His breath comes hard but without strain. His body is conditioned for far greater endurance, its the adrenaline that urges his lungs to gulp the air greedily. He glances over the outside enclosure to confirm his escape. A smile spreads lightly across his lips and a short wicked giggle is exhaled through his teeth. It’s done.

Trea is sitting outside a modest suburban establishment, in a white, 1964 Lincoln Continental, nervously fingering her Jennings .380 automatic pistol. She doesn’t know why they are there. She only knows that Michi had lightly kissed her fingers and told her to wait here and be ready. Ready for what? She could only take deep breaths to steady the chaotic rambling of her imagination. Domichi Keshon Smith was known for radical behavior that often ended with gunshots or deliverance of his ample male appendage. Trea’s face did little to hide her mental preparation for the latter. She unconsciously squeezed her legs together and ran the gun along the crevice between her thighs. The Customized Apple Bottom jeans were tight and the piercing in her clit transformed the touch of the Jennings to a feeling that instantly made moisture loosen the denim tightly gripping her pussy. She could feel the course material guiding her pussy lips to rub back and forth against the sides of her clit as she rhythmically squirmed in the front seat of the Lincoln. She could taste Keshon’s dick in her mouth. Pressing her tongue down in to her throat, tasting of the saltiness of sweat and adrenaline. "Mmmmmm", Trea unconsciously moaned. Just at that moment Michi opened the driver side door and got in the car. Trea snapped from her fantasy and met Michi’s suspicious gaze with a guilty pout. "I thought I told you to be alert!" he sternly stated. Trea dumbly raised her pistol and smiled the sweetest "come fuck my ass" smile only she cold do, and said "I am". Michi Let it go at that, it was written all over her face. Trea was one of the downest gangster bitches Michi had ever met, and he had met a few. But she had an insatiable sex drive and every freaky rendezvous is preceded by the quirky airhead personality she uses to play out her lack of sexual inhibitions. "What was that all about Keshon" mutters Trea in a singsong manner that seemed to sway with an almost imperceptible rhythm in her hips. Michi took a moment to consider her at a red light. She had called him Keshon. He subconsciously reacted to the pet trigger Trea had taught his dick. His conscious mind ignored the slight pressing feeling beginning to grow in his jeans. Instead he focused on the question Trea has asked and pulled away from the light. "That mother fucker owed us some money for the last job and I had to pick up the details on a new lick". "I’m getting an uneasy feeling about Pablo, he’s been trustworthy in the past but we kill him after this next gig is set up". The last mention of murder drove Trea’s urges over the diminishing lip of her self-restraint. She had already eased herself down, stretched sidelong in the roomy front seat of the Lincoln while Keshon voiced his plans and suspicions. Before he could react, Trea’s hands expressed the highly trained agility and precision of a killer, by unfastening his belt, unzipping his pants, reaching in to the front flap of his boxers, and exposing his man hood. Keshon’s dicks reaction time had been quicker than his conscious one and it fully unfurled from the space in the front of his pants. Trea tossed her hair to the side, got on her knees, ducked her head under Michi’s right arm, she anxiously took his dick in her hand and swallowed it. She pressed it as far as she could in to her throat and began to hungrily use her tongue to further pull his large, hard penis in to her throat like a Boa Constrictor devouring its prey. She began to swallow over and over again using her tongue muscle to massage Keshons erect penis. Michi flinched just a little and began to fall in to a euphoric trance. It felt so good. He could feel her entire head, mouth and throat wrapped around his entire dick, firmly pulling him deeper in to her stomach. How was she able to do this? "Only Trea… my sweetbaby Trea" he moaned without acknowledgement. The passing lights looking at him through the windshield began to fade to explosive colors flitting about the inside of his eyelids to the rhythm of Treas suck-swallowing technique. He could feel his head leaning, his breath coming in gasps every time the inside of her esophagus rolled across the sensitive reversed edge of his dick head. He could feel himself falling…falling in to the ecstasy of her head pussy. He was doing something important just a moment ago but it didn’t matter now… only this feeling. He heard someone saying "keep going, oooh, keep going" over and over again with his voice, his mouth, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered besides this feeling. HOOOONK!! Michi snapped from his sexual submersion and swerved the car back on to the right side of the road. He struggled to gain coherence against Trea’s relentless commitment to the days adventures in fellatio.