Obsession
It dawns on Mahari that the only way to confirm whether or not this is indeed her favorite graduate assistant is to actually watch one of the videos in its entirety. Which means that she is going to have to actually visit his OnlyFans. Although she’s heard plenty about the website, she has never actually used it. Her thoughts immediately jump to Sanaa who follows quite a few people on the platform before she shakes that thought completely. On the one hand, if she is correct, she doesn’t want too many people figuring out who he is. From the way the video was shot, Mahari has her suspicious that Mr. Stevens was actively keeping his identity a secret. So she would do her part in helping him with that endeavor. On the other hand, if Mahari is wrong and she shares this information with Five, her best friend will never let her hear the end of it.
“You so desperate to see this nigga naked, you out here following his dopplegangers? Just ask to suck his dick and go! Gosh!”
Mahari cringes. Yeah, better to be safe than sorry. So, she clicks the link, ready to get her Inspector Gadget juices - and probably some others - flowing.
Being the noob that she is, she wasn’t aware that she needed a subscription before continuing.
“$15.99?! This nigga smoking dicks!” she fusses in her best Soulja Boy voice. He’s fine, but not $15.99 for a 30 day subscription fine.
But you spend $15.99 in one sitting at the grill, her conscious reasons.
“That’s not the point, dammit!” she screams to no one in particular.
After pacing her living room for what seemed like ages, she finally bites the bullet and grabs her wallet.
“Every one of this nigga’s videos better be at least five minutes long or we squaring the fuck up,” she fumes once her information is entered. She bypasses the prompt to create a full profile, opting to remain User02091987 until her assumptions are confirmed.
“Black Mamba?! I know this nigga ain’t disgracing Kobe’s name like this,” Hari chuckles with a shake of her head. She scrolls down the page, checking out the number of likes, comments, and tips he has before scrolling back to the reason she was on the site in the first place.
“Only one video and I’m gone,” she promises herself. Knowing full well that she’s more than likely lying.
Her mouth gapes as his lust laced baritone fills her ears. She cursed herself for watching the video with her Airpods in, allowing the sounds of sex to consume her. Mahari is nearly in a trance-like state as C’s hips clap back against Erik’s waist. This obviously wasn’t their first time together, you could tell by the way their bodies moved in synchronicity. From what she could see from the dim lighting of the study room, he was big. Like horses are his next of kin big, and Hari’s eyes grew wide with how well C was taking him.
“Arch that shit deeper,” he commands, pushing his hands down on the small of her back. His stance widening as he lengthens his strokes. “Arch it!”
“Ah, fuck Daddy,” C responds, leaning forward and bowing deeper as instructed.
“There you fucking go. Good girl.”
“Jesus Javonte H. Christ the Third,” Mahari whispers, eyes glued to the scene. Somewhere deep in her spirits she knew this nigga was nasty. But the aggression in his tone and the nearly deafening way he’s clapping into C throws her off anyway. She doesn’t know if the feeling rolling around in her belly is of jealousy or concern for the girl’s cervix. Or horniness. Her panties were damper than they were a few moments before.
“Daddy, I’m cumming,” C whines as Erik continues his assault on her gspot.
“Are you asking or are you telling me, Blossom?”
“Who the fuck is Blossom? I thought this bitch’s name was C,” Hari thinks aloud before one of C’s moans pulls her attention back to her phone screen.
“Daddy…Can I cum, please?”
“Nah, hold dat shit…”
“Hold it?!” Mahari exclaims. “You can do that?!”
“Uhn, fuck!” C whines. “Please.”
“Mmm, Daddy loves when you beg, Blossom. Say it again.”
All of Mahari’s muscles clench. Her mouth opening, ready to speak like he’d say it to her.
“Daddy please,” C pleads again, a powerful orgasm looming just below the surface of her belly.
“One last time.”
“I’m so close,” she sounds close to tears, her legs visibly shaking as she continues to meet him. Trust for trust.
“Cum for Daddy, Blossom. Make a mess on this dick,” Erik growls.
On command, a river erupts from between C’s thighs as she squirts on his lap. Her essence traveling down his strong, muscular thighs, collecting in a pool between his feet. C’s body collapses against the table that Erik has her bent forward on and the last thing Hari sees is him slapping his heavy dick on her clit before she reaches her breaking point.
“Such a good girl,” he coaxes, sliding back in balls deep.
“Uh uh, I gotta go,” Hari exclaims, exiting the video and clearing her browser history. No one needed to know what she had seen or the images her mind was producing in full HD, surround sound. She’s entirely too worked up and, if she stays in the house after watching that, she’s going to do something she shouldn’t.
“Let me go clean myself up and hit the damn gym. I need to work this off,” she says, dragging herself to her bathroom with a fresh pair of underwear and her workout gear.
Fridays were usually her days to work out anyway, as most of the campus population went home for the weekend. So she could get in and get out in under an hour.
Opting to jog to the gym as a means of getting her blood flowing, her twerk playlist plays loudly in her ears as her feet rhythmically hit the pavement. Her heart rate is accelerated, 128 BPM, but she has no idea if it’s because of the scene from before or the cardio. Either way, her muscles are pleasantly warm and ready to work. Cool breeze feeling wonderful as it kisses her cheeks and forehead in gentle sweeps.
Slowing down as she reaches the rec center, Mahari opens up her fitness app to select a workout. It has been a few days since she’s done any upper back so that was the mood for the day. She’s stacking exercises, getting ready to pull open the door in front of her, when she runs into what can only be described as a softly padded, warm brick wall.
“Oof!” she exclaims. The momentum of the crash sends her stumbling back, arms spiraling as she nearly falls on her ass before a pair of strong arms catch her, righting her on her feet. Her eyes shot up, lips ready to cuss out whoever had gotten in her way when she froze.
“Erik?”
This could not be happening.
“Ms. Owens,” he says with a smile like the situation was funny. “You really need to start looking where you’re going.”
Of all the people she could run into, it had to be this nigga and it had to be now. The sound of his voice triggered flashbacks of the way he absolutely wrecked C’s body in the library not even 24 hours before, and she didn’t need those feelings right now.
“Sorry,” she squeaks, her voice a lot quieter than she intends.
He licked those full lips and flashed his signature panty wetting smile.
“It’s cool,” he replies as he looks her up and down, taking in her outfit. “What you finna work on?”
“Huh?”
“You going to the gym, right? Or are you one of those girls who wears gym clothes for the hell of it?”
“Actually, I just remembered that I never emailed you those questions. I’ma go work on those.”
Erik pulls a face.
“You can send them later.” He smirks, reaching back to open the door. “You wanna work out together? I’m sure I can show you a lil more than you’re used to doing.”
You already have, her brain quips with another flash of earlier. Mahari shakes her head vehemently. There was no way in fuck she was about to watch this man get sweaty while grunting. She would not survive that shit.
“N-nah, it’s actually kinda crowded in there and I like to work out in peace.”
Erik peers into the gym window, not believing her.
“There’s all of three people in there, Khaleesi,” he teases.
Face crumpling into anger and embarrassment forgotten, Mahari steps forward to poke him in the chest.
“Nigga! Say it with me, Kha-mi-si! Aggy ass!”
Erik laughs deeply, gripping the hand she was attacking him with in his much bigger one and tugging her towards the doors.
“Aight, I heard you. C’mon.”
“I said no, Erik.”
He puts his hands up in defeat slowly, grin still firmly on his face.
“Aight, aight chill. You ain’t gotta send the dragons after me,” he teases again.
Mahari rolls her eyes so hard she nearly loses her contacts.
“Uh-huh. You’ll have your email in an hour.”
His mouth stretches into a wide smile.
“Bye Hari.”
“Bye nigga.”
Mahari jogs away from his chuckle annoyed. She’d have to come up with plan b. After she emails the fool.
“You wanna watch the next episode or you going to get food?”
Mahari blinks her drying eyes at that, Sanaa’s face coming into focus. Currently, the pair are about two hours deep in their usual Saturday afternoon Facetime session. The ending theme song to Black Clover plays in the background. But even that couldn’t drown out the loud gurgle Hari’s stomach gives at the mere mention of food.
Suddenly it’s raining purple and blue throw pillows, a result of Sanaa having fallen back on her bed in a fit of giggles.
“Yeah,” she says after a few moments, catching her breath. “You need to go feed the beast, Three.”
“Ugh, fiiiiineee. I think I have some leftover sashimi in the back of my fridge somewhere.”
“Now you and I both know yo ass gone be on the toilet twenty minutes after eating that shit,” Sanaa reminds her with a few more chuckles. “Why don’t you order from Lena’s? You know she gone hook you up.”
Saliva fills Mahari’s mouth instantly. It has been a minute since she’d had her fried chicken platter. She could almost taste the honeyed cornbread melting on her tongue now.
“See, this why I keep you around, Five,” she says as she pulls up Postmates.
“Wow. Because I remind you to eat? Not because I’ve known you since diapers or some shit.”
“Love youuuuu.”
“Uh-huh,” Sanaa says with a roll of her eyes. “You going to that party next week?”
Mahari’s thumbs froze. David hadn’t been the only one applying the pressure to her about being more social. Sanaa had been telling her since she had started school that she needed to branch out more. Stating that she worried about her being a recluse. It wasn’t that Mahari was afraid of meeting people or making new friends. People just annoyed the fuck out of her. Especially college people. She preferred to keep to herself than go out and entertain people who pretended to be the people that didn’t even like them. Imposter syndrome was real and rampant out in these Oakland streets.
“You mean today?” she asked with a conversational tone.
“…Huh!?” her best friend exclaimed after a preface of silence. “Holon, wayment. You mean that shit is today and you sitting in the house watching anime with me with Cheez Itz on ya tiddies?”
Mahari glances down at her chest and sure enough, there are remnants of her favorite afternoon snack on her chest. She clicks back over to their video call with a grin.
“They nice tiddies.”
“That is beside the damn point.”
“So I’m sitting here, right. Cheeze Itz on my tiddies.”
“Bitch if you don’t go get dressed.”
“I’m not going,” Mahari nearly pouts.
A smack rang through the air as Sanaa palmed her face aggressively.
“Why not?”
“Because David called me boring.”
“Because you are boring, hoe.”
Ouch? Honestly speaking though, she saw that coming.
“Wow, thanks Five. Let me go get my old ass in this bed. Maybe quilt a sweater or some shit.”
“That shit betta not be itchy either!”
Hari flips her the bird before sitting her MacBook Air on the bed as she rolls over to get up.
“And for the love of God, wash the Cheez It dust off ya tiddy!” Sanaa calls after her.
“Yes, ma!”
Trudging over to her closet for something to wear, she pushes passed the maxi dresses and skirts. It was warm out today but that didn’t mean that nigga deserved to see her in that state. The pinch was sacred and none of these niggas would see it from her.
“Good. Put that grey jumper on. It brings ya ass out.”
Hari’s hands were actually hovering over that exact piece of clothing. Sanaa was right, it did make her ass look perky.
“I hate you so much,” Mahari mutters, pulling it off the hanger and turning towards the bathroom.
“Mwah. I’ll be here when you get out.”
“Mmmhmm.”
The shower, while not long as she would like, was still very languid. Mahari indulges herself in the short time. Lathering her Rose de Grasse body wash over her skin before sealing it with some Tom Ford body oil. She may not come from wealth, but her mother has taught her the value in splurging in the right things to make her feel more elevated. Skin care being one of them.
She steps out the bathroom fully dressed close to twenty minutes later after brushing her teeth and washing her face once more.
“You finna beat that face again?” Sanaa teases not even looking up from where she’s once again drawing. The girl had the nerve to call her a workaholic.
“Mind ya business,” Mahari tosses even as she sits down in front of her vanity. She’s proud to say she breezes through her everyday face with ease.
“I haven’t washed my hair so it’s going in a ponytail,” Hari fusses, throwing on her OVO dad hat.
“Don’t forget ya glasses, old lady!” Sanaa reminds, laughingly.
“Shut up! My new contacts will be here Monday, thank you very much!”
“Are they green? Please tell me they aren’t green.”
“Something wrong with my color of choice?”
“Not when we talking about a shirt, shoes, or even wall paint. Iono know why you feel the need to still wear colored contacts. Ain’t nothing wrong with ya brown eyes girl.”
Oh no, not this again.
“They’re my aesthetic,” Mahari responds dryly.
“And so is Cheeze Itz tiddies apparently. Anywhore, you look good. Put them Nike slides I got you on.”
Mahari rolls her eyes but still pulls the white Liberty Print Duos out of their box dutifully, slipping them on. She wiggles her white-painted toes. She’d forgotten how comfy they are.
“Anyone ever tell you that you a bossy hoe?”
“Every day.”
Hari finishes primping, completing the look with a final swipe of her Fenty Beauty lipstick. She chose to keep her lip neutral, opting for the shade Spanked, a dusty rose pink.
“Somebody tryna get spanked by her favorite teacher,” Sanaa grins while giving Hari a final once over.
“Say one more word and I’ma start taking applications for a new best friend,” Hari threatens, sticking her tongue out childishly.
“Girl bye, I’m irreplaceable. Now go shake ya ass on Monkey Man. I’ll be waiting by the phone to hear all the juicy details.”
“There won’t be any juicy details to tell, but go off,” Hari replies. She tucks her phone into the pocket of the white lightweight Nike Swoosh jacket and makes her way downstairs.
“This is a nice pocket,” Sanaa jokes. “Much nicer than the back pocket of ya jeans.”
“Bye Five!” Hari grins as she ends the call with a tap of her Airpod and starts her walk towards sorority row, where the party was being held.
As much as Hari had thought the buzz around the party was a little over-dramatized, it turns out she was wrong. As she weaves her way through the ever-increasing throngs of people, her anxiety begins to creep up on her. Mahari has always been a bit of a claustrophobe ever since her cousin had locked her in a closet for close to two hours when she was only four. Big crowds and small dark spaces were the bane of her existence and this was proving to be a very very big turn out.
By the time she had made it to what looked like the entry, Mahari was ready to turn around and go the fuck back home having been bumped by more people than she could count.
“Excuse you,” she nearly shouts at one girl who smacked her with her obviously fake Fendi purse.
“You excused,” the wench calls back without even turning around, her friends snickering loudly as they continue their journey.
“Oh nah, fuck this,” Mahari fumes, turning on her heels to go back the way she came. This shit was officially canceled for her.
“Hari!” David calls from somewhere in the crowd. She curses under her breath before turning to walk in the direction of his voice. He meets her halfway, grabbing her hand and escorting her through the entrance.
“Told you I do fun things,” Hari jokes as they walk towards the Alpha house.
“Uh huh. It looks like you were about to go back home when I called your name,” David says, nudging her arm playfully.
Hari shook her head, smiling. She had been had, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.
“Nah, I was actually about to chin check shorty for bumping me with that fake ass Fendi, but I ain’t tryna get kicked outta school.”
David laughs at the thought of Mahari actually fighting someone.
“Let me find out little Mahari Urkle got some savage in her,” he jokes again. Hari stops mid stride, staring up at him like he had just insulted her. If she were being honest, he had.
“Nigga did you really just call me Mahari Urkle? I outta pop you!” she grins, just as they reach the stairs of the frat house. Hari’s heart nearly jumps out of her chest when she sees Erik standing at the foot of the steps chatting with one of David’s prophytes. She clenches her thighs as she takes in his relaxed state. The black Nike dri-fit shirt clings to his body like a second skin, while light jeans and a crisp pair of Retro 13s complete the look. His dreads are neatly braided back and his signature gold frames shine in the street lights.
“Oh shit, you finally got her to come to something! Wassup Mahari?” Chauncey calls out, briefly interrupting the conversation he and Erik were having. Erik looks in her direction, flashing her a sly grin.
“Hey Chauncey. I came on my own accord, thank you very much,” she says with a sweet smile.
“Wassup, Khaleesi. I still ain’t get that email,” Erik teases, his grin stretching wider across his face.
“How many times must I tell you this? It’s Kha-mi-si, teacher nigga. And I’ma send it.”
“Tonight?”
“Sure. I’ll do it right after this.”
“Leave her alone, E,” Chauncey laughs and slaps Erik’s chest lightly with the back of his hand. “It’s a weekend and, as much as you like to think you are, you ain’t her teacher. Lighten up.”
“Only thing I’m finna light up is yo ass if you touch me again,” Erik scowls brushing invisible dirt off his shirt.
The scene fills Mahari with a sense of dejavu and she briefly recalls the night she met Chauncey for the first time.
It was last spring, when David finally crossed the sands into Alphaland. He had been talking about it since their freshman year and his hard work had finally paid off.
“Dinisha! Dinisha!” a voice calls from somewhere behind her.
Hari is in the middle of hugging David and handing him his probate gift when a hand taps her shoulder.
“Dinisha, I know you heard me calling you,” the stranger says, catching Hari off guard. “Quit playing.”
“I’m sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else,” Hari corrects him.
His skin was light caramel and the little bit of scruff on his beard made him look slightly older than he was. He was dressed in all black, a fitted shirt and slacks accented with gold pinstripes and matching black and gold Versace loafers. He held a staff adorned with the letters A Phi A and a black and gold line jacket that read InPHInite InTAILegence completed the ensemble. He definitely fit the Alpha Man persona.
“Big C, this is the girl I was telling you about,” David grins proudly, throwing an easy arm around her shoulders and turning her fulls towards him. “Hari, this is my prophyte Chauncey. Chauncey, this is my homegirl Mahari.”
Chauncey’s face stretches into a wide, boylike grin.
“Oh this is Mahari,” he steps up closer, gripping her outstretched hand to shake. Mischievousness twinkles in his brown eyes that makes Hari smile at him without realizing. “I don’t know what kind of spell you got on lil bro, but he won’t shut up–”
“Oh kaaaay! That’s enough introductions,” David interrupts pulling Hari back to him as he looks back down at her. “You coming to the afterparty?” he asks hopefully.
“I would, but I’ve gotta study. Maybe next time,” she says. The probate already has her social meter at max capacity. She couldn’t handle even another 30 minutes of this.
“Translation: she’s just not that into you,” a deep voice calls from over Chauncey’s shoulder.
“Play nice, E,” a femine voice chastises right after.
The trio turn to the sound of the two voices and Mahri takes in a deep, quiet breath. Erik Stevens in all his tall, pretty nigga glory is walking towards them with an equally pretty, light skinned girl in an AKA jacket.
Although they weren’t acquaintances, nearly all of the female population at Oakland University knew who he was. Mahari was very much included in the statistic having given him an eyefuck or two every time she’d seen him. Hari isn’t shy but she’s also not a thirsty hoe. She figured if she was going to meet him it would happen organically or not at all. Looks like her moment had finally come.
“What? I’m just letting my boy here know what’s real,” Erik reasons.
“Nah, you’re being an ass, something you do best,” Pretty light skinned says. She gives Hari a sweet smile before extending her hand. “I’m Dinisha, nice to meet you,” she states.
“Likewise,” Mahari smiles back.
“And this peanut headed ass nigga is Erik,” Chauncey jokes.
“Wassup,” Erik nods at her with a smile.
Mahari bites the inside of her cheek gently to make sure the moment is real. His voice is a little deeper than she expected and he had dimples. Her weakness.
“Mahari. Nice to meet you.”
David snaps his fingers in her face to bring Hari back to the present.
“You good? You spaced out a bit there.”
“Oh, yeah I’m fine. What did you ask me?”
“I said who is Khamisi?”
Hari stood staring at him with the blankest of faces. Was he serious? They had known each other how long and he was asking this dumbass question.
“Me,” she states plainly, giving him an annoyed look.
“Your name is Mahari,” David says slowly, as if he was talking to a toddler. “Where does Khamisi come in?”
“Ooh Lord, the pretty ones are always the dumb ones,” Chauncey chuckles as he takes in the look on Mahari’s face.
“This bitch,” she mumbles under her breath, causing Erik to snicker. “My name is Mahari Khamisi Owens. I told you that when we first met, remember?”
“Oh yeah, you did tell me that. The shit is a mouthful.” David glances down at Mahari’s hips with a lick of his lips. I’m sure that ain’t the only thing that is, he thinks. “I bet that means some shit like beautiful or goddess or some shit,” he says, in a feeble attempt to rectify the situation.
“That shit literally means ‘born on a Thursday,’” Erik interrupts with a not so discreet eye roll.
The statement catches Hari off guard, seeing as how not many people knew that. Even she herself didn’t know until a conversation with her mother about the origin of her name back in eight grade. She blinks over at him to find him looking at David smugly.
“Oh shit, you’re African?” Chauncey asks, now intrigued by Hari’s heritage.
“My father is, but the name itself is–”
“It’s Indian,” Erik interrupts again, causing all three heads to jerk in his direction. Hari was now even more attracted to him than she was before. Not only did he have a well structured face with an incredible stroke game, he was also knowledged in other cultures, something not often seen in guys her age.
David notices the twinkle in Hari’s eyes as she stares up at Erik while Chauncey begins to question him on exactly how he knew the meaning and origin of her name. His blood begins to bubble just below the surface. This was his girl and he’d be damned if he let some Dr. Umar Johnson with dreads nigga swoop in and snatch her away from him.
“You wanna go get some food, Hari?” he asks to change the subject, reaching over to take her hand.
“Nah, I’m good,” she states, drawing her hand back to rest in the pocket of her jacket. She was still watching Erik, enraptured in the way his lips moves. She wondered briefly what other knowledge he possessed.
The exchange doesn’t go unnoticed, however. Chauncey chuckles lightly at the way David’s face falls when Mahari gently turns him away. His neo was still wet behind the ears when it came to how to get a girl. He would throw him a bone, but watching the little nigga stumble his way through this was proving to be a little entertaining.
Besides, Chauncey thinks as he takes in Mahari’s unabashed staring of his best friend, shorty looks like she has her eyes on a much bigger prize.
“So this where y’all hiding at,” Dinisha’s voice calls from somewhere behind Hari. Her curly fro was pulled into a neat pineapple, while her white AKA jacket covered the loose fitting pink maxi dress.
“Wassup D,” Chaucey waves, noticing the way her smile curls into a full out grin when Erik flashes his fronts.
“Hey E,” she calls, adding a little extra honey to her tone hoping he’d notice.
These niggas a whole damn alphabet crew, Hari thought to herself.
Erik did notice the change in Dinisha’s tone, stretching his hand out to pull her into a tight embrace.
“Wassup,” he said with a smirk. “You smell good. What you wearin?”
Dinisha giggles up at him, running the tips of her coffin nails across his pectoral.
“What you mean? That’s my natural smell,” she winks playfully.
“Girl that’s Gucci Guilty, stop lying!” Chauncey calls out. “Out here tryna front like niggas don’t know fragrances.”
“Ugh! Shut up Chauncey!” Dinisha whines like a bratty teenager. “You always gotta throw your two-cents in!”
The green-eyed monster started to bubble in the pit of Hari’s belly uncomfortably. Dinisha, while nice, was the socialite that Hari sometimes wished she was. Hari envied her outgoing personality and ability to flirt with Erik openly and without inhibitions. She didn’t hate the girl. Dinisha was always nothing but nice each time they’d encountered each other. But it was times like this, watching her stand under Erik’s arm while she questioned him about when he was going to call her that jealousy coated her spirit from head to toe.
“Ya know, on second thought,” Hari says, grabbing David by the arm, “I am kinda hungry.” Without another word, the pair make their way to the food table, leaving the Alphabet Gang to talk amongst themselves.
“You aight,” David asks her gently, studying her face. Something was off with her. In the three years he’d know Mahari, she rarely ever changed her mind that quickly. David glances back from where they came to find Chauncey waving at him with a smile. And Erik looking at the back of Hari’s head confused.
“I haven’t eaten in a while and I tend to get a bit cranky when I’m hungry,” Mahari states.
But you just said you were good, her conscious goads.
Bitch mind your business!
Even though he’s still slightly confused, David isn’t going to miss the opportunity to have all to himself.
“Aight.”
The pair fall into a gentle conversation about school and their upcoming project.
“You finished your thesis paper yet?” Mahari asks around a sip of Ape Juice. She grimaces at the golden drink swirling in her solo cup. “This does not taste like apple juice,” she fusses as the liquid burns her chest.
“It’s strong,” David chuckles at the adorable way her nose crinkles before sighing. “Nah I still have like five more pages to write.”
“Nigga, its an eight page minimum. The fuck have you been doing?”
“That,” he chuckles, looking over at his line brothers as they gathered around, waiting for Make It Rain to start. “Hold this for me?” David asks, handing Mahari his cup before he shimmies out of his jacket, placing it on her shoulders.
“Oh,” she says startled by the action and the way his cologne wafts up to her nose. “Okay.”
The song starts and a slew of Alphas and AKAs swarm around the DJ booth. Hari smiles as she watches the way David kicks his leg in the air during the A-Train.
“Lord, they let this nigga have the whistle,” she chuckles to herself.
She notices that Dinisha has joined the stroll line, taking her place behind David as the train makes its way around the party.
Mahari feels eyes on her and glances up, only to meet Erik’s gaze. She blushes, giving him a shy wave before turning her attention back to the stroll line. After about five minutes, David breaks line and makes his way back to her, a wide grin stretched across his sweaty face.
“I can’t believe they let you have the whistle,” she laughs when he’s within earshot.
“Cuz I’m that nigga,” he says proudly, beating his chest like a gorilla for emphasis.
“Okay Monkey Man,” she laughs while fixing herself a plate.
Mahari has to admit, they went all out for this event. There were skirt steaks, chicken and shrimp kabobs, sweet corn on the cob, ribs, and for the basic niggas, regular hot dogs and hamburgers.
She loads her plate up just as her stomach gives another angry growl.
“I take it someone’s not themself when they’re hungry,” David pokes her belly playfully.
“Do that again and I swear I’ma pop you!” Hari laughs between bites of shrimp.
“That’s twice you done said you gone to pop me girl. Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“The third time is gonna be the one, aggy ass nigga.”
Both Hari and David were surprised at how much she’d loosened up with a bit of liquid courage. Her mind drifted away from Erik long enough to actually enjoy spending time with David. Although sometimes aggy, Mahari could easily say that David was one of her closest friends. He had been there for her at times when she needed him and she appreciates him for being as persistent as he was in getting her here. She was really enjoying herself. Mahari drains her cup with a grateful, private smile towards him.
That is, until he tried to pull her to dance.
“C’moooon, it’s just one dance.”
“David, I can’t dance,” Hari pleads. The truth was, the alcohol was making Hari’s social anxiety and claustrophobia ten times worse. And, although she was enjoying herself, the constant bumping of people and ever growing crowd was starting to weigh on her psyche. It was time to go home.
David pulls her arm a little too hard for her liking.
“Why you actin’ like this? I know damn well you lying about not being able to dance too. With them nice ass hips.”
Mahari balks at him, snatching her arm away. She could tell by the glassy look in his low eyes he was feeling himself and the drink way more than he was a few moments before. Ire grew in her belly at his audacity and she takes a step back from him.
“David, I said no!” she yells, louder than she intended, attracting attention from those around them.
“She said no,” Erik barks lowly, wedging his body between the two. Hari was both relieved and intrigued that he had appeared just when she needed him.
Where did this nigga come from?
“Nigga where did you even come from?” David takes the words straight from her brain, taking a step back.
“Don’t matter, she said no. Get your drunk ass on somewhere,” Erik spits before he turns back to Mahari. “You good?”
Mahari only nods, thanking God that she put on a thong otherwise the whole party would see just how good she really was.
“Aight,” Erik says, pulling David’s jacket off her shoulders, before thrusting it into his chest without so much as a glance to see if he had it. “You ready to go? I’ll walk you.”
Hari nods again, following him back to the entrance of the party as she glances around. They’d garnered a lot of attention during the seven second spat. Multiple sets of eyes following them as they made their way through. Dinisha’s lustful as they track every dip in Erik’s step.
This bitch, Hari thinks bitterly.
Silence fills the first few minutes of their walk. Mahari lags back a few steps with her head dropped down, looking at her slides.
“Come up here where I can see you girl,” Erik calls back to her. “If someone else snatches yo ass up, how Ima know?”
A small smile curls at her lips and she takes a few bigger strides to catch up to the taller man.
“Shut up, beanstalk.”
You tryna climb? Erik thinks to himself before asking the question that was really looming in his mind.
“You need me or Chauncey to handle him?” he gruffs.
Mahari hesitates. While it would be funny to watch David sweat a little more under Erik’s gaze, she didn’t want to involve him any more than he already is.
“Nah. He was just tipsy. He’s not normally like that.”
“A lot of rapists aren’t ‘normally like that.’” Erik informs her, looking down at her sternly.
Mahari scowls at the thought. David wasn’t built like that.
“He’s not a rapist, he’s my friend.”
“A lot of rapists start off as friends,” Erik states plainly again.
“Erik chill. Like I said, I know him. He’s harmless.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“There goes that feistiness again I see,” Erik grins at her, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “What you was gonna do if I ain’t show up, hmm?”
“I can defend myself, thank you very much,” she snaps, her fingers still tightly clutching the pepper spray on her keychain. Sanaa had gifted it to her when she first moved on campus.
“Ain’t nobody gone catch my bestie lacking!” Hari smiles at the memory.
That brought Erik a little relief.
“Aight,” he says, stopping in front of her building. “This you, right?”
“Yeah, but how you know?”
“This is the upperclassmen dorm, duh,” he counters.
“Oh,” she whispers dumbly. The butterflies gone just as fast as they arrived. Why would a nigga like him track where she lived? The alcohol had her buggin. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“You going to work on them questions?” he smirks.
“Nigga why you so pressed about my questions?”
“Cuz I know ya slick ass ain’t really got none,” he challenges, catching her off guard briefly.
Wow. Caught red handed.
“You just a fuckin’ know it all, aint you?”
“Takes one to know one,”
“Good night teacher nigga!”
“Good night Khaleesi.”
“It’s -”
“I know what it is, I just like calling you Khaleesi to fuck witchu.”
“Do I get to give you a nickname?” Mahari asks as he backs up, hands in his pockets.
“I thought it was teacher nigga?” he laughs.
“Yeah, but something else.”
“Well…,” Erik bites his lips, knowing he shouldn’t say what’s on the tip of his tongue but saying fuck it anyway. “It’s too early for you to call me Daddy, so how about Sir.”
“Nigga I am not calling you that!”
“Then Teacher Nigga it is. Lata Hari.”
Mahari watches his figure as it drifts away under the streetlights. Their exchange had somehow felt a little bit like flirting. She bites her lip gently as she fishes her keyfob out of her pocket and heads inside.
Maybe she’s a little more confident than she thought.
The rose colored wine swishes gently in her wine glass as Mahari twirls her wrists in a circle. She knows that drinking more alcohol after the ficaso that happened a few hours prior was not the best of decisions, but the bottle was leftover from the weekend before and she figures she may as well finish it. Plus Sanaa had started it when she opened her own bottle. She wasn’t finna let her nigga drink alone. That’s how alcoholics are born.
So, she sips her rose while she regaled her best friend with all of the “juicy details” that made up her early evening.
“See wench! I told you that there would be juice!”
That was about twenty minutes ago. Somehow, in her spree of terrible decision making, she ends up back on Erik’s OnlyFans. Though she’d promised herself she’d only watch one video, curiosity is scratching at the back of her skull once more. She still hadn’t made an account, using that as a means of convincing herself that she wouldn’t be there for long.
As she scrolls the timeline, the first post catches her attention.
Check your inbox, it might be some dick in there. If it is, show ya boy some love 💦🍆
“This nigga sliding in DMs now?” Hari giggles around a mouthful of wine.
“Wait, what is this?” she thinks aloud, noticing the blue message notification icon at the bottom of the screen. Hari’s palms become sweaty and her face hot. What if he knew it was her? Had she really been had after viewing only one video?
Bitch, you’re literally a username and some numbers. Relax.
The alcohol had her more paranoid than usual. She takes a few deep breaths before clicking the notification.
“Nigga you said some dick. Not three helpings! What in the Carol Baskins!”
Mahari’s eyes bulged as she watched his wide hand stroke his shaft slowly. Erik’s big body looks like it’s sitting on the edge of a bed. Thick thighs spread wide, giving him room to move and tug. His thick member was well lubricated, and the vein running along the underside throbs with every pass.
Wine nearly dribbles over her lip as Hari follows the movements closely. She has never seen a dick in this HD quality before. And, although she doesn’t know what one feels like, her body heats anyway. A natural reaction to the scene before her.
“Either I’m drunk or his dick got bigger…”
“Wassup baby?” His thick voice calls out making her eyes jump up to his full lips. The room was dimly lit with a soft blue light, making his melanin pop severely.
He grunts heavily, lifting his dick slightly towards the camera, giving her a good view of his testicles.
“This nigga balls look heavy as shit,” Mahari mutters.
“Been waiting for you,” Erik nearly moans.
Mahari is acutely reminded that she’s only wearing a t-shirt on her leather couch. She coils her legs together tightly, trying to staunch the liquid seeping from her body.
“For me?” she asks weakly, eyes still glued to the way he handles himself.
“Yeah you,” he smirks, cockily. Pulling that bottom lip through his teeth. His hand moves higher. Palming the thick, purpling head of his dick with one hand, while the other joins it. Moving counterclockwise smoothly and unrushed. The nigga was taking his time on himself.
Imagine what he does to others.
“This nigga is using two hands? Ima have to throw in a foot if I wanna compete with this shit.”
Hari’s mouth waters as she catches a glimpse of precum oozing out of the tip, his swift right hand catching it. Spreading it through his fingers as he continues to work himself over.
“You see this?” he asks, releasing his dick. Mahari nearly squeals as it slaps back against his stomach with a loud smack. “All this shit for you, baby.”
“I wanna swallow his –”
Hari catches herself just as Erik’s voice fills her ears once more. He was moaning now, his voice traveling straight to her core. She could tell by his quickening pace he was getting closer and she didn’t know whether she wants to close the app, her eyes, or open her legs.
“Ugh, fuck,” he whispers. “You ready for this nut, baby?”
Was she?
“Y-yes,” she whispers, embarrassed. It feels like he’s right in front of her. As if she could reach out and run her fingers down the prominent cobbles of his stomach.
“Speak up, Daddy couldn’t hear you.”
“Yes Daddy,” she whispers again, louder.
Her attention is solely on him as his stomach flexes so tightly she’s convinced it must be painful. Erik groans loudly as thick streams of cum shoot out onto the camera lens.
His voice is like gravel when he speaks through his orgasm. The gritty feeling covering her body as she pants like she was the one working him over, not the other way around.
“Uhn, there you go, Good Girl. All of Daddy’s thick nut. Just for you.”
Mahari throws her phone onto the soft rug near her. Body warm and rushing. Why the hell did she subscribe to his damn channel? She didn’t need this shit in her life.
“Did you enjoy the show, ma?”
“No!” Mahari screams, throwing her pillow at the phone. Erik’s deep chuckle echoed from underneath, mocking her.
She was definitely about to make a profile.
Erik leans back in his office chair, patiently waiting for the video to finish loading. His mind clouded with thoughts of Mahari, more specifically the way her eyes widen when frightened. His dick twitches at the thought of her making the same face while he etches his name in her walls, claiming it as his and his alone.
The thought honestly frightens him if he’s being honest. It’s been a long time since he’s thought of anyone in that capacity. His mind solely on finishing his degree. Any physical needs met through his newly found hobby. But everytime she looks up at him with that curious, innocent stare, the urge to sully her grows.
Erik shakes the thought from his head. For all he knows, Mahari is more virginal than he’s even imagining. She didn’t need a big dick nigga who isn’t ready to commit coming in to fuck shit up. He’s more than aware that needs to follow own his logical thoughts and step away from her, but watching lil niggas like David make her uncomfortable has his protective instincts flaring up. She was too trusting. He’d have to watch out for her.
You mean keep her from yourself? His subconscious snickers.
It’s true. He had slipped up and asked her to call him Daddy. Not only that but he’d given away that he knew which dorm she stayed in. Sure it was an upperclassman dorm, but there were four in that area. It wasn’t like he was stalking the girl, no one had him pressed like that. But she’d always come from that general direction. Anyone with basic deductive reasoning skills could have put that shit together.
Keep lying to ya self, bruh.
Erik swipes his hand across his forehead roughly. He had to be more careful.
Finally, the video completes its upload. He selects a few users at random to share it with. He liked doing things like this. It kept the page fresh and his viewers guessing. He couldn’t wait to see the feedback he would get from this one.
He is just closing his laptop when an incoming text from Dinisha pulls his attention away. His heart kicks up as he opens it. Attached is a link to one of his videos on Twitter playing back at him. The three dotted bubble signifying that she had a lil something to say about it.
So she had figured him out, huh? He thought cockily. Now what?
I wanna be ya next costar.
Well…he wasn’t expecting that. Erik huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he put the phone down on the desk and headed towards the bathroom to shower.
Dinisha was cool. They had been acquaintances for a few years now. She was attractive and always managed to find him at any event they were both at. He’d consider the idea.
A plethora of messages awaited him as he returned, the towel slung low around his hips, water still sliding across his chain. Most of them were thirsty but one actually caused him to chuckle.
User02091987: NIGGA I ALMOST BROKE MY GHATDAMN PHONE MESSIN WIT YO ASS!