hell. Pain soon turned to pleasure and she began to enjoy it. She had fantasized about having Shane’s long, thick dick up her ass while Brick dug out her pussy with his giant dick.
But that fantasy was never realized.
CHAPTER 5
L eaving Muscle Boy and Ashy Cashy behind, Monroe followed Misty across the street. Unhurriedly, Monroe dragged his feet, fronting as if it were an everyday event to be picked up and offered a quick fuck by a fly-ass dimepiece like Misty.
“That’s my whip over there.” Misty pointed to the small street where her X5 was parked—zigzagged, with two big tires cranked up on the curb and two down on the asphalt street.
Monroe checked out her truck. His mouth relaxed into an easy smile and then stretched into an ear-to-ear grin.
“Yo, this jawn is tight! That was you behind the wheel?” he exclaimed, awestruck. “Me and my boys saw you spin by the court a couple of times. Couldn’t see through the tinted windows. We thought the whip was piled up with a bunch of out-of-town niggas, coming through, trying to cut into our business. I had my hand on my heat, ready to spray the windshield with slugs.” He laughed.
“Yeah, that’s my whip.” Her voice held a matter-of-fact tone, but inside she was beaming with pride. “I was driving in circles, trying to find a place to park.” She was quiet for a moment. “Yo, there woulda been some serious consequences if one y’all corny niggas shot at me. Shit, all of y’all would be getting bagged up right now, if you woulda put as much as a scratch on my whip.”
“You talkin’ real gangsta to be such a tiny lil’ chick.”
“Don’t let my looks fool you.” She noticed his crew of two, craning their necks, trying to see what she was wheeling. “Too many nosey people around; let’s take a ride.” Smirking, she dangled her BMW keychain.
“We can stay here. It’s cool. Can’t nobody see through the tinted windows.” Monroe looked over his shoulder, obviously hesitant about putting too much distance between him and his comrades.
Misty ignored him and got inside her truck. Monroe looked over his shoulder, gave the basketball court a lingering look and then got in the passenger seat. Misty reached inside her Juicy Couture bag, took out a bundle. She laughed to herself, as she observed Monroe trying to keep a straight face when he knew he was lusting for some of her paper. “I hope you realize your two boys over there are feelin’ some kind of way for being left out. They’re feeling jealous enough to turn snitch over a couple bags of weed,” she said as she peeled a bill off the top of the stack.
“Naw, they straight; it ain’t even that type of party.” Monroe darted an eye at the one-hundred-dollar bill. She handed him the money. “Give me five dimes.”
“Uh…” He motioned as if he were about to check his pockets, but dismissed the notion. “I don’t have change for that,” he admitted, embarrassed. “You got anything smaller?”
Sighing, Misty replaced the bill on top of the pile, and then fanned out the money. She located a fifty, passed it to Monroe. She turned the key, revved the engine.
“Aiight, shawty; I’m riding with you. It’s your world,” Monroe happily conceded.
“You got that shit right.” She pressed on the gas pedal. “Roll the blunt while I look for a secluded spot.”
“Stop being so bossy!” Monroe tried to frown as he split open the cigar, but feeling pleased with his present circumstances and plush surroundings, his pleasant expression remained in place. He adjusted his seat, reclining it to a position that comfortably accommodated his long legs.
Misty drove a few blocks and then pulled into a deserted street. “You legal?” she asked Monroe, arching her brow.
He scowled and nodded. Insulted, his lips scrunched together as he fired up the blunt.
“You got ID?”
Monroe’s scowl deepened. “Who you—5-0 or somebody?”
“I’m not trying to be on Action News for molesting a
But that fantasy was never realized.
CHAPTER 5
L eaving Muscle Boy and Ashy Cashy behind, Monroe followed Misty across the street. Unhurriedly, Monroe dragged his feet, fronting as if it were an everyday event to be picked up and offered a quick fuck by a fly-ass dimepiece like Misty.
“That’s my whip over there.” Misty pointed to the small street where her X5 was parked—zigzagged, with two big tires cranked up on the curb and two down on the asphalt street.
Monroe checked out her truck. His mouth relaxed into an easy smile and then stretched into an ear-to-ear grin.
“Yo, this jawn is tight! That was you behind the wheel?” he exclaimed, awestruck. “Me and my boys saw you spin by the court a couple of times. Couldn’t see through the tinted windows. We thought the whip was piled up with a bunch of out-of-town niggas, coming through, trying to cut into our business. I had my hand on my heat, ready to spray the windshield with slugs.” He laughed.
“Yeah, that’s my whip.” Her voice held a matter-of-fact tone, but inside she was beaming with pride. “I was driving in circles, trying to find a place to park.” She was quiet for a moment. “Yo, there woulda been some serious consequences if one y’all corny niggas shot at me. Shit, all of y’all would be getting bagged up right now, if you woulda put as much as a scratch on my whip.”
“You talkin’ real gangsta to be such a tiny lil’ chick.”
“Don’t let my looks fool you.” She noticed his crew of two, craning their necks, trying to see what she was wheeling. “Too many nosey people around; let’s take a ride.” Smirking, she dangled her BMW keychain.
“We can stay here. It’s cool. Can’t nobody see through the tinted windows.” Monroe looked over his shoulder, obviously hesitant about putting too much distance between him and his comrades.
Misty ignored him and got inside her truck. Monroe looked over his shoulder, gave the basketball court a lingering look and then got in the passenger seat. Misty reached inside her Juicy Couture bag, took out a bundle. She laughed to herself, as she observed Monroe trying to keep a straight face when he knew he was lusting for some of her paper. “I hope you realize your two boys over there are feelin’ some kind of way for being left out. They’re feeling jealous enough to turn snitch over a couple bags of weed,” she said as she peeled a bill off the top of the stack.
“Naw, they straight; it ain’t even that type of party.” Monroe darted an eye at the one-hundred-dollar bill. She handed him the money. “Give me five dimes.”
“Uh…” He motioned as if he were about to check his pockets, but dismissed the notion. “I don’t have change for that,” he admitted, embarrassed. “You got anything smaller?”
Sighing, Misty replaced the bill on top of the pile, and then fanned out the money. She located a fifty, passed it to Monroe. She turned the key, revved the engine.
“Aiight, shawty; I’m riding with you. It’s your world,” Monroe happily conceded.
“You got that shit right.” She pressed on the gas pedal. “Roll the blunt while I look for a secluded spot.”
“Stop being so bossy!” Monroe tried to frown as he split open the cigar, but feeling pleased with his present circumstances and plush surroundings, his pleasant expression remained in place. He adjusted his seat, reclining it to a position that comfortably accommodated his long legs.
Misty drove a few blocks and then pulled into a deserted street. “You legal?” she asked Monroe, arching her brow.
He scowled and nodded. Insulted, his lips scrunched together as he fired up the blunt.
“You got ID?”
Monroe’s scowl deepened. “Who you—5-0 or somebody?”
“I’m not trying to be on Action News for molesting a
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