The text comes, and I'm out the door. He has this power over me, this control that I cannot shake. My heart and cock throb in unison. My mind is focused on just getting to him. A simple text sends me out the door. This is how it is with us, how our relationship. He texts, I head over and he cums.
I lie to myself after each encounter. I tell myself every time that this will be the last time. I will not be at his beck and call for some ass. I would stop being his secret, his fetish, his private shame. I will steel myself. I will free myself from the hold he has on me. Like an addict, I head over again and again for him. I'll find myself standing at his door, like I am going to be tonight.
I obey his instructions. I park around the corner, so no one knows I am here for him. I steady my nerves at the door before opening the door and stepping in. I shut and lock the door behind me. This is our thing, our scene. I strip at the door. I follow the sounds of soft music. He's in his favorite spot for our little "dates." He's in the love seat facing the television. He's illuminated by the light of muted porn playing.
His mahogany skin is a sharp contrast to my own tanned skin. He's dressed, as always, in his oversized boxers. I admire his toned runner's build. At six foot, I stand a good eight inches over him. He might weigh one thirty, with ten pounds hidden in his brand name boxers. "Come on, baby." His low menthol tone breaks my lust haze. "He misses you. Why don't you give him a kiss?"
I fall to my knees and pull out his slab of meat. His nine inch beast is already salivating for me. My lips stretch across his mushroom head. I can taste his salty sweetness. "That's it, baby, make love to that black man cock." He runs his hands through my short black hair encouraging me to take more. I swallow him down expertly, my nose nestled in the fabric of his boxers.
My tongue snakes around the mouthful he is feeding me. My hands move up his thin toned legs as the fever lust takes over. He is mine once again, even if it is for a short time. I groan and moan around his cock. I expertly massage him down my throat. "You like that black boy dick, don't you?" He asks. I moan my affirmative while I bob up and down. I know this whole thug act is just that, but I won't ruin it for him. I'll be his fetish tonight.
He stands up. I fall back to on my ankles his cock pulling free of my mouth. I'm look up at him. I know what to do. I grab his boxers and pull them down. He smiles devilishly at me before I impale myself on his cock once more. I'm allowed now to reach around with my hands and feel those tight toned glutes. I take each handful and pull him into me, forcing him to fuck my throat.
I force him to thrust into me, slapping his balls against my chin. I gag myself on his thick cock. I savor the taste of him in my mouth while he drowns me with his precum. My nose buries into his trimmed pubes. I rut there for a moment, inhaling his sweet man smell. My hands are firmly gripping his tiny yet plump ass, keeping his cock wedged down my throat. He lets out a moan, gripping my head, for stability than force. I pull him back, allowing only the tip to linger on my tongue. I toy and flick over the slit. This elicits a low groan of appreciation from him.
I continue pumping him into my throat, teasing his tip between thrusts. His legs tremble with the physical joy I'm giving him. I can read his body almost as well as I can read mine. Without a word, I do as he asks, pulling off his cock. A wet slurp echoes in the room. I press his cock up against his belly. His ample balls dangle before me, taunting me with their gift.
I take both balls into my mouth, caressing them with my tongue. I give each their own special attention. His hand fists my hair, holding me willingly there. I fondle continue to fondle his sac with my tongue. They may belong to him every other moment, but tonight they are mine. His pleasure, my joy. I let loss a low hum of pleasure, vibrating his balls in my mouth. He gasps at my new little trick. Both hands are not fisted in my hair. My free arm goes around his thighs, to prevent him from falling as his knees buckle.
He pulls me back from his balls, the wet plop audible over the low music. He gives me that lustful grin. He pushes me back to the small mattress he has laid on onto the floor for us. I lay back naked. He stands over me naked, towering over me with that hot black monster dick swaying freely. I spread my legs, as he lowers himself onto me. He takes my hands and guides them above my head.
He gives me a rare treat. His lips press to mine, I part mine, allowing his tongue to slip in. Our tongues dance an intricate tango, with me following his lead. He brings his right hand down my arm slowly. His nails scraping lightly at the skin of the underside of my arm then my side. He's sending tiny bolts of orgasmic pleasure through me.
He breaks the kiss, and looks me in the eye. He's got a deviousness I know all too well. Not many can play my body, and I was now in the hands of an expert. He trails his tongue from my mouth to my neck. I cry in bliss. I buck up against him, but he holds me down. He draws small circles over my neck before going down lower to my left nipple.
