So after the Mike fiasco, I decided to give getting to know someone a break and like magic, Scotty shows up. I've known of him for at least a year before we've done anything sexual. I met him while filming a promo video for my project EQUINOX dancing in the middle of some artwork in the city when he slithered ... I mean, showed up. I knew he was interested and to be honest I was a bit annoyed, especially since I was in my creative mode.

"What's up!" he started. A typical way of grabbing my attention, which I didn't want to spare, but he was tall, dark and handsome and with that being said I stopped in my own tracks to give him at least a few minutes to see what it is he was trying to talk about. Again I already knew what this was and his proposal. Yet it never happened ... until now.

A year later, I'm walking down Peachtree Street scoping out my new neighborhood when he emerged from the bustling corporate crowd. I'd thought about him a few times before but not expecting to ever see him again. He walked up as I crossed traffic wearing his sunglasses and all I saw was his print staring back at me in his platted shorts or maybe that was the horniness distracting me. Either way we rapped for a few minutes and then headed back to my place for some "finally" sex.

His 6'3 stature, dark chocolate sprayed over prison muscles, with torso tatted "Thug Life" in memory of the late Tupac Shakur, equipped with lips so supple drove me wild. This wasn't love, this was straight up fucking and I was in need of just that. Not exactly how I'd expected it to be but he got the job done. When we entered my villa he couldn't wait to rip my clothes off and place me in the bed. I held his manhood and inserted it into my mouth. Of course, he enjoyed himself and stood up trying his best to not come so quickly. The smack down commenced and it only lasted ten minutes, yet those ten minutes made me crave for more of his skill sets.

Days later, the rain poured and the promise he supposedly kept were, as suspected, faulty. What is it about people when it comes to keeping their word? Doesn't anyone respect the code or is it so played out to the point I'm seemingly living back in time? My grandmother would always say, "Your word is your bond," meaning keep your word or at least keep the Thursday you "promised" to come by and do me again.

3 weeks later ...

I see Scotty again in the same fashion walking down Peachtreee Street, this time I'm not as interested to getting under the sheets. Knowing this, I listened to his half ass excuse but without the anger. Why get angry when I knew he was full of shit.

"I got caught up that's why I didn't make it," he says.

With my right eyebrow raised and arms crossed he knew I knew he was full of shit

"Got caught up, huh? Lets just say for what it is. You called me wanting to come over and then stood me up because you decided to go fuck someone else. Don't play games, let's be an adult about it and move on." I replied with my arms still crossed and neck slightly rolling.

Minutes later, he's back in my bed doing the same moves as before, apologizing for the tardiness (3 weeks, by the way), having convulsions, so excited he can't contain himself and yet I'm doing my best efforts to fully enjoy him -- except I wasn't. The thrill was fulfilled and he placed his pants back on. While watching him fixing his clothes I felt a hint of remorse. I was fucking again and not making love. I threw the idea of there being more out of the window once again. He exits as I make way for the ice cream settling in my fridge.

Weeks later ...

NEW TEXT MESSAGE flashes onto MADISON's (my iPad's) screen, it was Scotty wanting to beam me up again. It'd been a few weeks and I was horny and his dick was more than enough for me to handle. I was at the computer lab not far from his place on Jackson Street and so my hectic yet productive workday was placed on hold to answer another call ... the calling of my hormones. Minutes later he's walking up to me as I spot him on site. We were heading to my house when he'd forgotten his ID. Being slightly annoyed we ventured over to his place to retrieve it.

When I entered his condo I noticed the décor and Buddha statues all over the place. It was a bit off from what kind of man I gathered from him, yet, never judge a book by its cover, I guess. I looked around and had a funny feeling. Wasn't sure of where it was deriving from yet this set up didn't make sense. Making our way to the door, he grabs me by the waist and kisses me from behind. Instantly I turned and kissed him on those succulent lips. He leads me to the king size burgundy bed and removes my clothes simultaneously as he's sucking on my right nipple and picks me up. He carries me to the bed and spreads me. His King Magnum condom is opened with his hand teasing my goodies.

His sweat meets my brow as the power drilling commenced. I felt every inch and girth promote excitement on both our ends. One thing I could appreciate he always makes sure I cum before or after his satisfaction is met. For the next five minutes, Scotty has ejaculated all over his bed dripping onto me and then the fetish activated.

It was now my turn to experience ecstasy from his fingers and tongue caressing my nipple with his wetly grasp. Witnessing his muscles working to get me off sent my sense to overdrive. With the city life's constant noise providing soundtrack to my satisfaction. Finally, I climaxed all over his bed. A warm washcloth presented, I wiped my evidence of pleasure and headed to the rest room to finish cleaning up.

In the bathroom, nature called, therefore I answered. I notice more feminine décor and realized something startling. Scotty, on the phone, seemed to be speaking lower than usual. His behavior was growing stranger and overheard him telling whomever on the phone he wasn't home but at the fish market. Then it hit me: he was telling fish (a woman) he was at the market getting some fish. WHAT! I thought.

"Hey we gotta go!" he rushed.

"I'm peeing!" I replied

"Come on!"


Truly evident, he was unraveling before my eyes while sitting on the commode.

"Sorry but I'm not getting a urinary tract infection being rushed by you."

He began growing more impatient and my patience was no more. Placing my clothes onto my body I began asking questions.




Still, just silence.

The more he was refusing to speak the more pissed I became. Then the pieces were coming together. I was in a woman's house he was seeing. I knew the décor was too done perfect. Nothing in that apartment matched his personality. What lies would he spill next? I storm out of his mystery girlfriend's place of course he gotta be a negro by acting nonchalant about it all.

"Calm that shit down man!" he says.


Zooming down the stairs with confused yet unbothered neighbors spectating, my heart races and this motherfucker has placed me in an awkward and unnecessary position. What if she would have came home and caught us? She could have done anything to me! To us both! And here I am yet caught in a situation I have no business in.


Scotty, not giving a damn, makes another phone call:

"What up ... where you at? I'm on the way."

I turned and glanced him once more to realize he was nothing more than a deceitful waste of time. It amazes me how much he was in denial and simply not having any remorse about anyone but his selfish self. Scotty walks off calm, cool and collected on the phone making plans with his next victim.

I should have seen this coming, but I didn't. Instead I went with the flow without checking everything to be sure it was legit. 15 minutes later, my villa embraced me as I removed all of my clothes and got into my steaming hot shower doing my best to wash it all away. But I couldn't. He's played me in such a way. It was the principle of it all. Why drag me into your tragedy ever after? I'm better than being a sidepiece for confused thug bait.

Days later ...

YOU HAVE A NEW MESSAGE flashes my screen. Scotty's text read:

"I'm sorry, let me take you out for lunch."

Laughing at this excuse of a man, I didn't bother to respond. What for, when I knew for sure he was full of shit this time with an extra helping and I was no longer interested in shoveling it anymore?

This goes to show you, sometimes you can't trust everyone's word alone. Some cases require extensive research. In other words -- look before you leap.

Then "WreckitRalph" texted me ...

"We're still on for Friday?"

I replied, "You bet."

Stay Tuned for the next blog post: "1hr 30 Seconds."