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I laugh at the innuendo, end our conversation, and finish my workday.
I’m so glad it’s quittin’ time. Wednesdays are always filled with meetings and conference calls. With my manager out of the office on business, the staff is more laid-back but the work never ceases.
Finally, it’s five o’clock and my day is over. I drive home with the sunroof open, windows down, thinking about carpooling with Bishop tomorrow. I wonder what naughty tricks he has up his sleeve? I know I plan to have a couple of my own. I laugh at my mischievous thoughts while paying little attention to the road. Oh shit! I jerk the car to the right, cutting in front of an old Honda Civic barely making my exit. Whew, that was close.
Keith greets me at the front door with a hug and a delicious kiss when I enter the two-story, 5,000-square-foot home he bought shortly before we met a year ago. He says it’s a real estate investment and when it’s time to sell the house and invest in something larger, he wants me to be ready to join him. He often speaks of our future together and I wish with all my might that I could be totally happy with him. I just gotta find some kind of way to get past my stumbling block—his small rod.
Keith does well for himself as a record producer and distributor for underground rap artists. He’s like an educated roughneck. He applies his 1997 bachelors degree in business administration from Towson State to his music business, making deal after deal, most to his advantage. I admire his sound business mind and how careful he is with his finances. He doesn’t blow his money like a lot of young brothers who are getting paid. He’s intelligent, handsome, built, and more generous than any other brother I’ve dated. Every time I offer to pay half the mortgage, he denies my attempt. He only asks that I pay the utilities and groceries. It’s a sweet deal if I may say so. But there’s one thing I know for sure about Keith—don’t ever cross him. He’s got a mean streak that is respected by many in his business. I guess he’s gotta have that edge to be successful.
Occasionally, Keith asks me to review contracts, especially when he’s questioning his own attorney’s decisions. I don’t mind, particularly because we work well together. Our situation is perfect, except he’s not the best lover I’ve ever had—not because he doesn’t know what to do, but because of his small pecker. But for now, until I figure out how to improve our situation, I’m gonna continue to bank every penny I can, so that if things don’t work out with him, I can buy my own house.
“Hey, baby, how was work? Sit down and let me rub your feet.”
We sit in the family room waiting for the Chinese takeout he ordered. I look into his dark-brown, cheerful eyes and for a split-second feel a moment of guilt as I remember Bishop’s hard dick exploding in my aching pussy. The thought of Bishop’s cock overtakes my guilt and I’m horny as hell again, desiring another bottom-out feeling. I want Keith to be able to reach my cervix, to pound it like Bishop does. I sit up, straddle his lap, and kiss him passionately to get his engine going; that doesn’t take long. He is usually always ready for sex. He practically rips my blouse off, and throws me backward onto the sectional sofa. He kneels on the floor, yanks my skirt and new panties off, grabs my ass and pulls me closer to him. He throws my legs over his shoulders and eats my center meat so hard that I instantly cum.
“You like that, baby?”
I moan, “Yes, Keith.”
“Who’s your man?”
“You are, sweetie.”
“Who takes care of you?”
“You do, Keith.”
“That’s right. Remember that shit.”
He drops his pants, climbs on top of me, and straddles my face, letting his dick and balls hang into my mouth. He lowers himself onto my face and I take him whole. I suck his small dick like it’s the best thing since sliced bread. He’s moaning so hard I know he’s getting ready to cum. I squeeze his cock with my hand and slap it on my face. I deep-throat him again. I want my pearly shower. Please, Keith, just this once, let there be a rainy season, I silently hope. I feel the blood rushing harder to his dick. I suck harder and wetter. I keep his cock close to my face. Please, oh please, let this be our first. Keith moans as he grabs the back of the sofa. I think he’s gonna stay over my face. I’m so excited, I moan with anticipation. He humps my mouth with hard, deep strokes as if the moist palette is my wet box.
“Oh shit, Connie, I’m gonna cum!”
I don’t stop; I can’t wait to share this moment with him.
“Connie, don’t stop, baby.”
Doesn’t he know I don’t intend to stop?
“Damn, Connie, this shit feels so good!”
Almost there, I tell myself. He starts to quiver and I suck harder. He convulses and I beat his meat deliberately with one goal in mind—my man is gonna cum on my face. Yes, finally, I can’t wait! A few more strokes should do the trick.
“Fuck!” Keith yells.
“Hell to the no,” I scream. We’re both pissed at the sound of the doorbell and the Asian guy hollering, “Chinese delivery.” Keith tries to finish his last crucial strokes but it’s useless. His concentration is further broken by the loud slam of the brass doorknocker. Being the protector that he is, Keith ceases our moment of truth to answer the door.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I gotta get that,” he apologizes, then scrambles for his pants. I lie on the sofa disappointed as hell. I can’t believe this. The one damn time I have him at the breaking point, fuckin’ Ming Lee shows up at the door. Disgusted and unsatisfied, I get dressed and join Keith in the kitchen.
“Why did you put your clothes back on, baby? I ain’t done with you yet,” he informs as he places the delivery bags on the granite cook island. He walks me back to the sofa, stripping my clothes as we venture to pick up where we left off.
“Lay your sexy ass down,” he says with a playful smile.
I oblige him kno
wing that the worst is about to happen. He enters my deep cavity and I can barely feel him, but I kiss and suck on his chest and neck to make him feel good. I can’t let on that anything is wrong. He fucks me wildly and I go with the flow as usual. I moan and pretend like it’s good to me. If I’m lucky, he’ll cum quick. I’d much rather that he eat me. I always cum and get pleasure out of that. But this business about his dick in my pussy has got to get better, but how?
Keith grunts intensely, rapidly shakes his right foot like the little rabbit Thumper in the old Walt Disney movie, indicating that he’s cumming. I hug and kiss him, making him feel loved and wanted. I know he can’t help what he’s blessed to work with.
