Brick (Double Dippin')

by Allison Hobbs

  Evette refuses to calm down. She’s still struggling with me. Shaking her head in defiance. Thrashing, trying to get Munch off of her. She’s acting so wild, I think she might be in pain. I’ma fuck Munch up if he’s down there biting on her shit without my permission.

  Does this nigga realize he might get me in a world of trouble if I get caught up in a sex-related offense?

  Munch is acting real vicious down there on Evette’s coochie. I peek down to see if there’s any bloodshed. To my relief, everything looks cool. I still can’t take my hand off Evette’s mouth because she’s trippin’, screaming like she’s being murdered.

  “Shut up, Evette,” I say, seething. I’m not trying to go back to jail over this nut-ass broad.

  She keeps yelling, so I slap her. I slap the shit out of her. “If you don’t be still and let this man eat your pussy, I’ma give you something to yell about.” I ball up my fist. “You want me to crack your head open?”

  She blinks rapidly, and I can see fear in her eyes. She quiets down. “Get a grip, Evette. Now open your legs like you got some sense. I’m not going to jail for your fucking ass,” I hiss.

  She gets her act together and spreads her legs wide. Now that Munch doesn’t have to fight for his food, I hope he’ll hurry up and handle his business. I know one thing; this nut bull ain’t gotta worry about me extending another invitation to my house.

  While Munch is slurping, he’s growling as usual and damn near howling. I don’t know what’s wrong with this nigga. How much glue did he sniff? I got Evette quieted down and now Munch is going bonkers.

  While Munch is doing his thing, he pushes her legs up. Out of curiosity, I lean to the side to get a good look at what’s going on. I grimace. It seems like this nasty nigga is lapping up the cream that’s dribbling out of Evette’s ass.

  Aw, shit. My Johnson is starting to act up. It’s throbbing—giving me the kind of aching sensation that’s a cross between pleasure and pain. Damn, it’s crazy how the most unexpected shit gets my dick hard.

  I’m stroking my dick while I witness Munch eating my nutt out of Evette’s ass. The crazy thing is, dude don’t even realize what he’s slurping. Eat it, Munch. Lick my nutt up. That’s some sexy shit right there. Mmph!

  Munch gets greedy and suddenly flips Evette over. Now he’s spreading her cheeks and sucking cum straight out of her ass.

  “Whoa! Goddamn!” My dick is pulsating. This nigga can’t be so far gone that he doesn’t recognize the change in flavor. Munch is a freak. This nastiness has me so worked up and furious at the same time, I’m jacking off and sporadically cussing.

  “Lick it, nigga,” I blurt out loud. “Ooo, shit! Get all up in that ass.” I don’t know why I can’t keep my mouth shut. I’m verbally expressing the kind of shit that needs to stay inside my head. Fuck it! Munch ain’t listening. And Evette won’t pass judgment. She already knows that I get off on all types of freaking behavior.

  I’m overheated. Angry and aroused by all this filth and lust. I’ma have to whip her ass when Munch gets finished. Then I’ma invite Munch to jerk off with me. Together, we gon’ give this smut broad a cum shower.

  From the corner of my eye, I detect a flurry of motion. “Oh, hell no! You taking this too far, Munch. Get the fuck off of her!”

  This nigga done pulled Evette to her hands and knees and he’s fucking her from behind. Munch is grunting and talking real nasty. “You’re my bitch, bitch. And I’m your dog,” he grunts. His balls are swinging like an animal’s while he’s thrusting into my bitch.

  “Grab it,” Munch groans.

  “Grab what?” Evette responds breathlessly.

  “Yo, nigga. You outta pocket, don’t be telling her what to do.”

  I grab Munch by the loop of the collar, tryna choke this mufucka, but he’s steadily dog-fucking Evette and she’s giving it back. Her pussy acts like it’s starving, swallowing up Munch’s horse dick and shouting the crazy bullshit that he tells her to say.

  “I’m your bitch; you’re my dog.” Evette is chanting those stupid words. I can’t believe they’re fucking like two stuck-together mutts.

  This is a disaster. My plan to hurt and humiliate Evette is backfiring. What was I thinking when I brought Munch home with me tonight?

  As I watch my world collapse, I’m so distressed I feel dizzy. I’m even tottering somewhat as I anxiously pace while Munch is smashing my girl.

  I pull myself together. If you can’t beat ’em, then join ’em. So I pick up where I left off, and continue stroking my dick. When I’m ready to bust, I aim my dick at those two dogs in heat. I spray ’em with my dick juice, a last-ditch effort to try and separate them.

  My nutt is trickling down the back of Munch’s thigh and pooling inside the hollow of his knee. But that nigga acts like he don’t even notice.

  I shoot out some more cum. It lands on the sole of Evette’s foot. That freak bitch is wiggling and moaning as if her sex experience is heightened by the wet splash of jism.

  Nothing is stopping these doggish fools. They’re still going strong—fucking like rabbits.

  I’m beside myself with fury. I feel like peeing on these two nasty mufuckas. I bet a blast of hot piss will bring ’em back to their senses.

  CHAPTER 41

  I invite Munch to come have a beer with me. I’m being the bigger person, tryna let him know that there ain’t no hard feelings over the wild night he had with Evette. “I know you had no idea what you were doing…being high off that shit and whatnot.”

  He looks at me with a puzzled expression. “Whatchu saying, man?”

  “I’m saying that I’m not holding no grudge over the way you came to the crib and went wild, guzzling up Evette’s pussy and even fucking her right in front of me. I couldn’t stop you.”

  “Why do you care? Ain’t nothing between you and Evette. She’s your boarder, right?”

  “Nah, it’s a little deeper than that. Evette and I got a lil’ something going on. I keep it on the low…you know, because her face is all jacked up.”

  Munch gawked at me. “Ain’t nothing wrong with her face; it looks good to me.”

  Now it’s my turn to look bewildered. “Yo, man. I know that you two were going at it like two dogs in heat, but you had to notice she got that Bell’s palsy disease.”

  “Nah, I ain’t notice nothing. Evette’s a good-looking woman.” Munch gets up and goes in the kitchen. He opens the fridge.

  I’m frustrated over Munch calling Evette good-looking. He ain’t all there, mentally, but the nigga ain’t blind. In addition, I’m offended at the gall of Munch, acting like he lives here. First, he comes over here sucking and fucking my woman right in my face; now he’s taking liberties, going in the fridge and whatnot. “Whatchu doing, man?” I ask him, aggravated.

  “I’m about to throw something together for dinner. Surprise my baby with hot grub when she gets home from work.”

  “Nah, that ain’t gon’ work. Evette got responsibilities to me as soon as she walks through the door.”

  “Man, you crazy. Evette ain’t got no responsibilities toward anyone, except me and her. We’re talking about getting married.”

  “Married! You just met!”

  “Love at first sight.”

  “Munch, you really haven’t seen her. You were so busy fucking her doggy-style, you ain’t look at her droopy face.”

  “Man, I know what she looks like. I’m getting her a ring first of the month, when I get my social security check.”

  “You get a check?”

  “Yeah, man. It comes in my mother’s name, but I’ma switch it over to Evette’s name as soon as we get married.”

  I knew this mufucka had mental health issues. But still, the news about him and Evette is staggering. I don’t let it show. I keep my astonishment and anger to myself. While Munch is fiddling around in the kitchen, I call Fawn. Maybe she’ll pick up the phone and come around here and comfort me. After the third ring, she picks up. It’s about damn time!

 
“Whassup, Fawn? Where you been?”

  “Hey, Kaymar. Uh…I’ve been meaning to call you and let you know that I’m back with my ex. So…I’ll be around sometime tomorrow to pick my stuff. Is that cool with you?”

  “Back with your ex? What ex? You never told me nothing about a mufuckin’ ex,” I bellow.

  “I don’t have to run down my whole life story for you. We were only messing around; why are you tryna act like we were into something serious?”

  “Bitch, I was serious.”

  “Well, that’s too fuckin’ bad. Matter of fact, I don’t even want that bullshit I left in your bedroom. Keep it and have a good fuckin’ life!”

  Fawn hangs up. Shocked, I hold my cell for a few minutes, trying to figure out why my life is suddenly falling apart. I let Fawn’s pretty face and candy-flavored coochie knock me off my square.

  On some real shit, I need to beat the crap out of Evette, though. That cock-eyed ho has a lot of nerve, dumping me for Munch.

  I catch a sudden whiff of what Munch is cooking. Smells like something with garlic and onions. Shit smells good. But my pride won’t allow me to sit down and share a meal with him and Evette.

  I hear Evette’s keys outside the front door.

  Munch suddenly starts singing that Usher song, “There goes my baby!” Apparently, he can hear the jangle of Evette’s keys, too.

  I’m totally disgusted. I stand in the living room with my arms folded, ready to cuss Evette out for tryna play me.

  She walks in. And you could’ve knocked me over with a feather. Evette’s face is normal. That fuggly droopy side of her face is fixed. She’s actually looking kind of pretty.

  “What happened to your face?”

  “I don’t know,” she responds. “It was like this when I woke up this morning. I think it was all that good loving Munch put on me. The doctor always told me the situation could reverse.”

  This is unbelievable. Her mug ain’t twisted around anymore due to all that healing semen she got from all those blowjobs she gave me. Weeks of me smearing cum on her mug has healed her condition, but she wants to give Munch all the credit.

  “It was really nice of you to hook me up with Munch. Real nice, Kaymar. Thanks.” Evette is all smiles and I wanna slap her.

  I brought Munch over to assault her with his mangy-dog ways, and this smut bitch done fell in love. Man, this shit has backfired on me in every way possible.

  “Are you cooking dinner?” Evette asks, giving me an odd look.

  “Nah, that’s your new man. Munch is in the kitchen making you some grub.” I have my mouth turned down in disapproval.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, he’s in there cooking and carrying on,” I say with a fierce scowl.

  “Listen,” she whispers. “I don’t want Munch to find out about us. Can you get your stuff together and be out of here by tomorrow?”

  I feel my fist balling up. I’m so mad, I’m spitting and sputtering. I can’t even get out the litany of cuss words I want to hurl at her because Munch is calling from the kitchen.

  “Hey, Evette! Baby! Come on in here! I got a surprise for you!” Munch shouts.

  Grinning, Evette races away from the sucker punch I’m gearing up to deliver.

  “Is my boo-boo here fixing me dinner?” she coos and then runs into the kitchen.

  I stand there, steaming. A few minutes later, I stroll into the kitchen. Shit, I’m hungry. Angry or not, my stomach is on “E.” In the kitchen, my mouth literally drops open. I can’t believe my eyes. That quick, Evette is leaning against the kitchen sink with her skirt around her waist, and Munch is down on the floor licking and sucking between her legs. Now Evette is lowering herself down, getting into doggy-style position.

  Disgusting! I can’t watch these two mutts start their bullshit again.

  So, I slam the door and leave. Planning to drown my sorrows in alcohol, I walk around the corner to the bar.

  CHAPTER 42

  Feeling sad and lonely, I take a seat on a barstool. I look around the bar to see if any bitches are checking for me. Nope. These hoes ain’t paying me a damn bit of mind. I bet if I was flashing a knot, these cunts would be breaking they necks to sit down next to me. Bitches! I take a big, angry gulp of Budweiser. Then I remember I gotta drink slow…make this shit last. I’m down to my last five dollars!

  I hate bitches. Haven’t I been through enough in my young life…doing a long bid at a tender young age? Why bitches still making life hard for me? And when am I gon’ finally gon’ catch a break and become the paper maker I know I can be?

  I think about calling my mother, but she’s not going to allow me to stay at her house. She blames me for everything—says the crime I got caught up in ruined her life.

  I’m the one that spent all those years in prison. Damn! Bitches get on my nerves. They make my life a living hell.

  I look around the bar again, but this time I’m looking for a cunt to follow out of the bar. Yank her into an alley. Put a choke-hold on her. Take all the pussy I want.

  As I’m brooding and nursing my Budweiser, I notice this big, tall dude standing in the back of the bar, near the pool table. He ain’t flashy or nothing, but I can see a knot in his pocket. Plus, I can tell by the confident way he’s carrying himself, dude got bank.

  He strides over to the bar. The barmaid was just about to approach me to find out if I want another beer, but the minute she notices dude, she forgets about me and races over to him. “Whatchu drinking?” she asks with a wide smile.

  “Henny,” he answers and takes the empty seat next to me. Smiling and giving him a flirtatious glance, the barmaid pours him a drink. “This one is on the house, big man,” she says as she pushes the shot glass toward him.

  Dude points a finger at me. “Give my man whatever he’s drinking,” he offers.

  “Thank you, man.” Now a nigga is feeling good.

  Every broad in the bar is looking in our direction; they’re strategizing…trying to figure out the right approach to get with the baller.

  I straighten up my shoulders, feeling famous by association.

  “My name’s Kaymar, man. What’s good?” I offer him my hand.

  “Brick, man. It’s all good.”

  Brick? Sounds like the name of a rapper. But I never heard of him. Maybe he’s underground.

  Brick squinted toward the barmaid. She’s at the far end of the bar. “Yo, cutie!” he bellows. “Hit my man over here up with some Henny! Give everybody at the bar a drink on me!” my new friend, Brick, offers.

  “Good lookin’ out, man.” I nod enthusiastically. Dude must have major paper to throw around. I’m impressed.

  Thirsty chicks sitting at the bar are all smiles as the barmaid starts pouring free drinks, courtesy of Brick.

  Now this is more like it. This is exactly how I imagined rolling when I first got back to Philly. Fuck Evette, fuck Fawn, and fuck Munch. I don’t need none of them broke-ass niggas. I only fucks with ballers.

  “It was nice meeting you, dude. But I’m about to roll out. This part of Philly is too slow for me. These women…” He flips his hand back and forth. “They only so-so. I like to keep company with strippers. Big, fake-ass titties turn me on. You know what I’m sayin’?”

  I nod. I never touched a pair of fake tits. But I’m sure it’s freaky. “Where you from?” I ask; curiosity is killing me.

  “Atlanta. But I’m originally from Philly.”

  “When you going back?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  I almost want to plead with this bull to take me to ATL with him. Put me on with the rap scene. I’m not sticking around in dull-ass Philly. Shit, it’s a free country, and I should be able to go wherever I want. I can register with the sex offenders’ list in Atlanta. On the low. Keep that information under my hat. Everything ain’t for everybody.

  He chats briefly with the barmaid and then returns his attention to me. “Yeah, my flight leaves tomorrow, but tonight I’m tryna have some fun. It’s dead in here. A
nd I can’t find any good weed.” He shakes his head.

  My mind is racing, tryna think of who might have some good weed. Pretty Boy keeps some green, but I’m not introducing him to my new friend. I learned my lesson with Munch. Shit, next thing I know, Pretty Boy will be part of Brick’s entourage and I’ll be out on my ass, living in a shelter.

  Brick throws back the shot of Henny and stands up. “Good talking to you, man. I’m heading over to Delilah’s Den.” At that moment, his cell phone goes off.

  “Whassup, my man? You got something for me?” he says into the phone.

  I’m impressed by his style. I heard about Delilah’s Den. That’s where Yeezy’s pretty, ball-headed ex used to dance. They got only gorgeous bitches up in that piece. I wanna go!

  He glances at me. As if it were an afterthought, he says, “You wanna roll out? My man came through. He got that B52. I only smoke the best, baby.”

  I smile dumbly. I never heard of B52, but I been locked up so long, there’s a lot of shit I don’t know. This dude seems like he could be a sort of like a mentor. Seems like rolling with him would be a party every night. Liquor, quality weed, and big-titty bitches.

  My big welcome home freak bash with strippers is getting closer to becoming a reality.

  I got my swagger back. With a dip in my stride, I’m walking next to Brick, heading toward the door. The females are gazing at us sorrowfully, like they’re mourning the fact they didn’t get a chance to ride our dicks. I don’t feel sorry for none of ’em. If they want a high-profile dude like Brick or me, they better invest in some breast implants. We only like big-titty bitches.

  Brick pulls out his cell again and hits a button. “Take the limo around the block a couple of times. I gotta make a transaction. I’ll hit you up when I’m finished.”

  “We’re going to the strip club in a limo?”

  “For sure. Females give up booty, head, titty fuck…anything you want when you give ’em a ride in a limo.” He laughs. “Watch how I operate when we get to the club. I’ma school you, young bull.”