.  I waited for him to make the next move.  He pushed against the wall and ripped down my shorts and panties.  We continued kissing.  He grabbed my ass.  I jumped up and swung my legs around him.  I could feel him pressed up against my wetness and I fought hard against his belt and zipper to free him.  I took no time, made no precautions before allowing him inside of me.  I banged against the walls with clinch fist as he took his time invading every corner and secret place I possessed.  I clawed at his back and nibbled on his shoulders.

My legs kept slipping so he put me down.  I began walking over to the bed.  He pushes me over and my hands barely manage to catch the edge of the bed.  He grabs my hips and pulls me towards him.  I began to bounce my ass against his pelvis.  He grabs the hair nearest the nape of my neck, hard.  I arch my back and bit my bottom lip.  I'm trying to keep my balance and hold on to this bed while he continues to find ways to enter me even more deeply than I could have imagined.  I give up on maintaining any type of rhythm or control.  I fall face first on the bed, arms stretched out to kingdom come pulling at the sheets.  My knees buckle beneath me so bad I just fall to them.  I try to sit back on my ankles.  He trails gentle kisses across my back.  He tries to get my to move my hips.  I just lay there and play dead, I don't think I can take much more.

After much coaxing, he gets me to get up and lay across the bed.  Here comes my favorite part.  Ankles next to ears.  He kisses me deeply before reentering me.  We just stare at each other for a few seconds before he starts rolling in and out of me and I find the strength to raise my hips to match every stroke.  I relax my legs over his shoulders and let the bed do the bouncing for me...

We lay across the bed, naked, basking in the last of the days sunlight.  The sunlight reflect through the glass onto us like a prism.  We were truly golden like the goddesses above.

The Quickie Chronicles - .....!

"So how was everything, guys? Did you all save room for dessert, or are you ready for the check?" The waitress was so polite and pleasant, but the thoughts running through the minds of my date and I were far from pure and appropriate. Midway through our date, our conversation transitioned from current living conditions to Kamasutra positions. From how long has it been to how long is it, again? From asking about parents to memories of calling me "Papi." Needless to say, we'd saved room for dessert, but it was going to be an off the menu item tonight. I promptly asked for the check, paid, and my date and I made our way to the parking garage. Although we were in separate cars, we were on the same page, and agreed to meet back at my place.

When she entered my condo, I allowed her to put her things down, and then I attacked. I reached for the bottom of her sun-dress, and swiftly lifted it over her head. She stood there breathing heavily with anticipation, while I traced her panty line with my index finger. Just before she closed her eyes, I swept her off her feet, as she wrapped her legs around my waist. Consumed with passionate kissing and nibbling, I pressed her up against the wall, rubbed along her inner thigh, and ripped her lust-soaked panties from her body. She licked and chewed on my bottom lip, as the aggression turned her on. Taking a second to stare deeply into her eyes, I brought the drenched panties up to our lips, and we both sucked the sweetness from the seams.
Pushing away from the wall, she threw the torn panties to the floor, and resumed biting on my neck, as we moved towards the bedroom. Once inside, I threw her down on the bed, and ordered her not to move. I stepped into the bathroom, turned the shower on, to let the fog rest along the glass walls. Meanwhile, she was three-fingers deep inside herself: one in her mouth, and two between her lips. I approached and knelt down in front of the bed, and with her legs and lips spread wide, I invaded her privacy. Moving left to right, up and down, and back and forth, my tongue used her clit like a punching bag. As her freshly manicured claws dug into my neck, and the steam rolled out of the shower, I scooped her up, and walked into the bathroom.

Putting her down to open the shower door, she undid the buckles on her sandles, and unsnapped her bra. With the shower door now open, she grabbed my hand and led me inside. I pinned her up against the back shower wall, stretching her hands above her head, and began kissing on her neck and shoulders. I used my tongue to outline the tattoo on her right shoulder blade, and then bit down right above it. The warm water and steam hitting our skin increased the sensation, causing her to tremble with excitement. As I kissed behind her earlobe, I whispered in her ear, "Tell me that you want it..." Before she could utter a response, I'd lifted her right leg, and slid inside of her. A fist pound against the shower wall, and a long hisssss, let me know that she was on cloud nine. Her initial contractions held me in a vice grip, as I continued to bite on her shoulder.
I began to massage her breasts, paying special to her barbell nipple piercings. Following another violent tremble, she pushed me away, turned around, and took me in her hands. She pulled and squeezed my ego, as I continued grow harder in her hands. She leaned over, and licked the tip, while gently grazing the head with her front teeth. My calf muscles tightened, as I stood on my tippy toes, trying to keep my composure. As she bobbed back and forth, I ran my fingers through her natural hair, making sure to massage her scalp. Sensing the increase in intensity, she stopped, and told me to go back into the bedroom. With our bodies still dripping wet, I sat on the edge of the bed, and waited for her to join me.

Once in the bedroom, she pushed me backwards, and bent over in front of me. Apparently, this Cowgirl liked to ride in reverse. With a firm grasp of her ankles, she cautiously lowered herself on top of me, until her abs tightened from the insertion. Slowly rising and falling, she moved rhythmically to match the inflation patterns of her lungs. Releasing her ankles, she began to run her fingers through her hair, as both her breathing and bouncing pattern increased. She bounced and bucked in the saddle, screaming out wishes worthy of a Sunday-morning sermon. A blessing in disguise was slowly showing itself, as her orgasm was imminent. With an unexpected tremble, she grabbed her breasts, as her soul began to drip down my shaft. Although her ride was over, there were many miles left in the journey. I helped her onto the bed, but I made sure she was on all fours. 
With her face down, I positioned myself behind her, and started to enjoy dessert.
Her back immediately arched itself, as I sucked and licked all the heavy syrup from her warm peach cobbler. Despite her college coursework in Spanish, her vagina was ill-prepared for the bi-lingual assault she encountered. In the midst of her moans and squirms, she got an occasional "Papi" into the mix, as her essence was being applied to my facial hair. Just before her 3rd orgasm, I stood up and slid inside of her. She responded with a ferocious growl that was muffled by the pillows on my bed. As I pumped and pushed the limits of her fun-sized frame, she begged for clarification, asking, "What [pause] are [pause] you [pause] doing [pause] to [pause] mmmmeeee?!?" I stepped back, flipped her over, pulled her to the edge of the bed, put her legs straight into the air, and plunged back inside. I slyly responded, "Anything I want to...."

With her knees to her nipples, and her feet pressed against my chest, I managed my way deeply inside of her. Switching between fast and slow stroking, the mattress was forced out of position within the bed frame. For a quick breather, I leaned all the way in, basically positioned right in front of her face. I softly kissed her lips, and with a few quick jerks of my hips, threw her into her 4th orgasm. She locked her hands behind my head, forcing me to continue driving deeper and deeper inside of her. The look in her eyes was possessed, as she commanded me to cum for her. She began to clinch tighter and tighter around me, until a geyser of greatness erupted between us. Pulling back, I helped her to stretch her legs out, allowing her to catch her breath. She mistakenly turned over and laid on her stomach.....which I quickly took advantage of. I crawled up behind her, and slid inside of her again. 
With my heavy breathing on her neck, and the low rumble of my voice in her right ear, she couldn't help but wet my sheets. I licked and kissed the back of her neck from left to right, being sure to massage the opposing shoulder as I moved. Still pressed inside of her, I spoke sweet nothings in her ear, that translated to strong somethings from her mouth. She was in a daze, as the pressure began to mount within her body. I turned her face sideways to meet mine, and asked, "So how was everything? Did you save room for dessert, or are you ready for the check?" Then, I pulled up and forcefully slammed back into her. The look on her face said it all, ".....!"

The Quickie Chronicles - Punishment

As I sit on the bed deeply enthralled in Netflix, he storms in.  The angry behind his eyes let's me know that I've done something wrong, I've been really bad.  Instead of even trying to plead my case, I prepare for my punishment.  Accept it like a good girl.  I got on all fours and wait for his rough, firm, and hard hand.

He surprises me by grabbing my ankles and tying them together with a scarf and then tying that scarf to the footboard.  He tells me I've been bad; and, I say that I'm only bad for him.  He demands that I confess all of my sexual exploits, every nastily freaking thing I've ever done.  He knows my baggage, I laid it out for him before.  I don't understand what's going on.

He handcuffs my hands to the headboard and reties my feet separately.  He sits between my legs and says he's going to torture the answers out of me.  I don't know what that means.

He gets up and strips.  My body responds and struggles to get free to touch him, lick him, feel him inside me.  I thrash about wildly on the bed trying to loosen something up.  Nothing works.  This is true torture.

He sits back between my legs.  He trails the tip of his penis against my clit to the opening of my wetness, back and forth.  It drives me insane.  I wish I had control of my body so that I could control his.  With the ability to slightly angle my hips I could slip him in, get what I want, but my restraints prevent it.

 "Beg for it." he says.  I beg and plead and do everything but get on my knees, because I can't.  He just laughs.  He straddles my neck with his thighs, and I struggle to get him in my mouth.  Once I manage to get him in and create a rhythm, he moves and takes control.  He starts slow stroking my throat.  He controls the speed and the deepness and all I can do is lay there.  Keep my mouth wet.  Move my tongue about when I feel it's safe.  When he cums, he shoves his dick as far down my throat as possible.  I choke and gag.

 "Oh, you like to have your breathing restricted, huh ?" he asks as he takes his dick out my mouth, returning between my legs.  I shake my head violently, no.  He leans over and bites me ear, my neck, my nipples.  He enters me unexpectedly, roughly, stroking forcefully, in and out, quickly.  I moan and stretch my legs, wish I could wrap my legs around him and truly match ever thrust.  He kisses me deeply then wraps his hands around my neck.  My arms are still bound so I can't fight back.  I feel weak and vulnerable.  I lose all of my power.  A heat rides through me like I've never felt before, my legs start shaking and my back protests to arch.  That one tear falls out my eyes as he looks down on me still stroking, hands still around my neck.  I want to scream as I cum but I can't, and once I've came I just lay on the bed lifelessly.

He lets go of my neck.  I gasp for air.  He unties me.  I sit up in the bed with an evil smirk.

I'm gonna punish the shit out of him as soon as I get some water...

The Quickie Chronicles - Signed

Like I said before, Stevie backwards. Part one and two.

I walk out the bathroom to see my worse fear come true.  Derrick and Jason.  Face to face.  Chatting it up like they are the best of friends.

 "Oh, there goes my girl now... " Jason says pointing to me.  You should have seen the look on Derrick's face and the bright shade of red I turned.

....

Let me not get ahead of myself.

Surely, my Facebook relationship status changed that night, simply to in a relationship.  Niggas ain't need to know who, and I sure didn't want a particular individual finding out.  But that's just a problem that social media causes.  I don't need to be your FB friend, follow you on Twitter and IG...

Let me not get besides myself.

Two days after the change in relationship status, I run into Derrick on my way to work.  We cut straight to the chase.

"So we can't, you know," he asked, looking at the back of his truck.  I simply shook my head no.   "Do I know him?"  All I could do was look at him.  I don't know what he took my silence for.  He then proceed to ask me a list of different things we could and couldn't do anymore.  Hugging, kissing, booty rubs, nibbles on the back of my neck that trail down to my shoulder blade...

"That was the last time that can ever happen," I say, sliding my dress down and slipping out the back of his truck.  Granted, I saw him again the next day.

....

Fast forward to the end of the week.  I just got off of work and all I want is a nap before any further fuckery occurs.  I wake up to a text from Jason that says, "get dressed. we're going to a party. be ready in an hour." Sent 30 minutes ago.

I spring out of bed, take a quick shower and brush my teeth.  15 minutes gone.  I spend the next 5 minutes standing in my closet trying to figure out what to wear.  Low cut sundress and sandals.  And to save myself the drama of having to detangle my hair, I tie a scarf on that shit too.

The party was in some hole in the wall.  The music and people were ratchet and the drinks were cheap so I didn't care.

[Replay the beginning]

I walk out the bathroom to see my worse fear come true.  Derrick and Jason.  Face to face.  Chatting it up like they are the best of friends.

 "Oh, there goes my girl now... " Jason says pointing to me.  You should have seen the look on Derrick's face and the bright shade of red I turned.

 "That's your girl?" Derrick asks like he's about to flip his shit.

 "Yea," I say as I stand beside Jason, taking his hand.

 "Yall know each other?"

Before Derrick gets a chance to respond I slide in with, "the city's small enough."  I began to chuckle and try to pull Jason away.

 "Before you go, I got one question." Derrick said.  Jason and I spun around not knowing which of us he was going to ask a question.   "Who was better?"  My jaw hit the ground.  I spun around and started walking away.

 "Huh?"  That's all I could say.  Jason pulled me back "no, answer the question", he said.  All I could say was...

 "Like I said before, huh?"  I mean what were truly my options here. Bruise one ego?  Bruise them both? Don't say shit?  I'll take the latter for 600 Alex.

 "You don't remember.  What if I help refresh your memory?"  Derrick whispered into one ear.  Jason was breathing heavily in the other and told us to follow him.

We end up in the store room, surrounded by bottles of Ciroc and Henn.  I look at them like why am I here and a little bit of this ain't even about to happen.  Jason is standing behind me and puts his hands on my hips.  Derrick kneels in front of me.

 "You first, " Jason says from behind me.  Derrick lifts my dress into Jason's hands.  He slides my underwear down my legs and off my feet.  He places my left foot on his shoulder before he uses his fingers to spread me open to make room for his tongue.  I lean back on Jason as my body is filled with waves of pleasure.  I tilt my head back and nibble at his ear.  My hand finds its way to the growing bulge in his pants and works swiftly to set it free.

"Guess we have a winner, " Jason says, breaking the silence.  I drop his penis from my hands and start rubbing my nipples.   "Why'd you stop?" he asked.

 "Didn't want you thinking you'd won anything yet.  You were just the closest."  Jason takes my dress off and replaces my hands with his on my nipples.  Plucking them gently, he raises each of them and brings them to his mouth.  He tugs lightly on the bar through each of them with his teeth. The stimulation of my piercings causes my nipples to throb violently as coat Derrick's face like a Krispy Kreme doughnut.  Derrick places my foot and I turn and face Jason.

 "This is a competition, right?  Your turn." I say, finally enjoying our storage room adventure.  Jason lays on the floor and directs me to sit on his face.  I straddle his chest but instead of going for the obvious 69, I reach for Derrick's pants, who is still kneeling on the floor.  As Jason's tongue reactivates my faucet, I take Derrick into my mouth.  In an effort to not neglect Jason, I continue massaging him with my hands.  Stroking them both at the same rhythm, I try to maintain my speed as Jason's tongue causes me to begin my shaking fit.  Derrick's dick is blocking my ability to scream, so I sucked him harder.  Graze my tongue along the bottom of his penis.  Suck violently on the tip.  My aggression is transferred to my hands.  I tug at Jason's cock with less grace, squeezing it tighter as my hands get closer to the tip.  Just as my shaking fit is about to move up from the base of my spine through the rest of my body, I feel Derrick's dick shift and stiffen in my mouth.  We both release and I fall face forward to Jason's peen.  I finish him off with two slurps.

 "So who won?"  Jason asks as we are getting our clothing back in order.  Derrick clears his throat as if I'm about to give him a trophy.

 "I did."  I reply with a smirk on my face just as I walk out of the storeroom.