Climaxes My Shockingly True Story

By Richie Drenz

Based on his true story, #1 National Bestseller, Richie Drenz, is in a committed relationship and has never cheated on Mary-Ann. They plan their wedding, telling friends and family and that's when he met the Tori on Facebook. But he’s determined he won’t cheat on his wife-to-be because they've lived together for a couple years and though no one is perfect, she's as close as it gets.But ... Tori doesn't only has sex appeal she has a weird sex fantasy, she wants them to explore. Will they explore this weird fantasy?
Richie Drenz tells you about cheating and lust truthfully from a man’s perspective, exposing the raw inner thoughts of most good men who try to be faithful. This book shows the real truth—no sugar-coating

If you enjoyed Fifty Shades, Zane or Eric Jerome Dickey then CLIMAXES is a must read for you. Buy or download to your collection.

Reviews

- 5.0 out of 5.0. Buzz Magazine selected as their Readers Choice.

- "A truly intense and boldly provocative story
that is unpredictable from start to finish" - Sanjay, INTENSE

- "Bold content from a talented Jamaican maverick
"- Jason Williams, ONSTAGE

EXCERPT

“If I tell you I’m seeing my period you gonna be angry?”
I’m a man, I’d definitely be pissed, I answered, “No. I wouldn’t be at all. You’re seeing it?”
“You’d be disappointed?” An obvious lisp in the way she pronounced “disappointed.” The truth was I’d be absolutely crushed but I said, “No. Why? I don’t even have sex on my mind like that. If it happens, it happens, though. I’ve no plans.” I shrugged one shoulder disinterestedly. “Just going with the flow.”
“Ok. Good.” She observed my face as she said, “I’m on my period.”
My heart split into two pieces. Hell naah. This girl’s flipping mad? After all that, she knew she was on her period and didn’t even have the decency to mention it before? She didn’t think I had the right to at least know about it before?
“Just look at your face,” she giggled. “Stop opening up your mouth like that, Man.” Her finger playfully flipped my lower lip to shut my mouth...

CHAPTER 1
“Psst, Sexy.” The man complimented, his eyes pasted on the girl’s bottom.
She was in seventh grade, she wasn’t ready to have such a great hatred and she was tall, five feet, eleven inches.
“Richie, you see what that man did with his tongue at me? Disgusting. Why won’t these big grown men stop looking at me like I’m some sort of cooked food?”
Pim-Pim turned her back to his direction, rolled her eyes and scrunched her face. “Sexy? Hmphh. I know exactly what he wants. I know I’m sexy but . . .” She childishly blushed as she said the word “sexy.”
I wasn’t sure if she was really disgusted by the attention she was getting or if she secretly revelled in it. As a thought dawned on her, she lifted her chin sharply and said, “I’m keeping my virginity till I’m out college. And my first time will be with someone special, you know? Someone I love.” She smiled her cute smile. She seemed to always be smiling — nothing got her down.
Her name? Pim-Pim. Twelve years old, and bigger than her seventh grade teachers — she was the biggest in her class and wanted to be grown. When Pim-Pim’s parents weren’t home, she plastered her face with foundation, eye-shadow, lipstick and eyeliner. But she hated nail-polish, all colors.
She had a single mole. A black beauty dot nestled to the right above her feisty upper lip. That beauty mark was the only mark on her entire skin. Her over-protective father taught her to be careful of lurking men on the streets — he didn’t want to go to prison for chopping into mutton minces anyone who dared touch his underage little princess. But before her thirteenth birthday came, his little princess was no longer a virgin.
The person she first had sex with was a grown man three times her age, and she loved him. She wore makeup to the doctor’s office when she went to have the abortion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richie Drenz
• Release date: Aug 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9789769536517

Richie Drenz

Richie Drenz aka "Da Silly Wabbit" is a Fashion Entrepreneur from Portmore Jamaica. He owns an urban fashion line called DRENZ FASHION and discovered writing through sharing bits of his life on the place he spends most of his time, facebook. He has no kids and loves the color red. The first story he wrote was a true life story, a memoir, titled CLIMAXES, which started from facebook and became an internet craze with supporters saying he need to do the book, and so he did. Check me out on facebook and read excerpts of my stories on my blog. See ya!

Book preview

Acknowledgements

If I had a son, I would thank him, but since I don't, Mira Williams is the first person, I would like to thank after thanking God. She has been there a whole lot to listen to my buzzing nags and worry about every detail of the book thrice. Thanks Mira and I am looking forward to publish your upcoming book ‘Kitty Rules’. Patrick ‘Pajujah’ Anderson thanks for being a gigantic support of my literature, moral support and encouragement as always, so too Yenshae Morgan, Melissa Roye and Anrea Mitchell. Thank you. Franz Hoilette, much respect for all the strength you’ve given behind this project mi brother, big up ilovebeingjamaican.com. Lisa Campbell you have been awesome. Thank you the reader for your support and do continue.

A huge thanks to persons on facebook that from day one has encouraged me to write, this list is in no order whatsoever and some persons may have changed their names but here goes, Shev Morgan, Marsha Nelson, Brih-Brih Anderson, Debbie Goodas, Sophie Sophisticat, Mandy DeFlock, Carla McClaughlin, Sugar Bear, Travelle Ellis, Kimmy Simpson, Sacha Barririffe, Kim Lee Kafka, Rochelle Bosslady, Chelton Glenister, Samantha Bryant, Stacy Isis Brown, Shauna Campbell, Stacyann Taylor, Taneisha Kentish, La Tondra, Shanice Steve, Sashell Bennett, Laurie Sanford, Tannica Brown, Ty Anthony, Pretty Nessa, Lia Dimepiece, Ashoikie Saunders, Aretha Miller, Lady Jay Knight, Jason Williams, Sabrina White, Breezy Thompson, Shanese Thorpe, Krystal Saunderson, Anrkiss, Ronae White, Shari Reid, Frankii Maragh, Lacey Thompson, Shanique English, Brenda Moulton, Jelisa White, Lacye Hyman,, Chilli Swaggerific, Shamel Lopez, Malissa Fletcher, Kandis Williams, Jhennell Trudy, Taneipoo Boost, Waldo Pitt, Sonya Henry, Rosa Bonfire Wood, Nathoya Smith, Kooli Badu, Shelly Simone, Cassie Blake, Renzii Hibbert, ShanLeica, Sherita Bell, Pam-Pam Smiley, Monalyn Blake, Cherribaby, Shannel Johnson, Jordiekae Bolt, Tadreen ‘Bossybratz’ Segree, Rose Marie Shaw, Thick Chick, Faith Rankine, Le Grimm, Brigette SoHard,Kadian Smith, Jodi-ann Superstar Mudfish, Natalia Rose, Stacy-Ann ‘Karamel’ Johnson, Rochelle ‘Bosslady’ Gibson, Mitsie Charlton, Kaseka Daley, Latoya Grant, Rayphia Porter, Brenda Daley, Shantell McFarlane, Sasha Henry, Faith Rankine-Bell, A. Divine ‘Karma’ Blake, Latoya Lyn, Regina Bennett, Brenda Daley, Shannel Johnson, Simone Smith, Diamond Benjamin.

~

Dedicated to – Chelton Glenister

OTHER BOOKS BY RICHIE DRENZ

The Heart of Revenge

Now Available, Buy Here

The Heart of Revenge 2

Release Date - 30 Sept. 2013

Pim-Pim, Mary-Ann, Bucks and Me

Release Date - 30 Sept. 2013

.

Click here to Sign up here for FREE short stories from Richie Drenz and updates on New Releases

If I tell you I’m seeing my period you gonna be angry?

I’m a man, I’d definitely be pissed, I answered, No. I wouldn’t be at all. You’re seeing it?

You’d be disappointed? An obvious lisp in the way she pronounced disappointed. The truth was I’d be absolutely crushed but I said, No. Why? I don’t even have sex on my mind like that. If it happens, it happens, though. I’ve no plans. I shrugged one shoulder disinterestedly. Just going with the flow.

Ok. Good. She observed my face as she said, I’m on my period.

My heart split into two pieces. Hell naah. This girl’s flipping mad? After all that, she knew she was on her period and didn’t even have the decency to mention it before? She didn’t think I had the right to at least know about it before?

Just look at your face, she giggled. Stop opening up your mouth like that, Man. Her finger playfully flipped my lower lip to shut my mouth...

CHAPTER 1

Psst, Sexy. The man complimented, his eyes pasted on the girl’s bottom.

She was in seventh grade, she wasn’t ready to have such a great hatred and she was tall, five feet, eleven inches.

Richie, you see what that man did with his tongue at me? Disgusting. Why won’t these big grown men stop looking at me like I’m some sort of cooked food?

Pim-Pim turned her back to his direction, rolled her eyes and scrunched her face. Sexy? Hmphh. I know exactly what he wants. I know I’m sexy but . . . She childishly blushed as she said the word sexy.

I wasn’t sure if she was really disgusted by the attention she was getting or if she secretly revelled in it. As a thought dawned on her, she lifted her chin sharply and said, I’m keeping my virginity till I’m out college. And my first time will be with someone special, you know? Someone I love. She smiled her cute smile. She seemed to always be smiling — nothing got her down.

Her name? Pim-Pim. Twelve years old, and bigger than her seventh grade teachers — she was the biggest in her class and wanted to be grown. When Pim-Pim’s parents weren’t home, she plastered her face with foundation, eye-shadow, lipstick and eyeliner. But she hated nail-polish, all colors.

She had a single mole. A black beauty dot nestled to the right above her feisty upper lip. That beauty mark was the only mark on her entire skin. Her over-protective father taught her to be careful of lurking men on the streets — he didn’t want to go to prison for chopping into mutton minces anyone who dared touch his underage little princess. But before her thirteenth birthday came, his little princess was no longer a virgin.

The person she first had sex with was a grown man three times her age, and she loved him. She wore makeup to the doctor’s office when she went to have the abortion.

She looked like an adult and was witty for a twelve year old—she lied to the doctor and told him she was nineteen so she could have the abortion. Pim-Pim wasn’t choosing to end the pregnancy because of her age, though. It was because of something else. Let me tell you why.

It was how she lost her virginity. Not that she misplaced it or anything. It was taken. By a person she loved and respected. Taken forcefully. She was raped.

Tears fell from her eyes when she told me the whole ordeal twelve years ago, in 1998. She lost her voice crying for help. She was raped on a Friday afternoon, at about one o’clock. Like all ungodly people, Pim-Pim doesn’t go to church anymore; she doesn’t really hate them, more like she’s afraid of them. This is why.

She was mentally scarred so deeply that when she sees churches all she remembers was the Friday she was raped in one. She doesn’t wish to attend any because of the horrible memories and the feelings going to a church regurgitates.

The thirty-six year old who raped her towered about three or four inches above her. He had broad shoulders that mountained high up to his neck and thick chunks of muscles sculpted his upper back. He had heavy hands, large fingers, a rough bearded face. His beard grew from the base of his neck to under his chin. It covered most of his cheeks and was well-kept. Her childish voice had begged and cried as she struggled to get her hands free from his bionic grip. During the struggle she got her very first mutilation. It was horrible. The skin above her eye was torn wide open. The wound was open, bloody and red flesh pulped out the skin. The doctors had to give her thirteen stitches to close it up. The shape of her eye was disfigured for life. But her physical scars were nothing compared to the emotional ones that the rape permanently inflicted. She was never the same person after that. Ever.

The man who molested her knew her for years. Had watched her grow from when she was a child. He callously watched her bleed thick puddles of her virgin blood onto her white panties and onto the floor. Instead of feeling sorry and remorseful, he felt powerful while he rammed and battered the early-breasted child who hadn’t yet reached her teens. Her blood hardened into scaly, cranberry-colored scabs on her thighs. Right there in front of her, the pastor used her panties to mop her pizza-sized blood-pool off the floor. Who could hurt a child in this way? Pim-Pim was ripped and wrecked. Ripped and damaged. Ripped and marred. In so many ways.

He was the pastor of Marlborough Temple Hall Church. A pastor. Well-respected in the community for his long list of kind-hearted deeds.

Pim-Pim now has very little faith in pastors and is bitter toward the world. Where she once was cheerful and smiley, she has changed to being angry, with a wretched hatred for men—she finds no love in them. She has no qualms about using men. She is emotionally unattached when it comes to sex.

But eight years after being so close to Pim-Pim and being there with her through so many of her struggles, she grew to like me, then love me. I did the same, but I tried to avoid it and went into denial for months, but finally the inevitable happened. We made love. It was a beautiful moment in our lives and an unbreakable connection bloomed between us from that day onward. And that, without a doubt, was a bad thing.

Pim-Pim hated her last name: Blaine. She hated it with a passion. She hated anything that reminded her of father—the minister—the man who raped her.

I’m no good with names. I’ve had a list of casual sex partners fifty miles long. I’ve forgotten many of their names and even some of their faces, but Pim-Pim is someone real, someone special, and a calamity.

She gave me a new meaning to what sex should be. Ever since sex with her, I’ve slowed down. Now I want to stop casual sex completely. Settle down. With someone right for me. Pim-Pim definitely isn’t that person. So I tried to end the relationship four years ago. But I couldn’t end the relationship with Pim-Pim, and this was just the tip of the problem.

We’ve been trying to end it since it is wreaking havoc and contention in our love lives. It puts me at an inner turmoil about love. I can't figure out if having great sex helps to make you love someone.

Or, does loving someone helps make sex great? Which is it? Now there are some questions to put some thought into.

CHAPTER 2

2010.

Richie … Do the things I say make you want to cheat sometimes?

Since Tori asked me this, I knew exactly what was on her mind, though maybe I was judging wrong. She doesn’t usually think a lot before she speaks. But even though she asked the question over the phone, I could tell from the pause before she asked that had been deep in thought.

I wondered, is Tori a bitch? I know she has intentions of casual sex with me. And I also know that it’s only ok for men to have casual sex, but not women. But sometimes I wonder about the double standard: should women be liberal enough to have casual sex with whoever they desire without people looking down at them as bitches and whores? For some strange reason I believe women are born with a sex drive just as men are—then again, I may be wrong. Can you answer this, though? If it is okay for men to have casual sex, but wrong for women, then who should we men be having casual sex with? Hmmm? Mermaids and elephants? Cows and platypus?

I want to stop being a player. No more casual sex. Settle down. No cheating. I know that makes me a punk and it’s like I’m willfully deciding to give up one of my testicles. But so what? That’s what I want—not the one testicle—the settle down serious relationship.

The right girl for me to settle down with was Mary-Ann. As a matter of fact, we were to get married in three months and five days, on December 14, 2010. I had already told most of my family. Everyone was happy for me. Some were hypocrites, as usual, with their congratulations and pretentious smiles. The biggest hypocrite in my family who smiled a lot and pretended to be happy for me and really wasn’t, was—ME. Ever since this girl named Tori came in the picture, well . . . Ok, lemme just explain.

Call me stupid or an idiot, the choice is really yours, but I have Mary-Ann’s name tattooed on my neck in beautiful Sans Serif font. She has my name on the same place on her. I considered this to either be a Casanova romantic gesture or terribly foolish. Maybe I’d suggested us getting matching tattoos (yes it was I, the clever one, who came up with the matching tattoo idea, thank you) as my meager attempt to convince myself to stay committed to our relationship. And with the help of God I knew I could fight all my boyish urges and be a husband, a dad. Stay committed. Or maybe the tattoo plan wasn’t all that brilliant after all.

I’m Richie Drenz. I own one of the most popular urban clothing lines in Jamaica, Drenz Fashion. I don’t tell you this to brag. I’m telling because my position increases my chance of having effortless one night stands. Women like popular things, and popular guys, even if you’re as ugly as the devil’s pet frog, or as handsome as Vybz Kartel or Mavado. But at my age of thirty, I’m ready for a settle down relationship with Mary-Ann, to totally ignore the attention so many women are willing to give me right now.

I pondered about Tori’s question while lying on my bed. Cheat? Does Tori make me want to cheat?’ How did Tori come into my soon-to-be-married life?

Well I wasn’t trying to deceive Tori, or anyone on Facebook for that matter, when my relationship status said single. Mary-Ann had said to me,

Don’t put that we’re in a relationship on your profile. She wagged her skinny index finger at my nose and warned, I don't want the whole Internet knowing my business.

She had even told me not to put up the pictures of our matching tattoos. I promised her solemnly I wouldn’t. And then I went and did it all the same behind her back. I changed the privacy setting on the pictures and blocked her profile so she couldn’t see that I posted them. She has always been the private type and rarely even uses Facebook, unlike me. I’m a very online person. I mean, if I’m not on it for three days you can call 911 and report me missing. I impulsively post all of my life on Facebook, even the dirty details. I guess that’s how I randomly added Tori as a friend in the first place.

Well, not quite randomly to be honest and since I’m being totally honest through this entire memoir, which is quite hard for me and embarrassing to write, at least you’ll understand how we men really think. No bullshitting, no sugar-coating, no trying to look good, I’m just giving the honest truth about how we men think and to explain why good men cheat. Yes, men are gonna hate me for this, I know.

CHAPTER 3

What happened was, Tori’s profile pic caught my eye, but seeing that I was in a relationship, I was only adding her for the sheer heck of it. I wasn’t seeking any sex or relationship or anything from her. I sent her a friend request just by manly impulsiveness. Let me clear my conscience. Women will never understand this about men, but it is scientifically true: we cannot, I repeat, cannot, see a sexy woman and not have her attract our attention within the first three seconds of seeing her. We have no control over those first three seconds, but after that we do. So, Ladies, if you think your guy didn’t check out that fly chick in the tight jean shorts passing by, sorry, he did. However, it doesn’t mean we must act upon the attraction. Some of us men have learned enough in life to understand it ain’t worth it, ninety-five percent of the time, especially when you already have someone who is worth your commitment. And I was in a committed relationship with Mary-Ann. No way was I going to fuck it up.

I have loads of inbox messages from females flirting with me—those fuck-every-hot-man type of women who I wouldn’t even as much as finger-fuck. I told them I was in a committed relationship, soon to be married. To the other women who wrote me, professional and ladylike and had great potential, I told them I was in a committed relationship and soon to be married. I was wholeheartedly decided on being committed to Mary-Ann—she had more than proven her worth.

But when we, as men, see, for instance, a gorgeous woman, such as Tori with wide hip bones beautifully fleshed out into perfect curves, long curly hair glowing skin, obvious breasts and pouty lips, we may, on a whim, send her a friend request.

I figured it wouldn't be problematic at all to add someone so far away, right? What harm could there be? That three second thingy had more than passed when I clicked a friendly add on her profile, sending her a friendly friend request, hoping that she’d accept. Waiting for her to accept to go straight to her private albums and look for the one titled ‘beach whatever’ or plain ‘beach’ just to look at her sexy pics. That’s all. No other intention. Just peep around. Peep. I didn’t say stalk.

As a matter of fact, how stupid would it be of me to try and fuck one of Mary-Ann’s friends? That would ruin everything I was committed to. Well, I was assuming Mary-Ann and Tori were conversational friends, at least, because it was while Mary-Ann was scrolling through her friend’s list that my wandering eye caught a glimpse of a picture of Tori in her pink bikini. Mary-Ann had like nineteen friends on Facebook, sixteen girls and only three boys: her cousin, Craig, and two other dudes, Blanco Hotboy-Dillinger, a funny looking dude with a long pear-shaped face, heavy drooping bottom lip, widespread nose and a pleasant bald spot smack in the middle of his head. And then there was Sadiki Fellon, who she worked with. She didn’t chat with men much, was quick to shut them down. She only accepted friend requests from people she actually knew and talked with, which, as you can see, weren’t many. She totally didn’t believe in the concept of online friends. If she had never met you before and you sent her a friend request she’d never accept it. She even refused requests from old schoolmates because they were past schoolmates, not friends,—in her eyes they only wanted to pry in her business.

I, on the other hand, believed that was utter nonsense. I didn’t see any trouble with having a couple online friends. Facebook is a social network, goddammit, it’s there to make online friends and I had a couple of friends there. I had over three thousand friends, three quarters of which I absolutely didn’t know, but the number made me look popular, so I accepted every friend request and boasted on my friends that I had many online friends.

I remembered the day Tori accepted my friend request. If you’d ever heard about the word happy, and pictured many teeth between two wide grinning lips, then that was me when I saw that she had actually accepted my request. Without delay I was in her album titled Beach Trip 09. Yes, I knew a sexy, showy girl like her must have a beach album because having an album like that is the female’s way of innocently showing off her sexiness, without the worry of seeming stripper-like. Wearing panties and a bra on Facebook is a slutty girl seeking attention. Bikini bottom and top, now that’s a different thing. That’s quite acceptable and ladylike. And if women want to add classiness to it, they wear carnival costumes that are even tinier and more revealing than regular panties and bra. WTF ladies???

Aww well, let’s continue. I’m gonna be an open book with you, ok? Usually when we men see a stunning profile pic, it’s one of the better, if not the best, pics that the girl has and all her other pics are worse than her profile pic. With Tori, (I’m no pervert or anything), her pics were so fucking hot, I downloaded either two or three or twenty-seven of them to my computer. I wasn’t stalking her when I downloaded so many of her pictures. More a preventative measure. Just in case my Internet chose to start acting up, I could still look at her pics. She was perfect. Dimpled smile, big white teeth, glorious ass. The flawless picture of her, her skin wet, dripping