He ate pussy like a man starved, had a good dick, knew how to work it, and he made her laugh. So why did this feel so wrong? And why was the wrongness of it so arousing to her? She looked down at his hair draped across her abdomen. Under those long locks his mouth and tongue were doing amazing things to her clitoris and pussy. He was loud like a boy who wasn't raised right eating food he thought was delicious. Chewing with his mouth open, smacking his lips, making noise from his throat, and using his fingers.
Ashanti threw her head back as she felt the index and middle fingers of his right hand slide into her and curl up to dig into that spot on the roof of her vagina. The spot that sent her over the edge. It didn't do it just by itself. It was a combination of his lips and tongue, the sight of his straight black hair on her abdomen, long and flowy, and his beard, long also, down to his chest, but right now pressed hard up against her taint and ass. His hairy chin grinding into her.
It wasn't just that either. It was that he was white and old. That wasn't supposed to do it for her, but it did. It never had before and she couldn't explain it except that it was her fault. She did this to herself and she was having a hard time regretting it because this old white man was making her come harder than any man ever had. It was because he was a masterful lover, but it was also because he was white, and old.
Her black thighs closed on his head and her left hand reached down and grabbed a handful of his hair. It was the straightest, and silkiest, hair she ever had between her legs. She had fucked other white boys before, but none with long hair like Earl's. He knew she was coming and her hips bucked her pussy against his face. This was only the third time they fucked but he already knew, not just what she liked but, what made her head explode with the most fantastic pleasure she ever felt in her young life, and he knew what do do all the way through her orgasm and when to stop.
She felt him slowly slide his fingers out of her over-sensitive pussy and his hand reached down to palm her round ass cheek. He was strong and he lifted it and rolled her onto her belly. She was too limp to help. She knew what was coming next and it was almost her favorite part. She felt his hands spread the bulbous globes of her ass, then his hair covered cheeks and jaw press between them, then his flattened tongue press against her anus. She gasped with the sensation and felt the goosebumps pop up on her skin and her nipples crinkle even harder than they were. It was wet, and slick, and the feeling of his tongue in her ass was heaven. It was the perfect way to come down from an intense orgasm. He was the first man who ever did that to her and she silently thanked whatever woman in his past taught him the trick.
She already knew he would not do that for all that long. The last two times he did this, it was only for a few minutes, and just like those times, this time she felt him crawl up between her legs and pull her hips up so she was face down and ass up. She felt him press the fat head of his dick up against the swollen lips of her pussy. He nudged the head in and she heard him gasp as her heat, wetness, and tightness enveloped him. She was so ready for the rest of him and he did not disappoint. He slammed the rest of himself into her and it shoved the breath out of her lungs. His was not the longest dick she ever had, but he might be the thickest. She had not measured him, but she estimated him at maybe six or seven inches long, but the girth, sweet Jesus. One day, if this relationship lasted, and it couldn't, if she had a chance she was going to measure his girth.
He stretched all of her apart with one fluid thrust and it triggered the beginning of her second orgasm. She knew not to fuck around with this one. She needed to focus and come as quickly as she could while his fat dick was making those wonderful feelings inside her, because he would not last long. He blamed her eighteen year old pussy, and maybe it was true, regardless of blame, the fact was that once he was inside her he was not far from coming. Maybe he could fuck all night with women his own age.
She heard him breathing heavy behind her and she reached back between her legs, and his, and cupped his big balls. She tugged on them, her sister said that, tugging on the nuts, sometimes helped men hold off. She thrust her hips back against his and felt his fat gut resting on the top of her ass cheeks. This, none of this, was supposed to turn her on, but she felt her second orgasm wash over her and her pussy clamped down on his hard dick and squeezed every ounce of pleasure from the fat veiny shaft. She wailed as her orgasm crashed through her. He was still pounding into her but she knew any second she was about to feel his hot nut sploosh into her.
She felt him grab her right hip with his left hand and he snatched his cock out of her. His right hand reached down and grabbed her right calf. Her hip and her calf felt like they were gripped between iron. He used these two points on her body to flip her quickly. One second she was face down, and the next she was on her back and looking up at him through her tangle of braids that were flung across her face. His beard was wet with her juices, his lips and nose were shiny with it too, his eyes were crazed as he looked down at her. Her black body on the grey flannel sheets of his bed, her tight eighteen year old body, writhing, her firm titties wobbling on her ribs, she saw pure desire reflected in his expression.
As he took her in, she took him in. His pasty chest was covered in short black hairs, his nipples on his soft pectorals had a mass of hair swirled around them. His beer gut, not huge, a dad bod, about what could be expected at the waist of a fifty year old man, wobbled slightly as he moved toward her. All her life she was conditioned to find all this the opposite of what she should find sexually attractive. Her childhood crush was 50 Cent, not Meatloaf. Under it was that fantastic cock, hard, throbbing, the fat head tight and hard.
He ran his right hand up her toned belly, then over to grasp her left breast. He squeezed, gently, and she watched her firm black boob flesh balloon between his strong white fingers. With his left hand he grasped his cock at the base and brushed the hard fat head on her clitoris. She had just come again and the sensation was electric, a jolt, she felt her body tense and then he did it again. He slid his hips forward and that amazing girth split her. She let out a long moan as he inched himself into her, slow this time, teasing. He drove himself in until he was seated like his perfect white tab A locking into her perfect pink slot B.
She reached up for him and pulled his mouth down onto hers, her thick lips on his thinner lips. She tasted his tongue, it still tasted like her. As they kissed he slowly slid himself almost all the way out. She felt her tight pussy narrow as it slid over the hard ridge of his dick head, grasping it, missing his girth, then expand again as he pushed slowly forward until she felt his big balls rest against her ass. She felt the weight of his belly on her abdominals, it was not a turn off, it was not oppressive, the sweat on his belly mixed with the sweat on hers, and contributed to her building third orgasm.
The kissing, the dick sliding in and out of her, their combined sweat, the visual of her black skin pressed against his white skin, the gentle pressure his gut put on hers, his balls sticking to her ass, the wetness there, all of it combined to build her third orgasm to completion. Her nails dug into his back and shoulder, she bit his tongue and lower lip as she gasped into his mouth. Her hips bucked up to try and swallow as much of his cock into her grasping pussy as she could. Her ankles slid over his calves for leverage as she fucked herself up onto him harder as she grunted with the force of her third, and maybe strongest, orgasm yet.
His heat flooded her and he gasped. He was copious and the more that jetted out of him and deep into her, the better seemed to feel for him. He clutched at the back of her neck and pressed her lips harder onto his. He twitched and this made his spurting cock jump inside her. His hairy face scrunched up, his eyes wide, handsome to her, somehow, very handsome.
She felt totally limp. Like all tension and stress left her body. It looked like he felt the same as he rolled onto his back to her left and chuckled. His orgasms made him laugh, giggle, like a little boy, and she found it adorable, it flattered her that she had the power to reduce him to this state. She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his cigarettes. She put one in her mouth and lit it then handed it over to him. She didn't like the smoke, but he was old, and therefore old school, and they smoked after sex.
Her girlfriends would ridicule her, her sisters would beat her, and her parents would disown her, if they knew. Eighteen year old Ashanti was on everybody's shit list anyway, this would rocket her to the tops of those lists though. She dropped out of college after her first semester. She took a job at a convenience store. She wrecked her car, and it was her fault. And she quit gymnastics. Even with all that, fucking old white men, and liking it, was a bomb she could not drop.
To make it worse, she was the aggressor. When she first showed interest he blew her off with a chuckle. He thought she was joking. It was strange seeing such a big man, who was always so confident, act so insecure. At first she thought maybe he was racist, or worse, married, but he didn't wear a ring and he was always nice to her. He came into the store every morning at six and bought a coffee and a pack of Newport Reds. By the time she was ready to make a move she already had to have him. She had been masturbating to a picture of him on her phone, long haired, long bearded, heavy set, hoop earring like a pirate, band tee shirt, cargo shorts, flipflops, for months. The band was Run DMC and she pretended to think it was hilarious that he wore it, and asked if she could take his picture. He posed holding his salt and pepper, mostly salt, beard up so the entire shirt was visible.
The way it started, for her, was too hard to think about, much less confess to him, or anyone. It was a dark time for her. She had just dropped out. Her father made it clear that if she was not going to school, then she was going to work, and she better save her money because she was paying rent at home now, and her lease was up in a year. She took the convenience store job to spite him, she quit gymnastics to rub salt in the wound. He was big on his girls living up to their potential and these were big blows.
So everything in her life was broken, she hated the world, it's the only way she could explain why she did it. She worked the overnights because she was new at the convenience store. That meant doing all the grunt work when it was slow in the store. There were several hours, from when they stopped selling beer until the morning crowd came in, that there was rarely anybody in the store. In those hours she was expected to mop the floors, restock the cigarettes, coffee and soda cups, make sure the condiment, cream, and sugar containers were full, and set the breakfast sandwiches out.
