Once again, he started in with the kissing, but this time, I wasn’t as receptive. The impression was already embedded in my mind that he wasn’t even worth my time or effort. He did the nipple thing again, and I was bored.
Finally, he got to the bottom half of my body and started rubbing my vagina through the material of my pants. He pulled them down and off. I was thinking, About dayum time. He was finally gonna get busy and eat my coochie-coo.
Wrong! He started finger-fucking me. I wanted to tell him so badly that finger-fucking went out with bell-bottoms, Afros, and platform shoes, but I tolerated it, hoping it was all a means to an end.
Once again, I was wrong, so I decided to get the whole fucked-up situation over with. I got a condom out the box, slapped that shit on him, and rode him real fast until his ass came. He had the audacity to try to stop me, grabbing my hips and saying, “I don’t want to cum yet!” I wanted to say, “Fuck you!” But that would have been dumb, considering I was fucking him—lousy fucking, yet fucking all the same.
I finally got his ass out of there about midnight, after explaining to him why he couldn’t spend the night. I had an early meeting in the morning. I was too through and couldn’t believe I built his ass up in my mind to be some black Don Juan when he wasn’t ’bout shit.
You probably think I just took my ass to sleep depressed or went back to crunching numbers on my computer, huh? Nope! My ass was starving, since he and I never made it to dinner, and I hadn’t eaten anything except a bagel with cream cheese about 8 A.M.
I took a shower, got dressed, and went to check out this all-night diner. I had noticed it two exits away in the vicinity of the drugstore where I bought the condoms. What a joke! I should have left them bad boys in the store and had a V-8 instead.
The diner was practically deserted when I arrived at a quarter to one. It was a Tuesday, so most people were home snuggled in for a good night’s sleep, making love to their mates, or watching late-night repeats of talk shows like Jenny Jones and Jerry Springer. If it had been a Friday or Saturday night around the same time, I’m sure the place would have been packed with people that developed the munchies after a night at the movies or dancing and drinking at a club.
There were only a few other people scattered around at the tables—some black guy over in the corner suffering from an obvious case of jungle fever, a couple of teenage boys laughing loudly and trying to see which one of them could be more obnoxious than the other, and a black guy in a booth by the window who appealed to me right away.
Why he appealed to me, I’m not sure. He was attractive, but I see attractive men all day, every day. Maybe I was just still feeling horny, sexually repressed even. I still couldn’t believe that man talked mad shit about how he was gonna turn my ass out and managed to do nothing but turn my ass off.
The guy in the booth was very nicely built and looked very friendly. I sat there sizing his ass up while I waited for some ditzy waitress named Becky to bring my grilled chicken breast sandwich with fries. He was mocha with dark eyes, a sexy mouth, and juicy-ass lips. I imagined drawing the bottom one into my mouth and sucking on it. Next thing you know, I was wondering whether or not he had a big dick.
I snapped out of it when tactless Becky slammed my plate down hard and asked if I wanted a refill on my iced tea. I was tripping, sitting there fantasizing about freaking some man who had only stopped by a diner to get a bite to eat. He wasn’t thinking about my ass. Or was he?
As I was sitting there hitting the hell out of this bottle of slow-ass Hunt’s ketchup to no avail, I felt his eyes on me and looked up. Sure enough, he was staring dead at me. He smiled at me, I smiled back, and the wheels started turning in my head. I began to ponder exactly how scandalous it would make me if I picked this guy up and whether it would classify me as a certified hoochie if I did. I let out a sigh of relief when he got up from his table, placed a tip on it, and headed toward the front door.
The ball was no longer in my corner, since he was taking his ass home and going to bed. The night turned out to be full of surprises, because he paused at the door, which his hand was holding halfway open, allowing a cool breeze to come in, and then turned around and headed straight toward my table.
My heart started pounding a mile a minute. The shit was un-fucking-believable. He came up to me and said, “Excuse me. You have a minute?”
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I looked up at him and managed to utter one word, “Sure!” He sat down across from me and just stared me in the eyes, and I was a nervous wreck. He just sat there grinning at me for what seemed like an eternity. In actuality, it couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes.
Finally, he asked, “Aren’t you gonna eat?” I told him my appetite was gone, and I thought I was hungry when I placed my order, but it was much too late at night for me to actually eat. It was all bullshit, but there was no freaking way I was gonna have him sitting there watching me chew my food.
We started chatting about whatever. I told him about my career and he explained how he was stationed nearby in the military and had just gotten back to the states from a long assignment in Panama.
Then, he just happened to mention the fact he hadn’t had any pussy in a good while and wondered if he could have some of mine. I freaked. My first instinct was to cuss his ass out, but I didn’t. Instead I asked him what he meant by “have some.” He wanted to know what the hell I was talking about. I decided if his ass could be blunt like that, my ass could do the same thing.
So, I laid it out for him and told him how I expected this turn-my-ass-out, toe-curling sexual experience, and what had really happened instead. I told him how much I love my pussy eaten and how I felt like the shit I did a few hours before wasn’t even fucking. Then I asked him whether or not he just goes downtown to window-shop or does he actually purchase something.
He started laughing because of the way I phrased it. I asked him, did the laugh mean he wasn’t about shit either? He leaned closer to me over the table, took my hand, and adamantly stated that he loved to eat pussy and would love to eat mine. Again, I froze; I couldn’t believe the shit was happening. I left California to go on a business trip, and all I was worried about was having my coochie eaten.
After a few moments of silence, he inquired whether I was fronting or not. The man was dead serious about going down on me. He told me he would follow me back to my hotel room in his car and lick me clean. I couldn’t help but blush. Normally, I would have hauled ass and ran for the hills, but there was something about him. He had such a friendly disposition and seemed like a good old country boy who would eat me like a pot of chitterlings with Tabasco sauce.
I pondered and pondered while he waited and waited for a response, telling me to make sure I was comfortable with it before I made a final decision. Becky kept coming over, asking if we wanted anything else, and we both repeatedly said no. I think she was just being nosy. As empty as the place was, she knew we didn’t come in together and figured there was some freaky-deaky shit going on.
Finally, I decided I was a grown woman, and hell yeah, I did want my pussy eaten, was feenin for it even, so I told him to bring it on. He paid my check at the counter, left Becky a tip, and walked me to my car, asking one more time if I was sure. I told him I was very sure.
He followed me back to the room and chuckled when he saw the number on the door. It was three in the morning. Once inside, he told me straight up he wanted to see me naked. I took my clothes off, since there was no point in turning back.
After I was butt-naked, I got up on the bed and embarked upon the wildest oral experience I’ve ever had. The man was all about the pussy. He was a beast. First, he sniffed all around it like a predator in the woods seeking out some prey. He told me how much he loved my aroma and was glad I was clean. I asked him were there some women who really had bad personal hygiene habits. He replied with a loud “Hell, yeah!” telling me sometimes he could smell a woman’s pussy when he walked by her on the street because the odor was so strong and funky. I could do nothing but laugh and tell him I was glad I passed the inspection.
Then came the interesting part. Instead of just spreading my legs open and cleaning my clock, he positioned himself beside me on the bed, lifting my right leg up in the air and putting my thigh up on his back with his head facing toward my left thigh instead of directly at my clit. He lifted my left leg up in the air and pushed it outward so that my legs were spread wide apart and started eating me.
Boy, did he eat! All I can say is the man was starving like Marvin. I lost count of how many times I came. He was not lying—he loved eating some pussy, unlike the sexually disappointing fuck who had been on the very same bed not long before. After a while, my left leg, which was hanging out there in the air, started getting tired. I put it down on the bed. He immediately pushed it back up and told me to hold it there.
I wasn’t used to holding my leg up like that. Normally, the man’s shoulders would be holding them both up. Instead, his back was holding up my right one, and it was mad comfortable, but my left leg was having problems. He unzipped his jeans and guided my hand to his dick. I started jacking him off, even though that wasn’t in the contract. It was cool with me. I was kind of lying there with nothing to do with my hands, so what the hell.