Man of Steel

From the outside, my life is perfect. I’m 6’1, 210 pounds of muscle, straight teeth, I always smell like the Axe aisle, and I’ve got a banging girl who lets her girlfriend “play” with us. For 25, I have got it going on. Plus, I was recently promoted to Jr. partner at my firm, banking me more bucks, a BMW in the driveway, and three legal assistants that answer my every beckon call – any whims and desires. Hey, a man has to eat.

         What could be better?

         Truth.

         Honesty.

         Novel concepts.

         Lying to oneself is worse than lying to a priest in confession. And, I have been suffering in my own personal purgatory for the last several years.

         Rashawana, my girl, has been good to me. She treats me like a king, cooks like my mama, and gets down like a Vegas stripper. She’s super fit, tight little abs, and has ass that can make God desperate for a grab. We’ve had a good run, but I know that girl’s thinking of serious, marital commitments.

         But, that’s a step this brother can’t take.

         The voice in my head demands, Come out with your hands up, but I can’t quite muster the nerve to actually tell her. It’ll destroy her. Ruin her future, sever my career, derail my success.

         How can I hide it, though? I’m not being true to myself or doing right by her.

         I’m in love with someone else and have been for sometime. The first time I saw those creamy, porcelain skinned arms, draped in a pink camisole, wide, yet inexperienced peachy mouth, and smooth chest, my heart dropped and I know what I had with Rashawna was a lie. My head, my heart, and my cock zeroed in on one target – my four year old niece.