Shattering the Myth (6 page)

Tyler wasn't home the night Norman called to break the news that Tracie was gone. He had taken our two sons, Aaron and Courtney, to a college basketball game. Norman seemed so upset that I decided I better go over and check on him in person. On the way over there, getting sexed by him never crossed my mind.

Within five minutes after I got there, however, I knew my ass was in trouble. There was something different about Norman that night. He seemed so sensitive, so vulnerable, and
so damn sexy. To me, nothing is sexier than a man expressing his true feelings, and that's what Norman did that night. He laid it all on the line.

When he started talking about how he planned on asking Tracie to marry him and have his kid, we both started crying. He laid his head in my lap while I cradled him in my arms like a baby. I began to wipe away his tears with my fingertips, but he took my hand and started sucking on my fingers. I was too through. Damn shame he did that. He started to try to go for a nipple through my blouse, and I pushed his head off my lap, proclaiming, “I have to go!”

I jumped up from his leather sofa and headed toward the front door of his apartment. He was on my tail, literally. When I reached the door, unlocked it, and tried to open it, he pushed it back shut. He pressed me into the door, and I could feel his dick piercing the small of my back. It was hard, and it was very, very big. I know I should have insisted on leaving. In fact, I told him, “I should leave. This isn't right.”

“No, this is very right.” He started sucking on my earlobe, drawing my hoop earring into his mouth along with the rest of it. When he stuck his thick, juicy tongue inside my ear canal, fucking was a done deal. He had found one of my spots. “Turn around, Janel.”

I turned around to face him, and before I made it all the way, he got down on his knees and started pulling my taupe gabardine skirt up over my thighs, exposing my off-white, thigh-high stockings with lace around the top and my off-white silk panties. All I could say at that point was, “Damn!”

He pulled my panties down. I lifted up my legs, one at a time, so he could get them over my taupe pumps and completely off. He pushed my left leg up and placed it gently on his right shoulder and began to lick my pussy lips with his thick
tongue. I was trembling all over, halfway because I felt guilty and halfway because I was feenin to see what was coming next.

I didn't have to wait long to find out. Norman carried me back into his living room with my legs straddled around his waist. He sat me down in his leather armchair, spread my legs open, and placed one over each arm of the chair. He lifted my hips up, scooting them forward a little so that my pussy was on the edge of the chair. After that, boyfriend dug into his meal, and all I could keep repeating was, “Damn! Damn! Damn!”

I guess you're wondering how I could let the godfather of my children suck on my pussy like that. Right? The answer is simple. It felt damn good. When he whipped his long, thick dick out, I didn't fret about that either. I just put my lips to the shit and went to work on that bad boy. Tyler's not hung like Norman, and I thought I was going to have problems taking it deep, but after a few moments of gagging and exerting much effort, I worked it like a master.

His dick was like a chocolate eclair. Chocolate on the outside and creamy on the inside. I contracted my cheek muscles around his dick, and all the blood rushed into it, causing the veins to bulge. I caught a good rhythm, and he started trembling, caressing the back of my neck with his fingertips and running his fingers through my hair. About fifteen minutes later, after almost developing lockjaw, he finally came. It was worth all the trouble because his cum was delectable.

I started taking my legs down, getting ready to get up and go home before Tyler and the boys beat me back. Norman stopped me. “No, wait, Janel. I'm not done with you yet.”

“This isn't right, Norman.” I was putting my legs down while he was steady holding them open. “We can't do this shit to Tyler.”

“Shit, we've already done it. No matter what happens from this point on, the dirty deed has already begun.” With my legs
still spread out over the arms of the chair, he pushed my back onto the chair and started unbuttoning my blouse. “I'm a breast man.”

That was all he had to say. My breasts are another one of my
spots
. “Is that right?”

“Damn skippy!” He got my blouse all the way open and unfastened the clasp in the front of my bra. He started palming both my tits at the same time. I was a helpless victim, so I put my hands behind my head and enjoyed the ride.

Norman suckled on my nipples for a couple of minutes and then did some deep-throating of his own. He pressed them together and sucked on them both simultaneously. I was so mesmerized by the way he was giving my tits the once-over, I never even saw the dick coming until it parted the lips of my pussy and directed itself all the way in. Norman helped a little, but his dick had a mind of its own.

With my hips still hanging over the edge of the chair and legs spread-eagled, he grabbed my ankles and pushed them as far apart as possible so he could tear my little ass up. I had never been fucked like that before. My inner thighs were shaking more than they did both times I gave birth. Having his huge dick inside me was like having labor pains all over again.

Norman started fucking me so fast and hard, I could feel and hear his balls slamming up against my buttocks. I started screaming,
literally
, because I couldn't handle the sex he was giving me. He had to let go of one of my ankles so he could cover my mouth before his neighbors called the police or alerted building security. That's how much he made me lose it. I was a fucking maniac and started biting on his hand to muffle my own screams. He didn't stop, nor did I want him to. He didn't stop until I came about three times. Then, he exploded inside me like a Mack truck hitting a brick wall at 100 mph.

He lay there on top of me with his knees still on the floor and his dick pulsating inside me for a few more minutes before I whispered, “I have to go, Norman.”

He didn't say another word while I got up and fixed my bra and blouse. I stopped near the front door to slip my panties back on, and as I headed out the front door, I looked back to see him sitting there in the armchair with his head buried in between his hands. For him, the guilt trip had already begun.

We have never mentioned it, nor do I plan to. I feel it's for the best. Norman has yet to get in another serious relationship since Tracie, and I see the way he looks at me whenever he comes over. I'm just grateful Tyler hasn't noticed it. As for me, I do have some guilt, but I just got caught up in the heat of the moment. With Tyler ignoring me half of the time, I look at it this way. If it had to be someone, I'm glad it was Norman.

Would I ever do it again? Absolutely not! Well,
probably
not. A girl has to have some scruples, you know?

Enough was enough! I had tried everything imaginable to get the brotha's attention short of hanging a
Take Me, I'm Yours
sign on my back. I first met Keanu when I took my little brother, Darwin, to the Cutting Edge Barbershop to get a fade one Saturday morning.

I sat there pretending to be enthralled in an issue of
Sports Illustrated
while all the men cackled on and on about this honie or that honie. Movie stars mostly who wouldn't give any of them nuccas the time of day. I would gladly invest in a vibrator before giving it up to any of their busted asses.

This one snaggletooth brotha was sitting in the corner, waiting his turn and bragging about how he could turn Halle Berry out. I started to interject my two cents and tell his ass to get real. There he was in his plaid shorts, white sleeveless undershirt, black penny loafers, and white tube socks with red stripes, bragging and boasting about how he could fuck a sista so hard that she would beg for mercy. I started to tell him, “A sista will simply look at your ugly ass and beg for mercy.”

By the time Darwin finally got into a barber's chair, I
couldn't take snaggletooth's bama ass anymore, so I told him, “Negro, please! No one wants your skank ass!”

That did it! I had managed to be incognito up until then, hiding behind the pages of the magazine. Once I spoke some words, it was like every nucca in the place suddenly noticed there was pussy present. All of them except for Keanu. His fine ass didn't even look my way. He was too busy shaping up this knucklehead who kept winking at me and doing that
I-want-to-lick-the-lining-out-your-pussy
motion with his tongue.

I don't know whether the pygmy in Keanu's chair drew my attention to him or the fact he didn't so much as give me a sideways glance, but I knew right then and there I had to have it.

I'm not sure how many of you sistas can relate, but there are times when you see something you simply must have, and you know from jump that you will move heaven, earth, and any hoes lurking around out the way to get it. That's how I felt when I first spotted Keanu.

About six-foot-two, café au lait, enough muscles to lend three other brothas some and still be the bomb-diggity, cinematic smile, neatly shaven, and bald as a baby's ass. Not the kind of bald where the nucca's head is shaped like a peanut or a gigantic, elephantine football, but the sexy kind of bald.

Before I could really get my erotic daydream going about his ass, Darwin's head was cut and the barber who cut it was in my face, holding his hand out for his ten bucks. The one who cut Darwin's hair, Randy, was not fine. In fact, his ass was not hitting on anything at all. His foul, au naturel breath made me want to shove a clove of garlic down his throat to improve the aroma.

When we walked by Keanu's chair on the way out, I tried to give him the eye. You know, the eye that tells a man you want to give him a candlelight bubble bath and then lick his ass dry? He didn't even glance my way. Now granted, I'm not the
finest sista on the planet, but I was accustomed to getting mad play, and frankly, I was offended by the fact he didn't even blink in my direction.

It was all good though, because by the time we walked the three blocks home, I knew Keanu's ass was in for it. I was going to get that dick if I had to camp outside of that barbershop and kick tramps to the curb to get to it.

The next day I waited for the shop to close. I was standing outside under a dim streetlight, with the hoochie dress of all hoochie dresses on, smiling and profiling for his benefit alone. He grinned at me and then walked in the other direction. I was about to follow him when this damn wino came up to me and offered to trade a half-empty bottle of Thunder-bird for a blow job. I missed my opportunity that night because I was too busy telling the drunken bastard to get the hell out of my face while Keanu was pulling out of the lot in his silver BMW Z3.

Okay, so maybe the all-out fuck-me-like-you-hate-me approach was a bit overkill. I decided to try the subtle approach next. I found out he attended Bethel Baptist Church and followed his ass there. I sat beside him in the pew, nonchalantly rubbed my thigh up against his, and even shared a hymnal with him while the congregation sang “Amazing Grace.” I thought I saw a glimmer of hope, but as soon as church service ended, he was ghost.

That's when I began to wonder if my honie was funny, but I quickly decided even if he was a homie-sexual, I was going to bring his ass on back to the nana. He was mine, all mine. He just didn't know it yet.

I masturbated day in and day out, thinking about Keanu. Something had to give. There are only two ways to deal with any type of frustration. You either have to accomplish your
goal or give up on the idea completely. The same rules apply to sexual frustration. I was not about to give up, so . . .

One Tuesday night, I waited until he was in the shop alone. In fact, he had already locked up for the night. At first, I tapped on the door lightly, like a cat scratching to get in, which was not that far off base because my kitty was damn sure purring. When he didn't answer the door, I banged the shit out of it until he raised the shade a little and peeked out.

He pointed to the sign on the door stating the hours of business, but I told him, “Please, I need to get a quickie!” I meant that shit literally, too.

Keanu unlocked the door and countered, “Miss, we're closed for the evening.”

“My name's Tammy, not Miss, and this won't take long. I just want a quick shape-up.”

We stood there staring in each other's eyes for a brief moment. I noticed his were a dark gray. My punnany heater meter went up ten degrees.

“Okay, I guess I can shape you up real quick.” He grinned at me and stepped aside to let me in.

Now ordinarily it would seem strange for a woman to go to a barbershop for a shape-up, but my do is short. Any shorter, and it wouldn't be a do but a don't, so I wasn't too obvious. My real hairdresser did use clippers on it.

He motioned for me to get into his chair and went to get a smock for me. I waved it off and told him, “I won't be needing that.”