Leasa

Leasa Silicon Valley’s ‘Blonde4Blacks’

Chapter 2

Amos strutted over to the cot I was laying on. Standing with his hands confidently on his hips he said: “Get dressed. Time to go.”

Still leaning on one arm I leisurely reached out and grasped the base of his love club and positioned the nozzle to my lips.

I looked up at Amos and gave the large, limp hunk of meat a big kiss.

He smiled and said, “You my wife now.”

What could I say? We had just shared an act that should only be shared between husband and wife.

In response, I just began kissing his weapon all down along its thick, veiny barrel. It was my way of giving silent agreement to Amos’ pronouncement.

As I kissed down along the barrel of his dick, I soon found my face buried in his thick, brillo-like pubic hair. I inhaled and drank in the strong musky scent of him...my Man. And I loved it.

I reached down and palmed his large, meaty balls. I lifted them and began kissing and licking them. These were the vessels that would produce my first beautiful, black baby, I thought. I licked and loved them fully.

Then I turned my attention back to the thick knob of Amos’ immense dick. I opened my lips and engulfed it—with some difficulty. I found myself beginning to milk his cock with both my wet lips and my tugging hand.

Soon he was growing in my mouth; so much so, that I was soon straining my jaws to still contain him. My nostrils flared to allow me to breathe with his ever swelling muscle of manhood half down my throat.

At this point I was now sitting up on the edge of the bed to get my head high enough to continue to contain his now stiff standing shaft in my mouth.

Amos’ then stepped back from the bed pulling me along by his dick, lips first, till I fell on my knees in front of him; still desperately working at his fleshy organ.

“No sittin’ down on the job, bitch,” he grunted. Then he casually placed his hand behind my head guiding it as it bobbed back and forth on the end of his thick, rock-hard tool.

The door opened and the old man who gave us the keys of the room entered to tell Amos he needed the room back. Mid way through his request he stopped as he saw me on my knees sucking away sloppily at the fat, abnormal cock Amos had stuffed into my straining mouth.

As I continued my duties, I could here Amos snigger to the man:

“Hey Roscoe, I promised the girl lunch, didn’t I? Well, as you can see, IT’S CHOW TIME!”

They both laughed uproariously while I ignored their degrading joke and continued sucking and yanking on the succulent, juicy, African “chow” Amos was treating me to.

Soon I could feel the old man’s dick really stiffen, like steel. He began grunting as the meaty muscle in my mouth expanded frighteningly and then spewed a thick load of molasses-like spunk down my throat. I began gagging, but Amos now held me tightly be the hair not letting me slide off his ballooning, ebony schlong.

Soon the thick jism filled my mouth and began seeping out around my lips which were still stretched lewdly around the immense circumference of his cock.

I heard him begin to chuckle at me between his lustful grunts:

“That was the drink I promised you, babe. To wash down all that meat, eh?”

He laughed out loud at that and let me pull my mouth off him and finally breathe.

I fell back against the bed, just sitting there on the floor looking up at him. Still dumbfounded at all that had happened, all this man had gotten me to do, in the last hour.

My lips were coated with the thick gloss of his cum. Some had sprayed onto my cheeks and into my hair. And as I sat there, licking the thick salty goo from my lips, I could feel a rope of cum drool hanging, swinging, from my chin.

He looked down at me. “You a fuckin’ mess when you eat, girl. Don’t know if I’ll be able to take your ass out anywhere, least anywhere wheres respectable peoples go.”

He stepped up to me grabbed his dick and used the cudgel to scoop up the string of cum drool from my chin and then spooned his dick into my mouth as if feeding a baby. I opened wide and took him in and sucked the baby making nectar from his meaty, black ladle.

Black men taste so good, I thought.

I cleaned his dick off thoroughly and then started kissing it all over again when he pulled away and started to get dressed.

He through a towel in my face and told me to clean up, lunch was over.

I wiped my face off and slowly got dressed . When I was done, I asked Amos if there was some other way out so we didn’t have to pass all those men outside in the bar.

He looked at me in stony silence: “Why, you ashamed a somthin”?”

“N, ... no...no just...well...they all heard and know that...you know...Amos...Amos, please...I ...I don’t want...” He slapped me suddenly twice. A quick bitch slap, first front, then back of the hand.

Then said:

“Don’t you ever act like yo’ white trash ass is shamed a bein’ with Amos Jackson! You understand, bitch!”

No man had ever done that to me before. I held my face and cowered. I wasn’t sure if he’d do it again. I was frightened. But also...respectful. Here was a man. One who I now understood would take no shit from me. None period!

I had always been able to manipulate men in the past. White men. But that would not be the case with this man. This Black Man. This black, strong, dominant and very powerful, black African man.

Amos took me by the hand, opened the door, and as we came into the Bar & Grill we left. Amos pulling me along by the hand and me being led by the hand. Led by the man who had just completely and irrevocably taken me as his property in front of the whole bar for everyone to see.

For the first time in my life, I felt a man truly “owned” me.

When we pulled up to the back door of the office building, I asked: “Amos, please don’t be angry, but will you...will you...,” I was stammerring, trying to find the right words.

“Will I what?” Amos asked almost sarcastically.

“You know...Will you...well...Will you tell everyone you fucked me?”

He smiled. “Shit no,” he said, “they see youse, a pretty little white thing, dissappearin’ at lunch with a hot buck like me...hell, we’ll let ‘em draw dey own conclusion, eh?” then he winked and gave me a big, condescending smile.

I felt sick and ashamed of what I had just done for this disgusting old black janitor. Yet as I opened the car door and was about to step out I couldn’t help myself but to ask:

“Will we be going to lunch again?”

“Baby, I a busy man. We’ll see. Bye!”

With that, Amos pulled the door closed and drove off.

I walked to the building, my face red with both anger and humiliation. How could this have happened to me, I thought. I’ve just been used by an old, black janitor—and on a simple lunch...”date”.

The rest of the day at work I couldn’t think of anything but how enraged I was with myself and that black animal. And yet, time and time again I had to slip off to the ladies room. Enter a booth, slide my nylons down, and relieve the incredible heat between my splayed thighs.

And all I could picture was Amos. Amos and his incredible, wonderful, African horse-cock.

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Let me know what YOU are picturing. Write me.