“Oh I’ll show you who is a bitch! Go tell that to your hoe!”

Words that could never be taken back still rung deep in her ears. Chest heaving. Shirt disheveled. Face swollen from too many tears.

Eva buried her face in her hands and finally gave up. For the past two hours, she’d been sitting on the side of the road with a broken car and a broken heart.

RRrrrrRR click click hisss RRRRrrrrR click
come on baby start for mama

click hiss silence.

Frogs greeted the moon and animals rustled in the bushes. The world had fallen apart and the last thing she needed was the car to die along with her relationship.

Thomas, her boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend now, was probably still cleaning up the house she destroyed. Moans that were not her own greeted her as she came home just a bit too early from a business trip. To think she hopped on a midnight flight trying to surprise Thomas. Heels that didn’t belong to her were thrown in the hallway. Cheap and ugly shoes.

Just like his hoe.

Stop that. Focus.

Eva silenced her thoughts and reached for her cell. The battery blinked and the phone went black. She cussed herself for not charging it at work. With no other choice, she adjusted her pencil skirt, grabbed her jacket, purse and useless phone and started walking. There had to be a gas station somewhere.

She’d just been driving and wasn’t sure where she was.

God please don’t let me die out here.

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Have you even been with two men at the same time?

I have.

It was always just a fantasy. The kind you daydreamed about at the most random moments to escape whatever daunting task of the day.

I’d never been experimental in the bedroom but I was drunk (yes, blame it on the liquor), the twins were fine and I was feeling freaky.

Donte was a guy I dated for eight months before realizing he wasn’t the one. The worst part, the sex was fantastic! Problem? He was a teenage boy stuck in a thirty-two year old man’s body. Having a conversation with Donte revolved around video games, going clubbing, smoking weed, drinking and getting it “poppin”, only to do it all over again. It was three months in the relationship that I realized I got the wrong twin.

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The Cotten Kandi Diaries: “Sex Education 101″ Written By: Dee Rene

I wonder what it’s like to bend her over.

Jason adjusted in his seat as the Leslie, the newest graduate assistant for his anatomy course, prepared to lead the lecture today.

Leslie wore one of those new skirts women are wearing that come high up above their waist and hugged each and every curve. Although she didn’t have much in the cleavage department, her thick thighs and round backside made up for it all. She was deep chocolate and he wondered was if her juices tasted like a Hershey bar.

While she began her lecture, all he could think about was her lips and what they must feel like. Needless to say he didn’t get one note taken down in the whole lecture or the one from the day before, or the day before that. He only snapped back into reality when Professor Johnson stood 20 minutes before the end of lecture and announced a pop quiz.

Shit.

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Hi I’m Shay. I don’t know when I became so sexually inhibited. There wasn’t an actual, date, time or place when I realized I was a freak. I learned the art of masturbation after several unpleasant, unmemorable sexual encounters I care not to mention. Thereafter, I decided I needed to learn how to pleasure myself. I mastered the art of masturbation. I even mastered the art of masturbating others. I sometimes think I enjoy it even more so than my lovers.

It’s when I realized I had become somewhat of a dominatrix. After a brief conversation with a friend (a fellow freak) and a stack of student loans I needed to pay back, she convinced me to become one. She set me up with an agency that specialized in these sort of things and well….I’ve been dominating ever since. That was two years ago.

I dominate. I preferred being dominant. The more control I have the more turned on I am. I especially love dominating men.

Well, for one, I am a heterosexual female and although I’ve encountered a few lesbians I find making a man my bitch sexy.

On one particular occasion I think I may have gone  a bit too far. So I thought until my “lover” climaxed. He enjoyed it too.

Dick was a nice guy. _______READMORE

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Tanya and Jacob had been friends since Nickelodeon was showing “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” They’d grown up through braces, graduation pictures, drunken college nights and the first few years in the real world. They’d counseled each other through bad breakups and family deaths.

Their friendship was one of those special things no one could understand and no one else could match.

Tanya sat on Jacob’s couch one Friday night with a bottle of wine and an extra large pizza. Heartbroken, she poured out her feelings and searched for comfort at the bottom of the bottle. Jacob listened intently to yet another love story gone wrong. He’d recently broken off his relationship and so he felt her pain.

“Why do you even deal with these guys?” He asked her as she told the story about another man who didn’t treat her right and didn’t appreciate her.

“I loved him! Like, he was so sweet and he meant the world to me. I can’t believe he ended up talking to another bitch! Like he slept with her! And had the nerve to deny it like I was crazy.” She stopped to take another swig of the wine. “I mean, I’m holding the text messages right there, with the naked pics she sent, and he is still telling me he didn’t sleep with her. He ain’t shit! None of yall … “ she sighed loudly and threw herself back into the couch with the wine bottle clutched tightly to her chest.

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Paul walked into his empty home yet again. His wife was missing and this time, he was sure, she had had another late night at work.

It seemed this happened a lot lately. He’d come home expecting a warm embrace, a hot meal and perhaps a little romance.

“Sharmaine you home?”

Crickets.

Paul had noticed his wife was never home anymore. Her career was taking flight and he had become the next best thing – no longer a priority.

He was neglected, in more ways than he cared to mention. Mentally, emotionally and physically.

‘When the hell is she gonna come home? I need some ass,’ he thought.

Paul proceeded to warm himself the frozen TV dinner he had become accustomed to as of late.

Meanwhile Sharmaine was at work plotting just how she could surprise her husband.

Six months ago she and her best friend, Melissa, launched their event planning business. Business was booming. They’d spent four months prior networking and planning for two wedding receptions, a sweet sixteen and four bridal showers. Although they’d started off with a bang, the long hours had had a strain on her personal life. Her husband had become less of a priority. Movie nights were now in the past, many date nights had been cancelled and she felt a ton of guilt.

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Every Saturday the same old thing. Marcy loved her husband but she hated his sex. The routine almost drove her insane. Love making during the week was impossible because of their work schedules so Saturday morning she would assume the position when the alarm buzzed.

Every Saturday the alarm would buzz. He reached his arm around her to signal he was ready to get started. In missionary position, she’d pretend to be excited as he got on top of her. They’d kiss a few times and he pushed inside of her. Thrusting until he was satisfied with the moans of her fake orgasm and then he’d climax. They’d shower and go on to run errands. Marcy started to think she’d be better off spending that time clipping coupons.

“I’ve had enough,” she sighed to a girlfriend one Sunday at brunch. “I love my husband. I would never leave him. But I want an Academy Award for all of the great orgasm performances I’ve put on. There’s just no passion.”

Her friend listened quietly then said, “So make it happen. Bring back the passion.”

“Huh?” Marcy stammered. “How am I supposed to do that? He’s the man. He should be making sure I’m satisfied.”

“Girl you better get in 2012. I know you are 37, but you aren’t too old to learn a few tricks yourself and teach him some.”

Marcy playfully pinched her friend’s arm for calling out her age but eventually agreed. She was going to learn some new tricks.

Google and the sex shop on the other side of town became Marcy’s best friend that week. When Saturday came, her husband had no idea what was on it’s way.

Alarm buzzed.

Greg reached to the other side of the bed to pull his wife closer but only pulled cold pillows. Confusion made him sit up a little straighter and call out her name in the dimly lit room. To his surprise, Marcy was dressed in a lace cat suit and heels he hadn’t seen her wear since her 20s.

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Adrienne was the type of girl many of men pined over. She was the prom queen, the beautiful cheerleader standing 5 “5″ tall, exotic, beautiful bouncy hair with permanent curls. It didn’t hurt she was voluptuous in all the “right” places. A thin waist, big boobs, full hips and a round derriere.

He noticed her immediately as she walked in their neighborhood coffee shop. She actually knocked him over as she came stumbling in. She was obviously running late for something.

“Oh I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to run into you. I’m in a rush. Sorry about that.”

Gastby said nothing. Even if he had something to say she was already at the counter placing an order to go. He stood there staring. He actually forget he was on his way out when she entered the shop. It didn’t take long before she placed her order and was now returning back to the exit. He watched her intently while at the same time hoping he didn’t look creepy. She was walking back pretty fast when she noticed his intent stare. This time, however, she noticed him. And she knew his face looked familiar but couldn’t place it.

Gatsby stood 6 “1 tall, a dark mahogany, smooth skin, a nearly perfect hairline with a low cut, straight teeth and symmetrical features. He could have been a model. He wore a dark navy blue suit, white button down shirt, black loafers and a bluish grey tie. He had been heading home from work when he decided to stop for coffee. He would be heading back out for an event for an up and coming artist. He was now an A&R for a major record label in New York City.

Not surprising if you knew Gatsby. He was destined to be successful. He was the boy-next-door who was required by his parents to go to church every Sunday, always got good grades, stayed out of trouble and was always able to lend a helping hand. It was the church choir that honed his ear for music and his own talent. He could sing but was not to be the star. He would be the mind behind the talent, the brains. And that he had, brains.

Back in high school he wouldn’t have had the nerve to say anything to someone like Adrienne. He always admired her from a far but that was it. On the few occasions they had any interaction they had been in the same class. They had actually had quite a few classes together. They attended all of junior high and high school together. He remembered like it was yesterday. She walked in his 6th grade class wearing a floral pink and white pattern dress. She and her family had just moved in the neighborhood, and it was her first day in school. He’d been an admirer ever since.

“Hi. Excuse me, Adrienne?”

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Did I really climax three times?

From the guy who just stopped being a virgin twenty minutes ago?

Ok so maybe it wasn’t twenty minutes ago but the guy was definitely inexperienced when it came to sex.

Tyler was a beautiful man but he was quiet and bordering on shy. His close brush cut, business casual attire, and modest build made him fade into the background. If you weren’t paying attention you would walk right past him as just another guy in the office.

When had that changed?

Shonda rolled over to face the wall and felt a soreness in her vagina. That good hurt when a man puts in work into the sex like it’s his 9-5 paid position.

Her thoughts screaming a mile a minute as Tyler wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. She didn’t even care that her freshly pressed hair was now a mess.

Damn. How did they even get here?

About six months ago she started working at XY Corp. It was her dream job in marketing and she got to work with amazing people. She encountered tyler one day in the break room reading the paper and sitting all alone. She’s not sure what compelled her to go over there and speak to him but from that day forward they’d do lunch at least three times a week.

He never made a pass at her and she almost decided he might have been gay.

One day the lunch conversation turned a bit more intense as they discussed a scandalous new office romance. Word in the copier room was that the CEO was sleeping with the head of advertising and they’d even gotten it on in his office!

Tyler looked noticeably uncomfortable as Shonda told the story in full animation – hand gestures and little dirty comments included.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just, I don’t know what to say. I never really had sex more than twice in my life so I’m not sure how to really add to this conversation.”

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There’s something about having a drink after a long day that always feels soothing.

This time, Rena and I stopped at the local Manhattan pub, “Lush”. It was happy hour and I intended on getting happy. After working a long and very busy nine hours in a law office paraded by arrogant male attorneys, I was through. When asked to work over-time on a long civil suit, I was convinced we’d lose, I’d abruptly answered “No!”

“Ms. Sanders, you’re our best legal aid and I see bright stars in your future.”

That’s exactly what he, my boss Mr. Finestein, said eight years ago when he hired me. I was over-worked, under paid, and tired. It was precisely why I was still single. My lover had been my career, with little benefits and no four-play. I told him “bye” and walked through the door.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that I was, in fact, his best aid, I’m sure he would have given me a harder time.

“Dasia, you want another drink?”

“Of course.”

Rena was our office assistant. Although she was nine years my junior I had grown fond of her. She reminded me of a younger version of myself. So full of life, a great sense of humor and driven. She was finishing up her junior year in college with high hopes of becoming a criminal prosecutor. I just hope she knows “Finestein & Co.” wasn’t gonna help her get there.

“Why so down Dasia? Even after three Long Islands you still have that grim look on your face.”

Before I could answer she interjected, “Don’t tell me, I know. You need a man.”

Usually I would dispel her accusations, but, I left it alone. Deep down I knew she was right. It wasn’t so much I needed a man but I wanted one. I wanted to be loved. To be hugged, or even just someone to talk to. I needed a boo.

The last time I went on a date was six months ago. I spent the entire night staring at his yellow stained teeth, wide gap and atrocious laughter. His name was Gary, I think.

Whatever. But, I knew one thing, Gary wasn’t it. Whatever that it was, I wasn’t sure, but Gary just wasn’t it.

The bar was full of middle-aged men checking out the ladies, all seven of us. I hadn’t noticed when a group of, what I thought, were five men strolled in looking for a vacant table.

Almost immediately the smallest, standing at a mere 5 “6”, approached the bar.

“Can I have three rum and cokes and two coronas please?”

Even with the dimmed lighting it didn’t take long to realize I knew this person. A voice I was all too familiar with. She’d been my college roommate. As if she too had noticed a familiar figure in her presence she turned to her left to see me sitting there. She greeted me with a smile and I stared blankly in her almond eyes, full lips, smooth honey caramel complexion and heart-shaped faced. She’d grown locks and had dyed them a light auburn.

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*This damn job is getting on my nerves.*

Maxine put her head down on her desk. Fed up with Outlook e-mails and adults who don’t read, she dumped out her purse trying to find change for the vending machine.

A two lip sticks, an old party flyer, condoms, and two dimes landed on her files. A whole quarter short of a delicious sweet snack.

*This is bullsh*t. No, no, this is the universe telling me I don’t need to
cheat on my diet. I should work out instead to ease some of this
frustration.*

She’d been doing the “get fit” thing for a few weeks and only recently
added a personal trainer to her repertoire. Mark was everything she needed to maintain work out motivation. His voice was smooth, deep and encouraging. His routines were legendary. And most of all, she could see his package bulge over her when he spotted her for squats. Even in loose clothing he couldn’t hide that almond butter surprise he was keeping below the waist line.

“Focus hoe, focus”, she’d repeat to herself so that he didn’t catch her
staring.

Although he wasn’t going to be her trainer tonight, he never worked on
Fridays, she was picturing his dimpled smile. It was all the motivation she needed.

Maxine decided to walk to the gym today to help burn the calories.

Motivational posters of skinny women and food with no taste encouraged her that she could be just like them she walked into the gym. Maxine entered the locker room and changed into workout clothes. She checked out her expansive ba-dunk-a-dunk in her grey workout pants and made it jiggle a little. Laughing to herself, she pulled her long hair up into a messy bun, pressed play on the iPod and hit the main floor.

No one there but the usual – the blonde girl running on the treadmill with the speed set on “die”, a couple, and the man who makes strange noises when he lifts. She stood straddling the treadmill deciding between the “weight management” setting and the “other shit” setting when someone tapped her hand.

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