Chapter 3 I'm a Christian (Husband)

3:15 a.m.

I crept back into the bed next to my husband. He did not stir. I was giving him an evil look. Wake up! I wanted to get fucked. You worked too much. You spent time at church too much. Where and when did I get my time? I was trying to be considerate, but my patience was weighing thin.

I wanted my husband to handle me like those porn stars. Hell, I was his porn star. I even had a stripping pole built in this damn room, and I hardly used it. Who wanted to strip to themselves?

I couldn't awaken him.

4:03 a.m.

I slapped my husband on his ass so hard he jumped out of a deep sleep, turning on the light. "What the hell was that?" he yelled, his eyes evil slits of anger.

I rubbed my pussy, pulling on the cigarette. I blew smoke in his face. "Baby, time to get up."

He relaxed. "Yea. It's time for me to get ready for work."

"No," I said, winking at him. I crossed my legs, clad in some heels and the sexiest lingerie in my closet. "It's time for you to go to work on something."

He eyed me suspiciously. "Work on what?"

"Pounding this pussy into a glazed donut!"

I blew more smoke in his contorted face.

4:10 a.m.

He looked at me like shit was wiped on my face, and he still hasn't punished this pussy because she'd been really bad. I turned on Janet Jackson's "Discipline" song and hoped he got a clue, but he didn't even have a miracle because he was more lost than a cow staring at a new fence and a deer trapped in new headlights. Rolling over in the bed he grunted like a fish out of water and the Atlantic Ocean was fifty miles from our two-bedroom, two bath home.

"No."

"No, what, nigga?"

"I'm tired!"

"You've been asleep, for hours. For a sit-down job, you act like its road construction. You squat to take a piss, too? I thought I was the one with titties!"

"No, baby. And that is final!"

"No! Final...? I'm your gahdamn wife! Are you serious?"

He faked a smile. "Baby. I'm a Christian. We don't eat vagina."

I was disgusted. "Vagina? Motherfucker I have a pussy! Her name is Strawberry, remember? And she pushed three of your kids out like she's Hercules. And you can't eat my pussy? You can't show her some appreciation?"

He put the sheet over his face. "Turn out the light. It's 4 a.m. in the morning and the kids have to get up for school at 7:20."

I snatched the cover from over his face, my titties tingling and my pussy wet. I was so wet I thought Indonesia planted trees in my clit.

He sat up, getting upset. "I don't have time..."

"But when you want your dick sucked and my finger in your booty hole to make you cum harder, you know how to be obedient then, don't you?"

He was nervous. "Shhhh, the kids are...

"Shhh, my ass, gahdamn it! Fuck Christians and that manmade religious psychobabble! When you're married you forsake all others? Don't you remember that passage from the Bible, since you're throwing it in my face? And this is my house," I went on, getting out of the bed. "I can say whatever the fuck I want. If the kids don't like it they can pack their shit and I'll call the orphanage. Maybe I can save some money on my utilities if I send their asses to boarding school."

He lightened up. He hated seeing me mad, and I was terribly upset. He loved me so much it oozed from his pores. He tried to smile genuinely this time. Scratching his nuts, he said, "Why are you so upset?"

Um. I want some dick! From my husband! Get a clue.

"You haven't sucked my pussy in nine months. And the only dick you seem to give is Leave Me Alone Dick, and that lasts for, what, ten minutes? I want you to stuff that big ass dick inside me and plow away like Frederick Douglas planting okra for the Communist Party because this pussy is not a little garage, and I'm not Cardi B! I got that H-A-P, hot ass pussy.

He choked on his spit when I said that, burning his throat.

I went on. "And I want my husband. Fuck me on the table and slap my ass cheeks with the Ranch Dressing bottle. Fuck me with your amazing skill set. Hell, splash some hot sauce on my ass and munch, munch until my clit feels like KFC!"

4:15 a.m.

He stood up and closed the bedroom door. "Can you be any more vulgar?"

Giving me a very deranged look, he rolled his eyes and went into the bathroom. Sexy in his pajama pants, he had a gut, but I did not care because the gut didn't take the inches from his thick dick. A huge tattoo of Florida was on his entire back. He got it when he was fifteen.

Back when he hated Christianity. Now this Christianity shit was about to make my pussy plead insanity. I loved sucking his dick, but he wanted to act like he was all that and my pussy made his ass some kids and made him strong beyond his wildest dreams. His hands on his hips, I heard the piss falling into the toilet water. Bitch, do something! He was your husband! You did not need permission to touch his dick. Be aggressive and assertive. You wanted Equal Rights, then gahdamn it, fight for it.

Stand up and take that shit!

Hell, yea.

Strawberry was right!

I burst open. Trembling, I walked up behind him and rubbed his ass, flicking my tongue on his left ear lobe. I felt his breathing pattern change. Rubbing my sweet nectar, I wiped the juices all over his neck, sucking it off. He almost caved in, but the excavation team in his nuts were not ready to find Nefertiti and this pissed me off. He frowned, but I did not care. When I married him, I married his dick as well? And it was not all about sex, but gahdamn, fuck me in this lifetime.

I walked around him, sat on the toilet and his pissed soaked into my sexy lingerie. I wiped it all over me, tasting some of it in my mouth. Licking my lips, I spread my legs and he saw my drawings.

"What is that? Italy? Bangkok? Why would you draw that on your skin?"

I was manipulating my aching clit, sliding the heel of my pump along his right leg.

"Italy is shaped like a what?"

He shook his head. "A boot?"

"And Bangkok is pronounced how?"

"Bang-cock."

"Get it. Bang Cock. Boot. Bang that Cock in this Boot and knock the dust of my pussy. And you're a Harvard graduate?"

"Is everything about sex...?"