Paris and the Drug DealerbyBazzza©
A quick note from the author. This story is pure fiction for I can't imagine any wife getting herself into a situation like this. It's just a bit of harmless fun from my over active imagination and certainly not to be taken seriously. Happy reading.
Twenty five year old Jeb Hammond had slipped into dealing grass quite by accident. For the past three years, he'd struggled financially while putting himself through an engineering degree; his only income was from any part time job he could find. The only job he really enjoyed and stuck with was at a small shop that bought and sold second hand vinyl and CD's. Music was his second love after sex, and he enjoyed the constant coming and goings of people at the shop to do business, and was quite happy to work evenings or weekends when he wasn't studying. It was also a good place to meet the ladies, and every opportunity was explored and taken advantage of.
Jeb was a tall good looking man, his skin dark from his Jamaican heritage. He had a ready smile and an easy going disposition that people liked. His wicked sense of humour resulted in customers usually leaving the shop with a smile even if they hadn't arrived with one. His shoulders were naturally wide and his waist narrow from his parent's genes; he wore his jeans tight to show off his muscled thighs and tight buttocks, knowing they attracted his fair share of female admirers. And with his wealth of knowledge when it came to music, the owner of the shop trusted Jeb to run the business in his habitual absence.
While Jeb hated drugs like coke and crack, he enjoyed the odd puff of grass. It relaxed him and made him feel good, much better than alcohol which made him a little aggressive and then left him with a hangover the next day. So grass was his drug of choice, but he was careful not to over do it. His cousin Kenny was a small time dealer, and would supply Jeb with the small amount that he wanted for his own use.
When one of Jeb's regular customers asked him if he knew where he could get a little grass, he put him in touch with Kenny, and that customer brought Kenny some added punters. A few weeks later, Kenny approached Jeb and suggested he could do a little dealing from the shop, the fact that so many people came and went; it would attract little attention from the law.
While a little reluctant at first, Jeb soon began to build up a small cliental of punters, and the extra money came in real handy. He would encourage his customers to also purchase the odd second hand CD just to maintain his cover. Truth was, his very naive boss who spent most of his time at the track, gave him a little pay rise due to a noticeable increase in sales. Jeb allowed his client base to increase slowly, but would only sell grass to new customers on recommendation from his existing punters, getting busted wasn't on his agenda.
Jeb had been dealing close to sixteen months when Paris Miller entered the shop for the first time looking for a little grass. He'd been told to expect her by one of his regulars, and had also been warned that she could sometimes be a bit of a bitch. Jeb was always one to take people on face value, and was friendly and charming as ever when he did the first deal with Paris. But the attractive brunette treated him with almost contempt and hurried out of the shop with her little bag of grass without even a thank you. Jeb hated any prejudice with a vengeance; he was always polite and expected the same courtesy in return. But each time Paris arrived at the shop, Jeb was treated with the same contempt as before, no matter what he did or said to befriend her.
It was a pity really, for Paris was something to look at. She was stunningly attractive, with her thick dark hair worn long, her green eyes were large, and her face well defined. Her attempts to hide her substantial breasts were unsuccessful, and Jeb like many other people dreamed what her clothes might hide. Most times, Paris would arrive in a skirt which showed off her toned legs, the odd time she would be in jeans which only further showed off her well formed buttocks. The fact that an engagement and a wedding ring adorned her left hand no way discouraged Jeb from his fantasies, for a white married lady, even though a good ten years older than he, would always be the desirable if not forbidden fruit.
It was on a wet Wednesday night that really did it for Jeb; Paris arrived for a buy just before he closed the shop. She cut his pleasantries short and demanded that he move his big black arse and hand over her grass. When Jeb suggested that there was no need to be rude, she told him to get fucked and not waste her time. Jeb handed the grass over and suggested that she not come back. She laughed sarcastically and left with her purchase.
What Jeb didn't know and probably wouldn't have care about, was that Paris's use of grass was purely for medicinal purposes. Paris had injured her back after a drunken fall in high heels down a flight of stairs after a night out two years previous, and the intermittent pain since was sometimes excruciating and unbearable. She had weaned herself off prescribed pain killers because of the usual side affects, and after trying grass on the suggestion of a friend, she realised that she'd found her heavenly release, even though it was an illegal substance.
She kept her little secret from everyone, including her husband Mark who was a well known and respected lawyer. He would hit the roof if he found out she was using drugs, even a little grass. He wouldn't put his reputation on the line, even for the happiness and well being of his wife. But Paris didn't care what he thought, if it was good enough for him to play around with other women, what was a little smoking of grass worth? She didn't actually know for sure that he was playing around, but she instinctively suspected that he was. The little signs of arriving home late with slightly wet hair and smelling of a shampoo that she didn't have in the house, plus the unusually diminished sex drive. To be fair she didn't really care, she sometimes wondered what love really was, for they had drifted emotionally apart in the last few years. She was resigned to the fact that the marriage would probably fail, and would ensure any divorce settlement would suffice to keep her in a reasonable lifestyle.
The weekend that Mark flew out on a so called business trip was supposed to be just like any other, but for Paris, it started badly. After dropping Mark at the airport, she had driven to a shopping centre for a little retail therapy. She had no idea when her handbag went missing from the busy shop counter, it was simply there one second and gone the next. With it had gone her car and house, keys, cell phone, wallet with money and credit cards, and many other things of importance. After taking a taxi home and using a hidden spare key to get into the house, she managed to scrape up enough cash to pay the driver. Later that evening, she tripped over a misplaced mat and tweaked her back, the pain soon began to seep through her body and the tears began to flow.
She knew that a little grass would help, but she needed cash to get it. No problem, she thought and rang two close friends who would happily loan her a few dollars without question. Unfortunately, none were home and all their cell phone numbers were stored in her cell phone, which was still in her stolen handbag. She held out for a while, but the pain just got worse and worse, and with it came the desperation.
In her demented mind, she wondered whether Jeb might consider a little credit, after all she was a good customer. Maybe he would over look their last encounter when she was intentionally rude to him. Taking Mark's car, she headed for the music shop praying that he had not yet locked up for the night.
Jeb was indeed closing up for the night; it had been the usual Friday night rush, both for grass and CD's. He was surprised when Paris entered the shop and made her way to the counter. He looked at her with cold eyes, for he was tired from the long day and in no mood to put up with her uppity behaviour.
"Hey Jeb, need a favour." she announced with a wide smile after making sure they were alone.
"And what might that be?"
"I'm in the shit; my handbag with all my money and card's been stolen. I need a little grass and wondered whether you'd give me a bag on credit?"
"Nope, don't do credit."
"Aw please Jeb, I'm desperate. I use it for pain in my back, and its killing me at the moment. Just this once."
"Sorry, no credit."
"Shit Jeb, please just this once." she pleaded. "I'll pay you double on Monday."
Jeb stared back at her in silence, and still unconvinced. Truth was, he only had a little bit of grass left and he intended to keep it for himself when he got home. He had no intention of giving it to this prize bitch, no matter how much she was in pain.
"Aw god Jeb, c'mon. I really need it."
Jeb reached into his pocket and took out his little bag, he waved it under her nose, "This is all I've got left, and I'm taking it home for myself. I ain't giving it to you, got that?"
Paris's eyes focused on the plastic bag as another spasm of pain rocketed through back; she flinched and steadied herself waiting for it to subside.
"Jeb, I'll do anything for that bag."
Jeb smiled as his eyes moved downwards over her black top and tight jeans, "What exactly does anything include?"
Paris quickly realised what he was asking, she flashed her left hand in front of his face, "Sorry Jeb, I'm happily married." she replied. "I don't fuck around."
"Oh well, that's it I suppose." he replied putting the little bag back in his pocket.
"C'mon Jeb, anything else." Paris pleaded.
By this time Jeb was kind of enjoying himself, it was gratifying to see the bitch on the back foot for a change. But he also really wanted to get rid of her and go home. He moved to the rear of the shop and turned off the main lights leaving the shop lighted but dimmer.
"C'mon Paris, I gotta go."
"Shit Jeb, just let me have the bag for fucks sake, I'm really hurting here."
"Last offer, I'll settle for a blow job." he replied more as a joke than anything else.
Paris stood her ground and stared back at Jeb. Could she do this she asked herself? Could she suck his black cock in return for that little bag? While there were times she fantasised about being with a black man, the reality was that she probably couldn't bring herself to do it, or could she? The pain in her back was tormenting her ability to think rationally.
"Just a blow job nothing else." she replied after a few seconds of contemplation.
Jeb was taken aback, for he never expected her to go through with it, but the thought of a blow job was well worth the little bag in his pocket.
He grinned, "Sure, a blow job and its all yours."
"One condition." she replied. "I'll need a little smoke first."
Jeb handed over the bag and papers, and watched Paris quickly and expertly roll a joint. She walked away and wandered the gloomy shop for a few minutes as she smoked half of it, then returned to the counter to where Jeb was standing rubbing the front of his jeans in expectation.
"Okay, let's do this, got somewhere we can go?" she said.
Jeb turned around and walked to a smallish office in the rear of the shop, a desk and a chair stood to one side, on the other side was an old couch. The rest of the room was surrounded in wooden shelving stacked untidily with files and papers. They stood and looked uncomfortably at each other for a few seconds before Paris took the lead. Sitting on the edge of the couch, she beckoned Jeb closer.
"You'd better behave yourself." she commented while undoing his belt and zip.
Paris was surprised as his large black cock sprung out at her as she pulled his jeans and boxers down, its large head bobbing just in front of her face. It was certainly larger than anything she'd been presented with before. The first thing she really noticed was how black it was, darker than his legs or arms. The shaft was thick and heavily veined; his circumcised glands slightly lighter in colour than the shaft and the head above. The large head was larger in circumference than the shaft and already shiny with pre-cum in anticipation for what was about to come. She took him in hand and slid her fingers up and down his shaft; it was warm and hard under her touch, her fingers not quite able to completely encircle his girth.
Paris's lips tentatively lowered to the head of his cock, a flick of the tongue before parting her lips wide to take him. She heard him gasp with pleasure as her tongue explored the eye before slipping down the groove to the glands below. Her mouth then slipped along his shaft to provide a little lubrication for her hand, first one side then the other. She then took the head back into her mouth and began to work him by hand and mouth, she wanted this over and done quickly.
"Ohhhh, baby, that's nice real nice." he whispered after a short time.
It had been many years since Paris had a foreign cock in her mouth. In her younger years, she'd delivered many a good blowjob to her boyfriends. She enjoyed the power of making a man hard and keeping him that way; making him squirm and tremble before their cum fired through her hand. She always wondered why some men dribbled and others fired long streams of cum high in the air, but never found anyone who could truthfully answer her question. When she first met her husband Mark, the sex had been frantic and wild, but as the years passed them by, it fell into a predicable and boring mechanical routine. And when Mark stopped licking her pussy, Paris stopped sucking cock, and that was the way it stayed, which was a shame really because she enjoyed sex as much as any woman. In all the years she'd been married, there had never been another man in her bed. There had been more than a few tempting offers, but each time she'd declined, sometimes reluctantly.
Paris settled into her routine of sucking and stoking, the only interruption to proceedings was dribble some saliva along his shaft for lubrication. She could feel the trembling of his excitement growing and gradually picked up speed.
"You might wanna take your top off." Jeb panted. "Otherwise you're gonna get my shit all over you."
Paris emptied her mouth of cock, "Not a chance, you ain't seeing my tits. Don't worry about making mess, I'll handle my end."
The affects of the grass had relaxed Paris as well as taking away the pain; it had also reduced her inhibitions and she was beginning to enjoy herself. She could feel a little dampness in her panties with realisation of what she was doing, her mouth stretched wide over Jeb's black cock. She had always thought he was kinda of a good looking guy, but also he was a bit of a smart arse. Until now, she had always discouraged any banter between them. With her eyes wide, she took in the scene before her, the long black shaft in her mouth, his flat stomach and toned thighs below.
Jeb was in heaven, it was good blow job by all standards; this uppity white bitch could sure suck a mean cock he thought to himself. He tried to disguise his approaching orgasm, for he wanted to paint Paris white with his cum. He doubted whether she would swallow, she probably intended to point his cock away from her and stroke him off onto the floor or couch. He grinned and concentrated as the end quickly neared.
Paris was aware that Jeb was close, but not how close. His cock was in her mouth when he fired the first shot catching her completely unaware; she gagged and removed her mouth before the second arrived. Jeb grinned wickedly as he took himself in hand and stroked himself swiftly. Paris was busy pushing cum out of her mouth with her tongue when the second shot caught her full in the face, she dropped her head to escape, and the third and forth shots which went into her hair and dribbled down to her shoulders and onto her top.
She sat dumbfounded for a few seconds as Jeb's cum dribbled down her face and onto her jeans. "You dirty bastard, you could've warned me."
Jeb grinned as he slowly milked his cock, "I did. Told you to take your top off didn't I?"
"What a fuckin mess, jezus you're an arsehole." Paris said angrily.
Jeb laughed loudly, "Surely am, but you ain't exactly the first person who's called me names. Wanna lick it clean?"
"Get fucked, don't be so bloody disgusting." she replied trying to ignore the horrible bitter taste in her mouth. "Where can I clean up?"
Jeb pointed her in the direction of the bathroom and left her to it. Paris didn't realise the state of the mess until she saw herself in the cracked and dirty mirror. Her face was shiny, globules of cum were splattered through her hair, and she didn't have to think too hard what the stain on her left shoulder might be. She ran the tap and cleaned herself as best she could before wandering back to the office. Jeb smiled as he offered Paris her bag of grass.
"Great blow job sweety; maybe we can do it again sometime."
Paris snatched the bag, "Only in your dreams. I won't be coming back here again."
Jeb laughed, "Shame really, cause I really kinda like you now."
"Get fucked" she replied while heading for the door.
Paris waited until she got home to take another smoke, and was soon relaxed and comfortable. After finishing the joint, she took herself to bed and found herself thinking about what she'd just done. But instead of being disgusted, her hand wandered down between her thighs and stroked her erect clitoris for a few seconds. From a bedside cabinet, she took a vibrator and began to pleasure herself while fantasising about Jeb's large black cock, and what it might feel like inside her. Her first orgasm arrived quickly and the second not long after.
By the time Sunday afternoon arrived, Paris was still in some pain. The grass that Jeb had supplied had been used the day before. She took herself to the emergency doctor, only to be prescribed the same pain killers that she'd previously weaned herself from. What she really wanted was more grass, but the thought of seeing Jeb again wasn't high on her 'to see list.' She pondered the thought of finding another dealer, but the risks of something going wrong were too high. But as her discomfort grew, she found herself driving towards Jeb's shop. There were a few people in the shop when she walked in, and Jeb's knowing smile only made her angrier. She pretended to browse while he finished serving a customer at the counter and then sauntered to him.
"Hi." he offered.
"Hello Jeb. I need another bag or two. Can you help me out again?"
"No, not until tomorrow. Please let's not go through this again Jeb."
"Hey, I'm just businessman Paris; I got costs and risks here." Jeb replied with a straight face. "Anyway, business has been good today, I've got bugger all left and I'm keeping it for paying customers. If I don't supply, my customers will go else where. You know what I'm saying?"
It was just a little white lie, the fact was Sundays were usually slow and he did in fact have a nice stash hidden in the office. But Jeb wanted to negotiate to see what might be on offer.
Paris leaned over the counter, "I'm not gonna suck your cock again if that's what
Jeb pretended to be shocked, "That's okay, cause I really want to fuck you this time."
Paris's face dropped, "That ain't ever gonna happen."
He shrugged his shoulders, "Well you ain't getting high either. Looks like business is over, so if you ain't gonna buy a CD or somethin, you might as well leave. I've got paying customers here."
Paris looked at him with contempt, but said nothing. She didn't need to, her face told the story.
Jeb leaned over the counter towards her, "If you do come back, better bring condoms, I ain't got any here."