I started to gently kiss Bryson's nice, tight hole while he sat on the toilet with his hat angled on his head. He was smiling, anticipating my touch. My booty hole felt peaceful.

He smelled so good. Why was I shuddering, anticipating his orgasm? Why did I feed off the way his body arched and the serene look that befell his eyes? Why did he look deep into my eyes as if seeing my soul? He f***ked me so good I still felt his d***k in me, moving through me. becoming. One. Then two separate souls when he came.

Oh god I loved him. The instant my tongue touched his tight chocolate hole he squirmed from the pleasure, about to pass out. His eyes fluttered to the top of his head as my tongue surged into foreign lands because no one had ever eaten him out and that made this all the more beautiful. My heart hammering, I loved how I made him feel.

Absent-mindedly, he threw his legs back and when I started to tongue fu*k him he pushed me back and said, "Don't penetrate me.

I hate that sh*t. I'ma Top niggah. Suck my hole but if you even think about finger banging me or tongue lashing me I'ma f***k you up, Shawty. Ain't no secret bottom s***t happening with me."

Why was I smiling?
About a week had gone by. Bryson and I had been chilling for the most part, f***king all over town. In accordance with all the booty popping, Bryson has been getting to know me, which was weird. The average thug wanted your money, car and supply of weed.

But not Bryson.

He sold his own weed and had his own car.

This was refreshing.

I told him everything about me, my deepest fears and my soul. He listened effectively. He showed me respect without judgment. He respected the sanctity of my past and who I been with. He really wanted to know why my past relationships didn't work.

I told him everything. Even the time I cheated on one of my dudes because I found out he went behind my back and ate his ex's booty hole at a party we were at because old feelings surged and I caught them. I just never said anything and I never told him I saw them. I just gave his brother the best ass of his life and then bought some popcorn and a six pack of beer and called it a Blockbuster nigh.

I was starting to get addicted to him, yet when he asked me what was his favorite color I didn't have a clue. I was stuck. He looked me in the face while he drove his '79 Impala. Turning back to the road, he asked me again.

"Shawty, what's my favorite color?"

"Um..."

"Um is not a color," he said, lighting a black and mild. The sky was getting dark and the sky burst into purple and pinks as the sun faded. I closed my eyes.

He pat my leg and fondly squeezed, blowing smoke at me. "How big is my d***k?"

"Ten inches, three inches in diameter."

"What's my favorite position?"

"Me on my back with my legs pushed back while you're pounding me. You love mirrors. Watching yourself."

He wasn't smiling. "How do I like my d***k sucked?"

"Long, slow and deep. You hate the fast stuff."

OK. Where was he going with this? I hated being questioned. In fact I felt like he was my parent and not my dude and I resented that s***t. I had my own problems. So he could just shut up, f***k me and leave it at that even though in my heart I wanted so much more with him. A home. Commitment. But it was too early for that.

"Do I kiss when I f***k?"

"Yes."

He flicked ashes in the ash tray, turning on Pac at a low volume. He was thinking, wrinkled forming on his forehead. "What's my favorite entertainer?"

"I don't know."

"What goals do I have in life?"

He was passing the Moody Drive Exit, 9 A. Or was it Allapattah, 112th Street? Hmm. Who cared.

"Baby."

"You're favorite color is Gray. Your mom used to wear a gray dress every Easter that reminded you of happiness. Your favorite singer is Patti Labelle. Somewhere Over the rainbow and You are my friend."

My mouth hung open. An attentive thug? Stop it I say!

He slowed down, as we approached a minor traffic accident. My heart was racing. I had a good dude.

He came to a complete stop and put the car in "park." He leaned over and gave me some tongue, rubbing my d***k, getting me hot. "Why do you know my di*k..." He gave me some more tongue. "More than you know me?"

I was breathless. Yes. Getting ready to get his pus*y.

He said, "Get out of my car."

"WHAT?"

He was like a complete stranger. Was he a psycho? "GET THE FU*K OUT MY FUCKING CAR!"