The Last Black Unicorn(28)
First off, I’d never seen a man cry for me. I’d never seen a man express his love for me like this. Nothing like this had ever happened to me ever before.
I just thought to myself, Well, this is who I’m supposed to be with, obviously. This is who I’m supposed to spend my time with, this man who loves me so much and does so much for me and adores me like this. That’s right. I’m going to fuck him. I’m gonna fuck the shit out of Roscoe tonight.
I didn’t care about nothing else. Fuck that judgmental white lady. I downed my wine, we got another round, and then we went back to my place.
My date movie at the time was The Wiz. If I liked you, and I put on The Wiz, that was a good sign. And if you could sit and watch The Wiz through the Scarecrow part, I’m fucking. If you can sit through Michael Jackson’s scene, that’s it, it’s on.
Well, Roscoe did not sit through The Wiz. That’s because he was acting the whole thing out. HE KNEW ALL THE WORDS!
You know how white people do with The Rocky Horror Picture Show? Just like that.
Roscoe: “Come on, Tiff-a-Knee, come dance wiff me! Ease on down, ease on down da rooooaaaad!”
Oh my God, did he love this movie. It was like I dropped into some musical theater summer camp in my own house.
But you know what? I love that movie, too! Fuck it, I got up and danced and sang The Wiz with him.
By the time it got to the Lena Horne part, the end of the movie, it was time for business. I leaned in and gave him a little kiss on his cheek. He said:
Roscoe: “Ohhh Tiff-a-Knee, youu don’t wanna do dat, don’t do dat, Tiff-a-Knee. You don’t know what’chu gettin’ yursef into.”
I leaned in, gave him another kiss. He got all serious:
Roscoe: “Okay, Tiff-a-Knee, I seer-ee-us. I warned you and I not gunna warn you no more. Don’t do that, okay, you don’t know what you’re doing. I’m seer-ee-us, very seer-ee-us, Tiff-a-Knee.”
He smelled real good. Whatever it was, it was good, and it was kinda getting me horny.
I did not realize it at the time, but thinking back on it, I am pretty sure he was wearing the same cologne that Titus used to wear. He must have actually went and smelled that motherfucker, now that I think about it.
He did smell good, though. Except his breath smelled like corn chips, but that was normal for Roscoe.
“Whatever, Roscoe, you smell all good and stuff,” I said and leaned in again to give him another kiss.
He wasn’t kidding with that warning. Roscoe took that third kiss as his cue, and he straight went to work. He grabbed my face with that strong hand, and he started tonguing me down. Next thing I knew, all my clothes were off, he was stroking my face with his strong hand, still kissing me, while he’s putting on a condom with that little hand.
I was like, Oh shit! This motherfucker’s a professional fucker. Here I was, all proud of myself, thinking I was fixing to be his first. Yeah, I was fixing to blow his mind, but hell no! He’s been fucking all kinds of handicapped bitches or something, nurses or whoever, because ain’t no virgin on Earth have skills like this.
He finally got his T. rex arm to put the condom on, and he moved in. And yes, I know what you’re going to ask:
He had dick for days.
And for real . . . he tore it up.
He straight tore up the pussy. His dick game was off the chain!
He took control and laid me back and went to work, and it felt amazing. I was on my back in missionary, enjoying the hell out of this fuck. My pussy was feeling so good.
And then I opened my eyes.
Oh hell. I’m looking at him, and it’s like—his face is just twisted as fuck. It was so contorted and screwed up, it was horrifying to look at. You know when someone is concentrating, they make funny faces? Yeah, well, it was like a Halloween mask was doing that.
I closed my eyes in fright, but damn, it would start feeling really good down there, and then I would open my eyes again, and be like “Oh, no.” It was like a scary movie, except that my pussy felt great.
The thing that really messed me up was that he was holding himself up with that good arm, and his dead little baby hand was dangling over my face. And you know, it’s Roscoe, so he’s sweating and drooling and shit, and it’s dripping on my forehead.
The sweat and the drool, it was too nasty. I had to do something, but I didn’t want the sex to stop.
Tiffany: “Roscoe, hit this from the back.”
Roscoe: “Ohhhh, youuuu want me to tap dat azz from da back! YOU AIN’T GOTTA AXE ME TWICE!”
He took his strong arm, slid it underneath me, grabbed my opposite hip, and in one motion, flipped me over. I landed right on my hands and knees instantly. I don’t even know how he did it. It was some Cirque du Soleil shit.
He was right in me, holding my waist with that good hand, smacking my ass with that little dead hand, and he was just fucking my pussy up. I could kind of feel him drooling, but I didn’t give a shit. As long as I didn’t have to see his Halloween sex faces, it was cool, because his dick was amazing.
He was saying all the normal things guys say during sex, then all of a sudden, the craziest fucking thing happened.
Roscoe: “Damn girl, you got some good pussy.”
His voice turned normal.
He went from his mush-mouth, long-ass vowel words you could barely understand, to talking like a normal man. And with a deep, sexy-ass Billy Dee Williams voice.