dt: yoncesbtch
onika tanya maraj.
june ninth.
houston, tx.
I was exhausted. So exhausted that even though I tried to stay awake to catch up with everyone I had missed speaking to over the last few days, my
phone kept dropping on my face. I was nodding off and waking back up.
I knew I needed to give it up, but as soon as I did, my phone lit up with a message, interrupting the slow jams I began to play to massage me to sleep. I groaned. I was tempted not to pick up the device, but like everybody else, I was addicted to it.
I used my face to unlock my phone and was immediately faced with my hand, manicured nails wrapped around a veiny, curved, lubricated dick.
Oh. I was definitely up now.
I could call the picture from a mile away, knew exactly what artist I'd went to for my nails, and could even call the bedsheets. The message below read 'A Year Ago, Today'. My ex just wouldn't give me a damn break.
I remembered the day vividly. It was the first time that I had shown her that other side of me. The side of me that craved cum and curves that hit the spot just right. I milked her dry from sun up to sun down. I made sure it physically hurt her to even look at another woman. I made that monster surrender to me only. And she was still like that, it seemed.
Before another thought could form, another nasty text came through. A video.
She sat in front of the mirror, blessed lingam in hand, moaning my name. She stroked, giving the tip so much love, knowing it was my favorite.
I put my phone down. She wasn't supposed to have access to me for this very reason, I just kept forgetting to block her. All my friends told me to leave her alone, that she wasn't good for my growth and that eventually we would be at two different places of life development. And they weren't wrong, it's why we broke up in the first place. But there was love for Beyoncé that would not go away. I would love her forever... We just... didn't fit, I guess.
My breathing sped up, my thoughts going back to her in that mirror. I remembered so many nights I sat her in front of that mirror, making her talk to herself and pleasure herself simultaneously. I remembered whispering in her ear, telling her that I owned her and she better get it right otherwise her and that mirror would be best friends until she did. And that's exactly what happened.
I turned her out. She was a sweet Houston girl when I met her, now she was disgusting. I taught her, showed her how to fuck with that python between her legs. I taught her how to stroke it, how to make it cum, and even how to bounce it. That's why she always came back. Knowledge is power, that's what she told me.
Another message came through. I picked up my phone again and swiped my thumb around to reveal the 'hidden' picture.
Her and I sat in front of the same mirror, her hand holding my arched back as she filled me up. I had my head thrown back so I knew my moans echoed through that room.
A slew of pictures came through and I knew they were taken tonight. She sat in front of the mirror once again, holding that dick and making it bounce.
I had to call her. This was all too much.
I called and she answered, silent on the other end of the phone, only the sound of her hard breathing and her hand working inside my ear. I knew what she was doing. Her staggered breathing was so sexy, it was like she was fighting off an orgasm that would not stop. She blew air out and mumbled 'fuck' under her breath. She was stroking that dick the way I would and I recognized that rhythm anywhere.
