Killmonger's One-Shot Collection

Return from Vegas

"Get it all out now because once we're married, that's it," you'd told him. But he'd already gotten it out. Before the two of you were official, he'd slutted and been slutted. Threesomes, orgies, kink, he'd done it all and was ready for a life transition into something a little more permanent. According to you, you were too. Going to Vegas without you felt disrespectful.

"Just go! Have fun," you told him. You meant it.

"Nah. I'm straight." He meant it.

"Your friends already planned and bought your ticket. They're excited. You should give them this before you shut down on their shenanigans forever," you pressed. His friends respected you, and you had a mutual respect for them, which Bakari appreciated. Taking that into consideration, he took your advice and accepted the flight to Vegas.

Out the gate, they were rowdy, his boys excited and ready to get into some cuddy. They started in the casino, playing roulette and slots. Bakari wasn't a gambler. He found his way to the food and had a time with three orders of food sitting on the table in front of him. That's how his boys found him, rubbing his stomach with empty containers.

"Get your fatass up," they laughed. He was content to sit there until they mentioned a magic show. Suddenly, they were all kids running through the halls past shops and stands. Bakari wanted to be part of the show so bad that they chose him, and it made his day.

As for the night, he was taken to a club where he danced with beautiful women. He still wasn't getting loose enough for his boys' liking. They bought him his own bottle to get him lit. He texted you for an excuse to get him out of it, but you doubled down instead. He sighed.

"I guess I'm thotting the weekend," he toasted.

Liquor in his system made him frisky. His lips were loose, his movements were loose, and his words were slick. Women gravitated to him, looking to have a good time of their own. He gave them one, but they wanted to fuck. He told them he was engaged, but that only made them bolder. He let them kiss and feel on him in the open, getting a feel for what he was working with. It would have been an easy lay, but he simply was not interested, even drunk. He only saw your face.

The sex occurred back in the hotel room when they wanted to come back with him and his boys to get freaky. He sat it out, which meant some of the girls left. Sadly, one of his boys got 0 play from it as they weren't attracted to him. That wasn't Bakari's business.

That weekend, Bakari saw a magician, a show of celebrity impersonators, burlesque, and strippers.

Fresh off the return flight, Bakari and his boys met up with a few other male friends at a local strip club. Everyone left behind wanted to live vicariously through his stories as usual. They begged to know what went down in Vegas.

"That stays in Vegas," he teased over drinks. "Besides, it's nothing I haven't already done."

"My nigga!" "You dirty dog!"

He ended up folding and giving them every raunchy detail down to the color and fabric of the stripper's thong in his lapdance gone cowgirl. They didn't recognize he was only describing one of the strippers present and lying.

"Why can't this shit happen to me," one friend asked, looking around. Bakari didn't have the heart to tell him all the reasons.

"I'm a step away for a second," he gestured to his phone, excusing himself to find a quiet place for a phone call. He called you. "How's your party going?"

"Huh?"

Bakari smirked, happy to hear your friends screaming and the loud music on your end.

"How's your party going," he repeated louder.