I love this dick,” she hissed into her hand, coating his dick with juices, her breathing telling him she was close to cumming already.
“Throw this pussy back,” Power growled, slapping her ass with a resounding smack.
“I am!”
Smack! She pushed back into him, doubling the force of his thrust. He grabbed at her hips through the jiggly fat there, pulling her back onto his thighs like a fist pounding an open palm.
“Oh fuck, you gonna make me cum again!”
Smack! Smack! The surface of her ass making waves as each blow hit home.
Kim was in a fuck frenzy, loving the pain of pleasure. “Please baby, cum please! I gotta go!” Kim pled. Grinding into him with greater urgency.
Their bodies slapping together sounded like applause as he pounded her. The crowd goes wild! Power’s whole body convulsed and he exploded inside of her. He slid out of her. She turned, dropped to her knees and cleaned him with a greedy tongue.
“Damn,” Kim said when she’d finished, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
She stood and pulled up her pants up in one movement. As she clipped her belt buckle up she smiled and blew Power a kiss. He could smell himself on her breath. “Oh yeah, I came up here to tell you to get ready. You have to go to court.”
“Do I have time to take a shower?”
“No, you gotta go smellin’ like this good pussy you just fucked the shit out of,” she winked as she sashayed out the door.
Power tucked his dick into his boxers and shrugged up his peel. There was no better way to get ready for the judge.
“Will the defendant please rise.”
Power looked at his lawyer as he stood up, and his lawyer did the same. As usual Power was the only black guy in the room.
“On what grounds are you seeking a dismissal of all charges, counselor?” the judge asked, looking as if he could care less. The judge was fat, white and looked down at Power and his lawyer, Cal Robertson, as if they were a disease, through half-moon glasses. The judge looked like an egg with eyebrows.
Robertson, a thin New Yorker with more smarts than you could fit inside the usual white guy cleared his throat and replied, “I’ve talked to the D.A., your honor, and because of the tragic death of the state’s only witness to this alleged crime, one –” he looked at his notes – “Tariq Boyd, there simply is no case.”
The judge nodded. This was an old story. “I see. And how did this…Mr. Boyd… meet his demise, counselor?”
“Home invasion, your honor. He and his wife were gunned down.”
“How convenient,” the judge remarked sarcastically, before turning his attention to the D.A. “Mrs. Pointer?”
The D.A. Sally Pointer stood. She reminded Power of a teacher in his elementary school who would wear skirts that would flash her thighs every time she sat down. Mrs. Pointer wore the same kind of skirt today. Power knew he should be concentrating on the proceedings, but for a white bitch, Mrs. Pointer had fine legs.
“Yes your honor, I don’t think it’s in the best interest of the state to pursue charges at this time.”
The judge looked at his file, then at Power. “Mr. Mitchell, how old are you?”
Power was still fixated. Robertson nudged him and the judge repeated the question.
“Seventeen,” Power said, adding an extra subtle sneer to his tone.
“Mr. Mitchell, you aren’t even old enough to drink and you already have several assaults, including, I might add, a double murder that you are currently charged with. I am inclined to believe this is a pattern,” the judge said.
Mrs. Pointer was adjusting her blouse and Power had her titties in his mind. Old white bitch always grateful for black dick.
Power had to snap back again. “Not guilty, your honor,” Power replied to a question that hadn’t been asked.
“I’m not asking how you plead, young man.”
“Then what’s your point?” Power drilled the judge with a look that would burn stone.
The judge smirked. “Ah, I see I have a tough guy in my courtroom. My point, Mr. Mitchell, is you are a very violent young man and I find it highly fortuitous that the only witness is dead. But, as they tell you in law school, it’s not what you know; it’s what you can prove. I just hope I’m the one on the bench when your luck runs out.”
“We done yet?” Power asked Robertson.
The judge banged his gavel with maximum annoyance. “Case dismissed! See you soon, Mr. Mitchell.”
Under his breath, Power mumbled, “fucking cracker,”
He turned to his lawyer as they walked into the cold marble floored corridor outside the courtroom “Thanks…for nothin’.”
“Hey, I got you off.” Roberson said dead pan. Like it meant something.
“QB got me off, remember that.”
Sighing, Robertson handed Power over to the Corrections Officer who would take him back to Riker’s for release processing.
Before they got ten yards, two men waving detective badges, Spagoli and O’Brien, called to them. The C.O. escorting Power stopped. Spagoli grilled Power hard peeling out of the shadows to block Power’s way. Power gave nothing away on his face. He made sure he didn’t even look irritated.
“Do you know who I am?” Spagoli gritted.
“Nobody,” Power answered without blinking.
“No, nobody you want to fuck with,” Spagoli countered. “You think you’re the shit because you had one of your fellow monkeys murder the witness, huh? Well, trust me…next time it won’t be so easy.”
“Yo, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, but if someone got murdered, it sounds like you ain’t doin’ your job. Protect and serve, right?” Power smirked.
Power could see Spagoli wished they were having their conversation in a dark alley. Power had met a lot of officers who wanted to wipe that look off his face permanently. Power still hadn’t blinked, not once, and wouldn’t until Spagoli’s eyelids gave him the win.
Spagoli blinked.
O’Brien stepped in. “Oh, believe me. You will get served…but I don’t know about the protect part.”
Spagoli and O’Brien walked off, leaving Power to contemplate their wake, and when they were through the doors out into the snowy streets, he allowed his eyelids to do their thing.
