“Damn, that’s cold. But I gotta respect it. So, can a nigga at least get a number to get at you so we can at least stay in touch?”
“Nope,” I say, smiling. “If and when I wanna ride that dick again, I’ll call you. And if you can follow instructions, then—and only then—will you get the digits. Until then, you enjoy the rest of your night.” I open the door and wait for him to leave.
He laughs. “You a real raw chick, but I dig your style.”
“You got a chick?” I ask, taking in the veins that run along his magnificent biceps.
“Nah, baby,” he says, stepping into his crisp white Air Force Ones. “I’m riding solo at the moment.”
“Then that’s even better,” I state, walking over to him all slow ’n sexy-like. I pull him into me, then grab him by the back of the neck and place my lips flush to his ear. “I can slow fuck you all night, and not have to worry about sending you home too drained to fuck wifey.” I lick his earlobe, pressing my still wet pussy up against his thigh. “Squeeze my ass.” His hands slide down my back, rest on my ass, then squeeze a chunk of my ass.
“Yo, you getting my dick hard again; you know that, right?”
I pull away from him. “Have a good night,” I say.
“So,” he says, licking his lips, “what happens if I happen to be in the neighborhood and stop by?”
“You don’t get in unless I invite you, so I wouldn’t waste time and gas making the trip if I were you.”
He smiles, shaking his head. “Your way or the highway, is that right?”
“Absolutely.”
“You have a good night, beautiful,” he says, finally walking out the door. I stand in the doorway and watch him get into his silver Grand Cherokee Jeep. Once he backs out the driveway, I close the door and lock it.
I saunter into the kitchen, famished. I heat up some leftover chicken lo
mein, then sit at the table, wondering how many men and women actually know the difference between sensuality and sexuality. How many people do you think confuse the two? Does knowing the difference make them better lovers? Does not knowing make them terrible lovers? I ask these questions in my head as I eat.
Hmmm…I wonder. I know I appreciate and understand my own sexuality. I have learned to satisfy it without fear or guilt. And, tonight, I have finished indulging my carnal desires, and I will go to bed with my pussy well-fucked inside out. A smile forms across my face as I reflect on my night with Nelson, and all the others before him—and all the ones that will be after him.
The thought of placing an imaginary ad for sex takes up space in my head. It reads:
This is for all of the unknown men I’m going to eventually fuck: How big is your dick, daddy? Is it cut and thick? Do you have big balls? Mmmm…I love being on my knees sucking thick, black dick and big hairy balls filled with sweet, thick cream. So tell me. Are you up for a pair of soft, full lips wrapped around your dick and a warm tongue lapping at your balls? Are you ready for a hot, juicy pussy locked around your cock? If the answer is YES, then you might want to come see me this morning. I’m sucking and fucking ’til noon. Signed, sealed & ready for delivery!
Fuckfully yours,
The Man Handler!
The idea alone has me laughing out loud, hysterically. I shut off all the lights, and make my way upstairs with thoughts of all the endless possibilities of living, loving and learning all there is about life—exploring my sexual desires and expanding my freaky pleasures.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Again, I awake sweating, panting and wetter than the Nile. I’ve had another dream. And this time, the strangest thing happens. A man old enough to be my father comes to me, pulls me into his embrace, kisses my lips, then slides his tongue into my mouth. He strokes my titties gently, kneading and kissing and licking and pulling on them as if he is trying to milk each one. Instantly, my pussy quivers and juices. His hand slides up my silk nightgown, and he lightly brushes his fingers along the slit of my wet pussy. He slips one, then two, of his big fingers inside of me. Finger-fucks me until my pussy bubbles and boils over. Oh my GAWD! I need him, want him. I reach for his crotch. Grab and stroke him. Feel his cock swell and lengthen between the fabric of his pants and underwear. He grabs and palms my ass, gently pulling open my cheeks. Mmmm.
The whole time in my dream, his face is a blur, but everything else about him is vivid and clear. I tug at his belt, unzipping him. I dig my hand down into his boxers, then pull his big dick out, and cup his heavy balls. I don’t have a ruler, but my mental ruler stamps his cock in at nine inches. It is thick, with big veins running along the top and on the right side of it. I drop to my knees, take him in my mouth, and suck him until my pussy screams and throbs and begs to be fucked.
He tells me to get up and to lie back on the bed so he can pound my snatch with his cock. “Ooooh,” I moan, doing as I am told. I am turned on by his authority. He is demanding and forceful, and it causes blood to rush to the tip of my clit. He pushes his dick inside of me, plunges deep into my honey well and fills me with excruciating pleasure. My pussy muscles wrap around his dick and grip him with each thrust. He moans. I moan. We moan together. Groan together. And, then we cum together.
When we finish, I lean back on my elbows, thighs wide apart, and pull open my wet, sticky pussy so that he can see the pinkness of my well-fucked hole.
“I love how your curly hair is plastered down and stuck together over and around them thick pussy lips.”
Droplets of his thick, creamy nut oozes out of my tight hole, and my faceless daddy buries his face between my legs and licks the center of my pussy, sucking on my clit, shoveling his long tongue deep into me and slurping up his nut. I almost faint. This old thick dick, mack daddy eats his cum out of me! Oh, it turns me the fuck on, and I cum again and again, and again!
Damn him! Damn this dream! I want me a cum-eating, freaky assed man with a big, old-seasoned cock to fuck me, then eat his nut out of me, just like dude does in my dream. Oh, I’m so fucking horny! I’m going to close my eyes again, and hope I can summon him up in another dream. So…here’s to good dick and sweet cum!
My pussy is wet, and I am tossing and turning in bed with two fingers pressed on my clit in an attempt to bust a nut. You would think that having been fucked by Nelson earlier in the evening would have been enough. Well, it’s not. The problem is, my dream has me so worked up, that I need more. And these fingers are not going to cut it, nor will a damn dildo. I need to be fucked with a dick attached to a man. I want to feel a dick up in my guts. No chit chat. Just straight up rough, sweaty fucking. I mean. I want a man with his dick hanging out of his boxers (and a pair of Timbs strapped on his feet) to walk up in here bare-chested, throw me down on the bed, beat this pussy up, fuck me cross-eyed, then walk the hell out. Is there anything wrong with that? Hell, no…not a damn thing!