I hadn't seen or heard from him in a week. My boyfriend, if you could call him that, and I were together a week ago, and he hadn't tried reaching me since. Jamaal played this cruel game with me, where we would meet and have a great time—fucking mainly—and then he would vanish for days afterwards. I only put up with him, because he was so good in bed. We met at a club a few months earlier. I was dancing and having drinks with my friends when he approached me and asked for a dance. It was the kind of place where particular girls would meet particular guys; where blondes would hook up with blacks. I'm a brunette, but the story is the same.
Jamaal and I danced, had drinks and I left with him. We went to my place and we fucked all night long. He was a tall, muscular, and very dark black guy. He could have taken home any girl that night, but he chose me.
He was amazing in bed. I always had multiple orgasms with him, so I became his toy. He could do anything to me, and I didn't stop him. It's really difficult to say no while you're coming. And I came a lot. We saw each other for two weeks straight, and then he began to stop calling me. I had to call him. Little did I know that he was setting me up. I would be desperate for him after a few days, and then I'd go crazy trying to get him to be with me again. No woman would put up with that abuse unless they were getting something out of it. I was. I got sex, and it's all I needed.
One time at his place, we started kissing, and hugging, and then the clothes came off. We sure never needed any ideas about where the nights would go. He wanted to fuck me, and I needed to fuck him. That little situation worked in his favor over and over again.
Jamaal watched as I pulled my panties down. I moved over to the closet doors, because they were mirrored. I loved watching guys fuck me. I lay down and waited for him to take me, but he had other plans. Jamaal flipped me over onto my belly, and I thought he would enter my pussy from behind, but he didn't. He pulled me up onto all fours, and spit onto my asshole. He rubbed his cock in the saliva, and then pressed his way into my ass. He fucked me, getting deeper each time he thrust against me. I was screaming and moaning at the same time. He was holding onto my hips so hard that it was hurting me, but I didn't care. He thrust into me over and over, violently beating his body against mine as he rammed his cock into my asshole. I was watching myself in the mirror in front of us, my hair moving back and forth each time Jamaal slammed into me. What a whore I was letting him, or any man fuck my ass. It was so painful, but felt so incredible at the same time, that I just let him continue. Jamaal fucked me in that position for what seemed an eternity, pounding me harder and harder until he was ready to come. At that point, his balls were slapping into my clit, and subconsciously, my hips swayed back and forth in a perfect rhythm with his thrusting. My body wanted it as much as my mind.
His grip on my waist tightened, and his smashing against my ass was making my entire body shudder. On his final thrust, Jamaal buried his huge cock all the way inside of my ass. I screamed with both pleasure and pain as his cock throbbed inside of me. I felt each pulse of his penis as it released his come deep inside of my ass. I never took an eye off of Jamaal. I watched him pounding into me, his beautiful ebony body drenched with sweat. Jamaal's eyes were closed, and his muscles were flexing as he drove towards his orgasm. I knew the moment he came by his facial expressions and his head tilting back on that last thrust. Jamaal had given me four orgasms during our lovemaking, and I came again the instant I watched him let go inside of me.
My body was shaking from my orgasm, as Jamaal pulled his cock out of me. I felt his warm semen run out of my asshole onto my pussy, and down my leg. Some of it ran down and onto my belly. All I knew was that there was a lot of it again, as much as before.
As he released me from his grip, and moved back away from me, I collapsed forward onto the floor. I was so exhausted that I just wanted to lay there and recover from all of the fucking we just did. I still stared at Jamaal in the mirror as he rose to his feet, his spent cock dangling down with a large strand of his come swinging from the tip. That was all that was left of his load. The rest was swimming around my insides, and I was one very satisfied woman knowing that and feeling that. Jamaal just picked up the pile of his clothes, grabbed his sneakers, and walked away from me.
"Fuck yeah," he said and then left, chuckling to himself. He did the same thing last time we were together. He just loved treating women like whores and got away with it, because it was accepted in exchange for the incredible fucking and pleasure he gave us. I felt so hollow and used lying on the floor in a puddle of Jamaal's come pouring from my asshole, but I would do it over again, the next chance I got. All I thought about was him fucking me, as I peered at myself in the mirror. I was hypnotized by his cock.
He never did call me afterwards, so I had to make the first move again. Jamaal loved making me go through this. Each time we would fuck, he would just disappear until my aching pussy needed more of him, and I would once again humiliate myself by pathetically searching for him like a high school girl. Business as usual, I'd practically beg him to see me again. I couldn't help myself. It's all I thought about for days after I was with him. My self esteem was at rock bottom every time, but it was the only way to get him to be with me, so I just took it.
I drove to his place one night, as we had arranged. I'm nervous whenever I go there. It's a really terrible neighborhood, if you could even call it that. It is more like the "hood" really. Jamaal lived in the corner apartment of an old, rundown 8-plex building, with brick walls around each unit. Since we always met at night, I was terrorized walking to the back apartment by pretty scary guys who were sometimes hanging out, sitting on chairs drinking in front of their places. I tried not to look in their direction, but naturally, they would shout obscenities and make gestures, grabbing their crotches and so forth. One guy said "Jamaal gonna hit dat white ass again," and "lemme git some a dat pussy" and other shit like that. It did make me think where I had gone wrong. Why the hell did I do this to myself? Am I that desperate to sink so low? How pathetic I was. A million guys were out there, and I had to keep going back to this one? What the fuck was wrong with me? The answer was pretty simple: His black cock owned me. I was mesmerized by his muscular black body blending with my pale skin. He made me feel so good, like nothing I ever felt before when he was fucking me, so it was worth it. I would have traded anything, done whatever he wanted, as long as his cock was inside of me. Very superficial, but it made me happy, at least for a short time.
I made it past the other apartments that time, and knocked on unit H, and Jamaal yelled to come in. He was sitting with his legs stretched out, watching the TV with some friend of his.
"Waaz up babe," he said looking at me.
"Nothing much. I missed you Jamaal."
