An Introduction, Not an Apology

A collection of short fiction, indulgent truths, and written appetite.

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Mama Ain’t Raise No Bitch

on hunger

Me and him had history. We’d known each other since we were kids, but none of that mattered now. Walking back into the house, he stopped in the kitchen because the munchies had him bad. We’d just blazed down.

He was snacking on potato chips when I plopped onto the couch. Walking into the living room he snatches the remote playfully. “Gimme that,” he said, clicking through the smart TV. “Netflix, Hulu, HBO…”

“Hulu,” I said. “But turn on some action shit.” Knowing good and well I wasn’t thinking about a movie. I wanted to make one.

I know he’s a family friend, but I’m already turned on. All brain power gone. I don’t give a fuck. We land on Taken. I get up, head to the kitchen, grab the pizza rolls from the freezer and the scissors by the sink. “Aye, where the pans at? You know your mom stay reorganizing.”

He opens a secret cabinet behind me and hands it over. Cutting open the bag, I turn around and suddenly he’s standing behind me — leaning against the counter — I can smell him from here, smelling edible. My pussy is talking louder than my brain.

“Thank you,” I say, turning to face the oven sliding the rolls onto the pan. I turn the knob to 350 and open the oven, my ass brushes against his dick. He's closed the space between us. That’s it. Fuck this movie. He wants to play.

I close the oven door and back into him until he hits the counter. “Excuse me,” I say. “You good, baby?” Arlo asks.

I shoot him a look and walk back into the living room, grab the remote, flop onto the couch, legs up, press play. We’re thinking the same thing. We don’t give a fuck. We’re grown. And we ain’t even related for real.

He comes around the couch and drops by my feet, lifting them into his lap, rubbing them. I’m shocked — the scrawny country boy is gone. Now he’s six feet tall, big brown eyes, full lips that stay moist, a beard he runs his hands through, that pecan tan you only get where cicadas sing, and a voice smooth as butter.

“What are you doing, sir?” I ask. “Relaxing you,” he says.

I test the waters. Stand in front of him. Take my skirt off. Standing in full glory in my Black lace panties. See-through. His eyes lock in.

“Yeah, well kissing this pussy is gonna relax you.”

My brain finally tries to kick in — too late. He grabs my hips, pulls me closer, kisses each one slow, tongue dragging across my skin. He inhales. “Mhm.”

The pheromones got him. He pushes me back onto the carpet and follows, no talking — just hunger. Panties off. Legs around him.

He kisses down my chest, sucking my nipples, he moves lower. Spreading me open like a feast. Taking my big toe into his mouth first, I can tell his lips are soft, teasing. I’m impatient.

Like he's reading my mind, he drops down, eyes locked on mine as his tongue circles my clit. Country men know how to appreciate a meal. Damn.

I grind into his mouth, moving my hips to fuck his face, grabbing his head. He takes my hands and pins them on my stomach, sliding a finger in — slow, deep — then another. Smiling while I squirm. Asshole. “Let me hear you.”

I like a challenge.

My back bends and his lips meet my clit, he sucks, I moan. “That’s one,” he says. “Fuck you.” “Oh, I am.”

Standing he strokes himself as he strips. I kneel, mouth wide open, drool sliding my chin like I haven't eaten in days. I take control — no hands — eyes locked on his. I graze my bottom teeth across that thick vein of his dick, and I swallow him whole letting him hit the back of my throat and just work. Pinning his hands to his legs, Im in lala land, reveling in the sensation of his dick sliding in and out my throat. I got gifted of course.

“Fuuuckkk” “That’s one,” I say.

Growling, he lifts me, bends me over the couch, grips my neck, In one thrust he's fucking me slow and deep. Hitting a spot that had my vision blurring. “That’s two,” he murmurs.

My voice gets guttural, legs shaking. He rubs my clit, grips my hair so tight i'm forced to look up at him. Biting my lip with a smile. We come hard. He's milking himself for every last drop. Then pulls out and pats my ass.

I wiggle. “Shit, girl.” “Welcome home.”

The Pizza rolls? burned to hell. No regrets.

Later, in the shower, my phone buzzes.

ARLO: Round 2 tonight? I’m still hungry.