The Engagement Pt 02

The Engagement, Part 02

So there you have it. I lost my virginity at the age of twenty-one to a big white guy I only knew as "Detroit", courtesy of my two best friends, Lisa Winchell and Nicole Hanson.

Detroit slept for three hours in our hotel room after his encounter with me. Lisa and Nicole swore they'd never seen him hobbled so quickly or comprehensively. He was, according to their assessment, "top of the line dickasaurus".

While he slept, my friends took it upon themselves to critique my performance.

"Cynthia, where did you get that massive bush?" Lisa opened.

"It has to go, Cynt," Nicole piped in. "You're never going to get your pussy licked if a man has to worry that some troglodyte is going to fall out of your jungle. Who the fuck told you to go out in public like that anyway?"

I was a little taken aback. I was proud of my bush. It was the main indication of my womanhood. Yeh, it crept outside the boundaries of my panty lines a bit. But I wasn't in the habit of going outside in my drawers, so....

"Cynthia, it just won't do. Come here. Lay down." Lisa ordered.

All of us were still naked. Jizz trickled from my pussy. Lisa dug out a straight razor.

"What do you plan to do with THAT?" I asked, a little perturbed.

"Just hold still," she said.

She took the straight razor and deftly outlined my bush into the shape of a heart.

"It's still too thick," she said when she was finished. "Nikki, hand me the scissors. No, hand me the clippers and a guide. Gimme a two."

She slid the guide onto the clippers and gouged my magnificent bush down to a buzz cut resembling a Valentine's Day cookie. My clit hid between the folds of my vulva as Lisa shaved me down. She finished up, wiped semen from the clipper blades, leaned over and gave my pussy a lavish lick.

"That's a lickable pussy, Cynthia. You weren't going to get any face time with that other thing."

Not only fucked and shaved for the first time, but licked by a woman. This was turning out to be a red-letter day.

We finished our Cuban sandwiches. Lisa hooked her phone up to the television and replayed my encounter with Detroit. He was still asleep. When the video got to the part where I was mounted over Detroit's ass, I had to comment.

"Nikki, where'd you get that move from? I've never seen it in any movie."

"Detroit taught me that move. He likes it," she said.

"Is he a faggot?" I asked suspiciously.

"Not as far as I know. A clit up your ass isn't the same thing as a dick up your ass."

I had Lisa rewind the video. I wanted to see my cowgirl prowess. All three of us looked on with glee.

"I've never seen him rocked like that, Cynt. You've got one hellification of a snapper, baby," Nicole whispered in awe.

I tried to play it off. But secretly I was proud. This guy had a monster cock. And I took every inch of it and milked him of two flaming nuts to boot. And the fucker was STILL asleep.

I'd whipped his ass.

When Detroit awakened, both Lisa and Nicole mounted him cowgirl and busted their nuts on his cock. He'd recovered nicely. Lisa waved me over as she humped him.

"D, suck her pussy again, won't you? I've trimmed her up."

Not needing any further encouragement, I straddled his mouth. This time he won out. I left three extravagant nuts on his swirling, probing tongue and his prehensile lips. I even got a small tossed salad out of the deal. It was my turn to faint and fall asleep.

When I awakened, Detroit was just leaving. Lisa and Nicole were lying across each other, legs spread akimbo, deeply asleep. Semen curdled lazily from their vaginas. Apparently, there'd been another monster cock session while I slept. Detroit was fully dressed. He smiled at me and slipped me his phone number. Only then did I realize that a fresh dose of semen curdled from my own vajayjay. He really was a dickasaurus.

"Call me the next time you're in Detroit," he said. "That was fun!"

And that's how Detroit became the first of my extra-municipal lovers.

I stepped into the bathroom to wash up. Semen has a unique smell that gets stronger the longer you let it percolate in your pussy. I scrubbed up. I even washed my hair.

The doubts and the second-guessing started creeping in. I didn't know this man. In the space of four hours he'd cum in my pussy three times. Did he have a disease? Was he married? Was I pregnant? Was he a stalker? A criminal? Would he sue me and claim that I'd taken advantage of his sexual naiveté? How old was this guy anyway? All of these thoughts cross a woman's mind after having casual sex. I couldn't blame Lisa and Nicole. No one put a gun to my head and made me fuck this stranger.

"He left this room with my virginity on his dick! I'll never get it back!!"

I dried myself and walked back into the hotel room, still naked. My friends were snoring quietly. I turned on the video to find it had been enhanced. There was fresh video of Lisa sucking Detroit's dick, followed by a scene with Detroit crushing Lisa, missionary position, on the bed. Next came video of Detroit cumming in Nicole's mouth, eyes, chin and cheeks. Finally, there was video of Detroit fucking me rapaciously as I slept. He came inside me. And the last image was of his semen plooping in bubblets from my neatly coiffed cunt. I looked over at my bed. There was a huge wet spot. I shook my head.

"How the fuck did this happen?"

I reached down to twiddle my usually rampant clit. She was asleep. Finally. Overdosed on dick. I'd waited all my life for this day.

In the five years since the loss of my virginity I'd (1) graduated from college, (2) taken a good job in my hometown, (3) visited Detroit semi-annually, (4) visited Lisa and Nicole in Seattle numerous times, (5) added an Asian lover in Seattle, (6) added an African lover in Las Vegas and (7) become engaged to Kevon Simpson in Pittsburgh.

Lisa and Nicole warned me strenuously against dating Kevon.

"Never date in the town where you live, Cynthia. NEVER do it."

I tried to put him off. I really did. I would not fuck him, no matter how many times we dated. He really thought me persnickety. I helped him decorate his apartment. No pussy. I accepted his invitation to a Broadway show in Manhattan. No pussy. I spent the night at his parent's crib. No pussy.

Somehow, in his mind, I was saving myself for marriage. And this virtue made me worthy of wifedom. By the time I gave up the scootie he was so backed up our communal wet spot was three feet wide. He busted one nut and slept for fourteen hours. It was SO cute!

Meanwhile, PGAD is whipping my ass. I'm twenty-six years old. I'm in my sexual prime. That weekend in Manhattan? I must've masturbated twenty times to avoid giving up the poonan. I masturbated in the bathroom at the theater. I clenched myself into a mini-orgasm while sitting in my seat during the show.

Kevon and I flew back to Pittsburgh. I made my apologies at the airport, then disappeared and booked a flight to Detroit, where I fucked dickasaurus silly, imagining him to be Kevon. This brought some much needed relief. Nothing quenches a clitoral hard-on like a twelve-inch dick.

Why didn't I just marry Detroit, you might ask? I didn't know this guy from Adam. We got together at a pre-arranged time. Eight seconds later we were fucking. And we continued to fuck until either he was drained, I was drained or we ran out of time. Then we moved on with our lives. I had the same arrangement with Seattle and Las Vegas. Fuck, don't talk. I don't really want to know you. Getting to know any of these men was sure to entail complications that none of us wanted to deal with. The sex was clean, excellent and simple. I planned to keep all three of these men throughout the duration of my marriage. If my marriage became too complex, I knew where I could go to embrace a simpler equation.

With that in mind, I was ready to marry Kevon. He was complex enough for me. He had this crew from college that he was always talking about. He called them 'the fellas'. They were all BFF's. Except, get this, two members of his crew were women. This sounded suspicious. I was sure that one or both of these women went by the name of the city where she lived, if you catch my drift. I pumped him for the names of those cities--Dallas and Baltimore. But he never referred to these women by these cities, so I had to assume his relationship with them was as platonic as he described. I'd met one of 'the fellas', somebody named DeSean something or other, while we were in New York. He seemed like a good enough guy. I'd introduced Kevon to Lisa and Nicole during one of their visits to Pittsburgh. We were steadily ingratiating ourselves into each other's lives.

Why did I want to get married? Ehhhh, you know. Children. Family. Security. I still hadn't told Kevon about my slumlord properties. And I didn't plan to. If things didn't work out there'd be less stuff to divvy up. Besides, I was already halvsies on those properties with my dad. He and I were splitting twenty grand a month in rental revenue and we were going halvsies on the maintenance and taxes. I didn't want to drag Kevon into that.

I also didn't want to tell Kevon about the PGAD. I'd made him wait a good little while for a piece of MY ass. He was a smart boy. It might occur to him that someone else was addressing my ongoing sexual disorder while he was waiting his turn. No one with PGAD goes a year without fucking. So I let him think he lucked into a tremendously expressive snapper. And that's just exactly what he thought, too. I heard him bragging about my pussy to one of 'the fellas' on the phone one night. He was enamored. I was pleased.

So one night Kevon and I are dining at this fabulously expensive Italian restaurant. The food and the music and the ambiance are perfect. Mrs. Hotbox picks this moment to start roasting in place. I couldn't sit comfortably in my seat; my pussy felt like she was on fire. So I looked about the restaurant, seeking to hide in plain sight. The restaurant is packed. No one is paying attention to us. I pretended to drop a fork, then slipped under the table. While there a wicked thought occurred. I eased up between Kevon's legs, unbuckled his belt and gave him a sloppy wet blowjob--totally on the spur of the moment--while I serviced Mrs. Hotbox. The smell of his saliva-wettened dick was a raging aphrodisiac for me, as was the implied danger of being caught. He ejaculated in my mouth just as I was crumpling under the electric thunder of another masturbatory masterpiece. I swallowed Kevon's semen and gathered myself. My fingers smelled like a pussy that's been walked around all day, you know, a little ripe, a little pissy, a little sweaty.

When I emerged from under the table there was a four-carat diamond ring on my plate. The stone was surrounded with clusters of rubies. I'd unwittingly chosen the night of Kevon's proposal to induct him into the public restaurant blowjob club. He wasn't my first inductee, but I was certainly his. Kevon spoke of that night very lovingly afterward.

I took a photo of the ring with my iphone and immediately texted it to Lisa and Nicole. I could hear those heffahs shrieking all the way from Seattle. I slipped the ring on. Kevon went to kiss my hand, but I wouldn't let him. I was astonished that he couldn't detect the smell of pussy on my fingers. Everyone within twenty feet could smell it. I took him home and transferred that odor to his lips and his dick. Repeatedly. One doesn't become engaged for the first time often.

We set a date ten months out. Meanwhile, our sexual relationship was becoming, ehhh, more in line with my exotic imperatives. We started doing freaky shit. I humped his ass while giving him a reacharound, a la Detroit, and he liked it. I tossed his salad from behind and he loved it, although he didn't volunteer to reciprocate, as I'd hoped. I bought some video equipment to "create memories" and he liked that, too. We found increasingly audacious public places to have sex. I made him lick my pussy under the table in the same Italian restaurant where he'd proposed, using the "I dropped a fork" technique. Whenever we went out, even in church, I went commando, "just in case". He liked that, too. Nothing was too daring or outrageous for us. We were setting the foundations of one hellacious marriage. I didn't tell him that I was sharing our homemade videos with my friends. They liked to masturbate to porn. What was I gonna do? Leave them ass out?

I'd come from a traditional family. My dad was going to foot the bill for my wedding, even though Kevon and I could easily have afforded it. I asked my sister Beatrice to be maid of honor. Kevon's older brother Mike agreed to be best man. Kevon asked me to consider the two female members of his crew for my bridal party. I wasn't too happy about it, but I said OK. I mean, these are his friends, not mine, right? I thought he might select these women as groomsmen. But that would have made ME look crazy. So I reluctantly agreed to accept these two strangers as bride's maids. I didn't even know their names. Teralynn? Jennifer? What ev.

Other than Lisa and Nicole, Beatrice was the only person who knew of my struggle to rein in my rampant libido. She was a year younger than me. We shared each other's secrets. Bea had undergone a pair of abortions in high school that our parents never knew of. So when I told her about my experience in Detroit, she was happy to have some dirt on me. She wanted to know the dealio with Kevon.

"Is his dick as big as the guy in Detroit?"

"Ummmm, no," I replied. "Kevon is, like, a nine. He's not a twelve. But he's real receptive to suggestion. He'll cum fast the first time we try something new, but once he gets used to it he can go all night."

"Are you going to be happy with a nine going forward?" she asked.

"Sure. Why not? If Mrs. Hotbox gets too out of hand, there are plenty of flights to Detroit."

"Won't Kevon ask why you're always sneaking out of town?"

"He hasn't asked so far. I've got money. I can always have Detroit or Las Vegas come here."

"You're not afraid of being seen?"

"Seen where? In some shitty motel on the seedy side of town while driving an even shittier station wagon? Who the fuck knows me over there? I'm more afraid of getting profiled by the police."

"Where you gonna live after the wedding?"

"We'll go live at his place. I'll rent my townhome out. I don't much like paying rent, but you know how guys are. He'll want to feel "in charge". I'll start needling him about buying a home. He'll get tired of my nagging. And then we'll have a home together. Besides, I like his place. You've seen it. It's a "Cynthia Preston Special"."

"You mean a "Cynthia Simpson Special"," she said.

"Oh. Yeah," I mumbled. "Hey, what's going on with you and Ivan?"

(Ivan was Kevon's younger brother. He and Bea had been sneaking around.)

"Oh, I've fucked him a couple of times. He's a nine, like his brother. I wish I could meet a twelve."

"I can give you Detroit's phone number," I offered.

"I'm not taking your sloppy seconds," Bea retorted.

"Why not?" I said. "He and I don't have any emotional connection."

"Didn't you say he went rawdog in Mrs. Hotbox? A foot deep? That's YOUR dick, thank you. I'll find my own," she sniffed.

"Suit yourself."

Kevon and I had standing dates on Wednesdays at my place, Friday Happy Hours after work, Saturdays out on the town, and church on Sunday mornings. Today was Wednesday. Both of us had to work. I rushed home from my job to put together a dinner of liver, bacon and onions, butter fried corn, spinach and Texas toast. Liver only takes a minute to cook, so I left that for last. Nothing tastes worse than old, warmed over liver. It was a simple dinner and one of Kevon's favorites.

I rushed into the bathroom to tidy up. We were going to eat, watch TV and fuck all night. I wanted to be fresh.

So I met him at the door in my birthday suit. I blew him immediately, caressing his balls with my fingernails and moaning as if his dick assuaged the clitoris in my throat. He liked this act; I wanted to make him happy. He came quickly, holding me by the back of my head. I swallowed his issue.

Still butt-ass naked, I fried up some liver and served him a plate. We sat down and ate together. He told me about his day and the challenges of his job. I listened without listening. I didn't really give a fuck, you know? I knew he didn't give a fuck when I told stories about my job and the women I hate. I didn't know his co-workers; he didn't know mine. But it was polite for me to listen attentively. I was still naked. When he came to a logical pause in his story I segued to the elephant in the room:

"Oh look. I've dropped my fork under the table. Can you get it for me?"

This was, of course, coded language of my desire for a sucked pussy. Kevon scooted up under the table and licked my delicately coiffed cooch through a couple of expansive orgasms. It was good, but it lacked the danger of discovery. That took something away from the experience. Only he and I were there to witness his cunnilingual expertise.

I cleaned the table while Kevon moved to the couch and turned on the TV. We'd been binge watching HBO's Game of Thrones. He stripped out of his clothing, covered the couch with a beach towel and waited for me. As per usual, he stroked himself erect while I loaded the dishwasher. We had our routines down pat.

I finished cleaning the kitchen and moved into the living room to address his erection. I sat across his lap sidesaddle as he penetrated me. We fucked slowly like this through several episodes of Season Four, taking time to kiss, nibble and fondle. Kevon gave me a nice reacharound. My clit always loved being twiddled by a man. He came in my pussy a couple times without pulling out. When I felt him going soft I simply stopped rotating my ass and turned my attention to the TV. His nine-incher never failed to resuscitate. When he hardened, we went back to fucking. Then we'd reset whichever GOT episode we'd missed and start over. Game of Thrones is incredibly layered. (SHAME!! SHAME!!!) We'd have to re-watch episodes even if we hadn't been distracted by sex.

After Kevon's third orgasm (and per our pattern) it became difficult for him to regain tumescence sidesaddle or cowgirl. He stood me up, bent me over my couch and fucked himself erect doggystyle, using my pussy as a masturbatory device. This iteration of our sex night was always strident and violent. Once his cock finally ballooned erect he really fucked the shit out of me. We crashed into each other hatefully. Believe me, I'm not complaining. Soft, lovey-dovey sex is nice. But Mrs. Hotbox wants to be ravaged and put in her place occasionally. I always looked forward to this part of Wednesday night.

So he's fucking me ragged. I'm encouraging him to fuck me harder and faster. My head is snapping back and forth. I'm rotating my ass in circles--slow on the upswing, fast on the downswing. (If you let him, a man will just fuck you in-and-out. A woman needs some side-to-side, yes, that's the best way to fuck.)

He had that dick MOTORIN'.

So I'm getting some nice side-to-side action and I'm cumming at will. He pulls out of my pussy and rams his dick up my ass. I'd taught him well. I took one of his hands and made him give me another reacharound. I took his other hand and made him squeeze my left titty. HARD. He started pumping faster and faster. I knew he was going to cum soon. I waited.

When he came, I felt the electric sparkle of his jism firing into my rectum. It was like sucking on those pop rocks from childhood, only the tingle exploded inside my poop chute in panoramic arrays of inflection. My brain was awash in sexual pheromones. I'm flying thru wormholes at warp speed in space. I'm eyeballing individual photons as I pass. I'm tasting colors. This moment, this instant in time, is why people fuck. It's the sizzle of oneness, the perfection of consensual conjoinment.