by Balls Malone
“Oh, baby! You know what I love about you, baby? I love the way you suck my cock. I love that almost as much as I love your cunt. And you know how much I love your cunt,” said Lance Johnson, his voice heavy with lust.
“I don’t… No, put him away. It’s taxi!” said Hedda. She was from Norway and still a little shaky with the English. However, she was not wrong: they were indeed in the back of a taxi.
“I can’t, baby! Look what yer doin to me here,” Lance said proudly, as he finished pulling his huge erection out of his Adidas short shorts.
Lance and Hedda had been together for a heady two days. They had met in a night club, when she had all but thrown herself at him. He was tall, handsome, marvelously muscled, and had what she thought was a wonderfully ironic sense of fashion; with his pristine ensemble of vintage Adidas tennis wear. Lance’s seemingly inexhaustible supply of cocaine and ecstasy had not hurt either. He had been well worth blowing in the men’s room. They partied all night and all day and finished things late on their second night at his apartment with the kind of marathon fucking that only Viagra and a strict cardio regimen can provide.
Hedda had awoken that morning with a hangover and a heart full of dirty regret. She could not face putting her clothes back on after showering, so Lance loaned her a retro Adidas outfit of her very own. It seemed he took vintage Adidas very seriously, because he did not have any clothes besides vintage Adidas. He promised to drop her back at her apartment after they had breakfast and he ran an errand. She packed her own clothes in an Adidas shopping bag and they headed out together in their matching outfits, like some kind of nightmarish Adidas commercial.
They shared a special morning together. Lance had started the day by convincing Hedda to blow him in the shower, and he followed that with continued aplomb. He tried to get her to blow him in the booth at Denny’s, and, now, was trying to get her to blow him in the back of the taxi.
The taxi driver watching them in the rear-view mirror was working for her a little, so she almost let herself be won over by Lance’s wooing. After all, he was awfully good looking, and the best coke hook up she had found since moving there. But she wasn’t quite feeling it, and did not want to seem cheap, so she declined his offer yet again. When it became obvious that she was not going to blow him, the taxi driver started shouting for Lance to put his cock away. Lance shouted back some stuff about the reasons why certain kinds of people wind up with an ice pick in their skull. Hedda could not quite follow it, but she did ponder how funny it was that Lance’s full sleeves of prison gang tattoos had seemed so sexy-dangerous to her before, whereas now they just seemed dangerous.
Travel really is the best education.
They finally got out of the taxi at the beach and Lance and the driver exchanged a few more words before Lance threw some money at his face. The taxi peeled out of there, and Lance led Hedda down to the bike path on the beach. Rollerbladers and joggers were enjoying the beautiful day, going to and fro with that glazed enthusiasm so many of them have. Lance waited until there was a break in this sexy traffic, and he quickly reached in his vintage Adidas gym bag to transfer a Glock 19 to the front of his shorts.
“Don’t worry about that motherfucker, baby. He aint shit, and those cats he was talkin don’t got no juice this side of 60th,” Lance said, giving Hedda a sweet peck on the cheek.
They went down to a part of muscle beach where a bunch of guys even bigger than Lance, with very similar tattoos, were working out. She was gratified at all the attention they gave her. Lance had her “hold down his gat” for him and worked out for her. The hard weight of the pistol wrapped in a towel reminded her of the feel of his cock through his shorts. She moistened as she squeezed it tight, watching Lance blast through reps with sweat glistening on his chiseled physique.
Once Lance was all done, he stepped aside with a gargantuan freakshow to exchange some boxes and vials for a wad of cash. Then they were on their way.
“Don’t worry, baby. I don’t use that shit. My game is one hundred percent natural. No shrinkin balls here babe! But those freaks pay, man. That shit pays!”
Lance hailed another taxi and Hedda’s heart was thumping as he helped her into it. She knew without a doubt that she was going to invite him up to her place. As far as the ride there went, she would just have to see how the taxi driver struck her.
Muse Vassal 