by Amarie Avant
“What sort…” I shake my head to help ease the burn. “Shit, no more. Now, what crazy stuff are you considering?”
“The kinda shit that requires me to get you good and drunk.” We chuckle as he pours more in my mouth, this time, I don’t swallow. He places his mouth over mines and drinks.
“So, where you headed?” I inquire, feeling my reaction time fade by the second. Damn, I only had about a shot and a half.
He grunts. “You want me in that tight, wet pussy, don’t you?”
My head bobs up and down slowly. “Yessss…”
“I wanna,” he begins, voice slow, deliberate, and powerful, “get in that ass.” Vassili takes the bottle to the head, and then he hands it over. “You ready for me to get in that ass, girl?”
“Nope.” I sip at the bottle. This shit feels like liquid fire, slamming all the way down, inside my chest. Vassili tips the bottom of it, and I end up guzzling down more than I anticipated.
“Take off your clothes.”
I press on my palms, intending to jump down, but the ground sways slowly. I chuckle.
“Nyet, don’t get down, Zar,” he tells me, while brushing my lips with a kiss. Vassili places my hands over my blouse. I slowly start undoing the buttons. “Damn, girl, you’ll be forever.” He grips the silk material and pulls, buttons go popping everywhere.
Did he just? Cognition slowly trickles in as I glance around at the buttons scattered across the marble flooring. “So it’s like that? This is my favorite shirt!”
Vassili unbuckles my pants, and gathers my panties with it, sliding them together down my hips. My ass is now on the cold marble slab. He’s still in his army fatigues.
“Take yours off, too,” I pout.
“In due time.” He grabs the bottle, offering me more. I turn my head and he asks, “What happened to you getting drunk?”
“Boy, I am good and drunk!” I slur.
He pours the vodka along my chest. “One day I’m going to cum all over your tits and make you lick them off.”
“You can now.”
“Nah, I’ve got other things up my sleeve.”
I chuckle, and then realize the extent to his response. “You want me to be a bad girl…” I grip the chocolate waves of his mohawk as Vassili licks the vodka from one of my tits. It takes ages for me to realize that my fingers won’t be gripping the marble countertop. As he applies pressure to one of my nipples, I moan. My hands press backward, as I lean back for him. I pour more vodka onto my body, the cool liquid rushes over my breast, into my belly button, drenches down to my pussy, mingling with my own wetness.
As I groan with delight, Vassili licks up every trail the vodka makes.
“Can you stand?” he asks.
Dang it, but I giggle, again. Vassili holds out a hand, I take it, and move at a snail’s pace until my left foot touches the ground and then my right.
“Turn around,” he orders. “Hands against the counter.”
Feeling my body mellow even more, I am quick to do his bidding. My hands go to the marble ledge. Before I can lean back, wet liquid shoots down my lower back and between my ass cheeks.
“Mmmm,” I purr. Vassili bends over and licks me down below. His tongue prods against my asshole. “Shit, that feels good,” I murmur. I rock my hips back as he eats my ass out. Then he slaps the inside of my thigh, making my stance wider. His tongue nudges my pussy as his fingers work their way into my ass. Again, my ass is begging for his penetration. I work my hips until more of his fingers slip into my hole.
“Oh, so you want me in this ass?” The drum of his voice is delectable.
“Yeah, Vassili,” I cry out. “Keep fucking my ass.”
“I’m not fucking you yet.” He removes his finger, and then his tongue slides up my pussy to my asshole before he gets up. Vassili stands right behind me. The sound of him taking his belt off is titillating to my ears.
“Fuck me, baby,” I tell him.
He pushes his pants off with the heel of his barefoot, kicks them away. His belt is still in his hand. Vassili swats my ass with it. Pain shoots through me, and I’m so ready for him to replace it with a pain that I have never felt before. His cock.
Vassili enters my pussy from behind. My mind starts to catch up, it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to fuck my ass. Screw me with his big, white cock. “Girl, you are fucking wet for me,” He marvels. “You should see my cock.”
“Can I taste it?”
“Nah, I have other things for you to do.”
I whimper at his refusal. Vassili continues to screw me, my back arching perfectly as he grips my ponytail. “Keep wetting my cock with that thick, sweet pussy, girl. You got that pussy wetter than the ocean for me.”
I force my hips back, meeting him thrust for thrust. Until he pulls out. His cock slides up my labia and to my ass. I gyrate, gliding his hardness across my tiny hole. “Vassili…don’t stop.”
His cock nestles against my butt.
“Girl, you should see how beautiful your ass is,” he tells me, smacking a cheek, before he rubs the pain away. “Now, drink that vodka.”
I reach over, grab it, and guzzle it down. Then my hands grip the ledge as he slowly works that glorious cockhead into my ass. “Shhhhhit, Vassili,” I growl. It hurts so good, I love it.
Vassili
Her asshole is puckered and tight. I’ve fit four of my fingers into that tiny little hole before, and loved how her pussy came on my cock. That’s what I’ll do now. My cock moves back down from her ass. I bang inside of her wetness again and again. Zariah works her ass back against me, slamming my cock till it sinks deeper and deeper into her pussy. My balls clap against her sweetness. Jaw ridged, I fight not to explode inside of her miracle pussy.
I lean back on my calves. Cock at attention. Zariah turns her head just as I slam the belt down on her hip.
“Fuck, Vassili!” She glares.
Again, the belt swats along the same spot. Her eyes spark with fire, this is a pain she just has to take. Once more, the pinnacle of my manhood brushes against the tight entrance of her ass. It’s so fucking beautiful, my cream-colored cock, nestled between her dark chocolate globes. I can see cum squirting from her pussy and down her legs. Damn, I want to lap it up like a dog. But, now is not the time. I lean against my calves once more. Causing the head of my dick to slither across her swollen clit.
“Shit!” Zariah screams. “Fuck me, baby. You can screw me. You can fuck my ass,” she growls. “Just fuck me.”
My lips spread into a smile. Her excitement is contagious. Zariah wriggles her ass back against me.
“Hold still.” I grab a bottle of lubrication from the table that she hadn’t noticed me pull from my pocket, earlier, while sucking on the vodka bottle. Like hell am I going in my wife’s ass without any extra protection. She isn’t one of the bitches that I used to fuck with, and despite her eagerness, there’s an art to stretching her tight hole.
“Vassili,” she whimpers.
While opening the bottle, I give her pussy another jolt. My thumb’s loving the tightness of her asshole now. I work against the firmness of the inside ring of her ass, my cock is a piston in her ultra-wet valley. She bucks like the most gorgeous Arabian horse and rides out another orgasm. An ocean of her sweetness rushes along my cock as Zariah comes harder. My toes tuck underneath and clench, the tension abets me in my desire not to explode inside of her because tonight I’m headed into her ass.
She moans and groans and sags something fierce against the marble counter.
Damn, my dick is sloshing inside of her cunt now, and my fingers continue to widen her out while she recovers from that hard orgasm.
“Baby, I want it…” she feigns as my thumb and index finger tweak and stretch her hole.
My cock slides in and out of her channel as I entice her with this response, “Yeah, I know you want this cock in your ass, beautiful. I’ll give you that now.” I slip my cock from her pussy, picking up the lube again. I coat my already soaking pi
ece.
My slick cum-coated cock lodges at the puckering of her butt.
Hands skimming over the side of her hip and up her tiny waist. Now she’s silent, no more begging, but this gorgeous body of hers speaks volumes. She’s ready. She trusts that I’ll fuck her good in the ass and that I’ll do my best to love her without hurting her. The crude mushroom shaped head of my cock kisses ever so softly against her asshole. I slowly push my way in.
“Mmmm, Vassili.”
“Don’t tense up, Zariah. I promise you’ll love this. Just breathe, my beautiful wife.”
The whimpering transforms into a heavy sigh as my cock inches inside and past her tight entrance, for a heavenly fit. I make leeway and then give her time to breath.
“Mmmm, Vassili, I love you…” she breathes the words.
“I love you, more.”
For every inch I take inside of her ass, I caress ever so softly at her lower back. I listen to her body. About three inches of my cock is in her now. She’s too beautiful to force it. I reach beneath her hip to rub softly against that tiny, little bulb if hers. The action of me working her clit, sends her pussy lips to shiver.
I pull out of her ass, this was enough for now, and slide into her pussy. This time, I fuck Zariah until she bucks back, and I cum deep inside her…
***
Monday morning, I stand in the bathroom, after a fresh shower, and grab the waves of my hair. “Time to get rid of you my old friend,” I give a cocky grin, determining to be the image of a pristine ‘white’ boy.
Fuck, this is for Zariah. Nobody in this world can force me to change my image. But for her, I’ll play the part tomorrow. She was worried about me being locked up. I grab the clippers and plug it in, ready to look like a brand-new man… Well new enough.
Come tomorrow, I’ll have a freshly shaven face and a suit covering my tats.
On the 30-inch flat screen TV across from the sink, MMA Sportscaster Alex Brown mentions my name. “The Anaconda Alvarez has decided to pull out of the contract binding himself and Vassili Killer Karo Resnov.”
What the fuck? How did Alvarez pull out of a contract that I had yet to sign? We never did take a trip to the convention center in Atlanta, like I told Zariah we would in order to consider the retail value of fighting him for pennies. I grab the remote and turn up the television.
“This news has come in the midst of Karo’s recent assault of an unarmed man,” Alex says, his face sneered into a judgmental frown. “Karo, if you’re watching, call in. I’m confident your fans are interested as to why you’d beat up an innocent man.”
He begins to bash my name. “Yeah, well fuck you.” I flip the bird to the TV screen, grab the hair at the front of my head and buzz it off. I recall the last time I was interviewed by Alex, that bitch was riding my cock, raving about my latest fight. And I promised him that Juggernaut would fall in less than—what, 8 seconds? I think it was eight seconds. The crowd used to be my bitch. Now to hear from him that neither Alvarez nor Karsoff want to fight me due to my current legal matters? He can suck a diseased cunt!
“Boy are you in there grumbling and griping?” Zariah calls out from bed.
Fuck, I realize I am mumbling.
“Go back to bed, Zar.”
“Humph, I’m glad you are aware that I still have an hour before I need to dress to go into the office. Thanks for turning up the television as well.”
“Then go back to bed.” I buzz off another piece, my brown waves fall into the sink. With a frown, I nod at myself. Wait, need to get rid of the frown as well. Samuel, Zariah and I finished the discussion about how to get myself and Yuri out of the heat. He came through saying he’d have both of our cases seen by a judge who sympathized with domestic violence. The clean look will just solidify that. Yuri isn’t much for tattoos, so basically, it’s just me needing to cover up and fly straight.
“Baby,” Zariah calls out once again, this time her voice seems preoccupied.
“Dah?” I take a warm towel and rub it over my buzzed head.
“C’mere, now,” she orders.
When I enter the bedroom, Zariah is laying there with her cellphone in a horizontal position, listening to some dude whose cussing likens me to a saint instead of a sinner.
“Girl, what are you listening to?” I ask just as I hear my name.
“There’s this short clip of you from the other day...” She smiles as her eyes land on me. “Oh, lawd, what is going on? What happened to my thug?”
I rub a hand over my head, again. “I knew you secretly wanted a square.”
“You aren’t even capable of sounding like one.” Her eyes are full of life as she gestures for me to come closer. I climb into bed on top of her, and Zariah speaks in a tone filled with mock fear. “Can I-can I touch it?”
“You sound scared,” I say just as she laughs, again.
Her lips softly plant onto mine. Her tongue comes out, and she licks before nibbling on my lip. At the sound of more cussing and joking, my eyebrow rises.
“Oops, I had it on repeat. Rodney is funny as hell. When I’m at work and need to de-stress, I’ll click on his Facebook page.” Zariah digs around for the discarded cell phone and I cuddle next to her. “He has this habit of assessing the craziness going on in his world. You made the cut.”
She clicks onto a YouTube video. A black man comes onto a split screen. On the right side of the screen, Rodney is sitting in a chair, and must be streaming from a laptop camera. On the opposite side of the screen is a fuzzy video from the night I beat down Matthew. Whoever took the footage didn’t catch me in the backseat, but the camera starts rolling with Matthew honking his horn.
The honking slams and fades from the screen with extra sound effects. Rodney speaks up, “Man, I mean, really? Does this dude think that some buff personal trainer is going to come out of the gym to save him? I mean, look at his face.” There’s a still-frame close up on Matthew. Rodney can hardly speak for laughing. “His forehead is lodged wayyyy into the back his throat. I don’t know if he was able to drive away, but I’d be damned if I’m going to create a scene after somebody punches the motherfucking breaks off me! Just wait a minute though!”
Rodney laughs so hard that all is visible on his side of the screen is teeth for a second. “Look, really close, somebody tell me if this dude was born with a brick to his face. Man, he’s so ugly I would say my face hurts, but it can’t hurt anywhere near as much as his does. He’s gonna need a lifetime supply of Tylenol for that bullshit.”
The comedian glances at the right side of the screen and says, “Just wait. Y’all, just wait.”
On the opposite side of the screen the freeze frame has ended, and I’m returning to the car. “Karo, seriously? You beat the man into next week. Why come back and serve him with another beat down? And I mean, some-motherfucking-body call Triple A, he beat the breaks of this man. The guy’s name is Overstreet, but I swear he needs to change his name to just Street! Had him blending in with the pavement. Wait, wait, look—”
Rodney pauses as I pick up Matthew from the ground. Somehow the comedian has added sound effects to the fight. Every hit seems to SPLAT, POP or CRUNCH.
I squeeze my arms around Zariah’s midriff. “You listen to this bullshit?”
She stifles another bout of laughter. “It’s funny. Matthew Overstreet deserved it. Wish I was there.”
“Like you’d have been good with me trying to knock his head off?”
“Humph, you did knock his head off! Under the circumstances, I might have run up, kicked him, and ducked out of the way.”
“No need to run, I got you anytime you need to let off steam.”
“Oh, so we should just hit the streets, knocking people’s block off whenever we’re stressed?” She can hardly kiss me for grinning now.
***
Judge Styles is supposed to be a softy, at least Sam told me she would be when he received favor by switching her out with Judge McKinley.
But when I take my seat next to him an
d Zariah, looking fit for a fucking J. Crew suit listing, she starts harping about how I have a higher level of accountability as a fighter.
My voice is tapered, “In my defense—”
“Don’t’ speak,” Samuel says under his breath.
Imaginary horns pop out from her blond hair. Ironically, she’s sitting in front of the great seal of Georgia. Wisdom. Justice. Moderation. My ass.
Styles jumps on me with, “This is my courtroom, Mr. Resnov. It’s my time to shine not yours. I saw the video of you wiping the streets with Mr. Overstreet, and the DA is ready to lock you under the cell for using such tactical strategies on him.”
Fuck, this could be pure comedy. She has that mudak, Rodney, beat with her reference to street. But she continued to carve me a new one. “Mr. Resnov, you are a weapon. Your hands, your feet, your body! Now, Mr. Resnov, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Shit, I would say that I didn’t kick the motherfucker, but do I get to speak. Zariah nudges me in the side.
“Oh,” I begin, fixated on my thick Russian accent. “I would like to say that Mr. Overstreet deserved every single hit—there was no kicking involved, your honor. I didn’t use a takedown, none of that, I just used my hands.” Fuck, this isn’t helping.
“Your Honor,” Zariah speaks up, “may I be allowed to approach the bench?”
“Humph, would that be a waste of my time?” Styles inquires, ice blue gaze still glaring through me. Then she turns her attention to my lawyers. “Billingsley, Washington, I respect you, but I’m baffled at how can you convince me that Mr. Resnov is not a threat to society?”
I try not to grit my teeth as the judge just called Zariah the wrong last name, and if it were my turn to speak, I’d let her ass know that, too!
“Yes, your honor,” Zariah holds up photos. “I believe these photos are relevant to the case.”
Judge Styles gestures toward her bailiff, the beefy fucker eyes me, my ‘good’ boy persona slips for a second as I frown at him. He takes the photos from Zariah and heads to the judge, who gasps at the sight of what she sees. “Ms. Washington, these are some very despicable photos? Please state the name of the person in these photos for the record.”
