Big Juicy Lips (20 page)

“I’m sorry, Misty,” Brick mumbled, looking down in shame.

“Fuck you!” She kicked one of the duffle bags in anger as she hastily made her way to the kitchen. “Just remember that you brought this on yourself,” she said, fury glinting in her eyes as she looked back at Brick. She grabbed the phone and pushed a button. Shoulders heaving in rage, she impatiently tapped her foot while she waited for her call to connect. “Why you take so long to answer your damn phone?” she barked into the phone. “So, how much longer are you gonna be?” She patted her foot faster. “An hour! Damn, why you gotta take so long? Look, hurry the fuck up—this worthless nigga needs to be on his way.”

D
ane would have gladly wined and dined Felice, just to get another peek between her legs. The girl had a pussy like no other. And it did amazing things—worked on a dick like a pair of fat-ass lips. Dane was ready to turn his life around; marry the pussy, make it his wife. But with Misty breathing down his neck, calling and checking up on him, he had to find creative ways to get Felice to spend a little time.

After the last sexual fiasco, he was scared to stick his dick up in the punany. So, for the time being, he just wanted to look at it, admire it with his eyes, and then smell it for a minute before sucking the sweet juice out of those scrumptious pussy lips.

So, knowing he’d have to pay to play, he scooped up a trinket out of Misty’s overflowing jewelry box. A charm. A tiny gold sandal with glittery straps—something Misty had most likely forgotten she’d even bought.

Misty deserved to get got—she kept making him promises, but nothing had materialized. Fuck that conceited bitch. What happened to the two-carat rocks he was supposed to be flossing? Bitch had game; he was still rocking a carat on each ear.

Lying on her back, knees wide apart, Felice held her tiny present, marveled at the craftsmanship, excitedly examined every exquisite detail. Meanwhile, Dane crouched between her legs, examined Felice’s genital region with the serious professionalism of a doctor. But when he separated her hairy outer lips and glimpsed her puffy flower, he moaned and slumped over, groaning. He gripped the sheets, trying to muster the strength to revisit her soft, feminine domain.

“You really feelin’ my pussy like that?” Felice asked. “A lot of niggas admit my shit feels good, but they say it looks strange.”

“Fuck what other niggas have to say. I’m not trying to hear about no dick you had in the past. This is my shit right here.” He patted her pussy. “Ya heard?” Dane took a deep breath, biding his time before he took another plunge down below.

Felice set the trinket on the bedside table. “All right. Get on with it then. I’m ready.” She opened her legs wider.

“I can’t fuck you,” Dane admitted, looking up at Felice with incredulous eyes.

“Why not?”

“You know what happened the last time. I’m better than that, but I have to get used to you, yo. That ain’t no regular pussy; I gotta take it slow.”

“Okay.” Felice was quiet for a moment. “I have a dildo. You wanna use that on me?”

“Umph,” he grunted and grabbed his dick. “That’ll work.” He gripped his manhood as it grew as hard as granite, but he didn’t trust his manhood to hold up under the pressure of Felice’s puffy pussy lips. “Hell, yeah. Gimme that dildo. I’ma work you over, yo.” He stroked his dick expectantly, while Felice groped under a pillow. She pulled out a convincing dildo. Jet black and rippled with bulging veins and replete with a set of balls.

“We need to lube this up,” she said. “I have some K-Y…”

“No, you don’t. Let me see you suck it. Lube it up naturally.”

“Baby, I don’t wanna s…”

“I might be able to fuck you, if you wrap your lips around that black dildo.” Dane scrunched up his face, aroused by his coarse words. The frowning expression enhanced his good looks, added more thug to his pretty-boy-ness. The combination of thug and sweet made Felice’s tunnel tighten; she was ready to get down and dirty. More than ready to get tangled up in the sheets with Dane, she tongued the bulbous sloped-head, snaking her tongue around it, licking along the synthetic shaft. She was giving a command performance that deserved to be rewarded with some hot, distended flesh.

Oh, hell. Who was she kidding? Getting fucked wasn’t the only thing on her agenda. Stealing Misty’s man was at the top of the list. If she had to pussywhip him into shape, then so be it.

Misty had it going on and Felice wanted what Misty had. She wanted Misty’s fly wardrobe, her shiny whip, her bling and her money stash…she wanted her entire fucking lifestyle. And she figured she could get it, if she could win Dane’s heart. As far as she could tell, Dane was the nigga in charge. She’d spotted the thick wad of cash in his pocket the minute he walked through the door. Yeah, that nigga had his money right. Misty was only arm candy. Dane was the type of dude who liked to see his woman flossing, but he was on some low-key shit. No need to flash and shine. Nigga was so fine, big chains and gleaming jewelry would be overkill. He wasn’t about gaudy glitter. Nah, all he flossed was a pair of diamond studs in his ears. Felice dug that.

So, what did Misty have over her? She wondered with a frown.
Nothing!
Misty didn’t have anything except long hair and a pretty face. Fuck that skinny-ass, no-hips, no-tits, stuck-up bitch. Felice intended to have Dane all to herself. She just had to plan it right. Let him keep coming around, let him keep sweating her—play hard to get. Dane had a nice operation going on and she wanted a big-ass slice of the cheese. Instead of selling her pussy like a peon, she would claim her seat on the throne—queen bee status—joining the king at his hip while he stacked up cheddar.

Visions of driving around in her own fly whip prompted her to suck in more plastic. She licked and slurped like the rubber dick tasted candy sweet. With an eye fixed on Dane’s face, she took in another inch of the supple rubber, sucked the dildo-dick like she expected it to start twitching and shooting out a load of semen.

Dane praised her skills with a low, masculine groan. Then he manhandled his own dick, grasping it, wrangling with it, as he thrust his wide girth into the small opening made by his long, curled fingers. Grimacing, he panted hard, like he was hard-hitting inside a sticky, hot hole. “Suck it, baby. Suck that dick the same way you gon’ suck the cum out of mine.”

She deep-throated the supple rubber, dragged her tongue across the flesh-like testicle base.

With his hand wrapped around his rigid length, he dove face-first into her dark moisture. He kissed the pussy. Pressed his lush lips against hers with such ardor, he felt his mouth and her pussy vibrating together in passion. He licked the fleshy petals open, and whisked one plump lip with his tongue, and then the other. He teased her feminine nub with the tip of his tongue until it became rigid and engorged. Then it captured the slippery jewel and held it between his teeth, tugging on it, gently making her quiver and cry out. Making her say his name. Her juices spilled out like nectar from bitten fruit, saturating his tongue, refreshing his mouth with its tart-sweetness. He lapped the sweetness that seeped from her dewy core. She twisted and moaned; he sucked harder, dug his tongue in deeper, all the while hand-stroking his aching shaft, working himself up to the point of spilling his seed.

“Lemme fuck you, baby,” he gasped, eyes flitting toward the dildo. Felice blinked in confusion. Groaning with sexual desire, Dane eased the dildo from her mouth and held the realistically shaped penis in his hand. Low, guttural moaning passed his lips as he positioned himself between her legs and slid the smooth head up and down her delicate slit, separating her heavy folds, uncovering the creamy moisture, probing until her desire poured out and trickled down the replica of massive manhood.

Fuck the dildo, she could have that anytime. Felice was ready for Dane’s hard shaft. “That’s enough.” She twisted her torso, sat upright, trying to knock the fake appendage out of Dane’s hand.

“Relax, shawty, lemme do this.” Using the hand that had been stroking his own erection, Dane eased Felice down, held her firmly in place while he penetrated her with the black dildo, pushing it and twisting it rhythmically until she surrendered. Bucking hips and a cry of pleasure indicated Felice’s acceptance of the freak fuck session.

Yanking on his hardened loins, Dane felt a familiar sensation swirling in the pit of his stomach. He felt it coursing throughout his veins. His temples began to throb as blood rushed to his head. He sank the dildo deeper. He was beyond rational thought. Working on sexual instinct, he removed the black penis from her pussy and guided it to her mouth. “Suck it for me,” he urged.

On command, Felice licked her moisture off the dildo and then puckered her lips around the sloped head.

Dane aimed his weapon at the target, aligned it and pushed inside. “Ahhh!” he cried the moment her bulging pussy lips enveloped the head of his dick. Her lips hugged his aching manhood, weakening him. Immobilizing him. Preventing him from penetrating deeply. Through gritted teeth, he grunted and growled. He pushed, attempting to insert some of his length while fighting to hold back the inevitable eruption. “Oh, shit!” Semen bubbled in his scrotum and traveled up into the base of his shaft. Lightning bolts of pleasure jolted him, sent him plunging over the crest.
Fuck it!
He let go. Shot out hot jets of semen, felt his seed splashing against fat pussy lips, dripping down into her hairy mound.

Dane was extremely disappointed. His hose was long and firm. He was fully equipped to do the job. Damn shame he fucked around and splattered the outside when his jawn should have been up inside that dip, spray-painting her interior walls.

T
homasina had never seen a sadder sight. Then again, maybe she had. She hadn’t been a very pretty sight after that last go-round with Victor. Whew! That last bout had knocked the wind out of her sails, had her in pretty bad shape. Still, as hurt and fuming mad as she’d been, Thomasina doubted if she looked as broken down, shell-shocked, and dispirited as Brick looked when he trudged inside her living room.

“Get those bags off my carpet. Don’t be so damn lazy. Pick ’em up and take ’em up upstairs to the back bedroom,” she barked, hoping to incite Brick into firing back.

She was bored. Nothing on TV worth watching. Antagonizing her reluctant new boarder into a heated argument might be entertaining. That damn Misty had put her in this inconvenient bind; she might as well have a little fun. She was prepared to cuss Brick out with all the rage and passion she had stored up after Victor had so cruelly dumped her for the second and final time.

Without a word of his usual sass, Brick trudged upstairs. A half-hour passed. What the hell was he up there doing? She didn’t hear drawers or closet doors opening and closing. That bastard better not be up there getting high.

Thomasina stomped up the stairs and found Brick sitting on the bed, staring into space, a pile of blue pills cupped in his hand.

“What the hell?” Thomasina smacked the pills out of his hand, sent them scattering. Brick fell over; his large body hit the floor like a toppled tree.

“Oh, hell! What in God’s name is wrong with you? Did you take any of those pills?” She pulled on his arm, but he was dead weight. He was conscious, alert, but unmoving. Staring and moaning.
Oh, goddamn!
Thomasina was going to give her daughter hell for putting her in this position. That little heifer knew Brick wasn’t in his right mind; that’s why she shipped him out of her cozy apartment. What the hell was she supposed to do with him? Call an ambulance? Hell no! She wasn’t about to give her nosey neighbors another exciting show. Bad enough that they’d witness Victor and his best friend, Mason running out of her house, carrying luggage. They’d probably heard all the commotion most recently when she’d tried to stab Victor to death with a pair of scissors.

Her neighbors had had enough titillating entertainment at her expense. If she couldn’t get this big brute back in bed, he’d just have to sleep on the floor.

Arms folded across her chest, Thomasina scowled down at Brick, who was positioned in a tight fetal curl. The nerve of him attempting suicide in her domicile. She pulled the blanket off the bed and tossed it on top of him.
Humph!
First thing in the morning, Misty and her new boyfriend better get out of their cozy little love nest and come get this nutcase off the floor and take him to get some psychiatric help.

Thomasina had a hell of a time trying to get to sleep. Those blue pills she’d swept up and tossed in the waste bin were calling her name. One pill would guarantee a decent night’s sleep. She didn’t approve of addictive medication, but after all that drama with Brick, her nerves were shattered. She needed something to calm herself down. She’d called her daughter a million times but that rotten little brat had turned her cell off; wouldn’t pick up the house phone either. Thomasina tossed a few more minutes, then found a comfortable position. The sound of footsteps in the hall jerked her upright.
Now what?
She had to be at work in the morning, dammit. She couldn’t take any more of Brick’s nonsense. Grumbling to herself, she got out of bed, frowned at her sleeping gown, and grabbed a robe off the hook on the back of the closet door. The sleeping gown was too sheer, too low-cut to be worn by a woman who slept alone most nights, but she’d been in a distracted state when she threw it on. Gathering the sash of the robe and looping it in a knot, she trekked toward the hall.

Lawd have mercy! Brick was in the bathroom, door wide open, standing in front of the toilet, urinating and holding a colossalsized penis.

She should have backed away, given him some privacy, but God forgive her, she was only human—a lonely female who’d recently endured a lengthy sex drought and then a heartbreaking one-night stand. Mesmerized by Brick’s large package, she stood in the hallway, her hand covering her mouth in awe. Making her move, Thomasina patted her hair and puckered her lips.

“Feeling better, Brick?” she cooed, surprising herself with her own sultry vocals. She sounded uncharacteristically vixen-like, as if she were well-seasoned in seducing younger men.

Taken off guard, Brick quickly stuffed his oversized manhood back inside his boxers. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, embarrassed.

“Feel like talking? You know, about what you’re going through?”

“Nah, I’ll be aiight.” He smiled weakly.

“Taking pills…trying to take your life…”

“I know. I’m sorry ’bout that, Miss Thomasina. I was going through something; I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“You’re only human. I know how it feels to get your heart broken,” she said sincerely. Thomasina shook away the memory of Victor and all the others. She’d never been lucky in love. Her eyes went to the bulge in Brick’s shorts.
I bet he’s good in bed.
She wasn’t thinking about love; her mind was strictly on sex. Hot, torrid, no-strings-attached sex. “You had a rough day.” She looked up in thought. “You know what you need?”

Brick gave her a skeptical look.

“A relaxing bath.” She smiled and twisted the faucets on. Water began filling the tub. She cut a curious eye at Brick’s covered package. His dick strained against his cotton boxers; the imprint was long and wide. With all he was carrying, he was more than capable of rocking her to sleep. Smiling, Thomasina dumped a generous amount of bubble bath.

Brick shook his head. “I don’t…”

“Let me help you get rid of some of that stress,” she said, her suggestive tone leaving no doubt of her carnal desire. She was shocked and slightly amused by her desperate whorishness. Smiling devilishly, she used her hand to test the water temperature.

Her gaze met Brick’s. Her eyes sparkled with lust; he lowered his lashes in embarrassment and then resignedly, pulled off his boxers and stepped into the soapy water.

She thought of her daughter and felt no remorse. Misty was trying to play games with her. That little heifer was trying to take advantage of her generosity by dumping Brick on her. Well, okay then. No point in allowing all this virile masculinity to go to waste. She still couldn’t deal with the scar on Brick’s face, but if she focused on his other cheek, he wasn’t a bad looking young man; not bad at all. Rather handsome in a rugged way. Hell, his looks didn’t matter; she planned on having her eyes squeezed tight while he pumped her with all that youthful, bulging masculinity.

Thomasina soaped up the washcloth and sat on the edge of the tub. Tense, Brick sat in the bubbly water, his back and shoulders straight. She gently rubbed the back of his neck, ran the cloth across his expansive back, trying to relax him with caressing strokes. Using a soap-slicked hand, she caressed the bunching muscles of his shoulders. “Mmm,” she uttered softly, enjoying the feel of hard male muscles beneath her hand. Thomasina massaged his broad, hair-roughened chest, circled his male nipples with her fingertip.

Too large to stretch out in the normal-sized tub, Brick drew up his knees, rested his feet on the ledge at the far end of the tub, his shoulders braced on opposite sides of the spigot, his head lulled in relaxation.

She soaped the hard slab of his belly, tangled her fingers into wiry pubic hair. The closer she got to his phallus, the tighter she clenched her inner muscles together, trying to quell her own building desire.

Large and dark, the smooth, knobbed head of his rod bobbed up and down, creating gentles waves, soft splashes. Suddenly, his stirring manhood burst through the bubbles and surfaced above water. “Miss Thomasina!” Brick uttered in a croaked voice, looking aghast, as if his penis was a wanton entity, acting on its own depraved accord.

Shh!” she hushed him. With a soapy palm, she stroked his straining shaft, giving it permission to swell up—to burst and explode if it needed to. He’d been through hell, fooling with Misty and her new boyfriend, whatshisfacename. If Brick needed to relieve himself of some tension, she’d help him out—she’d get hers later.

She worked Brick over, her hand sliding up and down his swollen staff. In a frenzy of yearning, Brick thrust upward, his hands flailed in wild response to Thomasina’s sensual administrations. Needing to grab hold of something, he tugged on the sash of her robe, unwittingly pulled her robe open, exposing her soft sleeping gown. Thin straps slipping off shoulders, deep cleavage, a valley between voluptuous breasts. His eyes wandered downward, where her thick, toned thighs were bared. Her gown was hitched up, giving a glimpse of dark pubic hair.

Naked and wet, Brick rose from the water. Thomasina snatched a towel from a rack, dried Brick quickly. His nude body was pleasing to her eyes. Hard muscles bulging everywhere. She gave an extra special pat to his big dick. It looked good enough to lick, suck, and fuck—all at once, if possible.

His strong arms reached for Thomasina—scooped her up, handling her with tenderness. Cradling her one hundred and seventy-three pounds as if she were as light as a feather, he glided toward her bedroom.