Undercover Player

Undercover Player

@adewus4real #WhatTheHeckMan 

“Why are these women so loud?”

I thought to myself as I continued…

“Ahhhhh….. Keep going….. Right there!!!!”

She knocked over my remote control sitting on the edge of my bed.

Smh, what is this filth? It’s not only right there, it’s back there. Nonsense!  And why all the noise… just yelling sha!

I think I speak for all men when I say, women don’t know the amount of physical work it takes to please them; sexually and in all other aspects.

Anyways, I looked back into her eyes and began to pump. Hands around her throat mildly choking her, it was in and out. Deeper with each thrust and much harder intensity, I was going to unload this tank inside her. Now my penis is not the size of a tank (I really wish it was. I would cause damage) but it’s not. She was still moaning; eyes rolled back into her head, gasping for air as she dug her fingers into my biceps… I was going to cum! A few more thrusts and there it was, all over her pierced belly, I sprayed it on her. My right hand still on my member and my left hand cupped over her right breast. I felt like I was having a seizure as I busted it all on her. I absolutely love sex and the attention it brings me but I hate my cum face. Ugh!

I got off her and put my boxers back on. I sat at the edge of the bed and picked up my phone. 3 missed calls from the Asst. Pastor… Fuck!

I turned to her saying, “Get up and get ready!”

I was late for church.

.    .    .    .    .

I was only 12 minutes late and this woman was still tripping. Ever since they promoted my mother to Asst. Pastor, she’s been on my case. I had forgotten that I was in charge of Sunday school that morning. My bible was still in my car so I ran outside the church to grab it when I noticed her;  the girl I was just boning at my apartment. She walked into church looking stunning as usual. Her dad and my mom worked together in the church; he was the Men’s President. We act like we don’t know each other in public so a quick eye and she kept walking on, as planned.

Sunday school went smoothly. I’ve perfected my way of doing this. Today was going to be my last Sunday here at this church. I was relocating as my job had posted me to a new branch about 2 hours north of here. I can’t wait to get out of this place!

I was scrolling through my phone and loosely listening to the sermon delivered by Pastor Timothy when it dawned on me. I spoke to a lot of women but very little men.

I tried to key back into the sermon with a quick prayer asking God to take away all the filth running through my head. Yet, I continued to lick my lips as I stared at this girl. I knew doing that shit got her wet while she sat in her choir clothes. Sorry! I couldn’t help it!

I thought I was coasting through this amazing day when I heard my phone whistle. The iconic and annoying Samsung whistle… It was her. It was loud enough for me to hear but quiet enough that nobody in the church heard it.

The message read,


Now that message, to the naked eye and a regular person would seem like a normal message but that was a woman’s message. It said so much in such few words.  It was clear that she was upset with me.

My mind began to wander. What might I have done? Did I fall asleep last night on the phone? No, I wasn’t even talking to her last night. I quickly checked my Twitter timeline… Did I tweet something? Did some lady tweet something at me? I came up with nothing and then I went through my phone again. It made sense now. I didn’t send her a good morning text. Sigh.

Now that may also seem like something trivial to have someone upset with you about and you’re right. It really is hard to keep up with all the people I have to send “Good morning” texts to. The number stands at 5.

My “true love” (long story but that’s why you’re reading right?)

My long distance friend (we really want to fuck but we live too far away)

My crazy one (in love with me but more in love with the D. I’ll never date her. CRAZY)

My weekend girl (lives in a city driving distance away. Only see her when I’m visiting)

And then of course Sarah, “my actual woman”. Qualified to be the one and woman but has some things to work out. We stay fighting all the time!

Now wait, wait! Before you call me a heaux or a player, let me explain. Sarah and I can’t seem to stay together for long. We take breaks literally like every other day. So, what’s the point?

The long distance one, I met before I started talking to my girl but distance is a bitch. We keep each other around because we might explore that chapter someday down the road. The crazy one has broken a bottle on my head before. That’s all I’ll say about her.

The weekend girl is so busy with her nursing school just as much as I am with work at the bank and night school that we only talk during the weekends. And it works.

The crazy one says she wants me and she wants to fall in love with me but she also has a boyfriend of 3 years. Yeah, wtf right?! That’s exactly what I said! But hey, I just give her the work and I don’t ask questions. Apparently, we all share each other these days.

Sarah just texted me that she loved me.

I really want to be with her but things with her were so complicated. She always seemed to be mad at me. Like I was perfect for every other woman but the one I really want. I just couldn’t make her happy for a sustained period of time. “Offering time”, Pastor Timothy announced. I sat down for an extra few minutes while I finished the text message asking her to come over. She told me she was working till 11pm. She would stop by after.

I drove back to my apartment after receiving an earful from spending the evening with my mother. The usual Sunday speech about her disgust towards the kind of young man I was becoming…Whatever!  I just wanted to get home before my girl made it there.

.    .    .    .    .

A little night-time Sunday construction traffic and I was home. I loosened my tie, unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt and stood in front of the mirror. For a quick minute my mind wandered.

My name is Zane.

I’m lost.

Surrounded by a crowd of people, family, friends and women everywhere…Yet, I’m still lost.

For the past year, I’ve been battling with on and off depression but I have so much holding on to me. I’m keeping it together for my family and friends so I put up this front but I’m really not okay. To those at the church I’m the beloved pastor’s son who can do no wrong. I hide behind the shadows of my mother and her achievements.

I was just beginning to realize that I’ve been in a dark place for a while now and I’ve been screaming for the help of the people I feel love me.

The woman that I truly feel loves me, I’d pushed away. It was not her fault, nor was it mine; it was life. She truly loved, I think even more than she loved herself. What The Heck Man?

A single tear was streaming down my cheek when she knocked on the door. I quickly wiped it off and walked out of my room to let her in. She had a few bags with her. She remains the worst ‘packer’ in the world. Going on a 2-day trip with a luggage, another suitcase full of shoes, her makeup bag, laptop bag and her handbag. I had concluded that I would never complain again; it was futile.

We began talking about my behaviour, a regular theme about how I wasn’t showing that I cared. Somewhere in the conversation and soon-to-be argument, she said something that I did not agree with. She told me that I was too busy trying to let the world accept me. That I’d changed and forgotten that I should only be concerned about what she thought of me. It struck a chord in me because there was a hint of truth in what she said. I automatically became defensive. She was starting to get angry as everything I said from that point on was either sarcastic or just flat out rude and then she snapped,

“This is what you always do! …  It’s always about you!” she yelled.

“You’re so self-centred!”

I stood there in shock as to how quickly it had all escalated. She had been holding so much anger in and I didn’t even know. My phone buzzed on the bed and I reached for it, glancing at her, I noticed the expression on her face change. It was like she was wondering how I could even consider responding a text message whilst she was still fuming with anger.

“You see! You can’t even pay attention to my feelings!” she continued.

I was mid-way reading the text when I snapped back and said, “Calm down!”

That was by far the worst thing I could have said at that point. She looked at me from head to toe, turned around and walked into the shower without saying a word.


I was in big trouble now.

That was her trigger word. In the heat of the moment, she absolutely hated hearing that word. I sat on my chair, phone in hand, and tried to figure out how I would apologize to her. I heard the shower begin to run.

 .    .    .    .    .

After waiting about 5 minutes I slowly opened the bathroom door. She was halfway through her shower when I walked in. I had already taken off all my clothes before I made my way into the bathroom. I slid the shower door open and stepped in. She took a quick glance at my hardening member and asked what I was doing whilst attempting to walk out. I grabbed her. With my left hand I held her waist and with my right, I completed the motion to turn her around.  She was now backing me. The soothing hot water flowed down her face and onto her breasts while my hands rinsed all the soap off her body. I turned her around, the water now raining on both our heads. I stared deeply into her eyes as mine communicated how sorry I was. She knew I had a way with words, so those had become useless. Her looking into my eyes was the only way for her to peer into my soul and know what I truly felt. I leaned forward and planted a wet kiss on her lips.

She closed her eyes as our lips connected passionately. We locked lips for a few minutes and then I began kissing her neck. In my arms she squirmed and I just held her tighter. Her right breast was now in my mouth. With water still dripping, my tongue swirled around her nipple and then I gently nibbled on it.

I slowly turned her around as I put my index finger on her clit and began to rub it vigorously. She was going wild. Her moans while hot were not as hot as the water raining on us from the shower above as her hand had tipped the knob further into the hot side. With my left hand I bent her forward and knelt down, I gently slipped my tongue into her now flooded chocolate factory. I was feasting. I moved my tongue in there like I was writing an apology letter. She was going to know how sorry I was. It was hard… I was enjoying feasting on her factory but the hot water flowing down my face and into my nostrils was making it hard to breathe. But if you’re going to die, how else would you rather go?

I got up and rubbed the head of my member, a few tugs and it was at its hardest position. I gently slid it into her. She gasped and looked back at me as I began to thrust in and out.

Bent over she moaned and tried to keep her eyes glued to me but it was hard. The steamy water dripping over her eyes distracted her as my member ploughed deeper and deeper. I was thrusting with purpose. I was determined to earn her forgiveness with my penis. I struck gold when she began begging… “Fuck me harder!” I grabbed hold of her waist, put my back on the cold shower wall and began pounding her. I was hitting it so hard she stopped talking. Her mouth wide open and gasping for air; I continued to plunge into the creases of her body. I was going to discover every inch of her! Her moaning intensified and became louder as I neared my climax. The moaning was driving me much closer to exploding than I wanted but it was that good. Her everything was that good. I pulled out of her and shot a full load onto the shower floor, watching it all get washed down the drain. I gripped her firmly as she struggled to stand on her feet; her knees were buckling. I let out a wry smile. She washed herself off before stepping out of the shower. Whilst she dried herself, I stood under the hot shower and washed myself down. My brain was wandering again. I need to make this girl mine! She’s perfect for me but we fight too much. Sigh.

I heard her walk out of the bathroom into the bedroom.

A few minutes later I heard my Skype ringtone on my laptop which was open and unlocked on the table.

“Shit!” I said to myself.

There was no way I could make it out there in time. I just hoped it was not a girl she would trip about and then I heard her call out.

“Zane, why is Anna calling you at 1am?”


Anna was my ex and I had sworn to my girl that we were no longer in contact.


I bowed my head in the shower. I knew I had to lie. I would probably get out of it but for now, I was a dead man. The water rained over me some more; this was the safest place for me right now.

Look out for Undercover Player Part 2

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3 thoughts on “Undercover Player

  1. Kinda confused. If he just spent the morning with Sarah, then why would she be upset about not receiving a “Good morning” text?

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