Back For More Already

This is a work of fiction. It is for entertainment purposes only, and should not be taken seriously by anyone.

Note to reader: This is a second chapter to the story Some Like it Rough. To know how we got here, take a look. Otherwise, enjoy yourself.

It was night time, and the air was cool.

Sherica was looking out her living room window towards Mac Fulton's house where all the windows were dark, except a glow in the living room. The driveway was empty. He wasn't home yet.

Sherica crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lip.

She was dressed for bed. She was wearing an old faded white t-shirt and gym shorts from high school.

But despite a long day of class and a marathon workout in the gym, she was wide awake.

She just couldn't understand what was happening to her.

A week ago, she had lost her temper, and confronted her neighbor because she thought he was taking down the BLM sign she had put in her yard.

Her boyfriend had just texted her he had lost his part time job, and she would need to cover the rent until he could find a new one.

Then, she saw the sign was gone, and she went off on Mac.

She had expected some kind of argument. Craved one, actually. She needed to lash out at someone, and Mac fit the bill.

But then he dragged her into his house, and fucked her brains out on his kitchen table.

She told him to stop at first, but then, well...

Sherica heard the sound of the playstation starting up and turned to see her boyfriend sitting down on the couch.

He gets fired from his job, and instead of getting another, or better yet, working on his degree, he's playing a fucking video game like a little boy, she thought angrily.

Stop it.

What is wrong with me?

Why am I more angry with him, then I am with Mac?

Mac held you down, he fingered you and then fucked you senseless. If there's a monster in this story, you shouldn't have to look far.

I begged him to stop.

And then, you beg him to keep going, she thought with a blush.

All week Sherica felt at war with herself. She was a practical woman. She didn't act crazy.

So why was she feeling this way?

It's not as if he hurt me, she reasoned. Sure, I was sore for days after, but that's what happens when you only date one guy and he's got a small dick.

You need to stop it, the rational side of her argued. He is a monster. He made you have sex with him. You need to report him to the police and have him arrested.

Arrest him? Who is going to believe me? The police?

Besides, what was she going to tell them? Yes, I went to his house, and knocked on his door. What was I wearing? Oh, just my favorite sexy crop top and booty shorts, why do you ask? Why yes, he made me orgasm. He made me cum so many times I lost count. Easily the best fucking of my life. 10/10. Would DEFINITELY recommend.

Was any cop gonna believe her?

Would any jury?

Would anyone?

Sherica imagined it all coming out. The sordid details, what she had been wearing, being forced to relive what had happened. It was worse than humiliating. It was cruel.

And there was the irrational part of her. Usually, a minor irritation in her ordered, highly structured life. Usually, she pictured this part of her mind as a wild, drunk bitch making loud noises in the back of the college bar in her mind. That side of her made the catty remarks that passed through Sherica's mind, while she smiled, nodded, and bit her tongue.

Since Mac, however, that little voice had gotten a hell of a lot louder. And she was driving her crazy.

"Call the cops?" Miss. Irrational asked, slurring her speech. "Call the president! Because that man deserves a medal, baby girl. Mac Fulton showed you what you've been missing your whole life and didn't know it."

"The man is a criminal," Ms. Rational replied. "He took away your agency. He took away your ability to choose."

Ms. Rational was her bespectacled common sense, talking her through her life. She's the sort of woman who wore only sweaters, owned a cat, and didn't go to libraries because she found them too stimulating.

In the college bar of her mind, Miss. Irrational downed a cocktail and ordered another.

"He took all that away, sure. Butttttt Did he beat you? Did he film it and put it online? Did he threaten you? What he did was he shut this boring ass bitch up long enough for you to actually enjoy yourself for once."

Ms. Rational, who always drank her club soda through a straw, replied, "Any loss of control opens you up to weakness. Then comes pain. Followed by abandonment. And then you will be alone. No family, no community, no Treshaun. What if you're pregnant? What then? Is anyone going to stand by you when they find out you're carrying a white man's child? Not your family. Your friends in the movement won't help. And as soon as Tre sees that the child is not his, he will leave you. And there you are, exactly what the world always expected you to be."

Miss. Irrational took this opportunity to fall off her stool at the bar laughing.

"You're already weak," she exclaimed, climbing back to her feet. "You're so wound up being what everyone else wants you to be that you ain't hardly living."

"You're not seriously thinking of going back to him?"

"He left that door open. Last time was.. complicated and scary. But if you go back now it's your choice. Your decision. Besides, it ain't like you've been getting much action around here."

Sherica cast another glare at her boyfriend, but he was pounding away at the controller, off in his own little world.

"Treshaun is stable."

"Treshaun is fucking boring. He is boring, broke, and he ain't got no future. You've both seen it. That man's head has been in the clouds so long he ain't no use to anyone. For anything. Let me prove it. Did you tell Tre about what happened between you and Mac?"

"Don't be silly," Ms. Rational scoffed. "It would've been foolish to tell Tre. He wouldn't have been able to help us."

Mac would have killed him. Sherica thought darkly.

"Exactly," Miss. Irrational shouted, clapping her hands together as she spoke. "You didn't tell the one man who should always protect you, because he was fucking useless."

For the first time, Ms. Rational didn't have a reply ready.

Miss. Irrational came over to their end of the bar, and sat down, leaning forward.

"I'm saying, Mac gave you a taste of what other girls always be talking about. Ain't you ever wondered why you never have stories like that? No wild adventures? No reckless mistakes? No secrets we'll take to the grave?"

She paused and gave them a mischievous grin. "It was good, wasn't it?"

It wasn't good, it was great. Sherica thought.

"It was exceptional," Ms. Rational admitted. "But what if she gets pregnant?"

"Then she'll deal with it. The way she always had, by making choices. It's one decision she has to make for herself. Though girl, you definitely need to get on the pill, or IUD or something because that man ain't the sort that wears rubbers."

Sherica felt it there. The dull ache between her legs. It had been there since she walked out of Mac's kitchen.

Sherica closed her eyes, gently rocking back and forth on her heels at the window.

She could feel him taking her in his arms and kissing her.

That kiss was better than the sex she had with her boyfriend. Never before had she felt so connected with a man.

She sighed quietly, as she moved back and forth. She could feel their rhythm in that hot, stifling kitchen. She could feel him inside her, fucking her, taking her. Cumming inside her.

She opened her eyes. She needed to stop.

This was really getting out of hand. She could see her nipples through her shirt in the reflection in the window.

Sherica had never cheated on Treshaun before. She'd thought about it. And she had plenty of opportunities.

Guy friends from high school and college, classmates, even Tre's own friends took their shot. Sometimes when they would go out to a club with friends, she'd have to pry the hands of other guys off her tits or her ass or her inner thighs and yell in their ear I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!

She had never acted on it though. Never.

Last time it wasn't her choice. She had an excuse. But could she really go through with this? With Mac of all people? An older white guy?

She had never found white men attractive. It had been made clear to her from a young age that she wasn't supposed to find white men attractive. Those were the colonizers. They were interested in one thing when it came to black girls.

Colonizing.

But she had thought about plenty of white celebrities over the years when she touched herself. Somehow they seemed safe, far away, non-threatening.

Mac was next door.

Could she really willingly go next door and cheat on her boyfriend? After what he did?

"You could go over and yell at him again," Miss. Irrational piped up. "That might work."

"Jesus Christ I need to get my shit together," Sherica muttered.

He wasn't home now. His car was gone. Is he thinking about me right now?

"Only as to why you haven't called the cops," Ms. Rational snapped.

Sherica swallowed her anxiety and tried to ignore the signals her body was sending her.

I'm going to confront him, Sherica decided.

"Excellent decision." Miss. Irrational agreed.

"What are you going to do?" Ms. Rational demanded.

I have no fucking idea.

Mac then had the decency to come home. What a guy.

The lights of his truck lit up the night as he pulled into his driveway.

Sherica felt her mouth go dry. It was like an electric current ran through her body.

There he is. There he fucking is. He walking fast, why? Is he afraid I'll see him?

He was headed for the kitchen door on his back porch.

Sherica took a deep breath and put on her flip flops.

"I'm going out for a walk," she said in a loud voice.

She didn't hear a reply as the door closed behind her.

Mac was almost at the door when she called to him.

"Hey."

He stopped and turned, keys in hand and a brown bag of groceries in the other.

He was rugged. Rough, but handsome. A man who had worked outside his whole life. There was a little gray in his hair, but Sherica found she liked that. He seemed larger than he was. And seeing him up close again gave her butterflies.

"Hey yourself," twirling the keys around on his finger, "Back for more already?"

Sherica shot a look behind her. No Treshaun. Nowhere to be seen. She had to do this herself.

"Can I come inside?" she asked, before adding in spite of herself "Sir?"

She cringed internally immediately.

Sir? Sir? Sherica you dumbass, he's going to think you're there to fuck him!

He nodded, "Of course."

She followed him to his door. The night air was cool against her skin. She cast one last glance for her boyfriend. She could still see him through the window playing his stupid video game.

We're alone again, she thought.

She was expecting a wave of heat, but instead was met by a blast of cold air.

"Jesus, it's freezing in here!"

He chuckled. "Sorry, I got the A/C fixed and set to full blast. They managed to replace a broken part, but next time I'm probably going to have to replace the whole thing."

Mac's dog came in and licked a happy hello.

"You like dogs?"

She nodded. But she wasn't looking at the dog. She was looking at old, rickety kitchen table Mac had fucked her on. She could still hear the creaking sound in her head as he drove his cock into her over and over again.

She was back. What the fuck was she doing here?

The dull ache between her legs answered. It had been building since she set eyes on the man. It was deep inside her, in a place that only he had touched.

Set boundaries, Sherica. You need to take charge.

"I'm not going to fuck you," she said.

Good job. Nailed it.

He looked up from his dog, but said nothing.

"I'm not!" She insisted.

"And that's okay," he chuckled. "Want a beer?"

Sherica felt a little of balance at the response. She had expected something. She was afraid of more anger and where that might lead. Kindness was not in the cards.

She felt jittery, unsettled.

Probably the nerves and stress, she thought.

So she said yes to a beer.

He offered her a Double IPA or a Corona Premier (lawnmower beers, he called them). Sherica didn't really drink beer. She likes seltzer drinks. But when she saw him reach for the IPA, she didn't want him to think she couldn't handle herself, so she grabbed one too.

She was prepared to hate it, but it tasted better than most of the IPAs she'd had.

Suddenly there were tropical fruit flavors in her mouth. The high alcohol content plus the fact she hadn't eaten much all day, plus the fact that she worked out, meant that she began to relax a little faster than she intended.

He watched her drink it, a little surprised.

"You need to be careful. There's a lot of alcohol in those."

"I can handle myself, thanks," she answered.

That's right Sherica, assert yourself.

She crushed the beer, all sixteen ounces, and set the can on that old rickety table.

"Can we sit down somewhere?"

He led her to the living room. A tv screensaver cast a glow in the dark room, but they could see each other just fine.

"I'll turn the light on."

"No. I have something to say."

He sighed and sat on his sofa, setting the beer on an end table. She stood facing him.

The alcohol was already at work. She felt good. Confident. Ignore the ache between her legs that was banging like a drum., She had something to say.

What did she want to say?

Shit. She couldn't remember what she wanted to say.

I'll have to wing it.

She felt good. Great. Like a boss. A Girl Boss. Or A bad bitch. She felt like A bad bitch girl boss.

"What happened between us was inappropriate. I said some things I shouldn't have said. But that's no excuse for what you did to me."

She waited. He stared at her, his eyes were really, really blue. Like a wolf on those nature shows on Animal Planet. His shirt sleeves were all rolled up. His arms are huge.

"And?"

And? She thought, feeling the flush of temper. That's all he has to say to me? And? You picked the wrong woman to mess with. I'm not scared of you.

"And you can't do that! You can't do that to women! What is wrong with you? What you did was wrong."

She paused before adding, "I ought to report you to the police."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"If that is how you feel, then you should."

It stopped her in her tracks. She couldn't believe her ears.

"What? Do you want to go to jail?"

He shook his head.

"Not really."

What's he game? Does he really think I won't do it?

"I'm serious."

"I believe you. You're right. I didn't ask permission. If you feel I harmed you in any way, you should report me to the police. I won't dispute it. I'll confess. There won't be any news reports, no slut shaming. I'll go away quietly."

She couldn't believe him. He couldn't actually be serious. He's calling her bluff.

"You're trying to trick me."

He looked at the floor, and then back at her. But he seemed to be looking through her. He looked tired, then there was a flash of annoyance.

He pulled out his cell and dialed 911. He held it out to her.

The message was clear. All she needed to do was hit the button and he was finished. Done. Finito. Adios.

You think I won't? She thought.

She reached out. This was it. She had been wronged, and he was going to pay.

All that was left was the throbbing ache between her thighs.

She hesitated.

Her hand was there. Ready. Ready to press the button. But she couldn't do it.

And with each passing moment, she saw a smile beginning to form on his face.

Her hands fell to her sides. She looked at the floor. She couldn't look him in the eye.

At that moment, she never felt so powerless. No man had ever made her feel like that. She hated him and wanted him at the same time.

It was insane. She knew it was insane. Part of her wanted to burst into tears.

But she got control of herself. She was shaking, but she was in control.

Then she felt his big strong hand caressed her right breast. He squeezed it gently through the thin white material and tugged gently at her nipple.

Sherica felt the warmth of his hand. It spread from her chest to her tummy and then down between her legs.

"Mmmmm....." she whimpered.

He grabbed her by the hair. Sherica gasped as he kissed her and his tongue slipped into her mouth. She could feel his hand all over her ass.

In a low voice that sent a tingling sensation up her spine, he whispered, "You come in here without a bra on, and you don't think I know what you want?"

She felt his arms and his back muscles. He smelled like vanilla and wood smoke.

She blushed at the thought.

"This wasn't for you," she gasped as their lips smacked together. "It was for my boyfriend. Instead he's playing that stupid game."

"Hmm. His loss."

Her shirt was coming off and she wasn't going to fight it. She felt the cool chill on her breasts.

She wanted this. Needed it as much as needed anything. Her hand reached down and felt it.

"Oh my god," she whispered. It felt even bigger than she remembered.

"Did you miss my cock, girl?"

"Yes. Mmm. I can't stop thinking about it."

The thought passed through her head.

Does that make me a bad person? What kind of black woman, a feminist nonetheless, wants to get fuck hard and raw by a dirty white man?

She felt his fingers traveling down to her hips, peeling away the old shorts. All she had on now was a light purple thong that just barely covered her vagina.

"Tell me the truth," he asked. "He doesn't know you're here, does he?"

She shook her head. "No," she answered.

"No?" He touched her chin. She looked up at him, and shook her head.

"I shouldn't like what you do to me.. Its... its not right."

He shook his head.

"Forget about that. Do you want it?"

This was it. Her last chance to stop before this gets out of hand.

"Sherica?"

A moment passed.

Another.

"Yes. I want it."

"Do you want me to be gentle, or rough?"

Sherica shuddered. She was shaking, trembling with anticipation.

She looked him in the eye, and whispered, "Rough."

She expected him to grab her and force her into position. But that didn't happen. Instead, Mac began to kiss her, teasing her lips with his tongue. It was nice. Romantic even. Not at all what she was expecting.

She didn't know whether to be nervous or disappointed.

But she didn't have to wait long.

He grabbed her ass with one hand, and squeezed. With his other arm, he pulled her into an embrace, and began kissing her throat.

Sherica could feel herself respond. Her neck was one of her spots. Even Treshaun knew that. Immediately she began to sigh as his lips tickled her throat. When she started to moan, he began to concentrate there, kissing and sucking.

Her breathing was getting heavy and her thong was getting damp.

How did this man know her body so well? They had only just begun, and he had her raring to go already.

She felt eager, excited.

"Sir?" She cooed. "Will you fuck me?"

She looked towards the stairs, to his bedroom, to where she knew she could expect even more pleasure. She felt that absence between her legs. She needed it.

"Take me upstairs and fuck me."

"No. Not upstairs," he said. He wrapped his arms around her, and turned her so her back was to him.

Her stomach nearly dropped through the floor.

They were standing in front of the largest window in Mac's house! You could see clear across to their living room, where Treshaun was facing them, playing his game.

All he needed to do was glance out the window, and he would see his naked girlfriend getting manhandled by their white neighbor.

"Shit!" She gasped, trying to cover herself. "Did he see us?"