The Rebound

I was awakened midday by loud incessant knocking finding an empty bottle of Heineken still in my grasp. I scratched my head planting the bottle on the bedside table, feeling it cranially as the rapping continued. Part of me wondered if I shouldn't get my pistol out of the closet. I was worried it might be my wife's boyfriend looking for a confrontation and there was no way I was gonna contribute to the brutish ego of a thug. Besides, I didn't feel like calling up my lawyer after the fact, so I resolved to gauge the situation as it unfurled. Marline had only been out of the house for a little under thirty hours after being discovered and outed having an affair with a gang banger. I pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms, half limping to the door.

"Ah shit." My wife's current BFF and running buddy Nichelle, was standing outside my door.

Nichelle Williams was this sister that my wife had become fast friends with six months ago when she took a new job at this shady call center. She was a dark skinned woman supposedly half Nigerian, but I didn't see any evidence of that heritage because she seemed rough hewn and tragically stereotypical. A loud mouthed, vulgarity spewing stereotype in the worst way with a few kids that she liked to leave with my wife on occasion to hook up with various "Pookie and Ray Ray" types.

Nichelle besides being an unrepentant, abrasive loud mouth was decidedly slim thick. I suppose this was her allure to the thuggish guys she occasionally hooked up with and I can't lie; there were times when I'd noticed her apple bottom, too. You just couldn't get past her stank attitude and excessive use of blue language. The rapping at my door got more excessive, worrying me that my neighbors would get a public minstrel show when I decided to open the door. Luckily, the screen door was still locked.

"Uhm, yeah good morning." I greeted her with a yawn at the end of the sentence.

"GHUUUDDD MOOO-NIN, GHUUD MOEEEE-NIN!!" It sounded like she was doing a bad imitation of my voice. Nichelle was getting off to an early start this fine Saturday morning.

"Ma'am, do you need medical attention; I think you're having a stroke with that slurred speech."

"EX-CUSE ME?!!"

"Is your hearing going too, Nichelle? I can call up the paramedics if you're having a thing?" I trolled her with an earnest tone.

"HA-HA-HA!!" She tried the screen door finding it locked.

"I accept Jesus Christ as my lord and personal savior, Nichelle." She stopped looking at me almost cross eyed through the screen door.

"HUH?!"

"You're a Jehovah Witness right; that's why you're here at my door this morning? I was just reiterating that I don't need any Watchtowers, or nothing."

"I came for my girl's stuff."

"She left drugs in here, too?"

I didn't see any reason not to stop trolling the angry woman standing at my front door with enough unwarranted entitlement to try my door handle like she lived in the place. Nichelle's face reminded me of a combination of the young version of actress N'Bushe Wright and retired porn actress Beauty Dior. The last six months of my failed marriage had really gotten me into some serious porn, if you really need an explanation for that description. She was wearing these braids, Ghana styled that added to her overall look.

"Open the door, nigga."

"Are you, alone?"

"What, you scared or something? You worried some brothers out here waiting to hem that ass up for being all foul with my girl?"

"No, I'd just like to know what type of weapon to use. Regular Glock or maybe, I could bust out the Lupara I got from my neighbor Sanchez, down the way." I unlocked the door walking over to my coffee table grabbing the remote.

"You ain't got no gun." Nichelle opened the screen door walking into my living room unfazed by the implied potential for gunplay.

"You ain't got no niggas, either." I turned on my flatscreen finding an episode of the Herculoids playing on one of my streaming services.

"So, I hope you ain't been going through her stuff all up in your feelings. I'm gonna pack her things and take them over to her mother's house."

"So." I shrugged turning up the television in an attempt to show Nichelle how little I cared.

She rolled her eyes stalking off to my bedroom to conduct her mission. I noticed she was wearing this juvenile halter top and some vintage gym shorts that left little to the imagination. Specifically, her cheeks were peeking out at me.

I walked into my kitchen area fishing out a box of cereal and a couple of beers. It had been a good forty eight hours since the situation with my wife blew up in my face. I'd smartly taken some vacation time to recoup and plan my divorce. I had an appointment with a lawyer in a few days, so I was observing the time honored tradition of a substantial drunk to dull lingering bruised feelings.

"YOU GOT SOME BOXES?!!"

"Look around, there's plenty of closets; I'm sure you know your way around here." I waved her off, opening a can of beer pouring it into my bowl.

Nichelle seemed to spend more time in my house than her own section 8 apartment. Of course I wasn't aware that she and my old lady were partners in crime trolling the hood for thugs until the shit hit the fan. One thing that never changed was the irate, antagonistic look on her face even when being supposedly cordial. The thirty three year old woman seemed to be perpetually bristling. I took the path of least resistance by speaking to her as little as possible and being functionally aloof. I didn't see the need to change things up at this point.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just look in the closets and stuff; there's a few boxes in the bedroom that we never used from moving in here. Those should be good, Nichelle." I was purposely dismissive, ignoring her demeanor.

Make no mistake about it, I knew before she left Nichelle was going to start some sort of argument to say all the things she'd been thinking since meeting me in person when my aforementioned spouse brought her into our home one Sunday afternoon. Perpetual blabbermouth that she was, my old lady had already given me a good idea who Nichelle was as a person leaving me with absolutely no desire to meet her whatsoever. Over the following weeks I was blessed with her presence so many times that I asked my wife if she were going to start paying rent. After pressing the issue further, Nichelle's visits became a little more infrequent.

"You ain't gonna get up and get no boxes for me?"

"No."

"Man, you trifling as fuck." Nichelle scoffed disappearing back into my bedroom inadvertently giving me another view of her bulging cheeks. It wasn't like I hadn't checked her out before, but I considered it harmless knowing I'd never cross the line. She kept her body up working out like a beast at the local gym, knowing her inherent worth.

"Whatever." She popped back out to address my comment.

"Oh, you supposed to be somebody or something? Think you got it like that; you got the smoke, nigga? Tell me where your girl at, then bruh?!!"

"She ain't here." I chuckled between spoonfuls of cereal sparking her ire further.

"Yeah she laying up with a real man, and what you got, huh?" I gotta admit, in the old days I would've exploded and tossed her out of my place on her butt. These were the later days, the older days of learned wisdom that brought with it, a controlled measured response.

"Freedom." I chuckled again, half giggling at her attempt to anger me.

"Freedom to use that right hand while your girl getting her bottom pounded out bruh! You into that self-gratification, nigga?" Nichelle forced out a condescending laugh.

"Hey, ain't you supposed to be doing something; or are you just gonna do open mic while I eat my breakfast?" She cartoonishly bucked her eyes embarrassing us both.

"You think you better than me because you married the white girl, but you ain't shit now. Thought you leveled up and left the sisters behind but found out you the flavor of last month. You mad Tyrone be riding your bitch while you making her money, huh? You mad, ain't you boy?!"

Nichelle drifted close to the other end of my dining room table figuring she was going to get some emotional content out of me, but several years of marital bondage had burned away the raw emotional within me. My poker face was absolute, but this out of pocket broad had no clue.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Her brow furrowed; teeth clenched.

"Well, it's obvious that you wanted to say these things to me since you met me, and I understand it Nichelle. Yeah you formed a quick friendship with my wife but obviously wasn't really her friend in the first place, especially after meeting me, the black husband. I got a pretty nice little place here and a bit of money in the bank. Kind of harsh finding someone you considered on par with you, squandering obvious assets. Now Nichelle, you figure everything's gone tits up and now you wanna pick the bones. For that, I'm sorry Nichelle." I continued eating my beer cornflakes.

"Asshole."

"Yeah I get that a lot for getting out of this mistake righteously; and about that right hand comment. You can check this out homegirl." I motioned towards my lap caring little whether she followed through or not. Nichelle inched around the table finding my penis half exposed through my pajama bottoms.

"YOU SHOWING ME YOUR FUCKING DICK?!!"

"Yeah, I got a little under ten inches of meat here; so tell me about that shit you were saying about my right hand, Nichelle. I don't think I'm gonna have any trouble getting a bitch to sit on this; do you?"

"NIGGA, YOU NASTY!!"

"Well, you seemed like you wanted to see it; but if it's bothering you that much, I'll put it away. Ain't your nigga in jail, by the way?"

"What you trying to say?!!"

"Nothing, I'm just trying to establish his location."

"Yeah he in jail, so what you trying to say?!!" I was absentmindedly handling my girth staring at her modest bust finding her nips prominent.

"Well." I raised an eyebrow.

"OH YOU TRYING TO PLAY DIRTY; THINK YOU RUNNING BACK TO THE HOOD AFTER BECKY FLIPPED THE SCRIPT ON YOUR ASS!!" I almost laughed in her face.

"No, I was just trying to make amends for offending you with my interracial relationship; besides I don't know what's going on in your life, but I figured you weren't getting any anyway, Nichelle. After listening to all the shit you've been talking, I've decided that a black girl is getting dicked down to hell. I'm gonna pay it forward and just rail the living shit outta some bitch with this." I motioned towards my exposed cock briefly.

"You ain't sly; you just trying to get at my girl."

"No, I want to seriously rail some chick with my junk. I'm pretty sure you know I wasn't really sleeping with my wife these last few months anyway; Nichelle I never stepped out on her and since we're done, I'm gonna make up for some lost time. So, somebody's getting fucked, today."

"Oh you think you got it like that, nigga?"

"Only one way for you to find out, bitch." I went back to eating my beer cereal caring little how she responded. I was a bit drunk to be honest.

Nichelle backed away walking back into the bedroom where she continued packing up my estranged wife's things. I finished my cereal, cleaning my bowl and wiping down the counter before having a seat on my sofa watching television. From my seat, I was afforded a view of my open bedroom door where Nichelle was stuffing a bunch of shit into a suitcase and two cardboard boxes on the bed. She didn't see me right away, so I got a really good look at her bubbled butt with those gym shorts wedged deep in the crack of her ass.

After a while, I got tired of watching turning my attention to the television taking in a cooking show. It was one of those internet based shows that I usually streamed on my phone when I was on break at work. These guys, a married couple like to do weird shit with food, and I sat there watching them make a gigantic Cheeto. I recalled how much I liked fooling around in the kitchen at times before I was discouraged out of that behavior.

Ironically enough, the wife hated spending time in the kitchen as well and a simple thing such as washing the dishes had become a massive fissure of grand canyon proportions. I assumed it was the gateway disagreement that led to other issues that contributed to the current dissolution of our marriage. I made a mental note to get some more beer later as Nichelle tapped the right side of my temple.

"What now?" She tossed a roll of condoms into my lap standing there with her hands on her hips.

The trio of gold packets didn't belong to me, indicting my spouse further than I really needed. The evidence of the shadow person frequenting my home whenever I was out employed, was tossed onto the coffee table. I glanced up finding Nichelle still standing there with her arms folded across her chest with an indecipherable expression on her face.

"Come over here and face the television." I leaned back running my palm over the top of my head caring little whether she complied or not.

Nichelle stepped between my spread legs and turned facing the television. I was given a direct view of her bubbled butt stretching the cotton material of those gym shorts in a manner that almost made them appear akin to underwear. A good portion of her cheeks were bulging outward in contrast to somewhat narrow hips with a pronounced under cuff over very muscular thighs. I stared for a while taking in everything before handling one cheek finding it thick and muscular to the touch. Her flesh was tactilely heated, defiant to my fingers. For lack of a better comparison, it was like squeezing one of the stress balls, you'd get after having a physical.

She didn't move but I could hear hard, labored breathing from my efforts. I grabbed both cheeks, kneading and spreading them apart. Those shorts ran deep between her legs with the crotch digging deep into her sex which was fast becoming sweaty under my touch. All ten of my fingers were working her cheeks and Nichelle didn't move an inch. Her scent was already assailing my nostrils signaling her acquiescence. This triggered something deep inside as my fingers found the elastic waistband of those gym shorts yanking them down to the prominent undercuff that made up the deep horizontal crease across the tops of her thighs.

Her rounded butt popped out muscular as ever, like some infinitely darkened, oversized peach. My palm slapped the right cheek seeking a jiggle that would never come. This woman in her mid-thirties, already a mother three times over from a string of failed relationships, was built for battle. My fist closed around those shorts yanking them down to equally muscular calves that would have given an outsider the impression Nichelle was a competitive runner. I used a bare foot to draw them down to the Persian rug under my coffee table.

"Bend over and spread your legs."

Nichelle bent at the waist planting her palms flat on the table assuming a perfect, ninety degree angle. This added a bit of roundness to her butt from this point of view. Both of my hands descended in dual hard slaps to her cheeks before I indulged myself further, kneading the flesh. I filled my fingers squeezing and groping until my thumbs pressed into puffy lower lips. I spread her apart finding a deep, rich pinkness and glistening wetness. Nichelle moaned under my efforts revealing her tensing insides. She gasped feeling my pointer finger slide inside her moist confines. Nichelle was steaming hot and slick to the touch, trembling a little as I pressed a certain spot. This got an immediate reaction causing her right leg to go rubbery and dip suddenly.

"Hold still, don't fucking move." My finger was steadily sliding in and out of her partially gaped slit eliciting sounds of her wetness.

Nichelle gasped as I buried my face between her thighs lapping at her slit, probing her inner walls with my tongue. Her insides were slick, salty and oily becoming even more so as I pressed closer feeling the warmth of her butt. She cried out in this vaguely masculine tone, whining and whimpering incessantly. My actions were wholly automatic sucking and kissing on her virtue. My tongue discovered her button swirling about until she dipped uncontrollably at the hip again almost taking me with her.

"Alright, put one of them fucking rubbers on my dick, bitch." My nose hurt as I leaned back on the couch breathing hard with her taste in my mouth.

Nichelle remained bent at the hip expeditiously ripping open one of the gold packets demonstrating a high degree of athleticism by reaching between her legs sheathing my erection. This woman proved sexually ambidextrous encircling my cock with fingers at the base while the over dutifully covered me in the lubricated shield of protection. It seemed like she intended to sit down wanting to impale herself, but I had other ideas. I jackknifed up driving my burgeoning prick home with clear and extreme prejudice.

She cried out in distressed fashion as I began long stroking her cunt finding a bit of creamy froth bubbling up around our connection. My efforts became more frenzied and erratic as I slapped wetly into her slit earning a series of loud sobs that fueled my actions further. She was just a serious hardbody with a figure that was innately defiant. This thirty something seemed almost cut out of marble taking everything I had to give like a true champion. The audible evidence of our frenzied actions seemed all encompassing as I continued giving her the business.

"Alright I'm gonna wax this ass for you, Nichelle; then you're gonna suck me."

Despite my words, I continued on for another fifteen minutes necessitating the woman plant her knees on the coffee table. She ended up propped on all fours dripping all over the tabletop.

"Stay just like that, I wanna see my cum drizzled all over this pretty ass."

"Oh-Okay." Nichelle responded weakly.

I gave her three additional pops of my hips before pulling out tearing the latex tube to ribbons as several thick ropes of milky cum glazed her cheeks and cunt. I stroked out a bit more as Nichelle watched staring between her own spread legs.

"Now I want you to take your top off; I want to see your fucking body fully naked before I fuck you some more." My tone was monotone as I glanced down at the remaining two gold packets.

I noticed a visible pause from her before she cautiously dismounted from my coffee table making sure to keep her eyes on me as she backed away a step or two. We stared at one another in some unsaid test of wills, her own brown eyes a little wider than usual before she relented. Nichelle stripped off the halter becoming completely nude in front of me less than an hour after she'd come into my home full of bluster.

Her figure was decidedly athletic owed to a regular gym routine that left this middle aged woman with little prospects due to her toxic attitude and trio of illegitimate children. Unknown to Nichelle, my old lady put her on blast during a dinner party with another set of friends, outing her for meeting her current incarcerated beau while visiting another jailed paramour. I wasn't gonna tell finding it ironic that Nichelle had been dispatched by my cowardly wife to collect her things.

Now that was just the definition of social savagery. There was just the slightest bit of looseness at her taut abdomen along with a bit of wrinkled skin and stretchmarks. She seemed more girlish and awkward not knowing how to stand as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her figure was backlit by the light from my television and the afternoon sunlight filtering in from venetian blinds.

"Come over here, Nichelle."

I snatched up her wrist roughly pulling her into my body cupping the soiled cheek as she caught herself half whimpering. My fingers couldn't get enough of its innate hardness squeezing hard. Nichelle squinted looking a mixture of anger and irritation. My nails dug into the under cuff of those unrelenting cheeks wanting to make them yield to me lifting her into the air planting her face up on my couch.