SOME MEN WEAR PANTIES BOOK 1: WET SPECIAL EDITION

1:23 a.m.

Thursday morning:

I awakened from a deep sleep, horny. My husband snored away next to me, sounding like pigs on the loose. My clit was swollen. I had to rub my walls and quietly sing into the dark room to calm it. My pussy's name was Strawberry, and she had a thing for grapes and anal beads. The AC kept me cool. My nookie was hot, and my ass wanted to be good and fucked. I looked at my sleeping husband like he was a Martian.

Should I awaken him?

Hell, yea, Girl! my salty walls screamed with an attitude.

But my heart won over the battle and said, "Let the man sleep. He has a long day at the office. He takes care of his family, so who was I to wake him up?"

"You are a horny bitch, that's who you are. And you need to wake his ass up, Girl. I'm pulsating and I'm wet and right now I feel more like a twat than Hello, Kitty and you need to feed me, Seymour and I wasn't talking Little Shop of Horror Feed Me either, bitch."

I was about to explode. I had to rub my pussy again, to get her to calm down. Shhh, I cooed, hoping she listened. My pussy could be a stubborn bitch when she wanted to. I think she loved my husband more than I did. Strawberry had a mind of her own, and she wanted a Banana in her Split. Deep down inside I knew I could not wake him up. He had to get up at 6 a.m. Plus when we got married, he said he didn't like anyone messing with his body while he slept. He said Lorraina Bobbit forever fucked his head up when she cut off her husband's dick years ago. I understood. Because if somebody cut my pussy, I was seriously putting some unleaded in their asses, and I wasn't about gas.

2:34 a.m.

When the clock struck 2:34 a.m., I was smoking a cigarette. My thighs drummed together like Sheila E. on tour with Prince in the 80s. I needed some loving. I took a cold shower half an hour ago, without using the soap like the white girls do in the movies, since they seemed to be taking all the black men these days. I tried dating a white man, but he smelled like Rufus 24 hours a day, never used a wash rag to wash his ass and tried to stick his fist in my ass while fucking me with his big toe. Oh, hell no, and a no, and a fuck no, and a double you-got-me-fucked-up no. My homeboi, with his chocolate ass, dated a white girl and married her because she did things a black woman wasn't into. You're not pissing on me, taking a dump on me and I wasn't blowing bubbles in your hairy booty hole. I wasn't that type of country gal.

I had to stop fucking with one of my best friends. Cindy and I been close since Pre-K, but when her snow bunny looking ass fucked my daddy in college, right after he dropped us off and we checked into our dorms, I forgave her because we had too much to drink.

Years later she fucked my ex-boyfriend behind his daddy's minivan while his yuck mouth grandma was watching Girls Gone Wild from thirty years ago, when her titties weren't hanging curtains. I scrubbed the ground with that ho and beat her ass. Then a few months later she married my leftovers and had a set of twins. I visited that backstabbing ho at the hospital disguised as a janitor and whipped her ass right in front of her family and wrapped the strings from the Congratulations balloons around her neck and beat the saltine off that bitch. My dirty dick ex-boyfriend tried to grab me. "You see, that's why I don't date black bitches..."

Bap, bap. I punched him in his shit. It took a moment for him to react. "And that's why you date dog-smelling, Rufus Lassie the third bitches. I don't blow in booty holes you secret gay ass undercover brother ass scrub!"

"I'll kill you, bitch!"

"Ahhh, him is big mad. He ain't big mad, him is big mad. You wanna bowl of Fruity Pebbles, punk? Try it! Your swollen-foot daddy is worth half a billion dollars. I'll sue the fuck out of his ass if you try it! You broke my heart for this eater, this slaughter, this hood rat trailer trash ass bitch? I hope she told you that her brother is her cousin on her Mama side, since you like making babies with pigs and her own brothers ran her ass in like a free admission to Mission Impossible 5: hoes on ice."

He pulled out a gun and I ran up out of there before security or the police arrived. One of the cops spotted me, but after spitting on his swollen mushroom head, sucking his balls and riding that black baton until he came in ecstasy on my back, I talked the police chief into arresting him (for pulling a gun on me, and he was on hospital cameras, fuck boy) and the dick-gobbling white ho. Oh, she was mad and her white priviledge card was no match for the power of black pussy on blue-color dick. Call me DJ Quick.

I just needed a quick rinse off. And even that pissed me off because my sweet decadent center talked to me sometimes and that whore said, "Bitch, are you serious? It takes more than cold, purified water to cool the steam in my pink walls."

And Strawberry was right. Most people talked to animals and plants. Well, I talked to my nookie and read it some Robert Frost at times. I swear...Strawberry listened because every time I read "To the Thawing Wind" and "A Girl's Garden," my succulent lips soaked my panties to the point I had to wear a Depends diaper to sooth the ache in my thighs.

I was so horny I was about to fuck the bed. I did not like messing with my stubborn man while he slept. He was anal about things like that. I opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a green permanent marker. Opening the top, the architect in me came alive and I drew something on my inner thigh. Satisfied with the drawing, I then drew Italy next to it in its entire splendor.

Tossing the marker, I turned over and tugged on my husband. He snored even louder, pissing me off.

2:50 a.m.

I looked in on my children. I had to keep a close eye on them, since they were growing boys and growing black boys were more than a hand full. They would drive you up the goddamn wall if you let them. My heart fluttered every time I watched over them. They were the spitting image of their father. I normally read them a bedtime story, but lately I did not feel like imitating Reading Rainbow, especially living with a man who was stingy with the dick.

So, if I did not get any dick my sons were not getting shit! Darren slept soundly, with the Sponge Bob Square Pants blanket pulled up to his chin.

He just turned eleven the other day, and he still had toys he did not open yet, despite him driving me crazy for a year and a half to buy them. I knew why he didn't open them. And I really didn't want to go there, but I had too because it still burned me up.

A few months ago, I threw Darren a huge party, and I had to abruptly cancel it when I walked in on his older brother (my oldest son, Daniel) trying to have sex with my friend's daughter, Sam in Darren's walk-in bedroom closet, while Sam was kissing between Pamela's hips.

I was so stunned I could not stop them initially. I leaned against the wall and pulled out my silver flask and wolfed down some Paul Masson.

Smacking my lips, I tossed the flask and ruined their ménage what-the-hell-ever.

Angrily, I snatched Sam by the weave and threw her against the wall. Her eyes wide, my son covered his face and literally shook with fear. They were seventeen years old. Why was her hot ass in my young son's closet wearing my panties and a leather dominatrix mask on her face? Pamela pulled down her skirt and sprinted past me so fast I could not grab her. I fell on my face when I reached out for her. Stinky little lesbian whore!

So, I took it out on Sam and my dumb ass near-grown son. And if these were the type of decisions he was making, then I was canceling him leaving out of the state to attend college. He had to stay with me, and I would drive his ass until he graduated. If he got a girl pregnant, I was throwing him out of my house with the baby because I was too young to be somebody's grandma and I had other kids to raise. No, ma'am and no, sir if you didn't like it. I didn't give a damn what anybody had to say about it. Suck my clit if you had a problem with it,

Daniel was so petrified he vowed to never have sex again. I did not want to scare or ruin my child, but he was too young to be watching two women suck pussy. When I was done ripping the Apache Tribe from Sam's head, she, sobbing, told me she hated me and that I was an evil bitch.

Oh, Yea? I was not a 17-year-old fucking in somebody else's closet, defiling my home. I did not care how big his stick was. Shaking my head at the memory, I put ear plugs in his ears, remembering why he has not opened those toys yet.

Darren was blinded by pussy all because of his oldest brother set a bad example to intimacy. I lovingly looked at the third oldest, Derrick, twelve, my favorite of the boys. I would never tell them that, of course, but he was so sweet. The Ninja Turtles blanket wrapped around his thighs; his little chest made me smile. He was nosier than an old man wearing dentures. I swore, if I caught him in my panty drawer one more time smelling my lace, I was going to kick his ass to fucking sleep. He might turn out to be my gay, sissy House of Dereon child. I put ear plugs in his ears.

And Delvin. Poor Delvin. He had the biggest package out of all my boys, definitely took after his Daddy. Already, at fifteen years old, I had to stop my female friends from coming around my kids because I caught Bernice, who was a lonely, fat bitch, putting sunscreen on him a little too long and I beat the bitch's ass so badly her Mama did not recognize her face when I was done. And I called the police on her and pressed charges on her no-neck ass, and I beat her ass all the way to the squad car. That's a damn shame. You could not trust a bitch around your husband or your fine sons. Ridiculous! She called me a few weeks later, pleading.

"Why are you calling me, bitch?"

"Listen to me! I was only putting sunscreen on him, nothing more!"

"On his back, yes. But his upper thighs, and my son clearly had a hard on and wasn't trying to stop asking you to rub it on his nipples. Bitch I stood in the background and saw it all. You didn't even inform me or kick his ass. He's supposed to be your nephew. He called you TeeTee (Auntie) since he was five, bitch."

"He talked me into it!"

"You better not bring your ham hock, neckbone sucking ass around me or my family again, bitch. Do not call my phone and ask Jesus for forgiveness because you don't have anything coming from over here but another ass whipping if I catch you talking to my fucking family! I don't care if my sons are thirty years old in the future, stay your ugly ass far, far away from them. Next time I will kill you, bitch and sit on the curb till the cops come and piss on your ass when they arrive after kicking you in your flat ass. Play with it, I'll be your toy. Bye, ho."

I put ear plugs in his ears, kissed his forehead, and turned off the night light, pushing Berniece cradle-robbing ass behind me.

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...?"