Into the Fold

Jabo was the paranoid type. So he and Elizabeth were a hundred miles away from home, on a dirt road off a dirt road off a dirt road, rap music playing just loud enough.

"So, our New York contacts bring in the ****. We get the girls from University, Tank runs the protection racket. Dick and Johnson manage the **** distribution. Lamar runs the strip clubs," he said, running his finger's through Elizabeth's full mane as her soft, glossy lips glided up and down his big black cock. It seemed easier to get him to talk with his cock in her mouth. But most men were more amenable to things in such a position. She pulled his cock out of his mouth, a thick rope of saliva connecting her mouth to his shaft.

"So what does a legitimate Jabo look like?" she asked.

"Strip club, no pimping. Definitely no ****. Probably no protection. I'd like to get a casino, though those honkies in the capitol would probably never go for it. I dunno. Maybe be a sports agent? That'd be tight. Shit girl, your head game is fire," he said, as Elizabeth bottomed down on his bull prick. That was enough for now, Elizabeth thought, as Jabo got back on the road towards home, his intended giving him the best blowjob of his life.