The Quinceañera - Chapter 4
In a single-wide manufactured home, Jordan Bowling lay back on the bottom bunk of the twin-over-full combo. The metal unit had a pewter color. It came from a big-box store - the inhouse brand. Jordan’s phone told him it was 12:19 a.m. He could hear his younger brother snoring from up above. He would’ve preferred his own room, but that honor was given to his sister.
Jordan thought about Ashanti. His loins ached as he envisioned her round bubble butt and supple budding breasts. He liked her lips too. Her loved the way she smelled. His cock grew. Now, it was throbbing at full mast - all 7⅞ inches. He pulled up an image of his favorite tranny porn star, Asha.
Jordan pulled an old T-shirt from underneath his mattress. He wrapped it around his tool and jerked off. He nutted as looked at the busty adult entertainer and dreamt of Ashanti.
Devon Stokes was also in bed. His bedroom was on the east side of the rambling one-and-a-half-story California mission revival style house. He stroked his thick 8-inch dick with no worries of being interrupted. His three older sisters were off at college or med school. His parents slumbered on the opposite side of the home. He conjured images of Ashanti in a two-piece bikini at a pool party. He could see her taut onion booty and pert, still blossoming tatas.
Devon was an ass man. He liked titiies too, but considered more than a mouthful a waste. He’d watched hundreds of flicks with flat-chested and small-breasted trannies getting banged. His mind replaced the lovers on the screen with him and Ashanti.
Devon groaned as he nutted in the sock, “Ashanti.” He closed the cover on his tablet and shut his eyes.
Ashanti moved into the fetal position. She snoozed unaware of the world around her.
Early the next morning, Lia Crockett, Ashanti’s mentor, sipped a glass of Chardonnay. She relished the dry, medium-bodied wine. She tasted papaya and pineapple. She noted a hint of vanilla indicating it had been oak aged. The 39 year-old spa owner and trans rights activist waited for her beau. She scrolled through options on her video streaming service. She heard a knock.
Lia opened the front door and smiled at the handsome fellow in front of her. She stretched up on her tippy toes as he hugged and kissed her passionately. She ran her slender, manicured fingers across his toffee-brown crew cut hair. After the embrace she stared into his light-brown eyes.
“I missed you, baby,” he remarked.
“I missed you too, Greg,” the woman intimated.
They sat on the couch.
Greg ran his rough hands along her silky glistening bronze colored thigh. “I’m in love with you.”
“I love you too, sweetie.”
“I’ve been thinking. Let’s just do this.”
“Do what?”
“Get married.”
“Are you proposing,” she asked.
“Sort of I guess. I mean yeah.”
“This is kinda out of the blue.”
“Not really. We’ve been seeing each other for over three years. Move in with me.”
“I would love to be your wife.”
“It’s settled then. We’ll get a ring this afternoon,” announced the firefighter who had just finished a 24-hour shift.
Lia’s large medium honey-brown doe eyes watered.
“Don’t cry, babe,” Greg pulled her into to his hard, sculpted chest. He stroked her long chestnut-blonde weave. “I love you. I mean it.”
“I know,” she sniffled. “I just didn’t think this day would really ever come.”
“Me neither,” he admitted. “But what are we waiting for? We’re both full-grown adults. My k**s are damn near grown. Well, at least they act like they are.”
Lia giggled.
“They like you. But who cares? They resent me half the time and only like me when they need money.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Babe, that’s like 95% of all teenagers.”
“True! Wanna join me in bed.”
“Only if I can carry you.”
She nodded.
The six-foot-one, 190-pound man with 15% body fat hefted his five-foot-seven fiancee. He took her to the bedroom and placed her on the mattress. He peeled off his T-shirt and made his flexed his pecs. He stripped down to his athletic boxers.
Lia removed her robe.
“Look at those tits,” he salivated.
Her swollen, rounded C-cup breasts heaved.
He joined her on the bed. He touched one of her boobs and placed his mouth the sensitive nipple of the other. “God, you’re hot!”
“Thank you!”
“And this ass,” he howled grabbing a chunk of each generously padded cheek. “You get me so hard.”
“Well, put it in me!”
Greg spat of his hand and rubbed his cock. He mounted her and entered her hole with his 7¾-inch member.
“Oh my god,” whimpered the bride-to-be.
“Yeah, babe! Let me get this pretty chocolate ass.”
“Yes, sir!”
“You love me, babe,” he checked.
“Very much so!”
“Are you gonna be my wife?”
“Yes, Greg! Yes!”
“Change your name to Mrs. Pike?”
“Oh shit yeah!”
Greg continued fucking her slow and deep. He felt her fingernails digging into his firm glutes and strong back. “Yeah, sexy! Hold on to your husband! Let Daddy make love to that tight tranny pussy hole!”
“Oh, Daddy! Oh, Daddy!”
“You’re about to make me nut!”
Greg rumbled onto the bed. He breathed heavily. “Damn! That was good!”
“I love you!”
“Love you too, babe!”
The 43 year-old passed out with his betrothed in his arms.
Back at the Zavala house, Ashanti and Gavin were eating cold breakfast cereal. Christina and Nanna Noemi were huddled at the table revising the seating chart for the quinceañera.
“Mama, are you dropping us off today or papa,” inquired the young lady.
“I am. We’ll leave in ten,” Christina replied without looking up.
“Go get your backpack,” Ashanti scoffed at her brother.
”You’re not my boss,” he retorted.
“Just go get it. I’m tired of waiting on you everyday.”
“Shut up,” he spooned more into his mouth.
“You shut up.”
“Both of you,” snapped the mother of two. “Hush! Now!”
Jordan thought about Ashanti. His loins ached as he envisioned her round bubble butt and supple budding breasts. He liked her lips too. Her loved the way she smelled. His cock grew. Now, it was throbbing at full mast - all 7⅞ inches. He pulled up an image of his favorite tranny porn star, Asha.
Jordan pulled an old T-shirt from underneath his mattress. He wrapped it around his tool and jerked off. He nutted as looked at the busty adult entertainer and dreamt of Ashanti.
Devon Stokes was also in bed. His bedroom was on the east side of the rambling one-and-a-half-story California mission revival style house. He stroked his thick 8-inch dick with no worries of being interrupted. His three older sisters were off at college or med school. His parents slumbered on the opposite side of the home. He conjured images of Ashanti in a two-piece bikini at a pool party. He could see her taut onion booty and pert, still blossoming tatas.
Devon was an ass man. He liked titiies too, but considered more than a mouthful a waste. He’d watched hundreds of flicks with flat-chested and small-breasted trannies getting banged. His mind replaced the lovers on the screen with him and Ashanti.
Devon groaned as he nutted in the sock, “Ashanti.” He closed the cover on his tablet and shut his eyes.
Ashanti moved into the fetal position. She snoozed unaware of the world around her.
Early the next morning, Lia Crockett, Ashanti’s mentor, sipped a glass of Chardonnay. She relished the dry, medium-bodied wine. She tasted papaya and pineapple. She noted a hint of vanilla indicating it had been oak aged. The 39 year-old spa owner and trans rights activist waited for her beau. She scrolled through options on her video streaming service. She heard a knock.
Lia opened the front door and smiled at the handsome fellow in front of her. She stretched up on her tippy toes as he hugged and kissed her passionately. She ran her slender, manicured fingers across his toffee-brown crew cut hair. After the embrace she stared into his light-brown eyes.
“I missed you, baby,” he remarked.
“I missed you too, Greg,” the woman intimated.
They sat on the couch.
Greg ran his rough hands along her silky glistening bronze colored thigh. “I’m in love with you.”
“I love you too, sweetie.”
“I’ve been thinking. Let’s just do this.”
“Do what?”
“Get married.”
“Are you proposing,” she asked.
“Sort of I guess. I mean yeah.”
“This is kinda out of the blue.”
“Not really. We’ve been seeing each other for over three years. Move in with me.”
“I would love to be your wife.”
“It’s settled then. We’ll get a ring this afternoon,” announced the firefighter who had just finished a 24-hour shift.
Lia’s large medium honey-brown doe eyes watered.
“Don’t cry, babe,” Greg pulled her into to his hard, sculpted chest. He stroked her long chestnut-blonde weave. “I love you. I mean it.”
“I know,” she sniffled. “I just didn’t think this day would really ever come.”
“Me neither,” he admitted. “But what are we waiting for? We’re both full-grown adults. My k**s are damn near grown. Well, at least they act like they are.”
Lia giggled.
“They like you. But who cares? They resent me half the time and only like me when they need money.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Babe, that’s like 95% of all teenagers.”
“True! Wanna join me in bed.”
“Only if I can carry you.”
She nodded.
The six-foot-one, 190-pound man with 15% body fat hefted his five-foot-seven fiancee. He took her to the bedroom and placed her on the mattress. He peeled off his T-shirt and made his flexed his pecs. He stripped down to his athletic boxers.
Lia removed her robe.
“Look at those tits,” he salivated.
Her swollen, rounded C-cup breasts heaved.
He joined her on the bed. He touched one of her boobs and placed his mouth the sensitive nipple of the other. “God, you’re hot!”
“Thank you!”
“And this ass,” he howled grabbing a chunk of each generously padded cheek. “You get me so hard.”
“Well, put it in me!”
Greg spat of his hand and rubbed his cock. He mounted her and entered her hole with his 7¾-inch member.
“Oh my god,” whimpered the bride-to-be.
“Yeah, babe! Let me get this pretty chocolate ass.”
“Yes, sir!”
“You love me, babe,” he checked.
“Very much so!”
“Are you gonna be my wife?”
“Yes, Greg! Yes!”
“Change your name to Mrs. Pike?”
“Oh shit yeah!”
Greg continued fucking her slow and deep. He felt her fingernails digging into his firm glutes and strong back. “Yeah, sexy! Hold on to your husband! Let Daddy make love to that tight tranny pussy hole!”
“Oh, Daddy! Oh, Daddy!”
“You’re about to make me nut!”
Greg rumbled onto the bed. He breathed heavily. “Damn! That was good!”
“I love you!”
“Love you too, babe!”
The 43 year-old passed out with his betrothed in his arms.
Back at the Zavala house, Ashanti and Gavin were eating cold breakfast cereal. Christina and Nanna Noemi were huddled at the table revising the seating chart for the quinceañera.
“Mama, are you dropping us off today or papa,” inquired the young lady.
“I am. We’ll leave in ten,” Christina replied without looking up.
“Go get your backpack,” Ashanti scoffed at her brother.
”You’re not my boss,” he retorted.
“Just go get it. I’m tired of waiting on you everyday.”
“Shut up,” he spooned more into his mouth.
“You shut up.”
“Both of you,” snapped the mother of two. “Hush! Now!”
5 years ago