Deep Throat Diva (30 page)

He takes a bite into his bread, and smiles. “Yo, this shit is bangin’.”

I agree, hoping it changes the course of this conversation. “It tastes like cake. I could eat this whole pan,” I add, cutting another slice.

“No doubt. Listen,” he pauses. His intense stare dashes any hopes that this discussion is. “You got anything you wanna tell me? No jokes, no games, keep it a hunnid.”

I blink, shocked at the question. I am relieved when the waiter returns with my salad and Jasper’s cell rings. He ignores it. I share half of it with Jasper. Jasper tells the waiter he would like to order a Chimay Grand Reserve, then looks over at me to see if I want something. As bad as I want one of their mango mojitos, I decline. Order myself a passion fruit punch instead.

While I’m eating my seafood salad, it gets quiet between us. I find myself wondering why he asked if I had something to tell him. Other than being pregnant, what else would he think I had to tell? I shake it from my head, shifting to thoughts of being a mother. I try to imagine what our baby will look like. Will he or she have Jasper’s dark beautiful skin tone? Will he or she have my eyes, or Jasper’s? I wonder what kind of baby Jasper was. Was he a happy, always cooing-and-smiling baby, or was he one of those fussy, whining-colicky babies?

I steal glances at Jasper and smile. In less than three months, I’ll be almost five months pregnant and Jasper and I will be married. Of all the bitches he’s fucked, I’m the one who’s giving him a child; I’m the one he’s wifing.

He looks up from his plate, catches my smile. “Why you smilin’?”

“When you asked me if I had something to tell you, I do.”

He leans up in his seat, resting his elbows up on the table as if he’s waiting for me to drop a bomb on him. “Oh, word?”

“It’s a secret I’ve been keeping; actually a surprise for you,” I say, grinning now from ear-to-ear. “I was going to wait a little longer to tell you, but I can’t hold it in any longer.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m pregnant.”

His eyes widen. “You’re pregnant?” he asks, clearly surprised about the news. I nod. “Stop playin’ wit’ me, yo. You carryin’ my seed for real?”

“Yes, baby. That’s why I was going to the doctor’s a couple of weeks ago. I went to get tested. I’m five weeks pregnant.

His face lights up with a wide Kool-Aid smile. “Oh, shit, that’s wassup, baby.” He pulls me toward him, leans in and kisses me on the lips. “Yo, you just made me the happiest man alive, word up, yo.” He flags the waiter over. “Yo, my man, skip the beer. Let me get a bottle of that Dom P. My wife’s pregnant, yo.” The waiter congratulates us, and the couple sitting in earshot next to us does the same. Jasper goes to pull out his phone to call all his people to share the news, but I quickly stop him.

“No, baby, let’s wait,” I say, grabbing his hand. “I want to keep this between us for now. Let’s surprise everyone in a few more months.”

“Oh, aiight. No doubt.” He leans over and kisses me again. “I’ma be a father. I love the hell outta you, girl.” When the waiter returns with the bottle of champagne, he pours it into flutes. Jasper waits for him to walk off, then raises his glass. “To us. Me, you and our beautiful baby; together forever.”

Our glasses click. And for the rest of the night, Jasper talks incessantly about our life together and how nothing will come between us; how he’s going to give his child everything he never had; and be what his father could never be: A dad. A tear slides down his handsome face. He quickly brushes it away. I reach over and grab his hand; kiss it. It is the first time I’ve ever seen my man cry.

TWENTY-EIGHT

I
t is after two
A.M
. when I slyly slip out of bed, careful not to wake up Jasper. We finished our nightly fuck session almost two hours ago, and I’m still restless. Jasper collapsed over on the side of his bed and passed out sweaty shortly after he busted his third round up in me. I can hear his heavy breathing and light snoring, letting me know he’s in a deep sleep—one I fucked him into. One I should be in as well. But I am not. Instead, I have been lying in bed staring up into the darkness. I steal one last peek at Jasper as I ease out of the bedroom and saunter into the spare bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind me.

My laptop is sitting over on the cherry wood desk in sleep mode, but quickly comes to life with the touch of the mouse. I sit at the desk, closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath. It’s been almost three weeks since I’ve shut down my Nastyfreaks4u page and close to two weeks since I’ve logged onto my AOL account to check my emails.

Girl, what the fuck is wrong with you? You have a fine-ass man who fucked you down lovely lying up in the other room and your trifling ass is in here on creep mode. Not to mention all the drama that nut brought you. That nigga almost turned your whole world upside down.
Being the hardheaded ho that I am, I ignore my inner voice, and sign onto AOL. I wait for the screen to open. The voice alerts me I have new messages.

I open the first email.
Hello. Nice ad. Professional, happily involved
white man here. 36, 5’10”, 178 lbs, lean, toned body. Nice cock for your hot mouth and throat. Would love to meet. Looking for someone who is into swallowing my cock juice. I’d like to see you on your knees looking into my eyes as you feel my cock pump a hot load down your throat.

I delete, going to the next email.
Hey Deep Throat. I’m 5’11 black 195lbs with a nice 8.5 thick, fat cock for your mouth and throat. Private, very discreet. Married with family here. Cool, laidback guy. D/D disease free here. Need the same.

Although the email is two weeks old, I decide to send a reply, anyway.
Hello there. If you are still looking to get sucked, I’m interested in sucking your thick, fat dick. If you can, send a pic. Thanks!
Five minutes later an IM box pops up.

Ready2nutInU: Hey. What’s good? Got ya email. I sent pic
Deepthroatdiva: Hey back. Don’t C it in inbox, yet

When I hear, “You’ve got mail,” I minimize the IM box, then click on the new message. The second it opens I am immediately greeted with a pic of a beautifully curved dick with a mouthwatering, juicy head. My mouth starts to drool. I reopen the IM box and type.

Deepthroatdiva: Beautiful dick! It looks like it tastes good 2

Ready2nutInU: LOL. Thx! U wanna taste it 4 urself?

Deepthroatdiva: YES!

Ready2nutInU: what u look like?

Deepthroatdiva: sexy, classy-type. U’d never know I do what I do, the way I do it

Ready2nutInU: cool. Can u send a pic?

Deepthroatdiva: No. VERY, VERY discreet here

Ready2nutInU: Cool. U married?

Deepthroatdiva: engaged. What u look like?

Ready2nutInU: brown-skin, avg type cat. Low-cut fade. Luv my dick sucked

Deepthroatdiva: Nice

Ready2nutInU: u got webcam?

Deepthroatdiva: No

Ready2nutInU: Damn. Gotta go. Wife call’n 4 me. I go to gym @ 6am. Can we meet?

I blink, try to convince myself that this is not only a bad idea; it’s a dangerous one. However, I’m too caught up in the idea of sucking on his dick to see, think, clearly enough to tell this nigga no can do. Tell him that I’m engaged; that my man is in the next room; that I’m a little over two months’ pregnant. I am too blinded by lust to listen to the nagging voice in my head warning me, reminding me, that Jasper is home now. Instead, I assure myself that it’ll be the last time. That Jasper won’t find out. I tell him yes. Tell him I go to the gym as well; that I can meet him at seven. We decide to meet at Mountainside Park. We exchange car info. I tell him how I can’t wait to taste his fat dick; how I can’t wait to make love to it with my mouth, lips, tongue and hands; how I love to deep throat; how I am going to suck his dick in a way his wife never has. I tell him how I am fantasizing about being on my knees and worshiping his cock and swallowing his creamy load. He tells me how hard I’m making his dick; how he can’t wait to have it sucked; that his wife half-sucks it. I ask him if he’s ready to bust a fat nut from some good head and a deep throat. He types:
HELL muthafuckn YEAH!

I am so caught up in the cyber-sex play that I don’t hear Jasper when he comes into the room. It isn’t until he walks up on me that he startles me. “Aye, yo,” he says, standing in back of me,
“what you doin’ in here? Who you online talkin’ to this time’a night?”

I quickly click out of the screen. “Oh, hey,” I say, shutting my laptop. I get up and face him. He’s standing in front of me naked. “Umm, uh, I didn’t hear you get up.”

He studies me; narrows his eyes. “Yo, I asked you who the fuck you on the internet wit’?” I can see the veins in his neck starting to swell, which tells me if I don’t give him a suitable answer within the next few seconds there’s going to be major problem up in here.

I suck my teeth. “I was online with a rep from the bridal shop where I’m ordering favors for the wedding,” I tell him. I let the lie continue to roll off of my tongue. “Most online stores now have agents who will ask you if you need any help.”

He stares at me, clenching his jaws. “Why the fuck you online this time of night ordering shit, then?”

“Because, one, I can’t get anything done during the day when I’m down at the salon. And, two, sometimes you can find cheaper deals when you shop late at night.”

The vein on the side of his neck relaxes and he unclenches his jaw. “Show me the fucking website you were on then,” he demands.

I suck my teeth. Flip open the laptop, then wait for the screen to come alive. I click into my web server, then pull up a bridal site. I click on a few buttons, bring up my customer account number and show him my order. “Satisfied?” I ask. I step back so he can see for himself, hoping like hell it keeps his suspicions at bay.

“Yeah, aiight. Don’t let me find out some other shit, yo.”

“Some other shit like what, Jasper?”

“Like you tryna fuckin’ play me.”

I huff. “Here we go with this shit again. I don’t know why you always acting so paranoid.”

“’Cause I know how bitches can be.”

“You know what, I’m so sick of you saying that shit. If you feel like every bitch is on it like that, then we need to end this shit, now,” I storm past him, heading back into the bedroom. “You got the wrong one if you think I’m about to keep going through this with you. We need to call off this wedding and be done with this dumb shit. You go on about your business; take care of our baby and leave me the fuck alone. I’m done.”

“Yo, hold the fuck up,” he snaps, grabbing me by the arm.

I yank my arm away. “Get the fuck off of me, nigga.”

He blocks the doorway. “I’m not done talkin’, yo.”

“Well, I am. Now move the fuck out my way.” The only reason I’m talking extra greasy is because I’m pregnant and he’d never hit me while I’m carrying his seed. I try to push him out of the way, but he doesn’t budge. “Nigga, get the fuck out the way.”

“Aye yo, what I tell you ’bout ya mouth? You ’bout to get ya whole front knocked out, word up.”

I fold my arms across my chest defiantly. “Whatever. All I know is I’m sick of this shit with you.”

“Well, you need to get the fuck over that,” he says, eyeing me. “’Cause like I told you before, you ain’t goin’ nowhere, and neither am I. And now you havin’ my seed, it’s a wrap. You stuck wit’ me, baby. So watch ya mouth or get smacked in it.”

I grunt, placing my hands on my hips. “Mmmph. Well, if that’s so, then know this. I’ve rode shit out with you your whole fucking bid. I’ve waited for your black ass to get home, nigga. And don’t think for one fucking minute the shit was easy, because it wasn’t. The next bitch woulda been done bounced on you. But I stayed. Not because I needed to, but because I wanted to. So stop coming at me all aggressive and shit. I’m yours, nigga.”

He smirks, letting his eyes drop down to my hard nipples, then to my stomach. I’m not really showing yet. “Oh, you mine?”

“All yours,” I tell him, stepping up into his space. The tension between us begins to lift. I press my body up against his. Grind my pelvis into him.

“Then get ya ass back in bed.” He steps back to let me by. I glance over my shoulder and catch him staring back at my laptop. “I’m tellin’ you, Pasha, don’t have me fuck you up, yo.”

TWENTY-NINE

B
etween the long hours at the salon, trying to tie-up last-minute wedding details—like making sure my dress will fit me by the time it’s time to go down the aisle, and Jasper’s constant mood swings, I don’t know if I’m coming or going. Shit, I’m the one who should be on an emotional roller coaster—I’m the one knocked up! But, the way Jasper carries on, you would think he’s the one three months’ pregnant. The nigga’s moods are too damn unpredictable for me, and it’s nerve-wracking. One minute, he’s yelling and cursing and screaming at me; the next minute he’s telling me how much he loves me. A few days’ll go by and everything will be good between us. Then without provocation, his moody ass will flip the switch and start accusing and threatening me. I’m telling you. The way he’s been acting, I have to wonder if he isn’t out there doing his own dirt. I mean, damn! The nigga has me walking on eggshells. I don’t know what little voices he’s hearing in his head, but whatever they’re saying to him has him acting like a certified fool.

Since that last incident a month or so ago when Jasper walked up on me in the middle of the night while I was online, I’ve been keeping it real low-key. That shit was too close for comfort and I don’t need any more close calls like that. I didn’t even go off and meet the nigga like I had planned. And I haven’t been going online looking for extra dick to suck, either. Yes, the thought crossed my mind once or twice…but, that’s it. I’m not doing shit.
One, I’m pregnant; and, two, it’s too damn dangerous. Jasper watches and checks every move I make. The last thing I’m interested in is having him snap the fuck out on me. I’m seriously thinking he needs to see someone to help him with whatever is going on with him. I don’t know if it’s nerves or what, but something isn’t right. And it’s starting to get on my last goddamn nerve!