NBA Payoff: The Hotel Incident
A full moon took shape in the sky as the girls played the dreaded waiting game. They passed the time in a plush hotel suite, spread across the cozy king-sized bed with a lesbian themed adult movie playing on the wall-mounted flat screen. Hits of hypnotic dank made them frisky. Sips from the lean had them hotter than hell, leading the tandem to slip from the casual attire and into their primetime skimpies. Reenacting a few scenes from the flick was a fitting course of action.
“Fuck waitin’ on this nigga.” Those were Cathy’s words before she pinned Meeco down and nibbled at her neck. The impassioned, impatient women didn’t waste time kissing. After a few smooches and licks, they scooted their way to mutual bliss in the famed 69.
A petite build made Meeco ideal for the top layer. Her size allowed for varied motion, shifting from graceful to frenetic according to the tactile impulses triggering her every response. Intoxication unlocked every sensation. Swollen nipples straining against thin lace. Thong fabric biting into her asshole. Fingers sinking into her cushiony soft cheeks. Mouth hungrily gumming at her sweet spot.
“Mmm hmmm. Right there.” Cathy stole a beat to collect her breath and call her shots. Not even a warm pussy could muzzle this freak starved for vocal control. “Eat dat shit up. Get up in there!”
“Ohh shit!” Interrupting the spirited tryst was none other than man of the hour. Slipping in undetected, Sparky Henderson marveled from the vestibule. Mouth dropped, cock rising by the second. The mingling of alcohol and adrenaline flooded his six foot seven inch frame with a powerful, immersing cocktail.
“Can I join in or what?”
“Come on, daddy.” Rear arched, flexible neck cranked to see behind her, Cameeco teased with a tongue coated in Cathy’s cunt. She dropped her head and went back to town, leaving the ball squarely in the ball player’s court.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Sparky shed his tracksuit and the garments underneath it, then broached the scene. He recognized Cathy from the thick thighs wrapped around the other woman’s head. They met at a local after hours joint, where she talked up her flock of all stars. Thus far she had delivered. Now he would determine if they warranted the price of admission.
Manhood gently swaying, he turned and caught a glimpse of the graphic footage on the TV behind him ⸺ — two light skinned beauties engaged in 69 ⸺ — coincidence of the kinkiest kind. He turned back to the live action, taken by the view of Meeco’s parted ass cheeks and the face gobbling at her snatch below.
“Well well well.” The arrogant adonis joined the ladies in bed, ready to make his mark.
The masculine musk of cock lured Cameeco to lurch for it. She was both surprised and impressed to find that even on his knees, his glorious ten inches found near perfect alignment with her mouth.
“Damn,” she gasped. “You came to play.”
“I’ont fuck around, baby girl.”
Cameeco reached out and wrapped a tight fist around his throbbing instrument. Sparky was packing more meat than she’d played with in some time. Longing for a taste, she leaned in and took the tip in her mouth. She wanted to taunt him. Treat him to an inch by inch sample of her capabilities. But she had to adapt on the fly.
Cathy drowned beneath Cameeco’s increasingly soaked sex. Pulsating pussy eclipsing her face. Nose buried in a flinching asshole. She struggled to breathe, yet relished in the smothering, gulping from the slivers of oxygen the mindless crowning afforded. In return, Cathy lashed out in fury, blindly licking, sucking, and biting what she could.
Triggered by Cathy’s oral rage, Cameeco went to town, revving up the intensity at every turn. She shifted her grip to the base, surprised to find it even thicker than the bulbous shaft. Her mouth, slick with excess spit, aided the ambitious mission to deepthroat herself into oblivion. No amount of spirit and vigor could stop the onslaught of gagging and the violent spells of colorless vomit that followed. Charge it to the game. She sucked it all up and after a breath, continued to feast.
“Ohh hell yeah. I got some mo dick fa you. Open up. There you go.”
Sparky Henderson palmed Meeco’s tiny head like the basketballs he handled so effortlessly. He went on the offensive, ramming his cock with no regard for any thresholds or barriers. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he hit the back of her throat, springing yet another flood.
Meeco disengaged, gasping, drool spilling onto her lace covered breasts. “Don’t rush, baby. I got this.”
Sparky’s aggression was telling. Indicative of a man accustomed to living life his way. An entitled deity who’d been pampered since the world learned he could slam an orange ball through a netted hoop. Another smug asshole who saw panties dropped at his beckon. Cameeco loathed such men, finding them more insufferable than the typical deviant trick. But tonight, she’d fall in line and play caterer like all those before her.
Cameeco sank into her arch and angled underneath his towering cock. The shift allowed her to push Sparky’s big dong back into his belly and by proxy, release Cathy from her seated prison. She ran a warm sticky tongue along the saggy skin of his weighty scrotum. He cooed delightfully ⸺ — so she stuffed those fuzzy balls into her mouth, determined to snatch his soul.
The notion of this steamy threeway tryst was not lost on Cameeco. Not with the lips and tongue snacking at her goodies from below. Cathy ate pussy like she’d earned a Masters in the field, accenting a ferocious oral game with animated cheek gripping and flexing, her mastery of touch sensory and its sensuality on full display.
“Suck this pussy,” Meeco commanded.
“Suck this dick!” Sparky shut her up by shoving his cock right in her mouth. Caught in mid moan, Meeco wasn’t ready, and subsequently gagged it with slime as he hit the back of her throat.
“Look at you,” he said. “Deep throatin’ this dick like a champ.”
If you will it, so it will be, and thus Cameeco recovered, expanding the depth of her gullet to accommodate the uptick in intensity. Aided by a tightly wrapped fist, the vigor of a deepening throat and soppy cock made for loud, squishy melodies that rivaled the audio squeaking from the TV.
Sparky expressed the thrill of fucking her face tunnel in a chorus of moans and vulgar suggestions. “Gimme my shit, girl! Take this dick in yo face!” He hit eject and commenced to slapping his hardness across her face, beating the thick meat on either cheek. And just when Meeco shut her eyes and embraced the facial assault, he directed the attack back to her mouth.
Time tick tocked and positions flip flopped. Cameeco found herself near the foot of the bed, still gulping away with a mouthful of cock. Fronting Meeco’s point of view, Cathy sat atop Sparky’s face, bouncing in rhythm to the provocative hip hop that replaced the porn in the background. The voluptuous lesbian basked in the sensuous glory of this rare heterosexual encounter. Gender, sexual orientation, or preference mattered not when a gamed partner tapped every one of your hot buttons. Those big strong hands were indiscriminate as they clapped their imprint into her ass cheeks. Rolling tongue showed no bias while repeatedly parting her lips.
“Fuck yeah, nigga,”Cathy growled. “I’ma smother you wit all dis ass.” She made every attempt to do just that, breaking the half arch to sink into a full kneel that swallowed his face in the deepest recesses of her buttocks. “Lick my asshole, boy. Get ya tongue all the way up in there. Yeah.”
Unbeknownst to most, Cathy’s gay card was both fluid and more situational than she led on. In fact, the opportunistic hustler went as far as sucking and even fucking a phallus or two, depending on the stakes in her grasp. Most of those dynamic scenarios saw her playing the role of receiver. She was not above allowing a lowly sap to brown nose and bury his tongue in her shitter. Tonight marked one of those special occasions that called for Cathy herself to play a role and get in where she fit.
Auditory evidence told a tale of abundant delight. Silent realities spun a different story. Cameeco’s disdain for the shared trick soared with each passing second. He yapped more than Wesley Pipes, constantly babbling directions and boasting cocky drivel. Even buried underneath a mound of ass and pussy, he just wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Problem was, that insufferable attitude attributed to the wetness pooling between her Southern folds. She popped the cock in and out of her mouth with purpose, aggressive fist pump suggesting that a mouthful of cum was the ultimate goal. The candid POV only served to heighten that passion. Meeco kept an eye on Cathy’s frenetic motion, the view fostering both excitement and envy.
Curiosity drove Cameeco to spin this party in a new direction. She slid off the mattress and made her way around the bed before climbing back in from the right side. All the while, she kept busy, strumming her pussy with the vigor of a heavy metal guitarist, destined to sustain every sinful sensation.
“Get yo ass over here,” Sparky mumbled, freshly freed from his torturous pussy prison.
Cameeco didn’t acknowledge the rude request. Thus far, he’d lived up to the reputation that preceded pro athletes on the mingle ⸺ — entitled, conceited, and more than a tad obnoxious. What did she care? Meeco had run across many a tricks that carried on like God’s grand gift to the galaxy. Half of ’em couldn’t even fuck. This arrogant bastard could boast and brag until his heart was content. At the end of the night, she and Cathy would be laughing en route to the bank.
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.
