Big Juicy Lips (21 page)

I
t was her maturity—her womanliness, that made his nature rise. Touching her curves, her cushiony bosom, her fleshy rump, protruding tummy, and her ample hips, soothed a yearning deep in his soul, fulfilled a desire he hadn’t been aware of.

“You can’t mention this to Misty,” Thomasina whispered.

“I won’t,” he assured her as he gently placed her on the bed.

He hovered over her, awkward, wondering which approach to use. Was she the type of woman who wanted it rough? Did she want him to plow into her and savagely beat up the pussy? Or should he treat her as gently as he treated Misty? Oddly, big brute that he was, tenderness was his natural inclination. Risking making a fool of himself, he put an arm around her and looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction. The smile in her eyes gave him permission. His mouth found hers. Softly, he kissed her lips, parted her lips. Invitingly, she widened her mouth, welcoming the sweet invasion, encouraging him to explore.

Brick communicated his desire with ardent tongue strokes. His excited hands roamed freely, fingers journeying over her shoulders and down to her flimsy nightgown. Impatiently, he ripped off satin straps, tore through lace fabric, desperate to touch her bare skin. Awestruck by her magnificent female landscape, he gawked, his open palms suspended in mid-air.

Waiting to be ravished, Thomasina held her breath as she lay atop the sheets. She was so hot that she could feel the heat rushing through her veins.

Determined to take his time, Brick feasted his eyes upon her ripened beauty, ignoring the ache in his swelling loins as he took in every inch of mature womanhood.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out to touch her. Her eyelids were closed, but she felt the warmth of his hand as it drew near. She shivered when the back of his hand softly touched her cheek. He outlined her yearning lips with the tip of his finger. Thomasina struggled with an overpowering urge to pucker her lips and slurp on his finger.

His hands trailed downward, gently squeezing her shoulders, fondling her breasts. Thomasina gasped and shuddered in sexual anticipation, but Brick took his time, enjoying the velvety smooth texture of her skin. Awestruck by her voluptuous body composition.

Thomasina and her daughter were complete opposites. Misty was small-boned, youthful, and heartbreakingly beautiful, yet she couldn’t light a candle to her mother. Thomasina, with her average looks and imperfections, had an abundance of sex appeal that far surpassed Misty’s superficial, outer beauty. Enjoying the pleasure of her flesh, he indulged his need to learn the curvatures and contours of Thomasina’s nakedness.

He slipped his fingers inside the smooth warmth of her arm pits, then taking her off guard, he raised one of her arms, pinned it against the soft pillow and inhaled the clean, fresh scent. She shivered as his breath tickled her skin. When he kissed that hidden erogenous zone, Thomasina undulated with unexpected pleasure. Brick’s hand traveled and roved over every curve of her sacred temple, tenderly stroking her skin.

Having never been able to look beyond her bad attitude, he hadn’t noticed or been able to appreciate her fine attributes. But now, after shedding the lace fabric from her body, he’d also peeled away her tough façade. She was a good-looking woman. Real sexy. Her sensuality was so raw, it pulsed like a heartbeat; making his rod throb with unbearable need.

He cupped her heavy breasts; the luscious orbs spilled into his open hands. He held them with reverence. His thumbs toggled her large nipples until they peaked and became ripe for sucking. Hungrily, he raised the life-giving flesh to his lips. “You got some big-ass titties, Ma,” he delivered the compliment with a groan, before taking a taut nipple inside his mouth.

Incited by the guttural sound of the compliment, driven to wildness by the feel of his tongue twirling around her beaded flesh, Thomasina cried out, her arms flailed, scratching, tearing at the skin on Brick’s massive back. While his lips clung to her bosom, his hand spiraled down, settled on her paunch, caressed and squeezed the soft pad of flesh. He finger-combed her wild bush of pubic hair, and then stretched his fingers, which seductively meandered toward her soft petals. Gently, he separated the fragrant flower. Breathing hard, he inserted his thick, middle finger inside Thomasina’s glimmering pool, swirling the dew until it spit and bubbled over.

He sucked the spicy poontang off his finger while his other hand busily kneaded the ample flesh of her ass. Her butt was so plump and meaty, Brick couldn’t hold back his desire to be completely uninhibited—unashamedly freaky. He withdrew his finger from inside her honey-soaked tunnel, and flipped Miss Thomasina over, her plump tummy flattened onto the cool sheets. Her buttocks shook like jelly, causing Brick to unconsciously lift his hand and pop that ass, making it jiggle like crazy.

“Ooo, baby, make it hurt,” Thomasina coerced.

But he couldn’t. His dick was straining for release, distracting him, preventing him from concentrating. Forcing his mind off his erection, his hand moved down to separate her ass cheeks. His strong hand pried her buttocks open; his eager tongue licked a blazing trail down the crease, zooming in on the tiny opening. Teasing tongue flicks became urgent, pressing, and probing until the tightened center responded like lips opening for a kiss. Hands freed, he allowed her cheeks to enfold his face. Ass licking and finger-fucking had Thomasina squirming and moaning. Her sounds of passion enticed Brick to give her even more pleasure.

“How you want it, Miss Thomasina?”

Confused, Thomasina murmured an incoherent reply. She’d never been asked that question before. And she most certainly had never been called “Miss Thomasina” by a sex partner.
Goddamn!
Her pussy felt like something had been ignited inside, setting it on fire. Enflamed, she could only babble, speaking nonsensical gibberish.

Brick couldn’t make out what she was saying, but he recognized pussy talk. He couldn’t decipher her exact yearning, but he knew her coochie needed emergency attention. He turned her over on her side and eased between her thick thighs. “Can I taste it?”

She replied with loud moaning. Her supple thighs enveloped his strong jaw line. Brick drew in her female fragrance. “Mmm. You smell good, Miss Thomasina,” he groaned in a voice muffled by bushy pubic mound and moist vagina flesh. Inhaling deeply, he felt intoxicated, love-drunk by her aromatic musky scent. He would have happily kept his face buried in her pussy, lapping, licking, and exploring until her pussy bubbled over in an orgasmic eruption, but Thomasina’s good-smelling pussy weakened him. Made him want to surrender, lie prone and let her have her way with his face. He couldn’t find the words to express his desire for her to take control. How could he tell her he wanted her to plant her ass on his face—smother him with her womanhood; strangle him with an overflow of sexual juices? How could he express his sudden yearning for sweet suffocation?

At this point, Brick’s secret desire would have to remain an unrealized sexual fantasy. Thomasina was too far gone to take control. “Baby, eat it,” she purred. “Put your lips on it and suck it.” Like her daughter, Thomasina obviously enjoyed getting oral sexed. Resisting the strong desire to have his face sat upon and smothered with hairy pussy, Brick gathered the strength to go to work and indulge her. Timidly, he took small licks of the creamy goodness between her thighs. Her nectar was thick and rich, enticing him to want more of the tasty custard. He curled his tongue, using it like a ladle as he scooped up the sugary cream. Hungry for more of her creamy lust, he stretched out his tongue, stroking with the full width and length, feeding on her sex. Moments later, he bunched up his lips and latched on to her love button.

Thomasina’s body bucked, her breathing emerged in deep, shuddering gasps.

“Stop!” She tried to disengage from Brick’s pleasure-giving lips. “I don’t want to cum. Not yet!” Thomasina extricated herself. “I want to return the pleasure.” She slithered downward.

But Brick knew his limitations. He couldn’t take another second of stimulation. Male clients provided him with enough head to last a lifetime. Right now, he needed pussy. Hot, well-seasoned, mature pussy. Giving a low moan, he demonstrated his desire, gripped Thomasina’s shoulders and repositioned her on the bed. Holding his pulsing shaft, he directed it toward her warm haven.

She’d wanted to give Brick oral pleasure, wanted to lick the moisture drops from his swollen dick and then suck him dry. Realistically, she doubted that she’d be able to accommodate the full length of his giant phallus inside her mouth, but she was willing to try.

But Brick‘s craving could not be sated by oral stimulation. With a gentle tug, he urged her upward. Thomasina felt a stab of regret. Her disappointment promptly changed to gratitude the instant she felt his globular head sliding past her petal-soft folds. She clenched her fist in a spasm of excitement as Brick entered her slick, wet center, easing his oversized hot flesh inside her tight canal, slowly stretching her slippery walls.

She made a soft cry of pain.

“Am I hurting you?” Brick asked, alarmed.

“It’s good pain,” she uttered.

Brick grunted, slid in a little deeper. He could feel his stomach flutter as he struggled to hold back his wad. With an animalistic disregard for her incapacity to take in the full length of his dick, he pushed it in to the hilt, desperately seeking shelter and female heat. Deeply embedded, he unwittingly located her spot. Thomasina’s vocal pitch escalated. She became wild, clawing, crying out, thrashing.

Brick pumped hard, faster, deeper. “Ooo, Miss Thomasina, you got some good, wet pussy. I’m sorry, Ma; I can’t hold it. I’m ’bout to bust.”

Ma!
Thomasina blushed; she didn’t know which sounded more endearing and sexually stirring—“Ma” or “Miss Thomasina”?
Both!
She voiced her approval with soft gasps and sought to match his pace, grinding her full hips in circles as they strove to reach an orgasm.

“You gon’ cum with me?”

She mumbled something. Unable to speak coherent words or phrases, she relied upon primitive sex sounds, murmured rambling, rhythmic chanting, low and guttural moaning, frantic pelvic gyrations. Her breathing was harsh and labored, her face scrunched up as if in excruciating pain as she struggled to reach a climax.

“You wanna take a break? Do you need some rest, Miss Thomasina?” Brick’s face was etched with concern and tenderness.

What a considerate young man.
She’d been so wrong about Brick. Misty was a fool to let him get away. “No, don’t stop.” Brick’s sweet concern aroused her; made her pussy become even more revved up. It pulsed in appreciation and clenched in anticipation of a powerful eruption.

Brick felt her coochie’s reaction—he felt the temperature change as her pussy interior went from warm to scorching hot. His dick could no longer conduct itself or control the desire for savage behavior. “You ready for me?” He spoke in a husky, urgent tone.

Thomasina moaned a response, and then allowed her body to scream the word,
Yes!
She lifted up, wrapped her legs around his waist and used vaginal muscles to pull in dick. His dick went in so deeply, his balls felt like they had been dragged inside and were now lodged up in the pussy, giving Thomasina intense pleasure, making her thrash, emit high-pitched wails, and cuss like a drunken sailor. Female ejaculation squirted out as forcefully as a man’s. “Umph! Your pussy’s gushing,” he groaned, impressed by the force and volume of her lust. He pulled her closer, groaned in blissful agony and then flooded her satiny confines with his seed.

Wrapped in each other’s arms, Thomasina and Brick kissed like lovers. They searched each other’s eyes for a reasonable explanation of what had just transpired between them. What had started out on her part as a sneaky, shady, shamefully scandalous sex act—had morphed into something else. Thomasina was keenly aware that she and Brick had experienced more than just a moment of lustful satisfaction; they had stumbled upon something meaningful—something that could blossom and flourish. Something long term? Should she allow herself even a glimmer of hope?

Brick wondered if it was all in his mind. He bear-hugged her, kissed her again, waiting for her to pull away. She didn’t. She kissed him back and then asked, “What’s your real name, Brick?”

“Baron. Baron Kennedy.”

Thomasina caressed his face; allowed her finger to wander toward his scar. “That’s a nice name. Dignified.” She nodded. “I’m going to call you Baron from now on. Is that all right with you?”

Nodding, Brick blushed. He liked hearing her say his name. He’d been called Brick for so long, he’d never developed a personality for a man named Baron Kennedy.

“Good night, Baron.” She snuggled inside his arms, eyelids fluttering, sweet sleep fast approaching.

“Good night, Miss Thomasina.” He kissed her neck, squeezed her and then blissfully closed his eyes.

H
iding his contempt, Dane sucked his teeth softly. Misty was a pain in the ass. Felice’s spongy pussy had damn near depleted him, but he’d still managed to serve the selfish little nympho some leftover sperm that was floating at the bottom of his nut sac. But she still wasn’t satisfied. Misty was a beast. Insatiable. She kept touching him, rubbing his thighs, hinting for more dick. When she brazenly climbed on top of him, rubbing her pussy against his groin, he’d had more than enough. He felt like snatching her up and throwing her narrow ass against the wall. He yearned to hear the sound of her breaking bones. He was pretty sure he hated Misty. Hated her for her arrogance; her conceit. So sure of herself, she didn’t even realize she was getting played.

If he weren’t anxious to get out of the house, he’d suck her pussy just to keep her satisfied and thrown off guard, but he didn’t have time for a whole lot of unnecessary cunt sucking. There was a pressing matter that needed attending to. Once Misty went to sleep, he planned to sneak the car keys again. He didn’t plan on paying Felice another visit. He had a burning question and there was only one person in the world who could provide the answer.

“I’m thirsty,” he said, standing up. “You want something to drink?” he asked indulgently.

“Yeah, I want to swallow your kids.” She smiled and licked her lips. He returned the smile, but secretly wanted to punch out her lights. Bash her head in, so she’d shut the fuck up and go to sleep. “Whatchu want—juice or soda?”

“I want you,” she whined.

He let out a harsh breath.

“All right,” she said, sensing his impatience. “Bring me some Pepsi. But, baby,” she whined in a nasally tone, “I’m really thirsty for you.” Pouting, she poked out her small lips. Her unsuccessful lip protrusion was a reminder of how much he hated kissing her. He refused to even allow himself to mentally dwell on the contempt he felt when slipping his dick inside her paper-thin slit. S
kinny pussy-lipped skank!

“Aiight. I gotchu.” He gave her an insincere wink. He puckered his sexy lips beautifully and blew her a false-hearted kiss. “Be right back.” With eyes darkened, he plodded to the kitchen. He poured Pepsi into a tall glass for himself and then set to crushing up a couple of pills—a couple muscle relaxants and an over-the-counter sleeping aid—a cocktail that would put her ass to rest. He hoped the cocktail wasn’t lethal, but the bitch damn sure needed some time out. The pretty bitch couldn’t fuck or suck worth shit. Hell if he was going to waste any more of his seed on her.

Stepping lively, he merrily rejoined her in the bedroom.

“Here you go, Lil’ Bit. We only have a half a bottle left, so if you’re just gonna fuck around with it, give it to me. I’ll drink the shit.”

Desiring to please, Misty took several long sips.

Dane’s eyes lit with joy when she guzzled the drink, emptying the glass.

Waiting for her to show signs of wooziness, he ran his fingers through her hair, massaged her scalp, helping her to relax.

“Baby, rub my coochie.” She thrust upward.

Impatient, he gave her tiny mound a quick, harsh rub.

“Dang, why you gotta be so rough? Put your finger in it, baby. Play with it.” Her voice was slightly slurred as she separated her thighs, offering her deepest regions. Dane was disgusted. Begrudgingly, he lodged his finger inside her tight tunnel and finger-fucked her harshly. Jabbing in and out with increasing anger, until her head lolled and drool pooled at the corner of her mouth.

“What’s wrong, Lil’ Bit?” He feigned concern as he peeked at her face.

“Nothing,” she crooned. “I’m just resting my eyes.”

“Aiight, you do that. Keep your eyes closed while Daddy works on that little coochie. Y’ah mean?”

“Uh-huh,” she whimpered as he sneakily withdrew his finger.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned in weak protest, her eyes fluttering as she fought to keep them open, struggled against the pull of sleep.

“I gotchu, Boo. That’s enough finger-fucking. Me and you ’bout to get into it. You want some dick, don’tchu?”

“Uh-huh,” she moaned, dragging out the last syllable. “That’s what I really need,” she slurred sleepily.

“Aiight then. Close your eyes and get ready. We ’bout to rumple up the sheets and shit in a minute.”

Misty murmured softly, smiled dreamily as Dane grabbed her laptop and tiptoed out of the bedroom.
Sleep tight, sucka!

He would have loved to hop in Misty’s whip and steer it straight to Felice’s crib. That slut presented a challenge. He had to get back with her and prove that he could conquer that pussy.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time to tackle the poontang at the moment. He was on a fact-finding mission, and after he got the information he needed, he had other business to attend to—personal and money wise.

He pulled out his cell. “Yo, Felice! I’m gon’ slide through later on tonight—around two or three. Listen for the door and keep that thing hot for me.” He frowned at his cell. “Yeah, I got something for you. Don’t worry about it—it’s a surprise.” Dane snapped the phone close.

Minutes later, he pulled the X5 into the back of Ziggy’s Barbecue Joint. His father, Marshall Newman, worked for Ziggy. He swept and mopped the inside of the place, carried large bags of trash and garbage to the commercial-sized waste bin. In between cleaning and garbage-toting treks, his father could always be found throwing down hard liquor in the back of the joint.

As expected, there he was, guzzling whiskey straight from a bottle concealed inside a brown paper bag. His mother claimed his father’s good looks had blinded her to his bad characteristics.
What good looks?
Dane wondered as he approached his bleary-eyed, haggard-looking father.

“What’s good, Pops?” he asked, his mouth giving the impression of a warm-hearted smile. Inwardly, he sneered at his bum-ass father. His old man had on a T-shirt, with the name
Ziggy’s
practically obliterated by dirt, grime, and caked-on barbecue sauce.

“Look who the cat dragged in,” his old man said sarcastically. “I know that ain’t none of yours.” His father nodded toward Misty’s truck.

“Naw, I borrowed it.”

Looking relieved that his son hadn’t struck it rich, his father nodded, then took another swig. “Whatchu want?” The drunken man eyed his son suspiciously. “You can tell your greedy mother that you’re too old to be still coming around hassling me about back-owed child support.”

“Mom ain’t thinking about you. She’s remarried.” Dane gave his father a fierce scowl for slandering his mother’s name.

“Oh, yeah?” His father chuckled. “What fool did she hoodwink this time?

“Hoodwink? She still got her looks. My mother’s smart and hard-working. But you already know that. Right, Pops? You wouldn’t have left a stupid, defenseless woman to raise your only child, would you?” he said sarcastically. He clenched his teeth to keep from throwing some hard body shots at Pops, but if he let go of years’ worth of pent-up anger, he’d probably kill his worthless father.

“Simmer down. I was just having fun.” Marshall chuckled. His laughter, however, was without mirth. It was a spiteful, disrespectful, croaking sound.

“I gotta question for you.” Dane narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“How many other brothers and sisters do I have?”

Marshall reared back, face twisted in disgust. “How the hell would I know?”

“Did you ever knock anyone up while you were married to Mom?”

“What the hell is this about?”

Dane slid the photo out of his pocket. Handed his father the picture of Shane and his brother, Tariq. His father squinted at the picture. Dane took a lighter from his pocket, flicked it, illuminating the photograph. “Anyone look familiar?”

His father continued squinting. His face twisted into a frown. “I’ll be damn. That tall, skinny fella…” He tapped Shane’s image. “He looks just like I used to. Looks like I spit that one out, but damn if his mother pulled my coat. I never saw this boy before.”

“Yeah, he looks like me, Pops. Like he’s my twin,” Dane interjected. “You wanna tell me about it. Do I have a twin?

“I don’t know this boy,” Marshall insisted. “Do you think your mother would give away her own flesh and blood? Boy, stop talking crazy. You ain’t got no twin.”

Dane sighed in relief, leaned close to his foul-smelling father and pointed out Tariq. “That’s his twin right there.”

“Hmm.” Marshall gave the picture back to Dane and then stared off into space. “Lemme tell you something, son,” he said, when he came back down to earth. “Some of the best pussy in the world can be found locked inside a mental ward.”

“Here you go…talking about that nut house you used to work in…” Dane blew out a burst of aggravated air. “I know all about it. That’s all you ever talked about when I was growing up. Bragging about it, like working in a mental hospital was something to be proud of. You wasn’t no doctor, Pop! You wasn’t nothing but hired help,” Dane blurted, angry and frustrated.

“You right, I didn’t have no fancy job title. But a young thug like you don’t know the reward of earning a paycheck—putting in a honest day’s work.”

Dane’s chest heaved in exasperation. “Man, what’s that old job of yours got to do with the question I asked you? Damn!”

“I was gon’ get to it, but if I can’t tell it the way I want to, then forget about it. Go ’head on about your business.”

Dane sighed. “Aiight, Pops. Run it down. Tell me all about the crazy house you worked in.”

His father shifted his body, stretching out his legs comfortably as he sat on a metal folding chair. “Schizophrenic pussy is the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

Dane grimaced.

“I ain’t lying. Schizo pussy…” He paused. “That’s what we used to call it,” he reflected fondly. “It don’t have no phony airs about itself, son. Nah, that pussy is raw and unrefined. Wild pussy! Un-inhibited. It grabs a hold of a dick and pulls it in—all the way down to the balls. Fucking schizo pussy is like trying to stay in the saddle when you sitting on top of a bunking bronco. I done had my share of women, but ain’t no pussy can compare to the dick ride given by the mentally unsound.” His eyes closed dreamily. “You listening to me, boy,” he barked, snapping himself out of his perverted reverie.

“I’m not tryna hear this shit. I just wanna know if you—”

His father made a snorting sound. “I know whatchu thinking. You think your old man is talking shit. Yeah, I’m feeling a little tipsy. I ain’t gon’ lie about it; your old man ain’t feeling no pain. But this ain’t drunk talk. I know exactly what I’m saying. That job I had at the mental hospital provided me with unlimited crazy pussy.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You ain’t gotta believe it. But I swear by God, I had all the sex I wanted. More than I could handle most of the time. See, I had to help restrain patients. Help hold ’em down. Back in the day—way before my time, the doctors used to give the crazy people something called a lobotomy.”

“What?” Dane scowled in revulsion.

“A lobotomy. It’s an operation on the brain. I heard about it, but I ain’t never witnessed it, like some of the older fellas I worked with claimed. They told me there was a traveling psychiatrist who would give—”

“Man, come on. Get to the point. Am I related to the dude in the picture?”

Marshall continued as if Dane hadn’t said a word. “So, anyway, they said the traveling psychiatrist would come in and do ten to twenty procedures in one day. Had patients lined up, performed surgery on ’em, one right after the other. Some say the man was sadistic; others claim he was a visionary—ahead of his time. Fact is, he figured out a way to do cost-effective, quickie brain surgery.”