MEGAN FOX, OMEGA SUPREME

Taliek part 3: Christina (tlc; always wanted T-Boz!)

    (Is that really Prince on guitar on the down low? Watch the white guy's hands...he doesn't know what he's doing. I know Prince wrote Waterfalls; probably gave them this too. Heard he was banging T-Boz. But this is why all that bragging in hip-hop don't mean shit. These honies were supposed to be millionaires five times over, but ended up broke and suing their management. Fuck the music industry too!)

 
      I re-read the note maybe fifty times. And despite the circumstances, I don't know that I've ever been more pleased with myself. Only meeting Christina and kicking it so well she was willing to fuck after only knowing me a few hours, comes close. I'm just realizing now that had Me and Christina done it, it would have been about the fifth time I'd had sex with a girl whose last name was a total mystery. And still is!

      Okay, I got an idea. This next installment will be about how I met Christina, the gorgeous White girl from Colorado, who had greenish blue eyes, a gorgeous face, and a fat, round, ass. She had a Native American baby daddy, but was done fucking with them and only wanted African American niggas at that point.

     Good. See, we could have done this the nice way...Now we'll do it the Lycan way. Author's Note: It gets better by the second take!

££££££

     Peep it, I was chilling with my boy Dap when I first saw her. Dap was inside one of his wolf-dens (that's what we called a home where our free pussy lived), and I was out in the BMW, listening to music and drinking an ice-cold forty of Old E. It was winter, I was mad drunk, I was extremely happy. Wolves just love the winter, and love drinking. Keep the weed, the crack, the K2, the coke, the heroin, the uppers, the downers...we wolves love drinking.

     We were over on the south side, where Fifty Cent hailed from (y'all know him; that nigga French Dressing afraid of?), and shorty came a sauntering down the block like she belonged there and shit. Well, she did and she didn't. It turns out that Christina was visiting some Black people who lived on that particular street. Furthermore, it turns out that I knew the family she was visiting. Eureka!

     Anyways, even from so far away, I could see she was fucking hot. We wolves all have excellent eyesight. But what I couldn't see was if her ass matched her swollen hips. From the front, she was banging. But did that booty truly measure up? Guess you only seen TV white girls huh? Well, allow me to educate your ignorant ass.

    I nearly leapt from the car, and raced down the block, catching the cutie just before she reached the home she was headed for. And my niggas, she was utterly lovely.

    Her face would later remind me of that really pale girl from the TV show Charmed. Not Phoebe and not Alyssa Milano. The cutie with the sexy body and the dimple in her chin. She also played in the Scream movies? Yes. I found out later Christina was Irish and British. Hell yeah. I also found out that she just loved my breed of wolf. Oh happy days! Cuz I just love her breed of kitten. And her big gold earrings ain't hurt.

     Christina had long, beautiful reddish brown hair and she wore it in a pony tail. She was rocking a short leather jacket. It was a cute look for her, it made her look rather ghetto, and accentuated her ghetto figure. She also had on tight jeans, which accentuated her fat butt and wide hips. From the moment I got close to her, I just knew my mouth would be exploring those curves. I was actually drooling as we spoke, though she was quite unaware of that.

     I spit the normal game; nothing special. White girls don't need nothing special from Black wolves. Not talk-wise, I mean. They just need us to be wolves. Which is fine with me! For I am The Wolf Among Us. (Get the free app at Google playstore or on Amazon apps. Also check out The Walking Dead and Game Of Thrones. Incredibly Fun!)

    I cajoled her into riding with me and Dap to the Green Acres Mall on Sunrise Highway (some pretty names in Queens, huh?), and we had a veritable ball showing her White ass off. Motherfuckers were tripping off her; she was clearly a Mary Jane, but she had swagger, and she walked like she was bouta-bout it. Shorty was doing her thing and I couldn't wait to get her alone so I could do my thing. Uh-huh.

        You must understand that White girls and Black boys go together like Oreo cookies. The attraction is eternal. Unwavering, regardless of the media, regardless of who you bring here; the country's irrelevant, so is the planet. And regardless of horrid movies like Get Out (that shit fucking sucked!), regardless of your FAKE NEWS. Duck, duck, goose!

     How deep is their love?

     This deep: I can't help it. I can't. It's deep within me. It's hundreds of years strong, thousands, millions. It's molecular, fibrous, extra-terrestrial. I'm sorry...no, I'm not. We connected. Nobody connects the way we connected. That's fact; that's what the entire universe conspires to destroy, to destabilize, our immortal connection. Strives to configure new false connections which never pan out. Never last. Fake statistics. Uh-huh. But they belong to us and US to them. They own US. He ran from the truth and found misery because of it. Please allow me to continue...

     When I finally got shorty back to my place, we simply talked. Talked for over three hours straight. The entire night, I was staring at her features like I'd never seen a girl before. I wanted to jump on her the whole time but kept my composure. We discussed everything under the sun. We even discussed the novelty of her having a fat ass and wide hips when they claimed White girls didn't have that. Over twenty years ago. We discussed how I was going to eat her all up.

     Like a fucking wolf.

     I asked could I touch her hair and she let me. It was so soft, and silky as I ran my fingers through it. I asked could I smell it and she let me. It smelled of strawberries. (I actually thought of my sister's Strawberry Shortcake doll!) I asked could I kiss her pretty lips and she let me. Not big lips like Kylie Jenner's, or Yara Shahidi's; but still beautiful, still soft.

    I asked her if she and her girls used the n word back in Colorado like I figured, and she said yes. I asked her to use it right now, in a sentence, and after a little hesitation, she did. And I liked it. (By the way, Dap was really pissed about me pulling Christina. So pissed, he pulled some fucked up shit later on--I'll get to it.) But I eventually asked if I could taste her sweet vanilla honey and she said:

     Me, playing Mr. Loverboy, just had to take a shower before taking shorty to heaven. I'd already taken one that morning, but I wanted to be extra clean for Christina. I was about to do shit I'd never done to a girl before. Things I'd always wanted to try. See, I'd already decided to leave New York and follow her back to her world. I wouldn't care about her baby daddy. If necessary, I'd kill that nigga. I only knew that what I was feeling went beyond love and lust; beyond good and evil...  

     Long story short, I told shorty keep quiet while I'm in the shower and if my grandmother knocks on the door, don't respond. Ya hear me? Don't say shit. Of course, my grandmother knocks and Christina responded. End of story. I had White honies after her, but she was the one I regret not having. Simply because I knew she was for me. Perhaps, Melissa Crawford could provide what my life sorely lacked?

     By the way, for your edification, the Green Acres Mall was the very mall me and Dap would both get arrested in a few weeks later...life, huh? Stay tuned for the next chapter...