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Pump, pump, pump!
Choo-choo!
“Mmmmm . . . motherfuckin’ pussy so wet; so tight . . .”
“Will you shut. The. Fuck. Up! You’ve said this shit already!” I hear myself screaming at the top of my lungs. Instead I grunt. And groan. And this only encourages him to pound harder, causing the headboard to slap mercilessly against the wall. I start counting in my head. One, two, three, four . . .
I remind myself that Kareem is a good man. He’s hard-working. Articulate. He’s good-looking . . . no scratch that. He’s fine as hell in all of his chocolate glory! He has a beautiful body and a nice, thick, smooth chocolate dick to match. He’s never beaten me, or disrespected me. And, as far as I know, he hasn’t fucked anyone else. He’s thoughtful and generous with his time and money. But . . .
Five, six, seven . . .
“Oooh, yesss . . . fuck me with that big dick, baby . . .”
Usually talking dirty gets him off quick, but today he’s determined to make sure I get mine. And I will, not because of him though. It is my imagination that will cause my pussy to spasm and explode. In my mind’s eye, I am being fucked and made love to, simultaneously—if that‘s even possible—by another woman.
Eight, nine, ten . . .
My female lover is faceless. But her skin is like smooth, dark chocolate wrapped around a toned, well-defined frame. She is not muscular, not manly. Not butch. No, definitely not! She is feminine and pretty, yet—at first glance—traces of masculinity cause one to pause to wonder her sex. Androgynous, that’s what she is. Sexy and alluring.
In my mind’s eye, I am back on my knees, wiggling my perfectly-shaped apple-bottom ass back and forth, clenching my pussy and ass as my lover’s tongue caresses my crack in slow, wet licks. “Ohgod, yes,” I push out in a deep, hot, sensuous purr. “Fuckmefuckmefuckme . . .”
Eleven, twelve, thirteen . . .
My lover and I have changed positions again. I am back on my stomach. I imagine Kareem’s thick, black dick being replaced by delicate fingers. One finger, then two, then three plunge deep into my pussy. I am so wet. Each time my imaginary lover pumps into my wetness with her hand, my pussy makes a delicious, slurping sound. Her knuckles slap against my cunt juices as it splashes out. She fucks my pussy as hard as she can, leaning forward and slipping her tongue between my parted cherry-glossed lips. I have never kissed a woman on the mouth before, let alone having her tongue in my mouth. But I imagine it being a hot, hungry, sweet-tasting kiss. I moan again. Her soft lips caress my skin as she kisses her way down my neck, leaving a trail of wet desire—and an even wetter, more urgent need, between my thighs.
Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen . . .
My eyes snap open as Kareem practically yanks his cum-slicked dick out of me, leaving my pussy open and restless. I am almost on edge with excitement that, maybe, he is finally finished. That he’s going to shoot his thick, hot load all over my stomach and titties, then roll over and pass out snoring. To my dismay, he isn’t and he doesn’t.
He glances up at me. “I’ma eat the fuck out this pussy, baby.”
Oh really? When?
To keep from saying what I am thinking, I grunt, again, as he buries his face back between my legs, slides two thick fingers into my slit while flicking his tongue across my clit. There was a time when this was enough. Before the fantasies invaded my mind, before curiosity robbed me of my senses and had me longing for something more.
“Damn, baby, your pussy tastes good.” Kareem’s hot breath tickles the opening of my pussy as he speaks. “You so wet and juicy.” His tongue goes in deep, brushing my walls with a swirling lick. I shudder as his tongue becomes her tongue. His touch is now hers. My pussy lips are wet and swollen. My clit engorged with electrifying excitement as her tongue flicks over and over. And, for the first time in a long time, my toes curl. My body feels flush. My cunt aflame, I reach between my legs and rub my clit harder and faster as Kareem—no, my imaginary lover—licks my pussy. Blood races to my head as another wave of pleasure shoots through me.
I scream. Clutch the sheets. I am on the brink of coming. Kareem’s tongue is replaced by his cock. He lunges his hips forward, the head of his curved dick enters me. I welcome him back in as he pushes the length of it all the way in, then pounds, and pounds, and pounds. He beats my pussy, causing me to yell out. “Ohgod, yes! Uhuhuhuh . . . oooh . . .!”
Nonstop grunting, he reaches beneath me and squeezes my ass cheeks together. My pussy squishes and splashes against each rapid stroke.
Choo-choo!
Choo-choo!
I scream again. I am coming!
“Aaaah, fuck yeah . . . you like that shit, don’t you . . .? You like how daddy’s fat dick’s fuckin’ them guts . . .?”
“Yesss! Oh yessss, baby . . . fuck this wet pussy! Fuckmefuckmefuckmeeeee . . .”
Kareem grunts. Two-hundred-and thirty-six dick strokes later, and it’s finally over. He thrusts in deep, one last time, digging his fingers in my ass, filling my cunt with his cum. A few seconds later, he rolls off of me, lies on his back panting. He turns and faces me. A grin stretches across his sweaty face as he runs his hand over my ass and gives it a squeeze. God, he’s so fine. “Damn, Tavia,”—my name’s Octavia, but everyone calls me Tavia for short—“your pussy was wetter than usual. My baby musta been extra horny for this dick.”
I glance down at my man’s thick, wet cock, then stare into his brown eyes. He loves me. He’d do anything to protect me and provide for me. I just wish he satisfied me in the sheets. Still, he is the man that I have had more than my share of ups and downs with—knowing that our love, or perhaps our obsession, for each other is what always brings us back to one another. I don’t have the heart to tell him that my juicy pussy isn’t because of him. I simply lean over and kiss him lightly on the lips, then roll over on my side and allow myself to get lost in his strong arms as he pulls me into him, grinding his sticky dick into my ass. I close my eyes and smile as sensual thoughts of another woman—her sweet, pungent aroma mingling with my own juices—takes shape in my mind. I breathe in the image, slowly drifting off to sleep.
***
“Octavia, giiiiiirl,” Sheena, one of my nearest and dearest friends, says popping her gum in my ear. “I am so damn stressed. I need to get out of this damn house and away from Dante’s black ass before the cops have to escort me up out of here.”
