Read Online My Best Friend and My Man by Cydney Rax - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cydney Rax
Ads: Link
my attention so tough I iced the others.
My first fiancée’s name was Murenthia. Yep, a ghetto-ass name for a ghetto-ass woman. That was back when I was going through my ghetto bootie phase when I got caught up by all the trashy
BET Uncut
videos. The message in these videos was to get ass and get lots of it. And Murenthia’s ass was so big she could’ve rented it out as a shopping cart at Sam’s Club. You could’ve balanced two plates and a couple of drinks on that fat ass. I was blinded by her, too. Because what sane, intelligent man would’ve proposed to a woman who didn’t have a real job? She was “in-between” jobs, and for some odd reason, that didn’t bother me. Say what? All Murenthia had to offer was her juicy, fat ass. And that didn’t look to be changing—she was lazy as a dog with a broken leg. She loved to lie around as if she was crippled, refused to cook, and despised housework, because “I can’t stand getting my hands dirty.” But the woman had tons of energy when it came to partying, smoking weed, shopping for skimpy clothes, and getting her three-inch nails done. Guess who paid for all that?
“The man is supposed to pay,” she’d whine. “My mama always told me that.”
“Well, what is the woman supposed to do?”
“She supposed to let her man pay, that’s what. Why you getting smart? I’ll leave your ass.”
“Don’t leave me, Murenthia! You’re too sensitive sometimes.” Then she’d smile and suck a brotha’s dick like it was going out of style. She loved to suck me for hours, and I also loved that she was addicted to taking it from the rear. I’d get her ready and would use half a bottle of baby oil and pour it all over her big fat round ass. The oil made things so slippery you were never sure where your dick would end up. But that’s about the most fun I had with this chick. Being in bed all day. We’d be in the house so long I’d get cabin fever and feel disoriented, bumping into walls and needing to sit down and get myself situated. And that’s when I realized I couldn’t marry a woman like Murenthia. Why I gotta marry her just to get a piece of that fat ass?
I asked for the ring back.
“My mama said never give the ring back, why you trying to play me, Seaphes?”
“You knew you weren’t going to marry me. Just be nice and give back the ring.”
“You must think my mama raised a fool. I’m taking this bitch to the pawn shop. Hell, I need money for nails and hair since you ain’t hooking me up no more. A sista’s gotta do what the man won’t do.”
I never talked to her dumb ass again and feel embarrassed that I actually used to tell her I loved her.
The second woman’s name was Sapphire. I called her Fire. She was about five feet one inch, but walked like she was six feet two and strutting down a runway. She had her own life, made six figures, kept busy with her social circles, earned two degrees, had A-1 credit and no babies in her part of the family tree, and didn’t live with her mama and daddy plus her extended family. Fire cooked for me when she felt like it (which was usually every Sunday afternoon), and she got her nails and hair done every two weeks. No matter how much I fussed at her, she’d disagree with me if I was wrong, she’d ignore me if I was right, and she never emotionally broke down if she didn’t hear from me in three days. Fire could suck dick, too (not that dick-sucking is number one, but she had insane skills). This woman made ear-shattering noises when we fucked, too, and that’s much better than humping on a woman who is silent and stiff for two hours. (I mean, what’s
that
about? Give me something to work with, clap your hands or whatever, to let me know you’re having an okay time!)
When you added up everything she brought to the table, Fire was all that. Made this boy run for the nearest jeweler, plunk down seven grand for a diamond engagement ring, the whole nine yards. When the big day came, I took her out on
My first fiancée’s name was Murenthia. Yep, a ghetto-ass name for a ghetto-ass woman. That was back when I was going through my ghetto bootie phase when I got caught up by all the trashy
BET Uncut
videos. The message in these videos was to get ass and get lots of it. And Murenthia’s ass was so big she could’ve rented it out as a shopping cart at Sam’s Club. You could’ve balanced two plates and a couple of drinks on that fat ass. I was blinded by her, too. Because what sane, intelligent man would’ve proposed to a woman who didn’t have a real job? She was “in-between” jobs, and for some odd reason, that didn’t bother me. Say what? All Murenthia had to offer was her juicy, fat ass. And that didn’t look to be changing—she was lazy as a dog with a broken leg. She loved to lie around as if she was crippled, refused to cook, and despised housework, because “I can’t stand getting my hands dirty.” But the woman had tons of energy when it came to partying, smoking weed, shopping for skimpy clothes, and getting her three-inch nails done. Guess who paid for all that?
“The man is supposed to pay,” she’d whine. “My mama always told me that.”
“Well, what is the woman supposed to do?”
“She supposed to let her man pay, that’s what. Why you getting smart? I’ll leave your ass.”
“Don’t leave me, Murenthia! You’re too sensitive sometimes.” Then she’d smile and suck a brotha’s dick like it was going out of style. She loved to suck me for hours, and I also loved that she was addicted to taking it from the rear. I’d get her ready and would use half a bottle of baby oil and pour it all over her big fat round ass. The oil made things so slippery you were never sure where your dick would end up. But that’s about the most fun I had with this chick. Being in bed all day. We’d be in the house so long I’d get cabin fever and feel disoriented, bumping into walls and needing to sit down and get myself situated. And that’s when I realized I couldn’t marry a woman like Murenthia. Why I gotta marry her just to get a piece of that fat ass?
I asked for the ring back.
“My mama said never give the ring back, why you trying to play me, Seaphes?”
“You knew you weren’t going to marry me. Just be nice and give back the ring.”
“You must think my mama raised a fool. I’m taking this bitch to the pawn shop. Hell, I need money for nails and hair since you ain’t hooking me up no more. A sista’s gotta do what the man won’t do.”
I never talked to her dumb ass again and feel embarrassed that I actually used to tell her I loved her.
The second woman’s name was Sapphire. I called her Fire. She was about five feet one inch, but walked like she was six feet two and strutting down a runway. She had her own life, made six figures, kept busy with her social circles, earned two degrees, had A-1 credit and no babies in her part of the family tree, and didn’t live with her mama and daddy plus her extended family. Fire cooked for me when she felt like it (which was usually every Sunday afternoon), and she got her nails and hair done every two weeks. No matter how much I fussed at her, she’d disagree with me if I was wrong, she’d ignore me if I was right, and she never emotionally broke down if she didn’t hear from me in three days. Fire could suck dick, too (not that dick-sucking is number one, but she had insane skills). This woman made ear-shattering noises when we fucked, too, and that’s much better than humping on a woman who is silent and stiff for two hours. (I mean, what’s
that
about? Give me something to work with, clap your hands or whatever, to let me know you’re having an okay time!)
When you added up everything she brought to the table, Fire was all that. Made this boy run for the nearest jeweler, plunk down seven grand for a diamond engagement ring, the whole nine yards. When the big day came, I took her out on
Similar Books
