Xavier Press Play
XAVIER
PRESS PLAY
My hand slid up her back, caressing her soft skin. The way she straddled my lap while glancing down at me made a nigga feel like a king. Phoebe’s body rocked back and forth as she fucked on a nigga.
“Shit,” I grunted.
Her head rolled in a full circle before she leaned forward, arching her back perfectly. My hand came down, slapping the side of her ass. “Just like that,” I told her.
Rock forward, bounce back.
Her eyes devoured me as she rode my dick like she was riding a horse.
Rock forward, bounce back.
I smacked her ass again, then spread her ass cheeks. The sound of mac and cheese filled the room as she and I held our private sex session.
Rock forward, bounce back.
I used my hand to guide her hips. I lifted her before bringing her down slowly. “Goddamn, shit feels crazy, gang.”
“Shhh,” she purred.
Lift, rock, down.
A sharp, “Ooo,” fell from her lips.
I reminded her, “Nah, shhh, remember?”
I captured one of her pierced nipples in my mouth and sucked all on that muhfucka. My hip movement matched hers as we began burning a hole in her bed.
“Ah, God!” she cried.
“Yeah, show a nigga how you fuck.”
Lift, rock, down.
“Zay, I’m cummin’.”
Lift, rock, down.
My head shot up to the sound of something slamming onto a table.
Slam!
When I opened my eyes, my professor’s face was directly in front of me. “Mr. Keyton, class is over.”
I glanced around to find the classroom empty.
After my late-night session with Phoebe, a nigga was tired as hell.
When linking up with her, the idea was never to smash but truly to get to know her.
Being in her bed was like a taste of heaven.
The only thing was that we had decided that sex was something she and I would touch only when needed.
Did I like her? Yes. However, we both had boundaries, and a relationship was something neither of us was looking for.
I had me a roster; she was just an added touch.
I wasn’t sure if she had one, but I wouldn’t have doubted it.
The pussy she served me had me so fucked up, I didn’t even remember going to class.
I refocused on my professor and said, “My bad.”
“Yeah, your bad. You have a paper due in two weeks. I recommend asking your peers or checking the board for details. Why are you here if you’re not going to take this seriously?
I heard about your behavior last year. Your scholarship covers sports, but remember, there is no “sports” without good grades and no success without education.
From one brother to another, they’re watching you and waiting for you to fail.
Many Black Americans have achieved success, but not enough of them.
If students continue like this, it will never be sufficient.
You need to discover your purpose because right now, you’re just another statistic occupying space that could go to students eager to be here. ”
I ran my hands down my face because a lecture on my life was the last thing I needed.
I knew I needed to focus and find my purpose, but it was the pressure of everyone around me.
They wanted me to forget the thing I loved most and focus on something I wasn’t really interested in.
I just needed some time to clear my head and think, and I couldn’t do that with everyone constantly bothering me.
I grabbed my things and left the class. I walked out into the yard and noticed a booth I had never seen on campus before. For a second, I thought it was a group of Black Panthers, but it wasn’t. They held a small group around them. My interest was piqued as I moved closer.
“Peace, God, peace,” they said to the Black men who were walking by.
I stopped to listen to them talk. “Can anyone tell me what today’s mathematics is?” one guy asked with a New York accent.
Everyone stood there, clueless until a girl walked up. “Peace, wisdom, and knowledge. Wisdom is the reflection of knowledge. You can have both, but do you know when to use them?” she said.
“Earth, I see you,” he replied to her, then directed his attention to the small crowd. “You hear Earth. She’s speaking truth. Now, I’m not asking everyone to understand, but I’m here to teach you.”
I took in what he was saying as I backed away. “The Black man is God!” I heard him yell. “Aye, brother! What’s your name?” he asked, pointing and looking directly at me.
To see someone my age speaking as if he lived through it all was different. Speaking about knowledge, peace, God, and all types of self-reflection affirmations was new to me. I must have been taking too long to answer because he approached me.
“I’m Shakim. I can see you don’t understand. No pressure, but when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I’m a student just like you,” he finished, turned around, and tried to catch the next person who passed by.