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Chapter 57

Authors Note: This chapter includes a toxic nigga with good dick. 🥴 I.e. Sex.

You can just skip right past if you don't like all that orrrrr.... you can read it and tell me how well I did considering I haven't written erotica in a while. Enjoy 🤗


No criminal charges were brought against my husband because of the lack of evidence. After everything they put us through and what the media said about Michael and me, nothing was brought against us. None whatsoever. And even after that, that family still wanted something out of us. We filed an extortion claim and I don't know if it was because a lot was going on, but our extortion case didn't get fulfilled the way it should have been. Not only that, but it's crazy that we filed an extortion claim against this family, but it didn't even get half of the attention that that made up child molestation case got. In the end, there was a settlement with the family. We didn't want to give that family a dime of our money, but against our protest, our insurance company ended up settling the case. $15,331,250 went to be held in a trust fund for Jordie while June and Evan each received five million dollars. After they received their settlement, nothing else was said. I don't know how the media got a hold of the settlement, but when they did, the whole world knew about it. Prior to the settlement, on Martin Luther King Day, Michael hosted a party at Neverland for two hundred underprivileged children. I was indifferent about it, but this is the reason Michael created Neverland in the first place. He said he was not going to let this case steal his joy and his ultimate mission on Earth to help children. I understood where he was going with that, but in the same breath, I'm no longer comfortable with having random people in our home or on our ranch. During the event, however, Michael and I introduced ourselves to the children and their parents, took a group photo and went our separate way while the families took over the ranch. It was Michael's way of not only proving his innocence but also to show the world that he wasn't going to let their incorrect opinions deter him. There was no media coverage of Michael opening our home to two hundred underprivileged children, but could I really expect that there would be? The media feeds off of nothing but lies and drama. And even if the media did get wind of it, they would have turned it into something it was not. After that, Michael and I attended the NAACP Image Awards where he spoke proudly of his innocence. The entire room was in support of him. It made me so happy to see all of these people in support of my husband. They knew the case was a load of crap just like we did. I couldn't hold back my tears if I wanted to. Even seventy-five percent of Americans believed Michael was innocent. But after the settlement that we never consented to, the media turned that into something else and now when I hear about people's opinions on the case, they don't know what to believe. Michael and I knew this would happen. It was extortion in the beginning, that's why we weren't going to give them money in the first place. We knew what would happen either way. Now everyone is questioning our integrity and at this point, I'm over it. I'm over the media and whatever people have to say about this case anymore. I'm just tired of talking about it.

I left DoubleDay. There's no bad blood with them. I just wanted to grow and become better at my craft. Thankfully despite everything that was going on with me and Michael last year, they never said anything to me about it or tried to get me to do anything to disrespect my husband. Remi left with me and we began a joint publishing company called SJ&R Publishing House. I'm currently working on something about how our end of the case went, which will be one of the first books released under our company. One of the conditions after the settlement was that we couldn't talk about the case at all. How is that fair when the Chandler Family and even their extended family gets to talk about the case so much? So, with that being said, I'll be writing about what we went through because of the case. It's not talking about the case directly... Just what we went through and I feel that's fair.

I just want things to be so much better this year. A year we claimed as ours, clearly wasn't. It's just time to start over. Breathe new life into things. Set boundaries. Make serious personal changes individually and as a couple, because I refuse for our world to be turned upside down like it was last year.


June 20, 1994

I called for God as if he was in the room, but God isn't in here. It's just us, yet as we were one, I repeatedly called to the Most High. For the past eleven years, I've only been with Michael. They say the older you get, the better the sex gets... I've learned Michael's body and he has certainly learned mine. I reached underneath myself to rub my clit, causing my walls to squeeze tighter around him. At that, he slowed down his pace. I know what that does to him. It never fails. In response, he reached for my wrist, bending my arm at the elbow and placed it on the small of my back, pushing me further into the bed.

"Oh, God..." I called on Him again. He grabbed a handful of my ass in both hands and gave me slow yet so deep strokes. He was just barely touching my cervix. I swallowed hard as I turned to look back to look at his face. He was so focused on pleasing me. Eyebrows furrowed together as he bit his bottom lip watching himself stroke me from behind. Whew! He pulled all the way out and slowly pushed his way inside me again. My breathing unknowingly matched his actions. He pulled out, inhale. He pushed back inside, long exhale as my body accommodated him entering me again. Although I have only been with this man, each stroke he gave me always felt different. Powerful. Electrifying. It was never the same. One day we'd have sex standing up. Another day we'd be on the bed. And the day after that, he was being adventurous and fucking me on one of the mountains of our ranch. We are active members of the Mile-High Club who never intend on turning in that card. Some days he'd give me long strokes that would keep me thinking about it all day. Other days, quickies were on the menu. Sometimes I'd cry. Sometimes he'd cry. Our sex was never the same and I swear, that's the best part of being with the same person all these years.

Michael gave my right cheek a hard slap and told me to turn over. I did as I was told and spread my legs for my husband as he lay down between them and kissed me, taking my bottom lip into his mouth. "You are so tight." He said as he rubbed the tip of his dick along the entrance of my yoni. I smiled at his compliment. Eleven years and he still couldn't get enough of this. Although we've had our mishaps in the past, we never stepped out of our marriage sexually. Ever. Even if he had, he'd run back over here because no one else could touch what I've got going on over here. He pushed the tip in as he kissed the crook of my neck and started to give me slow strokes that graduated into excited fast strokes. He stroked like he was addicted. Like, if we weren't married and didn't plan on having a baby, he wouldn't mind unplanned parenthood. Like, he was about to nut, but he stopped, took two sharp inhales and swallowed.

"You okay?" I asked. He nodded. "Why'd you stop?"

He gave me an exhausted toothy smile and turned to look at me. His face red of exhaustion, but his pearly white teeth seemed to shine from the sunlight. "I don't want to come yet."

"Oh, baby." I laughed and pulled him down to kiss me. My vagina pulsed around his dick, which felt good as I laughed. He kissed his way from my lips to my breasts, to my navel and finally to the lips of my womanhood. He gave me gentle fingers and then that infamous tongue that people were only blessed to hear from, but I was lucky enough to feel on my clit every night. He ate me out like never before, I swear it. Savored me as if I was either forbidden fruit or his last meal. I may have thought he did well that last time and the time before that and the time before that, but my God... What was he doing with his tongue this time??? He twirled his tongue around my clit and then began to lightly suck on it. Yes. Like that, like that, like that. He ate me out without overworking my clit, leaving me very stimulated and smiling at orgasm. Small laughter filled the room as I came for my husband. And then he gave me his dick as if he were trying to prove a point. Points that he had proven long ago, but it was a beautiful reminder.

With each stroke, the passion continued to blossom, and I met each and every thrust he gave me. In the beginning, when I had no idea what I was doing, I wasn't a participant. I was simply a "pillow Princess," but over the years I learned and actively participated. My upward thrust met his downward stroke effortlessly with passion and graceful vigor. He finally turned me to the side, lift my leg and gave those daddy long strokes that I've favored over the years. This was always my favorite position. His was standing up, but this right here? He hit the right spot every single time and it always made me come...

The tingles were strong as my orgasm began to blossom inside me. The sounds our skin made as it slapped against one another's. The husky breathing coming from him and my sighs mixed together made music that was pure and one that I hadn't minded hearing over the years. If we made an album that was just the sounds of us having sex, it. Would. Be. Gold. The way my body responded to him, how it rolled as he thrust. My orgasm was sleek at first, but it began to grow making it impossible to hold back. I whimpered and reached for him, but he never came to me because he was so focused on making sure we came together. He was hitting my spot and it only made me tense. It was coming closer with each and every stroke. Growing in size with each and every stroke he gave me. Orgasm teased me in the lower part of my abdomen. I was never a runner. Never a runner, but this time...

I began to inch myself away from him only for him to pull me back with a force that caused a sharp gasp from me. He bent over and kissed my earlobe, yet while he did that, I could hear the soft suffering coming from him. He was about to come too and that excited me. He stroked faster without lacking any consistency. The world has seen the way Michael Jackson moves his hips in dance. A smooth rotation that no one could duplicate. I'm sure every time a woman has seen him dance, she instantly wondered what his sex was like. Darling, when he dances, he has rhythm. And that rhythm was still existent when he made love to me. I am truly a lucky woman.

He whispered how good it felt to be joined with me. Over the years, I've never gotten a complaint. We've instructed each other on what we liked, but there was never a complaint from either of us. This time, I swear he was on a journey, searching for a spot he had never been before. He was going in and out so deep and hard that I was close to tears. I tried to hold them back and whatever was deep in my throat, but without warning, I became vocal. And he loved when I became vocal. Telling him not to stop and that I was almost there. Asking him if he loved this pussy as much as I loved his dick. I loved it when we talked dirty because I was only getting more aroused. He was rough for a moment, giving me a sweet mixture of pain and pleasure, but his thrusts were still rhythmic. Still varying between speed and depth, which at this point put me in a trancelike state. Mouth wide open in an "o" shape with no sound coming out. Just waiting for the orgasm to overtake my entire being. He laid down beside me, facing me, still inside me and kissed me. His mouth was smoother than oil. Wet as water. A sweet mixture of my natural lubricant and the saliva from his mouth. He was a musician in many different ways. Right now, he was a conductor, directing a performance and the moans of this one-woman orchestra with his dick. I sang like a choir as I mimicked his dance and rhythm. He closed his eyes tight in accordance with grabbing a handful of ass as he stroked faster toward orgasm. Until finally... he surrendered, setting free a long groan. Watching my husband come only made me do the same. I was speechless because we had been together for hours and he promised me he'd make me come seven times. And I just made it to lucky number seven...


"Are you okay?" Michael ran a finger from the middle of my breasts to my navel.

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

I turned to look at him. "This. Us. How we've conquered so much in so little time."

He sat up on his elbow and continued to trace up and down the middle of my breasts to my navel. "Like what?"

"You protected me so much at the beginning of our marriage. You didn't want me to have to go through what you went through daily with the media. We were outed and you found a way to protect me again. The thing with Frank making you out to be single... Tatiana... Us finally coming out about our marriage and then the case. We've weathered each and every storm." I shook my head.

"We're strong." I nodded. He's right. We are strong. That's a lot to weather. A lot to get through and grow from. But we did it. "Just imagine how our kids will feel when they hear how our lives were before them. They're gonna think we were crazy." I laughed to myself. I can only imagine what our children will think when they're older. Especially hearing about the case. I try not to think about it anymore, but it's always brought up somehow. Comedy shows have gone the extra mile to make fun of Michael and me. I can't wait until this is all dead and gone. It's just not moving fast enough.

I turned to face him. "How-" I cleared my throat. "How do we explain it to them?"

He shrugged. "With honesty. Answer any questions the best we possibly can."

My lips twisted to the side as I smirked. "How do we explain Bubbles?"

At that, he laughed. "'Daddy had money to buy a chimp, so he did.'"

"Because who wouldn't buy a chimp just because they could, right?"

"Exactly!" I leaned in to kiss him. With my birthday coming up, I've been thinking about a lot lately. I've accomplished all I've wanted to accomplish. I've grown a lot from the unsure young woman I once was. I've shared my wealth and accomplishments with my husband as he has done me. I just want to share my accomplishments with more people I love.


July 23, 1994

"Michael," I walked into the living room.

"Yes, baby?" He asked as he continued to fiddle around with the newest thing in technology that he had acquired.

"My period still hasn't come and I'm starting to get worried." I twirled my thumbs. My last period was the first of last month and I expected it to come around the fourth and she has yet to arrive.

"You're always irregular though, right?" He continued to fiddle with his newfound toy.

"Yeah, but something is telling me this isn't just an irregular period. I've been spotting, so I thought my period was coming, but it didn't, so... I think I need to go get a pregnancy test and see if it's what I'm thinking it is."

That caught his attention. He finally looked up at me. "You think you're pregnant?"

"I don't know. I could be. Maybe I'm just psyching myself out. But I can't be too sure."

"Uh... Okay. Well, do we need to go get a specific brand or something?"

"Can we go see Dr. Rowe?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course." He hurried to get up and grabbed his keys. Any other time we tried to get pregnant, it just never worked. If I just so happen to be pregnant now, what are the odds that it would happen when we least expected it? Much less planned it. I'm trying not to think much of it, but my periods haven't been too irregular lately, so this is the only logical answer. "So, it really just never came?" Michael asked me once we got in the car. I shook my head no. I'm nervous and I don't know why. I've wanted a baby for a while now. Why am I nervous? "Your stomach is flat. Normally you're bloated around this time."

"I'm bloated. Trust me." I sighed. So, bloated it's annoying me actually.

"Let me see," he went to lift my shirt. "You're not that bloated..." I just want to take this pregnancy test and see if I'm right, so I don't have to keep stressing. Before you know it, I'm going to have grey hairs growing. "Baby, if you are pregnant, do you know how..." My thoughts drowned him out as I thought of all the possibilities. I am ready to have a baby, right? I was made for this. My body was made for this. I accomplished all I've ever wanted to accomplish. I've done all I've wanted to do in life. If I have children, I can just share those experiences with them over and over again. I won't feel like I'm missing out on anything, because I've literally done it all. I'm ready. There's no way I can't be ready. Michael and I have talked about what it would be like raising our children. How we would love them to pieces. How we would discipline them. How we would show them the world and then some. We have so much in store that we want to pour into our children. I couldn't be any more ready.

Once we pulled up to the Doctor's Office, Michael was still talking a mile a minute about the possibility of me being pregnant. He couldn't contain his excitement and we hadn't even taken the test yet. We checked in and got situated in the room assigned to us. I watched as Michael continued to talk about the possibilities of having a son or daughter. Having children has always been his dream. I couldn't be any happier than to have our children.

"Michael and Shayla, how are we feeling today?" Dr. Rowe asked as she walked into our room. We've dealt with few doctors over time. Dr. Arnold Klein was Michael's longtime doctor for his skin. Deborah Jeanne Rowe was Dr. Klein's assistant in the eighties but started her own practice and because we were so comfortable with her, we just became her clients for the minor stuff like physicals and whatnot.

"I'm okay. Kind of stressed out. As you can tell, Michael is excited over there." I laughed, rolling my eyes.

"I see!" Deborah laughed. "What's got him so excited?"

"She might be pregnant, Debbie. That's why we're here." Michael couldn't suppress his smile.

"Yeah?" Debbie asked me.

"My period has yet to come, but I was spotting a while back. I think I might be pregnant." I could feel the nervousness creep up again.

"Well, we'll do a full physical for you and then we'll get you a pregnancy test. How's that sound?" She asked as she began to get her supplies.

"That sounds perfectly fine." As she gave me a physical, we caught up on life and how I had been feeling lately. She thought it was incredibly awful what the world was saying about us a while back, but she was glad the world was beginning to move on. We were grateful because she didn't believe anything that they tried to put out about us. How could she though? She knew us. She knew Michael didn't do what they accused him of. Aside from that, Debbie just started dating again which I'm very proud of. She deserves someone nice and who will treat her well. Every woman does. After she did the physical, she went onto conduct a blood test and left the room so she could get the results.

"You okay, baby?" Michael stood up and kissed my forehead.

"Yes. I'm just nervous." I sighed.

"Why? I thought you wanted to have a baby." He searched my eyes.

"I do. But, Michael... This baby is going to be growing inside me and when it's time, I have to give birth, and do you know how painful that's going to be? It's more than being excited to finally have children. I'm going to be bearing all of this-"

"I'll be right beside you the entire way. It'll be okay. You won't have to weather this storm alone."

I nodded. "You're right. I'm just psyching myself out."

"Who knows?" He shrugged. "You might not even be pregnant. You could be psyching yourself out for nothing."

"Okay." I nodded again. I can't think of how painful of an experience this might be. I have to think of the joy it's going to bring us every step of the way. The changes my body is about to go through will be a lot for the both of us, but we'll get through it. Shoot, if Michael can tolerate how I am every cycle, he'll be able to tolerate whatever challenges pregnancy will bring.

"I've got good news!" Debbie walked in with a sheet of paper. "You're four weeks pregnant!" My heart dropped. Four weeks?

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