watched him in the mirror as he admired my ass and stroked himself.
I felt the head of his dick enter me. “Don’t be telling me to shut up.” I moaned as I felt him push all the way inside me. I wanted to fuss, but it was feeling good, and I couldn’t help but throw the pussy back at him and talk shit. “Niggas willing to die over this pussy.”
“And I’m willing to kill ’em.” He shoved the dress over my ass, ripping it. I knew he did it on purpose.
“Trae!” I looked back at him. His eyes were closed as he held tight onto my waist, putting in work. I had an attitude about my dress, so I had to say something. “You tore my dress.” I even wanted to argue, but the dick now had my undivided attention. He stroked long and deep as subtle moans escaped his lips. I grabbed tighter onto the edges of the sink, and then he started coming. He pulled out and skeeted all over my ass and my dress. I stood straight up, turned around, and pushed him. “You dog!”
“Now, go change into something more conservative!” he said as he tried to catch his breath. “But you gotta admit, that was the shit.”
“You’ll see how conservative I am when you realize how long it’ll be before you get up in this pussy again,” I snapped as I brushed past him to get out of the bathroom. He blocked the door, staring at me as he fixed his clothes.
“What’s the matter with you? I know you ain’t trippin’ about a dress that I bought!”
“Yes, I am trippin’. I’m trippin’ about you tearing my dress, fucking me, spurting all over me, and I didn’t even come! What the fuck is your problem?” I snatched the bathroom door open, and he slammed it shut. “Move, Trae, with ya selfish ass!”
“Man, fuck that dress. I said I didn’t want you wearing it.” He grabbed the part he already ripped and ripped it some more. “Now what? And all of a sudden, you want to come, when at first you didn’t even want to fuck. Now you wanna come?” He grabbed me roughly, picked me up, and slammed me onto the sink.
I tried to get down, but he held me there. “What do you think you’re doing, Trae?” He was fumbling with his pants. “What is your problem?”
“You want to come, right?”
“Nigga, please. Let me outta here. You ain’t even hard. I gots to go.”
“Nah. I’m selfish. You ain’t come. You ain’t going nowhere.” He stood there between my legs, pulling out his dick.
“Forget it, Trae,” I said, only to have my leg raised up into the air and a half-hard dick thrust up inside me.
“Why the fuck are we arguing over nothing?” he asked me as he stroked in and out.
I could feel him growing harder and longer. I spread my legs wider, grabbed onto his ass, and pulled him deeper inside me.
“Oh, so you like that, huh?” He kissed me roughly around my neck.
“You ruined my dress.” I moaned as I shut my eyes tight and matched my strokes with his.
“Fuck the dress, and concentrate on fucking me.” He increased his fucking pace. “How does this feel?” he whispered in my ear.
“G-good.” I moaned as I tried to get and keep as much dick in me as I could. With me holding him tighter and him fucking me harder, I began to embrace and ride the wave of a much-needed orgasm. My husband waited for my legs to stop shaking before he eased out of me. I leaned forward and gently kissed his lips. He helped me off the sink, and before he could say something smart, I said, “You still didn’t have to fuck up my dress.” And I stormed out of the bathroom on wobbly legs.
I slipped past the family room where my girls were talking and laughing and the kids were running wild. On my way upstairs, as I made it into the living room, I heard knocking. I went to the door, cracked it, and there stood Trina. She looked as if she had been crying. I opened the door and asked, “What are you doing here? What’s the matter?”
“I didn’t want to come, but I need to talk to you.”
“Why didn’t you just call me? You know Trae don’t want you over here. I told you I would let you know when things cooled off.”
“Tasha, let me in. I need