Brick (Double Dippin') (27 page)

Brick pressed his hand against her shoulder, and inserted small increments of dick…pushing in and then withdrawing, forcing Anya to accept his pace.

“Brick…”

“Not yet,” he uttered, maintaining a slow and relentless drive until his dick was embedded to the hilt. She felt every thick vein, every straining inch of him. Crammed with his throbbing thickness, her muscles seized and clenched so tightly around his girth.

Anya writhed beneath him, her head thrashing as he rode her. Plunging and retreating, and leisurely building her arousal, Brick made the climb to climax a long-lasting and pleasurable journey.

She wrapped her legs around him, tethering him to her until a violent jolt coursed through her body. Her pussy spasmed as it sucked hard on the dick that filled her.

“You finished cumming, babe?” Brick purred with his mouth to her ear.

Caught up in the sweetest orgasm ever, Anya couldn’t respond. The climax rocked her body, stealing her breath and depriving her of coherent speech. All she could do was moan blissfully.

When her thighs fell apart in complete exhaustion, Brick claimed his own pleasure. With an agonized groan, he shafted her harder, delivering deep, long strokes.

He claimed her good pussy. He praised it, remarking on the tight fit, the fragrant scent, and the tangy taste of it.

Guttural cries tore from Brick’s throat, when at last, he spurted his seed deep within her womb. He collapsed on top of her, his face buried between her breasts. Chest heaving, breathing harshly as he struggled for air. A stallion winded from a long, hard ride.

E
vette is standing at the stove cooking my dinner. I’m sitting at the table, hungry as a mufucka and mad about everything. First of all, Fawn stood me up tonight and she’s not picking up my calls. I’m antsy and cranky. My food should be on the table, not being whipped up on the spur of the moment.

“Why can’t I get dinner on time?” I grumble.

“You told me you were cooking a candlelight dinner for you and Fawn.”

“Do you see Fawn in this kitchen?” I look all around, with my eyes bugging.

“I know you’re upset, Kaymar. Fawn doesn’t treat you right. Maybe you’re better off without her,” Evette suggests.

I know she means well, but I get an instant attitude. “I hate it when you start flapping your lips, giving out advice I ain’t ask for.”

She bristles at the criticism. “I was only trying to make you feel better.”

“If you want to make me feel better, get over here and do something constructive with your mouth.”

Evette’s feelings are hurt, but I don’t care. Shit, I’m hurt, too. Fawn is doing me dirty; she’s making a good man go bad.

Rolling my eyes and grumbling at the nerve at that smut bitch for treating me the way she does, I stand up pull and my pants down. I got my Johnson lying across my palm, and my shit is throbbing like it’s as angry as I am.

“Get over here, Evette. Don’t you see how bricked-up my shit is?”

“Okay, one minute,” she says and hastily begins turning off the burners.

In a flash, she on her knees, where she belongs. I steer the head of my dick over to her mouth. She opens it, waiting to gobble up some dark meat. But I ain’t ready to give it to her yet. “Close your damn mouth,” I order.

She promptly obeys, closing her eyes at the same time.

I look over at the butter dish on the table. “Why you set this butter out on the table without any bread? What was I supposed to do with a stick of soft butter?”

She murmurs, prepared to respond. But I smack her lips with my dick, informing her that I’m doing all the talking.

I scoop up a handful of butter and smear it all over my Johnson. Shit is mushy. A different kind of feeling. I like it, though. I wanna jerk my dick off while it’s greased up with butter, but I also want to share it with Evette.

First, I trace around the outside of her lips with the tip of my dick, drawing a greasy outline. Then I gloss up her bottom lip with the butter on my dick. She murmurs a sound, letting me know that she likes it. I coat her top lip next. Her mouth is all shiny like she’s wearing a weird, yellow-tinted lip gloss.

“That looks good.” I’m getting horny. And the hornier I get, the less concerned I am about Fawn.

“You hungry, Evette?” I whisper. She nods her head. “I know I am. But I’m not gon’ be selfish like you are. I’ma feed you this buttery sausage. But you gotta lick all the butter off before I let you have it.”

Her tongue comes out of her mouth, glides over my Johnson, licking off the butter. Lapping on my dick like she hasn’t had a meal in a long time. I watch as her tongue swipes the length of my dick. I’m fully absorbed in the sight of butter on her face and
on her tongue. I can hardly control the ejaculation that’s bubbling in my balls and traveling down my dick. I curl my toes in ecstasy as Evette feasts on my thick, greasy meat. Amazingly, my entire hot sausage disappears inside her mouth.

In an act of wanton passion, I lock my hand around the back of her neck, digging my nails into her flesh as I flood her mouth with my butter-flavored jism.

Instead of feeling satisfied, I feel angrier than ever after I shoot my load. Every blue moon, I get burning mad after I cum. Don’t ask me why. It’s one of my quirks.

I’m feeling so disgusted, I take a swing at Evette. Avoiding my punch, she tumbles over and lands on her ass. Dodging a blow is a natural reflex, but Evette knows how we do…she was supposed to let me get some aggression out on her.

I look down at her. “I hate sluts. You disgust me!” I spit on her, imagining that I’m spitting on Fawn.

Spit, butter and cum are sliding down Evette’s face.

“I gotta go for a walk or something. The way I’m feeling, I might hurt you real bad.”

“Why, Kaymar? I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t know why. I only know that if I don’t get out of here, I’ma start kicking you.”

“Well then, kick me! If that’s what it takes for you to spend some time with me, then do it. Kick me, Kaymar.”

I shake my head. “Don’t even tempt me. Aye? You wanna wind up with some broken ribs?”

“No.”

“Aye, so don’t be talking a bunch of shit. You have no idea what I’m capable of. So don’t be tryna tempt me.”

“I’m not trying to tempt you. I want to spend more time with you, but all you care about is Fawn.”

“Don’t bring up that slut’s name. I gotta go out and get my
mind right,” I say to Evette while she’s pulling herself off the floor.

I run up the stairs and take a quick shower because there’s butter drizzling into my pubic hairs and running down my inner thighs. Shit feels nasty.

Freshly showered and wearing a change of clothes, I grab my container of that Chinese love potion and stick it in my pocket. A lot of the aggression has left me. Now I’m feeling pretty good.

Downstairs, I notice that Evette has wiped the butter, saliva, and cum off her face. She’s back at the stove rattling pots and pans.

“I’ll be back later,” I say as a common courtesy. I really ain’t gotta explain my comings and goings, but the memory of the vigorous way she sucked that butter off my dick is prompting me to treat her nice.

“Your dinner’s almost ready. Do you want me to make you a plate and leave it in the microwave?”

“I’ll eat when I get back in. I gotta get out of here for awhile—chase after some pussy. You know, fuck with some stray pussy so I can keep that slut, Fawn, off my mind.”

“I understand,” she says. The dismal look in her good eye expresses deep sorrow. Her sad expression tugs a little at my heartstring. “I got something good for you, later on. So wait for me in my room. Aye? Me and you gon’ sleep together tonight. Get them sheets hot for your future husband, aye?” I pat her on the ass and wink, hinting at the deep burning that I’m going to put on her butt cheeks, followed by my healing ointment.

Evette brightens. She’s wearing a smug expression as if giving her an ass whoopin’ is better than slut-fucking. She got it twisted. I love Fawn’s dirty drawers and her slutty pussy.

So I say, “But…um…if Fawn comes through while I’m out…you know the drill, grab up your shit and go sleep in the spare room.” I smirk after bursting her bubble and letting her know what’s good. Ain’t nothing fake about me; I keeps shit one hundred!

Using the cell phone that Evette’s broke ass finally bought me, I give Munch a call and ask him if he wants to go out and get into something.

“Whatchu feel like doing?” Munch asks.

“Hunting down some pussy; what else is there to do?”

He laughs. “I can dig it. You want me to see if Blake can get out?”

“Nah. That bull thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

“We need him for transportation,” Munch explains.

“Can’t you hold your mom’s wheels tonight?”

“Nope. She’s bitching about how I keep driving her car and don’t put no gas in it. Said I can’t drive her whip for two weeks.”

“Two weeks! Man, just go in her purse and take the keys.”

“You crazy? My mom don’t play that shit. If I went in her pocketbook and took her keys, she’d whip my ass. I ain’t lying. And on top of that, she probably would make me keep my ass in the house for at least two weeks. I’m serious, yo. My mom was in the military; she’s strict!”

Munch’s relationship with his mom is twisted as shit. A grown man scared to death of his mother. Crazy!

“Aye, well look, I got the number of this freak broad named Detina. She got a friend. I’ma call and see if they’ll come and pick us up. I’ll hit you back in a minute.”

I
called Detina and after she fussed for a few minutes about me taking so long to call her, she agreed to scoop up her girlfriend and come pick me up. I didn’t mention Munch because she was expecting a threesome. On some real shit, I don’t know the rules for a threesome. I gotta get some more experience before I try that shit.

Anyway, I have my Chinese potion on me, so I’ma be stroking them bitches all night. While I’m fucking one…Munch can do his thing on the other.

Suddenly, I pictured the day I met Fawn. Munch went bananas that day. It was hard to control him. Suppose he flips out again?

I hit him up and tell him the good news…that two bitches are on their way to pick us up. Then I remember his wild ways. “Yo, Munch, I’m not tryna offend you but I gotta ask you something—do you have one of those pit bull collars Blake used on you? I’m a little leery about you getting outta hand when we get with these bitches. You know how you can get.”

“I’m not offended. I got a couple of them joints. Do you want me to bring the kind with the long leash or the loop handle?”

“Um…” I think about it. “You gon’ be sniffing that shit?”

“Yeah, I already started,” he says and lets out a soft growl.

“Umph. I might not be able to control you with the long leash, so bring the collar with the loop handle.”

“Aye.”

I’m excited about controlling Munch. Blake thinks he’s the only one that can handle the man, but I know I can do it. I had three or four pit bulls back in the day. Ain’t nothing to it. All you gotta do is yank on the collar and let the dog know that you’re the master. I got this!