SOME MEN WEAR PANTIES BOOK 1: WET SPECIAL EDITION

1:23 a.m.

Thursday morning:

I awakened from a deep sleep, horny. My husband snored away next to me, sounding like pigs on the loose. My clit was swollen. I had to rub my walls and quietly sing into the dark room to calm it. My pussy's name was Strawberry, and she had a thing for grapes and anal beads. The AC kept me cool. My nookie was hot, and my ass wanted to be good and fucked. I looked at my sleeping husband like he was a Martian.

Should I awaken him?

Hell, yea, Girl! my salty walls screamed with an attitude.

But my heart won over the battle and said, "Let the man sleep. He has a long day at the office. He takes care of his family, so who was I to wake him up?"

"You are a horny bitch, that's who you are. And you need to wake his ass up, Girl. I'm pulsating and I'm wet and right now I feel more like a twat than Hello, Kitty and you need to feed me, Seymour and I wasn't talking Little Shop of Horror Feed Me either, bitch."

I was about to explode. I had to rub my pussy again, to get her to calm down. Shhh, I cooed, hoping she listened. My pussy could be a stubborn bitch when she wanted to. I think she loved my husband more than I did. Strawberry had a mind of her own, and she wanted a Banana in her Split. Deep down inside I knew I could not wake him up. He had to get up at 6 a.m. Plus when we got married, he said he didn't like anyone messing with his body while he slept. He said Lorraina Bobbit forever fucked his head up when she cut off her husband's dick years ago. I understood. Because if somebody cut my pussy, I was seriously putting some unleaded in their asses, and I wasn't about gas.

2:34 a.m.

When the clock struck 2:34 a.m., I was smoking a cigarette. My thighs drummed together like Sheila E. on tour with Prince in the 80s. I needed some loving. I took a cold shower half an hour ago, without using the soap like the white girls do in the movies, since they seemed to be taking all the black men these days. I tried dating a white man, but he smelled like Rufus 24 hours a day, never used a wash rag to wash his ass and tried to stick his fist in my ass while fucking me with his big toe. Oh, hell no, and a no, and a fuck no, and a double you-got-me-fucked-up no. My homeboi, with his chocolate ass, dated a white girl and married her because she did things a black woman wasn't into. You're not pissing on me, taking a dump on me and I wasn't blowing bubbles in your hairy booty hole. I wasn't that type of country gal.

I had to stop fucking with one of my best friends. Cindy and I been close since Pre-K, but when her snow bunny looking ass fucked my daddy in college, right after he dropped us off and we checked into our dorms, I forgave her because we had too much to drink.

Years later she fucked my ex-boyfriend behind his daddy's minivan while his yuck mouth grandma was watching Girls Gone Wild from thirty years ago, when her titties weren't hanging curtains. I scrubbed the ground with that ho and beat her ass. Then a few months later she married my leftovers and had a set of twins. I visited that backstabbing ho at the hospital disguised as a janitor and whipped her ass right in front of her family and wrapped the strings from the Congratulations balloons around her neck and beat the saltine off that bitch. My dirty dick ex-boyfriend tried to grab me. "You see, that's why I don't date black bitches..."

Bap, bap. I punched him in his shit. It took a moment for him to react. "And that's why you date dog-smelling, Rufus Lassie the third bitches. I don't blow in booty holes you secret gay ass undercover brother ass scrub!"

"I'll kill you, bitch!"

"Ahhh, him is big mad. He ain't big mad, him is big mad. You wanna bowl of Fruity Pebbles, punk? Try it! Your swollen-foot daddy is worth half a billion dollars. I'll sue the fuck out of his ass if you try it! You broke my heart for this eater, this slaughter, this hood rat trailer trash ass bitch? I hope she told you that her brother is her cousin on her Mama side, since you like making babies with pigs and her own brothers ran her ass in like a free admission to Mission Impossible 5: hoes on ice."

He pulled out a gun and I ran up out of there before security or the police arrived. One of the cops spotted me, but after spitting on his swollen mushroom head, sucking his balls and riding that black baton until he came in ecstasy on my back, I talked the police chief into arresting him (for pulling a gun on me, and he was on hospital cameras, fuck boy) and the dick-gobbling white ho. Oh, she was mad and her white priviledge card was no match for the power of black pussy on blue-color dick. Call me DJ Quick.

I just needed a quick rinse off. And even that pissed me off because my sweet decadent center talked to me sometimes and that whore said, "Bitch, are you serious? It takes more than cold, purified water to cool the steam in my pink walls."

And Strawberry was right. Most people talked to animals and plants. Well, I talked to my nookie and read it some Robert Frost at times. I swear...Strawberry listened because every time I read "To the Thawing Wind" and "A Girl's Garden," my succulent lips soaked my panties to the point I had to wear a Depends diaper to sooth the ache in my thighs.

I was so horny I was about to fuck the bed. I did not like messing with my stubborn man while he slept. He was anal about things like that. I opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a green permanent marker. Opening the top, the architect in me came alive and I drew something on my inner thigh. Satisfied with the drawing, I then drew Italy next to it in its entire splendor.

Tossing the marker, I turned over and tugged on my husband. He snored even louder, pissing me off.