He has nowhere to be, and is in no hurry to get anywhere.My Man is content to hold me in semi-slumber cooing sweetness to me in the dark gray light of...winter twilight. His hands wander over my blood-warm skin as I float back to oblivion. I image I am in a golden field and he is the God of the harvest. He will cherish and use me as He wants. His fingers press harder into my flesh kneading and grabbing my hips breasts and belly. He rolls me onto my back and urges my hips up toward to him. "Look. “Nigga...I wouldn’t have offered if it was a problem. Like we was talking about. Ain’t no bitch on her way over here right now.”Paris laughed and said, “Why not?!?”I smiled and slid the bottle across the coffee table. We continued drinking and that’s when Paris started.“You know, Bo. Have you ever considered the odds and economics of getting pussy,” he started.“Huh,” I asked.“Like how many chicks you have to ask out to get a yes. How many dates you have to go on in order to get said pussy.”“I-I. More

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