I'm My Client's Bwc Sitter

BWC-Sitter series (Part 2) [I'm my client's BWC sitter]

Having your heart stolen is the nicest thing that can happen to you in life, that dry hit you feel when you realize that there is no turning back; you go to bed and wake up with that person in your head, you read, walk, look and think things that always find relation with him, that someone, in my case, was a boy who had caught my attention since day one and even today, after many months, it has only become more intense. I understood very late that I was involved in my worst dream, not a nightmare, I would be lying if I said it was something negative. It was my greatest but impossible desire; a child, a white child's face,who,without knowing it, had awakened in me the desire and the need to dedicate myself to his body and soul.

You don't realize it, and when you have the suspicion, you immediately discard it because you know it's not possible. I never wanted to go back in time, but if I had wanted to realize before that I had become the cocksitter of the most perfect white cock in this world, my clients cock.

His cock was not perfect as an idealization of the anatomy but of what it could do to me, with me, sending my brain in blackout and my eyes blank; maybe its taste of heaven, its semen with the consistency of a cloud or its smell of musk. It was a white cock, a white cock that demands, wants and has it without having to ask for it.

Over and over again life made me see that my capacity to lose my self-respect and morals was infinite; all the things that are considered serious and important took a back seat when it was about making him happy, to spoil him, to pamper him, to give him everything. I knew it was wrong, that it could go wrong, that the consequences existed, but I tried again and again to make him understand that he should not worry about that, that my role was to take care of everything, of him, of his happiness, even the erections in his dreams and the consequences that could arise from making him happy. That's what black women do.

My life was still my life but when he had an idea, an erection, a need, the rules changed. Was I on an important work call but he had an erection? He needed me, he demanded attention regardless of my professional obligations; so I offered him my mega breasts, two massive chunks of black flesh, not without first lubricating them, for his amusement. Like a kid doing homework and you have to distract him a little bit with something to make him happy to finish it because it's important, exactly like that. He didn't look at me, he didn't give me words of thanks, but the precum on the top of his sex, a pink sex indicated to me that he felt welcome between my two mountains of warm flesh, especially since I wasn't cooperating 100%, I was trying to do both things at the same time, I was fighting with my clitoris and my desire to get on my knees immediately I wanted to be black and fall, he had the face of one who already won, he already had the attention he needed.

And maybe you ask yourself, were you always available? He was your client. Of course not, many times I was at work, in a meeting or with a deadline looming; but he was there, and every time it happened, he went to the top of the list, it was a priority underlined and with arrows that demanded absolute attention from my tits, my sex, my hands, even my throat that expanded to fit him comfortably.

He didn't know it, but I could feel his incipient erection from a distance, I could feel the intrusive thoughts that ate his brain and incited him to interrupt me, those that assured him that what he felt was important and had to be attended to; I knew it because it was also what the voices in my head told me when, in the distance, I could smell his precum and immediately remembered its taste, warm, sweet, with a perfect consistency that ended up enveloping your mouth; when I would reach the end of some of those thoughts and I would dedicate myself to finish my work like the professional woman I was, he was already next to me, with his erection out and going over my face as if he was moisturizing it with the most precious lotion; he didn't talk to me, he didn't ask me, I knew he didn't gain anything by doing it, he was hateful, invasive, my serious face, my tight pussy, my left nipple already with little drops of milk, the computer in front of me, his cock throbbing and now the smell of it was all over my body. "No" I kept repeating to myself and to him, 'I can't', but at every opening of my mouth to emit sound, a bit of his glans came on my lips, a perfect lipstick, 'I told you no, not now please', were words that I didn't believe and he didn't care, everything was justified, he needed me and that was the strongest reason that could exist.

I hated how the acts evolved, I promised myself that the next time it would be different and I made him promise it too. But I loved to lose after I had resisted even with my fingernails, never giving up that position of "you know you're better than this" but when I had it in my mouth it was too late; my eyes crossed and the next thing I knew I was sucking him to the rhythm of my heartbeat, deep, steady, wet and always, always, no matter how I started, I had to think about the ergonomics of the blowjob, he had to be lying down, with a comfortable support on his head to be able to see how my hair and makeup were falling apart, how my face was torn between offense and pleasure every time the tip of his cock tickled the back of my throat, I would say "this and that" over and over again, I would say it to him and I would also say it to me, "Mommy please, this one and I'll leave you alone" he repeated to me, because he didn't have the obligation to get there but he felt the need to give the best of the best to such a perfect cock and child, and the best I could give him was me; No parts, no sections, all me, all my attention, all my love, all my soul, all my values, all my virtues, because he is like that, a binary, an all or nothing, a very strong light that does nothing but attract you to his eyes of the sea and his cock of the sky.

He was the owner of an almost permanent erection; a characteristic that has remained intact throughout these months; he would cum very often and very hard, at each expulsion of semen he would give you a little yes, muscles contracted, teeth clenched, eyes closed, veins bulging, holding his breath until he could return, return to the world and let himself go, free himself from that which made him claim me as superior, as black, as flesh, as human warmth, as protection and shelter; In those few minutes, hours, before the next erection, he was almost a very relaxed child, that fury disappeared from his eyes and they stopped being green to become brown like honey; While he was going through that valley, I was constantly living at the peak, in fact, I was passing from one stage to another stage that was no less intense but with a different nuance; I was questioning myself, reproaching myself, without ceasing to squeeze my clitoris.

I would relive several times what had happened, how it had happened and why, what my actions were due to, why I did what I did, and I would not let go of my clitoris.I relived several times what had happened, how it had happened and why, what my actions were due to, why I did what I did, and nothing made sense but it was all worth it, I could not change anything and I did not want to because his presence justified everything. Maybe I had to face consequences, yes, even his, but I needed him to be happy and have everything I wanted to have, he was my light. My whole body thanked me and my heart was filled with happiness. I discovered once again that this joy came from the good that I could provide for this child, my child.

It became my favorite secret activity, my life was me, but it was me being his. waiting for the next time he wanted to betray me, I wanted it to get worse, always worse, I asked the stars, the universe, even God. On the sly I was making a specialty of him: how to reach to lick his balls while I had his whole sex in my mouth, how to wet him until his saliva dripped under his testicles, I counted how many times he came in my mouth before I had to pull him out to breathe, it was my personal challenge, when I realized, it wasn't just oral sex anymore, I was making love to his cock, I was making love to his selfishness, I was in love with a white member that demanded my attention, my mouth, my tongue, my throat, my mega breasts, even my fingers that could remember the touch of his skin, his veins, his soft glans, always wet with precum, the softness of his testicles the firmness of his erection, the tension of each spasm in the orgasm that was so strong that I could even take his pulse with my tongue.

Since then I always wonder if I live in the fiction of my dreams, in my desire to be the multitool of a white boy, in the shiver that runs through my body when without warning he violates my ass with his finger while we are in public, just because, because he is white, because I am flesh, because I have mommy love inside me, because all my "no's" are full of love, because all my "no's" are full of "Insist a little more, the more annoying you see me, the closer I am to saying yes", I am a world of possibilities for him, and each one of those possibilities is more reprehensible than the other, more embarrassing for a woman like me, more reprehensible, and therefore, much more exciting.

It is my duty, it is my reason, I'm black.