Serial Lover

By Sandra D Paul

My name is Chyna Hall and I despised how my mom raised me, seeing different men in our home almost every night. Although I felt this way, I turned out to be just like her. I couldn’t fight the temptation of seducing men I found physically attractive. Some men were innocent, flamboyant, and thuggish. But no matter the man’s background, I had to have them only once, and they always wanted more. Leaving long text messages on my cell, sending numerous emails or even leaving notes on my car windshield, they wanted more.

I consider myself a black widow, but without the actual killing. I would make mad love to men once and walk away as if I never knew them. Their existence was of no importance after that sexual encounter. Before leaving the room after sex, I would take a picture of them for my photo collection, to remember them by if I ever wanted to relive that sexual moment again with them. I really was a serial lover with no means of remorse or quitting, so I thought.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra D Paul
• Release date: Mar 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476393094

Sandra D Paul

Sandra D. Paul is an independent author who lives outside Atlanta with her two daughters, Simone and Jasmine. Sandra has an intense love for mystery shows, drama series, hip hop music and word search puzzles. She also enjoys designing book covers for other independent authors.

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Serial Lover

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Sandra D. Paul on Smashwords

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Serial Lover

Copyright 2012 Sandra D. Paul

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserve above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is the work of fiction. Names, characters places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Black Widow of Love

My name is Chyna Hall and I despised how my mom raised me, seeing different men in our home almost every night. Although I felt this way, I turned out to be just like her. I couldn’t fight the temptation of seducing men I found physically attractive. Some men were innocent, flamboyant, and thuggish. But no matter the man’s background, I had to have them only once, and they always wanted more. Leaving long text messages on my cell, sending numerous emails or even leaving notes on my car windshield, they wanted more.

I consider myself a black widow, but without the actual killing. I would make mad love to men once and walk away as if I never knew them. Their existence was of no importance after that sexual encounter. Before leaving the room after sex, I would take a picture of them for my photo collection, to remember them by if I ever wanted to relive that sexual moment again with them. I really was a serial lover with no means of remorse or quitting, so I thought.

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Chapter 1

I opened the curtains in my bedroom to let in the morning sun. Several birds surrounded the porcelain water bowl I had placed in the yard a week ago. I watched them as they sipped and chirped from it. The sky was so clear; it looked to be a perfect day. I walked backed to my bed and continued to enjoy the chirping outside my window. It took me a few minutes to make up my bed, then stroll into the bathroom and take a shower.

After showering, I went into the living room to open the blinds. I glanced out the window and saw a car that resembled Willie’s. Damn, that is Willie after getting a good stare. It really was him in his loud, canary color Charger. I dumped his tired ass two weeks ago. What is he doing cruising by my house at 7:00 o’clock in the morning?

This is what happens when I let those guys catch feelings for me. I explained to Willie we were only kicking it. He has been blowing my phone up, leaving numerous messages about getting with me again and how he wants me, badly. I had to block his number in my cell. Look at his tired ass out there driving around in circles. I would call the police, but I gotta be in court in two hours on that restraining order I had to put on Marco. Not only Willie, but Marco is pussy tripping, too.

What is it when men get a taste of my pussy? I guess Willie couldn’t handle it after all when I stuck my right finger up his ass with the help of that KY jelly, the sucking on his nipple and pinching hard on the other with my left hand. I’m glad I tied his ass up with my panty hose and put my thong in his mouth, so I couldn’t hear him screaming like a little bitch. His body trembled throughout the whole ordeal. It looked like he was having a seizure. A long tear drop fell from the side of his left eye from all of the excitement. I made him come three times before calling it a good fucking night.

Willie is a fine brother, but so full of himself. He has a pro basketball physique, but a mouth of a drama queen. He was always bragging about all the women he’s been with and how attached they got to him because of his good looks and so-called good loving he put on them. I put up with those boring ass stories for about two months. Now look at him. He has circled my house at least three times.

I wonder who untied him in that hotel room after I gathered my clothes and trinkets, took my trophy picture of him tied up, and left the room with no explanation as to my departure. I walked toward the door with my duffle bag and didn’t look back. I was done with Willie ass and I know it’s been painful for him ever since I walked out that hotel room. I know he wants more of my pussy and a first class ticket back to Pleasure World.

There he is again, driving by the house. His bitch ass is too scared to park the car and ring the door bell. Let me get dressed for court. I turned away from the window and headed back to my bedroom, thinking ‘how did I let