The Naughty Sins Of A Saint (22 page)

Xenia
typed in the password when prompted. She jaw-dropped when the screensaver appeared. “Oh, my God. Who have I married?” She laughed as the gigantic vulva filled the entire screen. Out of the vaginal opening spilled colorful candies and pink diamonds.

Xenia
opened her email and went through her messages, periodically looking up at the television to watch the news. Wearing her husband’s oversized black T-shirt with “Men’s Conference 2012” printed on it in bold, white letters, she moved about on the couch, trying to keep herself interested in the business at hand. As she closed one window and opened another on the computer, she noticed a small folder embedded in a desktop folder which was marked “Nubian.”

‘Now I know I shouldn’t go through his shit,’ Xenia thought. Her curiosity grew strongly. She thought that since they were married, there shouldn’t be any secrets. She double-clicked on it. The folder contained more folders, some of which were encrypted.

“Damn! How much security does he need?” Xenia said in frustration as she tried to figure out how to get them open. One required an additional password, so she was sure it was the mother of all jackpots. For the next fifteen minutes, she tried in vain to guess it. She typed in, “Pussy,” “Sex Fiend,” “Conference,” and a host of others to no avail.

“Shit!” The reporter in her pushed her forward – anything for the story. She racked her brain. Her nimble fingers, painted in pink with white glitter, flew across the keyboards for another stab at the grand prize. She typed “Xenia,” certain it wouldn’t work. She gasped as she heard the computerized voice announcement “You’ve opened Xenia.” She looked around, paranoid, certain he must have had some sort of alarm tied to it that logged the time and place the information was accessed. Regardless, it was too late. She knew she had come too far to turn back now.

Xenia
opened subfolder after subfolder. Most of them contained photos of her that he must have collected over the past few weeks online and ones he took himself while their whirlwind romance evolved. She smiled as she saw the naked photos she had emailed him per his deviant request for “emergency jack-off” sessions. He had created a hierarchy for them, starting with his favorite. She also saw the written correspondence between them that he saved. One unnamed folder remained. She clicked on it and discovered an organized database of self-dream analyses and journal logs. She was certain with his being a sex therapist by trade that he found relaying thoughts and ideas helpful. She began to read:

– Another bad bout with insomnia. Going on four days with only twenty minutes of sleep. I refuse to take the medication the doctor prescribed. I know what this is about. Nothing is going to make it better until I’m cured. If I see one more infomercial about hair removal or transvaginal mesh, I’m going to take a sledgehammer to my television.

– Was asked again about why I’m single in the third interview today. It’s by choice until I find the right one. I keep repeating myself, and it’s getting tiresome.

– Had the special dream again, but this time I could see her face. She was on purple clouds. I was lying next to her and we were unclothed. We looked like we were about to make love.

– Met Xenia Donnellson today. You’d think I’d be happy that I found my “queen,” but she’s an absolute bitch. Of course I’d never call her that, but she really is. I’ll have to devise a plan regarding her. This is going to be a tough nut to crack. She won’t go down easily, but I don’t have much time to play with her. I need to get in and get out while the iron is still hot.

– Had a horrible nightmare last night. I hope it was just a result of my allergy medicine. I was on a date with someone. I could only see the back of her. She had angel wings, and someone shot her in the back. Blood splattered everywhere. I finally was able to fall asleep, and this is the shit that happens.

– Men’s Conference in Arizona next month is scheduled. I’ll be discussing the fetishism of Black women. This should be a good turnout. Arizona always sells out, especially with Latin and Native American men.

– Got another email. This one said they’d behead me then mail my body to Africa where I can have all the Nigger pussy I want, and then the cannibals can have at me. Like the others, it started with “Dear Mongoloid.” I have no idea how these people are getting my email addresses. Authorities alerted once again. Tired of this shit.

– Xenia Donnellson is one of the finest specimens of womanhood I’ve ever seen. Funny, she’s still pretending to hate my guts, but I have to do what I have to do. When you know something to be correct, no matter how ridiculous it sounds, you must follow through. We’re going to go out.

– Need to follow up with Raphael.

– Was told by a sexy white woman today that I have swagger. She also said she wanted to fuck me to prove I was wrong about white women. She was very nice looking. The pussy may have been the bomb, but I don’t want any of it. Once you go Black, you never go back.

– I’s married now (in my “Color Purple” voice, of course)! Officially off the market. I feel complete now. Thank you, God.

– I’m cured. I’m in love. It’s finally over. I’ve been able to sleep better too.

– My schedule is out of control. I’m trying to spend time with my wife, but all we have time for is eating and sex, not that I’m complaining since those are two of my favorite things, but I want to take her out tonight for some entertainment, something besides my dick and a bowl of grapes. She deserves better than this.

Xenia
continued to read. Everything she read, even the gritty, not-so-nice comments made her love him even more. He was authentic and caring – self-confident and aggressive. He took care of home and was fun, damaged yet self-aware, honest, and about his business. She set the laptop to the side and turned back towards the television. On the side of the entertainment center, she saw a collection of DVDs. She leisurely got up from the couch and perused the collection. “Ah ha,” she said as she saw several copies of various Men’s Conferences. “Women aren’t supposed to see these, huh?” She grabbed one, loaded it in the DVD player, ran back to the couch, covered herself with the Chenille blanket he had given her earlier that morning, amongst other little gifts, and selected hit “Play.”

“The reason why I’m talking about how to fuck this woman so much is because I’m a sex therapist. However, the power of fucking is mental and emotional; physical is the very last aspect. This isn’t for the faint of heart, and if anyone in here doesn’t like what I’m saying, I really don’t give a shit. Sometimes the truth hurts. You, as men, are in control of this. You can’t let your woman do all the footwork in the relationship. It sets you up to be her bitch, and it sets her up for failure and resentment. Know your damn role. She shouldn’t have to fill your shoes. I don’t care if you’re ninety years old, as long as your body still allows it, you and your spouse should make love until the day you die. Some people believe sex isn’t a need, but that’s a lie. It’s a driving force for all of us. Don’t believe me? Just ask some lifers in prison. Some of them haven’t seen pussy in over thirty years. An unattractive female security guard can walk past their cell, and those men will act like crazed monkeys, clamoring to get a look at her. They’d fuck her to death if given the chance. She could be four hundred pounds and bald as an eagle. She still has a pussy, and they want it. Pussy has driven otherwise straight prisoners to turning their cellmates into bitches by pretending that their ass is a cunt. They sometimes make a partner put on lipstick and shave his balls. If he was simply gay, he wouldn’t care about all that. When you’re not going anywhere for the rest of your life, you end up doing shit that’s out of character to fulfill that need, that thirst for what’s between a woman’s legs. We’re born out of pussy, then spend the rest of our lives trying to get back in. It’s not just because sex feels good. It’s also because it feeds us in ways most men don’t even understand. We just know we crave it.

The fact of the matter is that we can go a long time without it, but I challenge anyone to show me a red-blooded human being of sexual maturity that can live without thoughts of sex, masturbation, tits, dicks and pussies, porn, and so on. We were created by means of sex, and we die still wanting it. We live in a Puritan country that’s obsessed with sex. That isn’t a good mix. It causes an increase in sexual assaults and harmful perversions. When you look at some other societies, such as Japan and France, where pornography isn’t taboo, their rates of sexual assaults are very low. The nude body, sex, and sexuality aren’t vilified. It’s no longer scandalous to see some tits. But in America, we even pervert breastfeeding. We make a woman feel guilty for trying to feed her baby. Babies aren’t on a schedule. They need to eat whenever they’re hungry, and their mothers need to be allowed to do that. If we weren’t so fucked up in the head as a society about sex and the human body, we would embrace normal biological functions like this.

When we consider who pursues whom, it must be the man who sets the tone. As men, we’re the ones that have perverted assumptions in this society based on Puritan views. Yet we chase pussy constantly, so we’re walking contradictions. We chase it by trying to climb the corporate ladder, buy a big house and fancy cars, and dress like we own ninety-nine percent of Versace stock. We want to go to all the best places to dance, eat, and be entertained. For straight men, this quest is all about pussy. All the big shit we buy is an extension of our dicks.

You don’t see most women throwing themselves at bums. They throw themselves at established men, the guys with a job, a house, a car. You can call it gold-digging, but all women of all races are gold-diggers. This isn’t exclusive to Black women! The Black men who tell you this know good and fucking well that the white women they fuck are doing the same shit! We all are Johns. We pay for pussy every time our girlfriends, booty call, wife, whatever the hell she is, asks us for some shit. ‘Give me some money to go shopping. Give me some jewelry. I need a car,’ and on and on it goes, and we do that shit because we want that pussy. You know why women do this? It’s in their DNA. Just like it’s in our DNA to want to fuck them as many times as we can, it’s in their DNA to make sure we can provide for them and their offspring. She would be fucking stupid to want to date some broke-ass man! It’s different to leave someone at a low time in their life. That’s not what I’m advocating here. If she loves you, she’ll stay even when the money is gone, especially if it’s through no fault of your own, But that’s not what I’m concentrating on here.

We’re animals, people. I don’t care how scientific you get, how educated and proud you become, you’re a fucking animal, and so is she. She only wants the cum of a man who can handle that. Women want a man to handle them and take care of them. That’s one of the reasons pimping and prostitution are the oldest professions. It’s what women and men naturally do to one another! Your wife is your ho, and you’re her pimp and her John all at once – plain truth! The prostitute has the power between her legs, the pimp has mind control and physical protection, and the John has the money and security she seeks. Now of course, don’t call her that, but that’s what it is. Whether you consciously try to get a woman pregnant is beside the point. Your body is programmed to procreate, and it’ll try to do so every time she’s in heat. It doesn’t matter if you’ve had a vasectomy, been celibate for years, are a forty-year-old virgin, or have low sperm count. These conditions don’t affect your body’s drive to reproduce. Only certain diseases and health and weight issues have been shown to affect sex drive for men. In my practice, most of my so-called impotent men weren’t impotent at all. They were stressed out, and it caused their dicks to malfunction. Remove the stress – boner returns – man wants to fuck again – problem solved. We know when our woman is ovulating. Her entire chemistry changes. She acts different. We chase her more.

We notice her hair and lips, ask her if she cut it or got a new lipstick. We’re designed to be more sexually attracted to her when she has a viable egg. Our senses take notice. It’s not even easy, as some people believe, for a woman to get pregnant, and back in the day, there were no drug store ovulation kits. How do you think the man knew when to have sex to impregnate her? He could smell it. It’s called chemistry – pheromones. There’s only a forty-eight hour window for her to get pregnant. For some women it’s as little as twelve hours. That’s all you have, and that doesn’t include the travel time for your nut to swim up there and fertilize her shit. The timing has to be precise. If you’re five minutes late, too bad! Once that egg starts leaving, it’s over and her period will be on its way in the next two weeks. Women take more time with themselves during ovulation, as well. You may notice she’s using a bit more make-up, wearing nicer clothes, and flirting with you more. She doesn’t know why she’s doing it, she just is. It just feels right. She’s doing it to attract a mate. It’s the primitive programming, people!

These are things we don’t think about, and here you men are talking about “the bitch trapped me with this baby.” You knew – a part of you knew that egg was waiting, and your body did what it was programmed to do – knock her the fuck up! Be who you are! There is no half-animal, we’re all animal. Just because we can solve complex mathematical equations, use our thumbs to help pick up objects, and go to the moon doesn’t mean we aren’t primitive. We can do all that shit – build skyscrapers and find cures for diseases, but we are who we are.