He opened the door to his Infiniti and I hopped in. We gazed into each other’s eyes for an eternity, and as his foot pressed the pedal to the floor, we woke up, and cruised down Route 1 and 9. Small talk ensued, and the comfort level that had laid a foundation of love soared through the air, until those words parted from his lips, “I’ll always love you.”
A raging, untamable, hot, wet pussy screamed his name, and I crossed my legs to shut her the fuck up. His right hand rubbed up and down my thigh and landed on my love; he covered it with his hand, felt my heat, he smiled; I turned red, embarrassed. “That pussy is hot for me, already, Tia. I’m pulling over.”
I had no words for him. He was and still is the boss. I exhaled. He switched lanes. Ninety miles per hour. He drove to the nearest exit. I leaned in to kiss him. Gave him my tongue. He received it, gave me his in return. Nipples hardened. I planted my hand on his crotch. Rock solid, beautiful dick of a gorgeous black man, made me release. I exhaled in his mouth.
My face found its way to an unfastened zipper. I kissed the bulbous head of a dick that only arrived into my life straight from the motherland. Kissed it. Licked it. Sucked it. Loved it.
Parking lot. Corner space. Couldn’t get into the backseat soon enough. My legs wrapped around his neck and landed on his shoulders where they belonged. His hands ran up my thighs, hiked up my skirt. Pulled my panties to the side. Deep dick he gave me. He cried out as he entered me. We fucked each other like we were mad, happy, sad. We made love like we owed each other something. He stroked me like he was teaching me a lesson. I gave him back those glorious thrusts like I had to do it. Like a goddamn gun was pointed to my head, I fucked him, well, because he deserved it. He fucked me like I was his whore. Made love to me like I was his wife. Kissed me like I was the love of his life.
Damn, I remember the days . . .
“You are my family.”
“I know that, but you know what I meant, Tia.”
“I’m here with you. Savor the moment.”
“I am. It’s bittersweet. You’ll go to another once we’ve renewed our vows tonight,” he tells me as he smiles. It’s a nervous grin. I know he’s hurting.
“I’ll always belong to you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise, baby. Besides, no one can take you to flight like I can. I know you better than you know yourself.”
I stare in his eyes.
“You have fans in that corner over there.” He leans his head to the right, where there are two women, presumably lesbians from the way they’re curled up with each other in that booth.
“Is that right?” I ask, blushing from ear to ear. I saw them jocking earlier but gave it no energy.
“See, you turn everyone on.”
I smile, raise my martini glass to acknowledge them.
“Stop,” he demands, grabs my hand.
“Why?”
“I don’t want anyone loving you but me.”
“Have me any way you want to.”
“Word?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve thought about you all night. Dick gets so hard, just thinking about seeing you again.”
I smile. “I miss the sound of your footsteps as you walk toward my bed.”
“Your walls are imploring me to have my way with them, I just know it. Because no one knows that pussy the way I do. And no one satisfies it the way I can.”
I look to my right. My eyes meet with his thighs, and every ounce of me wants to lick those pretty, brown, muscular, strong thighs. As my eyes peer upward, the bulge sits fat and firm in between his thighs, awaiting my lips to suck it from root to tip and back again. Delicious, delectable, delightful dick, dares me to make its acquaintance once more; it wants and needs my undying and undivided attention.
Sweet cum pours from succulent and swollen pussy lips and fluidly flows onto my thighs. If he only knew how badly I wanted him to drink what I poureth, as my cup runneth over with a savory and slick, wet mess for him to devour.
“We’re on the other side of midnight, Tre’. Now what?”