"So, can I borrow the money, Jadish?"

She wanted to love herself. "Yea, woman you can."

"Thank you, baby."

Jesus! This feels so good!

She gyrated her hips, tears falling from her eyes. She worked it, loved it, felt it and needed it.

"So I guess I won't be hearing from you in the next three months."

"Yea, that's about the jest of it."

Good I should give her twenty dollars so she could vanish for six months.

The sudden feeling took her breath away.

Sensations hurdled over each other, sending her into a spasmodic tremble. She felt the explosion, pulsated along her spine, settled in the nerves of her torso.

Speeding up as fast as she could go, tears fell down her face as she gripped the phone. Her legs drummed together. She was pounding her pussy up against the door knob...

The brass ball brushing against her G-spot.

She was in love with the knob. Oh, yea. She and the knob were going to be best friends.

The door and the wall played a banging symphony that had her about to pull her hair out.

Oh yea.

Oh yea...

OH YEA!

Her muscles contracting in her pussy, she burst open.

All her love, her anguish, her misery and her joy, everything she was as a woman spontaneously recreated the freak deep down inside of her and

she couldn't handle it.

She could no longer contain herself.

With a joyous smile. "Oh shit I'm coming!"

She began coming on the door knob,

shuddering where she stood. Her body appreciatively pleasured.

She held her face as another orgasm rocked her sweaty body senseless.

She dropped the phone, her mother

shrieking and disgusted.

Once the tremors subsided, she fell to her knees, picking up the phone.

Her mother was saying, "You nasty bitch!"

Jadish smiled, staring at the phone, embarrassed.

Her mother went on, clearly pissed, "You're getting some while you're on the phone with me?"

Jadish moaned sensually, rolling over on the carpet and smiling.

"Sorry Mama!" Well, I'm not sorry, actually. This is my fucking house. My phone. My rules.

"You know how it is. On all accounts I feel good, to use your words. Have a good night."

Kissing through the phone she hung up.

Jadish was in the shower, washing her hair. She thought about her husband of two years, arrogant, selfish-ass Saxophone Jenkins.

He was called "Sax" (his mother named him after her favorite instrument).

His handsome image played in her brain cells and she held the wall, her pussy throbbing. She ached for him but that aching and the smile and the lust and the horniness quickly dissipated into a redundant frown.

Sax was a gorgeous man she loved with everything in her. Yet he selfishly pressured her everyday for this and that.

Iron the clothes. Cook the food. I don't really cook, he told her. I wear the pants. You wear the panties. And you don't even let me taste your pussy as much as I want to, he always whined.

In fact his quips were becoming jittery and confusing.

There was nothing she wouldn't do for him.

Well, there was one thing she couldn't bring herself to do and she didn't want to think about it...