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I laugh.
“Ummm, speaking of big dick,” Persia says, grinning. “Damon wants to see us. He’s coming to town for some kind of training next week. I told y’all we’d be hearing from his freaky-ass again.”
Damon’s this stocky, brown-skinned IT manager from Boston we fuck from time-to-time when he’s in town on business. He’s a bit nerdy, but a whole lot of freaky. And, although his dick game is on point, he’s someone I don’t particularly enjoy freaking with. But, Paris and Persia do. So I’ll indulge him.
Paris smiles. “Whew, that nigga has one big, juicy dick.”
“Mmmmph,” I grunt, twisting my lips up. I glance over at Persia.
“Oh, girl, please,” she says, taking a sip from her drink, “grunt if you want. Taking Damon’s ass makes my pussy extra wet. I love it when he backs that tight, muscled-ass up on my rubber dick. He fucks so much better after he’s been fucked down real good.”
Paris laughs and coughs, almost choking on her drink. “Girl, your ass is stupid. But, uh, that nigga takes dick almost better than you.”
“And I enjoy giving it to him,” Persia says, laughing with her.
“I’m sorry,” I say, frowning at the both of them. “But I can’t stand watching all that hard-bodied man let you fuck him in his ass with a strap-on like that. It’s sinful and plain ole nasty.”
“Nasty hell,” Persia scoffs. “There’s nothing nasty about a man wanting ass play.”
I blink. “Ass play, my ass. Ass play is licking and fingering his hole, massaging his prostrate, not ramming a dick deep in it. No, what that nigga does is...ugh.” I shake my head, deciding to let it go. This is one of those situations she and I will never see eye-to-eye on. “Forget it. This is one thing you and I will have to agree to disagree on.”
“Answer me this,” she says, sitting up in her seat. “Does it get your pussy nice and hot watching me bust his ass out the frame?”
Now, believe me when I tell you, I consider myself extremely liberal and open-minded. But, uh...there’s something suspect about a man always wanting a dick up in his ass. I don’t care if it is attached to a woman. I feel a man wanting to be fucked in the ass—all the time, is trying to tell you something. Now, don’t get me wrong. Like I said, I’m all for massaging a man’s P-spot—with a finger, even a mini-vibrator, while he’s getting his dick sucked or fucking one of us. But, uh, strapping up and running a big-ass dick in his ass is a bit too extra for me. I don’t care what you say. A man wanting anything more than two-to-three inches inserted into his ass is very suspect to me. He either fantasizes about being with another man, or the nigga is an undercover, closeted case, if you ask me. But, hey, it’s his ass, his desires. So what I care?
“No,” I state, shaking my head. “It disgusts me. Watching Paris play in her pussy while I suck the skin off his big-ass dick is what gets me off.” I glance over at Paris. “Speaking of which. When’s the last time you sucked his dick?”
“Girl, you know I’ve never sucked his dick. I might have licked around his balls a few times or tongued him in the ass to get him ready for Persia. But I’ve always left the dick sucking to you.”
“Mmmph. Well, I think it’s time you wet him up, too.” I laugh. “I’m almost embarrassed to say this, but I can’t even front. That dick does taste damn good.”
“And tell the truth,” Persia says, eyeing me over the rim of her glass, “isn’t the nut creamier when his ass is stuffed with a dildo?”
Paris and I crack the hell up. “Now you reaching, boo. I ain’t saying all that. Anyway, Paris you need to wrap them made-for-dick-sucking lips around his and taste for yourself.”
“No, thank you. I’ll leave that all for you. I’d rather watch.”
I laugh. “Oh, please. Drop down on your knees and join in. We all know you one dick-sucking ho on the low.”
“Oh, hooker, I know you’re not talking,” she says, eyeing me and laughing, “the way you like slurping down a hot nut. You got some nerve. Your ass is the East Coast dick-gulping champion.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I like to pop a few back every now and then. Your point?”
“The point is we’re three fly, freaky bitches,” Persia interjects, raising her drink, “turning niggas out like there’s no tomorrow.” We raise our drinks, clink our glasses.
“To this goody-goody,” I say.
“Dipped in crack, rolled in heroin,” Persia adds.
Paris jumps up from her seat, starts patting her crotch area, shaking and jerking her body. Paris is a lot more fun when she’s tossed back a few drinks. “Got the niggas strung out, aching for another hit. Wishing for another injection of this hot pussy juice.”
Persia and I laugh as she drops down, bounces and rocks on her heels, holding her glass up in the air, not spilling a drop of her drink.
Persia waves her on. “Girl, your ass is a damn mess. If Mom were a fly on the wall she’d lose her damn mind. Speaking of her, she called me today and wants to know if we’re going to Pasha’s wedding in August.”
“I know,” Paris and I say at the same time. “She called us, too.”
“I figured she did. What’d y’all tell her?”
