Dirty Heat (34 page)

I frown, glancin' over at Peter Pecker. He's still on the bed, on his knees. His face is wet, his lips glazed, from his wife's juices. He licks his lips in anticipation when I hand his wife the sticky condom.

I stand here, trippin' the fuck out as she walks over ‘n' shoves the condom into his mouth. And the muhfucka chews it like she's just rolled a stick of cum-flavored gum into his mouth.

Goddamn. These muhfuckas are nasty…

“Here, babe,” I say, handin' Nivia three hunnid dollars. “It ain't much, but it's a lil' pocket change for you.”

I don't tell her about the other five hunnid I got tucked away 'cause I ain't tryna explain no more than I have'ta.

She frowns. Eyes the paper in my hand suspiciously, before reluctantly takin' it. “Where'd you get this?”

I swallow. “ 'Member that cat I told you I helped move?”

She raises a brow. “Uh, yeah…”

On some real shit, I ain't wit' lyin' to my girl. But I know the shit I'm doin' to make a few dollars ain't somethin' she's gonna be down wit' ‘n' I ain't beat for a buncha beefin' about shit she told me to get out ‘n' do in the first place.

“Hell, go out and sling dick if that's gonna keep these bills paid…”

Maybe she ain't really mean that shit. Still, she said it. And, guess what? The shit's puttin' a few extra dollars in my pocket ‘n' allows me to pay some'a these bills.

What I'm doin' isn't wrong. But it ain't really right, either.

Still, it's easy paper. And it's doin' somethin' I love to do. Fuck. And get this dick sucked. And, yeah, aiight…I might have'ta shit on a few nasty muhfuckas here ‘n' there. Whatever. If muhfuckas are willin' to pay for a lil' pleasure, why shouldn't I be the one to help them fulfill some of their freaky desires?

Real shit…as far as I see it, it's a win-win situation.

My mind reels back to Peter Pecker ‘n' his wife, Pink Tits. Now them two are some freaky muhfuckas. Do you know after that nasty muhfucka chewed up my nut-flooded condom, Pink Tits started kissin' him.

Then, right after he finished chewin' out my nut, Pink Tits told him to spit the condom out into the toilet, then flush it. He did. Then she started yellin' at him. Callin' him all types of fucked-up names.

“You worthless bastard! You lousy fuck! Look at you, you useless piece of shit! You let that Masked Man fuck my pussy, then tear my ass to shreds with his big horse cock and you did nothing, worthless fuck! You let him fuck me! Oh, how good he fucked me, you selfish bastard…!”

The muhfucka started whining like a lil' bitch, beggin' her for forgiveness.

“You want forgiveness, lil' piggy dick?!”

“Yes, my sweets. Forgive me, my love. Please…”

“Then you had better beg the Masked Man to stay ‘n' watch what comes next.”

Peter Pecker looked over at me. “Please, Mister Masked Man. Stay.”

I frowned. “Yo, I ain't signin' up for this extra shit, yo.”

“Please. I'm begging you. I'll double your fee. Plus throw in a bonus.”

Enough said. The muhfucka had me sold. Even though I wanted to get the fuck up outta there, he had me with that “I'll double your fee” shit. Plus, on some low-low type shit, my nosey ass kinda wanted to stay ‘n' see what else they were about to get into. And, word is bond, yo…them muhfuckas didn't disappoint.

“On the bed, you sad, pathetic fuck!” Pink Tits told him.

Peter Pecker eagerly did what he was told, practically droolin'
as he spread out on the bed. Real shit, I though Pink Tits was about to fuck him or some shit until I peeped her walkin' over to the other side of the room ‘n' yankin' Peter Pecker's thick leather belt from the loops of his khakis tossed on the floor.

Peter Pecker was stretched out on his stomach, grindin' his cock into the mattress, waitin'.

Pink Tits doubled the belt ‘n' snapped it together, the leather crackin' loudly.

Oh shit! This bitch's about to whoop this muhfucka's ass…

“Get on your knees, you pathetic bastard!”

This muhfucka hoisted his ass in the air, then yelled out, “Yes, my love…whip my horny, white ass!”

Pink Tits slapped the belt across his ass.

Whap!

Whap!

Whap!

She whooped the shit outta Peter Pecker until his ass turned red ‘n' bruised. Five, ten, twenty whacks to the ass wit' the belt, then the bitch dropped the belt ‘n' started lickin' over his ass cheeks, pullin' his dick to the back ‘n' strokin' it.

I couldn't believe the shit I was watchin'. But I ain't gonna front. The shit kinda made my dick hard ‘n' I couldn't help but stroke my shit, watchin' as she made Peter Pecker nut, then licked his shit clean.

Pink Tits walked me to the door, then leaned in ‘n' kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for a fabulous time. Are you free next week? Same time?”

I smirked. “No doubt. I'll be back for some more of that sweet ass.”

“It's all yours for the taking,” she said, before shuttin' the door behind me.

Real shit, two hours of sex play ‘n' I walked up outta Peter Pecker's crib wit' nine crisp Ben Frankies; eight hunnid for my company ‘n' another hunnid as bonus for stayin' longer.

•  •  •

“I did some more work for him earlier today,” I say, pushin' this morning's ep in the back of my mind. “Turns out dude's a butcher ‘n' has a lil' butcher shop over in the city. One of his workers is out on some kinda medical leave so dude's gonna let me fill in until cat gets back…”

“Oh,” she says, tryna decide if she wants to believe the shit I'm spittin' or not.

“I mean, it's only temporary ‘n' the pay ain't much, but it's straight cash, feel me? And we can def use the ends until I can snatch up a job wit' some benefits ‘n' shit.”

A slow smile eases over her pillow-soft lips. “How many days a week are you gonna be working?”

I tell her maybe like two or three—maybe four, dependin' on how busy shit gets. “It's only for a few hours a day, so I'll be home before the kids get out of school.”

She tucks the money into her bra. “Well, then, congratulations, baby. And thank you for the money.”

I lean in ‘n' kiss her on the lips. “No doubt, bae. You know I got you.” I kiss her again, then turn to leave outta the kitchen.

“Um, baby…?”

I turn back to face her. “Yeah, wassup?”

“You never said what kind of work you're going to be doing for this guy? Unloading boxes?”

“Nah, baby. Meat-packin'.”

I wink at her, walkin' outta the room, leavin' her wit' a smile on her face. My baby's just happy her man's gonna be bringin' home some bread.

I ain't gonna front, yo. The last few weeks have been crazy as fuck. My clientele list is growin' mad fast thanks to word of mouth. News of this good hard dick is spreadin' like fire.

When my paper was low Nivia made a slick-ass comment about me goin' out ‘n' slingin' some dick. That stays stuck in the back of my head. So now I'm slingin' this dick e'ery which way to whomever is willin' to kick out that paper.

I don't give a fuck. It's whatever. Singles, couples, whatever…if that cash is right, I'm ready to rock. You want shit, you want piss, you want hard dick…I got you.

Don't get it twisted, though. I ain't tryna do this shit forever; just until I find me a legit job. Ain't no way I'm tryna let Nivia catch me out there wit' my dick out if I am bringin' that paper home to her.

It ain't cheatin'. But the shit still ain't something she'd be aiight wit', even if she was the one who put the idea in my head in the first place.

Nivia would be ready to leave my ass if she knew I've lucked up ‘n' got four steady clients ‘n' two couples—not includin' the muhfucka who likes me to come through ‘n' shit on him—who wanna tag team their wives wit' me, or sit back ‘n' watch me screw their wives solo.

I know Nivia ain't mean it literally when she told me to go out ‘n' fuck for money, but still she put that shit out there ‘n' hey…it is what it is.

Still, I know I'ma have'ta let this shit go in a minute.

But, word is bond, yo. In the meantime, I'ma sling this dick ‘n' get that bread.

I'm only checkin' for them caked-up, freaky muhfuckas who don't mind comin' up off'a that paper, point-blank, period.

So until this job shit comes through, if you know anyone lookin' for a good hard fuck or freaky fun time, let 'em know I got some big, hard dick for hire.

I
F YOU ENJOYED
“D
IRTY
H
EAT,
”
KEEP THE FIRES BURNING

WITH THIS SNEAK PREVIEW FROM

BY
C
AIRO

C
OMING SOON FROM
S
TREBOR
B
OOKS

H
idden behind thick mahogany doors, a decadent sea of pleasure awaited everyone who stepped across its threshold.

The sign above the doors that opened up into the club's Italian-marbled foyer read: E
NTER IF YOU DARE
. L
EAVE BEHIND YOUR APPREHENSIONS
. S
URRENDER TO YOUR DESIRES…AND STEP INSIDE
T
HE
P
LEASURE
Z
ONE
.

Nairobia smiled wickedly.

The sweet notes of “Send Me Out” by Kelela played as flames swayed across the stunning fountain's water on the club's second level. The song was sexy. The artist's voice poured out of the speakers like warm honey. And it made the air around Nairobia thicken with sexual energy. She skimmed a hand down her neck, then allowed it to glide down over her pulsing body.

The club's grand opening had exceeded her wildest expectations. It was close to midnight, the bewitching hour—the freak hour, and the club was packed with hard-bodied hunks and curvaceously heeled women ready for a night of decadence.

Nairobia's tongue slid across her teeth as she gathered the drool that formed in her mouth, and swallowed. Salacious thoughts and forbidden desires bloomed into sinful realities right before her and she was…well, she was shamelessly wet.

Sweet pussies slid down hard dicks. Thick dicks pushed through swollen cunts; balls pushing against asses, while wandering hands skated up bodies to cup bouncing breasts. The music and the delicious sounds of orgasms echoed around the club. Permeated its walls.

And Nairobia was floating.

On lust.

On mounting desire.

Nipples peaked, her gaze swept around the sensual space, her arousal heightening. The luminosity of the flickering firelight from the gas lamps reflected beautifully off tiled mosaics of notoriously lusty satyrs and maidens. The walls illuminated by the fire's glow and its dancing flames gave the illusion that the satyrs were moving, their hips
thrusting
.

She felt herself growing lusciously wetter.

Not from the room's ambiance, but from the sight of a mocha-colored, mink-lashed vixen being ravaged by three delectable, broad-shouldered chocolate hunks. She was straddling the one with the braids, his long legs stretched out along an oversized burnt orange leather sofa as his hips thrust up in her, slicing into her cunt. Another, dark chocolate with dreads, was in back of her, his large hands on either side of her ass cheeks, the ring of her anus stretched around the head of his jumbo-size dick as he eased himself in and out of her, loosening the way inside her tunnel. The third hunk, bald, caramel-coated bliss, stood with both his hands on his hips, his legs spread wide, his balls dangling over Mr. Braids' face as Mink Lash licked the head of his dick.

Nairobia felt the urging need to squeeze her thighs together, and she did.

There was a deep throb, a sweet aching, spreading through her pussy as she watched the four lovers in the throes of unadulterated pleasure. Her cunt caught fire, enflaming her slickened lips. She could feel the flames quickly spreading through her asshole, swirling up and around her clit. Her whole body became engulfed in heat.

And she needed relief.

She needed something long, hard and thick to hose down the inferno raging inside her.

She needed to be…
fucked.

And the hedonistic sounds of hot, raw, sweaty
fucking
only coiled her desires tighter and tighter, squeezing her soul helpless until she found herself nearly breathless.

Nairobia knew she needed to turn on her heel and flee to the comforts of her plush office and watch all of the
fuck
tivities from the safety of monitors that gave her a bird's-eye view of every wicked, every sordid, every salacious act performed in every part of her establishment before she broke her rule and joined in. Temptation was gnawing away at her resolve.