A Love Story 2 Read online

  He slid it in.

  “Ughhhhhh!!”

  Re-entry into society couldn't be complete without his grand entrance. His thickness swallowed up space galore. His member was strong and thick, his dick long and powerful. His torso trained from doing sit-ups. His mind was not on sex, but on getting paid. And to do so... he had to lay it down like a coffee mug.

  He re-entered society again. “Ughhhhhh! Shit boy, whoaaaaa! Shitttt!”

  He knew he should have been a porn star. He knew he should have been ashamed of himself. He knew he should have had on a condom. But he also knew what the fuck he was doing. He was brilliant with his craft! A complete package, which no woman could resist trying to unwrap.

  And unwrapped, he went back in. His heavy weighted penis causing her interior all sorts of problems. He was stretching her vagina as he slid in, pushing her skin apart with his huge mass. Long enough to hit rock bottom, his dick was so thick that he had to pull it out to let her juices flow correctly.

  His penis was a plug, and there was no room for anything else to exist in her canal except him and his warmth.

  “Ughhhhh!Ughhhh! Ughhhh! Boy, who the fuck sent you to me! Godddd!”

  He felt when her vagina collapsed in defeat. Her relaxation gave him every notification that he needed in order to go to work. He hadn't had a woman in 5 years, and on that night, he was going to catch up on at least 2 years of work with this one woman. He felt bad because she wasn't really rich, but he just needed somewhere to stay. She was a woman with a job and a hustle about herself. He could advance later.

  He advanced now. “Ughhhh! Ughhhhh! That dick boy! God! What the fuck! That shit is ughhhh!”

  Her body started shaking, so he stopped.

  “Nooooo, pleaseee don't stop!! Please!”

  He stayed in place, strong as a statue and twice as hard. He listened to her plead and didn't make a move. He smirked as he listened to her moans decorated by her begging and asking for more.

  “Pleaseee! Pleeeassee! Give itttt”

  He stroked once more and watched as her body surged with electricity. She was coming off of one stroke with plenty more to go. His patience relaxed him while her impatience was the death of her. She came. “Ugghhhhhh! Ughhhh! Goddddd!”

  He admired her orgasm. It was a piece of work that he had constructed carefully and thoughtfully. In the middle of it, his powerful dick slid into her again.

  Again.Again.Again. And he paused.

  Again. Again. Again. Again. He paused and stared at her face. He saw her drooling into the driver's seat, her bottom drooling onto his penis, her cream fighting against his thickness… and winning.

  He spread her legs and shifted his weight to the center of his body. This allowed him to make more controlled, refined and detailed... strokes.

  “Ughhhh! Damnnnn! Boy what the fuck is your nammmeeee?”

  He ignored her and slid, pressed and pushed gently, but powerfully through her love.

  His penis was wreaking all kinds of havoc on her G-Spot. His sexual swagger was laying claim to her body. Her pussy was his. He didn't give a fuck what cosmetic issues she was having with her face. Her head rag mattered not. Her lack of lip chap didn't change a muthafuckin’ thing! Her pussy still got wet, and it was easy to seize.

  That's why I fuckin love my self! Jamal thought as he pumped into her on auto-pilot. He felt the sensations from her vagina, but he was such a professional, that him busting was out of the question. He thought back to when he was describing his self control to the other inmates and they were laughing at him. They couldn't believe that a man could actually tune out entire sex sessions, remain hard and bring the woman to her knees in disbelief.

  He got his Chris Brown on. Look at me now!

  His strokes were ignorant, but brilliant. They were powerful enough to represent the USA; yet the war was not over.

  She came again.

  Her next release was even more powerful than her previous one.

  Her body became a sequel, her essence the number one best seller.

  Jamal was in the end zone. But he wasn't scoring a touchdown, he was celebrating. In his opinion, the points had already been made. He had already scored, and his championship ring was on the way. His winning drive was penetrating her body like an aspirin. His offering was magical. It was like a team of orgasmic deliverers; an army of pleasure donors, but without the group support.

  He pulled out of her and sat down. His breathing was calm, hers erratic and confused. His stamina iron solid from the cardio workouts he'd endured in prison. Her body was an inmate in his system. His body was the judge, his equipment the gavel. She laid there in confusion... begging to be resentenced.

  Her body was willing to do life for Jamal. The shock on her face lit up the area around them. He could see fulfillment, outlined by confusion and amazement. Although he was no artist, he knew exactly how to sketch an erotic scene and draw mind-numbing conclusions.

  She was hooked.

  She had never had a man that looked like him, do what he had just done to her. She'd only been a depository for unwanted sperm. She'd only been a late-night creep, a booty call, a lady that a man was ashamed to be with in public.

  He knew all too well how to temporarily eliminate her low self-esteem. He understood perfectly how to dig his hooks deeper into her soul. He knew it wasn't in her beauty, but always in her duty. He had always known this and had always respected and expected to find himself in similar circumstances; and had always known how to respond to it.

  “Boy... damn... I don't want to offend you or anything, but... shit...”

  Jamal looked at her and shook his head. “Look Mami... The only way you could offend me is if you told me you were taking me back to prison. Be candid with me. Be brutally honest, it's the only thing I've come to respect in life. Honesty.

  Her eyes searched his for sincerity, and found it on the surface at first glance. His eyelids blinked it away and in one motion, replaced it with a new coat of sincerity that silently said trust me. She thought about how she had never done anything like this in her life, yet she marveled at how life had taken her to this moment. It was a thing of beautiful amazement. She knew she didn't look good, nor did she have anything to offer this fine specimen of a man besides a bed and a home cooked meal. Fuck, she thought, I'll just have to be honest.

  “Can I take you home with me?”

  Jamal smiled at her as he slid his jogging pants back on. His smile widened as he watched her replace her clothing as well. He was amused at how he was able to take advantage of women so easily, even after being gone for so long. His psychological technique started with the physical; but he only penetrated deep enough into her physical being to allow the spiritual root to establish itself. From there, he spread the tree of trickery and manipulation from the inside of her soul to the splinter of her pores. He was on beast mode, simple and plain.

  The lady was getting nervous, thinking that maybe she had said the wrong thing. She should have known not to ask such a desperate question, should have known not to sound so pitiful and helpless to such a powerful man... but she couldn't help it. The only thing she was able to help was her personal wants, and she knew that the battery operated powerhouse that she had at home didn't have a pulse, and it couldn't lock her arms behind her back and nail her like he had done in the car.

  She had been penetrated before, but she had not been nailed. The nail had her stuck in place completely, and unable to move on from it. The nail is what she would brag about to her friends, but no way could she allow them to experience the nail. And if he was out nailing cab drivers to their seats, then she needed to keep her hammer with her by all means- desperate or not, she didn't give a fuck.

  “Pleeeease allow me to take you home with me.”

  He grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes, still smirking. “First things first baby... My name is Jamal.”

  She wrapped her arms around him in joy. “My name is Shakira.”

  Chapter 4


  Lisa Lee grabbed her briefcase and exited the building. She'd had a long day at the station and all she wanted to do was go home to her man-child and play. Tony was a 23 year old firefighter who she'd met while covering a live rescue. Someone had fallen asleep while cooking and their apartment caught on fire.The fire spread through the entire complex. Police and firefighters were heavy on the scene, and all Lisa could think of at the time was how those handsome service men would look minus the uniforms.

  She was like an ant inside a bag of sugar that day; wanting it all but only able to handle one at a time. Tony was her one.

  Her phone vibrated again.When she saw that it wasn't Tony calling, she was irritated once more. The same number had been calling her all day, and if that person wasn't catching the hint by now, then something was obviously wrong with them. She tapped the ignore button on her phone and continued to walk to her Benz truck.

  She had to use the restroom. The closer she got to her vehicle, the stronger was her urge for release. Finally unable to hold it any longer, she turned to go to the ladies room when she bumped into someone wearing a hoodie. The collision made her drop her briefcase and her keys. The person who bumped into her bent down immediately to try to help her out.

  Angry, she reached out and tried to snatch her briefcase away from the person, but they wouldn't release it. She tugged again to no avail.

  “Let go of my fuckin briefcase!”

  The hoodie dropped off of the person's head and Mya stood there staring at her.

  “Lisa, I've been calling you all got damn day! Why won't you answer the phone?”

  Lisa was startled at the situation. Mya had never shown up on her job before, and she had never seen Mya looking as stressed out as she did then. “What's wrong with you Mya?”

  Her eyes were red and her blood pressure was high. Mya quickly reached down and grabbed her shades out of her purse and placed them over her eyes. Her shades shielded her from sunlight and the various elements of mother nature, but did nothing to conceal human nature. Her stress displayed on her face even through the shades.

  “Lisa. I need your help. Please!”

  Lisa looked around the parking lot quickly, in an attempt to see if Mya was trying to set her up. Satisfied, she tried to calm down and find out her dilemma.

  “Mya, I can't help you if you don't let me know what the problem is. Talk to me.”

  “Uhmm…” Mya paused and threw her hoodie back over her head before she finished her statement. “Lisa... I'm going to need you to take Lil Richie for a while!”

  Lisa Lee felt her heart drop to the floor. There was no way Mya was coming at her after all these years and asking her to keep Lil Richie. That would definitely cramp her style and she wasn't having that. What would Tony think? She thought as she stared at Mya like she was crazy.

  “What the fuck! What the hell possessed you to even ask me some shit like that Mya? What the-”

  “Jamal is out of prison! I took your advice and I left him in there to rot. I'm afraid. I was going to leave the state Lisa. And I felt like-”

  “Bitch you've been left the state! What the hell is the difference now?! You've been leaving the state and taking Lil Richie with you, so how the hell could you just change your whole got damn style just because some jailbird got out of prison?”

  Mya stared wide-eyed at Lisa Lee. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. “For one, Lil Richie is your child! I thought by now you'd want to get to know him some... And for two, if I leave Lil Richie with you, then Jamal will have no reason to try to hunt me down. If he gets around me... I'm afraid he'll try to kill me out of anger. Please Lisa, take Lil Richie for a while until things simmer down.”

  Lisa Lee glanced at her and shook her head. She unlocked the door to her Benz truck and got into the driver's seat. She rolled the window down and slammed the door. She stared into Mya's eyes while she spoke.

  “Bitch, I'ma tell you like this... You adopted that nothing ass child. He's the son of a nothing ass man, the spitting image of what I do not desire in my life. And here you are, all of these years later telling me that you don't desire it in your life! Bitch join the party. Let me explain something to you Mya, in case you didn't understand. I'm just like you... I'm rich! But the difference between me and you is that I didn't allow a broke ass nigga to trick me. You're the one that got tricked in this situation. Fuck no! I will not take that child. Bitch kick rocks!”

  Mya stood there dumbfounded as she watched Lisa Lee roll her window up and back the truck out of the parking space. A surge of pain started in the palms of her feet and rested itself on the palm of her hand. The venom that Lisa Lee had spewed was dangerous, acidic, painful- poison. It had been quite a while since she had heard such painful words come out of a person's heart. She couldn't believe it.

  She stood in the same place long after Lisa Lee left. She was confused. Lisa Lee was talking about Lil Richie as if it wasn't even her child. It was like she wasn't even aware that she'd birthed him. She could never understand how a person could take such a strong stance against her own flesh and blood. She ran back over to her Audi and left the location before the paparazzi found out that she was out and about.

  Chapter 5

  Shakira treated Jamal like a pot of living gold. She fed him and showed him off to her friends and family, but attempted to lock him away when she left for work. Her home wasn't extravagant on her taxi driver salary, but she attempted to do everything within her power to make it appealing to Jamal. She cooked like a mad woman, and cleaned like a mad janitor. She worked in perpetual overdrive in an attempt to keep Jamal to herself.

  But there were problems.

  Shakira had an older sister Iesha who often came to visit and she always voiced her negative opinion about Shakira having an ex-convict living with her. Iesha owned a local radio station and she was accustomed to seeing men try to run game in order to get what they wanted.Many rappers had tried to game her in order to get radio play. It was nothing to her. She recognized it and ignored it. For Jamal, Iesha was his only issue. It was clear that they didn’t like each other.

  Then…every time he tried to leave the house, Shakira argued with him. She was terrified that he would leave her for good. Every time another female was in the area, she attempted to distract him in hopes that he wouldn't even look in her direction. Jamal was eating it up without chewing.

  He knew that she was becoming and more jealous by the day, and he needed her that way in order to pull off his plans.

  He pulled off her pants.

  “Jamalllll... not now baby... I have to go to workkkk....”

  He ignored her and pulled her panties and pants down simultaneously in one fluid motion. Her income had decreased somewhat since she first met Jamal, and it was mainly because she was always trying to hurry home instead of applying her normal work ethic. There were times when she'd turned down $80 taxi trips just because she didn't feel like being that far away from Jamal. She knew the first time it happened, that it was a problem.

  “Ummm.... shit boy...”

  His warm lips wrapped snugly around her clit with an expert's grace and a gentle gentleman's pressure. They were like warm, moist pillows against her sex, allowing her lily to close its eyes and come like it has never came before. Not even in its wildest of dreams.

  His tongue was the satin finish. Each time it scrolled across her clit, it felt like she was being born again. Every time his tongue lifted off of her, she felt as if she'd died. On these occasions, being re-birthed was her absolute favorite thing to do.

  He gave head like a man, but with a woman's awareness. He read her body the way a mirror could not, and a doctor wouldn't dare. His seductive literacy studied her core and seemed to come from the deepest crevice of love and passion. But Jamal knew that it really only came from his desire for financial gain.

  She tried to close her legs; to remove him from her pressure point, but he wouldn't allow it. He felt that since she had allowed him to start the process, that there co
uld be no stopping. No matter how many times her orgasm raced through her soul, he would continue. She was on one.

  On two…on three.

  “Jammaallllllll... Uhmmmmmm... Fuckkkkk! Boy what the fuckkkkk! What the fuckkkkkkk! What the fuckkkkk are you doinnggggg to meeee!”

  Jamal glanced into her eyes and saw confusion, pleasure, shock, panic, wonder, and amazement. It didn't surprise him. It was the look that he was accustomed to seeing whenever his head visited the valley at the base of a woman’s thighs. His tongue went in rapid O's. Swift circles, soft but firm. It was as if someone had recorded the second hand on a clock and fast forwarded it. His tongue rolled around her clitoris in smooth detail. He owned the pussy whenever he was around it. He claimed it, took control and demanded that it be his. And it was.