Page 23 of Not About That Life
Ian raised an eyebrow and eyeballs my hair. “You really want me to do that?”
On second thought, hell no. Ian had witnessed in great detail and frustration, everything that takes for me get these coils on and poppin’ every day. That man knows more about co-washing, hair butters, and silk pillowcases than he’d previously wanted (or cared) to know.
It takes me forever to get this 4a hair done in the morning so fuck that shit. “No.”
“Whatever you want, angel, I’m willing to help you with.” Ian reassures me. “I only request that at one point during our experiment, I’m going to experience your last available hole.”
Anal.
Ian’s dick can barely fit into the warm and snug heaven between my thighs and he wants to fuck my ass with that?
WITH THAT?
I just…whew, chile…Ian’s dick is porn star legendary and while I know he’ll be as gentle as possible with me, it doesn’t change the fact he’s sticking a big dick in a space normally reserved for exit.
I might need to call Helen and ask if her if she can let me have some of that Khalifia Kush.
