Free A Hustler's Son II by T. Styles Page B

‘noid.
    Anyway, O walked out like a superstar. Her body was unreal. I neva saw a waist so small that led to an ass so phat. She reminded me of my ex-girl Keisha and that jive fucked me up. She was obviously more loose than usual. She must’ve added a drink wit’ her smoke. Shiiiiittttt …whateva she needed to do to make it work, I was wit’. And she had her victims captivated. Everyone but Spikes.
    “Damn girl,” Prangsta yelled damn near spillin’ his drink on the table. “It’s like that?” he continued admirin’ her thick legs. I don’t know but for some reason…it seemed like he was tryin’ too hard.
    O ain’t acknowledge shit they was sayin’. She moved a few drinks on the table they surrounded and eased on top of it. She held the red net purse that protected her possessions closely.
    Sittin’ on the table, she leaned back so that her legs could sway back and forth in the air like scissors. Movin’ her thongs to the side, she winked at them as she showed them her juice box. Prangsta and Crane stood up to get a better view, while Kyope eyed her from where he sat. Spikes acted as if she wasn’t even there. In less than two minutes, O was able to get them to bring they guards down. It was exactly what we wanted.
    “Damn!” Prangsta said grabbin’ his dick. “You fat as shit! I can fuck that pussy right?”
    She ignored the question and said, “If you like that than watch this,” she smiled.
    Taking Kyope’s empty Corona bottle, she injected it slowly into her pussy. Then she threw her head back and her golden colored hair fell on her shoulders before brushin’ the table lightly. Niggas wit’ camera phones was in full flick mode. O was killin’ ‘em and now she had the attention of other people in the area too. The girl on the stage dancin’ sat down on the edge and watched. For this moment, she was gettin' no love. O performed like she was enjoyin’ every minute of it and for a second, I wondered if she did.
    “Mmmmmmm,” she moaned, movin’ her hips while they watched like young doctors witnessin’ the birth of a baby. She was fuckin’ the shit out that bottle. Archin’ her back like it had hit her spot.
    Kyope sat in his chair and peeled off a couple of hundreds and the others threw what they had left. Money appeared to fall from the sky as strippers looked on in envy. There had to be over three thousand dollars on the table and a couple hundred in the air.
    “You, boys ready for me?” she asked Kyope and his crew. They eyes told her they was ready. She pulled the bottle out of her wetness and placed it on the table. Prangsta grabbed it and sucked the rim. A few niggas shook they heads in disgust. He stay goin’ too far. Once she was up, she was careful ‘bout keepin’ her purse close to her at all times.
    “Would you mind if I dance for you?” she asked Crane. He shook his head no. “You won’t be disappointed,” she winked.
    Wit’ her back faced Crane, she moved her hips around on his lap like the second hand on a clock. Havin’ recently done me, I knew how good it felt. Crane grabbed a hold of her hips like handlebars on his first bike. She allowed him to. She took her time and didn’t rush the show. Next she turned around to face him, and straddled him. Her feet ain’t touch the floor and she moved like a spinnin’ top. Everything was goin’ as planned.
    When she was done wit’ him, she eased over to Prangsta who acted like he just got out of Cell Block 8. He snatched her by the arm and pulled her on top of him. For some reason, I felt like breakin’ his jaw. I fell back realizin’ that me smashin’ his ass wasn’t in the plan. Once again he was loud and boisterous puttin’ on a show. I was startin’ to wonder ‘bout him.
    “Damn! You make me wanna put somethin’ in you right here and now,” he said as she straddled him and placed her arms ‘round his back.
    “Be easy big, boy,” she told him. “I just wanna make you feel good.”
    Wit’ out anyone