The Johnson Sisters (4 page)

“This toy hasn't been used, has it?” Shauna asked, frowning up her face.

“All of my products are not used,” Ashley said with a smile.

“Some of us might not know what it's supposed to feel like, because we've never stuck our fingers inside ourselves,” a guest said. All heads turned to her in shock.

“You haven't fingered yourself?” Shauna asked bluntly.

“No,” my guest said.

“I have heard it all,” Vivian said. “One doesn't like big dicks, and now we have one who doesn't know what her own coochie feels like. I'm done,” my sis said, throwing her hands up.

“Imagine this would be how you feel,” Ashley urged. “If you don't want to do it, then you don't have to.”

Each woman, including my guest who said she never felt herself, slid her finger inside the sleeve, frowning her face in disgust.

“Damn, this feels real. I'm sold,” Serena said. “I might get two, in case Tyree wears one out.”

Everybody laughed.

Vivian looked at Kimara and asked, “Does your man have this?”

“Of course he does. Once I slid that thing up and down his dick, that fool went crazy. And to enhance his pleasure, I stuck the bullet in the other end of it to make it vibrate his head when he went deep into it,” Kimara explained.

“You know, you would be a great consultant,” Ashley suggested.

“Damn right she would. She's a walking billboard on these products,” Vivian agreed.

The last product Ashley ended up talking about was the swing, and of course it was brought up by freak-nasty herself, Kimara.

“Yes, we do have the swing, but I don't carry it with me due to the fact that I can't assemble it in someone's home. Once it's up, it's up. But, I do have the box, which has a picture of it and the different positions that can be done with it,” Ashley said.

Ashley passed the box around the room, and most of the women didn't want to let the box go. They were impressed with the many positions that were possible.

Once Kimara got the box, she asked Ashley, “So, have you tried it?”

“I haven't, but I have associates who have, and they loved it,” Ashley said, giggling.

“Forget swinging from the chandelier. We need this,” Shauna said.

“How much is it?” a guest asked.

“It's two hundred dollars,” Ashley answered.

“Damn. That's a lot of money to figure out what else we can do when it comes to sex,” Vivian said.

“This coming from the one who would like to put a stripper pole in her house,” I said.

“Okay, you got me,” Vivian said. “Great point. Maybe I should invest in one of these bad boys, too.”

“First you got to get a man,” I joked.

“Who says I don't have one?” Vivian countered.

This got me to thinking. Did Vivian have a man we didn't know about? She was private like that.

Finally it was the end of Ashley's showing. Now it was time for her to go into a separate room to take us one by one to place our orders. This way no one knew what the other ordered. Privacy first and foremost, but most of them told what they were buying, especially my friend Kimara.

“I need some nipple drops and some more of that edible oil that heats up when you put it on your skin. I need another pocket coochie. I want some anal beads, and some of that lubricant for the anus. And I'm getting that fishnet garter set. I've wanted that thing for a minute. And you know what? I think I'm going to get that swing, too. That position with her in the swing and the man eating her out . . . hell, I'm getting the swing for that position alone. He can do the front and twirl me around and lick the back,” Kimara said.

“You are so nasty. You let a man lick your anal region?” Dawn asked her.

“Damn right. I'd rather have that licked than my poon poon. You never had that done before?” Kimara asked.

“Hell no,” Dawn blurted.

“Girl, you don't know what you missing. It's a different type of climax. It tickles at first, but once you get used to it, it's amazing.”

I told the ladies to help themselves to the food I had catered. While they were getting their eat on, I was going to go pick out what merchandise I wanted. I went back last, because Ashley had to total up the amount of sales in order to figure out what my percentage of free merchandise would come to.

“So, how did we do?” I asked Ashley with enthusiasm.

“We did very well. The total came to $3,378,” Ashley said, and I almost fell to the floor.

“Wow. I knew my friends and family were freaks, but not this freaky,” I said happily.

“So you get to order $377 worth of merchandise for free.”

There was nothing better than hearing the word “free” come out of her mouth. That's how I liked my life: receiving things that didn't cost me nothing but some fun and a nice reward in the end.

“You can give me your first item, and we can write up your order,” Ashley said.

I made sure to start with the bullet.

 

I had to admit tonight was a lot of fun. I was glad Phoenix talked me into attending because I told her I wasn't coming at first. I didn't feel like being around a bunch of people, particularly my sisters. I loved each and every one of them, but I couldn't seem to get away from them. We would be together every day if we could, but I didn't. Our once a week dinner get-together was starting to get a bit much for me. I don't know why I was feeling this way, since after the death of Renee we promised each other we would at least be with each other once each week, even if it was to have coffee together.

After ordering my merchandise, I quickly left the party. Phoenix didn't want me to leave, but she didn't push it too much since I did show up. Since Serena rode there with me, she had to leave when I did, and she wasn't ready. She ended up asking Dawn to give her a ride home. Dawn didn't want to, but gave in, telling her she would. I was tired and was ready to get in my bed, the faster the better, so I said my good-byes to everybody and jetted home.

I don't know if I kicked off my shoes first to relieve my feet, or unsnapped my bra to take that restraint off. All I know is I wanted to get into a comfortable state. It didn't matter, because once those items came off, I was free. My Spanx was my next constriction to be removed before taking my shower. My bed was calling me, and I was answering it by saying, “I'll be right there.”

No sooner than I put my legs under the cover and turned the television on, my doorbell rang. It could only be one person, and I wondered why he didn't use the key I gave him.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” were the first words that fell out of my mouth as I looked into the face of my ex-boyfriend, Eric, standing on the other side of my door. I had thought it was my best friend, Sheldon, but I was wrong this night.

With his manhood hanging out, Eric had each hand propped up on the base of the door, with this smirk on this face, trying to lick his lips like LL. He looked down at his growing extension and looked back up at me.

“You are going to get arrested for indecent exposure,” I said, giggling.

“Then you better let me in before I get in trouble.”

I crossed my arms, asking, “What do you want?”

“It's not obvious?” he asked cockily, looking down at his manhood still hanging to the left.

“And what makes you think I want you or your dick?”

He looked down at his pride and joy and said, “Oh, you want this. I bet your thighs are wet with envy now.”

I didn't say anything. I looked down at his manhood, which was beginning to become erect. I didn't get sex often because I didn't believe in sleeping around, but tonight I needed to get my coochie worked. After that sex party showed me all the different things that could be used to enhance my sex life, I was raring to go. And I didn't want to use a vibrator, even though I had just purchased a new one to use on myself tonight. Now I had the real deal and could use a hot, throbbing dick inside me.

I stepped to the side, giving Eric the signal to come in. He walked past me, and I shut the door. When I turned around, Eric was stroking his manhood like he was priming it for me. I didn't feel like doing much talking, so I jumped right on him. I don't know how we managed it, but in a matter of minutes we were in my bedroom, butt-ass naked.

Eric was hitting me from the back like he hadn't had pussy in quite a while. He gripped my hips, pulling my substantial buttocks into his adequate plumpness. I didn't know why I allowed myself to get screwed by this man since he dumped me months ago for being too fat. It wasn't like I had lost much weight. I wasn't skinny enough to be on his arm, yet my pussy was good enough for him to dip his manhood inside me. Damn hypocrite. And yes, I must be a hypocrite too. I didn't have to allow myself to be used like this.

I thought about this after I climaxed, which didn't take long, since Eric knew my body and how to please it. I'd climaxed three times already, while he kept trying to reach his pinnacle. After six months of batteries buzzing between my thighs, I needed to nut from the real thing. But now that I had, I didn't think it was even worth it. I actually pitied myself.

As Eric pounded and grunted, I tried to hold back tears for a minute. He might have thought he was bringing water to my eyes because he was that good, but feeling unworthy was the reason for my sorrow. Where in the hell was my self-esteem right now? As soon as I saw this man on my stoop, I should have slammed the door in his face and told him to never bother me again, but here I was playing booty call and being used yet again by a man who didn't respect me.

I dropped my head into the sheets as I went on an emotional rollercoaster. One minute I was confident and the next I hated myself. I let the tears soak deep into the fabric of my sheets as Eric continued to pound, probably thinking he was doing me a favor.

“You like that, baby?” he asked.

I didn't respond. How could I when I felt the way I did? His pounding increased like he was trying to get a reaction out of me. I pulled my head up from the sheets and frowned a bit, and he took this as me enjoying it.

“Oh, you like it, don't you. I can tell.”

I couldn't take it anymore. I turned, pushing Eric off of me.

“You want it a different way?” he asked. “You want to get on top,” he said, positioning himself on his back like I was going to climb on top of him. Eric was fine as hell and his body was worthy of the ride, but I couldn't bring myself to continue.

“No. I want you to leave,” I told him, pulling the crinkled sheet around my body.

“Leave?” he asked, surprised, as his manhood glistened with my juices.

“Yes, leave,” I said, getting up from the bed and putting on my pink silk robe.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you see this dick? I haven't cum yet,” he replied, pointing to his extension.

“And you won't with me,” I said, tying my robe closed.

“Come on, Vivian.”

“You can beg all you want to, Eric, but I'm not finishing this.”

He climbed from the bed angrily. He snatched his boxers off the floor and attempted to put them on, losing his balance and falling to the floor. I smirked a bit. He didn't find this funny as he got up from the floor.

“I can't believe you. You asked me to come over.”

I frowned as I shook my head in disbelief before replying to his statement. “Don't get it twisted, Eric. You were standing on my stoop. Don't try to make it look like I begged your ass to come over, because I didn't. You were the one who just showed up unannounced,” I said, pulling my long hair back in a ponytail.

“You knew what it was going to be when you saw me standing outside your door,” he argued.

“I did, and I got mine, so we are done.”

Eric picked up his blue jeans and shirt from my maple hardwood floors. Each movement was done with irritation.

“I knew it was a mistake messing with you, but I was doing you a favor,” he said.

“Me!”

“Yes, you. I mean, look at you. Who wants to sleep with somebody who looks like you?” he said rudely, scowling at me.

“You, that's who! How many times have you begged to get all up in this?” I retorted, pointing between my legs. “I know this is good for you to keep coming back for more,” I fired back.

“Please. I didn't have another honey to get with tonight, so I decided to slum with you,” he dissed.

“This coming from the man who is the biggest whore around. You sleeping with sluts was the demise of our relationship, but I'm the one slumming. If I am, it's because I'm dealing with your trifling ass.”

“Your weight was the reason I went out and got other pussy. I got tired of you squishing me when you got on top,” Eric said.

“As hard as you're trying to make this out to be about my weight, I know it's about you being a damn dog. I let you mentally abuse me for months, but now I know better,” I lied. His words did cut me to the core, but I wouldn't let him get the satisfaction of knowing it. I told him, “You miss me.”

“Like hell I do.”

“Then why be mad at all? If I were nothing to you, then you wouldn't be mad. You could leave here and get a nut elsewhere.”

“And I am,” he said, sitting on the side of my bed after searching on his hands and knees for his shoes. He looked up at me.

I knew I touched a nerve. Little did he know he had touched several in me months ago, making me second-guess the person I thought I was; and here he was trying to do it to me again.

“You know what, Eric? This is the last time I submit myself to you. As much as I loved you, having you come in and out of my life isn't worth it, so hurry up, get your shit, and get the hell out my damn house.” I pointed to my bedroom door.

He stood, straightening his jeans. He reached down in his pockets and felt for his keys, but they weren't there. He patted both front and back pockets, and still there were no keys. I pointed at my dresser where they sat. He glared at me before walking over and snatching them off.

“Good luck with your weight,” he snarled.

“And good luck with your blue balls,” I retorted, watching Eric walk out of my life again.

The confidence I tried to maintain while he was there instantly diminished like someone letting air out of a balloon. His words had deflated me yet again.

Yes, I'm what you would call voluptuous, or at least that's what I call myself instead of fat, obese, or just plain huge. Voluptuous sounds so much better, and I see that word as sexy. I'm that, too. I feel that most days, and today was one of them. Skinny skanks might not think so, but that's okay. They ain't supposed to think it, because I don't like holes. I like my poles. They're jealous of me anyway. They wouldn't worry about me if they didn't see me as a threat. I may be five feet five inches, 223 pounds, but I carry it very well. A hundred pounds of that weight is in my breasts, thighs, and behind. My stomach isn't as flat as I would like, but a few sit-ups would help that.

For the most part of my life, I considered myself to be a confident woman. I didn't care what people thought of me. I was skinny, about fifteen years ago, weighing 124 pounds; and no, I'm not carrying baby weight. This is the weight of life's stress, which ended up being diagnosed as depression. Food became my peace, and that peace accumulated onto my body.

It has taken me a long while to accept I have depression. I thought any medication being taken for something mental made you crazy, especially in my family. They drown their issues in food, alcohol, weed, and sex. I have members in my family whose medicine are all four of those things. Yet, when I say I take medication for depression, they look at me like I'm getting ready to pull out a gun and go postal.

Actually, that is a plus for real. The more they think I am crazy, the more they know not to mess with me. Still, I don't want to be the one they think should be admitted into a rubber room. I'm not crazy. Life made me this way, and I have to wonder at what point things changed for me. I used to be my biggest cheerleader. Now, I am all cheered out. I needed to find that spirit to celebrate myself, but after Eric's visit, I would find it more difficult to look at myself as valuable at all.