Author's Note:
This story is the result of a challenge I set forth in the Author's Hangout, The Kickstart Challenge. The premise being that we, as writers, always seem to have a few stories sitting around that have stagnated. We get an idea and take off pounding out words on it for a few hours and then find we're stuck. The muse takes a vacation and we just can't get the story going again. So, the challenge was to post a story that was in that "Can't Finish" box and let another author take over. The requirements being that you had to continue the story where it left off in the same point of view and same style as the original author.
Rumple Foreskin, started this story as part of a series he was working on but soon found he was stuck. He posted what he had in the Kickstart challenge and I took up the reigns.
If what you say is the Gospel truth, then it ain't bragging. And the truth was, I had it made. I mean, there I was, stretched out in the middle of a motel bed with a sexy white chick, my boss at the hospital, a nurse named Donna Faircloth, kneeling astride my hips. She was busy working her fine young hips down over my thick black dick, cramming inch after inch up into her tight pink pussy. See what I mean?
From her expression, I knew she was getting off on sensations she wasn't getting from her button-down husband. My dick, a big black hammer I call Roscoe, had pushed aside those silky, dark-blonde pubs, then stretched her pussy lips wide apart. Now I watched as more and more of it kept sliding up inside her prime pussy.
Talk about a trip! Don't get me wrong, Brenda, that's my old lady, is a righteous piece of ass, at least when she's in the mood. But Donna was something extra special.
By now she'd gotten into a sweet rhythm, using the bed's motion to help her ride up and down on my hammer. The sight of those luscious boobs jiggling inches from my face was a great rush. She was shaking her head, like this was just too damn good to be true. The motion sent her long, blonde hair swirling. There was a spacey, blissful look on her face that left no doubt she was really tripping-out on the sex, on the feel of old Roscoe reaming her out. I swear, watching that little fox in action could get a dead man off.
All this time I'd just been laying there, letting her do all the work. She always seemed to like it that way. And what can I tell you? It was fine by me. But now I couldn't resist stroking her creamy white legs, gradually moving up toward that sweet spot where our two bodies had become one. She responded to my touch with these little moans that are such a turn-on. The closer my fingertips came to the sweet spot, the louder the moans got.
She started pumping her hips even faster. Each time she finished a downward stroke, you could hear this far-out, squishing noise. I swear, she's got the wettest pussy I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Everything was moving faster. She leaned forward, her hands on my chest for balance, her hips were working like a runaway jackhammer.
What I'm trying to say is this lady was about to get off. I placed a hand on one of her firm jugs and tweaked the hard, pink nipple. Meanwhile, I slid my other hand to the top of those smooth thighs. When I touched her clit, she went wild.
There was a loud gasp and her eyes opened wide. She tried to lunge forward, but I pushed her back upright. I knew this would increase the pressure in her pussy to an almost unbearable combination of pleasure and pain. But she could take it. What's more, I knew she loved it.
With eyes closed and arms wrapped around her head, she shook from the force of the orgasm. Her stomach muscles rippled with each wave of the climax. I thrust my hips up, and she almost shot out of the saddle. Letting go of her head, she grabbed my arm for support. Just then, warm pussy juice started sloshing over my nuts. That's one of the greatest things about fucking Donna. I mean, the way she'll cum like that, at least sometimes. It makes you feel great knowing you're doing a chick some real good.
I've got no idea how long this orgasm lasted. It was a strong mother and seemed to go on forever. In part, that's because each time it seemed to be easing, I'd twitch my hips and slam Roscoe in a little deeper and things would start all over. But that won't work forever. When the last waves of the orgasm ebbed away, she sighed and slumped back, arms dangling at her sides, with me still planted deep inside her warm, wet snatch.
We didn't say anything, just looked at one another. She had this pleased, shit-eating grin on her face. Odds are I looked about the same. After catching her breath, she leaned forward and lay on my chest. I stroked her silky hair, knowing she was savoring the afterglow of her climax and the thought that she'd soon be having more of them.
Donna had taught me to like these quiet times together after we'd screwed. But it wasn't long before her hips began moving. Of course, she still had old Roscoe buried inside her juicy snatch so the only way she could move was up and down. The pace was slow at first, but she began picking up speed. I was a little surprised when she sat back up and was once again pounding away on my hard hammer, pushing herself towards another orgasm.
I didn't rush it. She'd come soon enough on her own and I loved watching her ride me. When it hit, her fingertips dig into my arms and her pussy clamped down tight. I made one big thrust upward, making sure she had hold of Roscoe buried deep inside her shuddering body. When the orgasm finally passed, she rested for a minute, and then we began again.
We'd gotten into this kind of action the second or third time we'd screwed here at the motel. I have no idea how many times we replayed the scene and don't even give a shit. It didn't bother me that I wasn't getting off. That'd happen soon enough. Besides, it's such an ego-stroke giving a sexy fuck-a-holic like Donna one climax after another until she's exhausted.
After several more of these mini-orgasms, I started toying with her. The next time she was about to explode, I forced her to slow down, keeping her on the edge of a climax. After repeating this a few times, she was almost frantic to come.
The next time she reached the brink of an orgasm, instead of keeping her at the brink, I thrust my hips off the bed drilling her with every inch of old Roscoe. She let out a gasp of pleasure like a kid at Christmas and her hips became a blur of motion.
