Slippery When Wet: A Novel (Zane Presents) (28 page)

She grunts. “Oh, fuck, I’m cum…ming…mmmm…oooooh, yessss…”

I grunt along with her. “Yeah, baby…aaah, shit, I’m cummin’ wit’ you.”

She screams out, and comes and comes and comes. My grunts deepen as I keep thrusting into, grinding the base of my cock against my clit. A few minutes more, and I slip outta her, then
quickly plunge my tongue in, flapping it around her wetness, pulling her juices out, slurping her nut into my mouth. I do this as a diversion. As a way to pull off my condom and stuff my dick back into my pants before she can turn around and wanna see it, throat it. She rocks her hips, her pussy clenching my tongue.

“Ooooh, yesss…I’m coming again.”

My mouth cups over her clit and I suck it as her body shakes. She rides my lips and tongue. Afterward, I climb into the front seat and crack open the steamed windows while she straightens herself. She climbs into the passenger seat.

“Whew, that was good.” She runs a hand through her hair, then uses her fingers to fluff it out. “I feel like I need a cigarette now.” She pulls her cell outta her purse.

“Glad you enjoyed it, ma,” I say, cranking the engine.

“Yeah, you did that, boo.” She hands me her phone. “I’ma need you to lock your number into my phone.”

Shit. I hit her with one of my pre-paid jump-offs. I hand it back to her. She leans over and cups my cheeks. “Listen, ma. Real shit—” she smashes her lips against mine, tryna suck the air from my lungs. Her kiss is rough, real hungry, at first then softens. Her tongue slips inside of my mouth, swirls around mine. She sucks on it. Tastes her pussy on it.

She pulls back and we are both breathless. Her eyelids lift, and she looks me in the eyes. Hers are full of lust. I can tell she wants some more of this dick. Probably wants more than what I can give, or am willing to give, without her uncovering my secret.

“Thanks for bringing the freak out of me.”

I grin, driving up closer toward the club’s entrance. “No doubt, ma.”

She opens the door, leaning in and kissing me quickly on the side of the mouth. “I’ll call you.”

“Cool.” I eye her as she shuts the door and walks back toward the club. I pull off, tapping the horn, then peeling off, heading toward the parkway. I glance over and smile, grabbing the silky fabric she’s left in the passenger seat. I reach for her panties. Bring them to my nose and inhale, holding the scent of her pussy in, committing it to memory. Yeah, she most def had some good pussy.

•  •  •

A few days later, me and some’a my bros, Prince, Scooter, and Jack—are down at the Fish Basket, a hot lil stripper joint flooded with hot femme bitches shakin’ them moneymakers mad fast ‘n’ nasty. We’re sitting in a booth, swag on ten, laced up in our Timbs, crisp white Tees, fitted caps, and jeans—poppin’ mad shit ‘n’ tossing back shots of Rèmy XO, eyeing the action.

“Yo, this niggah right here,” Prince says, flicking his thumb over toward me, “stays missin’ in action.”

Jack laughs. “You know that niggah stays on the prowl.”

I wave ’em on. “Whatever, muhfuckas. I’m doin’ me.”

“Damn, that bitch is bad,” Prince says, pointing to a big-booty, caramel-skinned cutie with tassels dangling from her long, dark nipples. Her tits are mad small, though.

“She’s a’ight,” I comment, tossing back another shot of Yak. Glad her ass has moved onto something else other than what I’m doing. “Them titties too small for me, though.”

“She’s ‘a’ight’? Niggah, is your crazy?” She shakes her head.

I shake my head. “Nah, I’m dead-ass. She look a’ight.”

She tisks. “You stylin’, yo. That bitch is fiiyah, son.”

I shoot her a look. “Yeah, a’ight. And she still got ’lil itty-bitty titties, muhfucka.”

“I ain’t checkin’ for her boobs, niggah. You see the basket on that
bitch, yo? That ass fat as shit.” She grabs at her crotch. “Word is bond, yo. I’d run this dick all up in that juicy muhfucka.”

Scooter throws a balled-up napkin at Prince, pulling out his cell. “Muhfucka, ya horny-ass stay tryna run ya dick up in sumthin’. Ya ass gonna fuck ’round and catch some shit you can’t get rid of.”

Prince gives Scooter the middle finger. “Catch that, pussy-whipped muhfucka. I ain’t catchin’ shit, bruh. I stays strapped. But you, on the other hand,”—Prince points at her—“ ’bout to catch another smack down if you don’t have ya ass home by eleven.”

Jack and I laugh.

“Yo, fuck outta here, muhfucka. Smack down hell. Queesha don’t run shit over here.”

Scooter is a five-six, baldhead, Hershey chocolate, masculine muhfucka with a mad thick neck, and seven-inch scar from her left cheek to her jaw compliments of her jealous-ass wifey. Three years ago, she caught Scooter grinding up on some other broad at a party and rolled up on her with her blade in her hand and did her dirty. The crazy-ass broad got her for about eighty-stitches, that time. Another time, she cut up all her shit ‘n’ tried to set a niggah on fire in her sleep. And you’d think Scooter’s dumb ass woulda dipped on her nutty ass by now. Nope. She still with that crazy bitch.

Prince smirks. “Yeah right. Don’t answer that phone, muhfucka, and let’s see what happens. Tomorrow you’ll be comin’ out to the courts wit’ two black eyes.”

I crack up laughing. “Yo, real shit, son. Ya girl do be fuckin’ ya lil ass up, yo.”

Scooter sucks her teeth. “Fuck y’all muhfuckas.” Her phone stops ringing, then starts up again. “Fuck! Let me get this shit before this bitch start buggin’.”

We all laugh at her. “See. I tol’ y’all her ass is pussy-whipped,” Prince says, eyeing the broad with the big ass up on the stage.

Scooter gives Prince the middle finger, answering her phone. “Yo, what the fuck, Queesha…fuck! A’ight. I know, damn. Why can’t you relax, yo? I’ma be home in a few. Damn. I’m sayin’…why the fuck is you buggin’…?”

We eye Scooter as she leaves the booth beefing with her girl. Jack tells us she ’bout to go to the other side of the club to shoot a round of pool over in the pool area. She grabs her drink and dips. Prince and I stay in our seats. I pour myself another shot.

Prince nods over at the stage. “Yo, son, I bet you that bitch got some good pussy.”

“I ain’t gonna front, bruh, she def caked up in the back, yo.”

“Real shit, yo.…I’ma bag that tonight,” Prince says confidently, bobbing her head to the music and eyeing the stripper as she drops down to the floor and starts crawling on her hands and knees like a hungry panther on the hunt for her next mark.

I laugh. “Pretty muhfucka, you stay fuckin’ with them strippers, yo. And you know most of ’em ratchet as hell.”

She grins. “Shit, muhfucka. Ain’t nothing wrong wit’ a lil’ ratchet pussy e’ery now and then; that shit be good as hell, son. And them ratchet bitches suck a mean dick.”

I shake my head, laughing at her silly ass, eyeing this light-skinned broad, Peaches, with big bouncy titties just the way I dig ’em. She’s rocking a shiny silver halter-top and matching thong. She shakes her jiggly ass in front of a few niggahs, then makes her way over to us when she see them niggahs ain’t giving her no play.

She licks her lips at me. “What’s good, Reg? Hey, Prince. Y’all lookin’ like you could use a good time.” She cups her titties, then slides a tongue over her nipples. “What can I do for y’all tonight?”

“Not a damn thing, ma,” Prince says, shooing her outta the way. “I already got my eye on someone. But you can hook my niggah up wit’ a lap dance, then maybe a lil extra, feel me?”

“Nah, yo, I’m good,” I say, peeling off a few bills, then slipping them inside the front of her thong.

She smiles, leaning into my ear. “Reg, baby, you fine as hell. If you change your mind, let me know. I’ve been wanting to fuck you for a minute.” She flicks my ear with her tongue.

I grin. “Oh, word? You wanna fuck?”

She nods, snapping her fingers to a Lil Wayne joint and popping her pussy up in my face. She smells like coconut oil and pineapple. “Reggie, you know I’m big on you, boo. All you gotta do is say the word and this pussy is yours?”

“Oh, a’ight. I’ll keep that in mind.” I slap her on the ass, then watch her move on to her next potential mark.

Prince eyes me, shaking her head. I frown. “What, muhfucka?”

“That biscuit’s feelin’ you, yo. I don’t know why you don’t get up off ya bullshit ‘n’ get wit’ the program.”

I wave her on. “Tsk. Man, I ain’t thinkin’ ’bout that broad. You know I don’t get down wit’ strippers like that.”

“Yo fuck that. I heard that bitch got some good pussy ‘n’ can suck a mean dick.”

I shrug. “Good for her. I ain’t on her like that. All that broad’s good for is a lap dance e’ery now ‘n’ then. But givin’ her this dick ain’t it.”

Prince looks at me like I’m crazy. “Yo, ain’t nobody sayin’ you gotta marry the ho. Just fuck her. The bitch practically throws the pussy on you e’erytime we come up in this muhfucka.”

I glance over at the stage, takin’ a swig of beer. There’s a tall, thin brown-skinned chick wearing a silver sequined bra and thong and a pair of high-ass platform heels up on the stage, twirling herself around one of the poles. Niggahs start throwing them dollars up when she drops to the floor, then starts doing backbends and Russian splits, bouncing to the beat of Juicy J’s “Bands
That Make Her Dance.” She goes into a handstand, then starts popping her ass.

“Real shit, Reg, you stay buggin’, yo.”

I peel my eyes from the stage, looking at her. “Buggin’ how?”

“All this pussy up in here and you ain’t tryna fuck.” She shakes her head. “Yo, keep it gee, son. When’s the last time you stretched out butt-ass naked in a bed and fucked a shorty down real good?”

I blink, caught off-guard by the question. Real shit, I can’t remember the last time I kicked back and got this dick sucked right, then rolled up into some pussy. I shrug. “Fuck if I know, yo. Why?”

“Shit, niggah.” She points over at Peaches. “That bitch ready to fuck the skin off ya shit and you ain’t goin’ for it.”

“Yo, I already tol’ you. I ain’t beat for none’a these broads, man.”

She frowns. “Oh, what? They ain’t straight enough for you, is that it? I know you gotta be tired of frontin’. You spend more time gettin’ ass in the backseat of whips ‘n’ shit, misleading bitches…”

“Yo, hol’ up, fam, you comin’ outta pocket, now. I ain’t even ’bout to have this convo with you, yo. I like what I like. You like what you like. Let’s leave it at that, yo.”

“A’ight, whatever, yo,” she says, motioning for the stripper chick she’s been eyeing practically all night over for a lap dance. “Yo, let me get a lap dance, ma?”

She grins. “Anything for you, sexy.” She cuts her eyes over at me, and winks. “You wanna be next?” She introduces herself as Wet-Wet.

Prince grins. “Wet-Wet, huh? Why they call you that, ma?”

“ ’Cause I gotta extra wet pussy. You wanna feel how wet it gets?”

Prince slaps her on the ass. “Then grind up on this dick ‘n’ let me see how wet that shit gets, baby. Yo, Reg, you sure you don’t want next?”

“Nah, I’m good. Do you.” I toss back another shot, glancing at
my watch. It’s a lil after midnight. I feel like dipping up outta here ‘n’ hitting up a straight spot. But I know I’m all tanked up ‘n’ ain’t tryna get pulled over by the Po-Po then end up wit’ a DUI or some shit all ’cause I’m out prowling for some pussy.

Prince gives me the finger as Wet-Wet straddles her, then starts grinding into her lap. Prince cups both of Wet-Wet’s titties in her hands, then starts squeezing them. “Yo, fam, you need to feel these soft-ass tits, yo.” I tell her I’m good, watching as Wet-Wet rides Prince to the beat of the music, every so often glancing over at me and winking.

I pour myself another drink. Two songs later, Prince is seventy-five bucks lighter and ready to fuck. She grabs Wet-Wet by the arm. “Yo, how ’bout you hook me ‘n’ my boi up wit’ sumthin’ a lil more private?”

“Nah, I’m—”

Prince shoots me a look, cutting me off. “Relax, son. I got this.” I shake my head, filling my shot glass with more Remy. Truth is I could use a good dick suck, and maybe some ass. “So what’s good, ma? We freakin’?”

She looks over at me, then back at Prince. “It’s fifty for the first fifteen minutes.”

Prince flashes her a knot of paper. “I’m tryna wear that ass out. That shit you talkin’ ain’t shit.”

She smiles. “Give me like five minutes,” she replies, leaning into Prince’s ear and whispering. Prince slaps her on the ass, opening and closing her legs. Judging by the way Prince is grabbing at her dick I know Wet-Wet musta said something mad nasty to her.

Prince nods. “Yeah, a’ight. Don’t be frontin’ either, yo.”

“I don’t front, boo. I do what I do. I’ll be back in a few to show ‘n’ prove.” We both eye her as she walks off, her fatty bouncing ‘n’ swaying as she moves through the crowd.

“Word is bond, yo. Her ass is softer than muhfuckin’ cotton. We ’bout to bust that shit wide open, yo.”

“Nah, fam. I ain’t tryna fuck that broad, yo. I tol’ you, I’m good.”

“Fuck outta here wit’ that dumb shit, yo. You ain’t good, niggah. Lyin’ muhfucka. Don’t front, niggah. You not about to sit here ‘n’ gee me, son. You wanna fuck, don’t you?”

I laugh. “Yo, niggah, you funny as hell.”

“Funny hell, muhfucka. I know you miss havin’ a pretty bitch down on her knees sucking ya dick. Tell me you don’t miss that shit, yo.”

I frown. “Muhfucka, I get my shit sucked.”

She gives me a “yeah right” look. “When, niggah? When you ain’t somewhere lurkin’ around tryna scheme on some straight pussy? When’s the last time any of them bitches sucked ya shit, yo?”

I shift in my seat, tossing back another shot. “I don’t know. It’s been a minute.”

She laughs.

“Yo, I ain’t tryna hear that shit.”

“Whatever, son. Riddle me this: Why them straight bitches ain’t suckin’ ya shit?” She snaps her fingers. “Oh, wait. That’s right. They don’t know you ain’t no real niggah.” She starts laughing.

“Yo, suck my dick, niggah.”

“Hahaha! You too busy eatin’ the pussy from the back, then runnin’ ya dick up in it. Yo, real shit. Ya shit’s s’posed to stay wet, niggah. You s’posed to have a few cock-washers on ya team at all times. You gettin’ you some ass tonight…on me. I’m let you hit that shit, first, then I’ma sink this dick way up in that shit, while you knock them tonsils out.”