Single Husbands (14 page)

Brian hadn’t heard from Marcus Monty. He didn’t want to call too often, but another follow-up was necessary. As he waited
for Monty to answer, Brian prayed he didn’t get Monty’s voice mail.

“Hey, B! What’s up? I know why you calling, man. Listen, I’m close. Real close. I’ve narrowed my options to you or Brandon,
man. Let’s do dinner tonight.”

Fuck!
“I just got back to Miami a few minutes ago. I can be back in Houston first thing in the morning,” Brian said, knowing he
should’ve stayed one more day, but today was his special day with Michelle. Brian hadn’t missed a single special day with
his wife since they’d married.

“I’ll be in Chicago tomorrow. I’ll meet you there. Call me when you get in and we’ll set a time and place then,” Marcus insisted.

Cool.
Brian exhaled, grateful he still had a chance to represent Marcus. “You got it. See you in Chicago. Peace,” he said, ending
the call. Now if Brian could resolve his uncertainties about Zahra, he’d clear his conscience. Until then . . .

Stepping out of the limo, Brian rolled his luggage into their bedroom, then licked his lips in anticipation, praying his wife
had done what he’d asked. His lips spread wide as he looked in the bathroom. “That’s my girl,” he said, happy that Michelle
had obeyed him. She was in the shower preparing his pussy for a cunnilingus treat. Closing the bathroom door, he removed his
clothes, all except his underwear, then sat on the bed.

Wife first. Son second. Brian would keep his word to BJ and take him out on their yacht with six of his buddies. Guys’ day
out. That was tomorrow. Maybe Brian would invite his dad along, so his father could decode why Zahra had targeted him.

Brian listened at the bathroom door, making certain the shower was still running, then retrieved the envelope from his suitcase.
Moving to the bench at the edge of their bed, he slowly removed the papers again.

Exhaling heavily, Brian slid the papers back inside, setting the envelope aside, then called his father. Waiting for his dad
to answer, he stared at the envelope.

“Hey, son! You’re back in town. BJ is so excited about his day out on the yacht with you tomorrow, he’s gotten me excited
too. Maybe I should join you, since it’s just going to be the fellas, huh? What do you think? You want your ole man cruising
around with you? Besides, it’s time we have the family talk with BJ about girls. He’s getting a little too attached to the
sweet little chocolate girl next door.”

This
was
a great idea. Not having the talk with BJ. There was no harm in him playing with the girl next door as long as BJ wasn’t
claiming her as his girlfriend. But it was better if Brian sought his dad’s advice face to face rather than over the phone.
Confined on the yacht, three generations of Flaw men could spend quality time together.

“Dad, I’d love to have you join us.”

“Fine, it’s done. I’ll let BJ and your mother know. What’s up?”

“It can wait,” Brian said, dwelling on Zahra. “I have to meet Marcus in Chicago tomorrow,” Brian said, edging toward telling
his dad about Zahra. But he feared Michelle might overhear his conversation. Women had bionic hearing, strength, and every
skill imaginable when it came to snooping on their husbands. “I’ll see you in the morning. We can talk then,” Brian said.

Could Zahra pose a threat to his marriage?

“Son, what’s wrong with you? How are you going to keep your word to BJ and be in Chicago tomorrow?” his dad whispered.

“Damn, you’re right. I can’t afford to miss this meeting, Dad. I’ll make it up to BJ later.”

His heart tightened when Michelle asked, “What’s that, baby?”

“Shit!” Brian hadn’t heard his wife open the bathroom door.

“Son, what is going on with you?”

“Dad, let me call you back. Bye,” Brian said, ending the call. Stuffing the papers inside the envelope, he closed it, placed
it in his suitcase, then zipped his luggage. “Just some stats on a new guy. Nothing serious,” he said. “Just got a call from
Marcus. I have to fly to Chicago in the morning.”

“Well, the look on your face sure says whatever is in that envelope
is
serious. The stats must be horrible. Mind if I take a look?” Michelle asked.

“I said it’s not,” Brian insisted, staring through Michelle.

“Fine. If you’re going to lie, don’t answer. But you need to check that attitude,” Michelle said, tightening her lips.

Why did the woman he’d met at the arena suck his dick so fantastic, Brian wanted to hook up with her the next two nights he
was in Houston? Stick with the rules and another woman would never show up at his front door. He hoped. After fucking Zahra,
how could he make sure? Did anyone take pictures of them at the mall, the restaurant, arriving at or leaving the hotel together?
Fuck.
Would he end up on an episode of
Cheaters
?

Rubbing his forehead, Brian said, “Damn, woman, come here. I apologize, baby. I just want this contract with Marcus to be
a done deal.” He kissed his wife. “You are so sexy. Enough about work, you ready for me to please you?” he asked as Michelle
stood in front of the mirror, then released the towel from her glistening body, dropping it to the floor.

His eyes trailed her to the bed. Brian watched his wife relax atop the sheets, the same as she’d done every first Saturday
of the month since they’d exchanged wedding vows. It was yoni massage time. The one day of every month that he spiritually
reconnected with his wife. Just like a car needed regularly scheduled tune-ups, his wife did too.

Michelle spread her thighs, nice and wide, then smiled at him.

Brian absolutely adored his wife. She was the mother of his two children, his very best friend, and his confidant. Brian told
Michelle everything that he considered significant, but there were a few things not worth mentioning. Not if what he’d have
to say would evoke sadness inside his home.

Red satin sheets covered their king-sized bed. A goddess of heavenly beauty stretched from the headboard toward the foot of
the bed. The softest coco-buttered creamy skin he’d ever laid hands upon wrapped around his wife’s flesh. Having Michelle
as his eternal mate made Brian the happiest man alive.

Michelle’s yoni was a precious space and a sacred temple. She’d taught him to love and respect her pussy before the first
time they’d made love, before their wedding and before she gave birth to their children, saying to him, “Baby, it’s my responsibility
to teach you how to appreciate and pleasure my entire body. If you want to touch, taste, or feel your dick inside of this
good pussy, you’ll have to earn it. Don’t worry. Mama’s gonna show you exactly how to make and keep her happy.”

The day Michelle let him watch her masturbate was etched in his mind forever, but it didn’t have to be. The videotape was
stored in their safe, along with the other XXX-rated home videos they’d done during their ten years of marriage. Brian knew
Michelle was especially unique, because she was the only woman who had taught him how to make passionate love to her
without
fucking her. And no matter how many women he fucked outside their marriage, Brian would divorce Michelle if she ever gave
his
pussy away. The other women that he’d fucked didn’t mean anything to him. What Michelle didn’t know kept peace within their
family.

Sitting on the bench at the foot of their bed, Brian buffed his fingernails as he admired his wife. She’d taught him that
it was a man’s responsibility to make certain his fingernails didn’t cut or scratch a woman’s delicate pussy, leaving her
miserably sore with painful scars that would hurt her so much she’d resent him and regret having allowed him to touch her
sacredness. Brian had learned so much from his wife. Admiring Michelle, he believed she was more beautiful today than the
day they’d met.

Brian stood with his erection pointing toward the ceiling. Moving about their spacious bedroom, he lit twelve white floating
candles, dripped a few drops of cinnamon oil (which Michelle had bought from their neighbor Donna) on the tall lamps beside
the bed; then he walked over to their patio and opened the sliding glass door. The South Beach salty summer breeze engulfed
their bedroom.

Standing over his wife, Brian leaned toward her, softly kissing her forehead. “Are you relaxed, baby?” he asked Michelle.

“Yes, baby. I’m relaxed and patiently awaiting my
wonderful
husband.”

Brian whispered in Michelle’s ear. “I’m here to please you, not just today but every day. Whatever I have to give, I freely
give it unto you.” That was true. Everything they possessed was jointly owned.

Delicately he fluffed, then placed a red satin pillow underneath his wife’s head so she could comfortably watch him whenever
she desired. Then he slid a pillow under her right knee and another under her left, separating her thighs for clear access
to his pussy. The pillow Brian tucked under Michelle’s curvaceous hips was sealed inside plastic, then covered with a satin
pillowcase.

Seated at the foot of the bed, Brian whispered, “Spread your legs a little wider and bend your knees a little bit more so
I can admire my pretty pussy.”

Lowering his nose inches above her, Brian sniffed his wife’s pussy. The scent of pink cotton candy stimulated his senses.
“Inhale for me, baby,” he said, backing away from his pussy. Together they inhaled deep into their bellies, then exhaled as
much air as they could, like they’d done in Yoga classes on second Saturdays of each month.

“Inhale again,” he said as they began to breathe deeply two more times.

Careful not to touch her yoni, Brian’s strong yet smooth hands journeyed up Michelle’s thighs, passionately massaging her
legs with his fingertips. Meandering up her thighs, he pressed his thumbs in the crevices between her outer labia and her
thighs. Slowly he journeyed up to her abdomen, her breasts, then lightly teased the tips of her nipples. Picking up the bottle
of WET, he squeezed a few drops of lubrication, then watched the moisture seep between the crevice of his wife’s thighs and
outer vaginal lips.

Slowly he caressed her pussy, starting from the outside, massaging her outer lips between his thumb and index finger. Gently
twirling her outer vaginal lips all the way up, then all the way down, Brian took his time before he began massaging her inner
lips, occasionally teasing the opening of her vagina. The time had not yet come to penetrate his wife.

Noticing Michelle’s shallow breaths, Brian softly reminded her, “Breathe a little deeper, baby.”

Their yoni massage ritual was a treat Brian never grew tired of doing for his wife. He wanted to make sure Michelle was always
sexually pleased beyond her satisfaction. Brian’s commitment to himself was to ensure Michelle never had the desire to or
thought of being with another man. He glanced up at the framed wedding photo that Michelle’s mother had given him, knowing
he’d made Michelle’s mom proud of how he’d treated her daughter.

No man could please Michelle better than Brian. And no matter how many women he fucked, no woman could please him better than
his wife. Each third Saturday of the month, Michelle gave him a lingam massage. Imagining his wife’s hands all over his body,
Brian felt his dick go from limp to hard.

Keeping his thoughts inside the head on his shoulders, Brian knew it was best not to talk too much, although he wanted to
say, “Baby, please let me slide my hard-ass dick inside your hot, juicy pussy. Just for a few minutes.”

Michelle had taught him that excessive talking by either of them during her pussy massage would detract from maximizing her
pleasure. Michelle’s eyes rolled to the top of her head, exposing the whiteness of her eyeballs through the tiny slits in
her lids. She’d told him that was the moment when she could feel his energy moving from her feet all the way up to the crown
of her head.

That was the perfect timing for Brian to massage her precious pearl. Brian was slightly jealous when he’d learned a woman’s
clitoris was four times more sensitive than a male’s glans, and that a woman could easily have five times more orgasms per
session than a man. He recalled the day Michelle told him, “Look at me, Brian. I want to make myself clear. A woman’s precious
pearl has only one purpose—and don’t you ever forget it—and that’s to give her pleasure, pleasure, and more pleasure. So don’t
ever overlook touching, stroking, and kissing my clit.”

Adding a little more lubrication, he stroked his wife’s clitoris in tiny clockwise and counterclockwise circles, as if he
were operating the controller of one of his son’s video systems. Then he gently squeezed her clit between his thumb and index
fingers, using various rhythms.

“Breathe, baby,” he reminded her again.

Inserting his right middle finger into his wife’s yoni, Brian lightly explored and massaged the inside of her vagina. Slowly
stroking up, down, around, and sideways—varying the depth, speed, and pressure—he honed in on her G-spot then moved his middle
finger silently, as if saying, “Come here, my pretty-ass pussy.” Sliding in his ring finger, he stroked Michelle’s G-spot
to her liking and satisfaction. Putting his thumb to work, he massaged her clit in an up-and-down motion. Brian didn’t stop
there. Using the same hand, he slipped his pinky inside her anus.

Lifting her head, Michelle gazed into his eyes.

Brian softly said, “Thanks for letting me hold God’s greatest ‘gift’ to mankind in the palm of my hand. I cherish your mind,
body, and spirit.” Then he caressed his wife’s breasts with his left hand, pausing for a moment to feel her heartbeat.

Michelle’s hips jerked. Her pussy squeezed his fingers. Tears streamed down her cheeks, as though it were their first time
bonding. Brian closed his eyes and said, “Thank you, God, for trusting me with the most beautiful woman in the world. Baby,
I love you.”

Culminating the massage, slowly, gently, respectfully, and passionately, he eased his fingers out, one at a time, from inside
his wife. He held his left hand against her heart until all of his fingers were removed. Then Brian lifted his left hand away
from her body. Joining Michelle in the afterglow of her yoni massage, Brian cuddled in a spoon position with his wife in his
arms, telling her, “Baby, I appreciate and respect you.”