Harold stopped what he was doing and tried to reach around to his back to slap the mosquito that had stung him. The attempt was fruitless and the best he could do is limply slap his shoulder. Though he was able to send the mosquito buzzing off, he also banged his shoulder on Marianne's thigh causing her to jump up, startled.
"What are you doing there?" she asked, sitting up and running her hand through the thick dark curls on her head. Her eyes were puffy from sleep and one side of her face seemed darker than the other with the odd imprints from her pillow.
"The damn mosquitoes, that one bit me on the back,' he complained.
"I mean what were you doing down there on the floor between my legs?"
"Well, I still have an hour before I need to go to work and..."
She stared intently as he searched for just the right words to say. On a good day Harold could have quickly come up with some intelligent repartee, perhaps charming the large woman, but he was a bit hung over and apparently still weak from all the blood loss due to the mosquitoes so he simply let his reply hang there unfinished. The sight of her enormous black breasts resting on her stomach, glistening in sweat was a further distraction as he imagined running his tongue over the acres of wet flesh.
"And?" she said, intent upon forcing me to answer.
"Well, I just wanted another taste of you before I left for work and I thought..."
"You thought?"
"I thought I'd wake you up with a quick slip of my tongue."
"White boy, haven't you had enough yet, why after last night I figured you'd sleep for a week," she said, leaning forward and glancing down between her thighs. Following her gaze, Harold looked down at his cock, now hard and ready for action. "I guess I was mistaken," she continued. "So once you woke me with a slip of your tongue, what did you have in mind?"
"I wanted to make you come and then... well..." he paused.
"Now you've done pushed that lily white dick of yours into every hole this old black woman has, what you wanting now. Go on, spit it out."