Look Whos Not Coming To Dinner Ch 02

He drove her home in the afternoon in his truck. She asked him to drop her off at the bus stop a few blocks away and walked the rest of the way home. Today was Friday, she had tonight and tomorrow night off. She would not be there to make his coffee, and then he was leaving Sunday to go to Daytona and he would be back the following Sunday late, so she would not see him until the next morning. That was ten, practically eleven, days that she would not be able to make his coffee, watch him drink it, or get a ride to his house to surrender herself to him.

The thought caused an unreasonable amount of stress for her. She calmed herself. This was temporary insanity and she was going to use those days to cure herself of her addiction to this old white man; this perfect, handsome, sexy, old white man. Sexy? Yeah, fuck the world, he was sexy. Maybe they would not put him in a magazine ad selling Calvins, but when she looked at him it made her want to fuck. He was sexy and if the rest of the world was blind to it, so much the better. Right? Fuck.

Apparently she wasn't the only girl out there with eyes for him though. He had his sexy booth girls. Were they attracted to him, or his money? They worked with him all day, selling his wares, and she imagined big tough biker types coming to him for advice on their bikes, making requests, deferring to his expertise. His authority, his juice with the bad boys, his money, all of these factors could mix to cause an enticing view of him in the eyes of a young woman. Young women were wired to seek out power and success. A man who had those could look attractive to a young woman who paid attention.

Work ethic, a desire to learn, and ambition; those were the traits her father taught her to seek in a man. That man being young and black was assumed. Maybe hers wasn't the only father that taught his daughters to seek those traits in a man. These were traits that created power and success. Her own father contributed to her being wired that way. Society and tradition did too. She bypassed all that programming by casting some strange magic spell on herself when she dosed that old white man's coffee with her pussy. She cringed at the thought so forcefully that her head shook in the effort to expel it from her mind.

Work ethic, a desire to learn, and ambition; Earl had those traits too. He started his day before six every morning, that was work ethic. He made custom motorcycle parts, that required a desire to constantly learn. He owned his own business, that practically defined ambition. Young and black were unmentioned expectations that Earl fell wide of. They were so basic that no one thought they had to be explained to her. And they didn't, she went off the rails on her own with respect to those.

Fuck. She was, her mind was, still trying to justify Earl as a romantic interest for her. She needed to get it, him, him and the prospect of a future with him, out of her head. Thankfully her father's BMW was not in the driveway when she turned the corner and could see her house. She did not want to deal with him. Even if he didn't say anything to her, there would be the stern disapproving looks from him. The curt nod to acknowledge her before he wordlessly turned his attention back to something that pleased him. He didn't need to say anything to her. He already said it all when she dropped out. He said it in calm and measured words and tones that unemotionally pointed out what a huge piece of shit she was, and how her individual actions and choices reflected on her entire family. She did not need that distraction right now.

She swallowed hard, gulped, and she could taste and smell Earl's come still in her mouth and throat. And in her nose, she could smell it and taste it, and it made her pussy throb. It was a lot and she swallowed most of it, but some got away from her. She knew that under her tee shirt, between her breasts, there was a dollop that landed there after it dripped down off her chin. She knew there was other residue on her skin too, and even more still in her. The fact she had so much of him on her, and in her, was driving her mad with lust right now. She needed to get in the house, out of her clothes, and into her bed to address her arousal.

In her head it was like a parting gift to Earl. None of this was his fault and she was going to drop him, hard, and she knew he already caught feelings for her. He said as much when he delicately broached the subject that morning as she lay with him. In her head it was a last nice thing to do for him before she left him forever. In another part of her head she wanted to give him something to think about, something to compare to, as he fucked around with sexy booth girls.

Sometime after she fell asleep in his bed he must have, carefully so he didn't wake her, disentangled himself from her embrace and left her to sleep. When she woke he was on the phone in his home office. He was making arrangements for his upcoming big week at the bike rally. He was probably talking to a prospective sexy booth girl, making arrangements for three, not two, three sexy booth girls to sell his wares, party after, and fuck all night while he was away from Ashanti. She couldn't be sure because she could not clearly hear his conversation, but that was where her head went.

She looked over and saw he placed a tall glass of orange juice on the nightstand next to the bed. It was still cold so she knew he made an effort to get the timing right. This was the third time she slept over so he knew roughly how long she slept, and he kept track of that. After she was up he would offer to make her something to eat, she would decline. She rolled over and sat up and took a sip of the OJ. It was fresh squeezed, delicious, and she gulped at it after the first sip. This was nice. A girl could get used to this. The right girl could, but not her. This, he, was not for her. Maybe repeating this to herself like a mantra would break the spell she cast on herself.

"Good afternoon," he said from the doorway to his bedroom. He was back in his cargo shorts, tee shirt, and flip flops. He had the big gold hoop earring in his left ear, dangling, looking sexy on him. His eyes took her in, devoured her nudity, and communicated intense desire.

"Hi, what time is it?"

"A little after two."

"You think you can drive me home?"

"Sure, you want to go right now?"

"Not right away, if we leave by three I can beat my dad home and not have to deal with his shit. That would be cool."

"Okay, can I make you some afternoon breakfast or anything?"

"No thanks. You got time to lay with me a bit before we go?"

"Hell yeah," he said and he peeled his shirt off and dropped his shorts and underwear while kicking off his flops. She giggled at his haste as moments later he was naked in the bed. She took another sip of the OJ then set it down and lay back onto him.

She rested her head on his round belly. It was cushy, like a pillow, and she was aware that his dick was directly to the left of her head where it lay on his belly. His fluffy beard was inches to her right. His right hand came down and caressed her right breast where she lay at a right angle to him on his bead. His big hands squeezed and massaged her breast sensually, her little nipple hardened. She imagined she could lay here with him, like this, for hours. She could read a book, or maybe he could read one to her, or they could each read their own books to themselves, and they could waste away an afternoon like this, and it would be Heaven.

"You got awfully straight hair for a black girl," he said as he ran his fingers through her braids.

"Yeah, me and my sisters all do, like I said, there's some Apache in the bloodline at some point. I keep it braided because it's easy, but if I leave it be it can fro up too."

"I like the braids," he said. He said it like his opinion mattered. Like a husband might tell a wife how he preferred she keep her hair styled. As if an old white man's opinion about how a young black girl managed her ethnic hair was an endorsement. If he liked it, she should probably change it; it was out of date. Why did she like it braided so much more now then? What the fuck was that?

Where was all that coming from? Earl did nothing to her to deserve these angry thoughts. The man said he liked her hair the way it was. She injected all that other bullshit in there. Was she looking for reasons to leave him? Was she trying to find some offense he might have committed to justify what she was going to do to him? She didn't need it. She already told him what her plans were and, fantastic man that he is, he accepted it. Why did he accept it so easily? He should be begging her to go with him. He should rage against the idea she might want to leave him.

She shook off all those thoughts. She was the fucked up one here, not him. He was the good guy and she was the bad woman. He didn't deserve what she was planning to do to him. He made it as easy for her as he could. He agreed her attraction to him was not in her best interests, and, in her best interests, he supported her decision to end it even if he would regret not being with her.

She looked down at his hand working her breast. It was white, with hair on the hard knuckles, on thick strong fingers. It was a man's hand, with rough and calloused palms and fingers, that did hard work every day. His fingernails were clean, and trimmed, but it was obvious he trimmed them himself. Her tit, smooth, firm, and brown, with the darker smudge of quarter sized nipple, looked good in his white hand. It felt good to be absently fondled by him as they spoke. She felt her pussy throb and her core melt to thick gooey slickness. She thought about his coffee that morning. Her pussy throbbed again.

She wanted to suck his dick. She hadn't done that for him yet. She considered herself fairly experienced for an eighteen year old girl, but she had not sucked off many men. She didn't hate it but it made her feel subservient to the man she did that for, and she had not been with many men she felt deserved her subservience. The few times she performed the act in the past, she did it out of her own curiosity. Her older sisters assured her there was no way to do it wrong other than to keep her teeth off the dick, but even then, if she had a man's dick in her mouth; that man was happy. She wanted to make Earl happy, and curiously, she was comfortable being subservient to him.

She rolled onto her left side so she was now looking down his belly at his fat dick. His hand slid off her breast as she rolled and now he moved it up to squeeze her shoulder. His white hand, her black shoulder, her pussy throbbed again imagining the contrast. His dick lay on his thigh, half-chubbed, and her right hand came up and curled her fingers around it. She felt blood pump into it and it thickened and lengthened in her hand. He let out a sigh and his hand slid down her shoulder to her her hip flare and squeezed there.

His dick was hard, rigid, in her hand now. About three inches of white dick stuck out of the top of her hand where she held it by the base in her fist. The knob on the top, the ring of smooth flesh just below it, the scarred area where he was circumcised fifty years ago, and the thick and thin veins running up the shaft under that see through upper layer of white skin, it was a visual treat for her. It was a fantastic cock. She liked the way it looked, she liked the way it felt, and she now wanted to find out how it tasted.

He hissed as she eased her head down the slope of his belly toward his cock in her fist. She pulled his tight dick flesh up the rigid shaft so it rolled over, and covered, the knob. Then she pulled it all the way down tight so his dick stood fiercely at attention, straining against its own skin. It looked like it grew another inch when she held it like this. She exhaled her warm breath onto it from about an inch away. He hissed again and she chuckled. It was a sexy noise he made.

She jabbed her tongue out and swiped it over his head, then she did it again, and pulled back to see the head shiny with her spit. He tasted good. He tasted and smelled clean like he showered after they fucked and she went to sleep. She could not detect any of her flavor on him, nor the taste of any semen, yet. She liked her flavor and would have gladly tasted herself on him, but clean was good too.

She lowered her head farther and laid her left cheek on his hard shaft, used her head to press his dick down onto his belly, then lowered her hand to gather up his heavy ball sack into the palm of her hand. She pressed his ball sack up over her mouth and she swirled her tongue across his balls. He was hairy and she felt his ball hairs in her mouth. This was supposed to be revolting, but it wasn't, because it was Earl, and that was fucked up. She sucked one of his balls into her mouth and swiped her tongue across it. Earl moaned.

She popped one ball out, then sucked the other one in, then tried to get them both in. It was a mouthful but she got them both into her mouth and sucked all the way down to the base of his ball sack so the left corner of her mouth was pressed against the crux where his scrotum met his shaft. She pulled her head back and let his balls get dragged out of her mouth until they popped free. She put the head of his cock on her lips and kissed it then eased her head down and opened her lips to take it in slowly.

His fat dick stretched her lips as it slid into her mouth. She moved her hand up from the base to feel his dick skin bunch up against her plump lips. He was rigid and she felt his belly twitch. She eased her mouth down farther and his girth filled her mouth and pressed her tongue flat in her mouth. As the tip of his cock reached her throat her mouth filled with saliva and helped lubricate the operation. She slowly got his dick all the way into her mouth. The head was past her gag reflex and created a suctioning noise as she poked it in and out of her throat.

After not many strokes of his fat dick all the way in then almost all the way out of her mouth he let out a groan and warned her he was about to come but she did not take his cock out of her mouth. She wanted him to come in her mouth. She pulled her head back a little so she could taste it. She wanted to know his flavor. Maybe it would repulse her. Maybe his old white man come would ruin the spell she cast on herself. Maybe it would be bitter and acrid and taste like disease. It didn't, it tasted salty sweet, and it was a lot. His cock seemed to burst with a twitch in her mouth. It jerked like the recoil of a powerful cannon in her mouth and jetted several gushers of yummy jizz into her mouth.

Her mouth filled with the thick hot liquid quickly, she swallowed even as she felt some escape from the corners of her mouth. It landed on his pubic mound and smeared up her cheek as she continued to bob her head up and down on the spurting shaft. It throbbed and she could see the wide tube that ran along the bottom of his cock thicken in throbs as more man sauce shot up his shaft and into her mouth. She swallowed another mouthful then pulled her head back and off it and the next rope shot out and splattered her face as she continued to jerk his cock with her hand. She put her mouth back over the head and squeezed the last spurts and drips into her mouth.

She sat up and back onto her knees and looked at him. He looked up at her with half-lidded eyes and she hoped the site of her black skin, shiny with his come, was one he would treasure in his memories. She used her fingers to wipe the come on her face into her mouth. When she opened to suck it in is when a little drooled out of her mouth, down her chin, and fell onto her cleavage. She swallowed the rest then leaned down over her knees and took him back in her mouth to suck his dick clean of all his come. She got more off his pubis where some dripped from her mouth.

"That was amazing," he groaned and his body looked slack and relaxed as his dick softened slowly in her hand. "Can I return the favor?"

It was tempting. He could eat pussy, well, and she loved his face between her legs, but this was for him, and she needed to get home. She shook her head and blew him a kiss. As she gathered her clothes, rather than put her panties on, she put them in. She still had a sloppy pussy full of come from that morning and she didn't want to lose a drop, so she rolled up her thong tight down to the size of a tampon and fingered it into her pussy. She stepped into her jeans and pulled them on and snapped them. Hopefully she was not going to see him ever again, but she was in his presence now, had just sucked his dick, and had to leave. She was ravenous for him and his jizz would be a masturbatory aid as soon as she got home. She did all this with her back to him so he wouldn't know. When she stood up and turned to him as she pulled her shirt down over her breasts. He reluctantly rolled out of bed and put his clothes back on and drove her home.

The memory made her think about his hairy balls in her mouth and she hoped she could find one of his hairs. She would use it, in her mouth, or on her clit, when she got behind a locked door to also aid in her masturbation. She wasn't sure what kind of sick shit that was about, and she was getting tired of surprising herself with these kinds of thoughts about this man. She ran her tongue around in her mouth to see if she could find a hair.

She went through her front door, the house felt empty and quiet and she hoped it was. She went to her bedroom and locked the door. She shed her clothes and was naked by the time she reached her bed. She crawled up on it, turned, and flung herself onto her back and her legs spread and her knees came up to her shoulders as she dug her index and middle fingers of her right hand deep into her pussy.

She pulled her come soaked panties out of her pussy and put them in her mouth. As they unrolled in her mouth there was an explosion of flavors, his and hers, and she moaned around her juicy panties then sucked on them to draw out more flavor. She felt the hot moisture in her pussy and knew it was a mix of her and him. He came a bucket into her that morning. She swirled her fingers inside herself until she felt a thick coating on her fingers. She brought them out and up to her mouth and sucked the creamy white sex juices off her digits.

She was already on the edge by the time she applied the index and middle fingers of her left hand to her hard shiny little clit. She twirled it under her fingers while she stuck two fingers on her right hand back into her pussy from around her thigh and underneath. She moaned around the panties in her mouth as her body shuddered through her crashing orgasm. It was not as good as being with Earl, but it was as close as she was ever going to get again.

She curled up onto her side after she came and let her eyes close. She had a lot of life fixing to do in the next week, and that could start after a nap. Earl was probably back at work, maybe at his home office, or maybe he went to his shop. She thought about his long hair, tendrils of it hanging down into his face, the glint of the gold hoop in his ear, the stormy look his eyes had when he looked at her, how he laughed. She was going to miss all that. Maybe she would dream of him.

It was after nine at night when she woke up. She looked at the alarm clock on her nightstand and cursed. She was vaguely aware of someone knocking on her door at some point, her mother probably calling her to dinner, but she never bothered to get up. It would be one more thing for her dad to give her shit about. She still did not want to deal with him.

All the bedrooms in their custom built house were master bedrooms in that they all had their own attached bathrooms. This was handy right now because it meant she did not have to risk running into her father in the process of getting ready to go out. She was on a quest to find an age-appropriate man to fuck her joints loose and take her to heights of pleasure no fifty year old fat man, especially Earl, ever could. This man would be in his early twenties, black, built, and preferably hung. She knew where they congregated, and she knew what they liked.