A Latin King

There was a knock on the door at 3 p.m. Shanequa was out, minding her charges. But this was an expected appointment anyhow. Elizabeth opened the door, her belly three months along with Lamar's spawn, to see a heavily tattooed, heavy muscular Latino man at the door.

"I heard you were knocked up," he said, his brown eyes gleaming.

"Hello to you too," Elizabeth mumbled. "I'm Betsy."

"Sergio," the man responded. He was 6'2, with a menacing countenance.

"So," Elizabeth said, dispensing with the pleasantries. "Your lackeys said you had an offer."

"I do," he said, glowering at the term 'lackey.' "Your girls have their vices, and those have been ... not fulfilled the way you'd like."

That much was true. The nose candy and weed supply had been interrupted by the recent appearance of a violent Latino gang a neighborhood over. Headed by Sergio as a matter of fact.

"I'm listening," Elizabeth said.

"I could ... restore that supply," Sergio offered. "And I could make sure your girls are safe from the violent types around these parts."

"How very kind of you," Elizabeth said. She'd appealed to Lamar for help, but fearful of sparking a broader conflict that got them all in trouble, he'd told Elizabeth to resolve the situation herself. And as a woman not prone to ****, that meant deescalation. "And what would you ask in return?"

"Companionship for my men as needed, gratis," Sergio said.

"And?" Elizabeth asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Companionship by their boss for me, as needed." Ah. So that was it. Sergio needed a place to drop his wick now and then.

"But I am knocked up, as you've so helpfully pointed out."

"And yet there is no ring on your finger," Sergio rejoined. Elizabeth nibbled her lower lip. Well, she was a ho after all.

"Sure," she said. "Let's see what you've got then."

Sergio walked over to her, picking her up off the chair and carrying her easily to the bedroom. His dark, implacable eyes stared deep into Elizabeth's own, into her soul. He laid her onto the bed, stripping himself efficiently. He had a strong ass, and a dark brown eight and a half inch cock. He was silent as he stripped her, appraising her as he revealed her heavy alabaster breasts, her waxed cunt, her pert, growing ass. He spread her thighs, pausing to taste her sex, her breasts, her mouth. Elizabeth had never had a Latino lover, she belatedly realized. It wasn't so different than a Black one perhaps. Amorous and hungry for a white woman as herself.

He was a capable fuck, lasting a full forty minutes inside her, his big balls pounding loudly at her asshole, the bed straining under his ****. He didn't bother pulling out, cumming deep inside her. It was a Bull's confidence, she knew -- he knew he couldn't get her pregnant, and he knew from her elevated standing that she wasn't a common street whore. And he knew he could get that pussy now, whenever he wanted. It was a business partnership of the best sort for Sergio.