About That Night With Me and My Boyfriend … And His Brother!
An excerpt from Hot In Here: The Remix. I guess it’s a sequel to the original, but I view it as more of a part 1.5 than part 2. Maybe I’m just being weird and dramatic. Whateves. Check it out!
Meka pried her bottom from the cushion and from the moment it swung into view, Jacob’s eyes were glued to the prize. Focused solely on comfort, Meka threw on an old gray Detroit Tigers T-shirt and a pair of red shorts constructed of pure cotton. These shorts weren’t revealing by design, but after sitting and scooting around for so long, like damn near any garment she slid into, they ended up wedged in her booty. Mesmerized by the sight, Jacob followed with his eyes while wishing he could pull a Wonder Twins maneuver and trade places with those lucky ass shorts.
“Uh oh! This my shit!” Meka returned to the living room with the nearly full cup in hand, snapping her fingers and winding her hips to the beat of the track that boasted overtones relevant to the moment at hand. After giving her man the cup of liquor, Meka took the floor, electing to put on a little performance right beside Jacob.
“I see you windin’, and grindin’, up on that pole, I know you see me lookin’ at you and you already know … I wanna fuck you … you already know!” Meka recited the lyrics with the type of enthusiasm that may have made you think she’d written them her damn self, swiveling her hips and ass for added effect.
Ron looked his woman over with a devious grin, liking this sensuous beast far more than the scorned monstrosity he thought he’d brewed up just a few short minutes ago. His dick roared to life in his jogging pants as she continued to taunt, her eyes locked within his own, searching for both approval and signs of displeasure. He was confident in successfully transmitting a signal of encouragement as she not only continued, but turned it up a notch.
“I could’ve been a stripper you know,” Meka blurted over the music, still snapping and vibrating. She then turned her attention to Jacob. “Would you make it rain for me on the stage?” Silence. “You hear me talkin’ to you, boy.” She intentionally bumped Jacob with her powerful backside, bumping his elbow off the arm of the chair.
“What? Man, Meka … damn. I don’t even know what you talkin’ bout.”
“Yeah you do. I peeped you lookin’.” Meka slowed her rhythm and approached Ron, again coddling him in an intensive gaze. She knelt down before him, burying her knees into the floor then resting her hands on his thighs.
Meka felt the beat of her heart warp into hyperspeed as she observed Ron mouth, “Suck my dick.” Now it was really on. She talked, even played a magnificent game up to this point, but could she really go through with it? Like, all the way? Because let’s be real here — if she freed her man’s lumbering tool from its imprisonment and commenced to chewing, Jacob would want to jump in, eagerly screaming, “NEXT!” Then she’d be forced to make a crucial decision …
Contel Bradford is a mystical and complex individual. You can attempt to unravel some of the mystery by visiting his author site at countkrewpublications.com.
