Where?

Where?
Cutter hated having a gun to his head. Nevertheless, he calmly drove Junior’s truck down the familiar road toward Bellafont manor. He gave the beauty beside him a quick glance. Her hair was flowing in the breeze with a partially cracked window, and along with her light colored eyes, sexy figure, and alluring scent made it hard for him to keep his eyes on the gravel road.
Bridgette was leaning against the passenger door, with her arm holding the gun perched on a corner of her chair. Her eyes drifted to his crotch, while he enjoyed how her denim shorts leaned to the side just enough that he could see the outline of her full lips in her cotton panties.
“It’s going down,” she said after several long minutes of silence.
“Excuse me?”
“Your pecker. It’s going down.” She pointed at his crotch with some disappointment. “Why? Is it me?”
He gave her a hungry glance. “Aww no, baby it ain’t you.” a half truth. Truth was the gun made him awfully anxious. Especially when her mind began to wander and the tip of the gun tip toed its position.
“Or is it the fact you got to do more than one thing at a time vexing your little old pea brain?”
“Motherfucker who you callin’ a pea?” But before he could finish, a sudden unseen cloud of her scent rained down upon him. His hostility waned, while his cock rose high enough to graze the steering wheel.”
She licked her lips one more. “Now that’s more like it.”
“Maybe you point that gun somewhere else, just in case we hit a bump.”
“Then don’t hit no bumps Chere.” She replied. “And keep that wood straight.”
“Naw you put that gun away.” He looked her way quickly. “I ain’t going nowhere.”
Her perfume wafted up his nose, and he throbbed in his seat. “Okay Chere,” she said and slid the safety in place. She sat the gun between her legs.
“That better?”
“Yeah, but now, its blocking yo’ sweet, sweet pussy.”
She gave a short laugh as her home came into view. “Now how do you know how sweet my pussy is?”
“Shit,” he said dragging out the vowel. He deftly parked the car in the semi-circle drive in front.
“I’m a connoisseur of naturale eius debent.”
Her mouth fell open and she sat forward, “That’s Latin for pussy.”
“Vagina to be precise.” Cutter said bashfully. “I read a lot in prison. If you ever have to do time, and I hope you never do, the library is a great place to go, to limit the odds of you being raped.”
Bridgette brushed her hand over his cock through his pants. “Intellect is so sexy,” she groaned.
“And I’m a gangsta.”
He snatched the gun off the dash and pointed it at her.
“Don’t move bitch don’t move one fucking muscle.”
He jerked the latch and as he did lost balance. His door-side leg fell out of the truck, slipping on the outside step. He scrambled to his feet, while keeping the gun aimed at Bridgette, who was laughing.
“Bravo, bravo,” she clapped. She stepped out more cleanly and stood by the car. “It’s been a while since I’ve met a man who could resist me,” she looked down at his still protruding cock. “Or are you?”
“Yeah, you sexy voodoo bitch. I’m resisting.” He took the safety off. “I don’t care how sexy you are, you a voodoo bitch. And I don’t fuck no voodoo bitch.”
“Voodoo bitch, me? The only person I see weaving any magic is your friend right there.” She strutted his way like the cat cornering the canary.
“Stay back,” he said backing away from her. The heel of his shoe hit the front stairs.
“Why? Let me say hello to your friend Chere,”
She backed him up the porch of the house. Behind him the ornate black & white front door swung open.
“Bitch freeze. I ain’t above shooting no voodoo bitch,” he said backing into the cooler confines of the house.
“That voodoo,” she said putting her hands up. Her shirt rose, exposing her belly, and the curve of her hips, drawing his attention to the slight sway of her midsection, while her pussy softly called out to him.
“That you do,” she finished with a sigh she released a torrent of her pheromones into the air.
“I said don…” the scent exhumed his mind. A wave of dizziness sent him to the floor, and the gun slipped from his hand to lie on the floor.
“I want that cock,” she said, kicking the gun away as she grabbed his belt buckle.
“Voodoo…” he groaned as her hedonic bouquet floated into his soul. She slowly pulled down his zipper, while his cock grew harder, and longer.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” she said pulling his underwear aside. Her soft hand curled around his girth; while she watched his veins expand under her wanton touch.
“No,” he said, but all Cutter could think about was the touch of her hand and the desire to feel her mouth upon him.
“Hmm,” she groaned before her tongue traced the curves of his plump head. Her hand left his cock for a moment, and he felt her wriggle against his legs. She then took her mouth off his cock, before she swung her now naked hips over his face.
“Chere, taste me.”
He breathed her in once more, languishing in her fragrance while her mouth made love to his cock. Ravenously he placed his mouth against her puffy lips, slowly slipping his tongue between her folds. Her sweetness dribbled down onto his tongue, as it explored her sex. When he let his lips and toungue slide over her pearl, she shivered.
“That’s it Chere,” she said briefly taking him out of her mouth before swallowing it once more.
He gripped her firm buttocks, while his tongue made long lazy circles edging her most sensitve place.
“Oh shit Chere,” she groaned stroking him faster. Her eyes grew wide, as the growing bliss inside of her finally burst free. Her mouth spat a silent scream, while her face turned a bright red. She kept tugging at his shaft trying to grip its entirety while he slipped his tongue between her lips, and lapped at the deluge of juices raining upon him.
Again Bridgette shifted her body. She repositioned herself to be above him, face-to-face. Her hips rose and dropped in a teasing motion. She leaned between her legs and once again held him in her hands. She positioned him upward, sliding her opening onto him. Her body shook once more, as he felt her tighten around his shaft.
Cutter could stand no more, and gripped her hips. He pressed her upward and readjusted below. He sat upright. She squeeled. Then he swung his legs around pushing the two off the ground and hefted her up while she tightened her legs around him.
“Now that was impressive,” she breathed.
“Yeah, but now...you voodoo bitch, you gon get fucked,” he panted.
“I’ve heard that befo-” and she shut up as his hips started to slam inside of her.
Cutter looked around the room, as it became more clear and vivid. He heard cries of passion from elsewhere in the house.
Bridgette gripped his arms while her warm sheath clutched his cock in orgasmic joy. She mumbled something incoherent as he watched her breasts shimmy and shake on her chest.
Cutter wondered where Junior was as the cries of another couple echoed in the house. He started to pull out when Bridgette’s scent tickled him again, hardening his shaft and his resolve to fuck her thoroughly.
Abruptly he pulled his long thick shaft from her, and turned her around. He dragged his rigid length against her folds, teasing her. He watched her back against his cock, but he held her in place, and slid between her valley when he was ready, soliciting a moan of satisfaction.
He clinched her ass cheeks and took long slow strokes in and out of her, before quickening his pace. Soon she was bent all the way over, touching her painted toenails, and slamming back against his pistoning hips. Cutter watched her backside color and felt her knees trembled under his sexual duress. She screamed while leaving a trail of cum along his length.
She fell to the floor, and slipped into a fetal position, trying to catch her breath. “Damn.”
Cutter slipped his pants up and over his still granite cock, scooped up the gun and backed out of the room.
He rounded a corner and walked into the kitchen. There, Junior had Lenora draped over the table. He stopped pounding her from behind long enough to look at his best friend.
“How’d you get here bro?” Then Cutter looked around. His mindd flashed moments of Theroit’s Bar. He remembered the drive. He remembered the Bellafont. But, here, where he stood. Where Junior, Lenora, and Birdgette all stood. He was still at Theroit’s. That’s not possible. he broke his mind’s train of thought. How is this possible?
“Junior, finish fucking that voodoo bitch and come on.” Cutter was racing toward the door. “She got a spell on you brother. She got a spell on da both of us.”
Lenora sat up on her forearms. “Shoot him baby,” she turned around to Junior.
Cutter waved his hands trying to snap Junior out of his curious trance. “Wait bro! Wait! She got yo’ ass und…” Cutter raised his hands in a defensive move as if they’d stop a bullet.
Junior saw his tan leather holster hanging from the back of the chair next to his shirt. He snatched the .45 out its sheath and aimed it at his best friend.