Womanly Ass!
“Lying ass heifer,” scoffed the medium-brown beautician, remembering the “frantic” mother who’d changed purses and forgot to put her billfold in the new one.
The lady promised her daughter’s father would be by before closing to pay the bill.
Just then the cosmetologist’s phone rang with a pre-programmed number.
“Hello,” he answered demurely.
“Hey! It’s Reagan’s dad! I’m on the way. My bad. I got off late.”
“I understand. I’m cleaning up. How long till you get here?”
“I’m around the corner.”
“Exactly how many minutes away are you?”
“Uhhhh…Like twelve I guess.”
“Good deal. Knock on the door.”
“Bet!”
The girly dude went ahead and pulled out the new rhinestone platform heels. He put them on and went back to sweeping and straightening up his salon.
“Hey there,” the hairdresser spoke into the phone.
“I’m pulling in now. Blue Dodge Challenger.”
“Okay! I’ll unlock the door. Come on in.”
“Bet!”
In walked an average height, buff man with bronze skin wearing what appeared not to be a work uniform.
The sissy rolled his eyes.
The man caught it.
“I work at a petrochemical plant. We gotta shower before we go in and before we leave.”
“Oh okay,” giggled the proprietor. “I’m Tommi with an I”
“Nice to meet you,” he extended his hand. “I’m Denzel.”
“Yes you are,” gasped Tommi.
Denzel laughed. “How much I owe you?”
“It’s sixty-five.”
“I’ma tip you since I was late.”
“You ain’t gotta do all that, sweetheart. I know it’s hard out here for Black men and you had to scoop in and do something Jayla should’ve had handled.
“Damn! I ain’t expect that. I appreciate it. Still…Can I do something?”
“You can do whatever you like,” purred Tommi.
“You crazy,” he grinned. “Why you wearing them heels?”
“Oh,” giggled the sissy. “I needed to practice walking in them.”
“Oh for real?”
“Yeah,” Tommi lowered his gaze. “I do drag shows!”
“That’s why you got all the make-up on. You like it?”
“I do! It’s just so much fun!”
“One of my cousins had a party at ******’all be convincing as hell.”
“Thank you, daddy!”
“See! There you go playin’,” the man shook his head.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Tommi stepped closer and grazed the graphic T-shirt covered chest. “Forgive me,” he looked up with apologetic eyes.
“You good! So…uh…sixty-five,” Denzel fumbled with his wallet.
“Yes, sir!”
“Here,” the father of one said, holding out four twenty dollar bills.
“One moment,” Tommi sashayed over to his money bag and extracted change.
‘Shit! That muthafucka got a ass like a woman,’ he thought to himself, taking in the ample and curvaceous rear-end underneath the skin-tight jeggings.
Tommi turned around too quickly. He caught Denzel honed in. “It's a hundred percent real, daddy,” the amateur drag queen cooed.
“There you go playin.” he darted his eyes away.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with looking. Straight men do it all the time.”
“For real? How you know?”
“Cause only straight men wanna fuck me.”
“How you figure?”
“Cause gay men want a manly man. I’m not manly enough for nobody.”
“I ain’t gon’ lie. I thought you was a girl on the phone.”
“Exactly,” Tommi winked, snapping his manicured fingers. “And they be telling me how I’m softer than their girlfriends,”
“Oh shit! You be going after straight men with girlfriends.”
“I don’t go after them. They come after me because their women aren’t putting out.”
“Yeah,” Denzel semi nodded.
“So I hope the ladies are keeping those balls empty. But I bet they're always tripping too much.”
“They do be trippin,” he conferred.
“Well that’s where I come in. I help handle a need. And I don’t tell.”
“You be sleeping with yo’ clients' men?”
Tommi huffed and put a hand on his waist. “Now why would I tell that to anyone.”
“Smart! You takin’ it to the grave.”
“Six feet under, honey,” Tommi pointed to the ground.
“That’s what’s up,” he smiled.
“How about a nightcap since you’re off.”
“What you got?”
“Anything you like at my house bar.”
“Uhhhh,” Denzel wiped his sweaty palms on his black jeans.
“I live in a gated community. Three bedroom place. And I ain’t trying to sexually assault you. Just a drink!”
“I ain’t doin’ shit for real.”
“Cool beans. Follow me when I pull out front. Red Beemer.”
Denzel walked out.
Tommi rushed as fast as he could to lock up and get out the back door. He pulled around and saw the two-door 2010s era vehicle. He braked and waited till he saw the other car’s lights come on.
They drove at a regular pace.
Denzel called Tommi.
“Hello,” came the delicate voice.
“I was thinking’ I might need to go get my weed first.”
“Oh, Denzel, I have weed.”
“Damn! Okay! And what kinda liquor?”
“I got clear. I got brown. I got wine and beer. What do you like?”
“I’ma real **** so I like brown!”
“Yes, sir!”
“We close?”
“Six more minutes or so. I’m gonna go through the gate. Then I’ll buzz you in. Wait for the gate to close before it’ll reopen.”
“Bet!”
Denzel stuck out his bottom lip and gave a couple nods when they turned right into a stone-gated subdivision called ‘Orland Hills’. He waited and then he was given access. He followed along behind the German automobile. His phone buzzed. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to pull to the side and you can park in the garage.”
“Good lookin’ out!”
Tommi scurried to the garage so he could close it quickly.
Denzel hopped out and chuckled, “You wit’ the rich folk.”
“Hardly. Just out the way.”
“Expensive,” he grinned.
“Whatever,” retreated a giggling Tommi.
The man shook his head and walked inside.
Tommi offered the guest a seat and took the drink order. He returned with a whiskey and cola, a jade-colored smoking bowl, and a little pack of Mary Jane. “You can go ahead and light up while I change real quick, if that’s alright,” pondered the host.
“Bet,” Denzel held up the red plastic cup as acknowledgement.
“Be right back,” the homeowner rushed down the hall.
Tommi returned.
“Yo’ chill clothes is some short shorts and a li’l T-shirt in some stripper heels,” he looked at the hairdresser from the side and pursed his lips.
“Yes and no,” blushed the beautician.
“See,” he tilted his head.
“Well…I normally wear all this but not the heels.”
“So why you keep ‘em on?”
“I told you I have to practice walking…”
“Oh yeah,” he leaned back.
“I'll be right back.”
“No doubt.”
Tommi reappeared with his own red cup.
“What you drinking?”
“Mos**to,” he batted his fake lash-covered brown eyes.
“Girly shit,” he raised his beverage.
“Just like I told you,” replied Tommi sitting on the sofa with a comfortable space between them. “I forgot to give you the remote so you can watch what you want. I’m sorry, sir.”
“You good!”
“Thank you!”
“You got E-S-P-N?”
“Yes, sir! Channel two oh six.”
“You even know the channel by heart,” he chortled, coughing from the weed.
“That’s part of my job. Catering to straight men.”
“What you mean?”
“Well,” began the soft one, inching closer. “I’m going to have what you need AND give you what you need. Whether it’s dinner after work OR a quick blowjob. Enough about that though. Tell me about your day.”
“Oh shit,” Denzel shifted his groin. “Uhhhh! Damn it was long and boring.”
“Oh I’m sorry, daddy.”
“It’s all good. I just ain’t ever get asked about MY day.”
“I know and it’s a crime against humanity.”
“Fuck! You a real one!”
“Mind if I get a li’l smoke.
“Go right ahead, it's yo’ shit.”
“We’re sharing right now…”
They each took a couple of good inhales.
Denzel looked over at Tommi. Dead in the eyes. “I always imagined being catered to by a li’l French maid.”
“I can put one on now.”
“You lyin’!”
“Gimme eight minutes?”
“You do got it all,” he exhaled.
“B-R-B,” the femboy darted off.
‘That’s a womanly ass,’ Denzel used his inner voice. ‘This bitch finna come out here in a black-and-white maid outfit.
Tommi made it to his walk-in closet and went for the rack filled with costumes. He kept the maid ones at the front. He had three to choose from. The traditional French maid one. A similar version, but with the theme being red-and-black. And finally, a pink-and-black latex one that rode up over his booty when he walked around.
“Shit fuck,” he sat forward, saying so audibly without meaning to do so.
“You like,” checked Tommi, switching back.
“Hell yeah! I need another drink.”
“Yes, sir!”
The servant jumped to it, taking the cup and rushing off. He came back with Denzel’s drink, but also the mixer and the bottle on a bamboo tray.
“You too much,” chuckled the man.
“What,” Tommi begged him to share in a whisper, grinning.
“You know what you be doin’.”
“And what’s that,” Tommi took a sip, crossing his legs super near Denzel’s.
“Fixing drinks. Asking about they day and shit. Giving e’erthing they want. Knowing it be hard for Black men. And lettin’ ‘em know you get that. Plus you smell good and yo’ skin look so soft. Fuck! Any straight **** gon’ wanna fuck you!”
“Awww,” Tommi took Denzel’s hand and led it to his own bare thigh.
Denzel’s fingers sunk in. “Soft as shit. Gah-dayum! This shit crazy!”
“Really?
“You said you was taking it six feet under,” he huffed. “You a real one,” he resolved aloud.
“Yay,” squealed the maid.
Denzel reasoned, tapping his forehead, “You know what you be doin’,”
“I try,” snickered Tommi, touching the man.
“What that mouth do?”
Tommi went about unbuckling the Louis Vuitton belt and pulling down the pants and graphic design boxer briefs. And out pops an engorged member staring back. “Ooh wee!”
“It ain’t that big,” laughed Denzel.
“That’s at least eight inches of good width! That’s a big ol’ dick, ****!”
“Oh fuck,” he jumped, feeling the wet warmth of the tongue on the head of his dick. “That’s it! Make it sloppy!”
Tommi pulled off the fuck stick and purred. “Make it sloppy, what?”
“I don’t know…”
“Say, ‘Make is sloppy, gay boi,’.”
“Uhhh. Make it sloppy, gay boi,” he uttered
Tommi hopped back on that jumping dick!
The bitch sucked for a while until Denzel succumbed to the pleasure and shot a baby in the hairdresser’s mouth.
“I’m still hard,” Denzel wondered gawking at his manhood.
“I know,” Tommi went back to sucking.
“Ugghhhh. I wanna feel that womanly ass,” he roared. “Bend over!”
“Yes, sir!”
Denzel was mesmerized by the motion of that cocoa-complexioned donkey butt. Soft like a pillow. He stood and moved behind his host quickly. He spat on the brown hole and heaved himself right up to the hilt.
“Ooh wee, daddy! Fuck me!”
“Hell yeah,” he hammered in a moderate tempo.
“Fuck this gay boy ass!”
“Oh you like to be called gay! You gay boy!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Gay boy seducing straight ****s!”
“I know, Straight ****! Fuck my gay booty,” cried Tommi.
Denzel pushed in as deep as possible and groaned. ”Womanly Ass,” he smiled.
“I got a womanly ass???”
“Fasho! Bounce that thang guhl! Bounce that thang!”
“Yes, Straight ****,” Tommi bounced those bounteous booty-riffic dukes up and down that shaft.
“You got me out here fuckin’ yo’ gay ass with my straight dick in yo’ gay ass! I can’t believe this shit,” he strained.
“Believe it, Daddy!”
“Arrrrrghhhhhhhhh,” he huffed, collapsing on top of Tommi.
The lady promised her daughter’s father would be by before closing to pay the bill.
Just then the cosmetologist’s phone rang with a pre-programmed number.
“Hello,” he answered demurely.
“Hey! It’s Reagan’s dad! I’m on the way. My bad. I got off late.”
“I understand. I’m cleaning up. How long till you get here?”
“I’m around the corner.”
“Exactly how many minutes away are you?”
“Uhhhh…Like twelve I guess.”
“Good deal. Knock on the door.”
“Bet!”
The girly dude went ahead and pulled out the new rhinestone platform heels. He put them on and went back to sweeping and straightening up his salon.
“Hey there,” the hairdresser spoke into the phone.
“I’m pulling in now. Blue Dodge Challenger.”
“Okay! I’ll unlock the door. Come on in.”
“Bet!”
In walked an average height, buff man with bronze skin wearing what appeared not to be a work uniform.
The sissy rolled his eyes.
The man caught it.
“I work at a petrochemical plant. We gotta shower before we go in and before we leave.”
“Oh okay,” giggled the proprietor. “I’m Tommi with an I”
“Nice to meet you,” he extended his hand. “I’m Denzel.”
“Yes you are,” gasped Tommi.
Denzel laughed. “How much I owe you?”
“It’s sixty-five.”
“I’ma tip you since I was late.”
“You ain’t gotta do all that, sweetheart. I know it’s hard out here for Black men and you had to scoop in and do something Jayla should’ve had handled.
“Damn! I ain’t expect that. I appreciate it. Still…Can I do something?”
“You can do whatever you like,” purred Tommi.
“You crazy,” he grinned. “Why you wearing them heels?”
“Oh,” giggled the sissy. “I needed to practice walking in them.”
“Oh for real?”
“Yeah,” Tommi lowered his gaze. “I do drag shows!”
“That’s why you got all the make-up on. You like it?”
“I do! It’s just so much fun!”
“One of my cousins had a party at ******’all be convincing as hell.”
“Thank you, daddy!”
“See! There you go playin’,” the man shook his head.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Tommi stepped closer and grazed the graphic T-shirt covered chest. “Forgive me,” he looked up with apologetic eyes.
“You good! So…uh…sixty-five,” Denzel fumbled with his wallet.
“Yes, sir!”
“Here,” the father of one said, holding out four twenty dollar bills.
“One moment,” Tommi sashayed over to his money bag and extracted change.
‘Shit! That muthafucka got a ass like a woman,’ he thought to himself, taking in the ample and curvaceous rear-end underneath the skin-tight jeggings.
Tommi turned around too quickly. He caught Denzel honed in. “It's a hundred percent real, daddy,” the amateur drag queen cooed.
“There you go playin.” he darted his eyes away.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with looking. Straight men do it all the time.”
“For real? How you know?”
“Cause only straight men wanna fuck me.”
“How you figure?”
“Cause gay men want a manly man. I’m not manly enough for nobody.”
“I ain’t gon’ lie. I thought you was a girl on the phone.”
“Exactly,” Tommi winked, snapping his manicured fingers. “And they be telling me how I’m softer than their girlfriends,”
“Oh shit! You be going after straight men with girlfriends.”
“I don’t go after them. They come after me because their women aren’t putting out.”
“Yeah,” Denzel semi nodded.
“So I hope the ladies are keeping those balls empty. But I bet they're always tripping too much.”
“They do be trippin,” he conferred.
“Well that’s where I come in. I help handle a need. And I don’t tell.”
“You be sleeping with yo’ clients' men?”
Tommi huffed and put a hand on his waist. “Now why would I tell that to anyone.”
“Smart! You takin’ it to the grave.”
“Six feet under, honey,” Tommi pointed to the ground.
“That’s what’s up,” he smiled.
“How about a nightcap since you’re off.”
“What you got?”
“Anything you like at my house bar.”
“Uhhhh,” Denzel wiped his sweaty palms on his black jeans.
“I live in a gated community. Three bedroom place. And I ain’t trying to sexually assault you. Just a drink!”
“I ain’t doin’ shit for real.”
“Cool beans. Follow me when I pull out front. Red Beemer.”
Denzel walked out.
Tommi rushed as fast as he could to lock up and get out the back door. He pulled around and saw the two-door 2010s era vehicle. He braked and waited till he saw the other car’s lights come on.
They drove at a regular pace.
Denzel called Tommi.
“Hello,” came the delicate voice.
“I was thinking’ I might need to go get my weed first.”
“Oh, Denzel, I have weed.”
“Damn! Okay! And what kinda liquor?”
“I got clear. I got brown. I got wine and beer. What do you like?”
“I’ma real **** so I like brown!”
“Yes, sir!”
“We close?”
“Six more minutes or so. I’m gonna go through the gate. Then I’ll buzz you in. Wait for the gate to close before it’ll reopen.”
“Bet!”
Denzel stuck out his bottom lip and gave a couple nods when they turned right into a stone-gated subdivision called ‘Orland Hills’. He waited and then he was given access. He followed along behind the German automobile. His phone buzzed. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to pull to the side and you can park in the garage.”
“Good lookin’ out!”
Tommi scurried to the garage so he could close it quickly.
Denzel hopped out and chuckled, “You wit’ the rich folk.”
“Hardly. Just out the way.”
“Expensive,” he grinned.
“Whatever,” retreated a giggling Tommi.
The man shook his head and walked inside.
Tommi offered the guest a seat and took the drink order. He returned with a whiskey and cola, a jade-colored smoking bowl, and a little pack of Mary Jane. “You can go ahead and light up while I change real quick, if that’s alright,” pondered the host.
“Bet,” Denzel held up the red plastic cup as acknowledgement.
“Be right back,” the homeowner rushed down the hall.
Tommi returned.
“Yo’ chill clothes is some short shorts and a li’l T-shirt in some stripper heels,” he looked at the hairdresser from the side and pursed his lips.
“Yes and no,” blushed the beautician.
“See,” he tilted his head.
“Well…I normally wear all this but not the heels.”
“So why you keep ‘em on?”
“I told you I have to practice walking…”
“Oh yeah,” he leaned back.
“I'll be right back.”
“No doubt.”
Tommi reappeared with his own red cup.
“What you drinking?”
“Mos**to,” he batted his fake lash-covered brown eyes.
“Girly shit,” he raised his beverage.
“Just like I told you,” replied Tommi sitting on the sofa with a comfortable space between them. “I forgot to give you the remote so you can watch what you want. I’m sorry, sir.”
“You good!”
“Thank you!”
“You got E-S-P-N?”
“Yes, sir! Channel two oh six.”
“You even know the channel by heart,” he chortled, coughing from the weed.
“That’s part of my job. Catering to straight men.”
“What you mean?”
“Well,” began the soft one, inching closer. “I’m going to have what you need AND give you what you need. Whether it’s dinner after work OR a quick blowjob. Enough about that though. Tell me about your day.”
“Oh shit,” Denzel shifted his groin. “Uhhhh! Damn it was long and boring.”
“Oh I’m sorry, daddy.”
“It’s all good. I just ain’t ever get asked about MY day.”
“I know and it’s a crime against humanity.”
“Fuck! You a real one!”
“Mind if I get a li’l smoke.
“Go right ahead, it's yo’ shit.”
“We’re sharing right now…”
They each took a couple of good inhales.
Denzel looked over at Tommi. Dead in the eyes. “I always imagined being catered to by a li’l French maid.”
“I can put one on now.”
“You lyin’!”
“Gimme eight minutes?”
“You do got it all,” he exhaled.
“B-R-B,” the femboy darted off.
‘That’s a womanly ass,’ Denzel used his inner voice. ‘This bitch finna come out here in a black-and-white maid outfit.
Tommi made it to his walk-in closet and went for the rack filled with costumes. He kept the maid ones at the front. He had three to choose from. The traditional French maid one. A similar version, but with the theme being red-and-black. And finally, a pink-and-black latex one that rode up over his booty when he walked around.
“Shit fuck,” he sat forward, saying so audibly without meaning to do so.
“You like,” checked Tommi, switching back.
“Hell yeah! I need another drink.”
“Yes, sir!”
The servant jumped to it, taking the cup and rushing off. He came back with Denzel’s drink, but also the mixer and the bottle on a bamboo tray.
“You too much,” chuckled the man.
“What,” Tommi begged him to share in a whisper, grinning.
“You know what you be doin’.”
“And what’s that,” Tommi took a sip, crossing his legs super near Denzel’s.
“Fixing drinks. Asking about they day and shit. Giving e’erthing they want. Knowing it be hard for Black men. And lettin’ ‘em know you get that. Plus you smell good and yo’ skin look so soft. Fuck! Any straight **** gon’ wanna fuck you!”
“Awww,” Tommi took Denzel’s hand and led it to his own bare thigh.
Denzel’s fingers sunk in. “Soft as shit. Gah-dayum! This shit crazy!”
“Really?
“You said you was taking it six feet under,” he huffed. “You a real one,” he resolved aloud.
“Yay,” squealed the maid.
Denzel reasoned, tapping his forehead, “You know what you be doin’,”
“I try,” snickered Tommi, touching the man.
“What that mouth do?”
Tommi went about unbuckling the Louis Vuitton belt and pulling down the pants and graphic design boxer briefs. And out pops an engorged member staring back. “Ooh wee!”
“It ain’t that big,” laughed Denzel.
“That’s at least eight inches of good width! That’s a big ol’ dick, ****!”
“Oh fuck,” he jumped, feeling the wet warmth of the tongue on the head of his dick. “That’s it! Make it sloppy!”
Tommi pulled off the fuck stick and purred. “Make it sloppy, what?”
“I don’t know…”
“Say, ‘Make is sloppy, gay boi,’.”
“Uhhh. Make it sloppy, gay boi,” he uttered
Tommi hopped back on that jumping dick!
The bitch sucked for a while until Denzel succumbed to the pleasure and shot a baby in the hairdresser’s mouth.
“I’m still hard,” Denzel wondered gawking at his manhood.
“I know,” Tommi went back to sucking.
“Ugghhhh. I wanna feel that womanly ass,” he roared. “Bend over!”
“Yes, sir!”
Denzel was mesmerized by the motion of that cocoa-complexioned donkey butt. Soft like a pillow. He stood and moved behind his host quickly. He spat on the brown hole and heaved himself right up to the hilt.
“Ooh wee, daddy! Fuck me!”
“Hell yeah,” he hammered in a moderate tempo.
“Fuck this gay boy ass!”
“Oh you like to be called gay! You gay boy!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Gay boy seducing straight ****s!”
“I know, Straight ****! Fuck my gay booty,” cried Tommi.
Denzel pushed in as deep as possible and groaned. ”Womanly Ass,” he smiled.
“I got a womanly ass???”
“Fasho! Bounce that thang guhl! Bounce that thang!”
“Yes, Straight ****,” Tommi bounced those bounteous booty-riffic dukes up and down that shaft.
“You got me out here fuckin’ yo’ gay ass with my straight dick in yo’ gay ass! I can’t believe this shit,” he strained.
“Believe it, Daddy!”
“Arrrrrghhhhhhhhh,” he huffed, collapsing on top of Tommi.
1 year ago
