Just call her a vibe

About a week ago someone from my past resurfaced. We haven’t seen each other since high school aside from social media. And he made a big deal about wanting to take a chance of creating a relationship with me. He tells me about how much he’s always wanted to tell me he liked me, was attracted to me and is serious about making it work.

As a confident, attractive (hell yes I think I’m cute)black woman dating in these times I’m skeptical of any 20something attractive black “successful” (success is subjective in the black community apparently)man eagerly relinquishing his singledom to be my one and only Prince Charming.

Mocha brown skin, long natural hair. How she rocked it depended strictly on mood. She was a star in her own right. In my eyes. She was my baby and much more. But she had magical ways to send me to my highest of pissedtivity. Like why you gotta act like that? I’m not out here lookin for a cheap thrill and I got everything I want right here. But of course you gotta push and look for shit that ain’t even there. You must react every time these bitches talk. Baby, yes I have a past. We all have one. You do too and I ain’t going around throwing that shit in ya face. I ain’t tryna treat you like that.

“Why is she still texting you Brandon?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck you mean you don’t know!”

She wanna fuck me is that what you wanna hear? She’s some female I used to fuck with before we were together. This ain’t that back in the day shit. And I always kep it a buck wit you. I was dealing with other females while we were figurin this “if we wanna be together” shit out. She miss the dick. That’s the mutha fuckin truth Baby. You weren’t given me no pussy and you wasn’t my girl so I got my shit how I got my shit. I want you and only YOU. Why can’t you see that man..... I love you...

“You gotta be givin’ her reasons to keep her calling and texting you!”,

I don’t know why she gotta keep thinking this shit. I hate watchin her cry.

“Come here yo”

“Fuck you Brandon”

I don’t know why but I always want to fuck her when she’s mad. I hate that shit. I just be wantin to walk the fuck out. But then I look at her. Those beautiful brown eyes I love to stare in as I cum deep down inside her.

Why can’t we just fuck? It’s like you just need shit to argue with me about. No, I ain’t fuck that girl. I’d be one tired muthafucka fuckin you and turning around fuckin someone else too. We fuck every day. More than one time a day! Like Baby chillllll... Let a nigga breathe. I ain’t out here.

I love you.

Can’t you tell? You know everything about me. I don’t let nobody in and I let you in. Every girl I’ve been in has even told you that. Nah, I’m not ready right now to tell you exactly how I feel about you. I don’t even understand it myself enough to know where to begin. But it’s cool.... I like it.... But Baby please, I beg you calm down. I ain’t going no where. I’m yours.

“I said come here,” I pulled her into my lap. I tried to kiss her on the lips but she’s struggling so hard I missed and got her neck instead. I’m good with the neck thou. She likes that shit. I grabbed her by her wrists and pinned them behind her back so she can’t use her hands to pull away. I got her smidget ass now. So fuckin little but got so much mouth. I’m bouta fuck that attitude right the fuck out of you.

“Brandon stop!”

I’ve been around children my whole life. I’ve provided nurturance, emotional and mental support when their own parents were lacking. I’ve loved as my own whether I’ve wanted to or not! And I’m angry! I’m angry at the fact that I’ve been forced to love and help build these functional human beings for their asshole parents to turn around and make the same stupid mistakes that their parents made!

I refuse to allow my child to be anyone’s fool even mine! My upbringing wasn’t the healthiest mentally and emotionally and I’ve learned a lot over the years. I’ve learned not to repeat those mistakes most importantly.

Growing up in a stereotypical old fashion aged West Indian household as a female was exactly what you’d expect it to be. Women kept house and men destroyed all the woman’s house cleaning. Children were to be seen and not heard. But if they were they’d feel the wrath of the “rod”.

Boys are raised to understand their roles as breadwinners and nothing more. Girls were raised to understand their roles as housewife(cooked, cleaned, took care of the household even if they were not a wife). Moms loved their boys and couldn’t stand their daughters. Girls were raised to feel inferior to the boys and everyone else because these is “just how things are”.

(transparency)

Weeded up, tryna fuck you out my system. He don’t feel like you. He don’t sound like you. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep..... It feels like I’m dying inside.

And this nigga is out here prancing around town with his new girlfriend Symone. I’m not hatin’ on this girl in the slightest way. I mean she’s cute and he seems to like her.

But I thought I was special. I should’ve known better than that at this age, right lol.... And we only dated for 4 months.

Those 4 months meant the world to me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. It hurts not being able to call you and ask you about your day. The gentle huskiness of your voice when you sleepily whisper “good night baby”.

Instant panty wetter. And he knew it. It’s that same tone of voice he had when he’d force his hard dick deep inside of me and demanded me to say his name. Hard..... deep....harder.....deeper.....harder......... deeper........ faster......harder...... deeper...... faster...... wetter.....deeper.....faster....deeper....faster

I know when he’s about to cum. He’d pull me as close to him as possible. His dick slowly filling up every inch of my tight pussy. He’d taken the condom off halfway through our love feast for the first time.

“I won’t cum in you. I promise”.

“I promise you will”, I whispered to him between kisses.

“What makes you think so?”, staring into my eyes as if he already answered his own question.

“Because you’re not going to want to stop.....and I’m not going to make you stop”. I raised my head a little off the pillow so I could continue to kiss him. He kisses me back harder pushing me into the bed. “And I’ll tell you to cum in me”.

His kisses get harder and deeper. Passion dripped from his explorative tongue as it journied through my mouth. He wanted to know how it felt. How much louder could he make me scream?

He assumed the “I love you” position. You know, that passionate him staring into your eyes as he’s pounding your pussy below him position. That position that got a lot ya’ll asses.

He unwrapped my hands from around his waist and placed them above my head. Slowing bringing his hands down my body, lightly squeezing his favorites on his way down to his 8 inches of hard, thick caramel dick. I guess he couldn’t wait any longer probably thinking I’d come to my senses soon. As he got to my waist he quickly grabbed his member and forced himself hard back inside me. I feel a quick sharp pain before he fills me up again with his dick. The pain’s over now and this feels 100x better and 100x wrong at the same time.

We’ve only been dating for 2 months! Yes, we’ve just gotten tested and we both came out clean but am I ready to be a mother? Is HE right for me to make him a father? What kind of father could he be? I’d never want to hurt me child the way my father hurt me......

But I’m sure I love him. And I’m almost sure he loves me. Shouldn’t that be good enough?

He starts out slow. Taking his time with every thrust so I can know every inch of his dick.

“You like the way Daddy feels deep in your pussy”

A high but low pitched, “uh huh”, is all I could manage to escape my mouth.

His thrusts building momentum again.

“How does it feel?”

“Deep and hard”, he’s so deep I feel like he’s literally in my belly.

And I feel every vain, every inch with every thrust. His hands trailing my hip bones until he reaches my ass cheeks cupping them for elevation and leverage. He’s deeper than he’s ever been and I’m loving every moment of it.

“What’s my name?”

He liked when I called him by 2 names. Brandon and Daddy. I usually don’t call grown ass men “Daddy” but the way he fucks me.... baby!!!! Yea, that’s Daddy! But I had to learn to be careful with Daddy. The first time I said it he almost got me pregnant.

“Brandon” I reply desperatly.

“What’s my name?”

“Daddy.”

We had been together for 2 months and 3 days. I thought only women kept track of that shit. But this guy is someone different.

“What you gettin’ baby”

“The strawberry poppyseed salad.”

“Ain’t you allergic to half that shit?”

“Of course I know to customize the order so I don’t die in your car, Brandon.” I roll my eyes at my 6ft tall, 185lbs of muscular Adonis, grey eyed sniper of a boyfriend. He steps closer to me in the line. He wraps his arms around me waist. Half past chubb dick on my back. Leans forward and kisses me on my shloulder from behind.

“Don’t look at me like that baby. You’re high ass almost got sent to the E.R a couple times.

He’s absolutely right. My high ass gets hungry and stupid. Just some times it’s worth the risk.

Yea, yea. Judge me if you want to but you’ve done it too. Maybe not the allergy part. But wanted something sooooo bad and did not want ANYTHING else but what you’re craving for. Regardless, of the fact your stupid ass shouldn’t eat it either at that point in life or never. And you’re dumb ass ate it too and lived to regret it. Key word, “lived”. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

No, it doesn’t. Don’t eat that shit if a doctor tells you not to. Your ass might actually be having your last meal. LEAVE THAT SHIT ALONE FAM!!!

Back to me.