His Baby: A Babycrazy Romance

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His Baby: A Babycrazy Romance Page 36

by Cassandra Dee


  The peach was out.

  That beautiful butt, twin cheeks like moons, beckoning to me.

  And with another slow movement, I pulled her back even more on the stool before plucking that g-string out of her ass and moving it to the right.

  Oh shit.

  Fuck me.

  Because this was perfect.

  Joanie’s bottom hung over the edge of the stool, creamy and inviting. Again, from the front, she looked normal, chatting away with this Howard dude. But from the back, she was one hundred percent nude and full.

  That brown star beckoned, winking between her cheeks.

  Would she be able to?

  Would she be able to take cock up her butt in a crowded bar? While making conversation with a stranger?

  The brunette shot a panicked look at me over her shoulder before smiling again at the intruder.

  “Yes, Howard,” she murmured unsteadily. “Yes, I hear you.”

  I groaned, dick so stiff. Because with those words, she’d wiggled that ass a bit, sliding backwards so that her cheeks parted a smidge. Aw fuck yeah. That brown hole was on display now, baiting, winking and blinking flirtatiously.

  But what the fuck, we didn’t have any lube. So I used the only thing on hand. Reaching beneath her bottom, I stroked what I could of her pussy, the soft folds moist and wet. And as if on cue, the girl gushed into my palm, flooding me precious nectar.

  “Perfect,” I rumbled so that only she could hear. “You’re perfect, sweetheart.”

  And with that, the moisture was rubbed into her hole, Joanie struggling to hold still as I stroked her anus.

  “Calm, calm,” came my voice, sotto voce. “Calm.”

  Because shit, I had my cock out now, and if the girl saw this, she’d run screaming. Sure, I was big. I’ve always been big. But there’s big and there’s monstrous, and right now I was monstrous. Veins ran along the top and bottom of my shaft, pulsing with need. My glans gleamed purple, the shaft already coated with hot streaks of pre-cum.

  “Here goes baby,” I rumbled into her ear, breath blowing on that sweet cheek. “Here goes, right here, right now.”

  Because my head was pressing against that tight anus. Oh yeah, this was going down, anal sex in a crowded bar. Gripping her hips, I shifted that bottom a little, getting a better angle.

  And then it happened. Her rectum popped open and my shaft slid in a little. Fuck fuck fuck! Joanie was so tight, and the girl jolted a bit as my cock entered her ass.

  “I’m sorry Harold?” she gasped a little, leaning forwards slightly to improve my angle. “What did you say again?”

  Aw shit, my dick slid in a couple more inches then, hot and tight into that dry, arid rectum. Maintaining a neutral look on my face, I shot a quick glance at Harold.

  Because the poor loser was practically drooling, he was so excited to have a beautiful girl listening to his conversation. Not just listening, but replying too. Too bad he didn’t realize that she was getting buttfucked at the moment, my cock already halfway up her bottom.

  But he kept blabbering on and on about this and that, his two cats if I wasn’t mistaken. I have no idea. I was there but not there, every cell of my being focused on the sight of my huge fuckpole stuck halfway inside that beautiful rump.

  “I’m sorry Harold?” Joanie said breathily again. “Oh, ummm!” she cried out.

  Because I’d just pushed it in deep. That’s right, I slid ten inches of male power into her rectum and those walls squeezed me tight now, pulsing and clamping.

  “Oh ummm!” Joanie cried out again, breasts heaving, the color high in her cheeks.

  But it was too dark to tell. Not unless you knew what was going on. So Harold prattled on cluelessly about his two cats Mittens and Kittens. What the hell? What guy names his cats Mittens and Kittens? What alpha male has cats at all?

  But neither my girl nor I were really listening. Instead, we were both focused on where our bodies met, where my pole had begun a deep slide into her anal passage.

  “Oh!” she cried out again breathily. “Oh oh!”

  Meanwhile, I couldn’t keep completely silent either.

  “Fuck,” was my low growl. “Fuck you feel good.”

  Because this was so wrong. We were in the back of a darkened bar having anal sex. Yeah, my girl was sitting on a bar stool, chitchatting away with a stranger as I buttfucked her from behind, letting my pole slide in and out of her anus. It was fucking unbelievable.

  “Oh!” she cried out again, eyes rolling up so that the whites showed. “I’m sorry Harold, what did you say?”

  And it went on like that for a couple minutes. The girl squirming and squealing a bit, never so obvious as to raise any alarms. Me, hammering away from behind, trying to look nonchalant as my cock worked, coated in ass sweat and pre-cum. The situation was fucking unreal.

  But Joanie’s small. She’s real small, even after taking six guys in her bottom. Because after a few minutes, the sperm began boiling in my balls and I grabbed her hips, fingers pressing into that soft flesh.

  “Fuck,” I cursed softly into her ear. “Fuck fuck!”

  And that was it. Sperm jetted from my cockpole, blasting that sweet bottom with lash after lash of hot jism.

  “Fuck!” I swore again.

  Meanwhile, Joanie gave it up too. Her eyes went real wide for a moment, expression surprised, before the tidal wave crashed.

  “Oh!” she shrieked slightly. “Harold,” she panted. “What was that?”

  Hearing his name on her lips during an orgasm fucking sucked. It rubbed me the wrong way for sure. But there are some things you have to do because it kept the loser occupied, a dog responding to Pavlov’s bell.

  “So then I said this,” he prattled away, picking at a pimple on his chin. “And my mom said that,” he whined.

  Man, this guy was enough to stop an orgasm in its tracks, he was such a turn-off. But it was too late. We were beyond the point of no return and my dick jerked furiously, pumping reams of male semen into Joanie’s butt. The female milked me in turn, spasms rippling through her cunt and ass, squeezing me tight as jizz dripped between our bodies.

  Because there was a lot. I’m a guy who can pump liters on an average day, but this time it was gallons. Blast after blast hit the girl, spraying her rectum as her bottom clenched and clamped around me.

  But enough is enough. Because we were getting a couple weird stares now what with the tiny gyrations and small, helpless gasps. So maintaining a neutral expression, I pulled my cock slowly from her asshole, wet length still glistening and hard. Shit, it looked so good.

  But what we didn’t count on was the massive creampie. Because there’d been so much semen that the moment I was out, a sharp splat sounded on the floor. Fuck fuck fuck! It was like a mini-waterfall, a huge gush of white seed that dropped from her ass to splatter on the wooden planks.

  And unfortunately, Harold jerked awake then.

  “What is that?” he asked, staring at the floor beneath Joanie’s bar stool. “What the fuck is that?”

  It was only too obvious, the jizz bubbly and white, still steaming from her rectum.

  Joanie stammered.

  “It’s, it’s …,” she said, cheeks fire engine red.

  But I’d had enough of this. It was time to go.

  So passing one big hand over her anus, I caught the rest of the jism in my palm before yanking her sweatpants back up.

  “Come on sweetheart,” I rumbled, taking the brunette’s hand. “I already settled the bill, it’s time to go and do more sightseeing.”

  And with that, we swept out of the bar. So what if a couple people stared mystified at the wet spot on the floor? So what if there were some whispered looks as Joanie passed, a small splotch of dampness on her bottom?

  I didn’t care.

  I’d just had anal sex with my girl in public, pounding her as she talked to another guy.

  Nick 1. Harold 0.

  No strike that.

  Nick ten. Harold negative ten.
Joanie twenty.

  Because what girl would let me do this? What girl would go out in NYC wearing loose sweats, only to let me fuck her anus as we sat in a bar? Only a sweet butt slut … and that luscious butt slut’s name was Joanie MacAllister, our perfect girl.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Andrew

  Oh shit. I’m gonna kill that motherfucker. And if I don’t kill him, then Aaron’s gonna finish the job.

  Because what the fuck? Joanie was supposed to be on a flight to Atlanta yesterday to meet us. It was our turn with the pretty brunette. It was our turn to enjoy her charms, to take turns stroking those beautiful curves.

  But she didn’t show.

  The plane flew down, sure, but it was empty.

  We were fucking livid.

  “What the hell?” my brother raged, storming about like an angry bull. “What the hell?”

  “You tell me,” I rasped. “Nick and Charlie brought her to New York yesterday. She’s supposed to be here today.”

  We cornered the pilot, a spindly, pasty-looking guy.

  “Where’s the girl?” I demanded. “Where’s your passenger? How the fuck did you take off without a passenger?”

  But the pilot’s hands shook, unfolding a raggedy manifest.

  “There are no passengers,” he stammered, showing us the piece of paper. “No passengers and no crew either. I thought it was weird, but the order came from Mr. North himself.”

  That explained it.

  That fucker Nick had done it. Charlie was probably back in Chicago already with no idea what had happened.

  Because Nick North is an asshole. Dude thinks he’s god because he’s from New York. He thinks the world revolves around him, but this isn’t how you play when dealing with other billionaires.

  Try again, cocksucker.

  You’re gonna regret it.

  Because we’re here now.

  As soon as my brother and I realized Joanie was missing, we hopped the plane. That’s right. Tom’s not the only one with a pilot’s license, so we commandeered the G6 and flew straight to JFK.

  This place sucks if you ask me.

  Crowded.

  Polluted.

  People everywhere, nothing like the gracious spread of Atlanta.

  But different strokes for different folks, and the city wasn’t what we were here to see.

  We were here to find our lost girl.

  What belonged to us.

  Taking our share, fair and square.

  So like criminals, Aaron and I lurked outside Nick’s door. It was lame. We’d managed to stroll into his building and come up the elevator, but he wasn’t home. Banging and even kicking the door did no good. It was solid oak with a dead bolt, resisting our frenzied attempts to break in.

  Yeah, my bro and I are ruthless.

  Who cares if there was a camera silently capturing every move?

  I swung around and gave it the finger for good measure.

  Because our female was missing, and we were here to get her back.

  Fuck this.

  But Nick and Joanie didn’t show. Nine p.m. passed, then ten. And just when we were about to head out, the elevator dinged, a low male voice mixing with tinkling female laughter.

  Sure enough, the doors swung open, and out stepped that motherfucker with Joanie on his arm. What the hell? Why was she wearing gray sweats, her face flushed and smiling while carrying a huge box of Candy? What was this? Howdy-Doody gone wrong?

  I growled, hackles rising.

  My bro did the same, two enormous sentinels baring their teeth at Nick North.

  Because what the fuck?

  There clearly hadn’t been an emergency. Nick had been squiring Joanie about all day, taking her to see the sights.

  And unbelievably, the alpha pretended like nothing was wrong.

  “Whoa!” he drawled, both hands up palms out. “What’s going on? What’s up mad dogs?”

  Loser.

  “Where the hell have you been?” I rasped.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” hissed Aaron.

  But Nick played it cool.

  “Take it easy,” he drawled. “It’s not every day that you come home to find twins slavering like pit bulls at your door. What the hell?”

  But it only made us angrier.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I spat. “Joanie’s supposed to be in Atlanta right now.”

  “It’s on her flight schedule,” hissed Aaron once more, blue eyes slicing into Nick’s frame. “She doesn’t deviate from that.”

  But again, Nick’s a New Yorker and thinks the entire world revolves around him.

  “So what?” he tossed off like it was no big deal. “Flight schedule, flight smedule. Joanie and I decided to take a tour of the Big Apple today. It was fun, wasn’t it sweetheart?” he asked, clasping the curvy girl close to his side. “She’s never been here before, and I wanted to show her the sights.”

  The brunette nodded, big brown eyes wide as her chin trembled.

  “Yes, we walked around Manhattan,” she murmured. “I’m sorry Aaron, Andrew,” the girl said softly. “If I’d known it was imperative to come to Atlanta….”

  But I cut her off, not even looking at the female.

  “Not your fault, sweetheart,” was my rasp, murderous gaze still directed at Nick. “We know it wasn’t your doing. It was this fucker here.”

  My brother jumped in as well.

  “Fuck you,” was all Aaron said, big hands closing into fists. “Fuck you.”

  But Nick wouldn’t back down. He continued to play it off like it was no big deal.

  “Joanie’s tired,” he began, arching his brows. “She took all six of us in Tucson, remember? What, you’re not gonna give her some time off?”

  Aaron was on it immediately.

  “She can rest in Atlanta,” he snarled, blue eyes flaring. “Atlanta is better than here.”

  But then I cut in.

  “She hasn’t been resting anyways,” came my bitten off accusation. “You’ve been having a good time.”

  “Of course,” exclaimed Nick. “We’ve been walking around Central Park, visiting Sheep’s Meadow before grabbing a bite to eat at that sports bar in the Empire State Building. What’s it called again sweetheart?”

  Joanie looked like she was about to faint.

  “Heartland Brewery,” she managed, face white, voice trembling like a leaf. “Heartland.”

  “Yeah,” grunted Nick. “Not a moment to sit down, we’ve been seeing the sights like a bunch of tourists.”

  Now this was really getting to me. Because that obviously wasn’t the truth.

  “You’ve been fucking,” I bit out, eyes hard. “Don’t try to deny it.”

  But the billionaire was really a piece of work. Because he shook his head, blue eyes narrowing.

  “Naw,” he denied. “We’ve been walking about town all day, seeing the sights. Where the hell would we fuck? Central Park? The Empire State? Please asshole.”

  But we know a well-fucked girl when we see one, and my twin rasped then, eyes blazing.

  “Take it off,” he said to the female. “Take it off and show us.”

  “What?” Joanie cried, cheeks flushing. “What do you mean?”

  “Take off your sweat pants honey. I have no idea why the fuck this fucker didn’t get you better clothes but get naked, baby, and let us see. That’ll tell us whether you were fucked or not.”

  For sure, she had been. It was clear as day what with her glowing skin and sparkling eyes.

  But now, that bright-eyed look was gone. Instead, Joanie was paralyzed with shock.

  “Wh-what?” she stammered. “Here?”

  Nick jerked his head.

  “Into the apartment,” he rasped. “There are cameras in the hallway.”

  And we filed in, three massive, hulking forms, one sweet female between us.

  But there was a point to be made.

  “Get naked,” Aaron commanded Joanie again. “Get naked and let us see.


  Nick tried to intervene once more.

  “Yo, you guys are overreacting. Seriously, get some perspective. Joanie and I went around Central Park, seeing the sights. Calm down assholes.”

  And that did it. I was so fucking tired of his bullshit. We were on our time right now. Joanie was supposed to be in Atlanta at this very moment, and instead we were arguing like a bunch of toddlers.

  So I did it.

  I reached over and yanked those sweatpants down her legs.

  The cotton was soft and plush, dropping immediately to pool around her ankles.

  My twin stepped in then. Eyes flaring, he reached one big hand over and ripped that g-string right off her body, so that Joanie’s puss was bare, the pink folds swollen.

  Oh shit, oh shit.

  She was so beautiful.

  And she’d been fucked, there was no doubt of it. Semen caked her thighs, some of it still moist, the flesh gleaming under the lights.

 

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