Jip Ch. 03
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To watch, sober, while other people dance– fuck a bunch of that.
Kittie played her private camera game, panning the dancers like a Steadicam, which let her do a slow strut, at least, to the music. Something had to happen, or it would be Boredomcam, an Andy Warhol film of nothing very much going on. Her camera eyes moved cinematically across the room.
Lawanda letting Curtis be grabbin her ass. A smile on a flushed white face: that was Jip Haskell. Kittie smiled back.
That white boy be checkin me out! Jip was okay, though, he took you seriously and he had respect. Maybe he’d dance, she thought. Fuck, maybe he got weed, that’d be–
“Jip, yo!” Kittie sang out.
“Love the little skirt, Kittie!” Jip replied, and he edged along the dance floor toward her. Jip had come stag to the Keshava; Kittie did look hot, and he knew she was a smart, quirky, impulsive girl. Right now, he could welcome some impulsiveness. “Why ain’t you dancing in that thing?”
“Ain’t nobody ask, yo,” Kittie said. They came face to face; she could talk normally if she got right in his ear. “Ask me to dance.”
“C’mon, baby, dance with me,” Jip said, leaning close.
“Sure, baby; thought you’d never ask, you real shy or somethin, yo?” The two were grinning at each other now. Jip put a hand on her hip and guided her into the thick crowd of dancers.
“Beautiful girl like you would make anybody shy, baby,” Jip told her in a confident tone.
“That be me, the beauty queen, all right,” she said, laughing.
“Miss Keshava Ballroom, ladies and gentlemen: Kittiwah Smith!”
“You! Don’t be puttin your lines out for me, yo; I know about you sweet-talkers.”
The evening had suddenly improved. Just chance meeting; but a person is prouder of good luck, sometimes, than actual accomplishments. They danced with a little strut, and also a little joy. They stayed out for another long mix, and then extricated themselves to find a piece of wall to lean on together.
“You were great, Kittie! Want somethin’ to drink?”
“Who you come with?” Kittie narrowed her eye. “Cheryl here?”
“Nope; I came alone this time.” Jip didn’t need to be a mentalist to read Kittie’s next question. He answered it. “Maybe for good, far as Cheryl goes.”
Kittie acted indifferent about the information. “Drink,” she said, “I dunno; you got..?” She mimed smoking.
“Come out to the car a minute, if you want.”
This suited Kittie. The music became muffled as they passed the door; it was surprisingly cool and quiet on the street. A group of cigarette smokers were talking about movies. Across the street, a cat scooted under Jip’s car for cover. “You and Cheryl break up, yo?”
“Long story. I went alone to Rhode Island, and she got jealous.” Jip extracted a wallet, and handed Kittie a neatly-made little fattie. “Lemme light that; here.” As she smoked, the streetlamp laid dramatic angular shadows across them, the light broken by moving maple leaves. The red glow cast a blush over the sweet roundness above Kittie’s tube top. Warm brown tits by doob light, and above them, a warm face. Jip was less content, now; a new goal had occurred to him.
They smoked together in the rustling half-light. The cat came out and nuzzled their ankles. It was young, half-grown; a blue point. Jip scratched its sharp chin and behind the injured ear. “A fighter,” he remarked, looking up from Kittie’s thighs to her face. “See the ear?”
She passed him the dope and nodded. The cat moved off a meter and rolled onto its back. Jip imbibed a bit of smoke and watched her sit on her heels to stroke it. “You a badass, then? You a little kung fu cat, yo?”
“Let’s call him Shotokat; we’ll see him again if he lives around here.” Kittie turned a quick smile of appreciation on him, then returned to Shotokat. Her ass and the muscles in the small of her back caught and held his eye.
There was much to like about Kittiwah Smith. He remembered her from the role of Tituba in the Miller play. “Are you going to be in Voices Off?”
“Not on stage, yo. I’m assistant TD for this one. Turntable, yo.”
“You have to build those just so? For quiet?”
“Quiet ain’t that Antalya Escort important, really. Not like you’d think. It’s just that it has to be reliable. The whole stage turns, basically.”
A good way to build a bond is to have the girl talk about what she knows best and the things in her life. The theater had a lot of aspects, and he spoke with her about it through the whole joint and half the next. Kittie warmed to him.
“You want to come dancing again, tomorrow?” he asked.
“Oh, man! I got to be the theater. The designer starts the painting tomorrow.”
“All right. What time? Could I come there, maybe do something to help?”
They made the date. They danced late, Jip drove her home, and she kissed his cheek as she left the car. Her lips were firm and full.
The trouble with learning about a person is that you run the risk of falling in love with her. Cheryl had been difficult to get to know, but Kittie was an open book. One with complex, fine print pages you knew you’d never finish or be able to understand– but she never hid things. The contrast opened Jip’s eyes to how secretive and tentative Cheryl had been.
Her TD was a man with doctrines, ways to work that were proven good; whereas set designers live in a world where physics is suspended, for its bad behavior. She was clever and competent, smoothing the rough relations between the wacky set designer and the technical director, assigning work to the intern and to Jip with no fuss.
And her Tituba had not been a caricature but a woman; she could act. Dressed to work painting a set, Kittie was even better looking than in her club clothes, besides. Jip was feeling lucky just to know her by the end of the set painting; Cheryl was fading to a memory.
“Drive you home?”
“I got my car. Meet me at my place, yo.”
On the stoop, he told her how impressed he was with her way of working with people. Her answer shocked him.
“You falling in love with me. No, it’s all right, yo. Look, Jip. I been seeing you in school, watching you now. I like you. But you kinda lead with you heart.” They went up the stairs. “The apartment, it’s a mess, yo.”
He thought about it. Did he lead with the heart? It sounded so naïve! “I guess you’re right,” he conceded.
“Way to make a girl feel good about her housekeeping!”
“I meant the heart thing.”
“I know; lighten up! It makes me wanna just kiss you, though.”
She leaned on him. Through their first kiss, Jip was pinned against the door. Each of her lips was an object, they were so firm. Jip took in her scent– paint, a salty musk of skin– and explored her back and flanks with both hands. Her thighs straddled one of his; the pussy rubbed against him like Shotokat, but forcefully. Kittie opened two buttons for him. He handled her tits gently, then much more roughly in response to her squirms. She didn’t let the kiss end until he’d gotten himself thoroughly hypnotized.
They stood, legs still entangled, foreheads touching, looking into each others’ eyes. Jip spoke.
She shook her head. Don’t distract me. “Do it again, yo.”
Again, and more. When he pulled his fingers out to taste them, Kittie jumped a little in surprise.
“You like the taste of that?”
“Twenty four seven,” he confirmed.
“Hallelujah. I knew I needed me a white boy for somethin! Come on,” she said, giving his cock a pull, leading the way. “I’ll give you a taste of that!”
She sat on the couch and Jip knelt, eyes on the prize. “Oh Jesus!” Kittie cried. Here he was, serious. Real. “Get it, baby– oh. You slut man.” He was licking it right up. “Kiss it, yo. Oh, fuck.”
Kittie rocked back onto the couch and lifted both legs up around him, curled up to watch Jip’s face and hands. As the hot sex buzz increased in her pussy she dropped the legs on his shoulders to let his hand move more easily. Her cries and little blasphemies made him smile. She gave him her nectar, the wine of Paradise in the garden, the reward of the faithful.
She lost her focus on Jip and just rode her approaching come. Rising raggedly like a boiling syrup, Antalya Escort Bayan it was swamping her mind and possessing her senses.
“O Jesus save me! O Jip, baby, you got me, yo. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come so big!”
She wailed, twisting the cry in her throat like a cat. Bangles rattled in Jip’s ears as she pulled his face in tight.
The man’s mouth just kept on. Jolt after jolt struck deep into her. Kittie hauled him in hard against her to make it more bearable, but the crashing electric strokes of fingers and tongue stripped her control away. Her nipples twinged, her legs straightened out behind him, her forehead shoved itself into the back of the couch, her toes curled.
“Zam!” she breathed. “Mutha fuck.”
Another mew, and her hands turned, pushing his head off and away.
“Just stop, hold on a minute, baby, you gotta, yo, I can’t take it, yo!”
Jip relented and grinned. His neck had an ache already. Her legs and arms pushing and squeezing and shoving– she was strong! He watched her face and let his fingers fall from between the thick, deep-red inner lips. They clung to him; those could take it.
He stroked her brow and supported a relaxing leg. Her eyes finally came back to him.
“What you smilin at, yo?” she said, and they both laughed.
Jip sat back, struck by a thought. Kittie leaned forward eagerly.
“Looka that!” she crooned. She stood and slapped his shoulder. “Now you! Sit right there, there you go, mmm! I gotta sit on that a second, yo.”
She stretched up while he turned and sat, then stripped off the shirt and bra, which had been hanging loose. The nipples looked stuffed to bursting, tight and dark. She pinned him to the couch by the shoulders and straddled him, waggling. Jip steadied his heated cock for her, she found it and sank fully down. Her tail wiggled side to side and she gave him a wicked grin.
“Nice!” she said. He was worried, though.
“Kittie, you got–“
“This ain’t for real, yet, yo; I just wanna feel it.”
Jip was dubious. But she took two strokes with her eyes closed before lifting herself again. His cock glistened in her fingers. She knelt and tucked her legs under her.
“I monna suck you right to heaven; then maybe we worry about condoms, okay?”
“Gotta like that plan,” Jip said. Cheryl had been a virgin, he thought. That had been the difference. She’d been shy and eager all at once, but balky at odd times. Easily offended, coy, then suddenly romantic. A virgin. No wonder! It all came together for him, but he shelved it. Kittie was going to work, and he felt those fat firm lips again.
“Oh man. Oh, yeah.”
Kittie licked and nuzzled him from asshole to head, then met his eye. “Just the beginnin! You all lay back.”
Kittie had those exotic eyes, the Aztec tilt above the African mouth. She had almost no adornment but her piercings and the bangles at her wrist, since she’d dressed to paint scenery, and he liked her that way. Her dancing face, with its outlined pale lips and glittery eyes, was too artificial; this seemed warm and real. Her adoring lips sent a heat to the spot between his balls, his cock seemed tight and heavy as if it were very huge. Exquisite silken tingles followed every move of Kittie’s lips and tongue. Jip fell in love all over again. He felt a flush mount to his cheek and his nipples rose.
“You’re so beautiful.” He stroked a warm cheek.
Kittie had to laugh. “Yeah,” she murmured, “We all beautiful, suckin.”
“But I mean it!”
“I know you do, now hush.” She sent his hand away, placing it on the couch.
For once, she was really in the mood to do this. “The man needs a momma,” she told herself. Her touch was maddeningly gentle and light, but for Jip there was much more urgency. Kittie refused to be hurried.
At first she played games, tracing a 1 and then a 2 along and around the young man’s cock, counting. She came back for 8 a few times in succession, when it had been such a hit the first time. When Jip relaxed, she’d pump her lips on it a few times, giving it some throat, to wake him up. With Jip once again sweating and on the verge, she went back to flutters Escort Antalya of the tongue and flirts with her nipples. It was fun. Jip appeared to be in agony.
He had propped himself on his elbows. That way he wouldn’t reach in to interfere, he figured. His jeans and Vans were still on– or mostly off, now; his shirt unbuttoned and tangled around his arms. His posture and the open shirt emphasized his belly muscles; Kittie loved the visual. He was making such ridiculous noises. He smelled like a man in rut– with scene paint. Gradually that and the feel of corded hard meat warmed her. Her sucking gained momentum and energy. She slurped up his taste, her eyes slitted, then closed. She snaked a hand down to trace her pussy lips and push in on her clit.
No pleading had made her less light in her touch, but now he wasn’t able to speak at all. His knuckles, white with their grip on the upholstery; his legs, straight with pointed tightly clenched toes; his mouth, open, making mindless croaks and grunts had all passed from his mind’s control. Frustratingly gentle, Kittie had driven Glenn slowly to a hypnotic focus on just the cock, just the woman. He had no previous life, he hardly had an identity any more.
Jip felt the tickle among his hairs as his sack contracted. His already huge-feeling cock felt gigantic now, a pulsar ringed by lips, orbited by tongue. He watched Kittie’s beautiful face when he could, but he had to close his eyes. Then he heard her pussy as she fingered it, and he tipped over the brink.
He gave her incoherent warning, but she hadn’t needed it. She was raised up high on her knees, tense and taut, mashing her clit and driving her throat onto him when he came.
His astronomical cock thrummed with the sheer pleasure of it. Impossibly the head expanded again. Pulses traveled the parsecs along the curved cords and veins, to exit in Kittie’s knowing mouth. There were no words to his howl, an intermittent mewl and yawp. His nostrils flared, his chest flushed pink. He lost even the woman as his eyes clamped closed, leaving only Cock itself, racked by spasm after unbearable spasm in the red darkness.
Kittie kept up her feverish suck even during the come, so there was no letup, no mercy. And still her touch was not quite strong enough, despite her own breathless passion and greed. Jip was sobbing and trying to drag enough back from the blackness to speak again, and her insistent firm lips continued, unwitting torture, to strip all of his come, chasing thrills all up and down the fat bouncy flesh, and not toying with it, either. Her fingers agitated her pussy; she sucked with a will.
“I need a fuck, yo, you gotta fuck me right now, yo!”
“Let me eat you; you don’t realize–“
Kittie hesitated, reorienting. She let him go and pushed him to the side so she could sit again. “That’s right! Yeah! Oh, c’mon, c’mon, come on! Get it, baby, get that thing, yo, I need it bad, oh Jesus, you so nice, Jip, oh do it– mmmh.”
It seemed to the dazed Jip that they’d unplugged, turned and reconnected in an instant. Her fingers shook the fleshy mound above his mouth while he pulled her lips in for his grateful tongue. She was very ready, her nose still full of his scent and slick juices flowing from between the dark ruffles. Her heels rose and struck his back, sliding to his shouders, urging him in.
He slid fingers in, fucking. His tongue strummed her hard little button, her hand kept working the pad of hair back and forth under his nose, and his fingers jammed up along underneath her clit from inside. Sensations from every side, hard, tightly focused and frenetic– she bloomed explosively. It had built up like a skydive, all at once and accelerating madly. The come slammed her hard.
Jip had to throw a hand and arm across hers to hold down her bucking hips, but he got his revenge by carrying on with everything right through, no mercy. Her squeals and gasps were music to him.
She didn’t wait to recover speech, but slapped weakly at his ear and pushed at his forehead. The two young people collapsed then, just where they were. It was silent but for their breath, they each still tingled and twitched with remembered feelings, toes clenching and pelvic muscles pulling up, writhing a little with little sighs. The whole room smelled like sex.
“Cheryl crazy, to break up wid dat.”
They laughed. He pulled her to the floor for a hug.
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