Note: This story takes place before: THUNDA – Under New Management
*********
“Irresistible force or immovable object?!” She asked again, more insistently getting both knees on the bed. Phoebe steadied herself with a hand on her elaborate cushioned French headboard. She reached down handling me.
“Uh, irresistible force?”
“Wrong.” She cooed throwing a leg over my body as she mounted me cowgirl.
Phoebe’s words took immediate meaning as I found myself pinned under her heavy body with nothing but her swollen sloping belly and massive breasts in my immediate field of vision. Our combined weight had me sinking into the lush mattress spread eagle. My cock was trapped into her pulsing snatch at an angle which left no doubt about what was going to happen. I could hear Phoebe taking these measured breathes huffing ass her tits jiggled with a light rubbery bounce. I could feel it in the air, something electric. She inhaled audibly, almost creating an echo off the bedroom walls.
Phoebe seized up around the base of my cock.
“AW SHIT!! DAMN PHOEBE!!! YOU GOT ME SHOOK!!!” I shouted, getting a giggle in the darkness.
********
MS. CONSENSUAL: PART 2
It felt as if were literally trapped under a boulder. The grip of her cunt was skintight around the base of my endowment seizing up further with each breath she took. The feeling was un-real making me feel as if I were about to cum from the sensation alone. I felt her rhythmically tensing up, hearing more giggling but unable to look up directly at Phoebe due to her pregnant belly and milk filled breasts.
“Aw man that feels so good Phoebe.”
“Like it, huh?”
“Damn, it feels like I’m gonna cum already even after everything we’ve done tonight.”
“Okay.”
“Huh?” Phoebe was starting to rock sawing her hips in a rowing motion while squeezing the shit out of me. My balls were mashed into the mattress trapped between my thighs dragging the bedding. The satin sheets were bunched up underneath me.
“Blow as many loads as you want; I mean, it’s kind of a moot point considering.” Her hand came into view motioning towards her belly.
“AW SHIT…it’s, okay?”
“Yeah, besides I already told you that you’re gonna leave this house walking funny when I’m done with you, check it out.” Her widened hips wrenched forward taking me on a ride as she arched her back making me realize she wasn’t so much sitting atop me but was kneeling. Her weight kept me a captive audience to her physical prowess even in an advanced stage of pregnancy. Phoebe worked out like a beast as one of her coping mechanisms. Her baby daddy Bentley’s cheating had been the catalyst.
Before I realized it, I was blowing several loads deep up inside her.
“I came.”
“So, what.” Phoebe kept it up riding me with this pitched rocking motion that felt like a sexual wrecking ball as I continued spewing. The feeling was scintillating, making my toes curl as I realized she wasn’t going to stop. The French styled bed she preferred was creaking under our combined weight as she seemed to get heavier pushing my pelvis deeper into the mattress underneath. Phoebe was trying to lean forward, finding her swollen belly an obstacle.
“I CAME PHOEBE!!”
“YEAH, SO WHAT I’M GONNA MAKE YOU WALK FUNNY!!” She shouted jubilantly, much different from the brooding creature I’d encountered when the night began.
Phoebe kept it up rocking and grinding me back into hardness adding a swivel to her hips that made me groan. It felt indescribable and squirmy as she cupped her huge milk filled breasts together squeezing them in pumping fashion. Seconds later, her lactation sprinkled down raining on my face leaving me befuddled. Phoebe was out of the box half snorting and giggling grinding me into raw meat.
“YOU’RE GONNA WALK FUNNY AHAHAHA!!” Phoebe shouted again it sound like some demented mantra as I reached the precipice again on the verge of cumming again.
“COME ON PHOEBE!!”
“NOPE!!” Her movements got more frantic while she felt even heavier as I exploded inside her again with a loud injured series of yelps. Her pussy was so tight, it honestly felt like a hand was inside it jerking me off. To make matters worse, these clamping pincer type motions were gnawing away at the base of my member. Ore bursts of her copious lactation sprinkled on my face as she kept rocking to and fro taking me on that scintillating ride through sexual hell.
“AW SHIT!!” Her mischievous laughter got louder.
I passed out.
[DARKNESS.]
“Hey.”
Phoebe’s voice came through sounding like she was at the end of a tunnel.
“Hey, wake up.”
My body felt like it weighed a metric ton as I tried to regain consciousness, starting to hear some other muffled noises along with the cooing nature of Phoebe’s rather childish sounding tone.
“WAKE YOUR ASS UP!!”
My eyes shot open.
I was there in the partially darkened bedroom with the only ambient lighting coming from a wall mounted flatscreen television. I was still lying there nude on my back looking up at the ceiling feeling a pointer finger poking me in the shoulder until I looked over to find Phoebe there beside me on the mattress. Her hair was drawn back into a ponytail, and she was wearing a red lace negligee that accentuated her bulging cleavage. I noticed a big heart shaped box of chocolates in the bed between us.
“What?”
“I need some ice chips, and maybe you should make a pitcher of ice water too.”
“Huh?”
“Ice chips, fucking understand English, right?” The attitude was back as I rubbed the back of my head fully regaining consciousness.
“Mad again?”
“Pussy, you fell asleep while I was getting my fuck on; since you couldn’t keep it up, I had a wash. I WANT SOME FUCKING ICE CHIPS!!”
“ALRIGHT!!” I sat up looking around for my clothes finding nothing.
“Don’t worry about your clothes, we’re still gonna fuck.”
“Oh, good to know.” I replied dripping with sarcasm.
I thought we hashed things out but hadn’t counted on her condition overriding our normally easygoing friendship. Since Bentley wasn’t around, I was Phoebe’s proxy punching bag grumbling as I strolled to the split style barn doors leading into the kitchen proper. I ended up filling a Ziplock bag full of ice cubes from the dispenser on the door of her industrial sized fridge smashing them into chips with a meat tenderizer pouring the icy shrapnel into a bowl.
“What the fuck is this?”
“Ice chips.”
“Ice shit?”
“Come on Phoebe, I made those in the kitchen.”
“Hey man, listen to me very carefully; I want you to walk your narrow ass back into the kitchen and open the fucking fridge door on the freezer side. The freezer side, understand? Now, you go do that, just like I said, okay?”
I didn’t say anything turning to do her bidding.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Wanna take your dinky little android phone, just in case you forget what I said on the way to the kitchen?”
“NO!”
“You mad?”
“What do you care?”
“GET MY GODDAMN ICE CHIPS!!”
Just inside the freezer door I found a metal tumbler filled to the brim with the motherfucking ice chips. They were these perfect little oval pieces of ice with a spherical indentation in the center. I felt like an idiot caveman silently raging silently in the kitchen tossing my crap bowl of ice into the sink so hard it bounced to the floor. This jolted me out of my anger realizing that I was dealing with a woman whose normal personal issues were currently magnified to extremes.
“Thanks baby.” Phoebe shifted gears sounding more relaxed when I returned with the tumbler. This gave me the idea maybe she heard a bit of my rage attack in the kitchen down the corridor.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, I want you to put your dick in my mouth.”
“Huh?!”
“I want to suck your dick, now.” She was more insistent.
“You don’t have to do that.” In the flickering light of the mounted television, I saw her brow furrow at once worried she was about to throw a full tantrum.
“It my understanding that you are my cabana boy for the weekend while my shitty neglectful husband is off getting his backdoor resized by any number of people. It is my understanding that I have already told you that you will be walking funny when you leave this house. Tell me I’m fucking wrong. Are you tired of my fat bloated ass?”
“Come on, don’t do that shit.”
“Are you gonna stick your dick in my mouth, or not?” Phoebe asked, popping a few ice chips in her mouth audibly sucking on them. We stared at one another for a moment with me losing the test of wills looking over at the old movie playing on her screen. Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello were engaging in a duet in a split screen, each with respective lovers in a movie I instantly recognized as “How to Stuff a Wild Bikini” from my childhood.
When I looked back Phoebe was still staring expectantly at me slurping on the ice chips. Her enormous tits looked incredible bulging out of the deep V-neck of her negligee. Her left boob overlapped with the other with her big rounded areola partially exposed. It’s darkness contrasted with her light olive skin tone. Phoebe slurped on some more ice chips staring back at me blankly. Her eyes shifted downward to my cock as it lengthened and fattened.
She smirked, tossing the half-eaten box of chocolates aside towards the foot of the bed as I crawled onto it presenting my cock on my knees.
The upper half pushed into her lips finding a slight bit of resistance which I couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not and the vestiges of some remaining ice chips. Her tongue caressed and swirled behind those lips jockeying those ice chips around as her cheeks inverted in this prolonged, very audible slurp. It felt so intense I was obliged to lean over her on all fours flattening my palms on the mattress taking her mouth. This wasn’t the bottomless head of past lovers like Yoli or Takisha, but her own brand of acute fellatio. It felt so good, I barely realized I was humping her mouth until she broke contact slurping on some more ice chips. Both of her areolas were exposed now.
“Wanna fuck’em?” Phoebe noticed the trajectory of my gaze.
“Yeah.” She handled the big overlapping breast curving her fingertips into it lifting it up exposing her horizontal cavernous cleavage in invitation.
“Stick your dick inside and cum for me; then I’m gonna need mine too.”
I planted my prick lengthwise inside as Phoebe let go cradling my tumescence in her swollen mams luxuriating in the heated cushiony embrace. Her large tits were heavy adding sweaty friction as I fucked them with increasing intensity on all fours. Phoebe grunted lightly as I pounded her weighted tits feeling her erect nips bumping my lower abdomen and crotch.
Phoebe added a flick of her tongue lapping at my stomach each time I pushed into her heavy cleavage.
My splooge filled her meaty crevice to excess.
“Hurry, come around and stick it inside; just push it inside me.” I slid off the mattress with urgency rounding the corner of her bed finding her naked buns and juicy peach staring me in the face. My cock was a creamy glazed over mess. She remained lying on her side in the reclining buddha pose with her butt off the edge of the bed drawing her knees forward a little when she knew I was there.
Phoebe let out this extended sigh as I found easy entrance inside her volcanic confines. Her cunt was wet, sticky, and gummy completely lubricated sort of sticking to my invading prick. I managed total immersion to the hilt as we both let out a joint moan enjoying the tactile sensation of that initial penetration. My hands went to her left hip digging fingertips into the crease as handgrips for leverage. I quickly got back up becoming erect methodically pumping Phoebe with extended long strokes. She had a few more ice chips slurping and crunching audibly on them like hard candy.
In this position, Phoebe’s butt had this sort of elastic resilience bouncing off my pelvis with a rubbery side jiggle. She kept munching on the ice chips while I hit it like ass was going out of style. Both of her breasts were fully exposed with visible moisture forming on her saucer sized areolas. Phoebe took a last mouthful of ice tossing the tumbler away grabbing a handful of her left boob pinching and rubbing the nipple between two fingers until she got a light squirt of her milk. She kept this up working that nipple repeatedly sprinkling lactation on her satin sheets.
“Aw yeah butter me up real good, get fucking sloppy with it. Fuck that pregnant pussy like you own it; I want you to creampie the shit out of me. Wet me up with your fucking jizz and then let me suck it some more.” The soft lilting moan accompanying Phoebe’s directing of traffic enhanced our tryst as I started painting her insides.
I pulled out spraying several bursts across her cheeks until it was a sloppy mess with my watery spunk was running off the curve of her thickened derriere.
“Take a pic; I want something to jerk off to, later.” Phoebe pulled her iPhone from under a pillow casually handing it back to me.
I got a few shots giving her several pics before handing the phone back as it rang with an incoming text.
“Give me that phone!” She snapped her fingers incessantly until the phone was back in her hand reading the message as I took in my handiwork.
I’d made a considerable mess of her buttocks and inner thighs close to her snatch. Phoebe seemed to have eyes in the back of her head reaching back grabbing a cheek pulling it to reveal her soiled openings for my viewing pleasure, I guess. Before I even realizing it, I was dipping my wick in the splotches of jizz between her cheeks coating the head of my member. Phoebe had this kind of pink, reddened “chub rub” in her gluteal cleft sharper in color around her rear entrance. I plopped inside going a mile a minute while Phoebe kept that cheek parted with one hand while her other hand tapped away at her phone.
“Hey take that out for a minute.” She roughly slapped at my plunging member out of the blue just as I was getting into it.
“What?!”
“I feel nasty; I’m going to hit up the shower, but I need you to get my food.” I took her arm helping her to sit upright. Phoebe handled my pecker finding that it surged in her palm. She looked slightly happy with this half smirk on her fuller face.
“What food?”
“Already paid for at the front door; all you have to do is take the bag from the delivery boy.” She was picking at her hair looking about for the universal remote pausing the television.
“Uh, sure.”
“Don’t worry, I’m going to let you finish up in my ass.” Phoebe winked making my cock twitch.
I left her sitting there on the edge of the bed walking first to the bathroom wrapping a towel around my waist. Phoebe met me coming out with this serene look on her face as she ran a finger along the side of my arm before giving my index finger a tug. I was worried she’d snatch my towel, but she gave me a push towards the front door keeping the charged atmosphere between us. I pulled away lightly disengaging us walking to the front door making sure to keep my body behind hidden as I unlocked and opened it.
“OH!”
Bentley was standing there with two large plastic bags of takeout that looked like they’d come from multiple franchises.
“Oh, hey nigga.” Phoebe’s mousy voice broke the sudden shock of seeing him there in the doorway in the middle of the night staring back with eyes as big as saucers. His gaze traveled from me as I looked back following the trajectory.
Phoebe was standing there visible a few feet away in the corridor with one hand on the wall wearing that negligee which was shortened due to her pregnancy leaving her shaved muff on display. Her breasts were bulging even more than before with those darkened saucer sized areolas visible through the lace chemise. She had this evil looking glib expression on her face looking like some kid that got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Phoebe even put a pointer finger in her mouth nibbling on a nail.
“Thanks for bringing your baby some food.” Phoebe said playfully, almost giggling like some juvenile moppet.
I didn’t know what to say.
There was nothing I could say as he stood there holding the stuffed bags looking half crazed with a five o’clock shadow wearing a frayed skater jacket, sweats and some cheap sneakers. There was a ball cap on his head that obviously didn’t fit. The twentysomething had fallen on hard times. Bentley was at once, grief stricken.
“HERE!” Bentley shoved the bags into my hands barely giving me time to react. This resulted in my towel falling away exposing my own nudity.
“Sorry!” I shouted an apology, but he was already running down the driveway where an uber waited. I struggled with the food bags, finally getting them under control as I turned to Phoebe.
“It’s fine; toss that shit in the trash.”
“What?”
“I’m not hungry anymore.” Phoebe slammed the bathroom door. The shower started soon after as I looked at the food haul left behind.
I packed the bags into the fridge walking back to the bedroom.
“You think I’m awful, don’t you?” Phoebe asked upon returning to the bedroom wrapped in a terrycloth robe that was too sizes big hiding her figure from view.
“He cheated on you so all’s fair in war and love. Bentley is a reprobate son of a bitch who bruised your ego by cheating on you with a woman in her fifties. So, you get cart Blanche to run him down and toy with his sanity until he either offs himself or come over here looking for trouble wherein you’ll probably light his ass up with a pistol and be immediately exonerated by reporting him as an abusive ex looking to harm you and his unborn child.”
Phoebe stood there in the doorway processing my answer for a few moments, then walked over giving me a kiss on the forehead before crawling into bed beside me still wearing the robe. She restarted her movie snuggling up with me under the satin bedding.
“Rub my belly.” Phoebe went back into her reclining preferred buddha position in the middle of the bed requiring me to move my feet initially. I got behind her as she undid the sash on her robe pulling my hand inside to rest on her tummy.
“Assuming he survives this pregnancy; are you even going to let Bentley see his kid?”
“Haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Phoebe.”
“Don’t, I just uhm…want you to stay with me this weekend, and fool around a lot. I know I’m supposed to be the fucking good girl and shit, but not right now. I got aches and pains, swollen titties full of milk for a baby that ain’t even here yet, and my pussy stays wet, like all the time. You’re one of my best friends in the world so, just lump it and fuck me a whole lot.”
“Is that all you need from me?”
“No.”
“What else, then?”
“Be nice to me no matter what I do to that motherfucker that knocked me up. Just ignore that shit; I know what I’m doing, okay?”
I didn’t answer watching the wall mounted flatscreen television. Eric Von Zipper aka comedian actor Harvey Lembeck was doing a musical number in a poolhall with his motorcycle gang singing an oddly affecting song “Follow the Leader” which addressed his apparent change of lifestyle for a woman he was smitten with. My hand softly caressed and rubbed her tummy and another man’s baby inside. I felt like scum of the earth even though Phoebe used me as a prop to emotionally gut this child’s father.
“Don’t be mean to me.” Phoebe cooed softly drifting off.
I followed moments later.
[DARKNESS]
“YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!!!” Vicky took off running hard. It was equally difficult not to laugh at her awkward gait because she looked like a big ostrich running across the grass with her arms folded across her chest. Her horseplay got the better of me as I closed the distance between us reaching out unsure if I wanted to grab her arm or that big, jiggling butt.
“BRING THAT ASS HERE VICKY!!” She glanced back finding me a fingertip’s distance away suddenly kicking it into overdrive bounding easily away from me laughing and giggling like a demented toddler.
“COME ON, CAN’T YOU KEEP UP BITCH?!!” Vicky taunted.
“HATE YOU!!”
I picked things up from my end speeding after her as she neared the picnic tables. My left hand was outstretched aimed directly at her bouncing cheeks, tan lines, and all. I figured I deserved something for the impromptu workout. Vicky suddenly stopped short of the tables so quickly that I wasn’t going to be able to avoid colliding with her.
“MOTHER-FUCKER!!”
Her fist smashed into my nose flattening it with the force of a battering ram. It was so sudden and vicious; I was instantly laid out on the grass looking up at the afternoon sun. It honestly felt like I’d been hit in the face with a baseball bat.
Phoebe’s cute rounded face appeared in my field of vision as a bird flew by overhead. She looked pissed off to the ninth degree.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
**********************************************************************************************
My eyes opened fluttering in the sunlight filtering in from a nearby window. I was buried under a comforter snug finding the television still on with a paused movie on its screen. Jody McCrea aka Deadhead was frozen in the process of being saved from drowning by a mermaid that looked familiar. As a former tv head I placed the actress as Marta Kristen from this old television show called Lost In Space. I was wrapped up nicely and comfortable trying to figure out why my periodic dream returned at this time. The dream always signaled something coming down the pipe. This time Phoebe appeared this time making me antsy to go address it with the woman in question.
“Aw shit.” I facepalmed hearing voices in the other room, familiar voices.
The smells of breakfast food assailed my nostrils as I began to sit up listening to a lively conversation in what sounded like Phoebe’s kitchen. I was feeling it everywhere after being mauled by my manic host. My bones cracked as I stretched my shoulders arms outward. There was nothing but the towel left to wrap around my pelvis opening the bedroom door to retrieve some clothing from my bag in the living room.
Everything just sort of happened once I was well, deployed to keep Phoebe company by her “husband” Oliver. Now I stepped out into the corridor hearing strains of “Under the Influence” by Chris Brown. There was no mistaking the source of the music and the identity of the singer’s number one fan in my life. Months earlier a certain star slid into her DM, but got out just as quickly, but not before she took a screen shot of it. It was sort of a prized possession and the subject of much comedic back and forth conversations between us.
Those sixty plus inches of online fame greeted me wrapped in a skintight pair of Fushia high waisted daisy duke shorts on the verge of bursting at the seams, sort of distressed material. Her huge heart shaped donk was showing out this Saturday morning getting an instant reaction from me below the waist. The bottoms of her rich chocolate cheeks bulged ridiculously from the bottoms of those shorts like baked bread. On second thought, cake.
“What’re you doing here?”
“This ain’t your house…and check your tone.” Rashida answered glancing back at me as she leaned against the lower half of the door peering into the kitchen.
The upper half of the barn style door was open. My usual running buddy and partner in crime wore a lime green Cami crop tank top. Her lemon sized boobs looked fetching minus any sort of brassiere sitting perfectly on her chest as Rashida regarded me with her customary mean mug, one raised eyebrow. I glared back looking her in the face unflinching where many other men always looked away under that patented stern gaze. She was made up professionally with a three earrings in each ear and her usual choice of jazzy updo which was more of a pony hawk this morning.
“I invited her over so that we could get to know one another.” Phoebe interjected inside the kitchen where she was presently cooking a decadent omelet. She was wearing an oversized pair of beige silk pajamas with her hair pinned up.
“We talked about this last night.”
“You said she couldn’t come over last night, not today.” Phoebe corrected.
“OH, YOU DON’T WANT ME AROUND?!” Rashida perked up, animated. Her phone was on top of the shelf inside the upper half of the kitchen barn door playing the tunes.
“Relax, this is supposed to be Phoebe’s weekend.” I explained planting my hand in the small of her back just above the swell of her sixty plus inches of online fame. My hand had a mind of its own sliding down over the upper swell of her butt.
“…but you’re feeling on my ass, huh? Make it make sense daddy.” Rashida called me out playfully while Phoebe shot me a disparaging look holding the skillet in one hand. I raised the offending hand doing the twinkling fingers gesture at Phoebe.
Both women burst into laughter as Rashida motioned towards her cheek getting a peck as she turned her narrow head at an angle.
“Thought you said you wore his ass out last night?” Rashida questioned Phoebe getting a chortle.
“It’s nine in the morning; he was out at two in the morning snoring like a hillbilly.”
“You fell asleep before me!”
“Correction, napped; there’s a distinct difference.”
“You didn’t put me to sleep, stop flossing.” I playfully argued back slipping my arm around Rashida’s narrow waist getting that mean mug again but ignoring it.
“I SMASHED the FUCK out of you last night; and you getting that work today too! I’m gonna embarrass you in front of your girlfriend!” Phoebe’s tone skewed slightly urban sort of mimicking Rashida’s verbal mannerisms.
“WE DON’T GO TOGETHER!” Both of us shouted at the same time as my hand was shoved away from her narrow waist roughly. I looked at Rashida for a second, then back at Phoebe busy using a spatula to place the decadent looking omelet on a plate of fine china.
“You guys are friends, right?”
“Well, yeah.” Rashida answered ruefully, side eyeing me like I’d said something to Phoebe.
“And you fuck too, right?”
“Sure.” I answered unevenly.
“She’s your woman then.” Phoebe chortled as Rashida shrieked opening her oven pulling out some biscuits with her other hand which was covered in an oven mitt.
“HEY!” I shouted.
“Shut up “daddy” and stop acting like you’re not thinking about having a totally epic threesome with us.” Both of us shrieked making our pregnant host laugh outloud.
“Should you be doing something like that when you’re pregnant?”
“Doctor says I can have as much sex as I want; you think it’s gross?” Phoebe glanced at Rashida pointedly worrying that her attitude might rear its ugly head.
“Of course not, I’ve never had a baby before, but I always thought you had to sit on the bench when you had a bun in the oven. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it but I’d be worried about you getting hurt, or the baby.”
“Oh yeah?” Phoebe was using some tongs putting slices of Canadian bacon on three plates stealing a bite from one munching loudly.
“Well, I’m just saying that’s what I thought.” Rashida added somewhat awkwardly.
“No shit; hey, you ever had a threesome before, like with daddy here?”
“Huh, well no….now that I think of it which is surprising considering all the times we’ve hooked up.” Rashida cupped the back of her head in thought as I facepalmed.
“Ever been with a girl?”
“No, not really; but I took turns with uhm, some friends but that was different because we were taking turns with this nigga-uh, this brother. We were like, in the same room and everything, but we weren’t doing it to each other. Uhm, well we rode this guy together. I was uh, sitting on his face while that other..bitch was sitting on his junk.”
Both of us chaffed inside in front of Phoebe for different reasons as Rashida recalled the veritable orgy, she’d engaged in with her former best friend and infamous present enemy who was currently persona non-grata. Rashida shot me a look that read shame with Phoebe picking up on it.
“I had my first threesome with your man right here.” Phoebe chortled seeming to enjoy the nonverbal interplay between me and Rashida.
“He’s not my man.”
“Yeah, at this point he’s pretty much for the streets.”
“HEY!!” I shouted, making both of them laugh, breaking the underlying tension in the room.
“Take out the garbage.” Phoebe ordered, holding my breakfast plate hostage.
The small shiny metal cylindrical can was stuffed with all of the takeout Bentley brought in the middle of the night. She’d removed the food from the fridge and trashed it putting an exclamation point on her view of him as her narcistic plaything post breakup. Phoebe looked down at the trashed takeout then at me with furrowed brows starting to get heated. Rashida looked from my face to hers unsure of what would happen next.
“TAKE THE MOTHERFUCKING GARBAGE OUT!!” Phoebe screamed like a banshee.
“YES SIR!!” I saluted, shouting back, suddenly jolting Phoebe out of her attitude.
“Damn.” Rashida commented.
“I’m gonna put some fucking pants on in case you two wanna get cute and lock me outside, like last night.”
“Whatever.” Phoebe shot back waved me off turning back to the plates on the counter almost hissing under her breath.
“Everything okay, I mean up in here, like right now?”
“Don’t worry baby, everything’s peachy keen.” I retorted getting an additional nuclear glare from Phoebe for using her short lived porn name as a dig. My hand landed in the middle of Rashida’s sixty plus inches of online fame with a loud audible clap that drew Phoebe’s attention. Her head jerked in my direction with an animalistic snarl written all over her face.
“TAKE THAT FUCKING GARBAGE OUT!!”
“OKAY!!” I stomped off shoulders stiffened getting into some blue sweats and a white tee before snatching up the stuffed can.
Fire was pumping through my veins from the verbal abuse and disrespect in front of Rashida as I walked to the outside dumpster. This time I was smart enough to take the keys to the locked receptacle, noticing a raccoon bolting off across the street as I approached. It made sense why everybody’s garbage was on lock and key in hindsight. A few feet out from the house I realized I was barefoot.
“Hey, what the fuck?!!” I was beaned in the back of the head with an egg with the kitchen screen door slamming loudly.
Instead of going back I dumped the trash as ordered, standing there leaning against the dumpster taking a break from Phoebe’s toxic tantrum.
“I DON’T CARE IF YOU HATE ME!!” She didn’t keep me waiting yelling unseen from the screen door loud enough to be heard a few doors over. Luckily, there was a concrete canyon on this side of her ranch styled home bordered with a large city erected fence. The next couple of affluent homes were a good fifty feet away on its opposite side.
“SHUT UP PHOEBE!!”
“FUCK YOU!” The heavier kitchen door behind the screen slammed and audibly locked.
I didn’t give a fuck despite my belongings and phone being sequestered behind Phoebe’s walls.
Ten minutes later the front door opened with Rashida popping out headed in my direction with fidgety contrite look on her face.
“You could’ve at least brought my stuff out; are you gonna give me a ride home?”
She stopped short with this purposely befuddled expression on her face starting to shrug and kind of half smirk in cringey fashion.
“NO!”
“She’s pregnant man.”
“FUCK NO!!”
“Look, them hormones be raging when you got a bun in the oven; I’m not telling you to take shit but man, she’s pregnant.”
“Not my baby.”
“You sure, nigga?”
“Fuck you.”
Rashida chortled closing the distance draping an arm over my shoulder leaning into my body grinning like a Cheshire cat. This only lasted a second as she got egg residue on her forearm egregiously wiping it on the front of my t-shirt before remembering herself.
“Oh, sorry.” She snickered as I gave her the stink eye looking at the stain on my chest.
“Go get my shit and then we gonna go to my house and I’m gonna get your monkey ass pregnant, bitch.” My hand shot up between her thighs middle fingers on her crotch cradled on either side by her huge bulging ass cheeks. Rashida scoffed looking down at her crotch from the front finding the visible tips of my fingers in her business.
“Damn you extra with it this morning.”
“You gonna tell me I can’t fuck?” I deadpanned looking her in the eye completely serious. Her face softened as she found the answer to my question.
“Yeah, if you don’t go back in there and talk to her.”
“SHIT!”
“She’s pregnant.” Rashida shrugged, smiling disingenuously.
I didn’t say anything, trudging back towards the front door but looked back at Rashida with my hand on the door handle.
“She’s pregnant.”
I flipped her the bird stepping inside.
Phoebe was nowhere to be seen in the living room or kitchen. I found the plate that was supposedly me mine half eaten and tossed in the sink presumably in a continuation of her hormonal rage. There were shards of glass intermingled with the defiled breakfast food as I looked over at the table in one corner of the large kitchen finding Rashida’s plate clean. I chaffed inside knowing she’d taken the time to have breakfast before coming outside to lecture me on Phoebe’s condition.
I snatched open the fridge finding a pink box full of various pastries and donuts I recognized as among the items brought last night by Bentley. I copped an apple fritter and this unopened plastic bottle of orange juice I discovered in the door. I wanted something for my troubles before talking with the giant toddler masquerading as my friend. There was no doubt she was in her bedroom probably watching her movie again or having another meltdown.
Phoebe was laying in her bed sandwiched in a pregnancy pillow. Her back was facing me as I weighed the possibility of walking away with my things and going home.
“I’m hungry.”
I looked over her shoulder noticing my own reflection in the mirror on her little makeup table. In the time since I’d been there, the French styled piece of furniture had been moved over to make room for the wall mounted television. I noticed her reflection in the mirror staring at my looking acidly pissed. There was a box of tissues on her other side, and she had a handful dabbing at her face. I looked at the pastry in my hand then at her angry face.
“Here.” I handed her the treat taking a seat on the bed uncapping the orange juice. It was spoiled leaving a tart unsavory taste in my mouth.
“Can you rub my feet?” She asked sniffling as I put the bottle on her bedside table.
I slid down to the end of the bed placing her feet in my lap massaging them as she asked without word or further conversation about her shitty behavior in the kitchen. It was easy taking care of her this way, but I chafed at my surrogacy for her embattled baby daddy.
“That feels good, thank you.” She offered in-between bites of my pilfered breakfast treat.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You gonna leave and go fuck Rashida?”
“Maybe later, after this weekend is over?” Her foot jerked in my lap almost hitting me in the crotch, but I had a good grip on it. The pastry hit the floor near my left foot with a messy bounce which I ignored.
“Just admitting it, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna fuck the shit out of her.”
Her foot jerked again, more violently this time.
“Ain’t nobody stopping you; go fuck her in that big fat ass then; cum all over that shit for all I care jackass!”
“No Phoebe.”
“I DON’T CARE!”
“Yes, you do, but you ain’t hearing me.” She managed to snatch her foot back but failed to draw her knees upward because of her baby bump.
“I hear your childish ass just fine and I’m going do something about it!” I jumped up on the bed covering her upper half on all fours. This seemed to catch her by surprise as evidenced by this nervous flinch with her arms up in a defensive posture. Her indignant expression was supposed to make me retreat but I was too smart to fall for it now.
“WHAT’RE YOU?!! FUCKER!! ASS HAT!!” She shrieked as I roughly cupped her chin getting some squealing and little growly sounds pushing my pointer finger into her mouth. Her teeth pressed down hard but didn’t go far enough to inflict pain as I pumped a finger between her lips making this shushing sound. Her eyes went wide in disbelief as I pushed further rubbing the top of her tongue still shushing her and making these annoying cooing sounds.
I was honestly shooting from the hip.
“YOU!!…FUCK BOY!! I’LL SCREAM IF YOU…!!!” Phoebe flopped about wedged between the pillow as I kept it up working my finger in and out of her mouth getting closer to the side of her face.
“STOP YOU FOOL!” I lapped a slimy trail along her rounded cheek to her ear slurping on her ear lobe before sucking on the outer curve of it. Phoebe’s eyes squirmed then gasped when the tip of my tongue invaded her ear swirling about. I got nasty with her ear and cheek using my right hand to breach the elastic waistband rubbing the space right above her butt intensely with three fingers.
“Ah, shit you’re crazy motherfucker; I’ll have Oliver sue you… Aw fuck, what’re you trying to do?” My middle fingers slipped between her buns rubbing especially hard drumming up some friction.
Phoebe started sucking my invading finger working it like a surrogate cock with inverted cheeks. Her head started moving as loud syrupy slurps filled the room. Her breathy moans and incessant humming sent shockwaves to my prick turning it into a steel bar. I withdrew from the back of her pajama bottoms reaching under her top grabbing her right boob squeezing it heartily. My fingertips pinched and rolled the engorged nipple making her gasp and wince as I had my way with her. I let my hand roam all over that breast groping and pinching until she was fit to be tied.
“PLEASE FUCK ME!!” Phoebe wetly spit out my finger begging for my prick. My sweat pants hit the floor.
I snatched her pajama bottom down in a frenzy having a hard time but managed to expose her butt driving my cock inside her with authority. I resumed my quadrupedal posture over Phoebe’s lower half with part of the pregnancy pillow folded up fucking her from the side with hateful passion. Her volcanically hot snatch got me in the zone causing me to spread my legs wider getting some serious depth.
“FUCK THAT PUSSY!!” Phoebe’s mousy voice hit like an adrenaline shot.
I just started spewing jizz filling her full completely pounding her out with these loud pancake slaps of flesh on flesh. Phoebe palmed her forehead whining loudly rolling and distending her nipples.
“Oh yeah, you know exactly how to make me behave; come up here and stick the real thing in my mouth. Let me clean that up for you baby.”
Phoebe gave me a scintillating cleanup blowjob and kept going moaning and humming on my member.
“Are you going to leave me here all by myself?”
I resumed my seat on the edge of the bed with her feet in my lap massaging them as I tried to formulate an answer to her question. Part of me wanted to bail before she went full psycho, but I knew Oliver would come looking to split my wig when he got back from his boy themed weekend out in the sticks. A promise was made on my part, and I wanted to keep it, in earnest.
“You’re leaving?”
“If you don’t tell me what’s really going on.”
“I already told you; it’s my hormones.” We both knew I wasn’t convinced.
“Phoebe.”
“What if I promise not to be mean for the rest of the weekend?”
“PHOEBE!”
“Well…!!” Before she could go further there was a knock on the door followed by Rashida just opening it shoving her head inside staring at both of us. I could tell by the look on her face that told us she knew we hooked up.
“Hey uhm, you guys still hungry?”
“YEAH! YOU WANT ME TO GET UP ANND MAKE YOU SOME FOOD?!” Phoebe shouted forcing herself to sound glib. It felt like she’d just dodged a bullet, but there was no way I was letting her off the hook.
I just nodded meekly as Phoebe started moving yanking up on her pajama bottoms still stuffed in the center of her pregnancy pillow. Instead, Rashida pushed the door open further standing there with a glass platter. There were four stuffed breakfast burritos on the plate. My stomach growled at the sight of the food.
“I got it covered Phoebe; I made six just in case you were still hungry if you wanted these. I hope you’re not mad I used your kitchen, but I know how those cravings go when you’re pregnant. My cousin was having a baby a few years ago and she was an ABSOLUTE TERROR…Not uhm, saying you’re being a terror or anything. May I come inside your bedroom, Phoebe?”
“Yeah girl you burning for me, come on in here and keep me company without getting my blood pressure up, unlike some people around here.” I grimaced at the not so subtle dig at my person giving her toe a brief rough tug and getting a kick back as Rashida walked inside with the platter.
“Here!” Rashida surprised me by shoving one of the fat breakfast burritos into my mouth with attitude. I gagged barely catching the rest from falling into my lap.
My palm swiped up at light speed smacking the shit out of those sixty plus inches of online fame.
The cheeks jiggled slightly despite my best efforts to slap them off of her back as Rashida turned to me with a raised brow while handing Phoebe the platter. It seemed as if she would respond in kind leaning over level with my face only to be momentarily interrupted by Phoebe’s impish laughter. Rashida glanced over taking in her mirth as she stuffed her face.
Rashida planted a chaste kiss on my lips instead then offered her hand.
“Phoebe, can I talk to him for a few minutes outside?”
“What’re you asking me for?”
Rashida smiled weakly then took my hand leading me back to the kitchen where she had a plate waiting for me. The moment we walked out of the bedroom, Phoebe turned up the volume on her television as loud as it would go signaling another tantrum. Rashida stood over me as I had a proper breakfast filling a cup of orange juice for me a few times while staring a hole in my face pointedly.
“What?”
“Sure that ain’t your baby?”
“Are you kidding?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You’re serious?”
“Well, look how she’s acting with you; that shit is well, giving baby mamma vibes like a motherfucker.”
“No, it ain’t.” I retorted at once indignant.
“Daddy, that woman acts like she’s got papers on you. That’s baby mamma vibes, negro.”
“Rashida Sikes, I am not the father of Phoebe’s child.”
“Spoken like a true Clinton.”
“Goddammit!” I almost choked on a mouthful of eggs, but she gave me some hard pats to the back helping me clear my throat.
My throat ended up feeling very sore after I coughed up some food that had gone down the wrong pipe. Rashida offered me a renewed glass of orange juice to wash the rest down, but I waved her off getting up leaving her in the kitchen. I went back down the corridor doing mental gymnastics starting to doubt my own sanity shoving the door open finding Phoebe laying there watching another movie at a moderate sound level now. On screen some old Japanese monster movie was in process with two giant humanoids brawling in a city while being bombarded by the nearby navy.
I stood in the doorway glaring at Phoebe in profile laying there with some comforters covering her baby belly. My mind was traveling backward for the details of our last hookup and the particulars. Oliver already thought I was the baby daddy instead of Bentley even though the man was regularly pulling all nighters with his “wife” with no protection in sight. My mind went there anyway knowing my mother would probably be ecstatic to have a grandchild while cementing my current status as the black sheep of the family for making pornography. My father probably wouldn’t care but would ogle Phoebe, nonetheless.
I wondered if Phoebe would be that duplicitous and malevolent, if it were true.
“RASHIDAAAA!!” Phoebe screamed out of nowhere at the top of her lungs knocking me out of my internal strife.
“HEY! Is, everything okay Phoebe?” I was shoved out of the way as Rashida came running in a panic shoving me aside rounding the edge of the bed.
“Could you uhm, go in that small drawer on my vanity table and give me the envelope in there.” I leaned against the door frame as Rashida shot me a look full of accusation.
“Over here?”
“Yeah, uhm that one right by your hip; it’s a big white envelope kind of crumpled up.” Rashida followed through finding and pulling out the aforementioned big wrinkled envelope taking care to unfold it before handing it to Phoebe.
“Come over here and stop brooding; I want you right in front of me with Rashida.”
My heart started thumping in my chest as I walked over feeling a little weak in the knees. Rashida’s eyes followed me until I was near. She took my hands interlocking her fingers in mine for emotional support as Phoebe opened the envelope pulling out a bunch of papers letting them spill all over the mattress.
“I heard you two talking and I just wanted to let you know that a while back I thought about the possibility too. I was not looking forward to having a baby with a man child. Especially one that cheated on me after I did everything in my power to remake him in the image of “daddy” right here. Yeah, I was hating on Charity for setting us up that night, but then felt stupid because there ain’t no way she would’ve been stupid enough to let herself get knocked up by a simp.”
“I’m sorry.” Rashida started to apologize but Phoebe waved it off, brow starting to furrow.
“This is my moment, respect.” Phoebe replied as I felt nauseous when she found what she was looking for staring intently at the single piece of paper.
“Okay.” Rashida looked at me then glanced down at the floor.
“Okay, here it is friends, the answer to the sixty-four thousand dollar question.”
I exchanged glances with Rashida as she squeezed my hand.
“YOU-ARE-NOT THE FATHER!!”
“HUH?!!” Rashida bucked her eyes releasing my hand as Phoebe started laughing her ass off with her free hand on her belly.
“Honestly, I wished you were the baby daddy, but this test says otherwise.” Phoebe kept laughing as Rashida snapped.
“FUCK SO FUNNY?!! AND WHY YOU KEEP MISTREATING HIM IF HE AIN’T YOUR BABY DADDY?!!” Phoebe didn’t seem upset at the outburst flattening a palm against her chest answering the question.
“Guess I’m mad he isn’t my baby’s father Rashida; trust me, if you met Bentley, you’d understand why I’ve got uhm, issues. Wanna meet him?”
“Hey wait a minute.” Phoebe was already texting up her hapless baby’s father despite our protestations.
“Hold on Phoebe.” I tried to interrupt getting shooshed.
“Bentley, where are you?…what, are you talking back, talking shit? You talking shit to me asshole? You’re supposed to be here!! Excuse me, huh?!! Are you busy? You got something better to do than helping me out with your fucking baby?!! YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!!…huh, I don’t care! YOU’RE STILL TALKING DUMBASS!! ”
Phoebe ended the call hanging up in his face looking pleased with herself before noticing the collective shocked expressions on our faces.
“He cheated.”
“OH!!” Rashida responded touching a hand to her cheek as I looked at her doing a doubletake.
“Oh? What the fuck do you mean “OH” Rashida?”
“She said he cheated.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, that explains everything; look, you can’t cheat on a pregnant woman and not expect some nuclear blowback. That nigga is lucky she didn’t cut his nuts off. Yeah, he probably started looking when she started showing and shit. You know how guys are, right?”
“No, why don’t you tell me about it bitch?” I cocked my head to the side irritated at her casual slap in the face to my gender.
“He cheated on me with an old lady.” Phoebe cut in enjoying the interplay between us.
“Ew, that’s nasty.” Rashida looked disgusted scrunching her narrow face up at the news. I folded my arms fed up with them both and Phoebe in particular.
“Your friend here, fucked her too.” Phoebe added looking between us as Rashida did a doubletake letting her jaw drop.
“Ms. Hate.” I added statically offering nothing else.
“Huh?”
“MS. HATE!!”
“What?” Rashida looked confused.
“On my site, her name is Ms. Hate; she was on some serious shit a while back trolling a friend of mine and got sloppy with it. That old bitch was doxing one of my models outside of you guys and thought she could get paid on the down low before popping up all brand new at my church. This shit happened after I got kicked out of your friend circle with infamous you know who. I wanted to prove to myself that I could go my own way and put out an ad online, for talent.”
“You were so desperate, you clapped some old stale cheeks?”
“Ms. Hate, but her slave name is Sister Jacobs.”
“Ug, how old is this woman?”
“How should I know; maybe mid to late fifties?” I shrugged as Rashida looked one step away from regurgitating.
“Damn I never figured you were on that “Get In where you Fit In” tip; all up in the musty drawers, fuck that’s uh, nasty.”
“MS. HATE RASHIDA!!” I made a phone gesture as I shouted in her face.
“Oh.” Rashida got her iPhone out of her skintight back pocket bringing up my site as I glanced over at Phoebe who was watching us pensively looking wholly malicious. Her bottom lip was quivering uncontrollably as Rashida’s eyes went wide.
“OH SHIT!! MS. HATE!!…uhm yeah, okay then.” She looked up at me from the face of her phone then at Phoebe who was about to burst.
“If you say anything, I’ll scream until I have a miscarriage.” Phoebe growled knowing the physical truth of her ex-boyfriend and my dalliance was explained by a simple thumbnail on my site.
“It ain’t that serious girl, she ain’t but an old thot. She just getting what she can get before somebody lock her musty ass up in the fucking old folks home. Phoebe girl, I’ll ride with you.” Rashida planted her sixty plus inches of online fame on the edge of the mattress rubbing Phoebe’s arm.
“You mean it?”
“Yeah, girls got to stick together, or these fools will run all over us. I know you whupped that ass, right? I mean, your ex, right?”
“Of course, I gave him a concussion.”
“Damn Phoebe!” Rashida chortled sort of forcing it while I scratched the back of my head rolling my eyes.
“I got nothing.” I added looking about wondering if walking out of the room would trigger another tantrum. Phoebe had proven to be way more than a handful. Walking out was still on the menu, but I remembered that recurring dream I’d had during the night that was usually the signal for some oncoming shenanigans.
Quisha was never wrong about these things. I resolved to wait it out to see the other shoe to drop.
“That thing is huge.” Phoebe poked a pointer finger into the side of Rashida’s butt.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You should see me when I’m not knocked up; I think I could give you a run for your money, at least in the legs department.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Listen to Phoebe.” I cautioned.
“Aw you just trying to score brownie points.” Rashida shot back.
I snatched the comforter off of Phoebe before she could react revealing the truth of her lower half. Rashida’s butt stopped me from completely yanking the covers free of the bed. Phoebe was laying on her side with the pajama bottoms bunched up between her legs exposing them from the lower thighs to her tiny feet. I was about to get verbally dressed down when Rashida glanced at Phoebe’s legs.
“Shit!” Rashida stood up turning about looking down at Phoebe.
“Told you.”
“Sheesh, you been wearing those baggy pajamas since I got here this morning; never would’ve thought you were holding like this. Are you uh, a body competitor or something?”
“Are you trying to say I have legs like a man?”
“Not even, they’re perfect and better than mine, but I still got the booty.” Rashida chuckled as Phoebe’s features softened.
“I used to be a lot heavier back in school; one of my husband’s past boyfriends got me into the gym. Got my body really tight and toned, bought some tits to even out everything; not that anybody ever noticed.” Phoebe shot me a look.
“Where did we meet?” I shot back.
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. It’s just that I wish I got more validation, uh publicly if you know what I mean? Rashida, how do you deal with the constant attention?”
“It’s not like that, all the time; when I met daddy here, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of me.”
“Don’t start.”
“Hey, it worked out, didn’t it? I mean we ain’t stopped hooking up since then, huh? This guy cracks me up sometimes Phoebe; can’t keep his hands off the booty.”
“That not surprising, look at that thing; it’s fucking iconic.” Phoebe complimented.
“Uhm, I don’t want to offend you; but are you gay?”
“Don’t think so; I’ve only been kind of with one girl but that was in a threesome with yours truly right there.” Rashida shot me this surprised look which embarrassed me enough to turn around and sit on the bed watching the movie.
“Now I know why you were so different that time in the backyard; you apparently got in a lot of practice, huh daddy?”
“Shut up.”
“You guys did it in a backyard?”
“Well, kind of; I was sunbathing in this bomb ass bikini and this fool snuck up on me and started playing with the kitty. Uhm, you know how he is obviously. This guy is so fucking sneaky these days; he’ll be in your panties before you even realize it. Ain’t that right daddy?”
“Shut up.”
“Why do you call him daddy?”
“Because he gave me a new lease on life; a true restart after I’d been finessed for years by a supposed best friend. I’m not perfect, and he just…accepts me as I am, no questions asked. You know what I’m saying?”
“…yeah.” I glanced back over my shoulder, finding Phoebe laying there watching me with a somber smile on her rounded face.
I reached down handling one of her feet giving it a light one handed massage. Rashida gave my bicep a squeeze with this heartened smile on her narrow face.
“Careful Rashida, we might end up doing our thing if you keep looking at me like that.”
“What thing?”
“Every time we end up in some new place, we do it in the bathroom. Well, that’s how we started back in the day. This fool got hella mannish with me in my former friend’s bathroom; fucked the shit out of me in there, and outside the door in the hallway too.”
“REALLY?!”
Rashida chortled rubbing my back leaving the answer out there in the air.
“Hey uh, can I see it?”
Rashida traced the trajectory of Phoebe’s gaze to her sixty plus inches of online fame.
“Maybe I’m pansexual.”
My running buddy scoffed standing up already unzipping but still having a hard time digging her thumbs into the waistband of her skintight shorts drawing them laboriously over the swell and curve of her supple monstrous ass. I forced myself to look away staring at the movie on the mounted flatscreen.
“OMFG!” Phoebe exclaimed, making me look back anyway.
Rashida was wearing a tiny lace string bikini panty that covered nothing but her peach and that, barely so.
“Clap that shit.” I ordered.
Rashida had the shorts bunched up in the deep undercuff of her butt wedged tightly in the crease because of the volume of her cake. On cue she flexed and clapped filling the room with her trademark thunderous claps making Phoebe laugh aloud and clap at the show. Rashida ended the brief demonstration by jiggling her cheeks individually and collectively with a final earsplitting wet sounding clap. She gave Phoebe a wink and a smile.
“Well, I’ve still got you in the legs department.” Phoebe commented.
“Nothing beats the butt.”
“After I have this kid, I’m definitely gonna be in the gym working my squats; you don’t mind, do you?”
“Aw, go ahead; I figure I ain’t getting out of this house until you do.” Rashida shrugged then noticed me looking at her with this sarcastic half smirk on my face.
She gestured with a shrug of her shoulders.
“What?”
“Just remembering how much hell you gave me when we first met.” Rashida scoffed as I folded my arms across my chest in front of her.
“That’s different…you’re a GUY!”
“Oh yeah, remember what happened when I caught you in that bathroom?”
“Negro please, that was sanctioned.”
“So, I wouldn’t have had a chance otherwise?”
“Man, I not saying that; I’m telling you that it was sanctioned because you were signed off on by my girl at the time. She tried you out and gave the thumbs up rating. I was supposed to be in that bathroom instead of Mintzy.”
“Who’s Mintzy?” Phoebe interjected.
“Old friend, busted ass Italian beotch with these really big titties; daddy here, was absolutely crucifying her on the pene back in the day. Got her hooked on the BBC, for reals Phoebe.” Rashida’s assessment of a former member of her disbanded sewing circle was brutal.
“I thought you liked Mintzy.” I commented.
“She was clout chasing and hanging around for table scraps; almost got the business when she came at Jaquan, but you know how connected she was, huh daddy?”
“She came at my cousin?!”
“It was after you were uh, gone.” I winced remembering the con perpetrated upon my person that ended initially with my ouster from the social circle.
“Damn, I feel like I need to take notes.” Phoebe commented letting her hands do the walking grabbing a handful of those sixty plus inches of online fame.
Her fingers were parted by the sheer girth of Rashida’s right ass cheek as she marveled at its weight alone. She let go turning her palm upward, sinking her fingertips into that undercuff jiggling it herself getting our attention after a few seconds. After this, Phoebe grabbed it while palming it like a basketball lightly pulling on it exposing a bit of the diamond shaped negative space between her thighs. I noticed the focus on her face as four fingers disappeared between Rashida’s thighs somewhat impeded thankfully by Rashida’s bunched up shorts.
“Shit girl, you going after the cookies or something?” Rashida turned around carefully disengaging Phoebe’s fingers.
“Maybe, it’s just, so much; I don’t know how you manage it.”
“I do.” My fingers were between Rashida’s cheeks rubbing her slit, finding it fast getting dewy downstairs as she reached back disengaging my hand but keeping control of my wrist.
“BRUH?!!”
“Oh wow, the front looks delicious; can I uhm, touch it?” Phoebe was invested in getting Rashida’s attention with a whip of her head in the direction of our host.
“No.” She started side eyeing both of us, suspicious.
A loud series of knocks at the front door interrupted us before things got even more awkward.
“HELP ME UP, SHIT!!” Phoebe suddenly began flopping about inching about, nearly toppling off the bed until we each took an arm helping her sit upright. She was gassed, already huffing and puffing, still trying to get up as Rashida continued aiding her by supporting her bicep.
“What is it girl?”
“Bentley, get me up so I can get him!”
“Phoebe!” I cautioned.
She was already standing with a hand on Rashida’s shoulder but stopped short looking the woman up and down as the knocking continued along with a few rings of the doorbell.
“HEY!!” Phoebe grabbed handfuls of Rahida’s shorts yanking them down mid-thigh almost getting clocked in the process, but I grabbed my friend’s wrist as an explanation was forthcoming.
“TAKE THESE OFF AND ANSWER THE DOOR!! COME ON, HURRY UP!!” Phoebe was a woman possessed and so intense that Rashida was out of her shorts in moments standing there towering over her in wedge sandals.
“Don’t help her.” I got shoved roughly as both women pushed past me with Phoebe leading the way.
The fleeting view of Rashida’s wholly exposed cake and a pervasive sense of dread prompted me to follow them out into the living room to see Rashida standing in front of the closed living room door as Bentley continued knocking and ringing the doorbell incessantly. Phoebe was standing just behind the door holding this ash shovel from the fireplace looking ready to swing for the fences.