Thug Passion

I thought of my partially eaten lunch left behind on the bench and realized how much I wanted to snatch the rest of his snack from him, I was so hungry. He kept chomping, not bothering to offer me any, abruptly tossing the pit out the window.

I pointed to the entrance of the parking garage and he deftly turned into it, waved through by the security guard who recognized me. We entered the cool cavern of Mercedes, Jaguars, and other statures of success.

"Keep going," I blurted out.

Jarel didn't respond but kept creeping up the parking ramp, turning right after each floor. I let him keep driving until the number of cars lessened and we were far away from the service elevators. We reached the top floor, where nobody ever parked since the nearest entrance was a floor below. I was full aware of what I was doing even though my stomach turned flip-flops and I kept asking myself why.

"Right here," I pointed left, stretching my arm across his line of vision to a spot out of sight by prying eyes.

Jarel whipped in the lane, and turned off the ignition before turning his body to face me fully.

"Is this good?"

"It's more than good."

Without warning, I leaned into him, pressing my lips into his. Mixed with the recent fruit, I was tasting the sweetest sweat ever created by man. His lips were soft as Egyptian cotton, filled with the energy of a thousand beehives. I heard myself moan with gratitude.

His hands cupped the underlining of jaw as he pulled me in closer, smothering me with the full force of his kiss. My legs rubbed together like a cricket at midnight and I tugged at his t-shirt, dying to get to his flesh. The material gave way beneath my clenched fingers, ripping in two. I reluctantly escaped his lips to assault his chest with fiery kisses and nibbles.

"Hold up," Jarel pushed me away from him, licking his lips, "You ain't running this squad."

Running his hand around the back of my neck, he peppered my neck with machine gun kisses, moving down my blouse, pausing to pop my buttons with his teeth. Using his other hand, he slipped his fingertips down the strap of my bra, sliding around till he was palming my breast. His kisses kept a downward path until his lips found my hardened nipples, sucking them as if Gatorade would spring forward any second.

I could barely contain myself, squirming from every lick and bite, running my hands all over his smooth head, hips gyrating feverishly, my sopping pussy begging to be filled.

"Come here." he grunted.

Jarel held his grip on the back of my neck, guiding me back to map of muscle that was his chest. I licked, bit and suckled to my hearts content, not realizing how far south I traveled till the tip of his unsheathed cock brushed against my cheek bone. Just like on the court, he was a step ahead of the competition.

"Put them lips to some real use, Shawtee."

His demand only made me salivate more as I took a firm grip on his thick pole. Jarel didn't give me much time to admire to his natural work of art, pushing my neck down until his bulbous mushroom top forced its way past my lips.

I couldn't help thinking about my first Tootsie Roll. Like the candy, he tasted so sweet and I wanted to keep sucking until the flavor was gone and that was going to take forever. I took in more mouthfuls with each bend of my neck, trying to maintain control of my gag reflex. My tongue traversed his shaft, feeling out every detail, vein, and texture, drawing me an internal map. He went in so smooth, a true fit, and I got bolder. I couldn't find a decent spot to put my hand, so I just cupped his balls, pulling and squeezing, while I let my tongue play ring around the rosie.

I kept sucking, increasing my movement, assuring myself that he was loving every minute of it even though not a peep from his lips. After another minute, I was pulled off with a resounding pop. I rose up and caught a glance of my appearance in the rear view mirror. My lipstick was wiped clean, replaced by the shine of my own saliva. The air temperature in the car was rising since the engine was off and my forehead had a thin coat of sheen to justify the heat.

Jarel was busy tearing the gold foil of a condom with his teeth, smoothly rolling on the latex. Without a word, he reached under my skirt, finished tearing through my ruined hose and relieved me of my soaked panties, pausing to inhale my scent of wanting, before sliding two fingers of his left hand, his ball hand, inside me.

I came immediately, pussy clenching around his digits, hips raising to meet the thrust of his hand. His fingers were no match for his hardened cock, which I grabbed and began to stroke rapidly. Even through the sheath of latex, I felt his heartbeat. His pulsing cock was looking for a warm, wet sanctuary and I was more than ready to offer refuge.

Jarel removed his fingers, immediately stuck them in his mouth, grunting again in what I took for approval.

I wrestled with my skirt, hiking it up around my waist as far as I could before he grabbed me by the waist, yanking me over the console and impaling with the full force of a slamdunk .

All the breath rushed out of me as if I was punched in the stomach, might as well have been, his girth stretching me to my limits. I had many firsts. My first kiss, first drink, first orgasm. This was the first time that I had pleasurable pain. I felt the tremors of another orgasm taking me and moaned like an abandoned kitten in the night.

"Oh yeah, thats what I want to hear," Jarel growled in my ear.

"Errrmmm." I couldn't even form coherent sentences. But my body did all the talking for me. Pushing deeper against him, wrapping my arms around his neck and the headrest in a orgasmic grinding bearhug.

Jarel stared me down, gripping the globes of my ass as he shifted in and out of my saturated slit, spreading moist lust all over his thighs with each thrust. The cherry scented interior of the car was quickly replaced with the heated aroma of frenzied lust accompanied by the sounds of my audible satisfaction.

I couldn't stop my legs from shaking and could only let him do his thing, bearing my full weight on him in surrender. Before I could even get into a rhythm, I was lifted off and dumped back into my own seat, while Jarel completely removed his shorts. I stared transfixed at his bobbing rod; it looked bigger. I couldn't help thinking about that plant in "Little Shop of Horrors". It wanted to be fed, badly.

"Back seat," he commanded as he let his own seat recline and scooted away from the steering wheel, clad in only those spotless Nikes. I followed suit, the pain in my knee long forgotten. I barely got my butt over the headrest before he was snatching me by the ankles. Removing my battered shoes and chucking them to the side, Jarel kissed my toes one by one. I was enjoying his romantic side till I realized it was just a diversion when he locked my legs over his shoulders and thrust inside me to the hilt.

"Oooooohhhhhh," I moaned louder than I wanted to. He quickly quieted me down with the insertion of that still sweetened tongue. As good as it felt to be kissed, I could only groan as one of the seatbelt buckles dug a trench into my lower back.

The last time I fucked in a car was prom night and that wasn't no picnic either. But I wasn't relinquishing my lip lock on my thug prince for the sake of comfort.

"You aint ready." he chuckled as he pulled out halfway and slammed back into me. I was too in awe to look but his balls rubbing against my ass told me every inch of him made his way inside of me, but I never got to feel it for long as he quickly pulled out and repeated, drilling me like his cock was a jackhammer.

I gripped his steeled arms for dear life as I took the fucking of my life. He worked himself into a lather, his sweat dripping into my face, eyes, running tiny rivers between my breasts.

I was paralyzed as he stared me down. I saw that same fire that arouse in his eyes when he went to battle on the court and I knew I was getting schooled like a rec league player.

I bit my lip to keep from crying out, which made him go faster until I was ready to sing backup for the Temptations. The oos and ahhs came faster and harder and I started speaking gibberish. I lost count of my orgasms, them blending together into one continuous wave, never breaking.

As good as his dick was, I might have been a hole in the wall. He treated this as if it were another game. Well, I wasn't going to roll over like his opponents. I didn't have a stationary bike in the corner of my bedroom just to hang my jacket nor did I take yoga just to chat with bored housewives.

I dug deep within and started to fight back, squeezing my pelvis, putting a full-court press on his dick. His rapids grunting turning into slow moans told me it was working. His look of deterimination shifted to resignation as he bit his lower lip, nostrils flaring.

"You got a lil game down there, girl," he breathed trying to to keep up the pace. I threw some trash talk back at him.

"This ain't my first game." I was past the shock of this monster cock and after being limbered up, was ready to go all out. "Come with it."

With each thrust of his hips, I squeezed back. Thank you, Kegle. Pretty soon, his dick stopped driving the lane, pulling up for outside jumpers. I raised my ass higher to catch his escaping member. I wrapped my hands around his neck in a steel grip to keep him close, the fire in my eyes matching his till he had to turn away.

I took that as my opening, rising up and clamping my lips on his earlobe. He shuddered, tried to switch tactics but it was too late. I felt the rumble between my clenched hands. It rolled down his broad shoulders, ran down to the base of his spine. He tried to back away, but I deftly got my legs from around his shoulders and locked around the small of his back. All those nights of watching UFC didn't hurt either.

The first blast caught me off guard, so powerful against my spongy walls even though he wore a rubber, I came again. It became a game of chain reaction. Every time I felt his strong seed, I was forced to reciprocate with an orgasm, which caused me to tighten up and coax another strand of life from him.

Jarel surrendered his thug persona for a minute, collapsing on top on me, riding the rest of his orgasm out in shaking defeat. I took the brutal beating he put on my pussy, but I had him ready to walk away while I was ready to shout, "Next".

While Jarel tried to get his breathing back to normal, I took advantage of the situation, rubbing the back of his head, planting little kisses on his face, doing everything I thought about doing, savoring my win in the process.

Just as I was getting comfortable, the polyphonic chirp of a ringtone broke the air. Jarel pulled out and away from me with a squishy plop, reaching towards his middle console. He grabbed the phone and looked at the lit screen before chucking it in the front seat and reaching for his UNC shorts. He carefully removed the bloated condom but, just like the peach pit, opened the door and chucked it out.

"I'm out."

Those two words were my cue. No thanks, goodbyes, or transfer of phone numbers. I sat up, relieving the pressure from the seat belt on my back and tried to get myself together. I pulled my sweat stained dress down and tried to fix my blouse, but just said fuck it. There is no way I'm wearing this outfit back to work, matter of fact, I'm taking the back stairs to my vehicle and calling it an early day.

I reached in the front floor boards for my purse and slid from the reclined seats out the back door where the cooling wind dried the sweat from my face, plastering my ruined makeup in a frozen mask.

Jarel already cranked the engine of his Chevy and was toweling himself off with his t-shirt. I stood in the doorway for a second longer than I needed to hoping I would get some affirmation that I wasn't a complete fool when he turned around to look at me.

"Nice game."

I shut the door and stepped back so he could pull out. Well, it was better than nothing. But, that's what thugs do.

As I watched him creep down the ramp, Jarel stuck his arm outside the drivers window, my Victoria Secret bottoms clutched in his hand, waving a final goodbye.

I returned the wave with a trophy of my own. Two pieces of elastic cotton; extra damp.