Be Careful What You Wish For
I had it all. Career, beautiful wife, two beautiful kids that I was nothing but proud of. But like most selfish bastards, I still wasnít content with these blessings. I wanted more, needed more. More money, more power, more women. Oh yeah, always more women. After all, I was everything a woman could possibly want in a man. So what I was married. I paid all the bills, bought her all the little things my wife wanted, all the trinkets to decorate her with. Just because I liked a bit of variety every once in a while didnít mean I didnít love my wife. Variety was the spice of life, right? But I would never leave her for any of the trifling hoes I spent time with. My wife gave me that feeling of comfort, that feeling when you only want to sleep in your own bed.
But the hoes? They were like a overnight snooze at a first class hotel, where you feel comfort and you digginí it big time because of the newness of it, but you donít really want to LIVE there. Just a hit and a run. Guilt? What was there ever for me to feel guilty about? Like I said I was everything a woman could ever want in a man. At least that was my feel before HER. Before reality slapped me hard as a muthafucker and had me grounded forever. One thing was certain. The old saying be careful what you wish for, has a total new meaning for me, and taught me something that I will NEVER forget.
"Mr. Turner, your next interview is here," came the soft voice of my secretary over the intercom.
"Send her in."
As my office door swung open, I was greeted by the delightful vision of female perfection. The one thought that came in my mind was damn, I wish I could tap that onion. Miss Lady had a sense of self-confidence about herself. A tall, brown-skinned sistah with big soft looking breasts, a tiny waist line and the kind of hips that looked like they were use to riding. She also had these super long legs that immediately gave me a vision of them being hooked around my neck while I banged the hell outta that puntang.
"Well good afternoon, Iím Alan Turner," I introduced myself.
"That I know, how do you do? Justina Graves." Her sexy voice just purred at me. I also saw a glitter in her eye, that told me along with her sex built body that she wasnít some lil innocent that I had to worry about ravishing. I wanted to move fast with this, maybe get into her by eveningís end. I right away started thinking about the excuse I could give my wife Stephanie of why I wasnít coming home that night. Yeah it was time for a roll in a first class hotel. The normal comforts of home and wife be damn tonight.
"Can I ask you something?" I approached her right away, which was nothing unusual for me, I was a go-getter.
I moved a bit closer to her, to the point where she had to be able to feel my breath on her face, knowing that it wouldnít be a problem. Of course she would dig me, I smirked to myself. Because whether they were black, white, Asian or Hispanic, ALL women found me attractive. "I think youíre sexy as hell, and I would love to hook up with you."
She gave a sexy laugh, turning her lips toward mine, but yet not touching them and said, "And I think you are married as hell." She gestured toward the gold ring on my left ring finger.
"And does that matter?"
"From your words and actions, I would guess it doesnít matter to you," she smiled.
"You know Iím a man who says what he feels and be straight up about it, no need for games. And you definitely donít look like a little girl. Have dinner with me tonight."
"And the wifey? She won't miss you? Or...will she be home with the kiddos?" She asked suspiciously.
"Yeah she will be. Look does any of this really matter? You gonna try and tell me you donít find me attractive?"
Justina Graves filled the room with her laughter, smiling at me knowingly. There was something in the look she was giving me though. Something that should of been a warning glance I suppose. But being the self-confident pompous ass I was, I convinced myself it was sexual desire.
"And um..what about this job position? I mean, I am the best for it. Will our little DINNER engagement affect that?"
"Only for the good, Baby," I answered back, reaching to get a notepad to scribble her address and phone number on. "How Ďbout I pick you up around 8?"
"Sounds marvelous to me. Iím at 239 Eastlain Drive, apartment 4," she said, standing suddenly and glancing at her watch. "Well I need to run now, see you later." She presented me with a slow wink, reached over and brushed her lips against mine, and swung her sweet behind out the door.
Right after Justina closed the door, I picked up the phone and dialed home. Stephanie picked up in two rings. I quickly explained to her that something had suddenly came up and that I had a overnight trip I would have to take and would be back around 12 noon the following day. Plenty of time to get my fuck on with Miss Graves, I thought to myself with a chuckle. Stephanie wasnít too thrilled all course, wanted me to at least come home for dinner she said, but I explained to her as I always did that I was doing this for US and for the babies. Which of course softened her up, like it always did. I guess Iíll make it up to her and eat her puddy real good next time I see her. That was one thing A. Turner was good at. Okay, let me rephrase that, one of the many talents A. Turner had, was a way with his tongue, and in more ways than one.
Around 7:45 p.m., I was ringing the doorbell at Eastlain Drive. I had went to the apartment I kept on the side and showered and changed in black tailored slacks, a white Ralph Lauren silk shirt, and had dosed myself with Tribute cologne. A feast for the eyes and nose. Hell if I was a woman, Iíd want to fuck me too. Justina opened the door and offered me a sight out of this world. She was dressed in a red silk teddy, obviously I wasnít gonna have to seduce her after all, her mind was in the same place mind was. YEAH..MY KIND OF WOMAN!
"Come in lover," she whispered.
"Oh Baby, you donít have to ask me but once." I smiled back at her, as I slid inside her door, immediately slipping my hand between her legs and giving her a lil squeeze at the Y. She jerked back and put a hand up, mouthing me a soundless NO..letting me know without doubt who would be in control tonight. Which was just cool with me, I love an aggressive woman.
"You fine as hell Baby, a dream come true. Yeah I wished you up," I smiled slyly.
Justina grabbed me by my tie and lead me to her bedroom, warning me as we went, "Be careful what you wish for, you just may get it. Now strip, NOW!"
I complied right away, feeling my dick harden ever more at the thought of the party we were about to have, my whole body aching and fired up for some serious sexiní. I knew she would appreciate my size, 9-inches cut, of pure black male johnson.
"What you think of that huh?" I asked her with a cocky grin, as she looked intently at my package.
"I think you need to bag that up and sell it or better yet, lay on that bed and let me see if it taste as good as it looks." I laid back against the cool sheets, shivering from the mental picture of her swallowing me to her tonsils. Feeling the wet warm touch of her tongue flicking at my head, I moaned from deep inside, thrusting my hips up at her mouth, feeling her take me all the way in, up and down, swallowing and releasing. I smiled as I felt the pressure building, knowing this was gonna be a quick cum. But also knowing that we had ALL night, and that I could always get it up again and again. Yeah I had it going on like dat. A real mack daddy.
Suddenly I felt something sharp, akin to pleasure and pain, a mixture of the two, but shocking enough that it made me open my eyes and look up at the source of it. A feeling of bone-chilling dread filled me, as I saw the evil, crazed expression on her face. Something told me to look down further, and when I did, what I saw caused a howl of pain and fear and disbelief to be heard throughout the building. There was a shiny silver butcher knife in one of her hands, and in the other, my severed penis covered with blood, and blood shooting and gushing from the spot that use to house it.
"Like I said, be careful what you wish for, you sorry muthafucka!" she whispered, laughing as my screams got louder and louder, till I lost consciousness in the fiery glow of pain...
I learned my lesson well that night. Fortunately my screams alerted the neighbors, who called the police right away and had me rushed to the hospital before I died from the blood lost. I learned later that Justina Graves was an escaped lunatic man-hater who had done this type of thing before. Felt it was her way of giving something back to SISTERHOOD and teaching no good male dogs a lesson in fidelity. They put her back into the loony bin of course, but me? Like I said before, this experience grounded me forever. They were able to reattach my penis, but Iím still getting therapy to get it working properly again, without any definite promise that it ever really will be the same. And my wife, Stephanie? Oh she hung around long enough to be sure I was gonna survive, then she packed up the kids and moved to LA to live with her sister.
So that left me, Alan Turner, the man who had everything, the man every woman wanted -- so I thought -- the man who had always felt he had everything to offer women...with nothing. Nothing that is, but a bunch of Iím sorries, a bunch of wishes and a lesson well learned.