Ten Thirty-Eight
CHAMSIL
Published by CHAMSIL at Smashwords
Copyright 2009 CHAMSIL
Hello there. My name is Jacorri Isaacs. I am a sixteen year old, who hails from the Motor City of Detroit, Michigan. East Side, baby! Or more specifically, the land of East Side Hoes And Money, as the legendary rapper, Esham, so eloquently put it many, many years ago, after the release of his debut album, Boomin’ Words from Hell. Ever heard it before? Probably not. That album was very, very underground and came out in the year nineteen hundred and eighty-nine, which was four years before I even came into existence on this fucking planet.
I’m a young dude, but my older cousins, Marcus and Nitto, got me hip to all the old-school music, which makes me feel as if I grew up in the exact same period in which the music actually was pumping out of the various whips that navigated down Jefferson, Woodward, Gratiot or any other popular Detroit throughway. I got much love for my city, regardless of what any newspaper, news station, local or national, has to say about it. What do I say in response to the hate? Simply...“FUCK THEM!” But, it’s not about them. It’s all about me and what I want to share with you, at this moment.
I am an only child, who lives with my father, Walter Lee, a construction worker who has struggled most of my life to keep a roof over both of our damn heads. But, my father has done everything within his power to keep us maintained. Even if that meant that he wasn’t able to spend as much time with me. But, I totally understood. No matter what the situation was or how strenuous things became, I’ve always known that my father loved me. I, in return, loved and still love him with all of my heart. We’re all we got.
My mother, Sonique, fled our residence when I was twelve. She had an extramarital affair that I witnessed when my father went to Memphis with one of his close friends on a weekend visit to see his daughter. I guess mama couldn’t wait to have some fun her damn self, during this brief period of freedom. While my father was making moves down the interstate, she had this gangsta ass nigga up in my house. The nigga name was Myron. He had a reputation in my neighborhood, too. He had bullet wounds, tattoos, and muscles so large that it could easily be assumed that he experienced extreme difficulty when attempting to wipe his ass after taking a shit. The plan was to head directly to one of my friend’s house to play basketball. He just lived around the corner. But, I made a beeline to the nearby candy store for a pack of Mystery Mix Now & Laters. That was when I saw my mother let this nigga in through our front door. Scandalous.
Since it was the summer, the windows were wide open in my house. Niggas couldn’t afford an air conditioner. I, as well as the whole fucking neighborhood, heard so many expletives fly from my mother’s filthy mouth during their erotic episode, that it was absolutely embarrassing. This nigga, who was not my father, was fucking the Turkey Dressing out of my damn mother and I was pissed. I hated to see my father getting played like a game of Ghettopoly. Initially, I really wanted to storm into my house and fuck this nigga up by stabbing him in the back of his head with the sharp, pointed edge of my compass from math class, mid-fuck. But, I digress. I continued on to play basketball, thus allowing her to continue to fuck, suck and do whatever else under the moon with this nigga that she apparently desired. Regardless if she was my mother or not, I was in no position to hate on a nigga for clearly being given the ‘green light’ to stick his dick in her pussy, mouth or ass with supreme authority. My beef was with her, not him. She was the one in the wrong.
No matter how hard I tried to refrain from telling my father what happened, for the simple fact that I really didn’t want to get in the middle of grown folks drama, I finally confessed. Call me a snitch ass nigga if you want to! That’s my dad for crying out loud! My father deserved a hell of a lot more than what he was getting in this situation with my mother. Who knows what the fuck she could’ve did with that nigga, Myron. The last thing that my dad needed was to be kissing her all in the mouth, after she was fresh from sucking Myron’s dick, unknowingly. That would be a cold-blooded maneuver, indeed. At that point, I put nothing past her cheating ass. If my dad wanted a deep passionate tongue kiss, she would have definitely obliged. I know this. That fact alone, made my revelation even more necessary. However, once I did, the wick to the fireworks was lit and a loud explosion followed. My father was livid. He confronted her about it and after a heated exchange, he told her to get the fuck out. He tried his best to not expose me as the rat, but ultimately, he was unsuccessful. Interesting enough, she never really put up a fight. My mother packed up her shit and left for my Aunt Francine’s house. She only lived fifteen minutes or so away from us. My aunt was always quick to help out family, even if family didn’t really give a shit about her well-being. That couldn't be me.
As my mother left the house with her belongings in tow, she cut her eyes at me and mouthed, “I hate you.”
I quickly responded with a stiff middle finger and mean mug in clear view.
I angrily thought, how is this bitch gonna be mad at me when she was the one who cheated? Ain’t that some shit?!
Regardless of what had transpired between my mother and father, life without her in our household just felt a little strange. I had become so used to having that female presence around. Now, our home had become a nucleus and hotbed of testosterone. Luckily, my father and I had a great relationship. Otherwise, it may have been a bad situation with us going head-to-head, for the simple fact that he and I are alike in so many ways. My mother had bounced around for a little bit, before she ended up defecting and finally settling in Charlotte, North Carolina. We talk on occasion, but things really haven’t been the same since that incident. We have not seen each other in quite some time.
I am currently a junior at King High, and things can be a little rough at the damn school. I’ve done well, academically, despite this fact. But, hey, what inner city public high schools do you know that don’t have a little rough edge to them? You won’t find many.
So, being a sixteen year old young man, I am definitely to the point to where I strongly desire to get some ‘carnalities’ introduced into my life. Mind you, I have practiced the skillful art of masturbation, quite regularly, for some years now. I clearly remember the first time where I jacked off and couldn’t even nut. But, I felt that special ‘tingle.’ So, I knew I was experiencing something. The only thing that was missing was pre-teen cream being extracted from the hole positioned at the top of the head of my dick. But hell, that was then and this is now, so it’s whatever.
I’m about five feet, eleven inches tall. I weigh about one hundred and eighty-five pounds. My complexion is about two shades above Wesley Snipes. Wait, I meant to say Wesley Pipes. I only hope I can fuck like him when I get my first piece of pussy. Maybe I can coach ‘em like he does. That nigga is mad funny.
I keep a baby afro taper, which accentuates the shape of my face perfectly. Most importantly, I have a slender build, which has come courtesy of a home workout that I do on a consistent basis. So, with that revelation, yes, I think I’m a little fine. There’s nothing wrong with being confident, is it? Hell, I don’t think so.
But, besides being nice looking, I’m also a nice guy to interact with. I’m outgoing, regularly positive, helpful, considerate, etc. You name it, that’s me. I am associated with most things that are good. Not saying that a brotha can’t have a mean streak on occasion, or a dark side. But, honestly I like who I am and strongly desire to keep my life drama-free. Especially, after the shit I went through with my folks.
Lately, I’ve been getting lots of rhythm from these young babes that parade through the halls of King High. My ego is definitely getting stroked. I can’t even lie. I can be at lunch, minding my own business, and they come up to me and offer casual conversation. Now, I’m always down to chat, so I extend the invite to sit down and shoot the shit. On many occasions, and because my hormones tend to be out of control, I see their lips moving, but I mentally block out what they’re saying, simply because my mind is totally focused on what lies beneath the surface of their garments. To echo the sentiments of another old-school rapper, Juvenile, these words perfectly apply and I would consistently think: them titties sittin' nice, yeah, I wanna bite, yeah, I could fuck you right, yeah, all night, yeah, wanna bring ya to my house, yeah, on the couch, yeah, knock the pussy out, yeah, get the mouth, yeah.
Look, I can’t help it that my dick stays hard like cinder blocks at one of my father’s construction sites. I need to fuck and I need to fuck like...yesterday. Putting a strangle hold on my own dick is no longer getting it done. Live action, like the WWE, is now what I crave. If I have it my way, I will be leaping off of the top rope with a flying elbow, penetrating somebody’s canvas before long. Oh yeah...it’s gonna happen.
***
Well, about two days ago, I caught word that two of my classmates had been overheard talking about how they would love to have sex with me. To be more specific, they used the phrase, “fuck the shit of out that nigga.” Just the mere thought of a female, better yet two, using graphic language to describe what they would do to me, brought on extreme excitement. But, my older cousins, Marcus and Nitto always told me to never let a female know that I am too interested. Simply play it cool. That way, I won’t get pimped. These were words to definitely heed. But, hell, I was damn near cutting a hole through my jeans when I heard about what they said. I cannot be held accountable. I cannot be blamed. So, being the inquisitive person that I am, I took it upon myself to confirm whether or not the things that I heard were true. This conversation was intended to take place during the ride home on our school bus that paraded through the East Side from King. But, by the time I got on the bus, it was jam-packed and the girls were seated all the way in the back. Thus, I had to wait. Luckily for me, they got off at the same stop as I. It shouldn’t be that hard, right? To be more specific...my question shouldn’t be that hard. I know...I’m a damn fool.
As the bus tires bounce over pothole after pothole, I sit and wonder, what should be my opening line? Fuck all that. I just need to be myself and not sugar coat anything. Be polite and just introduce my inquiry in the most natural way possible. That way is to be honest. Still, I am hoping that the information that I received isn’t a lie, because if it is and I get dissed, I’m putting my Size Twelve Lebron’s in somebody’s mouth. They know exactly who they are, too. One more stop and it’s goin’ down! I run my hands across my thighs, as I eagerly anticipate when this fucking substitute bus driver will make it to our final destination. I swear I hate substitutes. As soon as the bus approaches the stop, I grab my bag and stand up, so I can make my exit, post up and wait for the tasty specimens of my attention to hop off. Boy, when they hop off, they both look so damn good. Their ‘amenities’ are definitely on point and I internally pray that my fuck dreams will come true.
I politely ask them if they would mind walking with me, because I have something that I want to talk to them about. Without hesitation, they oblige. On top of that, they both have smiles upon their faces. This is a great sign, as far as I’m concerned. Our stroll continues. I relay to them that I heard that they made comments about wanting to have sex with me.
“Hell yeah we want to fuck you. You are fuckin’ fine and we definitely want to see what you’re workin’ with.” The thicker beauty, Zenobia, quickly emphasizes.
I totally did not expect the blunted nature of her response. Taken aback for just a minute, I then regain my composure after taking a swallow. The confirmation has been made. I ponder, what do I say next? I’ve never been presented with an opportunity like this, so it appears that this is all happening so fast.
“Okay. What are y’all Friday night looking like?” I ask with a mild look of curiosity on my face.
I quickly remembered that my father is scheduled to work the overnight shift as a security guard at a second job that he recently acquired. The opportunity could not be more perfect. But, it was only perfect if I can seal this deal. I patiently wait for an answer, while carefully studying their body language.
“I don’t have shit goin’ on.” Keemah, the svelte young lady with the complexion of a Skor candy bar, responds while winking her eye at me.
I look away temporarily, as we continue walking down the street, knowing that I might be just one answer away from a night of certified de-virginized fucking that only A.C. Green could dream of. Like I told you earlier, I’m young, but I know about all that old-school shit. I’m wise beyond my years.
“Neither do I.” Zenobia confirmed.
Man, I feel just like Ralphie on “A Christmas Story,” when he came downstairs and ravaged the living room in search of the infamous Red Rider BB Gun. You know the movie that comes on every year and runs for twenty-four hours straight on TBS on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day? Yeah, that one. But, I also hope that I don’t end up on the receiving end of disappointment, like Ralphie was when he came up empty-handed courtesy of his own search. I must come up with what to say next. THINK JACORRI! Any suggestions? Never mind. Keep following. I got this.
“Well, I am totally game for making this happen, if you ladies are. I think you both are very, very sexy. Why don’t you both come to my crib on Friday night at, let’s say, ten-thirty?” I suggest.
Internally, I ask myself, did I just call them ‘sexy?’ I honestly think that they are both straight up freakazoids, but ‘sexy’ is the best word that I can muster at this moment in time. I simply have to play the game. My index and middle fingers are interlocked tight as I eagerly await their responses.
“I think I can answer for the both of us and say that...we’ll be there.” Zenobia responds after glancing at Keemah for what seemed like a split-second, tops.
It is like these girls have mind-reading powers or something. Not a word uttered was between them. They just know what they want. They want...my dick. It’s set. I just need to get myself, both mentally and physically, prepared for what is in store.
***
Friday night has arrived and it is eight o’clock on the dot. I’m sitting in my dark ass living room, solo, playing Madden ‘09 on Playstation 2. I’m fully engulfed in an exhibition match against the New Orleans Saints with my sorry ass hometown Lions, knowing they suck skunk funk-laced balls. We can’t afford a PS3, so I am forced to play games on this ancient ass system. I was like seven when this shit came out. As a matter of fact, the anticipation was so enormous, that my damn daddy traveled all the way to Southfield and waited in line from like three in the morning with one hundred other muthafuckas outside of Target, in order to buy it. Almost a decade later...we still have this piece of shit.
I feel good and have already taken care of all the necessary encounter pre-requisites. Shower? Check. Brushed teeth? Check. Baby oil? Check. KY Jelly? Check. Magnum XXXL’s? Check. Dick with the circumference of the wrist you carry? Double check. I also got that TAG body spray on, so I’m ready for these girls to be drawn in once they smell my exotic aroma. My body will be all over their bodies immediately afterwards. I know what you’re probably thinking. This lil’ nigga has never had some pussy before, so why in the fuck is he so confident? My response? BECAUSE I CAN DO THAT! Just playin’, just playin’. Moving on.
Being totally fed up with my team’s performance in this fucking game, I decide that a better way for me to get geared up for tonight’s extravaganza is to listen to some music. I use my index finger to open the glass door that keeps our CD collection enclosed inside the black tower. After I strum up and down the rows, I finally make a selection deemed most appropriate for the moment. I slowly open the case, pull out the disc and put it into our single carriage, this...‘Hanna Montana 2’ CD! It’s the truth! That damn Miley Cyrus goes hard with her bubble gums. I feel that I need to lay down for a little bit, in order to preserve all the energy that I can, because I know that I’m gonna need it. The grooves of “You and Me Together” sounding from the stereo speakers sends me into deep relaxation mode. It feels so good. I find it hard to keep my eyes open. This couch is just so damn comfortable. I seriously don’t think that it has ever felt this good. I unsheathe my hand and use my thumb to pacify myself. I can’t help it! It’s a bad habit that I’ve had difficulty shaking since I was a little kid. The backside of my thumb rests comfortably between the roof of my mouth and my tongue. A short nap is imminent. I don’t intend to sleep too long. Keep watch over me, would you, please?
***
“Ding...Dong,” the doorbell sounds, which awakes me from my sleep, almost immediately.
I wipe the excess slobber that trickled from my mouth, mid-slumber. My eyes, initially fuzzy, begin to regain focus slowly as I look at the clock situated on the shelf underneath the television set.
It reads “10:38."
The moment of sexual truth has finally arrived. The doorbell rings again as I slowly make my way to the front door. I pull the front door curtains open slowly and see Keemah and Zenobia blowing kisses at me. I am indeed smitten and proceed to open the door and let them in. They enter my crib, looking around and stuff, like they were casing the joint. They better not even think about getting slick, because they’ll both get fucked up. My father and I don’t have enough as it is, so I’ll be damned if anybody try to take anything from us. Do you think that I’m a tad bit too paranoid? Hell, I might be, but niggas be gettin’ their burglarization on all the damn time in the city. This is exactly why we rock the burglar bars on our windows. Bring it back, Jacorri! No more thoughts of people taking what’s yours and get your mind back on some pussy...better yet...two.
Keemah and Zenobia look as fine as ever and the smell of bananas permeate the atmosphere as they make their way to my living room sofa, for which I have just invited for them to sit and get comfortable. I walk to the kitchen to retrieve three glasses from the cabinet. I fill each glass with ice cubes that come courtesy of the ice trays that I provided with water just a couple days ago. Niggas can’t afford an ice maker. I fill their glasses with fresh...tap water, and mine with pre-packaged Deer Park bottled water that came from Kroger. They will never know, right? All water is clear, for the most part, and they just cannot get the good shit. Sorry ladies, but that is for the men of the house. I brought their glasses into the living room, distributed their cold beverages, and then sat three coasters on the glass coffee table. They each take delicate sips from their glasses, successfully saturating their pallets. I scurry back to the kitchen to get my glass, then return and sit smack dab in between them on the sofa. I am now the seasoned chicken breast that rests between their slices of wheat bread, creating the perfect sandwich. Simply...delicious. We engage in conversation.
“So, are your ladies enjoying your water?” I ask while laughing hysterically on the inside.
“You never even asked us what we wanted to drink, Jacorri.” Zenobia responds with a hint of slight disappointment.
“Girl, niggas are broke these days! I got the same thing y’all got. You ain’t noticed?” I ask, with intent to calm to the tension.
“I guess you’re right, baby. I’m sorry for seeming non-appreciative.” she apologizes.
“Keemah, what’s up with you, sweetness? Why are you so quiet?” I ask with intent to open the girl up a little bit, before I literally open her up.
“I’m just chillin’, Jacorri. Taking everything in, that’s all.” she responds before taking another sip of water from her glass.
Is it just me, or is this girl a little too shy to be partaking in some shit like this? I think that it’s only right that I make sure that everything is good.
“Are you sure that...” I attempt to speak, but then I immediately feel Zenobia’s big, soft, luscious titties brush up against my left arm.
Her supple lips and scorching hot tongue are feasting on my left earlobe. This shit feels so fucking good. My dick is obviously in full agreement, because he is staring at me...with that ‘thick’ look. Keemah decides that she is not going to be left out and follows suit by evening out the attention to my right ear, but she takes it a step further and starts jamming her tongue directly into my ear canal. Meanwhile, both of them are subtly stroking my pre-manhood with their palms. This simultaneous delivery of attention excites me more than I can even comprehend. I guess my heavy breathing serves as a clear indication of the effect that it is having on me. Good thing that I’m not asthmatic, because if so, I’d be fucked, with no inhaler available to me at this very moment.
Then, Keemah suddenly arises and walks in the direction of the doorway to the living room and slowly rotates the dimmer switch on the adjacent wall. She is definitely setting the mood, as the room gets darker, oh so slowly. I look on with amazement at her deliciously chocolate skin tone and her cleft chin. Both are a definite turn-on for me.
Zenobia, who sees an opportunity to take control of both me and the situation, begins to unfasten the button and zipper on my pants. It is clearly obvious that she desires to taste me. At this time, I am harder than Chinese arithmetic, Honors level. She reaches past the liners of my boxer shorts and grabs a hold of my dick and begins to move her hand up and down, repeatedly. Keemah, who has since returned, advises me to lift my whole body off of the couch, so she can take off both my pants and boxers in their entirety. Easier access to my loins is clearly desired. I comply.
“I am technically still a virgin ladies, so please be very...very...gentle with me.” I plead with my palms raised, as sweat cascades from my neck.
For some reason, that revelation must have given them extra adrenaline, because the look that they gave each other immediately after that, let me know what I was in some serious trouble. I know you saw it, too. So, please stop actin’ like you didn’t.
***
Zenobia extends her very long tongue, which I didn’t notice earlier. She creates a wet trail from the underside of my throbbing pre-manhood to the tip and begins to tease the tip very slowly with the end of her tongue. I notice a thin strand of sticky pre-cum stretch between her tongue and the head of my dick. I honestly cannot believe what my eyes are witnessing. I am almost overcome with various emotions that dance around in my head. She looks at me. I look back, winking my right eye in her direction. I desire more. It is at this moment that she lowers her mouth downward onto my swollen shaft and starts sucking my dick, taking in every inch of what I have to offer. She is introducing so much wetness that I feel like I have just cascaded across a Slip and Slide. My mind is frantically processing every aspect of this encounter. She continues to slob and bob at a moderate pace. I breathe even heavier. Keemah, still determined not to be neglected, begins to spiral her elongated tongue across then suck on my engorged sack. I just hope I don’t have a heart attack. I am way too young for that shit.
My dick is literally being handled and exchanged like a track meet baton as I observe it transfer out of one mouth and into another with consistency. It feels as if they are trying to outdo each other, like this is some sort of competition. Hell, their antics actually excite me even more. They keep gazing at me, as if for me to give a non-verbal signal of who is the best brain surgeon. However, I am having no parts of this, and simply allow my eyeballs to roll to the back of my head and lips to be wetted courtesy of my own saliva. Within five minutes, I release my molten cream into Zenobia’s eagerly awaiting mouth. She takes it all in, with no look disgust in sight.
After I clean up, we all know that it is time to get down to the real business at hand. That happens to be the business of fucking. Shit, even you know what is about to happen. I re-assume the position on the couch that I had earlier and watch as the ladies disrobe directly in front of me. The deliciousness of their nude bodies causes my observing eyes to fill with explicit joy. Zenobia’s thick stature, including voluptuous titties with areola rings the size of a saucers cause my mouth to salivate. She also has a well-manicured pussy. I’m almost certain that she spends ‘stylist time’ getting that snapper groomed as nice as it looks to me right now. She is a perfectionist, indeed. I look over at Keemah and baby girl looks like two scoops of premium chocolate Breyers ice cream. Her jet black hair sits right at her shoulders. I can’t wait to grab and put that shit into my own personal, handheld ponytail.
As they both inch closer toward me, I reach into my pants pocket and retrieve a condom. After ripping it open with my incisors, I gently roll it down my stiff shaft. I am ready. Fuck that, I am beyond ready. Keemah uses her index, middle, and ring fingers to nudge my head and neck backwards. I flash a subtle smile back in her direction. She does not smile back. She simply climbs up the couch, with her body perfectly aligned with where my face is located. To be more specific, with her pussy perfectly aligned with where my face is located. With no further delay, she lowers her juicy pussy squarely on my lips and gyrate her hips in a counterclockwise motion. I am in no position to refute anything. I simply...eat like I, apparently, am supposed to.
“Chew this pussy the fuck up, nigga!” she instructs, as she fucks my face like I’ve angered her in some way and this is her form of special revenge.
She is mad aggressive on my ass. However, I stiffen my tongue to further, and continuously, penetrate her pulsating clit, in order to even the score.
As my face becomes creamier by the minute, I feel some warmth cascade slowly onto my dick. Once entry is achieved, that is when the repeated bouncing begins. Zenobia places her hands on my shins for support as she guides her juicy pussy up and down on me.
“You...ain’t...gon’...be...no...fuckin’...virgin...af-ter...tonight...with...your...big...ass...dick...SHIT!” Zenobia stresses in between in and outs.
I use my right palm to smack Keemah’s ass with repeated strokes of excitement, and use the left palm to squeeze Zenobia’s ass and she continues her bouncing ball antics. It wasn’t before long that I start repeatedly jabbing Zenobia’s asshole with my thumb. She releases a high-pitched scream and immediately, my dick is completely drowned in cum. This chick literally lost control and fell off the dick, quickly balling up in the fetal position.
“I can’t fuck with yo ass, no mo’! FUCK THAT SHIT! You ain’t killin my ass!” Zenobia stresses as she crawls over to the corner of the living room and lies out on the floor.
I look down upon her, baffled and flattered. Internally, my body feels like a powder keg just exploded. I’m geeked as hell. However, Keemah is clearly not finished. I quickly discard the used condom, grab a hot soapy towel in order to eliminate the excess juice and apply a brand new condom.
Keemah wastes no time and kneels in front the couch with her ass tilted in order for me to take that pussy from the back. As a matter of fact, she even spanks her own ass, tempting me further to fuck the cow dung out of her. Meanwhile, Zenobia is knocked the fuck out in the corner. I smile. After the head of my throbbing pre-manhood pierces her pussy lips, she lets out a mild sigh. I love it. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. I give her every inch that she desires and more. Her pussy contours to my dick so perfectly. Yes. I feel her titties slap against the top side of my hands, which are positioned on her ribcage, with each powerful thrust that I apply. In a decision to really get crazy with it, I grab a firm hold of her shoulders with both my hands, and begin ramming the lining out of that pussy. Her screams are deafening, which drive me wild. I just hope that the next door neighbors don’t call the cops to my crib, with the assumption that somebody is getting either raped or murdered. There will be none of that around here! She starts spraying cum all over the damn place. Meanwhile, I’m still fuckin’ her. But, twenty more strong pumps, and I feel the tingle in my spine, and I knew exactly what that means. I start convulsing, damn near seizure-like, as I pull my dick out and let it all go into the condom. I, personally, dispose of that bitch, shortly thereafter. There will be no unexpected surprises for me after my very first encounter.
The ladies get themselves together and leave my crib...satisfied. I thanked them for the experience, as it was truly a learning one, indeed. They attempted to sync up with me next weekend, and I tell them that I’ll think about it, knowing damn well that my interest in re-kindling that connection again is very low.
It is time...for me to get some new pussy.
10:38
a CHAMSIL story