To my surprise who turned out to be a baby boy!
Zion, Mommy loves you!
To my mom and dad for being my number one fans!
Every day is Christmas
And every night is New Year’s Eve…
played smoothly in the background as Yuri pressed the rim of her champagne-filled flute to her “Oh Baby” MAC-covered lips, leaving the imprint of a kiss behind. Caught in a daydream, she stroked the left side of her shoulder-length hair and toyed with the idea of making love to Britt. Hit it and quit it. Fulfill her big-dick-Rastafarian fantasy, then return to her fictitious role of the Christian Stepford wife. After all, she knew jonesin’ for Britt’s dick was on the losing end of the game.
Nevertheless, she still let Britt flirt and feel her ass in Port of Spain as they sang and winded onstage. She’d sung a soca duet with him, though she really didn’t want to since she was American, but he convinced her that it was okay. Britt said that once people took in her thick thighs, voluptuous ass and the way heaven rang from her throat, they would be too caught up in the music to wonder which part of the world she was from. And she believed him, so she flew to Trinidad, got onstage, let her voice flow and the crowd went wild, confirming for her that no one would ever believe she was a Brooklyn-born “Yankee gurl” with a high-school diploma and a Medical Records degree.
“I told you not to take yo’ fat ass, didn’t I?” Jeff spat. “I don’t know what the fuck is yo’ problem, Yuri!” For a brief moment she’d forgotten her husband was on speakerphone singing his nightly praises into the intercom. “You just a fat fuckin’ pain in the ass sometimes. I swear, what the hell are you really doing there? Huh? It ain’t like you can sing that great, Yuri! If you wanna sing so bad, why don’t you join the church choir instead of gyratin’ yourself on some stage! Do something positive for once. I really don’t understand how I survived tolerating you this long!”
Yuri could hear Jeff’s son in the background. “Daddy,” Jeff Jr. said, “can we call my mommy?”
“Wait one minute,” Jeff responded in a much kinder tone. “I need to deal with your stepmother first.” He turned his attention back to the phone. “Actually, we gon’ skip all this ra-ra and you just gon’ bring yo’ fat fuckin’ ass home. You hear me, Yuri?!”
“Uhmmm hmmm.” She stood on the balcony, watching the fete down below.
“Well, then good, now what you gon’ do?”
“I’ma take my fat ass downstairs and go handle some business.” And she hung up. When the phone rang two seconds later, she didn’t answer; instead she took off her tri-colored gold wedding band and left it spinning on the hotel’s nightstand, next to the complimentary Bible and the free notepad.
From the moment Yuri stepped onto the lanai the party was jumping. Flags were flying, music was blasting, drinks were floating and people were everywhere. Without hesitation Yuri began to dance. She could bet her last dollar that Jeff had called her back at least ten times to give her the same sappy-ass apology, which usually followed his tirades and consisted of “I love you” and “I miss you.” All of which she’d grown tired of hearing around the same time she got sick of faking orgasms.
Unable to stop staring as Yuri danced, Britt sipped his beer and leaned against the bar. Two rows of neon lights, which hung over his shoulders, illuminated the perfect shape of her apple ass.
Yuri danced, spun around and then spotted Britt. Despite her best efforts, a wide smile spread across her face. Everything about Britt raised perfection to another level. His long and beautiful dreads, which usually hung midway down his back, were now wrapped in a sexy bun and covered with a traditional red-yellow-and-green Rastafarian mesh head wrap. The veins on the sides of his thick chocolate neck ran into his broad shoulders, leading directly to his well-defined six-pack, which Yuri could see the details of clearly through his knit wife-beater.
Britt stared at Yuri for as long as he could stand. He prayed that his hard dick would stay calm until just the right moment. Then the DJ played a live recording of the duet they’d sung earlier. And that’s when it clicked. That was the moment.
Britt walked over to Yuri with a cold beer in one hand, and placed the other around her waist. “You know, I’ve been watching you,” he whispered in her ear.
“I noticed that.” She laughed, nervously running her fingers through the silky curls that framed her face. Her skin was the color of light and sweet coffee, her eyes were brown sugar, and her dimples sparkled like diamonds when she smiled. She bore a striking resemblance to Chilli from the group TLC, taking after her Native American father; however, her attitude, culture and brick-house hips came from her voluptuous black mother.
As Britt’s cool breath hit against the side of her face, her erotic pearl swelled and her pussy ached. “Every time I turned to look at something,” Yuri said as her stomach flipped into knots, “you were in my way.”
“I was trying to be in your way,” he said rubbing his cold beer against her right cheek. Drops of water ran down the side of her neck, finding refuge between her breasts.
Yuri bit hard on her bottom lip. She hadn’t been this nervous since she accepted her husband’s marriage proposal. Unsure if Britt was drunk or not, she took a deep breath and stuttered, “A-A-Are-you oh-kay?”
“I warned him…” Britt sang in a low tone in her ear, “not to sleep at night, ’cause a dirty ole Rasta like me…would take his wife….”
“You’ve drunk a little too much,” she laughed.
“I can handle my liquor,” he said as he placed a series of soft bites down the side of her neck. “Now I need to know how to handle you. Would you be better on top or the bottom?”
“Depends,” Yuri said nervously as she caressed the sides of his face, leading him to kiss the palms of her hands, “on how you wanna start.”
Licking between her fingers he said, “I’ll start with my mouth.” He rubbed the crease of her vagina through her flowing sundress.
Yuri closed her eyes and Britt ran his free hand across her hard nipples and then squeezed one between his thumb and index finger. “I don’t know, Britt….” She hesitated. “I wonder if we would be doing the right thing.”
He pressed his hands on both sides of her ass, the sweat from the beer bottle soaking through her dress. “I don’t wanna wonder, I wanna fuck and find out. I’m feeling the hell outta you, and I know you’re married, but for real—no lie—I don’t give a fuck. I considered caring once, but soon decided that was your husband’s problem.”
“How we gon’ face each other in the morning?”
“Depends on how we lay down.”
“I don’t wanna lose our friendship.”
“We’re adding to it.” Britt held Yuri around the waist and they rocked slowly from side to side. She could feel his hard dick pressed against her.
“You said that before and you left me. Besides, it’s different now. Jeff and I are
“I know you’re married, I was at the ceremony.” He held her ring finger and kissed the imprint her wedding band had left behind. “And stop worrying about me leaving; just understand that I’m here now.”
She placed her head against his chest, “How we gon’ do this?”
“Quietly,” he assured her. “Just come with me. Skip the hotel, let me take you in the Trace and make love to you under a Julie mango tree. Let the high grass blow in the night’s wind while I lick your pussy dry. So, tell me, you comin’ with me?”
“Yes…but just this once.”
“Just once?” he whispered. “You gon’ cum more than once.”
Here’s the fantasy: You got da bomb pussy. Here’s the reality: There’re a million bitches capable of takin’ yo’ man. So either you gon’ bring it or be left at home wishing you had. And regret is not what Drae married Hassan for. She was in it to win it and she knew there could be no sexual limits or inhibitions if she didn’t want another broad stealing her husband; especially since he was all she had.
She was a Brooklyn-born-Red-Hook-raised-around-da-way chick who didn’t have shit when they first met except an inherited section-eight apartment, a few college credits, a headstone-marked
and a pair of mashed bamboo earrings with
in one ear and
in the other.
Hassan had taken Drae from the piss-filled hallways of the gutter-most to the cathedral ceilings of the utmost, and there was no way she was gon’ let some hungry bitch take the food out her mouth. They’d have to get up early in the morning to rock with Drae, because as far as she was concerned, in her pussy was where Hassan Shaw was gon’ stay. Fuck all the shit that lay in between. It didn’t matter that she was straight and didn’t really wanna do this bitch spread out in her bed. What mattered was what Hassan had asked her to do. Besides she wasn’t trying to beef, she was trying to eat. And seeing that producing and directing pornos is how her man got down, she knew she had to do what she had to do, and not let something like being the object of one of his auditions get in the way.
Drae could look at the bitch sprawled across the bed with diamonds draped around her neck and an open fox fur wrapped around her, revealing her naked body and giving sneak peeks of her clean-shaven pussy, and tell that she thought she was handling it. Lee-Lee Lickme was her name and, according to Hassan, she had the hottest pussy since before Apollonia was old and Vanity became Christian.
Even Drae had to admit that this chick was a bad bitch, with the prettiest titties she’d ever seen, the type that men always wanted to kiss and women went to plastic surgeons to get. She was the color of cognac and her eyes were black and hollow like a stray cat’s.
Drae stood in the bedroom’s double doorway with her left index finger suggestively in her mouth. She was dressed in a gold Frederick’s of Hollywood leather, crotchless, one-piece corset and matching satin stilettos. Her nude thigh-highs, which were connected to her corset by suspenders, felt hot against her skin as she wondered what wet pussy would taste like. Would it be sweet like Hassan always said, or salty and sticky like it was when she tasted her own?
As she walked in she looked around their Westchester bedroom, catching glimpses of their imported Italian furniture, cherrywood floors, Waterford crystal chandelier, open French doors, the sprawling second-floor terrace and the flowing, well-manicured lawn that went on as far as the eye could see.
She psyched herself to believe that doing this would make her worth as a wife go through the roof, and would nail her ambition of never being left.
The heels of her shoes made music against the hardwood floor as she sauntered toward the bed.
“Sunshine”—Hassan licked his lips as he looked at Drae, calling her by a spontaneous nickname he’d just given her—“this is Lee-Lee; and Lee-Lee, this is Sunshine.” He smiled and cupped Drae’s chin as she walked by him. “You know I love you, right?”
Hassan walked across their master suite and sat on the other side of the room. His dick hadn’t thumped like this in years and his hard-on made it somewhat difficult for him to walk and not jerk off. He poured himself a shot of Hennessy and lit a cocaine-laced cigar before taking his seat on the chaise and watching the two women.
“Don’t be nervous.” Lee-Lee stroked Drae’s clit. “I know you been waitin’ on it.” She eased out of her fur.
“You know this?” Drae arched one of her eyebrows, climbing onto the bed. She climbed over Lee-Lee and, since they were the same height, they were pussy to pussy. Drae stroked Lee-Lee’s hair back and kissed her, pulling her bottom lip in and out of her mouth. She did her best to pretend that Lee-Lee was a man and that she was preparing to ride the biggest dick in the world.
Lee-Lee massaged Drae’s ass as both women gyrated their hips. Their breasts pressed against each other’s as they kissed hungrily, like long-lost lovers. Breaking the kiss, Drae slipped one of Lee-Lee’s nipples into her mouth. Unlike Hassan’s nipples, which she always loved to suck, Lee-Lee had no hard chest that Drae could press her lips on; instead there was a cottony fullness that weighed heavily on Drae’s tongue.
Taking the nipple from her mouth and rolling it between her fingers, Drae bent over and whispered in Lee-Lee’s ear, “I thought you ’spose to be a star.”
“I am,” Lee-Lee said doing her best to stop trembling.
“Then, why am I doing all the work?” Drae rolled to the side and lay flat on the bed. She opened her legs. “I want you to tell me what’s on your mind when your tongue enters the pussy.”
Thinking that she’d met her match, Lee-Lee turned and looked at Hassan before she climbed on top of Drae.
“He’s not joining us, baby.” Drae turned her head back around. “I want you to focus on mama and live up to that name you got.” Lee-Lee climbed between Drae’s legs, opened the lips to her sweetness and began sucking her erotic sugar. “Tell me,” Drae moaned. “I want you to tell me why you like pussy.”
Instead of responding, Lee-Lee licked Drae like a cat lapping up spilled milk.
“Wait a minute, baby.” Drae stopped her. “You gotta talk to me. You ’spose to be a hungry bitch—you better work for this nut your lips about to get.”
“Such a good fuckin’ pussy,” Lee-Lee practically stuttered, her tongue tied by desire. She licked Drae from one side to the other, and the feel of Drae’s clit rising and falling in her mouth drove both of them wild. The taste of Drae’s pussy was so wicked that Lee-Lee shouted, “Sunshine!”
Lee-Lee couldn’t believe that she thought she was coming here to turn Drae out, and here Drae’s inexperienced pussy tasted so good she swore she was eating melting chocolate. Something had to be wrong. She was tempted to call Hassan over and ask him if he had ever licked this shit and, if so, what possessed him to stop. She knew if she had a pussy like this at home she would keep it on lock.
“What you thinkin’, boo?” Drae asked, feeling her orgasm ready to pour from her throbbing middle like lava. “You thinkin’ ’bout marriage? Give me one lick for no and two licks for yes.”
“Uhmm, thought so.”
“Always being able to eat this pussy?”
“Uhmmmm…I know.” Drae moaned as she came, her candy sliding down Lee-Lee’s throat. “That’s it.” Drae grabbed the back of her hair and pushed Lee-Lee’s face in deeper. “Eat it up, baby, and show me your name is Lee-Lee Lickme for a reason.”
Giving Drae’s nah’nah one last kiss, tug, pull and pop, Lee-Lee reached for the nine-inch strap-on that lay on the end table.
“Oh you think you gon’ work me with a fake dick? Oh, come on, baby.” Drae pinched her clit, “’Cause I’m ready for it.”
Lee-Lee strapped the dildo on and as she lay back on top of Drae, Drae opened her legs wide, giving her full access to the rawness of her pussy. “Let’s see what the fuck else Lee-Lee Lickme came to do.” Lee-Lee started thrusting the cocoa-brown hard plastic dick in and out of Drae’s wetness and as Drae lifted slightly off the bed Lee-Lee slapped her on the ass. Drae’s leather corset felt like butter in the palm of her hands. While pumping in and out Lee-Lee took her right hand, picked up one of Drae’s breasts, removed it from the corset and sucked it as if Drae’s nipple held a sensual secret.
Drae closed her eyes and pretended that the strap-on was Hassan’s big black dick stirring the butterflies in her stomach. On the verge of calling Hassan’s name, she opened her eyes and looked into Lee-Lee’s face. Drae hated that she was enjoying the way she was being fucked. And although it felt good, there was something missing. Lee-Lee didn’t have a hard back for Drae to scratch into. There was no thick neck or broad shoulders to wrap her arms around, and when it was all said and done there would be no line of pearls laced up her stomach.
“This ain’t gon’ work, boo-boo,” Drae said. “I’m use’ to that niggah over there”—she pointed to Hassan, who was jerking his shaft—“and his big black dick ramming the shit outta me and fucking up this punani. And you teasing me”—she flipped over and now Lee-Lee lay on her back—“so let me show you how to handle that.”
Slowly Drae eased down on Lee-Lee’s detachable dick and rode it. Drae placed one hand on Lee-Lee’s right shoulder and the other hand on her left knee. “The next time you wanna fuck a pussy follow my lead.”
Lee-Lee started screaming, “Ahhh! Yes! Oh my God, yes!”
“Why you screaming?” Drae asked her. “You feel the heat of this hot, pink flesh? You feel that…or you simply wish you did?” Lee-Lee sat up and began sucking Drae’s D-cups, biting them, pushing them together and simultaneously sucking them. If nothing else, this bitch appeared to be able to suck a tittie. So Drae grabbed the back of her head and let Lee-Lee’s mouth fuck her nipples as if they were able to shoot cum.
Feeling her nut building, Drae started bucking the dildo faster. She began rubbing her clit and moaning. “Uhmmmmm…”
After showering her juice over the strap-on, Drae rolled off Lee-Lee and fell onto her back. She could tell just by looking at Lee-Lee’s face that she must’ve been in a trance and was experiencing the true essence of being pussy-whipped. And just to drive the point home, Drae thought about taking out the double-headed twelve-inch dildo that she and Hassan played with, so that she could show Lee-Lee how it truly felt to work a dick. But once she saw Hassan’s nut was spilling onto his hands, she changed her mind and figured her point had been made.
Lee-Lee stared at Drae for a moment longer before biting her bottom lip and asking her, “Do you give private sessions?”
Drae felt like she could’ve smacked her. Hadn’t she already proven to Lee-Lee that she wasn’t working with shit? “Girl, beat it.” Drae smirked. “That shit there was for my fuckin’ man; chicks are not my thing.” She climbed off the bed. “Give her the role and send her the fuck home,” she said to Hassan. “I need a real dick to fuck with.”
“Oh, you need a real dick?” Hassan smiled as he motioned for Drae to come near and Lee-Lee to leave the room.
Drae walked over to Hassan, who was working on another hard-on, and kissed him. They could hear Lee-Lee slam the door behind her.
“She was better than me, baby?” Hassan asked Drae as he ran his hands up her thighs.
“Never, baby. You the best.”
“You gon’ ever leave me, Drae?”
“Never. Ever. Nothing and nobody could ever make me think about leaving you.”
“I’m the best, baby?” he asked as she straddled his lap and eased onto his hard dick.
Gyrating her hips, she said, “You gon’ always be the best.”