The Family Business

“Oh my God. Oh, God. Please don’t ... please don’t stop! A little harder. Yeah, right there. Oh yeah!”


My foot almost slipped off the toilet from the sheer force of his upstrokes. The boy couldn’t dance a lick and his conversation was boring as hell, but he had a big old dick that he sure as hell knew how to use. He was fucking me so good, I was contemplating putting up with his boring ass on a regular basis. Especially if it kept Daddy happy.

“Got-damn, you got some good-ass *! So wet and tight, makes a nigga wanna scream,” Trevor grunted as his dick ran deep in me, all signs of civility gone to the wind. My * had him forgetting his private school upbringing and takin’ it to the streets faster than he could drop his creased slacks to the floor. “Shit!” he screamed.

“Uh-huh, go ahead and scream, baby. Let the world know Momma’s shit is the damn bomb!” I was not shy about admitting my sexual skills, either. Better men than he had lost themselves between these legs.

“Da-yum! I want some of that,” one of the coked-out dykes said a little too loud. I guess she must have been bisexual or something. Her friend shoved her against the wall, asking her if she knew who I was and telling her that she needed to shut up.

That’s right, bitch, I thought. Glad my reputation precedes me.

“Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop,” I gasped, and Trevor obeyed, gripping my hips tighter with his strong fingers as he redoubled his efforts. The next thing I felt was an aura of ecstasy that swept over my body like a monsoon. I rocked my hips in rhythm with the driving 808 bass from Ciara’s new song echoing outside the restroom, until my flows of ecstasy coated his dick. I came so hard, I could barely breathe.

I couldn’t be sure, because I was still in quite a fog from my orgasm, but I could have sworn I heard the rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire right before a sudden silence replaced the thumping beat outside the bathroom door. Before I could even react, the bathroom door seemed to explode. The lesbians screamed at the top of their lungs and someone shouted, “Freeze, bitches! This is a fuckin’ robbery!”

Ain’t that some shit? A motherfuckin’ robbery! I should have known better. Rio warned me about all the shit going down in Brooklyn lately. Dammit, why the hell didn’t I ever listen? I glanced down at Trevor, who looked like he was gonna shit on himself. From the space under the stall, I could see two sets of legs. I placed my finger on my lips, signaling for him to stay quiet and not move. Maybe, just maybe, if we were lucky, they wouldn’t realize that we were in the stall.

My wish came true as the robbers forced the two girls out of the restroom without even a glance under the stalls. Talk about it being our lucky day. Trevor helped me down from the toilet with trembling hands.

“I’ll get us outta here. Just ... just stay close,” he uttered, up close in my face. He was talking a good game, but I could see he was scared to death. He unlocked the stall and peeked out.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here.” I pushed homeboy to hurry the fuck up. All I wanted to do was get back home to Queens, but he stopped me.

“Keep your voice down and relax. We don’t know what’s going on out there,” he warned, looking toward the door. We could hear the melee on the other side.

Trevor crept over to the bathroom door and opened it slightly, but then shut it quickly. “Oh my God.”

“What? What’d you see?” I was about to push his ass out of the way and look for myself.

Carl Weber with Eric Pete's books