Sweat and condensation slipped together as I was pushed against the bathroom wall sexily by Mingus. He had moved from ass to vag now, spreading my poopy to places unimaginable. "Unghagaga," I moaned, "Mingus! He's going to find out!" Charles stopped his thrusting, leaving his schlong motionless inside my puss-puss. "Who?" he asked, his voice unfaltering. I looked back at him with fear in my eyes, "Miles Davis." Mingus's eyes widened, their horny disappearing.
Suddenly, I felt a second, smoother dong brush my side. I looked up, and there was Miles Davis, naked and towering above us, his trumpet shaved, erect and curved. Just for me. He looked me in the eyes, "M'lady, who is this fat?" He gestured to Mingus, whose cock was still inside me but becoming more flaccid from pure terror. Never a good feeling.
"His name is Charles Mingus, and we're in love!"
"Play my trumpet."
"I said play my trumpet."
I nodded to Mingus, who then pulled out his now-one-inch bananer. I got down on my knees, stared into the eye of Miles Davis's peepee, and started playing. 'Twas a beautiful tune, aided only by Miles Davis's pleased scatting and singing. Mingus watched in awe. FInally, Miles Davis spoke."OH BABEY," he screamed. His gooey goodness squirted onto my watermelons, his stiff trunk making a little "brap" sound like a trumpet as he ejaculated. "Sheeeeeeeeeesh," sheeshed Mingus, his jaw dropping to the floor, "Why didn't you tell me?" I flushed and wiped the coom off my bosom, "Never CAME up, I guess, haha!"
The three of us chortled harder than ever while we got our clothes back on, chatting about the jazz club's show schedule for the following week as well. But as we turned to walk out, we noticed the door was open. Behind us stood a man in a strange, flat-brimmed hat. "Someone say babey?" the odd one inquired.
"I said babey when I ejaculatedy," replied Miles Davis.
TO BE CONTINUED....