I

Been there done that.

I'm happy for my best friend Cleopatra.  She and her long lost love and father to her son (my godson) Jonathan are finally a family.   Well, since Jonathan isn't a baby anymore, she's tucked in some love shack down in the Bahamas, on honeymoon.   Yes...it's where they met.   So I understand the nostalgia of it all.   When she returns we've got a huge bash to roast these two love birds.   She's happy...I'm happy.  They are love.

I'm not trying to go down that road again...been there, done that!

John Santi, my new bro-in-law's best bud Brett was looking quite special at the wedding in his tan linen slacks and white linen cabana shirt.   Hard to believe he flew all the way down there without his wife.   If he divorces her, then too bad for that lying ass bitch, she deserved worse.  

Lies will screw you over badly.  I can tell you firsthand about how I lived one.  Oh...I'm now divorced.  

Yep.   I was the devoted wife.   I worked hard, though my former named Fred always deemed me a spoiled brat.  I was born into money.  My father was a successful legal advisor for the city of Detroit.   My mother was a homemaker, so being a working wife and mother wasn't what I had aspired to be.   But he wanted to play sax, trumpet, and french horn.   He wanted to be an artist.   That was his A, B, and C plan.

Never will forget the day I met him.   I was running on vapors.  You know one of those really shitty weeks at work.  Celebrating an end to hell week, I decided to walk from city hall down to BoMac's Lounge-a cute little spot on Grand River that played live music and served soul food.  I was practically disgusted with working the grind.  I'd spent a summer home and fell in love with my godson Jonathan.  I looked into his huge brown eyes and knew college was going to have to wait.  I wasn't college material anyway.  Who was I fooling?   Now his mother Pat, she was a walking brain, gifted.  She moved back home and I decided to be his full time nanny while Pat attended school.  Here I was fully happy with using her and J as my excuse for not having goals.   Pat told me one night she came in from work that I was done sitting for her; Jonathan was starting nursery school in January, which gave me two months to either enroll in classes or take the city internship my dad's influences afforded me.

Again, school wasn't for me.  So I took that job clerking in the city's accounting office.   Life was good.  I had my own money.   I didn't have to live hand to mouth any more, and my father had officially declared that I was back installed as his daughter.  I wasn't aware that no one gave a shit that my father was general counsel for the city.  I had to earn my stripes.  I went to work looking like a diva, came home looking like I had scrubbed floors.   Pumps working my damn toes, heels burned.   That shit was for the birds!

I'm not spoiled.  So don't even think that.

So I decided to put on my Chuck's (Chuck Taylor) All-Stars and head out for a drink, some jazz, and maybe a little bite to eat.   Pat was visiting her mother in Chicago for the weekend so the place would be empty.  If I hated work, Jonathan's sweet kisses in the morning and yelling 'Way up Anjay...way up!'  were all the love I needed.  Since I wouldn't have his precocious ass prying my eyelids open in the morning, I decided to kick it for a while, sleep in on Saturday.

Well...it was the night I met the man I married.  I walked into BoMac's and saw this piss colored cat sitting nervously at the bar.  He was about to go on, I later found out.  But let me tell you the story first because I think I fell in love that very night.   So, Mac, co founder of the club was shitting bricks because the line up for the night decided to go on the road with the MotorTown Review and that left my future husband Frederick a huge gaping spot to fill.  No one knew his pale ass from a hole in the wall.  And his blue eyes gave them the willies.  The crowd was light, after work but he'd be charming the hardest patrons...the after work affair.  That's the group I belonged to who came in busted and disgusted from the boss chewing your ass and daring anyone to make you laugh or give you a fresh beat to shake your money maker to.  

I took a seat at the bar because I didn't want to sit alone at a table by myself and have some group come in eyeing me for benevolence.   The bar is where you get free drinks any way so I wasn't complaining.   The sweat beaded his forehead like a rash.  He was either sick with fright or was coming down with the worse case of influenza ever-the season was in.

Either way, he'd make an even shittier week funkier if he threw up on me.   But I'm friendly.   I didn't win class popular for nothing.   "Hi...is this seat taken?"

He did a double take like I had a booger hanging out of my nose.   A menacing frown slid to a nervous smile.   "Now it is..."

The bartender bee-lined over and I ordered a rum and coke.  He was having something with orange juice.  "So who's playing tonight?"  I asked.

"Some cat named Chicago Blues..."

"Is he any good?" 

"I think that it's his first time."

"Oh shit...really.  Thanks for the warning."  The bartender sat my drink on a cocktail napkin and gave me a wink.  Some dirty old man across the way gave a nod.  See I told you the bar is the spot.  Drinks all night, no money spent.

We talked a little more.   And the beads started to dissipate.  We were laughing, drinking, and nibbling chicken wings with a whole lot of hot sauce.   The room was getting darker Bobbi (Bo) took the mic.   She was a dancer and choreographer now club owner.  Dressed in an emerald green sparkling gown, silver pumps and matching gloves, the crowd went wild when she did a little two step.   I went to the lavatory to release that second rum and coke while she wowed the crowd with her dance.  When I returned my companion was gone.   And some guy, I suppose was Chicago Blues was playing Kind of Blue to an awestruck crowd.  

I sat there thinking wow...this new guy had big lungs.   The bartender called me a cab and before the cab arrived he handed me this napkin.   It read... 'thank you, my good luck charm' -Chicago Blues.

Well what do you know?  It seemed as if that talk about everything but a whole lot of nothing seemed to calm his jitters.   My companion was the gifted trumpeter on his first turn on the hot seat.

Well, I continued to frequent BoMac's after work on Wednesdays and Fridays.   Frederick "Chicago Blues" Mallet and I began dating.  His horn sung me to sleep after he laid some serious pipe.   I know.   For a high yellow cat under six feet, he had many gifts.   The family jewels were likely one of his best kept secrets. 

He broke many dates with me as his popularity grew.  When gigs were slow, we spent a lot of time together.   Then when the phone rang, we hardly saw each other.   I got fed up, threatened to move on without him.  Finally we married at the city hall and he rode right out of town on a gig playing with the Funk Brothers from Hitsville twenty minutes later.  That damn Berry and his big ideas of making movies took my Freddie to L.A.  Between road trips and love making, he fitted me well with three kids.  Our first was Finola then Farrah.  And the day I found out he was cheating, I also received the news that I was pregnant with our third child, a son we named Frederick Jr.  "Ricky".

Throughout the years of our marriage, it was I who helped him follow his dreams.   I supported the family-all of us when the gigs went flat while he lived on the road, headlining for Miles, Ella, and Ramsey.   How dare he cheat on me after all I was, and had sacrificed for him? 

Music was always his first love.   I was simply the affair he eventually married.  Any woman who thinks she can come between a man and his ax, she can forget it.   To play that well, they likely fuck their instruments.   If they are with you, then they think they're cheating on her.   I know all about that.   My dad was in a band during high school.  But his parents, my grandparents told him to finish that dream once he completed law school.   In undergrad, he met my mom and she said she could stay at home with her parents rather than be alone while he chased music fantasies.   I couldn't wait to get out of my parents house.   So living on my own was the only choice for me.

Well Fred and I are divorced now, like I said.  I put up with enough.  My children have a half brother named Quincy.   His mother is white.   With Fred's blue eyes and her genetics, Quincy didn't have a chance.   He passes.   Let's leave it there.

I think after the affair, I checked out mentally.  I maintained the distant relationship we had for the sake of the kids.  Hell he was gone so much they wouldn't have known if we were still married or not.   We were divorced three years before we told the kids.   He'd come to town and we conducted ourselves like we were still married.   We did family things and it was a sham we both knew we were trying to pull off.   See, nothing different since the ink dried.   I dated however, on the quiet tip and from time to time Fred would serenade me as he had done so many times before.   My pussy would quiver and soon we were sweating, breathing heavy, and slapping thighs.   What can I say?  I love big dick.  And he can put it down.  

Still couldn't believe he presented the papers served over lunch.  Can you believe that?  In a public place, atop the Renaissance Center, like that would have been safe?  Shit, I thought about tossing his ass out of the window.   He would have played some helly notes on his fall from over 700 feet.   My eyes welled and when I finally had the words memorized that he had just said, I considered stabbing his ass with my fork.   But then I looked into his sorry assed face and saw my children.   And suddenly an Angel appeared over his shoulder, and saved his high yellow butt from the throes of death.

It took a while to come to reality, but the marriage was dead long ago.  It just took him to tell me that it was stinking and needed a proper burial.

I was finished long ago sad to say.   It took me seventeen years to accept it.   He saved me when he personally served me.  I would have never let him go.   He was the father of my children, the love of my life, flaws, big dick and all.

I won't do that shit again; get so lost in the State Fair that I forget the rides eventually come to a stop.   The park eventually closes...and it's now been seven years since I became unwedded.  I still love him; we are the best of friends.   Did I tell you he has a six month old baby?

Yes...Farrah, Finola, and Fred Jr. have a baby sister to go along with Quincy.   She has his blue eyes too.   I guess it was the dominant trait since her mother is blond and blue like Q's mom.

II

Seven years ago my marriage ended.   And I hate to admit it but it's true.  I still get a tightening in the chest thinking of the day.   So instead of drinking like a bitch for the seventh anniversary of our last goodbye, I have a date with myself.  Hell yes.   My hair cut is short, sassy, and fierce just like me.  I have a fresh pedi and mani, all cause I'm going out for a night on the town.   Sure am.   I bought myself a $115 ticket to see 'Dreamgirls' Live at the fabulous Fox Theatre.   Hell, I'm worth it.   I have a dazzling red dress, some kick ass stiletto sandals, and showing all the assholes just what they won't be getting.   Dinner before, cocktails at intermission, I am going all out tonight! 

I even sent myself a bouquet of long stem red roses.   Beautiful aren't they?   Thought so!

Fuck driving, blow parking.   I'm taking a limo.   He'll be here in 5, will retrieve me at 8:10 and will be whisking me off to the Athenaeum Hotel afterwards, where I'll be getting pampered and massaged in the morning.

I own the concept of dating single.   Shit I've been rehearsing this role for all my years married.   Fred was always gone.   And I always knew how to have a great time by myself.   I was weaned on headlining parties because of my dad entertaining big city cats and all.

Limo's almost here.   Dinner first, so I'll catch you at intermission.

***

End of Act One

Laughing silly, that damn Effie is royalty I swear.   Ok, now its intermission and I need to get a drink.   I love that song 'And I Am Telling You!'  I used to think no one could belt it out like the one and only Jennifer Holiday.  But New York's got some pipes.   Well I must say that everyone looks the part tonight.   Only fifteen minutes.   I'm taking this drink straight down the hatch and make a potty stop.  

I glimpse down at the program while waiting in line, and who the fuck do you think I see listed in the horn section.  Damn this is a curse!  Why! Why! Why!  Ok.  Rant over.   Funny I wasn't looking for him when watching the stage.  The orchestra pit is rather dark so you can't really see anything unless you're in the first five rows.  Damn! 

Ok.  This is not going to ruin my night.  Oh the hell it is.  Now I have to try to concentrate on the show, knowing his pale yellow ass is sitting in the same room with me.   What the hell did I do wrong?

Oh that's it, thank you God for pointing that out to me, now I know all your mysterious ways.  

"Rum and Coke please!"  I should make it a double.  Damn!  Ok.  I really need to stop swearing in my head because God can hear me.   Ok...relax.   Maybe I shouldn't even drink.  Fuck no.  I'm drinking.  Oops.  Sorry God.  Ok.   Get a grip!   Relax.  Relate.  Release.   "Thank you...can I get another?"  Why is he looking at me like I said this is a stick up?  I don't want to drink the tap dry.  I just need to down two, really fast to numb this feeling that I'm about to freak out and ruin what's left of my evening.  

Lights flashing, five minutes.  The line is long, what?  Ok.  Any minute now I'm going to burst.   Hurry up lady.   No body's looking at you; I've got another drink to buy.  That will be three.  Dang that R/C was delicious.  I think I'm almost there.  Yep, because I can barely hear the sound of my own voice.

***

She's changing?  I'm changing Effie...I swear, I won't sleep with another woman's man.  Oops!  Did I just say that aloud?   Alright.  I did it!  Ok.  He was so.   H mm.   Ok you remember me saying I went down to the Bahamas for my best friend's wedding?  Well I wasn't intending on sleeping with anyone's husband, so let's get that one out there right up front and out of the way.   I was fully prepared to board that plane and come back home that night.   It was an expensive retreat but my girl Pat is worth it.  After all she was marrying the love of her life.   So I was feeling a little nostalgic myself, sitting at the beach front cabana staring out at the ocean and he came up and sat next to me.   Brett Blanchard.

He stole my line.  Sexy, smelling so good, we were both laughing and chattering away about the senior trip, the way Brian kept wincing when he tried to kiss Tracy and the way those two characters, our best friends-Pat and John fell in love.   Bahamas is a special place.   We walked along the beach laughing and sharing our worst ways of falling in love starring us.   I didn't need much replay on Brett.  His wife was a co-conspirator to my girl's heartache.   I thought instantly when I saw his sexy ass at the wedding that I would love to nail him and really good.  Best revenge on that troll would be to wrap his dick in some smooth dark chocolate covered berry.  

But he was so nice and such a gentleman that I couldn't do that to him, you know confuse him some more.  So he walked me to my hotel suite and that look he gave me made my pussy wet.  He kissed my cheek and I creamed my panties.   "Goodnight"  He said and kissed my hand.   That should have been the last word, last sight of him.   But me with my horny ass and thinking about the stories we shared of some of the best years of our lives, I simply didn't want that night to end at least not alone.   I tugged him or should I say, refused to let his hand go.  He caught the momentum and captured my lips.   We pushed the door inside and the next thing I knew his face was buried in between my legs.   I wondered just why he didn't or couldn't lay pipe that night.  I guess he was feeling guilty.  He still had some unresolved issues to deal with in his marriage. 

Brett can eat pussy.  That's all I'm saying.

Ok...one more thing and then I'm finished with all of the sexy details.   I have to tell you this because it's been a fantasy of mine ok, like ever since his friend Rudy fingered me at Senior Trip, I always had this thing secretly about white boys.  I had always heard that they made cunnilingus an art form.   Well I can't speak for all of them but that one ate my pussy so damn good, I was coming from coming.   I nearly had a heart attack.   There's nothing like having your pussy eaten by a man who does it because he likes it, not just because he thinks he's doing you a favor.

If he laid pipe half as good I think the world would have stopped.   I never came so much in all of my life.  Not even by my ex-Fred.  He was a decent muff diver but I got tired of asking.   Brett seemed like a man that made eating pussy a part of his diet.  For breakfast-eggs, bacon, toast, and some pussy juice, and then lunch with pussy and dinner too.   Pussy on crackers, hold the peanut butter.   You feel me?

So after he lapped and ate my soaked pussy dry, I did him.   Ok.  I can suck his dick can't I?  I didn't fuck him!  Shit!  Beautiful...in a word.   I had always been curious as I told you to what a white man's dick looked like.   And his wasn't very long, not like a porn star.  But it was average, thick and curved back towards him like a banana.   Damn!  I wanted to fuck it so bad that my pussy got wet just feeling it.   My hands stroked it and it was a struggle with that erect tool whose head was pointing at his navel.   And he smelled so good too, like a mixture of musky male with Calvin Klein's Obsession, for men of course.   I loved watching his eyes roll back.   Being a champion pussy eater himself, made me slightly embarrassed of my less than stellar deed.   But by the look of his shut lids and prayerful moans, I must have been doing something right.

It wasn't that pale pink I had heard about.  It was tan.   After he came I kissed him and tasted the essence of him.   I wanted to ride that arc until my pussy quivered some more.   But he kissed my forehead and then my lips, sucked my nipples.  But he couldn't have sex with me.   He felt guilty for having gone as far as he did.   But he never cheated on his wife before and they were still very much together though sleeping in separate bedrooms. 

I wasn't sure if it was the head I gave him, or his admission that his wife never liked it that turned me on more.   No wonder he was having a conniption when he came all over himself.  Poor guy was thrown over just by the sheer willingness on my part.   I can't help it.  I wanted him to feel the way he made me feel.   I still do.   And I'm not talking about the oral pleasuring either.

We made the best of the rest of the night by ordering food to my room and watching old movies from the 80's brat pack like St. Elmo's fire, The Big Chill, and Taps.  Our friendship was sealed in that moment.   That was just a week ago.   And I still tear up when I talk about it.  

Thanks a lot Effie Melody White, change is overrated!   Good show though!

III

If Only for One Night

So the limo ride was short from Fox to Athenaeum.   I am here curb side before I can down three mints.   My breath was kicking.   A dragon laid eggs, and died in my mouth, I'm telling you.   But at least I didn't have to see my ex hubby right?

A courier brought my overnight luggage up to me from the hotel's storage.   I am glad to be off my feet.  Cute shoes, but my puppies are tired.   So like a country ass woman I'm stepping out of them on the ride up the elevator.   Only to the second floor but what a relief being out of those shoes!  Ding.  I'm here.  Doors open.   Which way to my Governor's Suite?   That's right I said it.  I told you I was having the night of my life.   Ok...I could have sworn that was Lorrell Robinson from Dreamgirls walk past me.   Ok.  I'm losing my mind.   Right? 

I'm glad I took these shoes off, shit.   My room is a country mile from the elevator.   No I'm not losing my mind because that is Deena Jones, or the actress that played her.  What's her name...oh never mind.  The point is this, I need to hurry up and get to my room fast because I swear...

"Jessy?"

Fuck!

"Jessy, I thought that was you.   Wow!  You look, sensational."

"Fred, what brings you to town?"  Shut up!  It's called playing coy, like you've never pretended to be stupid under duress.

We hug...damn he smells so good, after all of that playing too.    He kisses my cheek.   I fake happy to see him.   Omen 2.  

"How's the kids?" 

"Good."

"They didn't tell you I was coming to town for Dreamgirls?"

No they left out that little bit of info.   Just wait until I get home.   Dreamgirls...wow! So does that mean everything is going well?  First thing I need to get straight.  He's not a dead beat dad.  I never bothered with the Child Support thing because personally I think it's a crock and wouldn't work for me.  For some women its gold, without it, I believe I have the platinum package.   My children have wanted for nothing.  Fred's children are his.  He takes care of them all.  My money is an allowance to them.  Always been that way.  Even down to that apartment Finola and Farrah share in the vicinity of Spellman's campus, and the food bill I stare at till I go blind from shock courtesy of that growing weed of a son, Jr., Fred covers it all, floor to ceiling.  We have never had to fight.  If they want something they ask.  He confers with me first and I give the go ahead.  They still don't know I'm Boss Lady.   I don't mind if they think that he calls the shots.  Fred and I know who is boss.

"No..." 

"Well, I'm pretty well...I can't complain.  Oh.   Ricky wants a cell phone.  But..."

"...are we discussing this in the hallway...right here...right now?"

"Is it a problem Jess because if it is...it's tanked, done deal."

"That's not what I mean.  Never mind.  He can have the phone.  His grades are good."

"Fine..."

"Fine..."  I try to look away.   But I can't because I'm so fuckin' weak.  Why is he staring at me like that? Ok.  Maybe it's because I'm barefooted.

"Everything ok?"

"Yes Fred, all is good."

"Don't let me keep you then.  You do look very beautiful.  I didn't mean to interrupt you."

Ok...so why does he always make me feel guilty for wanting a life that doesn't include running a detail itinerary of each other's plans?  I hate that look...

"Good night Fred."

"Goodnight Jess."  Ugh...I hate it when he calls me that.  I need to get to my room quick, so I can scream in a pillow, rob the mini bar, and soak my feet in ice water.  

***

Shit.  Nothing's on until eleven.  I'm sure I'll be sleep by then.   In the meantime, I'm taking a shower and ordering room service, and try hard to pray this aberration away.   Set my clock for 8 am because my masseuse will waiting for me at exactly 8:15.  

Now who the hell is that?

Just a second, I yell.  

"What's up?"  It's my ex, the baby daddy...still paying for that banana I ate.  Omen 3.

"Jess, I need to talk to you about something.  Is it okay if I come in?"  Sure, of course, turn my suite into your private dumping ground.  I am going to church next Sunday.   Make it bible study on Tuesday.   I just realized I have that luncheon thing for outgoing Mayor Archer.   Damn shame he isn't running for office again.  I understand why he won't though.  Ungrateful assed citizens, they'll wish they had been more appreciative of his efforts.  Kwame will fuck us over really badly.  I tell you that the city is about to go to hell if they vote that kid into office. Remember you heard it from me first...that kid is trouble!

"Sure..."  He takes off his shoes.  Still does that.  Unbuttons the top button of his shirt, ok you're not at home!   "Everything ok Fred?"

"Jess..."  I roll my eyes.  I really do hate that name.  Throw an 'e' on the end...do me this one solid!  "I just need to be with family right now...I don't know how to say this."

"Well...have a seat."   See now I'm worried.   In all of the years I've known him I have to admit he's never once shown a hint of defeat.  But his eyes wear worry like a cheap suit.  "You want something to drink?"

"No...no thank you." 

I sit on the sofa.   Now I'm a good listener, Fred knows that.  But I am not about to pull twenty questions to get him to lay down his burden.  Whatever it is...I'm sure it's solvable.

"I think I have...I never knew what a good thing I had with you.  And I really appreciate the way we've been able to communicate openly and honestly with each other.  But..."

Ok it's a little too late in the evening for such a serious conversation.  My eyes have darn near rolled backwards in my head, so much that I can see my thoughts.  I need sleep.  Not this.  Fred go count sheep or something!

"Fred, what is it?"

"...this isn't your problem, I'm going leave...let you get back to what you were doing.  It's obvious that I'm imposing...I'll go."  And then gets up?  Oh hell no muthafuckah, you aren't gonna come tapping on my door bring me out of my meditation to walk out of here and go to sleep, while I'm up half the night plucking my mind over what's got your head caving inwards.  Hell no!

"...Fred, wait.  You came to my door, so obviously something has got your head spinning.   So sit down, and get on with it so both of us can sleep."  See this is just the kind of shit he'd do when we were married. I swear musicians are way too deep for my daily routine.   It's so classic Fred to drop bomb residue then leave for the road and have me twisting in the wind wondering if the house was in foreclosure, or the car was being repossessed.   Then he'd return to say, oh that was nothing Jess...so tonight he's going to spill it.   Because I sure know he didn't come here just to tell me I was the best thing that ever happened to him.

"Ok...I'm just gonna come out with it..."  Oh fuck he isn't gay is he?  You see another one of my BFF's named Curtis who is a straight up sugar foot, told me that Fred had suspicious eyes.  I told him that it was the reefer.  "...I um, I've been plucking my mind all week.  I haven't been working and now finally I've got a really cool gig while I can get in the studio and here comes the one thing I don't need."

"What's that?"

"Theresa tried to commit suicide right in front Bristol."  Oh no he's crying too.  Shit this is really fucked up.   Theresa is his last baby mother.   She obviously had a screw loose.  I tried to tell him that.  But you know men; always think you're being a hater.  Then he gets her pregnant and discovers her mother board has a short circuit.   And Bristol, that's his six month old.  She's a doll baby.   Big blue eyes, blond curly hair, and simply amazing, surely an innocent bystander to this train wreck she was born into.  I haven't seen her since she was three and half months old.   I have a kindling for babies born in extreme circumstances.   So that I don't lay awake at night with her on my list of worries, I don't encourage him by asking about her too much.   But she's always on my mind.  Fred's been plucked one key too many.   Poor baby, Bristol.   These adults are playing with her precious life.

"You know Illinois...they don't play with that kind of shit Jess.  I don't want my baby in foster care...I don't know what to do."

"Try growing up a little Fred.  Get custody.  With this latest incident I don't see the difficulty in it.   Maybe now you will get to parent full time and see how hard it is."

"I think I already do."

"Welcome to parenting!  Enjoy your stay...serving headaches, sleepless nights, and a few Betty Ford prompts.  Check out time...never!"

"You and your mouth..."

"You used to love it."  I smirk.  My goodness I hate that he still gets to me. 

"Still do..."

"Don't go there Fred.  I've had a long day.  Go solve a real problem like world hunger."  I stand up because he really needs to get out of here.   I'm horny, he's got my kitty purring, and trouble is coming if I don't...here he comes.

"Alright...I suppose that the custody thing is doable.  I'm just sick knowing that Bristol has a mother that can't cope with life.   Hell you think its easy living on tour buses and in hotels?"

"I wouldn't know Fred.   But I can tell you that not everyone embraces parenting.  Children aren't adult accessories.  It's hard work."

"I really appreciate you more than you think."

"I know..." Ok...door.  I try to get over there before he looks at me another second.   "I know."  Ok I do the warm hug thingy and he's hugging a little too long.   I don't want to pull away rudely because I know he's going stir crazy over the Theresa shit.  But...no, oh fuck!

"H mm"  Gawd this man can kiss.  And I'm horny too.   Today is the anniversary of the day he served me.   And, oh...shit.

"Fred...don't."  I'm begging him to get out of here.   I should be pissed that he's trying to get me stirred up.   But like I told you Fred and I have always remained each other's booty calls over the years.  Nothing extreme, but if the mood hit, we didn't resist it.   He just better eat this pussy really good or he can forget thinking about putting that...oh.   No he isn't pressing my hand to it.   I remember...I remember how it felt!  Shit!   Ok...we know how this is going.   Oh...there's little talking as you can see.  Once we hit the zone, we know talking will fuck with the flow.   No point in fighting it.  His fingers are stroking my kitty.   And I'm so damn wet.  I can lie and say I don't want it.  But he'll know it's a moot point.   Oh what the hell.  He's not married.  I'm not cheating.  And the dick is good.   Ok...I can't talk anymore because he's bringing the A game.   Well it's just for one night only!  Right?

THE END