Q should've been my man, and not Downey.
"I need you," I texted him on a Saturday afternoon.
"What you need me fah," he replied.
"To fix something," I told him.
"Where Downey at, LOL," he replied.
Downey was my boyfriend who was best friends with, "Q," short for Quincy. Downey and I were together five years, but finished at a phase where we just didn't care for each other, or were just tired of one another. Downey started stepping out, and I was just looking, when Q came into my view.
"Stick it out Dee. Everything will work out," Q would tell me whenever I vented to him.
He'd become my friend and like a true one he didn't take sides, despite knowing Downey for a longer period of time. One day I advised Q of my pending departure from Downey, and he'd help me move my stuff into another apartment as I officially left Downey alone. I went through it the first few weeks as I poured my heart and soul into Downey, and Q proved to be the shoulder I needed to cry on, giving sound advice, yet still remaining objective to keep his loyalty in both directions.
"I respect you enough not to cross that line with you," Q told me when I reached out randomly.
Maybe it was the rain, or me just being lonely to make me want to reach out to Downey's closest friend. I didn't feel I was being vindictive as much as addressing a need, for I knew Q, like me, was single, and not seeing anyone regularly.
"This has nothing to do with Downey," I told him.
"You're his ex," he messaged.
"And by his ex, meaning he's already working on the next," I replied in jest.
Q needed to know that he was the one I should've been with on that night me and Downey met. We were at a skating party of a mutual friend, and I was feeling good with some other friends, and caught the eye of both of them. Q was shy, Downey wasn't, and he would make the first move that landed me on my back the same night, getting pummeled by that sweet meat of Downey's. We became regulars and would often meet out on the town, and Q was always near, whether it been him dropping Downey off at my place, or me coming to Downey's. When I moved in with Downey, Q was there temporarily as he needed a place to crash, and so Q caught many nights where Downey was wearing me out in the bedroom. Some of those nights had my mind wandering to Q, with me wondering what it'd feel like to get fucked by Downey's best boy. I thought of all this while Q and I went back and forth, with me thinking I had a chance for him to continue to text back and forth. I ended up calling him.
"I need you," I said.
"No bro," he replied. "No way in hell I can fuck my homeboy's ex."
"So you're thinking about it," I asked.
He got quiet.
"Boy, can you handle all this ass anyway," I inquired.
I had Downey measure the circumference of this butt of mine, and the tape resulted in 40 inches. My genes didn't allow for me to have a slender, solid ass, for all of my family is big boned, and I took pride in having a nice rump.
"You probably can't handle this pussy," I baited. "Downey said you like 'em slim."
"Me liking 'em slim don't mean I won't break your back out," he said. "Watch yourself."
"Prove worthy," I told him as we exchanged words.
I had Q right where I wanted him, and that was him being enticed enough to take a drive to my place.
"I'd swallow that little dick up anyway," I added.
Q rose to the challenge to show he was more than a fly-dressing pretty boi. Two hours after we asstalked, Q was walking through my front door and was trying to wrap his hands around this ass of mine. I was on my tip toes trying to kiss this fine, black specimen while he parted my ass cheeks, and made me feel like the bitch I was. I'd bring him inside and fix his favorite drink, and would pour myself a cup as we sat on the couch vibing.
"This won't supposed to happen," I told him.
"But it is," he replied. "And ain't nothing gon' stop it either."
Either of us weren't worried of Downey, and I made sure Q parked his truck in the closed garage. We drank and talked, with Q charming me enough to give me goosebumps and want to jump his bones.