Iceberg Slim Pimp Novels & Stories

“What kind of a place do you think I’m running?” SLAP! SLAP! Annie screamed some more. “Of course, I’m a pimp! I’m a high class pimp!” He roared. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “Pimp up for his girl, boy… and get me an endorsement!” He disconnected. Anger shot through my head. “ARGH!!” I slammed a fist on the wall. “I’M NOT YOUR BOY! You piece of shit!” And a paw glared back at me.

She was awash with a great sadness that furred her, numbing the margins of her mind. Slim laughed. “Wow, you look different. Cleaner, I think. Didn’t recognize you earlier—without the bikinis and your sexy ass on the strip pole.” Nat lunged forward and slapped him. Slim’s face snapped sideways, suspended for a moment. He smiled faintly, pressed a hand to his cheek, and nodded slowly, accepting the blow as total humiliation—defeat. Isla rushed to his side, instinctively defending her sugar baby. “And you are her bodyguard?” Slim sneered. “Good upgrade—John Cena,” he mocked.

“The League thinks I’m a monster. Sponsors are pulling. If I don’t humanize in 48 hours, I’m fined. Benched. Traded.” “Problem two: Hockey.”_ His eyes went silver again “I’m predictable. I lost because of it.” He paused as each proposal sent thrills and I watched him like a spectator. “You solve both.” "Me?" My voice was barely there as I gulped hard. “You fake-date me,” he enunciated like he was reading a contract. “90 days. We show up in the Public. Cameras. Charity galas. You call me ‘mine’ when the press asks.”

“Tell Dad, if he comes home that I am out in the pubs and tell him to not bother, I might hang with the pups tonight.” Ice Somber, is nineteen years old and devilishly handsome. He is an eye candy for his age, with dark hair and eyes that was as blue as the Caspian sea. However, he is a pain in the a** for his father. Standing five foot and eight inches, Ice is one of the local stars in the country. Not because he belonged to a very prominent family or a strong pack. He was a star in his own right. He races cars and dates celebrities and models as often as he changes his clothes and to top that off, he looks really good, rugged and smoldering hot. Suffice to say, he was ladies’ man and he wa

He didn't want to take It, because according to it it also owned a famous club house. “You are beautiful and your body shape is sexy sister, I will make you the main star in the club if you agree. Okay fine, if you want to think about it first. It’s fine, when you are ready and you have decided to earn heaps of money datung. Halla! You’ve got me!” That was the last thing he said to the girl, he thought she was easily dazzled by money. Only one person was impressed by what the gay pimp told him that he was beautiful and sexy.

I рrеfеr working аlоnе, but thе need for mоrе hеlр is urgеnt. I’m ѕwаmреd with my саѕеlоаd аnd іt’ѕ not lіkе trafficking wіll ѕtор аnуtіmе ѕооn. A gооd pimp wіll mаkе two hundrеd thousand a year frоm оnе girl. Thеrе’ѕ аlwауѕ a demand аnd nо rеаѕоn tо ѕhut dоwn ѕuсh a luсrаtіvе gаmе by сhоісе.

Coach Rimer did not believe in speeches. This was something you figured out fast if you played for him. Other coaches gave you the fire-and-ice thing before a season… big vision stuff, talk about legacy, maybe a quote from someone famous that they'd googled the night before. Coach Rimer walked into the locker room on the first day of real practice, put his clipboard on the bench, looked at us like we were a grocery list he was mildly disappointed in, and said: 'Skates on. Ice in five.'

" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Lilian's expression fell at once. She suddenly raised her voice and yelled at the door, "Ms. Summers is treating us worse than slaves! We're all just office workers who want to save a few pennies on healthier lunches! And yet, she's forcing us to eat her greasy, disgusting pig feed every single day! "She's only trying to keep up her reputation of being a 'good person'! She doesn't care about us at all!" Lilian's shrill voice was loud, and it reverberated across the entire office floor.

This time I held her up myself, taking up an icecube which I slowly inserted inside her soaking cunt. Her pussy swallowed the ice cube immediately and she shook, then let out a throaty moan. "You like that?" I rasped. She nodded. Like, really fucking nodded in affirmative. "You fucking slut." I growled and took up another ice cube which I slowly fucked her with this time. Then, I took out my dick and began to rub the length, up and down repeatedly until we were moaning together. When I was done with her clit, I took up another ice cube and rubbed her ass with it. She whimpered loudly in relief at the soothing sensation, then pushed her ass further into my hand.

“What’s pathetic is getting everywhere in life because of your last name rather than your own merit.” There it is again, the twitchy, burning sensation from his accusation. It radiates from my core, twisting and curling all the way down my extremities until I’m wound so tight, I might burst at the seams. A vise that tightens around my self-control with every mention of my last name or family. Because I am not my uncle, nor my father. And I’m fucking sick of the world playing this little comparison game. “I was the one out on that ice tonight, Beckett. Not any other Orlov.”