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Big hands.
Big feet.
My god!
And here I sit, staring this cocoa-brown man with the deep dimples and smoldering brown eyes in his face, sharing a cozy table for two, forcing myself to stay in the moment. Not that being here with Jarrod is a bad thing. It’s just that my mind keeps wandering back to my weekend at the cabin with Karalyn. I can’t seem to shake it. I can still feel her hands on my flesh. The way they journeyed over my body, kneading my breasts, my ass. I can still feel her lips pressed against mine; her tongue searching my mouth, my pussy, my erect nipples. Her wet pussy on my tongue, her clit pulled into my mouth, I can still taste her. Can still feel her warm body against mine, her pelvis grinding into mine—our clits slipping and sliding against each other’s, swelling with excitement, aching for release. I can smell her. Her wet, excited pussy stained on my senses.
She has been burned into my memory.
Damn her!
I’m not a lesbian. I love dick!
Then why is your pussy soaking wet, thinking about face-fucking another woman?
I bite down on my bottom lip.
“Did I tell you how lovely you look tonight?” Jarrod says, cutting into my scandalous thoughts.
I blink my attention back to my date. He is staring at me. Lost in my dirty images, I was absentmindedly staring at his lips but now I’m blushing back my embarrassment as I realize that he is returning my gaze with the same intensity. “Huh?” He repeats himself, causing me to smile. I bat my lashes. “Um, let’s see. Not in the last”—I glance at my watch—“forty minutes you haven’t.”
He laughs, causing his eyes to sparkle. “Hey, what can I say? I’m a sucker for a beautiful woman.” He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “And you, Miss Ava Wilson, are one helluva beauty.”
My face heats. And, surprisingly, I find myself getting extremely turned on by the direction of our banter. Thoughts of Karalyn are quickly evaporating, replaced by naughty notions of Jarrod’s mouth and tongue sucking on my sensitive nipples that have been swollen with lust for most of the night, threatening to poke holes through my lace bra had I not been trying to conceal my arousal by keeping an arm folded across my chest. Images of Karalyn’s legs up over my shoulders and my face pressed between her smooth thighs are now replaced with me grinding my cunt on Jarrod’s tongue. Fucking his face, riding his lips. Visions of me climbing underneath this table, unzipping his pants, then fishing out his dick and sucking the cum out of it, draining his balls until they shrivel up like two sunbaked prunes have replaced the ones I was having of Karalyn and me performing fellatio on each other in the sixty-nine position. She atop of me while my arms wrap around her hips as I pull her pussy into my mouth, burying my eager tongue into the back of her slit.
I wonder if he has a big dick.
My pussy tingles.
I collect my thoughts, taking a slow sip of my drink in an attempt to squelch out the fire burning between my legs. I see myself leaning over into his lap while he drives me back to his place, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, sliding my fingers into the slit of his underwear and pulling out his cock, then taking his dick in and out of my throat, sucking him with an animalistic fervor I hadn’t known existed inside of me until now.
Damn her!
Damn him!
I eye Jarrod, teasingly. “And compliments, Mister Denson, will get you everywhere.”
Which is exactly what I’m hoping, I muse, pressing my thighs together. Thus far, the conversation between us has been safe—work, hobbies, travel, what we like to do in our spare time, stuff like that. But as the alcohol courses through my body and heats me and the images of my weekend with Karalyn take up space in my head, I’m feeling more bold and daring. My horny pussy is ready to be fed some dick. All the same, I can’t help but feel my panties moistening.
Oooh, yes…I’ma take this fine black man home and fuck the shit out of him. I’m long overdue for some hard dick!
Oh, God, I hope he can fuck!
Jarrod winks. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping. I am more than willing to be at your service.” He leans up in his seat, resting his forearms up on the table. “So, is that an invitation for what’s to come?”
I grin slyly. “Perhaps. The night is still young. Let’s see what happens after dessert.”
“Better yet.” He wriggles his thick eyebrows up and down. “How about we blow this joint, head back to my place, and make our own dessert?” The invitation is coated with thick desire. My pussy throbs at the sound of it, causing the sticky dampness between my legs to make me feel mischievous and slutty. I slip off my heel, then extend my leg out, resting my foot in his lap.
The look on his face is a mixture of shock and
pleasure. He glances around the cozy, candlelit restaurant. I have caught him off-guard. He slyly inches his crotch forward, spreading his legs, welcoming what’s to come.
“Sooo, tell me, Jarrod.” I purr, eyeing him seductively as I massage his crotch with the ball of my foot. His dick is long and thick. I smile to myself. “Are you seeing anyone? Do you have a wife and kids hiding away somewhere at home no one knows about?”
He chuckles, mindful to keep his voice low as he shakes his head. “Whew…um…damn…” He tries to keep his composure. He presses his legs shut around my foot. “No, no, none of the above. No wife, no chil…dren. And I’m definitely…not seeing anyone at the moment. And you are making this…very hard to think and talk.”
“Ooh, I like it hard. Nice.” I feel his dick thicken and stretch the fabric of his pants against my foot. “Mmmm,” I tease, licking my lips. “Very nice.” I let my manicured toes knead his aching bulge as his eyes sweep across my swollen breasts. He gazes at my hardened nipples, then zooms in on my cleavage ready to spill out of my low-cut blouse.
