CHAPTER ONE: Who’s House, is It?
Featuring: Mrs. Gilbert
I was working up a decent sweat running at a clip around the track that bordered the football field at the park I used every other day to work out, primarily on increasing my stamina. I was usually the only one outside this early in the morning, but today just off in the distance I found myself looking several feet ahead at a sight most welcome. I’d been coming to this park to run and do basic calisthenics for a few months now. This park was special to me in that it appeared in my dreams sometimes as a harbinger of things to come.
Earlier at four in the morning I was awakened from a deep sleep after experiencing that repeating prophetic dream once again. I was always conflicted upon waking up, but this morning left me shook enough to get out early. The dream concerned the time I’d been lured to the park by my lady love Vickie Stone only to be sucker punched and left laying as she ran off heartbroken. She didn’t know I’d been framed and made to look like a dog by her mortal enemy, a recent development at the time. In less than twenty-four hours we’d made up occupying a bed right before the whole thing blew up in our faces.
Today at barely six in the morning I was jogging around that field looking at one hell of an ass.
Whoever she was, this woman was some sort of athlete moving comfortable way ahead of me while my chest was full of fire. I was at a distinct disadvantage because I couldn’t tear my eyes away from a huge, massive heart-shaped butt and shapely gams that caused a tent in my sweatpants making it hard to keep up. A pair of white running yoga styled shorts were skintight across the expanse of her derriere with way more bulging cheekage than any woman should’ve been comfortable with. She was really moving at a decent clip leaving me happily behind.
Her upper half was covered in a matching white, short sleeved hoodie leaving her head and face completely covered and out of view. She had to be around five four, maybe a little taller, but not by much as I struggled to speed up. This woman seemed to have an hourglass figure in the extreme matching a few women I’d been lucky enough to have sex with I the past year. This mystery woman fit right in the middle between a certain baby mama number two of my cousin Jaquan and my coworker and sometimes antagonist, Zoya Berhan.
The charcoal blackened skin tone of her bare legs told me she was a sister, bar none.
I couldn’t help thinking business doing the math in my head about this unknown woman’s moneymaking potential to my “side hustle” website. There was no way I’d run up on a stranger and try to make the hard sell for an online adult website. It would look particularly bad and creepy, not to mention dangerous to my immediate freedom if I were to be reported to the police. So, I had to be content with just enjoying the view as that big dark chocolate butt appeared to slow down a bit. I drew closer curious to a fault about what this woman’s face would look like.
Then she sped off running at a sprint like someone lit a fire under her butt. She rounded the bend but ran up an incline disappearing over a short hill as I barely made the curve stopping on a dime nearly falling over. I wanted to run up the hill but thought better of it not knowing if she would be standing there. There was a parking lot on that side of the hill next door to this closed skating rink that was undergoing renovations. I hung back walking my racing heartrate down with my hands at the small of my back. My curiosity got the better of me just as I reached the point where the woman disappeared.
An old ’86 Monte Carlo was sitting in the middle of the small parking lot in the park with the windows down. I could see the shadow or outline of a person for an instant before it slowly pulled off picking up speed as it burned rubber turning the corner. I stood at the top of the short hill perplexed.
“Maybe I was supposed to chase her?” I reasoned feeling like the mystery woman had been waiting for me. I lingered behind working it out in my head figuring maybe I’d missed an opportunity for another notch on my belt at best although it was more feasible that I would have caught a police case instead.
I finished up a few laps after that until I was sure I’d made up the time before driving back over to the house I was renting from Mr. Gilbert and his new wife by now, Tressie Fisher. Their relationship had blossomed out of desperate need, mutual desire, and pure unfiltered love. The twenty-year age difference between a man in his early fifties and a woman barely reaching thirty would’ve been the talk of the church they met in courtesy of yours truly, but neither of them were having it.
The newly minted couple pulled up stakes for a southern state and a track house with more than enough room for her cousins, the siblings of my lost lady love, Vickie Stone. This fortuitously left me with a place to live, albeit with certain rules in place to assure no sexual shenanigans on my part. Knowing I had a series of flings with his only daughter Charity made the formerly stern parent leery of renting out the place to me, but I’d brought him back together with Tressie leaving the man with a perceived moral debt to pay.
The fact that his malevolently beloved, overachieving daughter was away at college probably factored into his decision. I doubt he would’ve allowed me to cohabitate with Charity considering we couldn’t seem to keep our hands off one another. We communicated frequently at first, but it predictably tapered off as she got more acclimated to her new life sort of drifting away. I missed her, sometimes.
I picked up some breakfast takeout from a local café in the area before driving home in the car formerly used by Charity added as an incentive for renting out the former Gilbert homestead. I was tasked with keeping the place in tip top shape including the lawn and backyard for a discounted rate as he gave me the garage clicker. I was considering using his garage as a sort of studio but hadn’t got around to it.
It was a weekend where I had nothing to do other than editing some footage from my surplus of material as I pulled into the garage to the strains of “Take Away” by Missy Elliot. My cousin Jaquan always had an open door, but I was taking a break after a blow up with Rashida who was still living in his home. The three of us had this symbiotic friendship that ebbed and flowed depending on whatever was going on in each other’s lives; and he still had to coparent with a woman I hated, Rashida’s former best friend.
Even my muse and sometimes FWB would sometimes disappear from the house when it was known that she would appear. I honestly didn’t know how my cousin managed it. I sat in the car eating my breakfast which consisted of a croissant stuffed with eggs, cheese, and three different meats lightly seasoned. It was a specialty at the café I frequented after workouts. A healthy mixed juice malted enhanced my meal as I considered pulling back out of the garage to hang out at the lake. It was going to be a nice sunny day.
“Huh?” I turned down the music, hearing some loud incessant knocking coming from the front of the house.
I figured it might be some particularly aggressive Jehovah Witness’s who’d been showing up since finding out the Gilbert’s moved out. My landlord had a subscription to their Watchtower magazine out of courtesy, but now I was on their radar after answering the door one morning without thinking. That interaction turned into a near hour long conversation that ended when I insinuated that I might appear at a service or two. Two more visits made it necessary for me to use the back door to come and go.
“Excuse me?!” I found a woman knocking frantically intermittently pushing the doorbell standing way too close to the locked screen door. She didn’t seem to notice as I walked around the outside of my hedges trying to figure out what was going on.
She was probably five eleven in height, tall and slender looking with a nice, packed butt that was just below big. She was wearing this tight mint green dress that hugged her curvy derriere with a visible panty line that sent jolts to my tumescence. There was a matching pocketbook, a priceless Michael Kors in one hand that she was using to beat on the door.
“EXCUSE ME!!” I shouted, getting her attention.
As soon as she turned around, I got a shock to the system.
I was looking at Mrs. Gilbert, Charity’s mother who was had some facial similarities but reminded me of this actress, Samira Wiley albeit with these puffed-up bags under her eyes. Her shoulder length hair had strips of grey in it framing her narrow elegant features. There was an air of importance gleaned just from her looking in my direction. She waved me off with a flick of the wrist which was accessorized with a chain link Dior bracelet looking briefly annoyed. Mrs. Gilbert continued knocking and ringing the bell.
“HELLO, I LIVE HERE MA’AM!!” She was the spitting image of the large portrait I’d seen in the former Brownstone home she formerly shared with her estranged daughter. This woman tossed her only child out after a fiasco created by the way too entitled former princess which cost her a ton of money to rug sweep. I was looking at the only woman Charity deferred to on the face of the planet. She’d forced Charity to apologize against her will to Tressie Fisher which left her daughter devastated.
The artist who’d painted that portrait was incredibly talented. I recalled Mr. Gilbert being left out of it.
“No, you don’t; now toddle along.” I did a doubletake as she spoke staring daggers, into my eyes.
“Toddle along?”
She turned back around, fishing an expensive phone out of her purse, presumably calling Mr. Gilbert but I decided not to wait getting out my keys, walking up the stairs which made her flinch like I was a thug or something.
“Don’t you dare; I know the chief of police, buddy!” She clutched her purse to her chest like I would snatch it almost dropping her phone in the process. I recalled that she was this high-powered attorney who left her blue collar husband in the dust of her rising career as she became a partner at a prestigious law firm.
I unlocked the screen door with my keys and then followed up with the heavy oak door stepping inside.
“WHERE DID YOU GET THOSE KEYS?!” Mrs. Gilbert asked as I locked the screen door looking her dead in the face.
“Ask your ex-husband.” I slammed the heavy door in her face hard enough to make the glass window in it vibrate. Images of Charity having a meltdown in her father’s truck as I held her in my arms, fueled my actions. Mrs. Gilbert was no less toxic in person.
The knocking started up again as I picked up a copy of my rental agreement from a shelf near the doorway before opening up again.
“WHAT?!!”
Mrs. Gilbert did a doubletake blinking profusely.
“Watch your tone; how long have you been here and what’re you doing shacking up here with William when I haven’t been dually notified as the primary owner of this home?”
“I don’t see your name on my rental agreement.” I held it up pressing it against the screen so that she could see it.
“Open the door so that I can properly look at that document.”
“No Mrs. Gilbert.”
“Did you hear what I said; open the door and present me with that document properly.”
“Talk to your ex-husband.”
“Are you being, difficult?” There was no doubt this was Charity’s mother in the least. I had to work hard to keep from withering under her stern, piercing gaze.
Formerly I’d seen the aforementioned portrait in the ruins of the home she shared with her eponymous daughter excluding her supportive husband from the fruits of her success. Secondly, I’d heard her strict authoritative tone that made her normally malicious daughter snap to form and obey without question. Charity Gilbert talked about being “Evil” in humorous tones with me but there was always that serious undertone to her words which harkened to the woman glaring at me from the other side of the screen door. The younger Ms. Gilbert no doubt learned everything from her mother. I felt for Mr. Gilbert.
“No, I’m not being difficult ma’am; I’ve informed you that I am renting this property from your former husband and presented you with said rental agreement. I’m willing to email you a copy of the rental agreement and you can DO what YOU WANT with it, okay Mrs. Gilbert?”
“Well, I’m standing right here in front of you.”
“I can see that ma’am.”
“Perhaps you should allow me inside so that we can peruse the agreement like civilized people.”
“I don’t feel comfortable with that ma’am.”
“And why not?”
“I am unsure of your actual intent given how I found you at my doorstep this morning. Perhaps you should explain yourself to make me consider conversing about a perfectly legal matter that is iron clad. You were quite emotional before I, made myself known and there is a ring cam recording your uhm, outburst.” My tone and manner of speaking was meant to subtly mimic her own.
Mrs. Gilbert’s already narrow looking eyes became slits that reminded me of her daughter who made the same expression when infuriated. I just stared back stoically waiting for the next shoe to drop.
“I have business connections, considerable business connections to the creditors who hold sway over this property. My husband was actually paying me in part all these years with money that was funneled into our daughter’s trust and some brokerage accounts.
“No shit.”
This forced smile appeared on her face, kind of a slit because she sucked in her lips making her expression a menacing grimace.
“I don’t feel like PLAYING with a YOUNG FOOL who doesn’t understand the world around him and how things really work out here. Do you want my full, undivided attention? I’m a very busy woman, young man.”
“Not busy enough considering how you were banging on my door.”
“Do you want to play with me?” I knew I was being threatened.
“Charity wouldn’t like it if I played with you Mrs. Gilbert; although you would probably love it. Hate to be crass, but you seem like you need, to release something.”
That weird smile became a half smirk.
“Oh, so you want to get your nappy head dribbled out on the sidewalk, right?”
“No ma’am, I’ve answered all your questions even though you could have called your ex-husband and verified things instead of making a recorded terrorist threat. Did I mention the ring cam? I think I did.”
“I can get that tossed out of a court proceeding.”
“Oh wow…hey, you don’t have his number, do you Mrs. Gilbert?”
“What?”
“HE CHANGED HIS NUMBER AND BLOCKED YOU, DIDN’T HE?!!” I couldn’t help laughing at the entitled woman on my porch stupidly posturing trying to make herself seem larger than life when she’d obviously been shut out of a man’s life, she’d cast a long shadow over for decades under the guise of coparenting.
“Shut up.”
“Want me to take a message?”
“SHUT UP!”
“Mr. Gilbert has been really busy as of late living happily ever after with the future Mrs. Gilbert number two ma’am. Perhaps you should get a clue.” I could barely get the burn out having trouble stifling my laughter.
“FUCK YOU!” Mrs. Gilbert snarled slamming her expensive purse into the screen where my face was.
“Okay it’s been fun ma’am; don’t come back now, buh bye.”
I closed the door slow and methodically as I could manage still chortling at the long-distance burn delivered to Mrs. Gilbert from her former husband. I doubted she even knew he’d moved away presently living happily with Tressie Fisher being surrogate parents to Vickie Stone’s younger siblings. I was just down the corridor halfway to my bedroom when Mrs. Gilbert started beating, kicking, and ringing the doorbell like a madwoman. I weighed my options, deciding against the police because of her status opening the front door again.
“Now Mrs. Gilbert…Oh.” I was stopped dead in my tracks before I could administer more of my acid wit.
Her face was a mask of desperate indignation, mascara running down her cheeks, teeth gritted in rage.
“HE AIN’T MARRYING NO BODY!! THAT GIRL IS YOUNG ENOUGH TO BE HIS DAUGHTER!! THIS IS JUST SOME MOTHERFUCKING MIDLIFE CRISIS!! HE’S ACTING LIKE A PUP WHO GOT HIS DICK WET FOR THE FIRST FUCKING TIME!! THAT WHORE IS NOT GOING TO BE CHARITY’S STEPMOTHER, YOU ASS!!”
“Shit.” The woman was having a meltdown as I considered slamming the door in her face. Just over her shoulder, I noticed a brand-new Bentley parked haphazardly in front of the Gilbert homestead. One of the front wheels was up on the curb partially on the adjacent lawn. She’d been triggered by something.
“OPEN THE GAWD-DAMN DOOR!! I’M PUTTING AN END TO THIS NONSENSE RIGHT HERE AND NOW!!” The emotional rage in her voice was palpable enough to shake me to my core. I guess I didn’t move fast enough because she grabbed the door handle shaking it in this insane fit starting to shriek.
I unlocked the screen door and was immediately shoved aside as Mrs. Gilbert powerwalked to her husband’s bedroom door kicking it open with authority.
All that angry energy dissipated instantly as I walked up cautiously behind her.
The room was empty, completely packed up other than a detached headboard left behind along with a few carboard boxes of odds and ends the man didn’t think were essential to the new life he was building with the new lady in his life. Mrs. Gilbert’s shoulders slumped at the sight of an empty room she once shared with the man she was married to before discarding him for career and a privileged life.
“Mr. Gilbert uhm, moved out.” I explained softly, understanding her feelings.
She turned slightly nudging me as she went into the living room and sat on the couch.
“Uh, didn’t your daughter, tell you ma’am?”
Mrs. Gilbert sat there staring off into space looking at the living room window and the tree just outside it in the front yard.
“She doesn’t take my calls; they go to an answering service. Charity has moved all of her financial assets to a private firm now that I released them to her. I, have no power over her anymore.”
“Oh.” I folded my arms, not surprised in the least. She was her mother’s daughter, after all.
“So, I couldn’t call her even if I wanted.”
We didn’t talk for a few minutes as she reached down putting her purse on the coffee table. It looked as if her world was imploding and my first instinct was to be understanding, and I hated myself for that. This woman didn’t deserve any empathy based on what I knew of her from her daughter’s words. Charity had been discarded like trash and placed under the care of a parent who was wholly unprepared for her true nature. My sudden appearance in that life unexpectantly changed things.
“You know my daughter?”
“Uhm, yeah.” That moment of hesitation drew her gaze on me like a spotlight.
“You’re him, that guy she wouldn’t stop chattering about when we called to the carpet to return her trust. I was worried she’d gone fully native and was about to marry down because she was so defiant that afternoon. Made me so angry, I just blurted it out. Then we couldn’t get her to say anything; it was like she’d gone into shock.”
“Well, I guess you ain’t got nothing to worry about now.” Mrs. Gilbert raised a perfectly arched eyebrow scrutinizing my face at that comment.
“You broke up?”
“We were never together; just fuck buddies, a lot.”
“HOW DARE YOU?!!”
“Don’t give me that shit ma’am; we both know who your daughter is as a person. Ain’t that the reason you yourself cast Charity out of her privileged life?! She embarrassed you and got tossed on her ass back to a place you abandoned when your paper got big. We were never together, but she’s one of my best friends even if we don’t talk all that much anymore. I’d never give up on her Mrs. Gilbert. We talked it over before she left and we, made love that one time. Between you and me, it was hard for me to walk away, but I knew she didn’t belong down here in what your snobby ass would call “Da’ Hood” Mrs. Gilbert.”
“Don’t get self-righteous with me; I grew up in one of the worst neighborhoods in this city.”
“Yeah, so what; still didn’t hesitate to kick your only child to the curb when she cost you a few dollars.”
“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!”
“Wrong, I do know what I’m talking about Mrs. Gilbert. I was there the night Charity stole her father’s truck, remember that? You read her the riot act and made her apologize to the same woman you’re now sitting on my couch mad at today. You’ve should’ve seen your little girl Mrs. Gilbert; she sucked it up perfectly and followed orders to the letter. Even got baptized too; oh, you weren’t there, right? Bluebloods can’t be caught slumming down here in the slave quarters with the noobs, huh?”
She avoided my eyes opening her purse removing an expensive phone. I watched Mrs. Gilbert check her messages obviously ignoring everything I said.
“Yeah, that’s right, ignore the peasant; and don’t get any wild ideas about messing with Tressie Fisher either Mrs. Gilbert. You REALLY don’t want none of her; trust me on that.”
“I don’t need advice from you.”
“Yes, you do ma’am; Tressie is a good fit with Mr. Gilbert. She makes him happy; they make each other happy. He already broke up with her for Charity once and now that they’re back together you ain’t getting them apart even with a nuke. I ain’t gonna let you shit on that, ma’am. Leave them alone.”
“There isn’t anything to mess with; it’s simple infatuation with a girl that’s younger. A midlife crisis for an overgrown man child.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, this “fling” will be over in less than a year if not sooner, and you’ll be out on the street when he moves back in here, mark my words. ”
“Bullshit.” I’d got my phone out finding Tressie’s social media and the reason for her appearance at Gilbert’s former homestead.
“Young man, I was married to William for fifteen years; I think I know him better than some kid barely out of high school who’s obviously infatuated with my daughter’s tits!”
“And don’t forget that tight little ass, too.”
“HOW DARE YOU!” Mrs. Gilbert got so flustered; she dropped her phone on the carpet. I didn’t think she would slap me but wanted to stick the knife in further. I wanted to get some back for her daughter that night.
“Want me to lie? Doesn’t change the fact that you know who your daughter is, top to bottom and you judged her for that. Raw honesty not your thing, huh Mrs. Gilbert? Would you be upset if I told you she’s got a picture of my dick in her collection?”
“Ah hell, why does she get herself entangled with all of these “smart niggas” with an overinflated sense of self-righteousness?” Mrs. Gilbert was talking more to herself than me as she leaned over retrieving her phone from the carpet.
“You must have loved Jayson Stello, huh?”
“Did she tell you about her whole life?” Mrs. Gilbert sounded exasperated.
“We talked a lot ma’am, in-between fucking like rabbits; did I mention how much I loved your daughter’s tight little ass?”
“REALLY?!!”
“Yeah, that thing is awesome; she loved that I loved it, too.” The expression on her face told me she knew I was partially trolling her.
“Did you talk to her father like you’re talking to me right now?” She retorted, full of snark.
“He knows we were together.” I chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Uh, I have a morals clause in my rental agreement; probably because I had sex with his daughter…lots of sex.”
“Really?”
I offered Mrs. Gilbert my rental agreement letting her read it at length while I went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. She followed moments later still perusing the contract as I filled a mug.
“Are you some sort of lothario?'”
“Not intentionally.”
“This rental agreement would suggest otherwise.”
“Are you worried?”
I got a sarcastic expression from Mrs. Gilbert which was designed to make me feel stupid.
“Oh, really?” I held up the face of my android revealing the pic from Tressie’s social media in which the happy couple were sitting together in some diner cuddling over a cup cake with a candle in it. Tressie was flashing a big shiny rock on her ring finger that theoretically Mr. Gilbert shouldn’t have been able to afford. Mrs. Gilbert reacted facially to the pic saying nothing.
“Oh, you don’t like that one; how about this one, huh?”
The second pic showed the former church youth pastor and pianist testing out a full wedding dress with a plunging neckline that put her exceptionally large breasts on display with a veil of intricate lace making it classy. The veil on her head was up allowing her shoulder length brown locks to cascade down over her shoulders. She looked like a classic princess with something for everyone in the visual. Her curves and powerful hourglass figure got a reaction from Mrs. Gilbert.
“GIVE ME THAT!” She snatched at my phone, but I was too quick. I accidentally tapped a video that had been posted filling the kitchen with Mr. Gilbert’s voice.
“I know this is sudden, but I can’t take the chance I might lose you again. You’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been in my life and don’t ever want us to be apart again. Tressie Fisher, I love you and I want you to be my wife; I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to dedicate my life to making you happy because you are my true soul mate. WILL YOU MARRY ME TRESSIE FISHER?!!!”
The video showed Mr. Gilbert on shaky bent knee in that restaurant while she sat on the edge of the booth, they were occupying crying profusely and nodding her head amid raucous applause. A crowd of people surrounded the table, and he was also caught up in the water works flanked on both sides by Vickie Stone’s siblings Stacy and Justin. Each of the children had a hand on Mr. Gilbert’s shoulders looking on, crying tears of joy as Tressie started shaking her head profusely.
“YES!! YES, I WILL MARRY YOU WILLIAM!! I LOVE YOU! I WILL BE YOUR WIFE!!” Tressie shouted back almost swooning as Demon appeared out of nowhere with a bouquet of flowers which he placed on her lap before planting a kiss on her forehead.
It seems the fix was in on Ms. Tressie Fisher, former youth pastor and church pianist, future second wife of Mr. William Gilbert. It was pretty much a big event in the small town where the lovers now made their home with a makeshift family already in place. In that moment I was shaken as well, but Mrs. Gilbert looked visually devastated from the audio alone much less the video on the face of my android aimed in her direction. I knew it was a death blow to her ego being wrong about the man she’d been married to for fifteen years. She never thought he would move on from their time together.
“No invitation?”
Her face went ashen as her shoulders stiffened up, then she turned and walked back to the living room having a seat on the couch staring out of the front window again.
“Charity wasn’t there.” I offered out of somber guilt for sticking it to her perhaps too hard.
“Doesn’t matter, she won’t have anything to do with me because I didn’t stand by her when she hit rock bottom during her senior year. I knew William would be harsh and give her some much-needed guidance even though she was already eighteen at the time. He was a good man, a good father to our child. Charity was a miracle baby for us, you know; I was medically unable to have more children. He wanted a boy, but I got what I wanted. I always get what I want; even when I shouldn’t have. Charity was my blessing, so I took her in the divorce. He didn’t have any money for a good attorney and wasn’t able to withstand two colleagues who’d been high school best friends with matching law degrees.”
“Mrs. Gilbert, stop.”
“I spoiled the baby and then gave her back to William like some broken toy when her careless actions hit my pockets. Told myself he would straighten her out in time to resume her academic career and hopefully, follow in my footsteps. Maybe she has, you know? Maybe that’s why Charity won’t talk to me. When she moved her assets, it was the writing on the wall. It’s what I would’ve done. It’s what I did to William when I decided to move on from the marriage.”
“No.”
“The partners are going in a different direction. It’s been a long time coming since Charity went public; I spent damn near six months putting out fires. Somebody even hacked her cloud; cost me a pretty penny to get that shit under control. I put out way too many fires when I should’ve just let her take it on the chin and now, she’s ghosting me. Thought I’d go home to my condo and talk to Fernando, but he was gone too; it’s like he knew the money was thinning out. I helped him out with his immigration status and now he’s shacking up with one of my colleagues from the law firm that I helped put on the map. What, I don’t deserve any loyalty whatsoever? He left me for a fat, frumpy blonde who’s married! I work hard in and out of the office to maintain and this is the thanks I get while my husband is acting like a simp!”
“Ex-husband.”
“Huh, what?” Mrs. Gilbert looked up from her self-absorbed rant. I doubted she even knew I was there at the entrance to the corridor that led to the kitchen and my bedroom, which formerly belonged to her daughter.
“Mr. Gilbert is your ex-husband; like for the last fifteen years, probably twenty plus considering Charity is in her early twenties now. You’ve had your fun in the sun and now you’re mad because you took the time to look around and found nobody checking for you. Mrs. Gilbert it’s been real; but I have shit to do.”
She looked utterly shocked at my callous response to her selfish monologue.
“Let yourself out.”
I drained my mug walking back to the kitchen intent on getting on with my day. I had a deluge of editing to do for my website and my cousin Jaquan wanted me to join him at the gym. I was bristling at the hubris of Mrs. Gilbert thinking she could pick and choose when she wanted to be in her daughter’s life.
“Look at me.” Her voice was right behind me in the kitchen.
“You’re too entitled to open the door and let yourself out Mrs. Gilbert.”
“I want you to look at me.”
I turned around.
Mrs. Gilbert was standing there in her underwear which consisted of a green wire free bralette and some matching high waisted panties that looked a size smaller than they should have been.
Her modelesque figure was cut from what looked like intense regular workouts. It was instantly apparent that Charity’s figure came from her mother right there in the kitchen. She was about five eight in height and taller in heels in front of me. Her bust was a size smaller than her daughter, but still a good D-cup with everything drenched in delectable dark chocolate. I was affected visually.
“No uh, hell no Mrs. Gilbert!”
“You can’t deny what’s right in front of your eyes; I’ve got everything my daughter has and better.”
“You’re wrong for that!”
“You don’t want to fuck me?!” Mrs. Gilbert inched closer trying to handle my bicep as I panicked. Her hand lightly grazed my package.
“STOP IT GAWD DAMMIT!!” I screamed point blank in her face.
Her eyes went wide in fear before she ran from the kitchen sobbing like some jilted schoolgirl. I heard her plop down on the couch whimpering as her last gambit failed. I was reminded of a conversation with her daughter about the devastating effects on the mind of convincing a woman that she had no value, even physically. I knew it would be hard getting her out of the house as she sobbed in the living room.
My phone started flashing with an incoming text message.
TEXT: Fuck her.
It was simple and infinitely horrifying as I looked around feeling big brother’s eyes watching. I recalled leaving the nanny cams active in the living room as a sign of good faith to Mr. Gilbert that I wouldn’t be entertaining or shooting content in his home. Now, I was worried he was watching and had been since Mrs. Gilbert showed up banging on the front door. I didn’t recognize the number, beginning to worry if perhaps Tressie was watching remotely.
REPLY TEXT: Who is this?
TEXT: Go outside.
“Huh, what?”
REPLY TEXT: Are you outside?
TEXT: Go out on the front porch. She’s squatting on the couch like a dejected toddler in a fetal position. She won’t care, trust me.
The utter weirdness of the situation got me walking into the living room where, true to this unknown person’s insistence, Mrs. Gilbert was lying on the sofa facing the wall with her feet drawn up deathly quiet. I knew the hidden camera was mounted in one corner of the room facing towards the front door. That camera was going away after this as I carefully opened the front door stepping outside.
My android started ringing the moment I pulled up the screen door.
“Who is this; Tressie?”
“NO!”
My heart skipped a beat then started pounding in my chest at a familiar voice I hadn’t heard in months.
“Charity?”
“Surprised?”
“Where are you girl; I wanna see you.” I was sappy looking about leaning over the railing on the front porch looking down at the side of the house.
“In my dorm room, in Atlanta Georgia.”
“What?”
“Yes, I admit I’m remote viewing you using daddy’s software. The nest cams are connected to an online server. It’s an incredible package quite honestly that sends a notice to your cell if the system is alerted to a potential break-in. So, just to let you know I changed the passwords on daddy’s accounts some time ago. He can’t see you and he probably doesn’t care, but if he saw you screwing mother, I couldn’t hazard a guess about his reaction to that.”
“You could just pick up the phone instead of spying on me, couldn’t you?”
“Midterms; I’ve had lot of catching up to do academically and quite honestly, I liked being able to peek in on you although you’ve been a total bore. I suppose daddy probably gave you some dumbass morals clause in the rental agreement and that’s why I haven’t seen you sleeping with any girls in there. I was hoping to at least get you jerking off. Couldn’t you jack off for me; at least once every now and then?”
“Bitch.” I was grinning like a jackal at the return audibly of one of my best friends.
“Evil, remember?”
“You could facetime.”
“We can talk about that later, but I want to remind you of something. Do you recall my assistance with your campaign of retribution against another very malicious alpha female and one dirty cop. You do recall my online dragging of said police officer which resulted in the loss of his career, wife and most, if not all his side bitches? You do remember that, right?”
“Yes.”
“What was my payment?”
“Uh, come on Charity.” I knew she wanted Andre 13.5, but he’d become lost in the mix, and she was gone before I could make good on my promise.
“I reiterate; what was my payment supposed to be?”
“Mandingo.” This was Andre’s code name between us. He was an itch she never got to fully scratch during their shared high school days and part of the reason for her presence in my life. I’d promised her access to the simpleton in exchange for her services, but we got caught up and then she was gone, returned to her former life as a consolation prize by her parents after being utterly humiliated.
“That’s right, but did I get said payment?”
“No.”
“So, you owe me, right babe?”
“Yes; what, you want me to send Andre to you on a bus or something?” I was shushed before I could continue.
“So, no; but it’s your turn.”
“Are you serious; that’s your mother, Charity.”
“Fuck her.”
“I don’t…”
“You said you were on my side, remember?” I was reminded of her question of fealty between us bar none that night she was dragged and verbally dressed down by the woman presently on my couch.
“I am on your side; you know that, Charity.”
“Then fuck her… and watch what happens next.” I immediately knew she was planning some sort of revenge centered around her expulsion from her former life and that humiliation.
Mrs. Gilbert forced Charity to apologize to Tressie Fisher after the two women fought daughter versus her father’s lover with said parent siding with his woman over blood. Mrs. Gilbert cared nothing at all, couldn’t be bothered and was busy with her live-in boy toy. I knew what was being asked of me.
It was fair trade.
“Okay.”
“Do it in the living room; do it good enough to make her remember you for days afterward; then I’m gonna get my slice of the booty.”
“Charity, please.”
“I want you to fuck her; correction, I NEED you to DO THIS! If she hadn’t come to the house, none of this would’ve happened and I’m doing this for a good reason. You became “The Educated Simp” but I’ve always been Charity Gilbert, my mother’s daughter…her creation. Help me give her a taste of that evil.”
“Fine.”
“You’re doing nothing wrong, okay? Make her feel good, she needs it.”
Charity ended the call.
The ball was in my court, and I was left to consider things knowing she was viewing me remotely from her campus waiting to see if I would betray her and derail whatever she had planned for her mother. I remembered her meltdown when she thought I was sleeping with Tressie Fisher knowing she was utterly compromised way different from the woman I’d just finished talking with. After all the drama surrounding her life and all the times she’d come through in a clutch for me, there was no choice.
“I’m leaving.” Mrs. Gilbert said dejectedly sitting on the couch in the process of pulling her dress back on. It was covering her lower half and she was tugging the remaining strap up a defined bicep with a breast still exposed.
I didn’t hesitate walking across the room bending at the waist kissing her full on the lips. She shrieked half an instant before parting, her lips sliding her tongue into my mouth swirling it around softly before breaking the kiss, conflicted.
“I thought you didn’t want me?”
“I lied.”
My hands went to her torso just under her armpits drawing Mrs. Gilbert into another passionate kiss that lasted for a while as I drew the dress down to her waist, then cupped her breasts teasing her erect nipples with my thumbs.
“You, really do want me, don’t you?” I didn’t answer, tracing her jawline with the tip of my tongue making her moan and cup the opposite side of my face. The bralette was slipped over her head and tossed aside leaving her breasts exposed. She looked down at her chest almost covering it, then cupped them offering her erect blocky nips to be suckled. Her breasts matched Charity’s in appearance but were slightly smaller and semi solid molding perfectly to my sucking lips.
My hands drew her closer until her knees touched the floor before sliding her dress over the curve of her own tight, athletic butt which was full and dense to the touch. I got her to stand which helped her expensive frock end up in a corona around her heels. It dawned on me that Mrs. Gilbert was possibly there to make a play for her ex-husband, inadvertently drawing the remote attention of her malevolent daughter.
“You don’t want me to take these off?” She had started to remove her panties, but I stopped her.
“I want to enjoy the view; get on the couch on your knees.”
“Oh, sure okay.” There was this breezy sort of disbelief in her brown eyes as she allowed me to direct her onto the couch facing this large portrait on the wall that was probably in the home she lived on the premises. She mounted the couch sort of rigid with her back in a straight line which gave me a good look at her butt directly.
I was always an “Ass Man”, and Mrs. Gilbert was rocking a sculpted masterpiece that looked almost artificial. The cut of her panties was enticing, picked out to accentuate the dual, packed narrow ovals that comprised this perfect gym butt. Her figure read athletic with an overlay of balletic grace. My gaze traveled up, finding her looking at me with a sort of inquisitive demureness on her narrow features.
“I guess I’m not as good as my daughter; she’s much better than an old woman.” Mrs. Gilbert seemed to be fishing for some validation on my part, but I wasn’t going to make it easy. I glanced at the camera mounted in the corner of the living room knowing Charity could see and likely hear everything there.
My hand landed between her thighs pressed into her satin covered slit using three fingers. Mrs. Gilbert responded to the intense rubbing friction between her thighs with a hollow sounding moan as I leaned in from the back taking one of her earlobes between my lips, sucking it and playing with the tiny diamond mounted there. My other hand kneaded her left breast squishing and rolling the nipple as she gasped, starting to lightly rock her hips back and forth sawing my digits. I peppered her cheek with kisses kneeling as I reached around cupping her sex fully still grinding her cunt with my middle fingers.
I managed to slip a finger inside rubbing her inner grooves, finding her moist and humid. Mrs. Gilbert reacted with a hard flinch as more fingers invaded her snatch exploring very gradually until the tips curved up into her secret spot. My body just behind hers provided a vertical anchor as she shivered about bumping into me whimpering and huffing taking in deep breaths of air as her insides became slimy. I kept up the gradual intensity tapping morse code on that spot as she started to get squirmy.
That sculpted butt of hers shot backwards into my crotch as I jilled her snatch relentlessly earning these labored whines. Her hips started rotating and bumping into my pelvis as I played with her mature cunt. Three fingers could barely fit into her gooey sleeve but were more than enough as Mrs. Gilbert’s face twisted into a mask of agonized ecstasy. It felt like she was trying to get away as the tremors started to engulf her, wholesale. It sounded like Mrs. Gilbert was trying to stifle herself as she stuffed the edge of her hand in her mouth. This woman was on the precipice as I went harder thumping her secret spot.
I withdrew my fingers from her box finding her essence running off them.
“Why’d you stop?”
“I need you to plant your feet flat on the carpet, Mrs. Gilbert.” She didn’t hesitate doing as I asked assuming a ninety-degree angle bent at the waist.
This woman was cut with not an ounce of fat or cellulite on her body. Charity’s mother looked incredible bent over with her legs locked. She glanced back at my face then down at my hands as I unbuckled. The anticipation was real as some barely there goosebumps appeared on the exposed portion of her tight, sculpted buttocks. I didn’t hesitate drawing her panties down to her knees as she looked back again. I handled her butt, finding it resilient almost akin to a stress ball as I parted her cheeks exposing her slit.
The resultant shriek made my ears ring as I slammed inside balls deep with authority just letting it sit there in honeypot. Mrs. Gilbert’s legs started shaking uncontrollably as she went into the throes of a powerful orgasm. I pressed harder wedging the base of my cock into her slit but didn’t move otherwise. More goosebumps prickled up on her back and forearms as she shuddered and shook, failing to control herself as her knees buckled. I remained still as Mrs. Gilbert groaned and dug her nails into the couch.
“Cumming…Cumming…CUMMING!!” Her authoritative voice filled the living room reverberating through the Gilbert homestead as she crested. Her limbs were stiffened and immobile for a few minutes while I remained silent watching as she huffed breathing hard.
“AWK!! GAWD!!” My hips went into overdrive as she was coming down, fucking this mature woman like it was my last day on earth. Her nails clawed into the upholstery while her head and torso dropped. I was hitting it as hard as I could, finding that her butt didn’t move or jiggle. The thing was a solid mass that presented a challenge I wanted to overcome. I redoubled mt grip pounding her harder than ever.
“FUH-FUH-FUCK!!” Her veneer of class slid away exposing the desperate woman in need underneath.
Her limbs tightened up, making Mrs. Gilbert a rigid stationary target as the sounds of our tryst filled the living room. Mrs. Gilbert’s distressed moans and whimpers fueled my thrusts as our bodies wetly clapped together, becoming sticky. Those moans were more bellows enhanced and made to sound like she was being gutted each time my prick thumped the back of her cunt. Her pussy was extremely tight and narrow with an addictive friction. Everything about this nigh-entitled high class lawyer was flying right out the window as my hands used gluttonous handfuls of her lean hips.
I was beating her back out for an audience of one.
Charity Gilbert was remotely watching me fuck her mother like a beast.
“FUCK-FUCK ME-HARDER!! SHIT!! FUCK ME!! AW!! UN-UN!! AW SHIT!! YOU’RE GONNA!! BREAK ME!!” Mrs. Gilbert lost her composure blubbering loudly in this hard, masculine sounding tone. Those long legs were shaking wildly, knees knocking together as if she were standing in the middle of the arctic. Her defined, muscular arms went rubbery while her shoulders shifted and flexed. Her knees hit the edge of the couch, kneeling as I was drawn closer handling her waist. Something shifted in her posture.
Mrs. Gilbert’s tight, sculpted derriere became a popping, rolling blur of motion slamming and sawing back and forth on the base of my cock. It felt like something had been unlocked deep inside as her head landed on the couch cushions with her toned bubble slapping into my pelvis high above her shoulders. She was swiveling and undulating in serpentine fashion taking me from stem to base with a primal rhythm that was fascinating to watch. Her eyes were tightly shut, face in profile tightly huffing as her tongue darted out lapping at the cushions.
“I’m gonna cum baby; keep fucking it like that. I can feel it being forced up outta me, oh shit baby.” Her voice was breezy and wholly sensual juxtaposed audibly with my frenzied as I climbed atop the couch plunging and rodding out her cunt in the bulldog position. Mrs. Gilbert seemed tighter and narrower now so wet; the squelching sounds were audible.
“You gonna cum?”
“Yeah, just a little bit more; aw shit, it feels so deep like this, like its poking my stomach. Aw shit, you’re not supposed to be this good. Shit, now….AW!! Now I can see why my daughter was…UN!! AW!!…so infatuated with you baby!! AW FUCK IT HARDER!! UN-UN!! OH, SHIT YOU’RE MAKING ME CUM!!”
I felt a deluge of wetness around my thrusting member as Mrs. Gilbert went into hysterics with a high-pitched scream followed by some labored sobbing as she faceplanted on the sweat soaked cushions disengaging us. Her modelesque body was glazed over in a thick sheen of perspiration that made her mocha hued skin tone glisten in the sunlight from the big panel front room window.
I couldn’t help but admire the visual with my unsated cock at full attention covered with veins of lust.
“Oh, that’s what I’ve been needing for oh, so long now.” Mrs. Gilbert propped herself up on her elbows, looking back at me with a dirty smile on her narrow face visibly flushed despite her complexion. Her gaze fell upon my throbbing member before she looked up into my face with a raised brow.
She slowly sat up draping her legs over the edge of the sweat soaked cushions stretching as she eyeballed my endowment a few times between staring with an indecipherable expression. Mrs. Gilbert shocked me and the world when she reached up cupping the underside of my balls giving them a hearty squeezing and kneading them for a few moments. Charity had to be taken aback as her mother got on her knees framing my prick with both hands as the upper half of my cock disappeared between her lips.
Her expression didn’t change but the suction was immediate and indescribably hard and intense. Only half of me was inside her mouth as she bobbed her head robotically sucking so hard, my shaft sort of bent a little. I wanted to shove everything inside, but experience taught me better. My experience with the opposite sex was considerable at this point in my life. More of my girth began to disappear as she pushed closer audibly swallowing and slurping loudly. A breathy gasp escaped my maw as I lightly cupped the back of her head. Mrs. Gilbert reacted to my touch pinching my balls, encircling the base of my cock.
Mrs. Gilbert lips slid further as the head of my cock tapped the back of her throat in succession. She started using both of her hands pinching my balls, ramping up the intense suction. My endowment started swelling up as the sucking got louder. Her right hand encircled the base of my member getting tighter as I started to moan and whine involuntarily from her actions. Her actual skill became apparent as that right hand started pumping and stroking towards her pursed lips.
“Damn. Oh shit, Mrs. Gilbert you’re…ah, fuck that feels good!” Now her lips were moving towards the outward stroking motions of her right fist. Her suckling moans and loud slurps were taking me right over the edge as precum started to flow freely down her lips. Her kneeling body was rigid with only her head and hands moving frenetically as spurts of jizz started bursting inside her mouth.
“AW!! AW SHIT!! DAMN MRS. GILBERT!! SUCK DAT!! OH, AW FUCK MA’AM!!” The suction suddenly got so intense; I started shouting rhythmically prodding her head into my crotch. This audible syrupy sound accompanied her actions as I came in her mouth over and over again realizing she was swallowing each burst as my inner thighs tightened up.
Then it was over as Mrs. Gilbert pulled back with her mouth open revealing she’d swallowed everything. It felt electric post coital setting my nerves on fire as Mrs. Gilbert handled my thighs with both hands.
“That felt good?”
“Hell yes.” I was on cloud nine from her methodical blowjob. Mrs. Gilbert planted some kisses on my inner thighs intermittently watching my reaction to her efforts. Her million-watt smile reminded me of her daughter when she was gloating over a sexual conquest.
“Have a seat.” Mrs. Gilbert patted the sweat soaked couch cushion still on her knees smiling.
She followed me up onto the couch cushion moving energetically kneeling at my side with an arm along the top of the couch.
Mrs. Gilbert was smiling, which kind of seemed out of character as she stole a glance, looking at the big painting hanging over our heads at our backs, then at me again. Kneeling there, Mrs. Gilbert towered over me with everything on display as she poked my cheek with a pointer finger when my gaze travelled around the living room. Her breasts were level with my face semi-full, just a bit of sag you would have to be looking for to notice. She cupped the underside of the right breast rolling and pinching her own nipple, then handled my endowment casually playing with it. Mrs. Gilbert was still wearing her heels.
“You don’t mind, do you?” She motioned towards my endowment, seeming to have regained her composure a little.
“Not at all, Mrs. Gilbert.” Her brow furrowed as she slid her fist from stem to stern jerking on my prick.
“Angela, my name is not Mrs. Gilbert; I think you’ve earned the right to speak informally with me.
“Uhm, thanks; for uh, letting me say your first name, ma’am.” Her brow furrowed again.
“You make me feel like a dirty old woman calling me ma’am, but I like this down here.” Mrs. Gilbert aka Angela kowtowed over my lap cupping my balls. It looked as if she were praying as I felt myself engulfed in her mouth with that same sort of rough head game. The sound was this weird sort of gulping, almost choking sound as Angela unveiled another aspect to her sexual repertoire.
Her teeth scraped across my shaft albeit lightly alternated with more sustained slurping and jerky head sucking. Her butt was high in the air, but her height and lean stature was just out of reach considering her posture. I settled for playing with a breast wantonly squeezing it akin to a doctor taking someone’s blood pressure.
My prick fattened in her gullet coming to full attention so hard it felt like a steel rod had been inserted inside it. She released me cupping her hand under her chin, catching the excess saliva and reapplying it lovingly to my tumescence until it glistened. She was focused on the task eventually noticing me with a wanton smile, kind of flushing.
“I need some more of this, if you don’t mind?” Angela framed it as a question but mounted me in a sitting squat with both feet planted flat on the outside of my thighs. She was already breathing hard reaching between her thighs pressing me against her slit. Once the crown was inside, Angela let her dead weight drive the rest deep inside bouncing in my lap. Before I could make any sound, we were making out like old lovers with Angela taking over more aggressively now that she was comfortable.
Her breasts were bouncing on her chest almost hypnotically. This wasn’t just pogo stick bouncing, but a continuous series of deep penetrating squats that had me on the verge of climaxing ten minutes in. Angela’s tight, toned bubble was clapping on the base of my cock taking me there as she noticed the strained expression on my face leaning in huffing gusts of lust heated air in my face.
“I’m infertile which means you can cum as much as you like inside, just fill me up to the brim. I’m going to enjoy this young dick all day until I’ve had enough. There’s no one here but us, right? We’re alone, right?”
“Yeah.” I groaned five minutes later while shooting streams of cum painting the inside of her snatch.
Angela Gilbert was Charity’s mom through and through, certified. It seemed I’d unlocked something usually kept in check for the most private of moments. I climaxed two more times as she rode me to nirvana using a variety of speeds, even kneeling with both knees outside my hips so that she could roll and saw my cock into raw hamburger. The kissing and making out was constant as she wrapped those toned muscular arms around my neck. We were both drenched in perspiration, lost in our own little bubble.
I couldn’t stop comparing her to Charity, her infamous daughter.
“What?” Angela noticed.
When I didn’t answer, she pressed a thick chewy nipple into my mouth mashing her chest against my face until I sucked of my own free will. Her hands were roaming everywhere rubbing my biceps, forearm, chest abdomen in-between kissing me torridly. It was starting to feel like I was struggling to keep up as thoughts of Mr. Gilbert filled my mind. Visions of him bursting in with a twelve gauge filled my mind.
“I know this sounds crazy, but it feels like your dick just got harder.” Her stuffy tone and way of speaking went out the window as she planted her feet on the cushions grabbing my shoulders. Angela started long stroking me with her snatch rising until the head of my member nearly plopped out, only to slam all her weight into my lap repeatedly. I felt like a sentient Bow flex, a living carnival ride or cock carousel incarnate. This woman was in her late forties or early fifties treating me like a two-dollar whore.
“AW DAMN ANGELA!!” I shouted out of nowhere as my head dipped back hitting the wall.
“Oh.” She reached back palming my noggin reacting humorously to the accident pressing a finger to her lips as she disengaged and knelt beside me again. Her hand returned to my member not so much playing with it, just admiring it.
Angela cradled my head to her bosom lightly stroking my tumescence which was throbbing in her thin hand.
“So, would you like me to suck you off, or is there someplace else you want to cum?”
I looked at her for a second, then facepalmed making her chortle.
“Come on, you can tell me; I want to satisfy you.” Angela was wholly energized, even running the flat of her tongue along the side of my face.
My eyes rolled in her direction then went the opposite direction.
“Oh, okay.” Angela had this half smirk of understanding running her fingers through her hair.
This really was Charity Gilbert’s mother.
Angela stood up offering her hands leaning back as I was pulled into a standing position before leading me to the bathroom where she planted me bare assed on the closed toilet. She stripped off my shirt making me nude as she reached into the shower turning on the water keeping eye contact. Her cut athletic figure was striking as the mature stepped out of her heels one after the other tossing them into the sink before stepping inside under the steaming spray. I watched her bathe and lather up smiling.
“So, this is just between us, okay?”
“Uhm, okay.”
“I mean it and stop looking at me like you’ve never seen a naked woman before; I guess it’s because I’m Charity’s mother, right?”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“Maybe you didn’t expect an old lady to have a body like this.”
“I’ve seen you naked before.”
“Excuse me?” She stopped with a towel between both hands looking at me with a raised brow.
“Well, kind of because it was a painting; back in your old house, in one of the bedrooms. The one that used to belong to Charity.”
“My daughter showed you that portrait?”
“Not intentionally.”
“You know, that’s the only thing Fernando took when he left me. Now its hanging in some fat bitch’s house, a source of utter humiliation due to the other partners at my former firm seeing it at a dinner party I obviously wasn’t invited to. They wanted me to feel like I was being thrown back onto the streets, like trash. My enemy wanted that vacated slot and she wanted to stick it to me in the process.”
“Sorry.” I offered, showing a bit of compassion before I could catch myself.
She didn’t react standing there in the shower drifting off inside her head. This was a woman in freefall grabbing for straws as the concrete rushed in to give her a big wet sloppy kiss. Finding out the man she’d discarded at the onset of her years long prosperity was getting married, set her off. I suspected Angela was likely coming over to seduce Mr. Gilbert away from Tressie. I knew the man. He would’ve been insulted to the core and would’ve booted her. Tressie, well it would’ve been a bloodbath catfight of epic proportions.
“Are you going to come in here with me and get this ass?” I did a doubletake making her laugh.
“Well, if you put it that way.”
I joined Angela under the steaming spray getting catered to wholly by Charity’s mother who soaped and washed my body with an unexpected attention to detail that bordered on the obsessive-compulsive side. Every inch of me was scrubbed and caressed ending with her hand around my endowment from the back stroking away from my body towards the mint-colored tiles with that soapy hand towel. My moans seemed to energize Angela more and more as she added a twist of the wrist to her actions.
“Damn, you’re really good at that ma’am.” I moaned feeling it all over my crotch.
“What did I tell you about that “ma’am stuff” young man; would you like me to stop right before you cum? Some men like ruined orgasms, but not many. When I was in college, a boyfriend axed himself out of a good evening by throwing a temper tantrum and knocking over some things in my apartment. I just watched amused, until he calmed down a bit then asked him if he was finished “acting out” before playing with his big dick until morning! Afterwards, I ghosted him for six weeks.”
“How’d that turn out?”
“You’ve met our daughter, haven’t you?”
“SHIT!” Angela snickered, tilting her head between my shoulder blades, going harder with the obvious intent of getting me off.
“Stop making me laugh; I bet you’ve never met a woman who likes playing with dick as much as I do, huh?”
“Well as a matter of fact, I know one… Angela.” I raised an eyebrow when her hand stopped moving telling me she got the dig at her first and only born. Unexpectedly Angela hooked her chin over my right shoulder looking at my profile.