The Honeymoon Pt 04 05

(The following story is Part 4 & 5 of the third segment of a trilogy beginning with The Wedding and The Engagement. All of the fictional characters here were created and developed in earlier segments of the trilogy. Please read those segments for context and premise before continuing)

The Honeymoon, Part 04

I'm the infamous Lisa Winchell. A lot has been said and written here about me. I want to set a few things straight.

Yes, Cynthia Preston is my best friend. Yes, I caught my boyfriend cheating on me at Cynthia's wedding. Yes, I broke up with him. Yes, I have Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder and a varied sexual history. Yes, my sister Nikki is white.

A lot of the rest of what's been written about me is open to interpretation.

Many women don't know this, but if you go to suck your boyfriend's cock and it tastes like soap, he's been cheating on you. Niggaz don't wash their dicks in the middle of the day. Unless you see him coming out of the shower with a bar of Lifebuoy in his hands, a soapy dick is one of the main indicators of a cheater, right up there with "I've got to work late" and "Let me open my own credit card bill" and "No, you can't look at my phone".

I went to suck Artie's dick after Cynthia's reception and he'd washed it. The nyugga had been standing up in her wedding all afternoon. He'd been at her reception, IN MY PRESENCE, all evening--EXCEPT for the half hour he disappeared, claiming he had to take a dump.

Niggaz only half wipe their asses anyway--you can tell from the streaks in their drawers. They CERTAINLY don't scrub their dicks after taking a crap. It just isn't done. So, if you hear that lie, thank the infamous Lisa Winchell for pulling your coat. A washed dick is the aftermath of a pussy-encrusted dick. Trust me.

And the thing is, I LOVED the nigga!! I'd only known him three days and I was ready to throw off all my other lovers and all my long time sexual habits just to be his woman!!

Don't laugh.

I had a BUNCH of lovers in a BUNCH of different cities. It was me that taught young Cynthia Preston her lovecraft. Before she met me, the heffah was a virgin, twiddling at her cunt with toys.

What can I say? I enjoy sex. More, I almost feel compelled to have sex. I have the sex drive of a man. So does Nikki. So does Cynthia. We met at a PGAD therapist's office in Nashville.

If you've read Cynthia's honeymoon narrative and noted her encounter with Trevor, you might think her a ho. She fucked a dude not her husband on her honeymoon. She's a slut, right? I put it to you that she could not have done otherwise. She struggled for days before she fell. If Trevor hadn't showed her his dick, she would have been fine. Until, of course, someone else showed her his dick. And then she'd struggle.

Guys are like that. They're fine until they get a whiff of pussy. And then? It doesn't matter whose pussy it is. The only mitigating factor is "What if I get caught?" That's it. That's ALL it is. I don't care if it's your dad, your granddad, your son, or your pastor. The equation is always the same.

OK, so I have the same problem. I like to fuck. I sniff a dick, I have to suck it. I feel no need to be dishonest about it. I think that more women would suck dicks if society didn't brand them as hos. That's why I tend to keep my lovers outside the city where I live. My reputation doesn't suffer that way. According to my friends and co-workers in Seattle, I'm pristine. When I need to fuck, I travel. As you may guess, I travel a lot.

When I heard that Cynthia was dating Kevon, I pleaded with her to break it off. Dating in the city where you live is the death knell of a woman's reputation.

First off, Cynthia, Nikki and I are all freaks. We'll "go down on you in a theater" (as Alannis Morrisette, another known freak, so quaintly noted). If Cynthia hadn't married Kevon, her sexual peccadilloes would have soon become public knowledge. Kevon would blab. All men do. TRUST me.

Since she decided to marry him, Kevon kept Cynthia's more prurient sexual habits to himself. Why should he blab? She's a FREAK!! That only benefits HIM!! Blabbing would open her up to the attentions of other men. LOTS of other men. Men like freaks...as long as nobody else knows she's a freak.

I'd been straight up with Artie.

"Baby, I have PGAD. I like to fuck."

He seemed to take it well. He even joked about it.

"You say that like it's a BAD thing!!" he said.

I wasn't joking. Pussy, like gold, is only valuable in its scarcity. If a man could fuck the same chick six times a day for a week, he'd soon tire of her. I wasn't just being straight up with Artie, I was

warning

him. "I like to fuck" means "all day,

every

day". I told Artie that I didn't want him masturbating. I told him that I wanted each and

every

erection he conjured to finish its lifecycle in my pussy, my ass or my mouth. He thought I was kidding. I was not.

I also advised him that my sister Nikki wouldn't mind the occasional sample. Nikki is fine as hell. She's a redhead with green eyes, voluptuous tits, a petite waist and a black woman's ass. Who's not going to want to fuck her? I was GIVING my boyfriend a pass to fuck my sister on my watch!! I didn't tell him this, but I figured he'd soon tire of my pussy. I REALLY like to fuck. So I was offering him a reasonable alternative, when the sticky ridges of my pink vagina no longer sufficed. What guy would turn that down?

Not only that, but I insinuated that if Nikki wouldn't do, Cynthia might be willing to harbor his penis from time to time. How did I know this? Cynthia told me so!!

Artie said he would never sleep with Kevon's girlfriend. He said it was "immoral".

I laughed. Immoral? Seriously? I'd never met any man who'd used the term. After the first whiff of pussy, a man's only remaining consideration is whether or not punishment ensues. As his girlfriend, I was giving Artie a hall pass to fuck!! I was agreeing to be faithful as long as he stayed within the bounds of my caveats, which I didn't think too onerous.

What were my caveats? Number one, vaginal sex only. No head, no kissing, no sexting, no anal sex. Why these? PGAD is a vaginal disorder, something Nikki, Cynthia and I all suffer from. Artie fucking my gurlz would actually BENEFIT them, you know? In my estimate, he was pleasuring them; I didn't want them pleasuring him. I figured that if Artie needed his dick sucked, I could do it myself. Who tires of head? Number two, I asked that he not bust his nuts in their pussies. This was kind of unrealistic, but I did ask for that consideration. Again, if I was there (and I planned to be), he could bust his nuts in my pussy, not theirs. It kinda amounted to more a suggestion than a caveat because most guys can't control when they cum.

On the night before Cynthia's wedding, Artie fucked Nikki. I asked him about it, he admitted it, that was the end of it. He fucked her again the next day. I watched!!

At the reception he came up with this wild excuse as to why his dick smelled of soap. I knew he was lying. What's more immoral than lying? That was the end of us. He could not have fucked Nikki or Cynthia in that short period. They were with me the whole time he was away.

OK, so the next day Kevon and Cynthia flew off to Aruba. While they were gone, I find out that Artie's clandestine sex partner had been Teralynn House!! She'd been one of Cynthia's bridesmaids!! She was an erstwhile friend of mine!!

Well, not really a friend. I met her the same day I met Artie. They'd known each other for years. They'd attended college together. It took her all that time to decide that she wanted to fuck him. The two of them sneaked away from the wedding reception and played hide the sausage.

I was crushed, first by Artie's betrayal, then by Terry's. What kind of a woman does that? We'd laughed together. We'd drank together. I had pictures of her tits in my phone, courtesy of Cynthia's pre-nuptial wedding dress party. How was I to know that ten hours later she'd be fucking my man?

Nikki and I flew back to Seattle. I'd broken a lot of hearts. And now my heart was broken.

See, a man can't deal with a woman who has a man's sex drive. Oh, they like the idea of fucking all day. They just don't like the idea of ME fucking all day when they aren't around. A good number of the men I fucked fell in love with me. Did that stop me from fucking other men? Does it stop a man from fucking other women?

So when my lovers found out I was not being monogamous (and I always told them), they immediately turned into whiny little bitches. I never understood why.

"I'm doing what YOU'RE doing, nigga!! I'm just being honest about it!!"

I didn't live in the same town as any of my lovers, so who was the wiser? My reputation in Seattle remained unsullied. Did I tell anyone my real hometown? No. I did not. Even my phone's area code was registered in Central Florida.

Teralynn House was definitely NOT on the list of acceptable fuck buddies. I dunno how to describe it. Artie was the first man I wanted to be pseudo-monogamous with. And he was the pseudo!! I gave him free reign with three women, while I only wanted him!!

WHAT! THE!! FUCK!!!

I broke up with him. I hadn't wanted to. Every one of my heartstrings told me to forgive him. I'd never been faithful to a lover in my life. My heart told me that this heartbreak was my own doing. It was payback for all the hearts I'd broken. Maybe the thing with Teralynn had been sudden, you know? Maybe he was walking around, minding his own business, and he tripped and fell into her pussy?

I knew that hadn't happened. When I made love to any man it was by design. It never happened by accident. I had to assume the same for Teralynn.

Gradually I began to hate her.

Nikki and I arrived home at our downtown condo late on the Sunday evening after Cynthia's wedding. I'd been somber the entire trip. Nikki tried to cheer me up. She told me that Artie was a lousy lay. She said she'd had so much better. I knew she was lying. Artie had fucked ME, remember? I'd never seen such orgasmic fireworks. I appreciated her concern, though.

If you've never had your heart broken, I don't advise it. It's a miserable experience. I had to be back to work on Monday. I called in sick, sat in my living room without the TV or the stereo, and just stared off into space. I kept picking up my phone, hoping to find a text or a call from Artie. Too, I replayed the sexts he'd sent earlier.

"That was MY man!! And SHE took him!!"

Why wouldn't he call? If he'd just call, I'm sure I could find a reason to forgive him!!

"I wonder if he's with HER right now?"

This thought added fuel to my simmering rage.

"He should be back in Atlanta by now. She should be back in Dallas."

I can't tell you the number of times I picked up my phone and dialed nine of his ten digits before hanging up.

"I'm not going to call him."

Finally, I called Vincent, one of my extra-municipal lovers. He lived in Nashville. He'd been in love with me once, but our relationship gradually metastasized into friendship. When I visited Nashville we would make love urgently for a day or so before taking time to see after each other's lives. We'd go out to dinner and talk. He'd come to terms with the stipulations of our relationship.

Me:

"Vincent, I need to talk."

Vincent:

"What's up?"

Me:

"You remember when I told you about Javon? How did that make you feel?"

Vincent:

"Whoa. That was awhile ago. Why are you bringing that up now?"

Me: "I dunno. I met this guy in Pittsburgh. I really liked him. He dissed me."

Vincent:

"Oh."

Me:

"So?"

Vincent:

"Ummmm, I was hurt, I guess. You dissed me."

Me:

"I know. I'm so sorry. At the time I just thought I was being honest. Now I think I know how you felt."

Vincent:

"Well, we're past that now."

Me:

"Are you still seeing Selina?"

Vincent:

"On and off, yes."

Me:

"Why 'on and off'?"

Vincent:

"It's difficult for me to commit to her."

Me:

"Why?"

Vincent:

"I love someone else. She knows it."

Me:

"Who?"

Vincent:

"Oh c'mon, Lisa. You know its you."

Me:

"Still?"

Vincent:

"Yes, still."

Me:

"I thought you'd gotten past that."

Vincent:

"I thought I had. But every time you come to town, we make love, we have fun. Selina knows it. I don't lie to her."

Me:

"I...I like making love to you."

Vincent:

"I'm not your man, Lisa. Can you imagine how that makes Selina feel?"

Me:

"I didn't before. But I think I do now."

Vincent:

"Are you in town?"

Me:

"No. Would you like me to be?"

Vincent (sighing):

"I don't think so. Not this time. You leave too often."

For the first time, I could sense his pain. I'd hurt him. I'd believed that he was in charge of his own feelings, inasmuch as I was in charge of mine. Having fallen in love with Artie, I realized that I was not in charge of my own feelings. Someone else controlled my heartstrings.

Me:

"I guess Selina thinks you cheated on her?"

Vincent:

"D'ya think?"

Me:

"Did you tell her we're just friends?"

Vincent:

"Would you accept that explanation from whomever it is you're jonesing over?"

Me:

"No. I don't think I would."

Vincent:

"Lisa, friendship is one thing. Having sex changes that dynamic forever. What's this guy's name anyway?"

Me:

"Artie."

Vincent:

"You fucked him?"

Me:

"Yes."

Vincent:

"He may be able to become your friend. You, however, will always feel the pain of loss. Always."

Me:

"Is that how you feel?"

Vincent:

"Yes. That's how I feel. Every time you leave town."

Me:

"I'm sorry Vincent. I am."

Vincent:

"I know."

I hung up the phone. Vincent had paused after asking if I'd fucked Artie. I could tell he was envisioning me with another man. He'd sighed imperceptibly. I was just now beginning to understand how sex implies ownership. I'd always looked at it as a simple consensual transaction between genitalia. I needed to feel full down there, several times a day if possible. My lovers just needed to get wet. Up until Artie, for me it was just sex. Now....

I realized that it had been several days since I'd last had intercourse. Despite my melancholy, my vagina was beginning to twitch. I had a well-used dildo in my room with a large vaginal penis connected to a less large anal penis. It was battery powered on both accounts. I used it for double penetration. The dildo's name was Chuck. I thought of Chuck now. But I did not have the heart to employ Chuck that day.

My pussy still belonged to Arthur.

The following week Cynthia started sending me images of this humongous cock from Aruba. It was the biggest cock I'd ever seen. I thought it was fake. It was not. Cynthia said the cock belonged to some guy named Trevor. Apparently Trevor worked at the hotel where she and Kevon were honeymooning.

"Oh, no," I thought. "She's creeping already."

Nikki called Cynthia immediately. Since Cynthia was married, she reasoned, Trevor had to become community property.

Over the next few days the details of Cynthia's interactions with Trevor became evident. She'd come across him while taking a walk along the beach late one night. She'd become intrigued with his cock. She'd blown him. She'd fucked him. Their relationship was transactional.

"Where in the FUCK is your husband while all this is going on?" I demanded.

"He's asleep," she countered.

I didn't want to get too far into it. I was still grieving. Nicole, however, wanted to know every detail.

"How thick is he? How does it taste? Can Mrs. Hotbox take the whole thing?"

Nikki spoke to the dude on the phone. He seemed friendly enough. She made reservations for the two of us to visit him in Aruba two weeks on. She didn't even ask me if I wanted to go. I left her to it.

Later that night I happened to be walking by our bedroom door. Nikki was lying in the middle of our bed, naked. She had Chuck up between her legs; Chuck's business ends were buried deeply into both her southern ports. Chuck had these, like, handles on either side of his base, handles in the shape and consistency of a man's scrotum. Nikki gripped Chuck's balls tremulously with both hands. Her eyes were closed. I could see that she hadn't shaved in a week or so. Her pussy was covered in crimson peach fuzz. I could also hear the low hum of Chuck's D-batteries buzzing inside her. She was mumbling Trevor's name, along with any number of obscenities.

Now, it's not like she and I hadn't seen each other masturbating. We had. Chuck was community property.

I just...I just thought...I...I didn't wanna go to Aruba. I didn't wanna meet Trevor. I didn't want to fuck him. I was in the midst of a cataclysmic metamorphosis. I didn't know where I was headed, but fucking strangers wasn't going to be a part of the equation.

Don't get me wrong. I wasn't becoming a Mormon or anything like that. I'd fucked Chuck a couple of times the prior weekend. I couldn't help it. Chuck knows what he is doing. He's quick and efficient. And he doesn't ask me to blow him afterward.

I'd been wondering how to tell Cynthia about the Teralynn situation. Of course, she'd tell Kevon. And then there'd be an issue between him and his 'boyz'. How does a woman gain entry into a 'boyz' club, anyway? I mean, if it had been me or Nikki, we would have had to fuck our way in. Is that what Teralynn did? I suspected that she had. Maybe this thingy with Artie was a rehash of an earlier encounter and I was roadkill in its aftermath? It felt that way.

I went and jumped into bed with Nikki. When her tremors finally dissipated, I extricated Chuck from her vagina and inserted him into mine.

The Honeymoon, Part 05

My name is Kevon Simpson. And I don't know how I got dragged into this shit. There's nothing worse in this world than getting dragged into bitch shit.

So here's the deal. I get back from the best honeymoon in the history of honeymoons. My wife and I had the best time!! We'd both earned our kite surfing wings. We met a whole new clutch of friends who, like us, love to travel. We had plans to meet up with them at Mardi Gras. We also had plans to return to Aruba over the winter and go kite surfing, plus we were going to get our scuba certifications. Better still, Cynthia and I had never been so close or happy. She fucked me into a coma each and every night of our holiday. More often than not I woke up with my dick in her mouth. If this is how marriage goes, I don't know why I hadn't gotten married before. I was overdosed, drunk on hot, sweaty hole.

This marriage definitely got off on the right foot.

So we get back to Pittsburgh only to find that two of my closest friends are now an item! Unbeknownst to me, Artie Jay and Teralynn House hooked up at my wedding. As the unelected leader of The Fellas, this was a situation requiring regulation. The two female members of The Fellas were inviolate. It was an unspoken rule: Jennie and Terry are not to be fucked. PERIOD.

So I get on the phone to my friend Artie, only to find that this nigga is not at home in Atlanta. This nigga is IN DALLAS WITH TERRY!!! I hung up. Obviously, he wasn't the person I should be talking to.