Often we keep secrets to protect ourselves and others from judgement and hurt feelings, and sometimes because it’s nobody’s damn business. But some secrets are worth sharing especially when there are lessons to be learned.


By Anonymous as told to Ida Harris

I found out about The Voiceful from a close friend one day, when she tagged me in a few posts that spoke directly to conversations we had just a few days prior about relationships and trash dick. I’ve been hooked on the site ever since. Honestly, I consider the Voiceful platform a safe space for women to vent and share our experiences — whether it be good or bad. I know for me, there are some things I can’t necessarily share with my BFF, for a fear of being judged. Yet, it doesn’t stop me from wanting to share with the community of voiceful women.

“I consider the Voiceful platform a safe space for women to vent and share our experiences”

In my 20s, I was sexually insecure. Growing up, sex was a taboo topic so I never felt comfortable with it. I undressed in the dark, and kept my bra and socks on during sex. I never peeped a sound while getting my boots knocked. There was no moaning, no groaning, no nothing; not even when I orgasmed. I enjoyed fucking, but I did so in silence. Aside from letting go of an awkward grunt when he was cumming, my boyfriend of four years never made noise either. And he was a sexfiend with a huge dick so you’d think I’d be more freaky, but that wasn’t the case at all. We screwed a lot, and he taught me how to suck dick, but our sex game was pretty much basic. When we did it, he resorted to the same four positions the whole four years: missionary, doggystyle, riding, and the laziest of them all — side-by-side.

Then one day, out of the clear blue sky, he asked if we could do a threesome, explaining that he had fantasies of hitting a chick from the back while she ate my pussy. I dismissed his request immediately because I just wasn’t with it. I could barely show him my full body parts. He was still prying a titty out my bra every time he wanted to suck it. There was no way in hell I was going from zero to 10 just to heighten our sex life.

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Even though sex was regular-degular, I was good. The frequency made up for the lack of experiences, and my friends filled in the gaps with their tales of trying different positions and new things. It was all cool till it was no longer cool, and what made it no longer cool was he was cheating. I found out in the most negligent way. He accessed his Facebook on my laptop and never signed out. I never even went through his account. I didn’t scroll through pictures; I did not stalk comments or check messages; they just popped up on the screen, in real time, as alerts and notifications — leading me straight to his indiscretions. My dude was out there being Mr. Marcus with his shit.

His infidelities read like PornHub headlines: “Fat Latina Gets Pounded By Cheating Boyfriend”; “Big Dick Dude Brings Brooklyn Bitch To Her Knees”; “Ole Boy Cheats On Girlfriend With Two Ebony Broads.”

The messages between him and several women confirmed he was giving up premium dick. One woman said he dicked her so hard and good the neighbors heard her screaming and reported it to the landlord.

Another girl said, and I quote —  

“you was the best fuck of my young life.”

Well … he was mine, too. He was the only guy who ever touched me. I was confused about my feelings. I didn’t know whether I should be plain old jealous he was out there getting his and I was not, or be angry he was fucking around on me and giving away good dick that should be reserved solely for me


A hard conversation needed to be had — with myself and with my man. Cheating wasn’t a deal breaker for me — we weren’t married, we were dating. I didn’t own him and he did not own me; regardless if I was loyal or not. It was hardly a requirement we spoke about. However, it was a good time to see where the relationship was headed.

For the next few weeks, I gave him the cold shoulder while I cried on my best friend’s shoulder. She was sympathetic to my situation. She cooked for me even when I was too depressed to eat. When I couldn’t breathe she spoke life into me. She wiped my tears and told me it was no time like the present to stop depriving myself of sexual liberty.  In fact, she suggested I get on my knees and talk to God. She was the friend who thought prayer fixed everything, including men and sex.

“Just lay it on the altar,” she told me.  


There was no goddamn way, I was taking my man problems and sexual repression to Jesus; not even if he knows my heart. I did take her up on her other advice — to hangout with men and soak up some positive male energy. She, nor I, could’ve guessed her brother Jay was a perfect candidate. He hit on me all throughout our childhood, and never really stopped when we got grown so when he flirted one night, after tailgating an Atlanta Falcons game, I took him up on his offer to meet for drinks afterward — at his house.

When I got there, Jay and his boy Quez were having drinks and watching game highlights in his home theater room. I joined in. After three shots of some the best tequila on this side of Mexico, I was feeling nice, talking shit and jonesing with the guys. We were holding out on watching a movie, because we were waiting on a girl his homie was kicking it with. Bestie’s brother kept hinting to me and making side-eyes at his boy, for cockblocking. I suspected he wanted to do some heavy petting, and I was certainly down, but I was also kinda skeptical about betraying my friend.

Another hour passed before his homie decided to call it a night. His date was officially a no-show. As he said his goodbyes, my friend’s brother smirked and winked his eye, and got up to walk him to the door. We were on the same page, but still the idea of screwing my friend’s brother seemed dead wrong, and damn near like incest even though we were unrelated adults. I closed my eyes and tried to scrub those thoughts from my head because after all what she didn’t know couldn’t possibly hurt her.

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I felt soft wet lips kissing along the nape of my neck, and those thoughts died a quick death. Jay ran his tongue up and down my throat, and around my earlobes, then whispered softly:

“I wanna fuck you bad, but Quez wanna know if he could get some, too,”

I might have thought he was kidding, if he wasn’t so dead ass serious. By the time I processed what that meant, both my titties were taking turns inside his mouth. I felt so damn good, I imagined two mouths would feel better than one.

“You down?” He mumbled.

“Yesssssss,” I consented.


Jay called out to Quez and told him he was good — actually, he was great. From the time Q reentered that room, he was the gift that kept giving. He kneeled before me, eased my spandex down and forced my legs eagle. He licked me from my asshole to my cooch while Jay massaged and french kissed my tits. I came right away — but quietly. Here it was two beautiful men were having me for breakfast and I was trying really hard to maintain my composure. I threw my hands over my face to hide my pleasure and prevent myself from making noise. Jay gently moved my hands away, held them above my head, and whispered, “Don’t be shy, ma-ma.” I moaned softly as he fucked me in my mouth.

Quez flipped me over on all fours and starting fingering and eating me from the back. “That’s all you got, huh?” he asked about my noise-making.  He licked deeper. I moaned more. They traded places: Quez fed me his dick and Jay pounded my pussy doggystyle. He slapped me on my ass and fucked me harder and harder until I called out both their names even louder. That and the sound of me gagging on Quez’ man meat, and Jay’s balls slapping against my butt was sweet music to my ears. I came again all over Jay’s beautiful dick. I couldn’t stop cumming.


The month before, I was church mouse in bed, but that night, I was getting banged at both ends — sucking, fucking, and begging both men to give me their meanest nut; they did. We went a whole ‘nother round before calling it a wrap. I’m sure Quez squeezed a set of twins down my throat and Jay busted  a monster nut in my gut multiple times. The guys thanked me dearly for being a team player and a great sport. I thanked them as well for taking care of me, being gentle with their touch, and as unforgiving with their dicks. It was the best fuck of my young life.


Although, I don’t regret a thing, somethings just aren’t meant for everybody’s consumption. However, I wanted to share with someone because well … two dicks … and because through that experience, I learned sexual freedom and self satisfaction weren’t a bad thing. Till this day, I never told best friend and I doubt I ever will, but I’m thankful to The Voiceful for being an outlet to share.


Go to the profile of Ida Harris

Ida Harris

I be writing. I’m aiight with standard English, but poetic with Black Vernacular. I’mma dope dealer, too


  1. K.Michelle says:

    Yas! But whatever happened to the boyfriend? Did she just move on and never confront him? Hell after what she described I don’t know if I would even care. Lol

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