How a bad bitches "ugly" homegirl tried to cockblock me led to me fuckin' both they asses and ending a 20-Year friendship. [MF]

Aight, so boom.

This shit ain't even 'bout braggin. I need y'all to understand that off top. This ain't one of them "look what I pulled" stories. Nah. This the kind of story you tell sittin in the garage with your niggas after midnight, blunt almost dead, drink sweatin on the table, and you tryna explain how one night changed the whole trajectory of three people's lives.

Including yours.

I was 27. Full stride in my prime. Sowing wild oats and fully smelling myself. Dreads freshly r etwisted, body still holdin onto the athlete shape I had from back in the good old college days, but with just enough wear and tear to show a nigga been through some shit. I had that mix of confidence and exhaustion you only get from livin a lil dirty and a lil too smart. I was runnin my own hustle, low-key doin alright. And most nights, when I wasn't workin, I treated pullin at the club like a strategy game.

Like chess? Nah. Like Go(baduk) . Infinite moves. Layers on layers. It was never just "who bad?" It was "what's the energy between her and her homegirls? Who's the weak link? Who's the protector? Who's secretly jealous?" That night, I spotted 'em instantly.

They was standin over by the wall near the fan--i would later find out their names were Daisy and Mary Bell.

Let's talk Daisy first.

That girl was dangerous. I mean 10/10 in every traditional way--body like a Coke bottle, lips like sin, lashes like butterfly wings. Light brown skin with that faint shimmer to it like she moisturize with unicorn tears and black girl magic. She was wearin this tight-ass forest green dress that hugged every curve and them heels that made her legs go on for days. You could tell she was used to attention.

Then there was Mary Bell.

Now Mary Bell wasn't ugly--not to me. But you could tell she was the afterthought in every duo pic. Her face had a lil struggle in it. Rounder, more plain, dark skin that she clearly didn't know how to highlight right, but it had potential. Her braids were cute but old. Edges fightin for their life. She had a thick-ass body too, but she dressed like she was tryna hide it. Oversized shirt over a tight skirt. No confidence in the walk. The kind of chick who's been compared to her prettier best friend for so long she started leanin into the shadow.

That was the dynamic. You could feel it from across the room. Daisy needed Mary Bell around to shine brighter. Mary Bell stayed close to Daisy 'cause proximity to beauty still feel like power, even when it ain't yours.

That's when I slid in.

I ain't go straight for Daisy. That's rookie shit. You don't chase the star. You dismantle the orbit first. I walked up with a drink in each hand--something smooth, cheap, easy to sip. Handed 'em both out with a smile like I knew I belonged there.

Mary Bell looked at me like I was a roach on her kitchen floor.

Daisy grinned wide as hell.

"Who said we was thirsty?" Mary Bell snapped. It was the response of a stray dog; biting the hand before it can strike first.

Growing up as the fat kid myself understood that bibilically. It's a reflex to lash out because of the last person who hit you whether verbally or otherwise.

"I ain't say y'all was," I said cool, leanin in just a lil. "I said I got good taste. That's all."

Daisy laughed, and just like that, Mary Bell lost her power.

But I ain't take the bait. Maybe it was hubris.

Maybe it was the drink and blunt I had earlier.

Whatever it was I used it as motivation to really see how far I could take this.

I leaned my body toward Mary Bell, asked her name first, gave her my full attention. I know her type. She's the shield. She cockblock by default--not 'cause she mean, but 'cause she tired. Tired of bein overlooked. Tired of men usin her to get to her bestie. So I flipped it. Gave her what she always craved: attention without pity.

"You from around here?" I asked, sippin my drink, eyes steady on hers.

She blinked like she ain't expect that question. "Yeah... off Langston."

"Ain't that the street with the gas station that always got them nasty-ass wings?" I said.

She laughed. For real. Like belly-deep. And in that moment, I knew I had her.

Daisy was seethin.

And that's when the real game started.

We spent the next hour posted by the bar, talkin, drinkin, dancin. I kept it balanced. Flirted with Mary Bell low-key, kept Daisy involved just enough to stay curious. I danced with both of 'em, but made sure Mary Bell was always feelin like the one gettin picked.

Basically the way I played it, I had them both playing against each other for my atcracked

The more I poured into Mary Bell, the more Daisy cracked and vice versa.

She started gettin more touchy, leanin her body into mine, laughin harder than the joke called for, askin dumb shit like, "You got a girl?"

"Not tonight," I told her, lockin eyes just long enough to plant a seed.

But it was Mary Bell who took the bait first. She leaned in close around midnight, the bass from the speaker rattlin through the air, her voice barely a whisper:

"You tryin to dip outta here or what?"

When she saw I was considering, Daisy stormed out.

Shit. I thought to myself.

Aloud I told Mary bell say less.

I ain't drive far. Just a lil spot around the corner, one of them ratchet motels with mirrors on the ceiling and towels that smell like hot dogs. I didn't give a fuck. That night wasn't 'bout luxury. I would have took her home, but She expressed in no uncertain terms. She couldn't wait.

In contrast to that In the room Mary Bell was shy at first, sittin on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, eyes bouncin all over the room. I sat next to her, let the silence build. My hand found her thigh slow, patient.

"You good?" I asked, voice low.

She nodded, chewin her bottom lip. "I don't usually do this."

I kissed her before she could finish that sentence.

Soft at first. Let her adjust. Then deeper. I sucked on her tongue like I was tryna taste every bad decision she ever made.

She moaned.

Her hands found my chest. Mine slid up under her shirt. Skin soft as fuck. Breasts heavy, natural, nipples already hard. I kissed down her neck, dragged my tongue along her collarbone while my fingers played with them nubs.

"You ever get your pussy ate in a way that made you forget your name?" I whispered.

She gasped.

I dropped to my knees, pulled her skirt up, panties down. That pussy was fat. Lips dark and swollen, glistening already. I licked slow, flat tongue from hole to clit, then circled it with the tip until she started tremblin.

"Fuck... oh my God..." she whispered, legs twitchin, hands grippin my locs.

I buried my tongue deeper. Flicked. Sucked. Moaned into her till she damn near folded.

She came. Hard. But quiet. The kind of cum that leave you dizzy.

And I didn't stop.

I stood, unzipped, dick heavy and swingin. Slapped it against her thigh, then rubbed the tip between her lips, not in, just teasin.

"You want this?"

"Yes."

"Say it again."

"I want it."

"Nah. Say it like you mean it."

"I want your dick," she hissed. "Please..."

I slid in halfway. Thick stretch. She gasped and clawed at my arms.

I didn't go deep yet. I just kept grindin, lettin her adjust, lettin the friction tease us both. Her walls gripped me like she ain't had dick in years.

I leaned down, kissed her again, and whispered, "Don't fall in love."

It was cocky. I meant it as a tease, but in hindsight, it could have come back cruel, especially since I know the feeling of never being chosen. If I could ever apologize to her, I would apologize to her for that, but I'd like to think that the way I made her feel that night made up for my momentary lapse in judgment.

She laughed, breathless. "Too late."

I started strokin. Deep, slow, deliberate strokes that made her arch and whimper. My hands pinned her wrists above her head. My lips kissed her neck, then bit it.

"You feel how wet you got for me?"

"Mmhm..."

"You ever had it like this before?"

She shook her head. "Never."

I flipped her over. Ass up, face buried in the sheets. That ass jiggled like a spiritual event. I gripped her hips, slid in again, deeper this time. That clap echoed through the room like a drumline.

And I asked her, point blank period, do you like that I'm here fucking you and not her? I didn't need to say Daisy's name, Mary Bill knew exactly who I was talking about. And I swear, hand on the Bible, when I mentioned her, her pussy got tighter, if possible. It's like just the mention of her reminded Mary Bell that usually it will be Daisy in this position, getting this dick, getting fucked with an inch of her life.

For some reason I just started saying some wild shit I told her to fuck me back like she's watching I told her to take all her frustration on this dick I told her to imagine every single time she's felt less than every fucking time she felt like Daisy was using her to make herself look better and take it all out on this dick this position, getting this dick, getting fucked withijn an inch of her life.

I fucked her till the walls fogged up, till sweat dripped down my back, till her legs gave out. I didn't nut. Didn't even get close. I pulled out and let her collapse.

I told her to put Her head off the side of the bed, and I told her to masturbate while I watched, and I stroked my dick. It was a great view. She had some really fat tits that bounced up and down and actually moved her hand vigorously in circles on her clit. I was stroking my dick, and every once in a while, I would take it down and put it deep inside her throat and fuck her face over and over and over again. It was such a great feeling. Truly, at this point, she was just a cum dumpster, a place for me to put all my frustrations. Maybe it was cruel, but I think I might have bruised the back of her throat. I couldnt hold back. I held her down and just kept going until I came deep down her throat, and to her credit, she swallowed it all.

It was a good feeling,

I laid next to her, arm behind my head, breath slow.

"You good?" I asked.

She just nodded, eyes glazed over.

I dropped her off back at her crib 'round 2:30am. She kissed me goodbye like a promise.

Two days later, Daisy hit my DMs.

It started with a DM.

Two days after I dropped Mary Bell off with her thighs still tremblin, I got that lil notification. Daisy. One simple ass message.

“So you fuckin fat bitches now?”

No "hey." No setup. Just a bullet.

I stared at the screen for a sec, leaned back, let that shit marinate. There it was. That old ugly truth peekin out from behind lip gloss and lashes. Insecurity. Rage. Jealousy. That message wasn't just about Mary Bell. That message was about power. The fact that for once, her bestie got picked first. For once, she wasn't the star.

I waited.

Left her on read for twenty whole minutes. I knew what that silence would do to her. I knew she'd sit there stew in it, hatin herself for sendin it, hatin me for not answerin, hatin Mary Bell for winning.

Then I hit her back.

“Damn, that what we on? Thought you looked too good to be actin this ugly.”

She replied instantly.

“You don't know shit. That bitch been ridin my coattails since kindergarten. I gave her a glow-up just by standin next to her. You think she didn't fuck you just to prove somethin to me?”

That's when I knew.

She was spiralin. And I was gon let her fall straight into me.

“Come say that to my face then.”

She pulled up that night.

Didn't even knock. Just walked in like her pride wouldn't let her hesitate. Trench coat. Heels. Nothin underneath. She smelled like drama and vanilla body oil. Hair laid to perfection. And her face?

Tight. Eyes wild. That smile she wore like a mask--tremblin at the corners. Rage and need fightin for control.

I didn't say shit. Just leaned against the counter and watched her breathe.

"You really fucked her," she said.

"You really mad I did?"

Her eyes cut. "You must like bottom-of-the-barrel bitches. Is that your thing?"

"You ever ask yourself why that bothers you so much?"

She froze.

I stepped closer. "You scared of losin her... or scared she finally found somethin without you?"

She slapped me.

Not hard. Not weak either. But more outta confusion than anger. Her lips were tremblin. Eyes glossy but not cryin.

So I kissed her.

Hard.

She bit my lip, I grabbed her throat, and just like that, we was locked in a battle that wasn't about love, wasn't even about sex. It was about truth. And I was gon drag it outta her, one filthy confession at a time.

"Strip." I told her.

She did. Slow. Teeth gritted like she hated bein told what to do--but hated more how much it made her wet.

I had her stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom.

"Touch yourself."

"What?"

"You heard me. Fingers on that clit. Now. Don't stop 'til I say."

Her thighs were already shakin before she started. I stepped behind her, one hand on her hip, the other restin on her chest--not to feel her up, but to feel her breathe.

"Look at yourself."

She did.

"Now say it. Say you were jealous when I picked her."

She paused. Rubbed slow.

"...fuck you."

I slapped her ass. Hard. The sound echoed like a gunshot.

"Say it."

"...I was jealous."

"Why?"

"...'Cause I'm supposed to be the one niggas want."

"You think Mary Bell wanted me? Or you think she needed one thing to not go to you for?"

That broke somethin in her. Her legs buckled a little.

"You ever took one of her niggas?" I whispered, lips against her neck.

"Yes..."

"Why?"

"...'Cause they always came lookin at me first. I just... followed through."

"And how'd she act when you did?"

"...like she forgave me. But she didn't. She stopped talkin to me for three months after Rico."

"You like makin her feel small?"

"...sometimes. Yeah."

"Why?"

Her breathing hitched. Her hand was movin faster on her clit now. I grabbed her hair, pulled her head back, forced her to look at herself dead in the mirror.

"Say it."

"...because she had a everything."

That silence hit the room like a thunderclap.

I said nothin.

She kept goin.

"Her mama made her lunch every day in school. Her dad used to pick her up. I had... nothin. I was wearin her hand-me-downs and she ain't even know it."

"So you punished her?"

"...I wanted her to need me. 'Cause she never envied me. She pitied me."

"And that made you hate her?"

"No." Her voice cracked. "That made me love her more than she ever loved me."

She came hard after that.

Shakin. Silent. Legs wet.

I didn't let her rest.

I threw her on the bed and tied her wrists with a belt. Got on top of her and slapped my dick across her lips.

"You ever tell her that?"

"No."

"You want me to fuck you like you hate her?"

"Yes."

"Nah. You want me to fuck you like you are her."

That look on her face? Shame and need mixin in one melting expression. She opened her mouth.

I slid in deep.

That head was sinful.

She gagged on purpose. Made eye contact like it hurt but she wanted it to. Tears rollin, spit every damn where. I grabbed her ponytail, pulled her off, slapped her face with my dick and said, "Say you ain't better than her."

"...I'm not."

"Say it louder."

"I'm not better than Mary Bell!"

"You never were, bitch."

Her pussy was drippin on my sheets and I hadn't even touched it again....

I flipped her over. Ass up. Face buried in the pillow.

She moaned before I even slid in.

When I did? That pussy gripped me like she was trying to peel the skin off. I stroked slow. Deep. Talked while I did it.

"This is how she sounded when I was in her."

"...don't tell me that..."

"Nah. You wanted to know."

"I bet her pussy didn't talk back like mine."

Smack. I slapped her ass again. Gripped her cheeks and went deeper.

She was mumblin nonsense. Sayin please every few seconds.

"You came already once, right?"

"...yes..."

"You think you earned another one?"

"...please..."

"You gon cum when I say. Not a second before."

I pulled out and sat back.

"Get on your knees. Edge yourself."

She dropped, desperate. Her fingers slid back to that soaked pussy. Eyes glazed over. Mouth open.

"Beg for it."

"Please let me cum... please... I'll do anything."

"Say what you hated most about her."

"...her hope. She always believed shit would work out. I hated that. I envied it. I wanted her to be fucked up like me."

"Say what you loved most."

"...her laugh."

"You miss her?"

"...every day."

"You still want my dick?"

"Yes. God, yes."

"You ain't earned it."

I made her crawl over and clean my dick with her tongue.

Then I stood her up, bent her over my desk, and fucked her raw 'til she cried.

Tears. Moans. Sweat.

She came three more times. I didn't.

Pulled out. Left her there breathin heavy, mascara runnin, thighs twitchin.

"You don't get a nut from me," I said.

She looked up, eyes wet. "Why?"

"'Cause you still think this was about you."

She left after that.

Didn't even say goodbye.

But she texted the next morning.

"She knows."

When I saw the text I didn't reply.