Slippery When Wet: A Novel (Zane Presents) (23 page)

Yo, real shit. The first time I saw her, I wanted to eat her pussy and fuck her. Wanted to get her in the backseat of my black 2013 Durango with the tinted out windows, rip off her panties and fuck her with my tongue and fingers until her pussy juice splashed out all over me, then dig her guts out from the back with my long, black dick. I wanted to fuck her fine ass mercilessly.

And if I couldn’t have her in the backseat of my whip, I wanted to be in back of her, pushing her up against a wall, my body ramming into her in time to the music, my mouth at her ear, my dick digging in and out, slamming into her, pounding her into the wall, fucking her on the edge of a thick, sweet nut.

Fuck yeah! I wanted to creep up behind her, kiss her neck and slink my finger underneath her black pencil-skirt, into her panties and into her pussy hole. I wanted to finger her until she cried out in pleasure, begging for me to fuck her with my rock-hard dick.

And tonight is no exception.

I wanna fuck her!

I wanna sink my fat dick into her wetness until I melt inside of her, until I bust this nut up in her. Real shit.

Kendrick Lamar’s “Poetic Justice” is blaring throughout the club. I’m surrounded by her perfume. The peach flowery scent makes my dick hard as she spins around on the dance floor. I grab at my dick over my True Religions, sipping my Corona as she
gyrates to the beat. Her dress is so fucking short that I can see the edges of her ass cheeks jiggle. Her ass-shaking, sexy moves are heating my loins, causing my dick to get harder and harder with each shake, bounce, dip, and spin she does.

Sexy-ass bitch!

Her eyes shut, then flutter open as she gets lost in the music. I know she sees, feels, me watching her. Shit,
every
one’s watching her!

And she’s killin’ it!

Tonight she’s wearing a skimpy red dress that’s mad short, and red platform heels. She’s smoking hot, like fire. Shit. She’s the hottest bitch in the club. And she knows. It. Her cocoa brown skin matches her sensuous brown eyes, which are framed by thick, long lashes. Her full, voluptuous lips are painted red and coated with lip gloss to give them that shiny, wet, ready-to-suck-a-niggah’s-dick look.

I lick my lips as her titties bounce up and down and she throws that pussy at me. Shit, a’ight. Maybe she ain’t really throwing it at me,
yet
. But she’s throwing that shit. And I’m tryna catch it…all of it. Before the rest of these hungry-ass muhfuckas try to get up in it.

My niggahs always tell me chicks like her—straight and strictly dickly—ain’t checking for muhfuckas like me. That I need to stay in my lane and stop chasing dreams. They swear that all I’ma ever get from tryna fuck with a straight bitch is heartache. But I ain’t tryna hear that shit.

I know what I want.

And I know what I like.

My women straight.

Still, my niggahs stay tryna clown a muhfucka for prowling the
straight
clubs for my next victim, my next conquest. My next good
fuck of the night. Shit, I love sex. And I love fucking straight chicks. It’s like a hunting game to me. To see how far I can go without being clocked, which is usually hard to do since I look like a straight-up niggah.

Real rap, yo. I’m that pretty boy type with mad swag.

Six-pack on deck. Tight, toned body. Spinning waves. Deep dimples. Smooth baby face.

I’m a chick magnet.

And I stay getting pussy, yo. Stay baggin’ them sexy-ass dimes. A’ight, a’ight, real spit. I haven’t bagged a bitch in a minute ’cause I ain’t out shopping like that. But when I was baggin’ ’em they’ve always been badder than a muhfucka. All tens, hands down! But that was then. And this is now. And right not, the only thing on the menu is me tryna fuck.

Still, my peeps think I need to fall back from chasing these straight broads. They think I’m crazy for not wanting to link up with a broad on my own level for some relationship-type shit, instead of wasting my time tryna bag a chick who’s only gonna put the brakes on shit once she finds out who—or should I say, what—I really am. But, for real for real, gay chicks ain’t what I’m checkin’ for. And I ain’t looking to be booed up.

And the truth of the matter is, I ain’t looking for love.

I’m looking for one-night stands.

I’m looking for good pussy.

Unsuspecting pussy.

And lots of it. Something I ain’t never had a problem getting. Like I said, my dick
and
this long tongue stay wet. And I got the text messages, voice messages, and panties to prove it. Yeah, maybe it’s a psychological thing, a mind thing. Shit, a’ight. It is mental for me. But fucking straight pussy is the best kinda pussy there is.

And, hands down, I know this sexy mama right here working
the dance floor got that goodie-goodie. I can tell by the way she seductively moves those round hips, the way she’s thrusting her pelvis into the music, that she knows how to ride a dick. And so far I ain’t been wrong at spotting that good pussy.

Yo, I’m feeling good as fuck. The four shots and two beers I’ve already tossed back got me right. Fuck what ya heard. I’m ready to get it in.

The DJ slips on Rihanna’s “Pour It Up.” I bounce my head as I watch baby girl slowly spin around, raising her hands up over her head, then dropping down low. She bounces and rocks her hips. My dick throbs between my legs. This sexy-dime got my mouth watering, yo. I toss back the rest of my beer, then set the empty bottle up on the ledge. It’s time to make my move.

I inch my way over to her and sidle up on her. Her back is turned so she doesn’t see me as I place my hands on her hips and press up on her ass. I rock to the beat in sync to her movements. She cranes her neck to see who’s up on her, then smiles. That grin on her face and the way she tosses her
phat
-ass up in my crotch tells me all I need. She’s with it. Well, me dancing with her, that is. Fucking her might take a little more work. Or maybe not…

She spins around. “You sure you ready for me?” she says over the music, eyeing me up and down, then spinning back around, grinding and bouncing that thing-thing up on my dick.

For the last three Saturday nights, I’ve hopped in my whip and driven into the city to hit up this spot, Club Sensations—a straight club that plays hip-hop on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, and house and club music on Sunday nights. And each time I’ve come through, she’s been here. On the dance floor, seducing the muhfuckas who’ve been eye-fucking her. Instead of tryna press up on her, I’ve stayed in the cut, eyeing her, watching
how she moves. Solo, it seems. Mad niggahs stay tryna press up on her, but from what I’ve peeped, so far, she doesn’t seem to give ’em too much airplay. Yeah, she dances with ’em. And I’ve peeped her at the bar, grinning and smiling while she runs their pockets on drinks. But then she keeps it movin’. And even after the club, when the lights flick open and it’s finally “Last Call for Alcohol,” she bounces out the door, hops in her black-on-black Range Rover with the Jersey tags and tinted windows and peels off. Yo, I ain’t gonna front, I had to really check myself from tailin’ her fine ass home. Not that I’m some psycho-type muhfucka who stalks a bitch, but, uh…I was tempted.

But, tonight, temptation has taken over me, and now a muhfucka’s ready to take a bite into that forbidden fruit, yo.

“Yo, I stay ready, ma,” I yell over the music.

She spins back around, facing me, slipping a leg between mine. “We’ll see.” She quickly skips back a few steps, then hops forward when the DJ starts playing a Rick Ross joint. The dance floor is straight up packed with chicks and muhfuckas getting it in, chanting and throwing their hands up. They’re all caught up in their own worlds getting their two-step and sweat on. But I ain’t really caught up watching them when I got this shorty right here practically letting me do whatever I want to her on the dance floor. Am I surprised? Yeah, sort of. But I ain’t really putting too much thought into it ’cause I know I’ma smooth muhfucka.

Right now I got her pulled into me; one arm around the front of her while my other hand is down on her thigh. Her skin is hot and mad soft, yo.

She leans back into me as more heads pack up on the dance floor. Little by little she and I keep getting pushed further and further back into the crowd until we are practically pinned up in our own little corner along a wall of mirrors.

It’s mad dark over here. And that’s my cue to see just how far this hot tamale is willing to let me go as we seductively sway back and forth to Rihanna’s joint, “Diamonds in the Sky.” She’s bent over, ass bouncing into me as I grind my hips into her. I slide a hand up her dress, and like I thought
and
hoped—she ain’t wearing drawers, not even a thong.

Yeah, she’s out here tryna get fucked tonight
.

I slink my hand further up her dress until I’m touching her pussy lips. She leans forward, grabbing her ankles, giving me easier access. I stroke her wet lips, then push a finger into her. She lets me slide it all the way into her, moving her hips in a slow, seductive grind, then speeding up as I slip another finger in. Her ass clapping around my hand as her cunt pulls in and grips my fingers until I can feel the music start to vibrate through her wetness. Her pussy clamps onto my knuckles. “Blow the Whistle” starts to play and she nuts on my hand. And I feel my own nut building up inside of me.

She spins around to face me, locking her gaze onto mine. She sees what I see. Lust. Hungry need. We both wanna fuck. She grins as I taste her sticky-sweetness, licking my fingers on the sly as we keep our pace to the music. I grin back at her. “You like that?” she asks, slipping a thigh in between mine and grinding on my leg. Her hands go up my muscular arm to my biceps, then back down to my forearms.

I lean into her ear. “What you think?”

“I think you ain’t ready for it.”

“Yeah, a’ight. Whatever you say.”

“It’s what I know, baby.” She spins outta my arms, then backs her ass back up into my crotch. A Lil’ Kim joint starts playing and this sexy thing-thing starts getting all nasty with it. And all this humping and grinding is doing is making me hornier by the minute. So fucking horny that I’m ready to bust in my drawers.

I pull her into me real close, then lean into her ear. She slips a hand in back of her and starts tryna grab at my dick. I almost nut on the spot as the base of my dick presses my clit.

“Ma, real shit. You mad sexy. I wanna fuck you, yo.”

“Then fuck me,” she demands. Her bluntness shocks me at first, but it doesn’t take me long to quickly recover. It’s game on, yo. Right here in the dark corner of the club I’ma ’bout to bust her pussy open. I remove my hand from her waist, glancing around the club to see who’s peepin’ us. No one, so it’s all gravy. We ’bout to get our fuck on. I quickly unzip my jeans, then reach inside the opening of my boxers and fish my thick, eight-inch dark brown dick out—it’s smaller than the one I usually pack. But it’s still thick enough to bust her guts out. It’s smooth, not too veiny, and matches the color of my skin almost perfectly.

She tries to reach for it in back of her. She wants to stroke it, but I shove her hand away, dipping at the knees. I brush my thumb over her slit, then dip the tip of it in. She’s so wet. I grip my shit and circle her sticky lips and opening with the head. She moans over the music.

And I don’t give a fuck who hears her. This pussy is ’bout to be mine for the night. I keep teasing her slit, circling the hole of her pussy with my dick. I bring my thumb up to her mouth, circling and teasing it the same way I’m doing her cunt. She sucks it into her mouth as if she’s sucking my dick. Finally, I give in, giving her this dick. I push it into the back of her ready pussy, slowly. Then grab her hips and pull her toward me, forcing my whole dick in. I hear her gasp as Soulja Boy’s “Tear It Up” starts playing. I grind into her pussy.

“Mmmmph…fuck me!”

“This what you want?” I growl into her ear over the music. “This hard dick?”

“Yes! Fuck me!”

I grab her by the waist and ram my dick in her. She’s handling it like a pro, giving it as good as she’s getting it, humping and pumping her hips. I repeatedly bang into her pussy—tip-to-base, tearing it up, nearly lifting her off the floor with each thrust. She bucks her ass, pushes me back up against the mirrors and rodeo rides my dick. To the drunken club-goers we simply look like two drunken heads freakin’ each other on the dance floor, not fucking our brains out.

Still, I peep a few heads stealing glances over at us, muhfuckas tapping their boys and nodding over toward us. But I ain’t sweating that shit. The only thing I’m tryna do is get this nut. She works my dick as I work her pussy. I can feel sweat on my neck and down the center of my muscled back. Her cunt grips my dick. I can feel her coming over the music. The bass, the rhythm, the lyrics, moving through her as her body shudders. Fast and hard, I cum with her, then hold onto her waist for a few extra minutes, grinding into her gooey center. She keeps dancing on my dick.

We stay in this position for another full song, rocking back and forth, trying to catch our breaths before I finally pull out and stuff my wet, sticky dick back in my boxers, then zip my jeans up. On some real shit, if this was poppin’ off under different conditions—with her knowing who and what I really am—I’d have her sucking my dick clean. But since it ain’t that kinda party, I gotta stick ‘n’ move. She pulls down her dress, then turns toward me. She has a fresh-fuck glow on her sweaty face.

She presses her moist lips up to my ear. “That was real good.”

“No doubt. You got some good pussy, ma.”

She grins. “And you got some real good dick. I’d like to get another round. You got a name?”

“It’s Reggie.”

“I’m Nicole.”

“That’s wassup.” I grab a chunk of her ass. “Yo, check it. I’ma ’bout to dip. But let me get them digits before I bounce.” She hits me with some dumb shit ’bout not giving her number out, but she’ll take mine. Yeah, whatever. The bitch let a random muhfucka fuck her on the dance floor, but she doesn’t give out her digits. Go figure. It ain’t no biggie, though. I already got what I wanted. My dick wet. And there ain’t gonna be no second rounds. There never is. “You know what, yo. Don’t sweat it.”