Don’t Speak On Fresh Cutz Part FOur: From The Back

(WAIT! Make sure you read Part One, Part Two, AND Part Three of “Don’t Speak on Fresh Cutz” before proceeding.)

Before I get into Part 4 of Fresh Cutz (I KNOW you must be on the edge of your seats after last weekend’s cliffhanger) I have a special surpise!

I’m releasing a BRAND NEW storyline next weekend, the weekend of July 25, “Bad Ass Mars”. Here’s a short synopsis to whet your appetite:

“Bad Ass Mars” is the story of Mars and Safiya. Safiya lives on a farm on Africatown, and recently met Mars, who came to Africatown after committing themselves to Pan-Africanism. The two spend their days learning, singing, dancing, and pleasing each other, and wonder where their whirlwind love will lead as they pursue liberation together.

This is a story close to my heart, it’s a little bit of a different style than “Fresh Cutz” which I’m really excited about and I think y’all will love it. I know I do. But don’t let me speak for you: tell me what you like, darling.

Bad Ass Mars: A Black Erotica (Coming Soon!)

Since “Bad Ass Mars” is getting released next weekend (July 25) “Fresh Cutz” Part 5 is going to be released around August 1.

Thank you for tuning in heauxs, and Missy Neon loves you!!! Now for your regularly scheduled programming: “Don’t Speak On Fresh Cutz” Part Four.

MUST be 18 years or older to read this content.

DON’T SPEAK ON FRESH CUTZ
PART Four: From The Back

“Stassia what the hell?”

“Girl, I said guess.” Stassia could barely get the words out she was laughing so hard. She put her hand on my shoulder and hiccupped out her last giggles, and the people who were doing coke in the bathroom squeezed their way around us as they went from the bathroom to the stage. Stassia started regaining her composure, her laughter replaced with a nervous smile.

“Guess,” Stassia said, her voice softer now. “I just…I need to tell you.”

I cocked my head to the side and felt my heart drop to my ass. My mouth felt numb, like my lips had merged together, but not in a painful way, a sort of static feeling…basically, the drugs fully kicked in at this point and I was at a loss for words.

Stassia looked at me, leaning on me completely in the tight hallway between the bathroom of the speakeasy and the stage. She put her face close to mine, her lips brushing against my ear as she spoke.

“It was….” Stassia took a quick breath. ”It was…”

“Wait,” I said. Stassia’s eyes widened and her eyebrow raised, surprised by my response. “Can we wait?”

I couldn’t figure out how to make my mouth form all the words I wanted to say and hoped that Stassia could understand. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and squeezed me, and pressed her lips on my forehead.

Stassia placed her fingers under my face and lifted my chin so my lips could meet hers. “You right. Let’s enjoy our night,” she said before staring into my eyes, and in a beat she took my hand and took me back up to the stage where the crowd continued to jump and dance. We joined them, jumping and gyrating to the rhythms Fury Untamed was creating in front of us. I spun around and I know it’s trifling but I took off my shoes because I wanted to jump higher. I felt like I was on the moon in outer space, jumping in low gravity, rising high above my problems before gently coming back down to Earth.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that I have a habit of running away from my problems. I have my reasons. I’ve displayed this habit frequently over the 1.5 years I’ve known Stassia and Big P. And whether I needed to hitch rides with Stassia because my car died after I refused to face the reality that it needed repairs, or I continued fucking a married man because I refused to face the reality that he wasn’t leaving his wife, Stassia always been patient with me.

But there was something unspoken happening in the speakeasy that night. I know Stassia pretty well, and I could only think of a couple reasons why it’d be hard for her to divulge this information to me.

But why face reality now when you could face it tomorrow?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I rolled over in my bed around noon the next day to find Stassia laying next to me. She was snoring a little, and was laying on her back with her hands over her head. Her skin glowed underneath the pink panties and crop top she wore to sleep, the crop top short enough for her beautiful dark brown nipples to peek through from underneath it. I laid back down briefly, resting my head on my pillow and finding my equilibrium after a lit ass night. I took a few deep breaths before getting out of bed to make some tea.

As I got my tea leaves from my cabinet, I looked around my apartment and noticed how good a night Stassia and I had. Our clothes were scattered everywhere, a half-eaten carryout box of shrimp fried rice and chicken wings fried hard sat on my coffee table. I turned back to the tea, making a mental note to clean up later that day. I filled up the kettle with water and placed it over the gas stove, turning up the heat. When I turned around, I saw that Stassia had woken up and was sitting on the bed, her legs dangling over the side and her white-painted toes wiggling. She stretched and yawned.

“Good morning, beautiful Newt,” she said before flopping her body back down on the bed.

I laughed and said good morning, turned off the heat on the stove and walked over to the bed.

“Can I sit on it?” I asked Stassia as I stood before her, sliding my finger up her leg.

Stassia smirked. “Look at this, a treat first thing in the morning.”

I climbed on top of her to straddle her body, and bent over to kiss her. She rested her hands on top of my ass, then lightly squeezed her fingertips into my skin. I started grinding against her and felt her dick getting swollen with longing for me underneath my pelvis. My clit was hard and wanting, and I took off my panties so Stassia could feel how much I wanted her from the stickiness and wetness between my legs. She took off her underwear too, and I got back on top of her, feeling her hardness between my thighs, jumping and begging to be let in.

I moaned, and pressed my chest against Stassia’s as I lifted my ass in the air so my pussy was right on top of her tip. I reached back with my hands and guided her inside of me, and had to pause for a second to savor how good it felt. My whole body felt like static.

I grinded on her with her inside me, twisting my hips in circles as I rode her. I started to sweat, and the slickness of our persperation and the way our breasts and nipples rubbed up against each other in it turned me on even more. I let her dick go deeper and deeper inside me, feeling her dick getting closer to my cervix.

Before I came again, I turned my body around with her dick still inside me so that I was riding her facing her legs and feet so she could get a perfect view of my ass. I moved my hips in a circle, and looked back at my ass to get a peek of Stassia’s reaction. Her eyebrows were pinched in the middle with focus, her mouth open, and she lifted her hand and swatted at my ass, landing a perfect slap that made me lose my breath. I started grinding faster on her dick, and she slapped each ass cheek, one after the other, before grabbing both with each hand and slamming my ass down against her, rubbing the outside of my asshole with her thumb.

After a few minutes she tapped against my ass and pulled herself outside of me. I turned around so I was facing her, then put my lips gently on the tip of her penis as she played with her penis.

“Fuck,” Stassia said, and thick cum shot out of her, landing on my nose and the outside of my lips, and I put my mouth over the head of her dick so I could catch the rest where it belonged.

We both laid down on the bed, wet with sweat and sex, and breathed deeply. Stassia was laying on her back with her arms out and I curled up next to her. She put her arms around me and pulled me closer to her.

“We really went hard last night, huh” she sighed, letting out a light chuckle to punctuate her sentence. It was definitely a night, an amazing night, and I started replaying what I could in my head. Going to our favorite carryout spot at 3 am. Staying for the whole concert and talking and smoking with the band after the show. Fucking in the bathroom.

I smiled as I replayed the memories in my head, until one memory stood out.

“Stassia,” I sat up in bed and turned to her, my voice shrinking to a whisper. “You said you knew who robbed Cutz?”

Her face dropped and her mouth opened like she had words she wanted to say but wouldn’t let them out. She slowly sat up in bed next to me, and sat cross legged in front of me.

“It’s hard for me to keep shit from you.” She closed her eyes and waited a beat before opening them. “I’m one thousand percent sure whoever robbed the shop, in the shop.” Stassia paused for a moment, looking into my eyes. “I know for certain that Ryan the primary target. Ryan got secret money and done some people dirty…Nyah it’s not safe to be with him.”

I took a deep breath and sighed. “You know who it is?'“

“I heard from one of Ryan’s boys that they getting close,” Stassia said. “I’m not supposed to say anything but…you need to leave Ryan alone. He’s trouble and that not gone be the last time this happens…and dick not even that good so…”

And then, and I’m embarrassed thinking about it, but it was like all the emotions from the last week and a half, shit, from the time I’ve known Ryan, or maybe from the time I moved to this place nearly two years ago, all caught up to me. Tears started forming in my eyes and I couldn’t stop them. I cried, and I looked up and Stassia had tears in her eyes, too. And I don’t know how long we were crying, but we held each other and cried until it felt like there wasn’t anymore cry to give.

I looked up at Stassia, her eyes as bloodshot and puffy as I imagined mine were. “If you could do anything and be anywhere,” I said, “where would you be?”

Stassia let out a little laugh and looked down at her hands before looking back up at me. “I’m gonna have my own restaurant. I was nervous before but now, I’m sure. Maybe back home.” Stassia smiled and put her hand on my knee, shaking it. “You’ll get an invitation to opening night don’t worry. And my restaurant?” Stassia got out of bed and put her hands over her head, walking over to the stove and turning the water on. “It’s gotta be beautiful, baby!”

“You a great cook,” I said from the bed. “I can see it. Stassia’s Kitchen. And the menu will be?”

“Fusion. Caribbean, soul food, stuff like that. I’m still thinking through everything. And it wouldn’t be Stassia’s Kitchen,” Stassia said, tucking some stray hair that escaped her red bonnet back under it. “I’m thinking Suzanne’s.”

“That’s your grandma name right?”

“Look at you, listening,” Stassia said. “She taught me everything.”

I got out of bed and walked the short length between my bed and my kitchen sink to where Stassia was watching the kettle and held her. We breathed deep together, finding comfort through being pressed to each other’s skin.

“What about you?” Stassia said. I took another deep breath and searched my mind and heart for the answer. Ryan may have me dickmatized but I know my future isn’t with him. But what do I want to do? Who do I want to be? I spend so much time running from my past, it’s hard to think about the future.

“I don’t know. I know we talk about Ryan being married…but I need to get my own divorce finalized and then…I don’t know.”

Stassia’s the only one in this place who knows about my ex and my divorce, my circumstances for running away here. She rubbed my back with her hand. “There’s gotta be something you wanna do when you free from these niggas,” she said as the kettle slowly started to sing.

I thought for a bit. When I first came here I tried to let go of everything I used to be, everything I used to know. Honestly I don’t totally know who I am now. It’s easier to fill more and more of my time getting money, getting lit, getting dick...wash, rinse, repeat.

But there was one big part of my life that I gave up when I first came here, a part of me I wanted to get back.

“I love to sing,” I said. “I’d love to be somewhere I can sing and sing and sing.”

Stassia looked at me and smiled, then looked around the apartment until she found her bag. She pulled out her phone and started typing into it as she walked back over to me. She slapped the device on the counter and En Vongue started blaring out of its speakers, a group Stassia and I often sing out loud to together when we’re riding in her car. I look at her and smile and roll my eyes as I assemble the mugs and tea leaves. I can’t help but start singing after Stassia starts up, holding an imaginary mic in front of her face.

I double over laughing and we both sing, loud, freely, dancing together, before the song is interrupted by my own phone ringing.

And like fucking clockwork. It was fucking Ryan.

I opened my phone and saw that he had texted me before he called. I have something to tell you baby . Can I see you?

I looked up at Stassia, how beautiful she was even first thing in the morning, her voice trumpet loud and jazz smooth. How much I cared about her and how much she cares about me.

I look back down at my phone, at the texts from this nigga Ryan. I type out When? and hit send.

What past marriage is Nyah running from? Nyah seems to have a beautiful relationship with Stassia, so why does Ryan keep coming up and what is he hiding? Will Nyah finally get answers from Ryan about…well..anything? Tune in the first weekend of August to see part five of “Don’t Speak on Fresh Cutz.”