Z-Rated (Chocolate Flava 3)

“Party on, man,” the guy said to Phil as he thrust into my mouth. I shivered because I knew now I’d get the beating I’d been promised with Phil’s perfectly vicious, beautiful belt. Party on. Exactly.

Mea Culpa

Zane

This is my confession.

I’ll admit it. I used to be one of the main people talking shit about trifling-ass men and how they can never manage to keep their dicks in their pants. All of my girlfriends, aunts, and female cousins had a variety of dogs lying up in their cribs. My aunt Delores had a black and tan coonhound named Thomas. Black hair, tan skin. He was powerful and agile, at times outgoing and stable, but when it came to keeping his dick in his pants, he was aggressive and vicious. He had something crazy like five kids outside of their eight-year relationship. I wondered when the hell he had time to fuck her if he was doing all that raw-dogging.

My cousin Sheila had a Brazilian Terrier named Davi, imported straight from Santa Catarina—they met while she was on vacation in Brazil. Once she moved his ass to the States, he became restless and started hunting small game, a.k.a. petite, thirsty chicks. Three weeks after she helped him obtain his green card, he left her for a four-foot-eleven, 90-pound, nineteen-year-old who, according to him, didn’t have a gag reflex while sucking his dick like Sheila did. Can you imagine a man coming home and saying some shit like that while he is packing? He wouldn’t have had to pack shit up in my crib; I would have tossed his ass right out the damn window!

Then there was the Alaskan Malamute my best friend, Judy, had on a leash for a hot second. She assumed that since his well-muscled, heavy-bone behind had spent his early years out in the middle of nowhere, chilling in igloos and riding bobsleds to school, that he would be devoted and trustworthy. Not! He was the alpha male of all motherfucking alpha males and when she bored him, he was prone to aggression. In other words, he started beating her ass. Now, by this point, she was completely dick-whipped and no one could tell her a thing about her relationship without practically getting their head snapped clean off. I spoke my mind once and left the entire display of “fuckery” alone. I loved my girl but if she wanted to deal with Kuvageegai—hell of a name, right?—instead of sending his ass back home to hunt seals, it was on her.

Eventually, Judy learned her lesson; they all did. They ended u

p jumping from man to man, looking for that pipe dream of a financially and mentally stable soul mate that would be exclusive to their pussies. I used to believe in fairy tales, too—for a hot minute. But I came to my senses after I went through a quick, successive series of breeds—a Boston Terrier, an Australian Kelpie, and a Chesapeake Bay Retriever. Then I decided I simply wanted to go to work every day, make a good life for myself, and fuck whom I wanted when I wanted.

However, even that should have had its limits and it’s the reason why I need to confess. After Judy got rid of “the motherfucker with the long-ass name,” she went through about nine or ten guys and then ended up shacking, within a matter of months, with William. Now, William had it going on, in all areas. He was about six foot two and beautiful, way past handsome. I couldn’t even call him that. He had this smooth, dark skin that was like being gifted a year’s worth of Godiva Chocolates. He had this kinky, black hair that screamed for a sister to run her hands through it. And, most important, it was obvious that he was hung like a barnacle. Yes, a barnacle. Most women go around bragging about how their men are hung like horses or mules, but check this out. They’re not even in the top of the game. Damn shame I know this, but the barnacle has the biggest dick of any animal, followed by the Argentine blue-bill duck, a banana slug, a greater hooked squid, an African elephant, Colymbosathon ecplecticos, and a blue whale. Okay, so I was bored one day and looked that shit up. If I was going to be giving brothers mad props, I decided to get my knowledge straight.

Anyway, Judy had William, who was hung like a barnacle, and I was mad jealous. And I never got jealous. I’m not even sure how that happened, other than I was over their place one day, in the kitchen helping Judy peel some red potatoes to boil and mash for dinner, and that’s when I saw him; saw it. He was sitting on the sofa, at a good vantage point from where I was standing, drinking a beer while ESPN was playing, and staring dead at me. I almost cut my finger off with the potato peeler, I was so distracted by his mesmerizing eyes.

Our eyes locked while Judy was busy singing “We Found Love” by Rihanna. Little did I realize then that, like Rihanna, I was about to find love in a hopeless place. William broke our gaze and lowered his eyes to his crotch. I followed them and his dick was bouncing up and down in his pants like it had a mind of its own. Then again, I guess all men’s dicks have minds of their own. His was speaking to me … in tongues. It was calling my name, beckoning me to it and, if I hadn’t quickly regained my senses, I would’ve been over on that sofa in thirty seconds, ripping it out, and swallowing as much of it as I could cram into my mouth.

Somehow, we managed to get through dinner and then Judy and I went into the basement, curled up in a couple of throws, and watched two tearjerkers—Beaches and Imitation of Life—together, as we always did. It felt good to cry together during movies about women who had much bigger issues than us and managed to overcome them. It helped us keep things in perspective when horrific things happened, like our Facebook or Twitter accounts being locked for twenty-four hours because we requested too many friends or “twatchers,” or the nail salon having a two-hour waiting list for pedicures.

Judy dozed off halfway through The Stoning of Soraya M. and I realized that she was out for the night. There are people who sleep lightly and can be awakened by a moth pissing on a cotton ball inside the drywall and others who sleep so hard that someone would have to slam their heads with a hammer three or four times to get their attention. Judy was one of those.

I should have kept my ass right down there and finished watching the movie, or I could have taken my ass home but … I heard William rattling some pans around in the kitchen. Damn, was hung like a barnacle and did dishes, too! Hearing his footsteps and knowing that he was up there alone, both him and that huge tumor between his legs, made my pussy get the hiccups. My menstrual cycle was a day or two away so I was extremely emotional and even more horny that time of the month.

I cleared my throat, making sure Judy was as knocked out as I thought she was. She didn’t move. I took a few kernels of kettle corn and tossed them at her forehead. She grunted and wiggled her nose but that was it. I stood up and stared down at her, thinking, It’s not like he wasn’t going to cheat on you anyway.

When I got upstairs, William was putting the last of the glasses from dinner in the dishwasher.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked from the kitchen doorway.

He seemed startled. “Oh, hey, Marilyn.” He closed the dishwasher and turned it on. “No, I’m good, but thanks for offering.”

I put my hands on my hips and licked my lips seductively. “I have a lot of offerings.”

He blushed. Damn, dimples! I’m too through!

He didn’t respond but there was no need. It was obvious we were on the same page. I walked over to him by the sink and flicked the tip of my tongue over his lips. He spread them for me and I went in. Damn, and a fucking thick tongue to suck on my pussy!

We did a dance with both our bodies and our tongues for a few minutes. I debated about leading him to the bedroom but then decided, if I was going to go for it, why not the kitchen? After all, a lot of life-altering shit happens in kitchens across the globe. People make major life-decisions, they fight and argue, and even break up in kitchens. I had done all of the above in my lifetime but, as crazy as it sounded, I have never fucked in one. Now my pussy had the hiccups and asthma.

I broke the kiss and pulled William over by the table.

“Marilyn, we shouldn’t do this,” he protested … but only with his words.

I yanked his pants and boxers down in one swift movement. Then I sat down and gazed up into his eyes. “Are you telling me that you don’t want me to suck the skin off your dick?”

He sighed in defeat as I pushed his ass on the table, positioning him between my legs. The game was on. I grabbed his dick with both hands, spread my mouth open as far as I could and stuffed it with some delicious, protein-infused trouser snake.

“Ummm, ummm, ummm,” I moaned with delight, hardly believing how good he tasted to my palate. I took the mushroom head out for a minute. “You have an incredible dick, boo.”

“Glad you like it.” He glanced at the doorway. “You can have as much of this dick as you want.”

“I want it all, shit!”