My homegirl, Alex is my closest friend; since we were babies. So whenever she needs me or I need her, we don't hesitate to jump to each other's aid. So when she calls me needing a place to crash for a while, it's a natural reaction to let her stay as long as she needs. This time is a little different though.
I'm still in bed, not sleeping, just relaxing and my phone starts to ring. It's Selena, Alex's sister, and she tells me that Alex's ex-boyfriend is kind of turning into a stalker. I live about forty-five minutes away, so it seemed an obvious choice to stay with me. So Selena and I agree that I'll pick Alex up at the store near my house, just in case the loser is following them.
I get to the store a few minutes after noon and park next to their car as planned. I go in and find them fake shopping. I secretly give Alex my keys, and she and Selena go back to the cars. Selena gets into her car while Alex makes it look like she's joining her, but she really gets into my car. As soon as Selena calls from the freeway, I leisurely make my way back to my car.
We get back to my house fairly quickly. I did stop a couple of times just to mess with Alex but immediately stopped after she punched me in the side of the head while I driving. I pull into the garage and look over at her still ducked down.
"You know we could've died when you punched me in the side of my head."
She waited for the garage door to begin lowering before sitting all the way up.
"Boy, stop bitching. I'm the one being stalked. I'm the one who could've died."
"And you still might; remember that."
"What?" She unbuckles her seatbelt and turns completely towards me. "I didn't hear you just then. What'd you say? What am I supposed to remember?"
"You know damn well you heard me. Unless your weave is too tight again, in which case-"
She jumps over to my side of the car trying to hit in the face, but I'm able to open the door and get before she can get to me. I slam the door in her face and lock her in the car while running to the door in the garage. She unlocks her door and gets out just as I open the door and run inside. I can hear her not far behind me.
"Why you running," she yells while chasing me through the kitchen. "Stop being a bitch!"
I hide around the next corner and wait for her to run pass. She sees me too late as I grab her hands and hold them behind her back until she starts to calm down.
"You are such a dead man," she insists.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah I know."
I let her hands go, and we laugh it off while she continues trying to hit me. I move away from her more until she stumbles into me to stop herself from falling.
"You should've busted your ass."
She pushes herself off of me and hits me in the side of my head.
"One of these days, I'm just...," she shakes off her rage and smiles. "One more joke. That's all you get, one more."
"Do you know how many times I've only had one more?"
"Keep talking. This'll be your last one. Trust me, keep talking and see what happen."
I step closer to her to put myself in range of her hands.
"What happens if I keep talking?" As she raises her hand to swing at me, I stop her. "Hit me and you're cooking your own dinner."
"What are we having?"
"That's what I thought."
After dinner, I showed her to the room she'd be staying in. Since we spend so much time crashing at each other's houses, she already has clothes here. She looks through the drawers to make sure all her stuff is there.
"Don't worry, I always put your panties back after I nut in them."
She slowly turns toward me while clearly trying not to laugh.
"You are such a perv. Seriously, you are the kinkiest guy I have ever known. And that's not taking into consideration the collection of sex toys I'm sure have stashed somewhere in this house."
"First of all, I'm more nasty than kinky. Secondly, my toys aren't hidden. They're in the room down the hall. And lastly, I have a collection of sex toys? The bottom drawer is literally full of dildos and vibrators."
She crosses her arms and gets into a more aggressive pose.
"It is not that many. Granted, I do need some options for getting my pussy bust on, but you're over exaggerating."
"You have four massagers, two of which are in a multi-tip set; three rabbit vibrators, one of which is of the highest tech that includes multiple vibrations, textures, and positions; two g-spot stimulators, both electrical and rechargeable; six different types of bullets; all textured; three pocket rockets, for convenience while traveling; six extra wide realistic flesh textured dildos, all over eight inches; six double-ended extra long dildos, two of which are realistic flesh textured and the rest textured jellies; and six realistic jellie dildos, all over nine inches."
"Like I said, I need options. And that's what I'm talking about. Why are you going through my shit you nasty motherfucker?"
"Because bitch, I'm the one that had to put all your shit in this room. It's not my fault that I have the ability to identify sex toys."
"How is that not your fault? All you had to do was just dump them in the drawer."
"Well, actually I had to clean them and then place them gently in the drawer."
"Why the fuck are cleaning my toys?"
"A common mistake women make is just throwing their toys around and assuming that since they're the only one using them, they don't need to be cleaned on a regular basis. Dust build-up can lead to problems with the functionality of the toy, and can carry bacteria that can cause an infection or rash. And throwing them around will clearly break or damage the toy. Sex toys are more fragile than most think."
I can tell by the look on her face I lost her a long time ago, but I still went over the whole reasoning for cleaning and organizing her sex toys. As I continue talking, she sits down on the bed and looks up at me.