Grabbing the dollar store container of Shea butter from my nightstand, I scooped out a half-dollar-sized amount, sliding it up and down my ashy legs, working the grease in. Making sure my whole body was smooth, I sprayed on the Elizabeth Taylor White Diamonds perfume he'd brought me during one of his many visits. I hated this loud-smelling white woman scent but he wouldn't touch me without smelling it on my dark skin. In that weird motherfucker's head, he probably wanted me to smell like Beth so he could fuck his fantasy while smelling his true love at the same time. Sliding on the red bustier set he'd brought me from Victoria's Secret, the thong disappeared into my forty-two-inch ass while my thirty-six C-cup tits set lovely. Damn, I was a fly bitch.
Coming out of the bedroom seeing James stripped down to his tighty-whitey Polo drawers and crisp white Hanes undershirt, the little bulge was a clear sign his pill had taken full effect. He seemed out of place in my scanty, stale-smelling house full of mismatched furniture and outdated electronics. But I wasn't the least bit embarrassed about the way I lived. He'd made it perfectly clear the first time we met through the call service I worked for that he had a fetish for thick black girls. I'd heard it all before: white guys loved our thick curves, fat asses, and the massive explosion they'd get from having our nappy hair wrapped in their hands. I didn't mind playing the stereotypical role. Once he became a regular client, it was easy for me to cut my madam out, allowing him to come straight to my house so I could keep the entire profit for myself. He didn't turn the proposition down because it allowed him to get more uninhibited.
“What are you over there hiding all of that fine chocolate sexiness for?” James looked up from his drink, already drooling. “I done already seen all of what you got. Bring that body over here.” He sounded like a true redneck, like he always did once the liquor got into his system.
“I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, daddy,” I purred. Modeling across the room, I kept my brown eyes glued to his while they eagerly lit up. Once I got in front of him, I started to sway sexily, trying to further arouse him. Turning around, I bent over, letting him smush his face into my round behind as I jiggled knowing it was turning him on. My juices were starting to flow. I loved getting down with this kinky white man. “You love this ass huh? Smack it up, massa!” I was getting all the way into my role and he was also feeling it.
James smacked my ass a few rough times making me jump and breathe hard. He loved taking control. Grabbing my waist, turning me around, he ran his tongue across my neck then to my ear. “You smell delicious, my little blackberryâalmost good enough to eat.” As much as “my Jimmy” loved my cunt and I begged for it, he'd never stick his tongue into this juicy peach. “Get on them knees, girl, and put that smart mouth of yours to use.” Dropping down, seeing his hard pink cock staring me in the face, it was time to get to work and earn my revenue.
James aka Jimmy
Shawntay was a fucking wet dream come to life. I was mesmerized by her dark beauty in every way. Her black body was thick, perfect, and available when I needed it to be. I'd had plenty of black girls service me growing up in a Confederate household, but none were grown up enough to take the degrading things I liked to do. Shawntay fulfilled every fantasy I dreamed of, mimicked every porn star I was in love with, and never once turned her face up when I asked for a rim job. She was the absolute best in bed, nothing like my wife. Beth had been threatening to leave me and end our marriage since finding out my fetish had been happening more regularly; but I wasn't getting ready to give up carrying on Schultz man tradition in any way. We lived dirty by doing filthy things to the help behind closed doors but our family motto was to take our unclean deeds to the grave.
Besides needing Shawntay to fulfill my sexual fantasies, I needed to release this nut because the tension of waiting on multiple investors to help me get my company even further off the ground was overbearing. Beth was pregnant, our bills were growing, and my mother was slowly running through the estate money my dad left to her. The burden was heavy on me to provide for my entire family; my father would've expected no less.
Shawntay was going to town on my pink pecker. I could feel the mixture of drool and my pre-cum running down to my ball sac but never once did she slow down or come up for air.
This bitch is the fucking best!
Moaning loudly, I was getting lost in how hot she looked gripping my white cock with her dark fingers. “Slurp it all up you little slut,” I whispered through clenched teeth, grabbing her head. Feeling her tongue tickle my shaft, I gripped two handfuls of her kinky hair, using them as reins as I used all of my force to thrust my hips to meet her mouth. Her slurping sounds were turning me on even more. “Get down on the floor and spread 'em wide, tootsie.”
I gotta give it to her good. I know she's accustomed to horse-hung black men.
I bet he couldn't let fuck Beth like this; her flat booty and prude attitude probably couldn't take all of Jimmy's stamina. I allowed him to climb on top of me to do his business until he fell over drunk and sweaty. I worked hard for my dollar. “Damn, Jimmy, you're working this fat cat out. You're so big and good!” It was all part of the game, even though he wasn't half bad at this.
After twenty minutes of him panting, trying his best to be the best fuck of my life, his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he let out a loud scream. “I'm about to unload this thick cream up in you!” Within two seconds I could feel his hot sperm shooting up in me. “I love black pussy!” After Jimmy pulled out, letting his now-flaccid penis fall limp to the left, my vagina was leaking globs of his semen.
I keep telling his Shawnta-loving ass I ain't on no birth control pill.
Shannon aka Butter
“What up, Butter baby? I see you came in early to take some of these bum bitches' money.” Dazz, the DJ of Bare Faxxx, laughed when he saw me walk in.
“You already know it, my baby.” I smiled, making my way to the bar. “I'm trying to get winning and stay that way.”
“Don't I know it. Well, if you ain't too tired after mopping the club with these bitches, holla at ya mans for a private dance. I've got dollars.” Dazz stayed flirting with me and every other dancer in the club. None of us took him serious but all of us took trips into the booth with him. He always made good on his word to fill our thongs with even more.
“We'll see how the night goes no doubt.” I winked before turning to order my drink from the bar. I might've had no problem getting raunchy for some greenbacks but I had to have my liquor to do so. “Hey, Dolly, let me get a double shot of PatrÃ³n.”
Dolly was the bartender who kept all of us extra fucked up while we got our jobs done. She'd always put a little extra in the dancers' drinks knowing we'd have to take any and every patron getting as frisky as they wanted. Frank, the manager, with his dark-haired, musty, Chaldean self didn't believe in giving his paying patrons rulesâespecially with so many of them owning business around this small dump.
“Afternoon, Butter.” Dolly slid the shot glass across the bar. “Imagine seeing you up this early after last night.”
“Girl, bye. You know this shit is like water to me; it's nothing.” Tilting the glass back, taking the shot down halfway, I had to remember I'd be here for the long haul, probably 'til two o'clock. I was on a paper chase, hungry to feed my habits, so getting drunk straight in the door wasn't a good idea. Plus I had my own bottle stashed away in my duffel bag to keep the money I made pocketed.
“I would get hammered too if I had to deal with these petty-ass bitches.” She rolled her eyes, running her hands through her long weave. Dolly was never part of the drama but always stayed in the drama. I knew these wannabe skeezers had it out for me so she didn't need to add her two cents. But it was all part of the club mentality.
“I ain't worried about them, Doll. If it ain't green with dead presidents on it, Butter ain't meltin'.” It was a daily endeavor to deal with the amount of attitude these girls served up to me because of my natural beauty. I couldn't help that I could serve what my momma gave me.
“I feel that, honey. I wouldn't be slowing up either for these hating bitches. Make that money!” Reaching over, giving me a high five, we laughed for a moment 'til I caught Isis staring coldly from the sideline. She was the main mad-hating trick. Isis wasn't ugly in the face if you liked 'em extra black with thick lips and a big nose. If it wasn't for her DD chest, forty-inch ass, and pole climbing techniques, she would've been an alley cat for sure. I ain't give a fuck though 'cause her hustle wasn't slowing my grind.
“Here we go!” Taking a second thought then gulping my drink, it was time to get in rare form so I could handle Isis. “Is there something I can do for you, babe? Can I buy you a drink or something?” Turning toward my nemesis, I was taunting her on purpose. “I know shit around here has been slow for you lately.”
“Bitch, you ain't in my pile. It's definitely straight over this way.” She looked herself up and down, admiring her own body. “Every nigga who walk through this door ain't checking for your mix-breed ass. Believe that!”
“Again I ask then, Isis, why you all in my grill over here checking for me?” Rolling my eyes, snatching my bag up, I wasn't getting ready to entertain this li'l monkey any longer with the lunch doors getting ready to open. “Today ain't the day, Isis. Please do you and let me do me. It's money to be made.” Turning my back on her and walking away, I wasn't the least bit intimidated or worried about her attacking me from the back. Not only was Dolly there to break us up if something popped off, Isis didn't have her homegirls to back her up. No one moved in the club solo-dolo but me.
“Yo' drunk ass probably gonna be passed out before dinnertime. Keep clutching that bottle.”
I ignored Isis, letting the locker room door close out her still-irritating voice. She wasn't getting ready to say anything I hadn't already heard. Growing up in the hood with light eyes, long, soft hair, super light skin, and getting picked up in a Mercedes-Benz once a week made me stand out to be bullied by all the kids in the neighborhood. I'd been called everything from an Oreo to a wigger. It ain't shit these money-hungry heffas could call me that the cruel kids in the hood hadn't already run into the ground.
Unzipping my duffel bag, pulling my first custom-made outfit out, I was getting ready to stunt on these hoes big time. Stan Dilbert was hosting a Rebuild Detroit conference at Cobo Hall, so the tables were expected to be overflowing with associates paid out of their mind like him. I'd worked the Friday nightshift when all of his low-level employees partied hard, tipping me their checks. And if their hourly paychecks afforded to pay my car note, rent, and bills while accommodating my wardrobe and alcohol taste, I could only imagine what the real CEO/owner was working with. Signaling for the makeup artist so she could put me down for a spot, I slid my clothes off in preparation to transform.
“A'ight you filthy-rich bastards, get them cards out 'cause we're now accepting plastic. Coming to the stage for your lunch special delight is the infamous Butter!”
Bare Faxxx was packed with white faces all with loose-collared business shirts and hanging ties. With hunger in their eyes, they watched, drooling like dogs as I walked onto the stage. These men were craving to see my lustrous body bend over, twirl, and gyrate. Their wish was my command as I saw big bills, dollar bills, and credit cards fly up into the air. Dressed in an electric-blue sequin stretch leather set, the G-string itself had been swallowed by my two cheeks while the bra barely held my tits up. Stripping the tip off, I jiggled then played with my nipples, making even more dollars fly.
Yeah, Butter, let's take these white boys for a ride.
Moving across the stage, giving them all equal attention, I needed to milk their pockets just right so Butter could become more than just a household name. I was trying to be bigger than the game.
“Let me see that fat ass bounce, girl! Climb that pole! It's definitely Butter, baby!” Rolling my eyes, biting my lip, I fell right into line hip rolling then twerking for my fans.
G'on and take their money. You can drink, smoke, and snort hella good tonight.
It didn't take much for me to fall into my “get money by any means” trance. I could tell why the other dancers felt inferior when I came on the set; no matter how much I hated myself, my flawless beauty and curved physique couldn't be denied. These men were craving me like addicts but I was down to fulfill whatever dirty desires they had. Bending over, letting the cold pole slide up and down my chubby cheeks, I saw dollars flying onto the stage but I was just getting warmed up.
“You want some of this?” I ground my kitten while whispering to a few of the men who'd become brave enough to come front and center to the stage. “G'on and pay for it.” I was more like Jimmy than I liked to admit. I loved the power and control I'd get over guys with my pussy. It was more than amazing! Feeling their clammy palms gripping on my legs, running across my inner thighs, and trying to steal feels on my twat, I pulled back a little all in the game of trying to tease them. Dropping to the floor, I cat-crawled across the stage toward the pole, getting ready to put on an all-star performance. I could see Isis standing to the side with her face curled up, knowing I was shutting any chances she had at making money today down.
“Come on, redbone! Don't keep us waiting; work that motherfucking pole!” These suited-up men were ready for me to get the party started, obviously. Scanning the club, I saw Dolly keeping the drinks flowing while Frank watched me back with a stern eye. He took his breadwinners very seriously. Seeing Isis griming me from the sideline, I winked then twerked a little harder just for her.
I know it's hard to see your money dwindle down, baby girl. I've been on the broke side of the tracks once beforeâwasn't shit nice about it!
“You can rock my shit any day. That ass is fat, light skin.”
Feeding off of the cheers, rants, and whorish names they called me, I climbed the pole like the Energizer Bunny, ready to stunt from the rafters. Flipping upside down, spreading my legs wide, I popped my ass ferociously as dollar bills flew onto the stage.
That's what the fucks I'm talking about.
Sliding back down the pole into the splits, I was feeling a rush as more men flocked over onto the stage, ready to tip me swell. Up and at 'em, spreading my thong to the side, I exposed a peek at my bare cat, ready to get flooded with even more cash.
“Yeah, fellas, show Butter some love. It's time to get your private dances on. Twenty bucks a set!” Dazz started an uproar as I sashayed off stage heading for the locker room.
Frank had employees strictly in place to collect our piles of cash so I wasn't worried about coming up short. With a roomful of horny white men turned up ready to touch, pull, and grab, I needed my liquid courage to finish the job. Yeah, it was about to be a long day with an even longer night ahead.