The Pleasure Zone(10)

Marcel groaned. “Damn. Sounds like it’s gonna be hot ‘n’ poppin’. But, yo, let’s pause for a moment. Let’s rap a lil’ about your joint, Good Pus—bleep—sy, real quick. Why’d you write a joint like that? And what makes pus—bleep—sy good pus—bleep—sy?”

Nairobia licked her lips. “Well, my darling. Good pus—bleep—sy is what every woman likes to believe she has. But, unfortunately, it’s more than a state of mind. It’s a state of being. Good pus—bleep—sy is a mixture of things. It’s the sound, the taste, the feel all wrapped around the ability and the want to indulge in its partner’s inner-most desires. It’s wet, juicy, tight…built for every stroke, every inch, giving you limitless access. Good pus—bleep—sy pulls you in; it’s not just milking the dic—bleep, it’s gripping and sucking out a man’s soul, it’s emptying out his balls. It’s snatching his breath.

“Good pus—bleep—sy makes a man clutch the sheets and cry out and brings him to his knees. It makes an already unstable man lose what’s left of his mind, having him busting out windows and stalking you. Good pus—bleep—sy, my darling, speaks to the dic—bleep…”

“Goddaaaaayum, baby.” He licked his lips. “Yo, you hear that, Tri-State? She said good snatch speaks to the dingaling. Damn. Tell us what it’s saying, baby, when we’re balls deep in that ish?”

Nairobia slowly opened her legs. Gave Marcel a sneak peek of her smooth, honey-coated cunt. “It’s saying…beat me. Fuc—bleep me. Dic—bleep me down. Make me cum…”

She closed her thighs.

Marcel stared at her. She knew what the fuck she was doing to him. And it had his balls bubbling, his dick rock-hard. “Damn,” he breathed out, then quickly told his listening audience that they were going into a commercial break. He eased back from his microphone as Miguel crooned “Pussy Is Mine” over the air. The producer Nina walked over to them smiling. “Girl, you’re about to cause a riot up in here. The testosterone level in the back is through the roof. It’s crazy right now. I’m loving it.”

Nairobia smiled. “I aim to please, my love.”

Nia blushed. But she couldn’t help herself from sliding her gaze over the slopes of Nairobia’s breasts, her protruding nipples, before catching Nairobia’s eyes staring up at her. Nia’s face flushed shamefully. Nairobia smirked, standing up to give her—and the burning gazes in back of her—another full view of all of her lusciousness. She reached for Nia’s delicate hands and placed them up to her firm, upright breasts.

They were real. Beautiful. And always ready to be fondled.

The audience went wild watching the station’s producer sensually cup Nairobia’s breasts. The act surprised Nia and made her instantly moist. She’d never felt another woman’s breasts before, though she’d had her share of bi-curious fantasies.

Nairobia leaned in to Nia’s ear and whispered, “My hot, silky cunt feels even better.” She winked at the shocked producer, then let her hands go. Another time, another place, she might have been compelled to offer Nia a taste of her nectar. Or maybe, snatch her by her hair and snap her neck back, shoving her hand in between her thighs, then stroking her trembling sex until it clutched and dripped.

Marcel’s wife had once told Nairobia she was the kind of woman who’d capture her heart, if she were to ever fall in love with a woman. Why she thought of that at this very moment, she didn’t know. But what she did know—without a doubt, was, she could turn this little young perky tart inside out. One night in the sheets with her, she’d ruin the poor soul so damn good she’d be up late at night prowling the streets for pussy.

Nairobia almost laughed at the visual. Nia nervously muttered something inaudible before scrambling off. Marcel smiled at Nairobia, his gaze studying her as if he knew her wicked thoughts. He pressed his legs shut. Opened them. Then shut them again.

His dick was beyond hard. It was harder than granite and steel combined.

Without him saying it, without her looking down at it, she knew it was.

Marcel’s dick was always hard.

He loved fucking.

Almost as much as she did.

It took Nia several moments to catch her breath and pull herself together before she finally signaling that they were back on live in five…four…three…two …one…

“Aiight, aiight…what it do, my freaky peeps. If you’re just tuning in to the Tri-State area’s hottest radio station, 93.3 The Heat, you don’t know what you’ve been missing. Tonight we have the sexy Nairobia Jansen with us. And we were briefly discussing her book, Good Pus—bleep—sy. Go out ‘n’ cop ya copy, ASAP.