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Once I finished my shower, I stepped back into the room with a plush white towel wrapped around my body and another wrapped around my head. I moisturized my body, then dried my hair and braided it nice ’n tight in two French braids, then pinned the ends under and placed my auburn Beverly Johnson mid-length wig with spiral curls on my head. I stood in the mirror, adjusted the wig, then tossed the curls with my fingas. I applied a coat of bing-cherry lipstick to my luscious lips and some mascara to enhance my already thick lashes and sexy bedroom eyes, then dabbed Chanel No. 5 behind both ears, on my wrists, and along my cleavage.
Once I was satisfied with my look, I retrieved my gun, screwed on my silencer, then tossed it into my black lambskin shoulder bag. Next, I slipped into my black spandex catsuit, then stood in the hotel mirror, peepin’ myself from all angles, admirin’ the way my wears wrapped around my body and hugged my fat ass, titties, and pussy lips. I puckered my lips real sexy-like, smiled at myself and winked, then headed out the door to the casino.
The casino was so fuckin’ packed that it took me almost forty minutes to finally spot my mark. He was sittin’ at a twenty-five-dollar blackjack table with two other heads, a chick and another nigga who favored a shorter, stocky version of Morris Chestnut. As luck would have it, the seat next to my target was open. I took my seat, then opened up my purse and put five hundred dollars down onto the table. We made eye contact. I smiled and he smiled back at me.
I placed my bet, and of course, lost the first three rounds. But shit picked up after that and I started slayin’ shit. I purposely touched my mark a few times in excitement and made small talk with him in between hands. After ’bout an hour or so, I was so ready to get my drink on, but knew I had to stay focused so I kept it cute and drank watered-down cranberry juice. Ugh! I spent another two hours at this table, thankfully winnin’. A few times I slyly licked my lips at him. He grinned, but the nigga knew what time it was. The more drinks he ordered from the cute little barmaid, the more receptive he became. But a bitch was really gettin’ bored with this table shit. I was a slot machine ho and wanted to shift gears for a minute, but ’cause I needed to play this nigga close, I kept my ass glued to my seat, constantly glancin’ over at my mark, and smilin’. Besides, I was ready to fuck. So I was more than happy when the nigga started collectin’ his chips. That was my cue to start packin’ up my shit as well.
“Oh, you had enough, too, huh?” he asked, strainin’ to keep his eyes from wanderin’ all over my body. I could tell the muhfucka was feelin’ good from all those shots of scotch he drank, which was fine with me.
“Yeah, I’m done,” I said, eyein’ him seductively. “That was cute, but I’m ready to get into somethin’ else now.” I stared at him, tiltin’ my head. I hoped the nigga got the hint, or at least took the bait. When he did, I smiled inside. That’s right, nigga, you hear this pussy callin’ you, don’t you?
“Oh, yeah, what you have in mind?”
“Well,” I said, not wantin’ to sound too eager ’n shit. “You feel like goin’ somewhere for a few drinks…” I paused, gaugin’ his body language. The nigga was practically droolin’. “…then see where the night takes us?”
“Hopefully, someplace we both wanna be,” he said, smilin’.
“Well, let’s start with drinks. Are you here with anyone?”
“I’m out here with a few of my boys. And you?”
“I’m solo, baby. But hopefully, that will change,” I said as we slowly walked through the crowd. I was glad I had caught him by himself, but now I needed to make sure the nigga wasn’t sharin’ a room with one of his boys. That woulda posed a major problem ’cause there was no way I could body the nigga in my room. I was relieved when the nigga said he was restin’ solo.
“Well, tonight’s ya lucky night,” he said, lickin’ his top lip, then slowly pullin’ in his bottom lip. “And I have just the place in mind where we can go get those drinks, before we move on to bigger and wetter things.”
“Well, lead the way,” I replied, grinnin’. “I love big, and I’m always wet.”
“Then we should get along just fine.”
I followed behind him, takin’ in his broad shoulders, his nice ass. I imagined my nails clawin’ up his back, then sinkin’ into his ass cheeks as he thrust his dick into me. I had to shake the thoughts of him fuckin’ me outta my head before I jumped up on his back and fucked him on the spot. He slowed his pace and we walked side by side, makin’ our way over to the Indigo Lounge. It was cute, and very laid-back. We found a seat at an empty table where we ordered drinks and got better acquainted. After ’bout the third round of drinks, he started really feelin’ himself, talkin’ like he was ready to put some work in.
“Damn, baby,” he said, lickin’ his thick lips again. “You fine as fuck. I didn’t even get ya name, beautiful.”
“It’s Maleka,” I lied.
“Oh, that’s wassup. Mark,” he stated, fannin’ his long legs open and closed. Usually when a nigga started that shit ’round me it meant he was tryna keep his dick in check.
I smiled. “Am I makin’ you nervous or somethin’?” I asked, pullin’ in my bottom lip.
“Nah, baby,” he said, finishin’ his drink, then settin’ the glass down on the table. “I’m just ready to go somewhere a little more private, if you know what I’m sayin’.”
Yeah, I already knew what time it was, but I decided to fuck with him anyway. “And then what?” I asked, slowly sippin’ on my drink, then eyein’ him over the rim of my glass.
“And then whatever happens happens.”
“Well, if I’m goin’ somewhere private with you, you need to know I’m tryna wet ya dick, then get that nut. Bottom line, I’m tryna fuck. Can you handle that?”
“Oh, no doubt,” he said, givin’ me a wide-ass smile like he hit the lottery. I could tell I had the nigga’s dick swoll by the way he was fannin’ his legs a mile a minute. And when he finally stood up, the lump in the front of his pants told me all I needed to know. “Let’s make it happen.”
I smiled, gettin’ up, allowin’ him to lead the way.
By one a.m., I was up in my mark’s standard hotel room, spread out on the bed, on my stomach, bobbin’ my neck, gulpin’ down the nigga’s dick like it was a smoked beef sausage.
“Slap my ass while I’m suckin’ ya dick,” I told him. He did, and I moaned. “Slap it again. Make that shit jiggle, nigga.” He did, and I moaned again. I circled the openin’ of his short, thick dick with the tip of my tongue, lappin’ at the tiny droplets of precum that leaked from its fat mushroom head. Mmmm, it was sweet tastin’. Okay, on some real shit, even though the nigga dished up a short order of dick, he made up for it in thickness, and in balls. His muthafuckin’ balls were the size of j
uicy, ripe plums. And his dick was almost as thick as my damn arm. Humph. My pussy lips started quiverin’ as I stroked his dick with one hand and slowly sucked on his balls, rollin’ them around with my tongue.
He gasped, then moaned. “Oh, shit, baby. Damn, you workin’ the hell outta my balls.” He thrust his hips and let out another moan as I took both of his balls deep into my warm, wet mouth. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. “I want you to suck this dick, baby. Stop teasin’ me, and put this fat dick down in ya throat.”
