An Excerpt from DEN OF SIN
“Like A Boss” – Slim Thug
“Tell me you love me, Des.” I was saying this shit for his benefit. Hell, he could’ve been making Confession. I really could have cared less. I was here for one purpose and one purpose only. I was here to bust a nut on his tongue and drench his hands in pussy juice. The best part? He was going to waltz his dripping ass out of here without even washing his face or hands. I don’t care what I had to do. He would go out to meet them with Pussy Juices a la Nadia dripping off his hands and facial hair.
“I love you, Nadia.” Des was so pathetic. One minute he was looking at me with unabashed lust in his eyes. The next, he was looking around fearfully as if the door wasn’t locked. He really needed to calm the fuck down. Nobody was coming in here ‘til I was done; especially not her. “You know I love you, Nadia. I want to make love to you all night, every night. I can’t get enough of your sexy body, your beautiful face; this gorgeous hair.”
Yeah, yeah, I’m thinking; just get on your knees. I licked my lips and smeared spit on his before I eased him to the floor with one hand. With my other, I was pulling down my zipper of my Paper Denim jeans and dropped into a high-backed chair in red velvet. I was about to unleash the beast and let the fun begin. My clit was hard and ready long before his tongue disappeared into my slit. It was on now.
“Crawl over here, Des.” I was ready to bust! Just knowing that his wife, the Deaconess, was somewhere on the other side of the locked door was utterly orgasmic. His pitiful ass crawled toward me. My jeans were down to my knees, my thong pushed to the side. When his lips were in striking distance, I snatched him into my bush and closed my eyes. One hand on each ear, I rubbed my clit up and down his forehead.
“Just let me put it in, Nadia, please. Just a little bit. I won’t come in you, I promise. I love you, Nadia. Don’t do this to me.” Yeah, yeah, I’m thinking; not today. And you’d better not stop. My abs were getting a hell of a workout. I left a li’l juice on his earlobe.
“Oh, you love me? How much, Desmond? Tell me how much you want to be inside this tight, hot pussy that ain’t been stretched out by four babies, like hers.” The Deaconess could move a small South American village into her snatch and have plenty room for more. Babies, my ass. She could have that shit. I had my legs up in the air, his wet sloppy tongue slurping my pussy like a starved dog.
“Nadia, I…” He never got to finish that sentence. His lying-ass words disappeared into the bush. He was always about to leave her. Later. Next week. Yeah, yeah, Des, I’m thinking; just keep licking. I was jerking his head up and down. He looked like a bobblehead doll.
“What, Des? What where you saying? You love me? How much do you love this? All I want to hear is that you’re leaving her and are finally coming home to Nadia. Don’t I deserve it? Don’t you deserve me?” I was getting my shit off, knowing I was about to send his pussy-smelling, cheating ass right out to her. Next week, I would fuck him in her Lexus SUV and leave a little Nadia Juice on the plush leather.
“Nadia, I…” His words got cut off in the bush and drowned out by my moans. My hips were up in the air, his tongue stabbing my asshole, then sucking my pussy lips like a homeless man on his first meal. I was not hearing his lies today.
“You ready to move into this pussy for good? Put your hands in it. You feel all this? All this wetness is for you, Des. You did this to me.” Three fingers from each hand parted my nether lips and dove in. Regardless of how much of a terrible, married liar he was, the sex was vigorous and juicy. But he wouldn’t get his married dick in my Pussy a La Mode today.
I gripped the back of the chair, using the last of the strength in my legs to cum in his face and burn my scent into his facial pores. I couldn’t control what he did away from me but damn it, I would have a say in how shit went down on this day.
“Deacon Desmond, are you ready? The morning service has started.” The male voice boomed, the rattle of the handle and knock at the locked door pushed my orgasm over the edge. My head thrown back in reckless abandon, trembling legs vise-gripped around his head, liquid Scent eau de Nadia broke through like my pussy was a New Orleans levee.
“I’ll be just a minute…” Des was stuttering. I was steady milking his tongue with my pussy muscles. In and out. Up and down. Harder and softer. Harder and harder. His struggles to pull free intensified my orgasm and another levee broke.
“I’m not done, Des,” I whispered. “Make them wait.” My legs burned in secret delight. I squeezed harder. I came harder.
“Nadia, the congregation…” Des was whispering. I tuned him out. I thought my femurs would snap, literally break to the shape of his head and yet, I couldn’t stop. I squeezed harder. And released everything I had.
Silence from behind the locked door. Struggling for breath, Des wheezed, coughed, moaned and swallowed my cum.
Oh well. I was done. All Hell could break loose now.
“Desmond, you open this door right now!” A female voice now. It was the Venezuelan tribe keeper at the door. I could tell it was her by the nasally, I-don’t-put-dick-in-my-mouth whine. It was the same voice on the telephone when I called their house to fuck with her.
“Nadia, I got to get out of here. I have to wash, to freshen up before I walk out there.” Des struggled to his feet and suddenly looked older than his 39 years. His face was shiny with perspiration and slick with pussy juice. His skin was glistening what he couldn’t or didn’t swallow. His neck probably hurt, too.
“You don’t have time to wash, Des. You’ve got to get out there. They’re waiting for you.” I reached up to stroke his face. “Take me with you.”
“Nadia, are you crazy? I have to meet with the congregation. I have to shake hands, hold hands, pray with people.” His pale face deepened with color as he wiped his slick hands on his robes. “I can’t go out there like this.”
“Take me with you, Des.” I repeated. “I can’t go out there and stand with you as your wife, your woman. I can’t hold my head up in society with the man I love. I can’t proudly walk the streets with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with because society frowns upon divorce in the church.” I hung my head low. “I couldn’t take their parents from your children.” I think a tear escaped.
“Nadia. Please sweetheart.” He was weakening. So utterly predictable. “You know I love you. If only things were different with her. Maybe next year, when the kids are a little older.”
I reached up to kiss him, licking his cheeks and goatee.
“Desmond.” The Brazilian tribal hunter was beckoning again. The door handle shook fiercely and the whine took on a hint of concern. “Desmond?”
“Des, you have to go. Promise me you’ll think of me when you dance to the Patron Saints of Fertility and Monogamy.” I wiped a smudge of cream off his eyebrow. “I love you, Desmond. Go to her. Do the right thing.”
I pushed him toward the door. The Columbian tribal dancer was about to bust open the hinges. I watched him slowly turn and walk to the door.
I had to stifle my laughter. It was a damned shame. If he was about to go out that door and into the sanctuary during Sunday morning service smelling like Eau de Toilette de Nadia’s Pussy, I was going to pass out. Oh God, Stacey, where are you when I need you? She was never going to believe this shit.
I circled the pastor’s desk and stood behind the door as he turned the lock and opened it and stood to greet his wife, Maria, the Chilean tribal witch doctor. His hand reached behind the door like he needed strength to go out the door smelling like Perfume de Pussy Nadia. I grabbed his hand for moral support. If he actually pulled this off, I was bottling up a supply of Limited Nadia’s Ass and putting it on the market first thing Monday morning!
“Desmond, what were you doing? Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” That whine, coupled with the nasal effect, had me wanting to spring from behind the door, fists first. “Service has started without you.”
“Please, Maria, don’t start. I was praying.”