These Are My Craigslist Confessions
Gather around and hearken back to a time before the internet was policed, a time when online freedom was unbridled and unchecked. The time I am referring to is when the Craigslist Personals were a free-for-all fuck fest. Granted, you definitely had to sift through your fair share of bots, catfish, and weirdos to get to the good stuff, but when you did… Oh lawd have mercy. The tale takes place on a cold winter night in the Mile High City. I was browsing the “W4M” (Women for Men) category when I came across a title that peaked my interest: “Looking 4 Company Tonite” The location was within 5 miles of me and it included a picture that seemed halfway decent. I figured what the hell and responded with the required criteria. Now, Craigslist was the epitome of a waiting game. Sometimes you would hear back instantly, but more often than not, you would hear back hours or even days later. Privy to the game, I returned to browsing the ads and smoking potent sativa. Not 10 minutes passed before my phone vibrated, signaling a reply to my CL message. “Hey, I like your response. I’m at _____ E. City Center Dr. How far away are you?” I fist pumped the air as I responded, full of glee that it was a real person. As I referenced Google Maps, I realized the woman was located across the street from my complex. After a couple more exchanges, I agreed to meet her in 20 minutes at her apartment. I packed a joint and a lighter and zipped up my jacket before setting off into the bitterly cold night in the pursuit of pussy. A quick 25yards and I was across the 4-lane street. My heart rate quickened and I could feel my vision narrow as I climbed the stairs and approached the door. I knocked and she opened the door immediately, as if she had been waiting at the peephole. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I took stock of the woman. She was about 5’4” and weighed maybe 120lbs. Slim and slender with nice curves and a bright smile. Her caramel skin glistened in the light and as she turned to allow me past her, I couldn’t help but notice her Allen Iverson neck braids. She wasted no time with small talk or pleasantries, instead leading me directly to the bedroom. I removed my parka and sat on the edge of the bed, joint in one hand and lighter in the other. “You said you liked to smoke, so I figured…” I stated as she checked the blinds and locked the door. “Oh yes thank you!” She exclaimed as I lit the joint and passed it to her. After the obligatory puff-puff, she turned to me and asked “So are you like single or…?” I responded “Yes I am, just me myself and I. Are you?” I didn’t really care if she was or not, I had no intentions of becoming involved in her life, but I asked out of courtesy. “Well, would it matter if I told you my boyfriend was at work right now?” she stated feebly, almost afraid of what I might say. Clearly she had never dealt with someone as sick as me, because I fired back “Out of sight, out of mind. I’m not here to judge anybody’s activities.” She visibly relaxed after my statement and we finished the joint between jokes and laughs. She repeatedly told me that I resembled Deray Davis, a comparison I wholeheartedly disagree with but was not willing to argue to the point of eliminating pussy from the equation. After the joint was extinguished, she took a deep breath, smiled broadly, and stated “Well, this what we came here for. May I?” She gestured towards my pants with her hands open, palms up. “Absolutely,” I muttered as I rose slightly off the bed and she removed my pants. I’m not sure if it was the weed, the risk involved, or the cold night whistling through the corners of the window frames, but shawty went to work. My legs were shaking like a newborn giraffe as I sat on the edge of the bed and struggled to stay present in the universe. At some point, she came up for breath. The edges of her cornrows glimmered with sweat and she breathed heavily while smiling “This is fun!” I was not complaining at all, but it definitely made me wonder what else she had been exposed to, or not exposed to, to consider punishing her own throat as “fun.” As I smiled and nodded, she wiped the saliva from her lips and asked me with a straight-face “Do you want to have sex, too?” My mind spiraled rapidly as I struggled to cope with the weight of what she just said. Did she think I came over strictly to share weed and get head? Was that normally what she expected? Did she really think I was going to bruise her esophagus but leave her cervix unscathed? I steadied myself with my feet on the ground and my left hand on her shoulder, as she knelt between my legs. “Yes, I do,” I stated as I looked her directly in her eyes. I felt her body shudder and she smiled back at me before rising and assuming the position on the bed. On all 4’s she looked back at me over her shoulder, back arched and ass poked out, “Does this work for you?” I nodded slyly as I knelt behind her on the bed. She was small, I am large, a situation presented itself but we made it happen. Ah, teamwork. After she had her share of cheek clapping, she transitioned to her back on the bed. We didn’t say too much, moreover we relied on each other’s body language to maximize mutual enjoyment in our shared tryst. As the moment of truth neared, she spoke up “Just don’t cum inside me, my boyfriend will know.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the sickness in that statement. Here I was hitting someone else’s girl raw, in their bed, in their apartment, and now she was concerned with keeping things a secret. The irony! I managed to grit out a “You betcha” as I sprayed her chest and stomach. Her dark nipples contrasted sharply with the seminal fluid that now coated them. As soon as I finished, she glanced at the clock and said “He should be getting off soon so that was perfect timing.” I gathered my possessions and got dressed. As I followed her to the door, she said “Take my number down and we can do this again if you can keep a secret Deray Davis.” I laughed at the Deray Davis reference and allowed her to save herself in my phone. Then I gave the internationally recognized head nod salutation and embarked into the icy winter evening. As I navigated black ice, snow drifts, and poor drivers, I reminisced on the feelings of clapping her cheeks from behind as her AI braids bounced off her neck. I rounded the corner and entered my building, dusting the snow off of my shoulders. I unlocked my door and entered my apartment. A quick hit of the bong and I began to disrobe. I had to shower and change and I only had 20 minutes until my girlfriend got home from work. It seemed fitting that my first sexual encounter with a black girl would have me running late. May the sickness prevail, evermore!