ARE YOU FREAKY DEAKY Book 1 (Erotica)

34. The Plane

I cried so hard this black girl next to me had to hug me to calm me down.

“She touched me! She touched me!” I chanted, shaking like I was the Queen of Tremors.

I watched excitedly, hanging onto her every word. I loved the ripped jeans, the colorful high heeled boots, the slanted red hat, the huge hoop earrings.

She was so stunningly gorgeous, nowhere on her was a trace of the 60 extra pounds she’d shed over the last few months, when she was the butt of a thousand jokes.

Those same people were now biting dust. Janet Jackson was back.

After admiring her and drooling for the next hour and a half, she signed my T-shirt and new promo poster handed out to me when I got there.

I would cherish it. I also told her I entered her Design My CD cover contest. She only smiled.

But before I was to go through all that with Janet, on the previous Thursday, I flew to New York via my grandmother, who knew how much I looked like, loved and admired Janet.

When I told her I was selected to attend the live taping she told everybody.

Grandma paid for me to go, my hotel
for two nights, my plane ticket round trip and my food. She gave me 400 dollars.

“Go rep us Miami Bitches,” she said, no teeth in her mouth, bald head (because she just beat cancer).

She was just the most humorous, uplifting soul you’d meet. I did just that. Represented.

I was still on a dick high. I got my first taste of New York dick on the plane. I met a handsome man with the charisma of Billy Dee Williams.

He said he was from New York. He sat by me. I wore a long dress and some red pumps, my hair long and real. No weave going on here.

I was trying to ignore him but he pulled out one of the magazines from the back of the seat and was like, “Doesn’t Bill Gates looks ugly?”

And I smiled, saying, “His money isn’t ugly.”
“And neither are you. Sup, Ma. You’re
traveling alone?”

I didn’t appreciate him trying to get all in my business.

In fact it pissed me off. “Yea, why?” He gave me a long, lingering look. I felt like the Dow Jones on Wall Street. “Because I think you look good.”

Get out my face, I am not feeling you! “So do you, pimp.”

Why did I just lie?

He saw the lust in my eyes. “What that pussy smelling like?”

Time to pull his card. “Roses.”

“Shit, can I see?”

“You can smell.”

I took his hand and put it between my legs,looking around making sure no one noticed. I took out my huge blanket and covered the lower half of our bodies.

He slow fucked me with those hairy,bthick fingers. I grinded on them.

“Taste my pussy...”

He put his fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes, moaning softly. Hmmm.

Good.

“I know,” I told him.

“Sup with tasting this fat dick?”

I licked my lips, but when he unzipped his pants and I saw Pee Wee Herman waving at me I was like, “I’m straight.”

“Sup, Ma?”

I was deeply offended. “I don’t do little dicked men. Sorry.”

He huffed and puffed and changed seats.

Oh, well.

Was I supposed to be offended?

Nah. Didn’t think so.

Fuck you, too! Little dick man.