TEMPORARY PLEASURE

Prologue

Chapter One

She had to admit to herself that this nigga had the best dick game that she had EVER had the pleasure of experiencing in her life. This man was talented as fuck with his mouth, omg!!! The way he was eating her shit right now from the back had a bitch ready to marry a nigga just for the dick. It didn't help that the man had a body sculpted from the Gods. Not to mention, he was a caramel-colored brother with a flat-as-a-board stomach. He was clean-shaven. This man had no hair except for his immaculate haircut and neatly trimmed bread.

This man had me holding on barely by a thread. His dick was pulsating in her pussy so good that she just knew if he kept hitting all her right spots, she was bound to soak up the nigga silk sheets that were a deep rich black color on his bed. On the tip of her tongue, she was getting ready to call this fine as fuck nigga daddy. He got her insides doing multiple somersaults. This nigga dick is magical. This is all Fatima could think about. This shit, right? Here, Jesus now you know this ain't fair. Now, why, Lord, do you decide to let our paths cross, and you know I have to walk away from him?

Not only is the nigga dick good, but he can hold a conversation well. He is educated and well-versed, and he has traveled the world. She did like him. They were catching a good-ass vibe before they decided to fuck.

Ooh, fuck daddy right there----daddy shit, that's it, please, she begged. She had to think about it for a quick second; she has not ever had to beg a nigga for the dick niggas just flocked to her ass. Gah, damn, this pussy is so good, ma shit she heard him say. His voice was laced with dark, lust-filled passion. How she wished she could never escape this feeling.

Being lost in her lust-filled thoughts...she could feel this man tuck his hands under her thighs and lift her slightly. So, he stated as he leaned closer, pushing her flowing straight hair off her shoulder, and licked his lips again as he came dangerously close to the bare skin of her neck. His lips glided across her neck, inhaling her scent mixed with the intoxicating smell of Versace perfume she wore, and his dick hardened with no hesitation. Fuck was all Fatima could muster at this point as she made her way quietly out of the one-night stands house. She was about to leave him behind forever, and they would never see each other again. Shit, she had to admit it to herself the nigga knew how to lay the fuckin pipe. Do you hear me!!! This nigga was working with a 9-inch dick, and he certainly knew how to use that thang too.

He slid his pulsating dick into her warm, velvety, creamy pussy, and he was blown the fuck away at how good this woman's pussy was. Zac has been getting pussy since the tender age of 15, and he thought now, at the age of 26, he was an expert at anything pussy related, but this shit right here was top fucking tier. This stallion right here was deadly. The way she was looking at me with her hazel-colored eyes and the way she was throwing that ass back at me was out of this fuckin world, let me tell you... She had a nigga like me fucking moaning. She had a nigga by the balls.

Boy, I'm telling y'all this girl shit so good a nigga want to live in this fucking girl pussy. Hands down, it's the best pussy I have EVER had. The way she threw this ass back on a nigga got me wanting to father all her fucking kids if she asked a nigga. I'm telling y'all this fine as fuck as a woman could ask me for my life, and I would give it to her. This shit she got between her legs is GOLDEN.

That's it right there, Mami, throw that ass back on me just like that he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. Do you know how fuckin good you feel right now, Ma?  You squeezing a nigga so tight. That's it, baby. Could you give it up to Daddy? The only sounds you could hear in the bedroom were loud grunting and slick skin slapping against the skin of the other person. A breathy cry came from Fatima's lips. All she could do at this point was get lost in the fantastic feelings she was experiencing.

Fatima checked her Apple watch, and it was almost two thirty in the morning. Damn, Fatima realized she had a few errands to run tomorrow morning before she had to go to work. She spots her Uber at the end of the driveway. The driver confirmed her identity, and Fatima was headed home for a much-needed sleep because that nigga wore her ass out. Most definitely in a good way, she thought.

Fatima finally made it home after the 20-minute drive; she thanked her driver and entered her apartment. It wasn't much by a long shot, but it was hers, and she was certainly proud to call it home after all the blood, sweat, and tears it took to get to this place. Damn, let me not be rude.

I'm Fatima Skye Wilson. I'm a 20-year-old senior in college studying law with a minor in social work.  I don't know if you can tell, but I've had it rough as hell growing up as a foster kid, bouncing from one foster home to the next. I never got a chance to know my parents; I was told that my parents died in a car crash when I was just three weeks old. The first memory Fatima could recall is being four years old and being teased because she didn't have any real parents, the other kids would say.

Growing up alone and without a family is tough. No one to teach you the ends and out of this cold world. Fatima had no one to encourage her to love on her to let her know that she was put on this earth for a purpose. There were so many things Fatima had never gotten to experience, which kids nowadays take for granted, for one, living in a two-parent household. Fatima never had an actual place to call home. She didn't have a mother figure to look up to and guide her in how a young lady should go. There was no one but the crackhead woman that only took her in so they could collect that check from the state every single month. There was no one there for her to teach her that waking up in the middle of the night to find your foster brother putting his hands down your pants while you're sleeping is not okay.  Fatima could recall all of the beatings she received from the people that were suppose to care for her but all she got was NOTHING.

She remembered all the times she got caught stealing from the corner stores because she was starving and had been deprived of food for days on end.  Fatima knew what it felt like to pray to God to end her suffering and pain. She remembered all the times she would be in the hospital because she had overdosed on a street drug to escape all the pain she endured daily. She could still feel the kicks of her foster mother repeatedly kicking her down a flight of stairs because her live-in boyfriend would always stare at Fatima. While being lost in her most private thoughts, Fatima realized she was crying silent tears.

Fatima worked, as you guessed it, as a stripper to make needs meat law school; you know, ain't cheap. Don't get me wrong. I want to be something in life. Taking off my clothes and shaking my ass for a living is not what I want out of life, but as of right now, it's a way to survive and put food on my table and pay these high ass bills, but I want more out of life.

Fatima made her way into her bedroom to grab a fresh set of night clothes to sleep in, and she walked into her bathroom and turned on the shower to wash off the day and the night from her body. While in the shower, she couldn't help but think about the mystery man who had blown her back out. It's a crying shame she won't ever be able to taste that again. She doesn't let herself get attached to the niggas she beds. There is no giving out names or contact information. It's strictly sex with her, and that's how she prefers it to be. Fatima finished her shower. She put lotion on her skin and climbed into her bed to get a few hours of sleep, but sleep wasn't coming fast enough because her mind kept going over her interactions with the mystery man.