Mystery Meat by Keta Kendric

 

Chapter One

Camina

After twelve hours of turning wrenches and rebuilding a car’s engine, I ignored my body’s demand for sleep and forced it to perform one last task. The evening traffic on Houston’s Loop 610 had no mercy during my race home for a quick shower and clothing change.

As the owner and head mechanic in my auto shop, I worked insane but rewarding hours. I had served six proud years in the military with a MOS (military occupational specialty) of wheeled-vehicle mechanic. Once I completed my service, I invested my savings in my shop and worked my ass off to make it a success.

Meeting my cousin, Kenzie, for a last-minute dinner invitation was not how I had planned to spend my mid-week evening. However, I was determined to make a valid effort to establish a social life outside of work.

When I arrived at the restaurant and was escorted to our table, my mood took a nosedive when the dinner invitation was for a party of four. My cousin had ambushed me again, shoving another blind date down my throat. Her new husband, David, sat next to her with a grin on his face, aware of the set up.

Mindful not to complain, I reminded myself that Kenzie was looking out for me. My blind date, however, was another story. The 1970s wanted Marvin back. He was thirty-six, a few years older than me, but he dressed like he was fifty.

Case in point; the thigh-clenching, shit-brown bell-bottoms he wore that I knew were hiding platform shoes. To top off the throwback look was the low cut, big collared, long sleeve striped and yellow silk shirt.

When had I become the person that was reduced to taking date handouts? My loser status had sunk so low that I was preparing to take my seat in rock bottom, a place lower than hell.

***

Fast-forward two hours, and I was back at my house, angry at myself for the decisions I had made tonight. “How could I have been so fucking stupid to bring this man back to my house?” Was I desperate? Had I allowed a despairing level of self-pity to flow into my system? A glutton for punishment, this had turned out to be one of the most disappointing hump-days of my life.

My date’s voice, my current view of him, and even his erratic movements began to fade into the background as I zoned out and concentrated on my weekend plans. I needed to decide what I wanted to prepare for my family’s potluck gathering. Although busy trudging through our hectic lives, we managed to do a good job of coming together once or twice a month to break bread together.

Maybe I could make a few desserts for the upcoming event, and I also needed to check my supplies and pull together my weekly grocery list. I allowed my thoughts to rage on because they were more entertaining than the efforts my date was making to keep my attention.

A series of rough jerks were what prompted me to break out of my mind and pay attention to the current reality of my uneventful hump-day. The hard pumps that Marlin was delivering to my body had disturbed my thoughts and added weight to the all-time low I had reached. Or was his name Morgan? Anyway, he was on top of me, had been for a while now, rutting as he called it, shoving into me with hard grunts that left every vein in his sweat-slicked body protruding.

You knew my sex life was shit when sex with my B.O.B, battery-operated boyfriend, was better than with the last three men who had crawled between my legs and called themselves rocking my world. The truth of the matter was that my world hadn’t even been tilted.

“Tell me how good it feels, baby,” Marcus demanded.

Good enough for me to be thinking about a grocery list.

“So, so, good,” I forced out, lying my ass off so he would hurry the fuck up and get off me. I’d promised myself that I would be more accommodating when dealing with dates because I’d shoved the last two men off in the middle of the act and told them in not so nice words, “Get your lazy dick-stroking, don’t know how to fuck if I gave you a class, ass off of me.”

I had followed up my commentary by shoving them out of the door while they cursed me out and attempted to get dressed. I’d even tried to shove one man out of his own house before realizing that I was the one that needed to be leaving. So, here I was, letting that fourth glass of wine I’d consumed do its job.

“You like this dick, don’t you?” he asked, huffing and puffing like what he was doing was setting my world on fire when he hadn’t even ignited a spark. His question had broken into my chain of thoughts, right when I was deciding on pound cake or sock-it-to-me cake for my upcoming family event.

Shut the fuck up before I call AAA, you broken-down-dick-bastard, was my real response.

“Um hum,” I groaned instead, biting into the curse words sitting at the tip of my tongue.

What happened to the days when men took command of their dicks and sent it into the pussy like a soldier who wasn’t coming out until he sought and destroyed every hot spot? It was a fucking shame what sex amounted to for me now. The shit was depressing.

Lord help him,I mumbled to myself, shaking my head in growing frustration. He was thrusting at my pussy with such aggression, you’d think I had snatched his girlfriend’s engagement ring and announced that I was bringing it to his wife. I didn’t mind it fast and hard, but the least he could do was make sure I was enjoying the sex too.

“Your dick is so big and long—” Fuck, I couldn’t remember his name. “It’s touching the back.” The lie paid off because he started to roar into my ear, his hot breath blowing like a blow dryer set on high.

Thank you, Jesus!I rolled my eyes as the fuck-deficient asshole was nearing the end of his useless pounding. He had missed every erogenous zone, chilled my hot spots into ice cubes, and made my arousal hormones nauseous.

Never again. The son of a bitch was getting his happy ending, and I was lying there talking myself out of beating him about the head with one of my dildos.

“Girl, you got some good pussy,” he yelled out, trembling on top of me while I swiped a drop of his sweat from my cheek. He wasn’t even going to check to see if I was going to come.

This was what I got for taking my cousin’s advice about broadening my horizons and going out on blind dates and shit. Now, I was lying here with a messy pussy that was beaten all to hell for no reason, and my poor kitty was still hungry. Next time I saw Kenzie, I was cursing her the fuck out.

The way this man had teased me at dinner about what he could do in bed had tempted me, talking about his nickname was the Candy Licker. If expanding my horizons led me to this kind of fucked up fuck, I was taking my chances on my own.