Desperate Hoodwives Read online

  Being in love and having sex opened up a whole new world to me. The more we did it the better it got. I was hooked like an addict. And my drug brought me way more than I ever was looking for.

  Six months after that first time my nana walked in on me taking a bath and knew the secret my baggy clothes had been hiding. Two months later I had a baby boy to take care of. Three months after that I caught Junior’s cheating ass giving all that good dick to my enemy Basheemah. And then my cousin Kimmy. And then my best friend Red.

  Not only was he cheating, he didn’t even help with our son. Too much tears and too many damn fears so I kicked that d-a-w-g to the c-u-r-b.

  I got on the grind and took care of my child. I ain’t had no choice with my nana. My mother was somewhere cracked out and she left me and WooWoo on my grandmother to raise. Nana wasn’t going to let me skip out on mine. I went to school and worked. When I turned eighteen almost ten years ago, I moved into my own one-bedroom apartment here in Bentley Manor. Ten damn years.

  Luther’s right, it’s time for a change.

  There is always some drama. The he-say-she-say. The women fighting each other because some man is sexing both of them. The drug hustling right in the parking lot. The addicts running around like roaches. The roaches running around no matter how clean you keep your damn apartment. The constant fight to keep mice from lounging up in your apartment like they pay the rent. The halls that can get pissy as hell at times.

  And the walls are so thin. One night Luther and I got hot laying in bed listening to Mr. Miller give Mrs. Miller the best that he got in the apartment above us. We all came at the same time. A damn shame. Okay, it was one hell of a good time for Luther and me but it still was a damn shame.

  On top of that I did the right thing (some say it would be the stupid thing) and added Luther to my lease so that easy eleven dollars a month I used to pay went up to over two hundred. Not that two hundred is the highest rent in the world, but it irks me that we one of the few paying full rent. Still, where the hell would we find a four-bedroom for two hundred a month? Nowhere. So for now Bentley Manor it is.

  And then there’s Junior and his wife, Molly the hungry-hungry hippo, living in the building across from me. Poor thing doesn’t know a blessed thing about Junior sexing everything up in Bentley Manor. Junior’s still a no-good, always begging for pussy, screwing any woman with her legs open, wannabe rapper, half-ass-child-support paying, fat-white-chick-for-a-wife having, no good son of a bitch. She married a stone-cold whore and couldn’t buy a clue if someone gave her a million dollars.

  And this isn’t gossip.

  Junior’s always trying to get some more of me, but he might as well get over it because Luther’s the man for me. Over the years I have given in to the occasional Junior booty-call special now and then. A sister has needs and he knows how to lay it down. Sue me. But those days are over now that I have Luther.

  “Maury, I’m one thousand percent sure Quentin is my baby daddy! He’s the only man I been with. And all I know is soon as we hear these results I’m suing his no-good ass for child support.”

  I focus my eyes at the television and shake my head in shame at some young black girl clasping her hands, crying and rocking with her mouth balled up. Her body moves back and forth in the chair like she’s on a rocking horse.

  Now see, I wouldn’t ever carry myself on Maury’s show trying to find out who the father of my kids…especially if I wasn’t sure. I’d hate to see her shame if it isn’t his baby. Just like all the rest she’ll go crying like a fool while she ran offstage. One girl was up to sixteen different men getting tested for paternity—and she still didn’t know!

  I use the remote to turn up the volume. I’m on edge on my seat like these is my damn test results.

  “With a result of 99.99 percent, Quentin, you are…NOT the father….”

  Sure enough, Quentin did the running man, the audience exploded with oohs and aahs, and the dead-wrong baby momma goes screeching off the stage.

  I hear the metal front door of the apartment open and then close again. I look over my shoulder this time to see my husband, Luther, stroll in. I’m happy to see him. Big Friday night, not quite ten and he’s already home after hanging out with his boys after work. He’s still in his black and gray mechanic’s uniform but there’s no mistaking his Ginuwine-like good looks. I shift over so that he can plop down onto the sofa next to me. “Hey, baby.”

  “Whaddup.”

  “You want something to drink or eat?” I ask, falling into my role of a good wife.

  “Naw, but I know something else I want,” he says, leaning over to playfully bite one of my itty-bitty titties through the white wifebeater I had on.

  With five kids we never have time to do the do unless it’s in the bedroom at night with the TV blaring—no need for them to know Momma makes they new daddy holler like a bitch.

  “Where the kids?” he asks, putting out his Newport cigarette.

  “I sent them to WooWoo’s for the night.” I drop my panties and raise my jean skirt up to my waist as he drops his pants.

  I climb onto his lap, the back of my thighs pressed to the top of his. With his thick dark lips he sucks at my titties. I reach between us to stroke his dick slowly with a tight grip just the way he likes it.

  If nothing else, Luther has a tongue that reached his chin and he knows what to do with it.

  “Yes, Luther, suck ’em,” I moan, raising one hand to press the back of his smooth, bald head closer. I shiver as I feel my clit swell with life. He circles the whole breast wetly like he’s starved as my heated pussy moistens from my own juices.

  I arch my back causing my long weaved hair to tickle the middle as he cups both smooth, firm breasts with his hands and sucks the thickened nipples at one time.

  I’m ready to fuck. Horny. Hot. And ready to cum. “Gimme that dick,” I whisper into the heat between us.

  His hands move down to grip my ass tightly as he lifts me up and slides my pussy down onto him. “Want that motherfucker, don’t you?” he asks, resting his head on the back of the sofa to look up at me.

  This is where I take the lead, leaning toward him and circling my hips to bring the hard shaft of his dick against my slick, throbbing clit.

  “Damn, girl. Damn,” he whispers against my chest.

  I feel his heart beating like crazy and so is mine.

  My pussy got wetter. His dick got harder.

  I pick up the pace, working my walls as I ride him fast and furious like I’m about to lose a race.

  I cry out as I feel my nut building all in my thighs and stomach as I close my eyes and ride the waves.

  “Best dick you ever had?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I lie, shifting his hands up to my breasts for him to squeeze and massage my nipples while I cum—just the way I like.

  “Cum on this dick.”

  I holler out roughly. It feel like my pussy explodes as my heart hammers in my chest and my throat gets dry from gasping for air.

  “I’m cumming,” I moan.

  “Me too,” he roars, his grip on my ass tightening.

  “You big dick son of a bitch,” I lie as we cum together.

  His nut fills me as mine soaks him.

  That’s why I like to ride. No matter what kinda dick you’re working with a woman can—and will—always come when she’s on top.

  No, Luther isn’t the best lover I had. He’s the worst.

  No, Luther’s dick isn’t the biggest I ever had. It’s the smallest.

  For me, sex is the one weak spot in our marriage. Luther knows nothing about different positions. Sometimes he cums so quick it’s over before it ever starts. Besides that tongue he doesn’t have nothing else going for him in bed, but I refuse to put my pussy before my heart anymore.

  4

  Devani

  “Ah shit, Dee!” Tyrik jumps from the bed with his big-ass dick springing free from this bitch’s mouth.

  “Fuck this,” I snap, and I swear to God I laun
ch into Tyrik’s room like a goddamn NASA space shuttle. Before I know it, I have one fist of silky hair and the other fist pounding all over Mami’s little ass. These Latina bitches make me sick and if you ask me they’re the biggest threat on our niggas with their white-girl hair and black-chick attitudes.

  I’ll beat this bitch back to the border before I let her take my spot. Case you don’t know—I’m like my momma. I love good weed, a good dick, and good fight, too.

  “Rufus, get the fuck in here!” Tyrik shouts before locking his arms around my waist; but before he lifts me off J-Ho, I grab hold of one of her gold loop earrings and snatch that son of a bitch clean off.

  I smile in satisfaction as the bitch’s scream fills the room. In the next second, she springs toward me but not before Rufus barges in and plucks her out the air as if she weighs nothing.

  “Yo le mataré, puta! Yo le mataré!”

  “I like to see you try,” I snap back. Bentley Manor is filled with all kinds of niggas, you know. Black, white, and Hispanic—one doesn’t live around them without picking up a few things.

  “Get her out of here!” Tyrik yells at his cousin, because he’s quickly losing his grip on me.

  I want one more good lick at the bitch. I squirm and wiggle my way free and then launch another attack before Rufus is able to clear the door.

  The heifa grabs a good hunk of my weave, but I knuckle up and bust her nose wide open.

  “Goddamn it, Dee!” Tyrik wrestles me away again. “Calm the fuck down. Calm the fuck down.”

  Ain’t this nigga got some nerve? “Calm the fuck down?” I turn on him and smack him dead in his mouth. “What the fuck is your dick doin’ in her mouth, huh?” I hit him again and then the next thing I know I’m wailing on him for all it’s worth and daring this fucker to hit me back.

  If he did, then it would really be on in this motherfucker. I’m talking about some “NFL player killed in his own home—film at eleven” type of shit.

  Our fight becomes a wrestling match. We’re knocking over lamps and tables and the only thing I can think of is trying to hurt this nigga as much as he’s hurt me. How he’s gonna leave me standing at Bentley Manor waiting for him while he’s throwing a big-ass party and shit? Why didn’t he tell me about the trade?

  I’m grabbing, smacking, and scratching the hell out of Tyrik and I’m realizing he’s ripping my clothes off. When he tries to kiss me I chomp down on his thick lips for all it’s worth and draw blood.

  “Bitch!”

  I receive my first hard slap across the face and like I say I don’t play that shit. I’m now tryna kill this motherfucker, but Tyrik Jefferson has a few tricks up his sleeve. Next thing I know, he ties me down to the goddamn bedpost and this nigga is trying to rip my left nipple off.

  I scream and try to buck him off of me, but he stays on like I’m some damn rodeo ride.

  “Come on, Dee. You know you want this shit,” Tyrik snaps. “Ain’t that why you came here? Huh?”

  “Get the fuck off me!”

  His answer to that is to cram his big-ass hand into my soppy wet pussy. Hell, I can’t help it if this shit turns me on. Anger is passion, too.

  “Ah, now that’s what I’m talking about.” He pumps his hand in and out. I’m fighting but loving what he’s doing. My pussy is slurping and smacking while I’m gritting my teeth and rolling my eyes.

  “You hear that, baby?” Tyrik asks. “Your pussy is all hot and ready for me, ain’t it?”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Ah, Dee. Why you been holding this shit out on me, huh? I’ve been rubbing up on you for three months and I haven’t so much as sniffed this shit yet.” His eyes widen as if he’s just had his first idea. Tyrik repositions himself after locking down my legs and literally takes a good whiff of my coochee.

  “Now that’s what I call some prime pussy.”

  He winks at me above my sexy trimmed Mohawk and then dives into me like he’s at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Fuckin’ delicious. If I’d known this nigga was this skilled I would’ve been feeding him morning, noon, and night…and a few midnight snacks.

  Before Tyrik, I didn’t know nothin’ about football and to be honest, I’m still a little shady on the details. The only important thing to know is that Tyrik makes some serious paper. It doesn’t hurt that he’s also fine as hell. Six foot four, about two hundred and twenty pounds, and skin the color of a Hershey’s dark chocolate bar.

  Hmmm-hmmm-hmm.

  All that shit is good, but the first thing I noticed about Tyrik that fateful day at Gold’s Gym was his smile. He had dimples the size of raisins on both cheeks and his teeth were so white and straight I doubt he’s ever had a cavity in his life.

  Yet, Tyrik insists there is another part of him that I don’t know about. He brags about a violent past and being from the street. Usually he’s popping off this nonsense when he’s hanging with his paid entourage and trying to downplay the silver spoon hanging from his mouth. How hard can you be when your father is a black reverend in the Bible Belt?

  No one buys the act. Tyrik is as hard as Will Smith. Hell, Tyrik even had a one-hit rap song a few years back, trying to prove his bad-boy image. Shaquille O’Neal would’ve squashed his ass in a head-to-head rap contest.

  No, my man isn’t a hard-ass and he wouldn’t last a weekend on my side of the tracks, but that’s not why I love him. Okay, maybe I’m not in love with him. Hell, I don’t love anybody.

  Love makes women weak.

  Tyrik Jefferson, a clean-cut, Bible-thumping, suburban momma’s boy, serves one purpose: to get me the hell up out of Bentley Manor.

  “Oh, shit! Oh, shit!” I’m cummin’ all over the place and his tongue and lips are still smacking away. He spreads my ass cheeks and slides in his thick finger.

  I got a freak on my hands.

  Just as I’m about to douse his face with another orgasm, the door bursts open, music fills the room, and Junior spills inside with a couple of giggling hoochies locked on each arm.

  I scream, because I’m naked and I have my legs spread as far as the eye can’t see.

  “What the fuck, Junior?” Tyrik shouts, not bothering to get out of bed. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “Sorry, cuz,” Junior smirks. “I thought this room was empty. My bad.” His hands slither down the women’s asses and give them a hard squeeze, but Junior takes a long look at my gaping pussy and licks his lips.

  Fuck, I grow even wetter, remembering that black marble of a dick I pumped out in the car. Can I even fit something that big inside of me without requiring a visit to the emergency room?

  The way the women gaze at the bed, for a sec, I’m afraid Tyrik is about to issue an invitation for the group to join us.

  “Tyrik,” I hiss and try to kick.

  “Y’all get the fuck out of here.” He waves them off, disgruntled for not having a full-out freak party.

  “All right,” Junior says, directing the women toward the door. “Your loss.” He winks at me. “For now.”

  My pussy throbs at his veiled, yet bold, invitation as he closes the door.

  “Now where were we?” Tyrik asks, turning back to me and licking his lips.

  “You were going to let them join us,” I accuse.

  “What? No I wasn’t.”

  Bullshit. Right then and there while he’s flashing those big dimples at me, I know I have to up my game if I want to keep him.

  “I don’t want another nigga eating this good pussy.” He dips his head low again, but I no longer want an appetizer. Thinking about Junior’s big, black dick, I need the real thing—Now!

  “Fuck me,” I command harshly. No tongue can satisfy the ache I’m experiencing now. “Fuck me, goddamn it.” I’m bucking, struggling, and pulling and about to snap off my wrists.

  “All right, baby. All right.” Tyrik chuckles and reaches over to the nightstand and opens the top drawer. “I’m going to hook you up, baby girl. I’m going to hook you up real good.”

  At t
his point, I’m sure I’m going to come the moment he sticks it in.

  He removes a condom and a wave of disappointment stabs at my heart. I squirm my ass against his rock-hard dick. It’s a good size, but nowhere near as thick and beautiful as what his cousin is packin’. Yet at this point I’ll settle for anything hard.

  I hear the rip of the condom packet. “Do you have to, baby? I want to be able to feel you inside of me.”

  Tyrik pauses. For a brief moment, I see he’s tempted.

  “I’m clean, baby. I swear. I just want to feel you.” I’m wiggling for all it’s worth, but Tyrik banishes the temptation with a firm shake of his head.

  “I can’t take no chances knockin’ you up, baby girl.” He slips the condom on in one quick swoosh and then jacks my legs up to Jesus and plunges deliciously into my pussy.

  Any lingering thoughts of Junior vanish as Tyrik proves he knows how to handle his equipment. He beats every square inch of my pussy into submission and I can hardly breathe while wave after wave of ecstasy crashes through me.

  At one point, I fold like a burrito with my knees tucked near my ears and Tyrik has to do deep knee squats to fuck me in the ass. I’ve lost count of how many orgasms I’ve had, but I can now smell my own scent and his growing musk. It’s a potent aphrodisiac and I’m determined to stay in the game as long as this playa is on the field.

  My wrist free, I peel off his cream-filled condom and then lick and suck his glazed dick and balls as though my life depends on it. In a warped way, it does. Tyrik whimpers, squirms, and calls on his Savior when his final orgasm hits and I swallow every drop like the sex soldier I am. After two hours, a swollen jaw, and a tore-up pussy, Tyrik Jefferson finally rolls his big, muscular ass over and goes to sleep.

  I, on the other hand, prop up against a stack of pillows, light a blunt and contemplate my next move.

  5

  Molly

  White trash. Coon whore. Nigger lover.

  I’ve heard it all. I wish I could say that sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. However, anyone who’s ever been called anything knows that’s a lie. Words kill you softly.