PART 6 - POLO & TYSON
I def needed more practice before I was anywhere near ready to attempt Bear, so I hit up my girl Kristen to see if she wanted to go out for a little play time.
A late night, some cocktails. Plus I was horny as hell and wanted a real fuck. It wouldn’t do to show up drooling like some tween boy when it came time for the main event with Bear.
We decided to check out this place Vibe in Lauderdale. Kristen came through to my spot looking sexy as hell. She’s about 25 and already married to this older dentist dude named Kenneth. He travels the country lecturing on this procedure he invented to regrow bones in people’s heads. He has a bunch of cadaver skulls on dry ice in the garage. Swear to God I’ve seen them.
Anyway Kristen is tall. Like 5’10. Kardashian vibes. Meaning she’s had a bit of work done, as is customary in Boca Raton. Fat bee sting lips, high contoured cheeks, a beautiful set of heavy fake tits. Her body is super trim and tight and she loves to show it off. Maybe even more than I do. That night she hopped out her M6 in this ultra snug white corset dress that made her tits bust up nearly to her neck, long blonde extensions, peach cream lips.
You know where we’re going right, I said.
I fucking suggested it. said Kristen.
It’s hip hop night. You’re gonna get raped.
Kristen took a shot of Jack in my kitchen, puckered her lips and said, Then I guess I wore the right thing.
My outfit was bit more low key. Just little skin tight black cocktail dress and strappy boots. The skirt was def on the short side to accentuate my rapidly plumping ass.
As we were walking to the Beamer I noticed Kristen checking me out.
Someone’s not skipping leg day.
I smiled. Yeah I been getting it in.
My little thickie, said Kristen. Lookin for a big black schlong.
I smacked her ass and she yelped.
Well, I said, if it’s over a foot I promise to share.
We cruised south on 95. Florida nights are stupid good. That dark tropical wind and neon lights. I felt like we were Crockett & Tubbs heading down to Miami to work some go-fast boats. Real sexy dangerous shit.
I asked Kristen how were things with Kenneth and she said fine, that they had their arrangement that worked for both of them. She’d show up at events with him, be the candy on his arm, let him fuck her occasionally. In return she got to drive what she wanted, travel wherever, shop and screw without him asking.
I asked if she ever enjoyed sex with Kenneth and Kristen laughed. Uh Brooke, I think you have to actually be able to feel something to enjoy it.
Oh shit, I said. I’m sorry.
Please girl don’t be. He comes so quick with his tiny dingus. Sometimes I cry but the tears hit the Beamer leather.
We both laughed. A girl’s gotta get hers.
Predictably, Vibe was going off. I think 21 Savage was supposed to be inside somewhere.
As soon as we rolled up bouncer waved us to the front of the line. I heard a guy say, that’s wifey right there.
The bouncer looked us up and down, bit his lip. Goddamn mommy. Kristen kissed him on the cheek and we were inside.
Booming trap music from a DJ in the center of the room. We moved slow through the crowd, the heat and press of bodies rubbing against me on both sides. Everyone just a shape and a feeling.
Kristen grabbed my hand. A guy had already bought her a bottle and invited us to his table. They looked like South American soccer players. 20s, loud, rowdy, already drunk. One of them blew a rail off the table and fell over.
Bout to get fucked up, said Kristen.
She poured me a tumbler of Grey Goose and I scoped the room.
I could give two fucks about soccer players. Especially wasted ones. I knew what I wanted.
A pack of Haitians over by the bar. There we go, I said.
They’re thugs, said Kristen. These guys are rich.
These guys are coked out. And those guys over there are hung.
I made Kristen down her vodka and we headed for the bar. The Haitians picked up on us without hesitation. One called himself Polo - a bruiser with gold fronts and diamond chain. He was prison big. The kind of big you get from lifting buckets of cement. But he had soft brown eyes and a handsome face. He called over a bottle of Ace and poured us each a glass.
The other guy was well fed with a big chest and round belly. He kicked back against the bar looked stoned as hell wearing a vintage Coogi sweater. Tats around his neck, the names of women. Chubby cheeks. He looked my up and down and grinned a big smile. Ain’t you a fine lil thing, he said.
Small packages, good things, I said.
He took my hand. I’m Tyson. Big packages, big things.
I giggled and wiggled in under his arm. I loved his sweater and his full soft body. He smelled like Givenchy and chronic.
Polo already had has hand on Kristen’s ass, talking into her ear. She giggled, her breasts pushing into his chest. She was good and toasted. I could see where this was gonna go.
The DJ was playing Travis Scott, Young Thug. Polo took Kristen out onto the floor, sipping a snifter of cognac while he watched her dance.
So lil Brooke, said Tyson, what brings you girls out here hangin wit dudes like us. Ya’ll get bored in Boca.
We have a wide range of hobbies and interests, I said. Stick around you might learn something.
You on some real Devry shit huh. Adult education after hours.
I hit the books. Crack the whip.
Guess I’m in the presence of greatness, said Tyson. Consider my ass humbled.
I caught glimpses of Kristen and Polo through the crowd. She was up on him hard, working his crotch, flipping her hair. More Haitian dudes around them now. Friends of Polo. She gave them all a show like it was a private dance, her skin glowing under the lights, her big tits busting out of that little dress. I was getting turned on watching her. Thinking about what those guys wanted from her.
The club was getting packed. Hungry eyes roaming all over. I knew if I wasn’t next to Tyson guys would be all up on it.
The next time I looked back at the dance floor I couldn’t spot Kristen. The crowd seemed to have swallowed her. I waited for a minute to see if her blonde head would pop up again but it didn’t. Usually Kristen could take care of herself but she was plastered in a reckless mood. I told Tyson I had to use the ladies room and slipped away to do some reconnaissance.
I slipped around the VIP booths and the DJ lounge but no sign of Kristen. I checked the ladies room, under every stall, even asked a dude to check the men’s. Nothing.
At the end of the hallway before the emergency exit a security guard was watching a staircase that led up to some kind of office.
You haven’t seen a hot blonde chick back here have you?
He grinned. You lookin for the party you can go on up. He stepped to the side and showed the way upstairs with his flashlight.
Fuck, I thought. Another goddamn staircase.
I remembered all too well what happened the last time.
But of course I climbed it.
Come on, don't you know me by now?
I def needed more practice before I was anywhere near ready to attempt Bear, so I hit up my girl Kristen to see if she wanted to go out for a little play time.
A late night, some cocktails. Plus I was horny as hell and wanted a real fuck. It wouldn’t do to show up drooling like some tween boy when it came time for the main event with Bear.
We decided to check out this place Vibe in Lauderdale. Kristen came through to my spot looking sexy as hell. She’s about 25 and already married to this older dentist dude named Kenneth. He travels the country lecturing on this procedure he invented to regrow bones in people’s heads. He has a bunch of cadaver skulls on dry ice in the garage. Swear to God I’ve seen them.
Anyway Kristen is tall. Like 5’10. Kardashian vibes. Meaning she’s had a bit of work done, as is customary in Boca Raton. Fat bee sting lips, high contoured cheeks, a beautiful set of heavy fake tits. Her body is super trim and tight and she loves to show it off. Maybe even more than I do. That night she hopped out her M6 in this ultra snug white corset dress that made her tits bust up nearly to her neck, long blonde extensions, peach cream lips.
You know where we’re going right, I said.
I fucking suggested it. said Kristen.
It’s hip hop night. You’re gonna get raped.
Kristen took a shot of Jack in my kitchen, puckered her lips and said, Then I guess I wore the right thing.
My outfit was bit more low key. Just little skin tight black cocktail dress and strappy boots. The skirt was def on the short side to accentuate my rapidly plumping ass.
As we were walking to the Beamer I noticed Kristen checking me out.
Someone’s not skipping leg day.
I smiled. Yeah I been getting it in.
My little thickie, said Kristen. Lookin for a big black schlong.
I smacked her ass and she yelped.
Well, I said, if it’s over a foot I promise to share.
We cruised south on 95. Florida nights are stupid good. That dark tropical wind and neon lights. I felt like we were Crockett & Tubbs heading down to Miami to work some go-fast boats. Real sexy dangerous shit.
I asked Kristen how were things with Kenneth and she said fine, that they had their arrangement that worked for both of them. She’d show up at events with him, be the candy on his arm, let him fuck her occasionally. In return she got to drive what she wanted, travel wherever, shop and screw without him asking.
I asked if she ever enjoyed sex with Kenneth and Kristen laughed. Uh Brooke, I think you have to actually be able to feel something to enjoy it.
Oh shit, I said. I’m sorry.
Please girl don’t be. He comes so quick with his tiny dingus. Sometimes I cry but the tears hit the Beamer leather.
We both laughed. A girl’s gotta get hers.
Predictably, Vibe was going off. I think 21 Savage was supposed to be inside somewhere.
As soon as we rolled up bouncer waved us to the front of the line. I heard a guy say, that’s wifey right there.
The bouncer looked us up and down, bit his lip. Goddamn mommy. Kristen kissed him on the cheek and we were inside.
Booming trap music from a DJ in the center of the room. We moved slow through the crowd, the heat and press of bodies rubbing against me on both sides. Everyone just a shape and a feeling.
Kristen grabbed my hand. A guy had already bought her a bottle and invited us to his table. They looked like South American soccer players. 20s, loud, rowdy, already drunk. One of them blew a rail off the table and fell over.
Bout to get fucked up, said Kristen.
She poured me a tumbler of Grey Goose and I scoped the room.
I could give two fucks about soccer players. Especially wasted ones. I knew what I wanted.
A pack of Haitians over by the bar. There we go, I said.
They’re thugs, said Kristen. These guys are rich.
These guys are coked out. And those guys over there are hung.
I made Kristen down her vodka and we headed for the bar. The Haitians picked up on us without hesitation. One called himself Polo - a bruiser with gold fronts and diamond chain. He was prison big. The kind of big you get from lifting buckets of cement. But he had soft brown eyes and a handsome face. He called over a bottle of Ace and poured us each a glass.
The other guy was well fed with a big chest and round belly. He kicked back against the bar looked stoned as hell wearing a vintage Coogi sweater. Tats around his neck, the names of women. Chubby cheeks. He looked my up and down and grinned a big smile. Ain’t you a fine lil thing, he said.
Small packages, good things, I said.
He took my hand. I’m Tyson. Big packages, big things.
I giggled and wiggled in under his arm. I loved his sweater and his full soft body. He smelled like Givenchy and chronic.
Polo already had has hand on Kristen’s ass, talking into her ear. She giggled, her breasts pushing into his chest. She was good and toasted. I could see where this was gonna go.
The DJ was playing Travis Scott, Young Thug. Polo took Kristen out onto the floor, sipping a snifter of cognac while he watched her dance.
So lil Brooke, said Tyson, what brings you girls out here hangin wit dudes like us. Ya’ll get bored in Boca.
We have a wide range of hobbies and interests, I said. Stick around you might learn something.
You on some real Devry shit huh. Adult education after hours.
I hit the books. Crack the whip.
Guess I’m in the presence of greatness, said Tyson. Consider my ass humbled.
I caught glimpses of Kristen and Polo through the crowd. She was up on him hard, working his crotch, flipping her hair. More Haitian dudes around them now. Friends of Polo. She gave them all a show like it was a private dance, her skin glowing under the lights, her big tits busting out of that little dress. I was getting turned on watching her. Thinking about what those guys wanted from her.
The club was getting packed. Hungry eyes roaming all over. I knew if I wasn’t next to Tyson guys would be all up on it.
The next time I looked back at the dance floor I couldn’t spot Kristen. The crowd seemed to have swallowed her. I waited for a minute to see if her blonde head would pop up again but it didn’t. Usually Kristen could take care of herself but she was plastered in a reckless mood. I told Tyson I had to use the ladies room and slipped away to do some reconnaissance.
I slipped around the VIP booths and the DJ lounge but no sign of Kristen. I checked the ladies room, under every stall, even asked a dude to check the men’s. Nothing.
At the end of the hallway before the emergency exit a security guard was watching a staircase that led up to some kind of office.
You haven’t seen a hot blonde chick back here have you?
He grinned. You lookin for the party you can go on up. He stepped to the side and showed the way upstairs with his flashlight.
Fuck, I thought. Another goddamn staircase.
I remembered all too well what happened the last time.
But of course I climbed it.
Come on, don't you know me by now?
