Leasa At Otis House

I'm fan - it's obvious - of LeasaJ stories. As many readers I am sorry she is a long time without making any new posts. More than that, I was sorry her story on Amos and Otis never continued. So, I have tried to make this sequel, using those characters she had so well developed. I know I have not her expertise, but I have tried to get and follow her style. If I have accomplished, the honor goes for her. If not... sorry, my fault.

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The Day After.

When I woke up the next morning on Otis bed, I had my legs and arms wrapped around the crumpled body of Amos' father and I could feel that my pussy was still stuffed with his gross meaty weapon.

I kept looking at him for a long time, trying to avoid thinking. I couldn't understand how I had agreed to be fucked by so ugly and outworn a man. His almost bald head looked worse due to the few sparse white hairbreadth and the inexistence of eyebrows. His nose was flat and big and his lips gross and preeminent. But at the same time I felt I should review my aesthetic standards, because though all that features I felt an irresistible tenderness towards him, an urgency to embrace him, to lick his lips with the tip of my tongue and sometimes to grip his soft cock with my pussy muscles. I don't know even now if it was some kind of love, or gratitude for have being sexually taken and given so much pleasure.

After some time I urged myself to leave the bed, and went still naked to the kitchen and did a search on something to cook. With some difficulty I gathered two eggs, some onions and crackers and began to make coffee and breakfast. The steam and the smell of coffee and fried eggs awakened Otis and soon he was stumbling naked into the kitchen to sit by the table and keep looking me at work.

I know it's strange, but although I had served him in bed all night, I felt uneasy with his eyes blatantly posed on my naked back. And some of the uneasiness came for sure from the fact that I felt I was there cooking his food like his deceased black spouse would have done before.

When I finished cooking, I served Otis meal. As the food was not sufficient for the both of us and I had to dress up to go to work I proceed to the bedroom, but the old blackman gripped my arm and, without speaking, made a hint with his head for me to sit down.

Surprised, I kept looking at him so after some chewing he licked his lips clean and said "My women stay by me while I eat!"

"I'm not your woman,!" I had the impulse to say, but how could I do that when I still had his dried semen all over my thighs and pussy hair?

I stood there silently waiting that nigger who was imposing himself over the blonde woman his son had taken and impregnated eat his food and once in a while rub his cock, my butt or my breasts.

"May I go, now?" I asked him timidly, eyes down and hands crossed in front of my sex, when he finally finished eating.

"Yes, sweetheart! But help me to the john, first".

I helped Otis to stand up and began to pull him by his hand, but he grabbed my fingers and with a force I had forgotten he was possessor, pulled them to circle his cock. "That's how I like my women get me to the john, sweetheart".

I'm sure I reddened, but I said nothing, once more unable to say no to my lover's father and just took him by his floppy sex organ to the restroom.

Being feeble, Otis leaned upon the wall to pee, what was good to me so his dick was not to be seen, and I left to the bedroom for my clothes. My pantyhose was in a mess, smeared of semen and dirty, so I didn't wear it. I found my fashionable black dress crumpled on the floor. I shook and slicked it to make myself somewhat presentable and I wear my black pumps again.

Because I didn't want to see Otis peeing, I cried good-bye and went to the front door. The key was stuck. I tried hard to open the door once and then, but it was to no avail. I had to cry for Otis help and while I was still trying to make the key turn he came from behind, his arm extended to the door lock. He got me locked against the door and then his prick began to get to life again, the cockhead raising the hem of my skirt, insinuating between my thighs and demandingly piercing my buttocks and smearing my flesh with remained pee drops or upcoming precum.

"Oh my god"! That old black faun was claiming again my womanhood. How could he do that after having breed me all night long? "Please, Otis, do not do this! Not now! I have to go to work! I promise I'll be back later!"

"Could you leave me like this, blondie? Can I stay like this wanting to bone you? I'll fuck you later, OK. But I need to feel your warm creamy hole squeezing tightly my old man's pole. I need to release my spunk in your tight cunt right now, blondie!"

I could have fight off Otis' wanderers gropes, but it's not the same thing to say and do that.

My senses were in a turmoil knowing I had to leave that house immediately but at the same time feeling a renewed fully enjoyable sensation of being a desirable woman, something the poor little thing that was my husband could never make me feel. Black men had awakened my sexuality. Older black men had discovered and had made myself discover that my white woman flesh would ever answer the ancient cry of jungle, submitting with thighs and all my holes open to those African warriors and their colossal seed pumps.

But besides all that, Otis fingers manipulating my clit and boobs and his slavering lips on my neck convinced me that I was not only trying to fight the Caucasian women tendency to unabashed fully serve the superiority of black cocks. I was trying to deny myself my destiny as the breeding mare of the Jackson family black stallions.

Otis' weight on my back became unbearable - or it was my horniness? - and we slowly slide down to floor until I was all stretched with him on top. He brought his hands over my butt, crumpling the dress to the waist.

"You'd to had a nice meaty round rump, dontcha bitch? To serve ma cock fully, dontcha? You're in need to be serviced dontcha? Well, me is gone to service you all the fat soup you deserve."

Yes, I needed again to be serviced hard by that loathsome but desired coal mummy's monstrous cudgel.

Son and father had reduced me to a mass of flesh which chemistry would make me react immediately submitting every time they felt the need to bless my inner walls with the glory of their powerful manmeat.

The old man kept humping my buttocks slightly, too more slightly than my body feel necessary. I need to feel that weapon rushing into my bowels to take shelter inside my hungry body.

In desperation, I moved my arms backwards, my fingers trying to introduce themselves between our bodies until finally I got to his meat pole which I grabbed relieved.

"Ma bitch is horny, ma bitch is" Otis said and got his buttocks up from me, taking the tip of his bloated donkey cock away from my nether hole.

"Please, Otis, put it into me... Make love to me..."

His answer showed me the traces of a family, the way those black masters treated the women they took, because it reminded me the way Amos had treated me before. "You love me, blon'. I fuck you. I only no makes you preg'nt becos' ma son already done".

And saying that Otis finally released me of my desperation, because he once more put his wondrous cock in contact with my flesh, and slicing my vaginal lips slithered his women breaker forward with a wet rush until it was sunk to the hilt, his hairy balls swinging from below my wet pubic hair.

He stood inside me immobile, as immobilized I stood feeling the emotions and sensations of being once again filled to the core by manmeat, black manmeat, old man Otis Jackson's hard black meat.

Otis' began to flex his cock inside me and, in answer, I began to nibble him with my pussy muscles, increasing the friction and making him grunt his approval to the pleasure I was proving I was able to give. Each time he flexed his invader inside me I made my soaked walls grab and massage it and each time he emitted his animal roar.

But soon that became unbearably insufficient to me. I had a need for more friction than we had, a need to feel that fat python sliding up and down my channel.

Though we continued our play of flexing-nibbling-grunting, I began to slowly wriggle my hind in an attempt to stimulate Otis' actions.

It did, but not the way I expected.

I felt Otis' long bony fingers insert under the neckline of my dress and take possession of my breasts, grabbing them and clinging to them. Now the sequence changed. He'd flex his cock, I'd nip it and when I would try to wriggle Otis' would squeeze my globs and nib my ear.

"Ma mare is nervous? Easy, mare, easy..."

I repeat my intents some times because in a strange way the combination of his massage on my breasts and his soothing voice on my ear generated a new thrill. Then, I began to jump harder, to demand my rider to give me more than I already had. Soon we were a rodeo show when I cavorted trying to take him to move inside me and Otis grabbing my tits and repeating my movements, jumping when I would jump and falling when I would fall, not letting one only moment his hard cock move inside or outside a small fraction of inch. But my youthfulness should win that round, so after some jumps Otis' didn't follow me when I fell, continuing the up movement until he took out his appendage, leaving me surprised and empty.

"Noooo..." I wailed in deep frustration. I looked back and it was just the time to see Otis sitting against the wall on the other side of the corridor, pointing to me his erected turgid cock greased with our mixed love fluid and shining like stainless steel.

That was my time to emit a guttural groan and sneak up to him, to that old black man that kept only looking at me, a large smile on his gross lips.

I was hypnotized like a rabbit by that black cobra which his long fingers so slowly pumped.

I looked to his staring eyes and draw my dress under my arms till it got in a bunch at navel line. I kneeled over him with my thighs wide open and took his big black love pole to my vagina without lose contact with his eyes not even a second. I left my body fell down over his manhood engulfing it with my fleshy cunt lips merging into a sensation of the purest happiness and endearment toward that 80 years old black man.

I was in love with Otis. I was in love with him the same way as in love with Amos, his son who had opened to me the ways to black worship. I knew that had to be love because nothing more could be more intense, more consuming and more pleasurable.

Otis grabbed my head and pulled it down to him, kissing me fully and invading my mouth with his hot tongue, dwelling with mine like a battle of two snakes, contorting, enlacing

"I'll give you pleasure, Otis", I said. "I'm your woman just like I am Amos woman, and I'll make everything to give you all the pleasure you deserve".

And I did. I jumped and pranced and rubbed myself on his immense love tool. I kissed him and sucked his tongue, cleaned his teeth and mouth with my tongue, licked his neck and his torso and rolled on the floor, fucking and being royally fucked, giving him my body and being masterized until the moment he ejected his melting seed inside my uterus already pregnant from his own son, almost drowning me with the pleasure and the majesty of his spunk.

Then, when he began to get soft inside me, I went licking his dribbling from his mouth opened by the tiredness of fucking that blonde mare - myself - licking the sweat that ran in long threads from his neck to his white hair covered torso, our mixed honeys on his cockhairs and finally I took in my mouth that immense boa that had broken in pleasure the blonde she colt that now was his.