Country Boy 3

by Blake Karrington

  Without saying another word, Terri raised the Kobe Bryant jersey up and over her head in one motion.

  “This is why,” she said, still standing directly in front of the TV.

  Tim sat motionless, taking in her entire body, all the way down to her ...whoa!!! Stilettos, she was wearing heels.

  “Damn,” he mumbled after gaining control of his senses. Terri seductively walked towards him, stopping directly in front of him. Tim fumbled with the flat screen’s remote until he managed to locate the off button.

  As if in a trance, he simply fell to his knees and buried his face into her smoothly shaven pussy. Terri moaned and raised one of her legs over Tim’s shoulder as he became the aggressor. Just as she thought she would collapse from a tongue twisting orgasm, Tim stopped.

  “No...no…noooo. What are you doing baby?”

  “Relax baby, just relax for a second.” He turned her around, and sat her on the firm sofa.

  “Relax,” he whispered to her again.

  Grabbing the remote again, he pushed play on their home’s surround studio music system. Instantly, Mary J. Blige’s voice filled the room. Tim began singing the words as he fell back into position on his knees.

  Bad boys ain’t no good,

  good guys ain’t no fun.

  Lord knows that I should,

  run off with the right one.

  Tim planted soft kisses on her ankles, while working his way up her calves. Reaching her inner thighs, he deeply inhaled her scent, relishing it before once again teasing her nature with his tongue. Terri responded with a vise like grip around his neck, using her muscular thighs. Her whole body shuddered from Tim’s aggressive tongue.

  “Ba ...Baby what are you doing to me?”

  “Do you want me to stop?” He teased, raising his head a fraction away from her womanhood. Terri grabbed him by the back of his head and pulled him back to her.

  “I will kill you if you stop,” she growled.

  Tim smiled inwardly, as he upped the tempo of his tongue action.

  Damn, if I didn’t know any better. I would swear that my baby’s got biceps in his tongue Terri thought to herself.

  Right now, Tim's ass could star on her favorite TV station, The Discovery Channel! Looking down, Terri tried to spread her shivering legs wider to give her lion better access to his jungle. The sensations quickly overpowered her and she lost control. She had the first of many inevitable orgasms that would claim her before the night was finished.

  Chapter Ten

  “Just in Case”

  Q walked around, completing the final inspection of his and Van’s home. He hoped that it wouldn't be long before Van would be right there beside him. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for her eventual coming home celebration. He walked out on the porch and took in the fresh country air. He loved the smell of fresh cut grass in the morning, but it was interrupted by an odor he knew too well. It was definitely time for him to clean out the dog kennels.

  He went back in and threw on an old pair of Timberland work boots and some jeans. He didn't need a shirt. Q walked over, grabbed a shovel, and went to work. The time with the dogs gave him some much-needed time to think.

  Tee and their last conversation dominated his every thought. He had been really missing her and the time they spent together. He knew that he needed to see her and to see if he was really going to be able to put closure to their relationship. He owed Tee and himself that much. That, mixed with the fact that it had been weeks since he was able to relieve himself, made it a surety that he would visit her today.

  __________

  Tee was just finishing her last client when Q entered the salon. After a quick glance and an even weaker smile, she spoke.

  “Hi Quentel, I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

  Without giving him an opportunity to respond, she turned her attention back to her client who was preparing to leave.

  “Okay Mrs. Williams, be sure to wrap it up.”

  She looked back at him, and took a deep breath. “What brings you by here?

  “I haven't heard from you since the hospital,” Q answered.

  “Well, you know I didn't want to interfere with…” Q walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her small waist.

  “What are you doing Q, and what do you want?”

  “I just wanted to see you. And when are you going to lose this attitude?”

  “I don’t have an attitude,” Tee said, then began halfheartedly trying to pry herself from his grasp, which only made him tighten his grip.

  “Stop it Quentel!”

  “Do you really want me to stop, Tee?” Q asked then began placing soft kisses down the back of her neck.

  “Do you?” He asked again, continuing with the soft kisses.

  “Yes…no…I mean yesssss.”

  He kissed her once more, then started to release her. Tee forced both of his arms back around her.

  “No… no…no… , I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered.

  “Are you sure?” he teased.

  “Don’t play with me Quentel!!!” She warned him, never opening her eyes.

  He moved his hands underneath her bebe stretch shirt, retrieving her firm breast. Tee let out a long gasp as he alternated between each breast, tweaking her dime-sized nipples.

  “Quentel, tha.. tha blinds are open,” she managed to say. Without saying a word, Q effortlessly swept her into his arms. He didn’t stop until they were inside her office with him gently laying her on the office sofa.

  “Where’s that attitude now?” he asked taunting her, while pulling her shirt over her head.

  “I hate you Quentel,” Tee complained. He ignored her, his eyes transfixed on her perky breasts which stood easily at attention, once released from her black Ralph Lauren Black Label bra.

  Q began twirling his wet tongue around the dark lobes of her nipples.

  “I... I need a shower,” Tee mumbled

  “You need a what?”

  “I said I need a shower Quentel. I’ve been working all day, and I’m salty.”

  Q gave her a wicked smile. “You feel good, smell good, and you taste good. There’s nothing wrong with a lil salt.”

  He then engulfed her entire left nipple in his mouth.

  “Quentel!!! Oh God Quentel,” Tee screamed as he walked his tongue down and around her pierced navel. He feasted on her wetness for half an hour, her body falling victim to multiple tornado like orgasms.

  Neglected of her own desires, her body was thirsty, wanting, and radiantly energized. Completely nude now, Q relaxed on the soft sofa as Tee explored every inch of his body with her warm mouth and delicate hands.

  “Aaahhhhhh,” Q groaned as she toyed with the massive head of his shaft.

  “Damn Tee, whatchu trying to do, ma?”

  “Do you want me to stop, Quentel?” she asked, mischievously reversing his tongue game.

  He looked at her face, revealing a frown.

  “What is it Quentel? You taught me everything I know,” she said.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Yes Quentel, you —”.

  Quentel quickly turned her around on the sofa, placing her on her knees, with him standing behind her. He slowly guided his dick inside her opening. Tee immediately began taking in gulps of air as he found his rhythm; slow stroke after slow stroke. He steadily buried himself to the maximum while fighting off the urge to explode.

  Faster now, his movements became more urgent and she welcomed each pounding thrust with tantalizing pleasure. Moments later, both bodies erupted together joining at the souls, reaching the universe at the same instant. They laid there together for quite some time in silence. Both of their minds wondering if they could really end this. Neither spoke their inner contemplations, they figured it would be better to let the other reveal themselves first.

  __________

  Q nervously watched as the doctors proceeded to wake Van. They moved around, seemingly confident of the job they were doing. The en
tire crew stood anxiously waiting just outside the door. Minutes seemed like hours as the doctors continued their work. Finally, one of the doctors called Q over to Van’s bedside. His legs felt like logs in water when he walked over and stood next to the surgeon.

  “She asked for you, Quentel.”

  “I’m here Shawty,” Q said, tears cascading down his face.

  “Welcome... welcome back, ma.”

  “I wasn’t going anywhere without you, Quentel. Didn’t I always promise you that?”

  “We both made that promise, ma.” Q said still crying.

  “Quentel.”

  “Yeah”

  “I thought you said soldiers don’t cry.”

  Q smiled, “I think I’ll make an exception for you this time,” he teased.

  “I’m thirsty.”

  “I’ll get you some water.”

  “I got it,” the doctor cut in.

  “Thanks Doc”.

  “And Quentel,”

  “What is it Van?”

  “I’m horny as hell too.”

  Q looked over at the nurse, hoping she didn’t hear Van’s last statement, but could easily tell by her expression, that she’d heard it loud and clear. He focused his attention back on Van.

  “Okay Van, I hear you. Now get some rest, ma. And Van…”

  “Yes?”

  “Welcome back, Shawty,” he whispered.

  Van smiled, then closed her eyes resting, peacefully. Back at last.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Sworn to Protect”

  Officer Vie sat alone inside her home office. The clock read 2:00 am, its steady tick was the only noise inside the small room. Sipping on a glass of white wine, she glanced down at the many files stacked neatly on top of the desk, and wondered how one man could manage to accumulate so many affidavits, briefs, and investigations, to have never been arrested. The exception was a federal indictment that a lawyer fresh out of law school could have easily dismantled and won an acquittal.

  She then focused her attention on the people whom he allegedly associated himself with. All seemed to have relatively clean criminal records, with the exception of one.

  “Glenn Hill,” she mumbled before taking another sip of the mild flavored Merlot. She read through his extensive criminal background. Numerous assaults, shootings, firearms charges, and a recent acquittal for murder. The file even gave a report of the defendant’s weapon of choice, a Mac-10, one of the most dangerous and deadly weapons to hit the streets in years. It was one of the most recent weapons to grace the underworld of street violence.

  Vie then turned her attention to Quentel Jackson’s known female acquaintances.

  “Tashonda Davis,” she said.

  A graduate of Johnson C. Smith University with a degree in cosmetology from Chris Logan Beauty College in Bennettsville, SC. Owner of a very successful hair salon, mother of a young son and an active member of the Victims Against Violent Crimes Program. Upon further examination, Vie noticed that not only was she a member, but also a victim.

  “Interesting,” she mumbled, with a furrowed brow. After rummaging through each file more than once, Vie carefully inspected each photo.

  “Quentel Jackson,” she whispered. She began thinking of their encounter. How long had it been since she felt that undeniable churning inside her stomach in the presence of a man? Four years ago? No, not four, but five years ago, college maybe. She smiled to herself as thoughts of her college sweetheart flooded her brain.

  Justin was his name. He was a star power forward for University of North Carolina at Charlotte, with a promising career at the next level. Unfortunately, it was not to be. After her freshman year, over the summer, she received a call that would alter her life forever. It was from Justin’s parents, with the devastating news that Justin had been murdered. He had been killed due to being mistaken for a drug-lord by a full-fledged crack addict, who’d been paid basically pennies by a rival drug dealer across town to commit the murder. Sinking deeper into her tormented past, Vie thought of her parents.

  Their beautiful split-level home in the middle class section of Charlotte, NC was just a few miles from Lake Norman. Her early years couldn’t have been better. She was privately schooled, and had one younger sibling; a sister whom she loved dearly.

  The travesty began for her, when her mother lost her grandmother to cancer. She fell into a serious battle with depression, becoming addicted to prescription drugs. She eventually began taking the daily trip down cocaine boulevard, which ultimately proved to be the undoing of their once big happy family. Her father was a diligent husband to the end. He tried everything in his power to regain the spirit, love and very soul of his beautiful wife.

  After two years of a hard fought and crucially unsuccessful battle, her mother lost control of her body. A frame that once boasted the poise and radiance of a queen, quickly became that of a frail and bedridden hospice patient.

  At the age of thirty, she was gone, and Vie and her younger sister were motherless. Their father did everything possible to keep their family together, but his efforts would be to no avail. Monstrous medical bills, the everyday stress of single parenthood, and the dove like symptoms of having to live without his soul-mate ultimately did him in.

  He died exactly twenty-four months later, on the same day, same hour and within the exact same minute that his wife had departed the world. He died from a broken heart, although the official cause of death was a stroke.

  For months, Vie and her younger sister bounced from one relative to the next. They were surrounded by drugs, booze, and aunts and uncles who took advantage of their young minds, through molestation and incestuous sex.

  Two abortions later, after numerous foster homes and lengthy prison sentences for three of her sexual predator uncles and one aunt, their mother’s eldest sister finally made the trip to North Philly’s foster care headquarters and claimed her two young nieces. She became their legal guardian, giving them hope and a better chance at life.

  Vie smiled inwardly, her eyes becoming vague with memories that seemed as if they’d happened only yesterday.

  “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Her favorite auntie would always ask her.

  “I want to be a cop,” Vie would always say.

  “A cop?”

  “Yes auntie, I want to be a police officer.”

  “No! No! No!” Her aunt would exclaim. “That’s too dangerous! Besides, you’re too pretty to be a cop, Lil’ Pumpkin,” She teased, before grabbing both her dimpled cheeks.

  “I don’t want to be pretty,” little Vie would say, before bursting into tears.

  “Alright! Alright! Alright! If you want to be a cop, that’s fine with me,” her aunt would finally give in.

  For years in the back of her mind, she felt that her little niece would eventually grow out of her tomboyish ways. Which, she did, but only to a certain degree. Beautiful beyond the most critical of standards, after high school, she enrolled at UNC-Charlotte. Graduating with honors, Vie made the decision to pursue her dream of becoming a police officer.

  Not just any officer, but the type of officer who would be able to stop a child, any child, from going through what her and her younger sister had endured. She hated criminals in the worst way, but her heart burned with an unyielding hatred for the type of criminal that had caused the destruction of her family. Drug dealers.

  She despised their character and their sadistic dominion over the weak. She abhorred their arrogant and flamboyant ways. But nothing touched her very core, like the disrespectful, brutal, derogatory words they used towards their so-called women; breaking down their walls of confidence, while killing their self-esteem.

  Officer Vie was brought out of her temporary reverie by the alarm clock on her desk. “Five a.m.” she mumbled, a long yawn escaping her throat.

  She focused her attention on the photo of Quentel Jackson, once again. Then, her mind began to dwell on their encounter. Everything about this man told her that he wasn’t the ani
mal Stokely had portrayed him to be. But, why? Why was he so determined to destroy this man?

  As she continued to ponder it all, there was one thing Vie was convinced of, as she stood from her small office desk. She was dead set on getting to the bottom of the whole situation. Her face held a soft smile as she held his photo at arm’s length, while enjoying the lustful churning in the depths of her stomach.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Irreplaceable”