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That’s another thing. Alfred had to either go Dutch on all our dates or ask to borrow the money from me, which he never repaid. I do not profess to be the wealthiest sister on the planet, not even in Charlotte, but I take care of mine. Speaking of “mine,” I have two absolutely beautiful daughters from my one and only marriage. Titus and I were married right after college, and while I can truly say that I loved that man, he disrespected me with another woman. Unlike most women who accept that their men make mistakes and slip up and land in another pussy, I immediately filed for divorce.
Our daughters are seventeen and fourteen and we have joint custody, so I have them every other week. Titus and I only live six miles apart and their school is smack-dab in the middle, so that makes it simple enough for us to manage. I never have men over to my house for sexcapades while my daughters are there. Even though a lot of the teenage boys they bring over from high school consider me a MILF—Mom I’d Like to Fuck—I would never go there. My dicks need to at least be in their early twenties, which is why I love the club scene. In today’s age, when clubs are overly nervous when it comes to losing their liquor licenses for serving underage drinkers, I leave it up to them to screen dick for me. The clubs that I go to check the front and back of IDs to make sure they are not phony. Goody, goody for me!
A woman can find men from twenty-one to eighty-one at the Excelsior, my club of choice. Located on Beatties Ford Road, it has been open since 1944, and my parents used to watch Nat King Cole perform there. It is truly a Southern juke joint but I love it. I generally get there shortly after the doors open so I can have my pick of the puppy litter. I want men with a little ruff-ruff in them. Men who want to tear up some pussy and keep it moving. The last thing I need is some young buck catching feelings for me. I could never claim a man that young as my “public dick action.”
The first one I ever picked up in there was named Devain. As soon as I spotted him, I wanted to do something deviant to his fine ass. He was only a few inches taller than me, making him around five-nine, but he had the sexiest, sparkling brown eyes and closely cropped, silky black hair. The skin on his face was flawless, and I wondered if the rest of him was a creamy mahogany as well. I was determined to find out.
He stayed on the dance floor for nearly an hour, gyrating up against a young hoochie mama who swore she knew how to handle some dick but could surely not hold a candle to me. Once they took a break and she headed to the ladies’ room to drain her bladder, I made my move.
“I like the way you move,” I yelled into his ear over the loud, thumping music.
He grinned, looking me up and down. “Thanks. I enjoy dancing.”
I wasted no time. “Do you enjoy fucking also?”
He practically choked on his beer. “Oh, yeah, I like fucking.”
“Is that your woman with you?” I asked, gesturing my head toward the restrooms.
“Naw, I met her tonight. I’m here with my homeboy.” He quickly scanned the dance floor. “He’s around here someplace.”
I intertwined my arm with his. “How about we go someplace not around here?”
For a second, I thought I saw intimidation flicker in his eyes. “What’s your name?”
“You can call me Imagine.”
“Imagine?”
“Yes, you cannot possibly imagine what I’m going to do to you, if you’re bold enough to leave here with me.”
He laughed uncomfortably.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Scared of real woman pussy?”
He took another swig of his beer. “What’s real woman pussy?”
“You eat ribs?”
“Yeah, I eat ribs. Why?” he asked in confusion.
“The difference between tough ribs that you have to gnaw off the bones and tender ribs that fall off the bones is the amount of time that they have marinated. Real woman pussy has marinated much, much longer than the kind you’re probably used to.”
“But…you’re old enough to be my mother. I don’t know if I would feel comfortable.”
“Is your mother as fine as me?” I lowered the right strap of my dress so he could see my cleavage. Then I grabbed his dick through his pants; it was a brick. “Does your mother make your dick this hard?”
Before he could respond, the hoochie he had been dancing with finally returned from the ladies’ room; surely there was a long line as usual.
“Devain, who is this?” she asked, having the nerve to be territorial even though she hardly knew him.
Without letting go my grip on his dick, I responded, “I’m his mommy!”
Her eyes almost popped out of her head as she lowered them and realized I was feeling him up.
“She’s not my mother!” he quickly stated, throwing his palms up in the air at the mere hint of incest.
I gazed at him and licked a trail from the center of his neck, over his chin, and drew his bottom lip into my mouth and bit it gently. “Oh, you’ll be calling me Mommy by the break of dawn, guaranteed.” I let his dick go and took his hand, beginning to lead him toward the exit. “Come on, let’s blow this joint so I can blow you.”
