Ms. Consensual: Not My Baby!! Ch. 02

"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.

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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.