Puddin Always Gets Lucky free porn video

It was just after 4:00 p.m. on an early Autumn Saturday afternoon. A silver 20165 Toyota Camry darted into the parking lot of the parking lot of the Lampshade Inn. The driver brought the car to rest under the portico covering the front entrance. Patrick ‘Puddin’ Glover stepped out of the vehicle and walked into the hotel lobby.

“May I help you,” inquired an aging Pakistani man.
“I have a reservation for Glover,” replied Puddin producing his license and credit card.

The clerk scanned the items Puddin handed to him. He typed feverishly on his keyboard. He swiped the VISA for payment and then programmed two key cards for the guest. He explained where the ice and vending machines were located, wrote down the Wi-Fi code, informed Puddin of the times for continental breakfast, and reminded him of check-out time.

“Thank you, sir,” Puddin smile as he went back to his whip. He pulled around to the back of the main building and parked. He was assigned to Room 206. The five-foot-seven, one-hundred-thirty-pound, brown-skinned man dragged his suitcase and duffel bag up the steps. As soon as he entered the room, he turned on the A/C to get some air circulating. He pulled off the sweatpants and windbreaker he had on. He kept the dark green V-neck tee. He also discarded the extra-large purple boyshort panties.

Puddin went into his duffel bag and pulled out a bottle of gin and some pineapple juice. He mixed himself a drink and got his douche kit ready. He turned on his music streaming app, sipped his cocktail, and cleaned out his pussy hole. Forty minutes later, he was happy with the clear results. He made another drink before taking a quick shower.

He dried off and lathered his smooth body with cocoa butter. He put on some vanilla-scented body spray then dressed in a set of plush pajamas. He had about four hours before he was supposed to meet his coworker, Rochelle, for her birthday celebration at The Velveteen Lounge. He planned to have some fun with some random big dick brotha after the club, but he was a bit horny now. He decided to get dressed and walk down to the corner store.

He put on his red head scarf, a shrunken yellow V-neck tee, black jeggings, and red low-top Vans sneakers. He threw his small coin purse with the shoulder strap across his body and went outside. He barely made it to the steps before some man called out to him.

“Hey big booty,” the voice yelled.
“Hey,” Puddin replied turning around.
“Where you goin’?”
“I was thinking about getting a candy bar?”
“Oh, you want some chocklit,” the slender dark-skinned man smiled still approaching.

Puddin admired his two gold teeth. They guy looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties.

“I’m Chief. What’s yo’ name, Miss Pretty,” he asked.
“Puddin’,” the home, beauty, and fashion consultant answered.
“Oh, so you real smooth!”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What you doin’ stayin’ here?”
“Meeting a coworker at a bar for her birthday tonight. So, I figured I’d get a room nearby.”
“Dat’s wassup!”
“And you?”
“Mane! Me and my girl arguin’ right now. But I gotta hannel sum bidness so I came out here to set up base for the night. Feel me?”
“Makes sense.”
“Do you mind if we go somewhere a li’l mo’ private. I ain’t tryna be all on da security cams and shit,” Chief chucked.
“Oh! Of course. Follow me.”

Puddin opened the door and offered her guest a seat.

The apparent hustler spotted the liquor and remarked, “Oh! You is gettin’ it in I see.”
“I like to have a little drinky p*o,” admitted Puddin.
“Do you smoke weed?”
“Occasionally.”
“I got a blunt I stared, but put right back out if you wanna share,” he said pulling a sandwich bag from his hoodie pocket.
“Sure!”

Chief lit it and inhaled. “Can I get some of dat gin and juice?”
“Oh yeah,” said Puddin as he moved to pour a cup.
“Thanks!”
“Here you go!”

Chief traded the beverage for the joint. Puddin took three hits.

“Good stuff,” coughed the effeminate man.
“I know. I only keep the best,” Chief stated matter-of-factly. “Question.”
“What?”
“What size is yo’ waist and how big is yo’ ass? Sorry, I’m straight-forward as hell.”
“You’re good. My waist is 30 and my ass is 40-inches.”
“That shit is unreal! How you get it like that?”
“I did my third set of ass shots six months ago.”
“Nice,” he said returning the blunt to Puddin. “You ain’t get no chocklit.”
“I’m cool.”

“I got dis candy bar,” Chief said producing his stiff eight-and-a-half-inch rod.
“Wow,” Puddin gasped.
“Look! I’ma be honest. You da kinda boi I like to fuck wit’. Soft. Feminine. Big ass. I know you tryna do sum. So wassup.”

Puddin crawled over to the chair where Chief was sitting and began sucking the engorged dick.

“Ooh weeee,” bellowed Chief. “Dat head good, boi! Damn! Yo’ mouf! You got some oil?”
“Yes, sir,” confirmed the cocksucker.
“Git it! I wanna see you twerk on mah dick!”

Puddin grabbed the baby oil and walked back over to Chief. He pulled off his jeggings and pink lace boyshort panties.

“Gimme dat oil,” commanded Chief. He squirted in on Puddn’s ass and began to rub it in. “Twerk for a nigga, faggit!”

Puddin started his booty music playlist. He commenced with the booty popping.

“I done found me a big booty girly femboi,” Chief celebrated. “Ooh wee! Shake dat ass, baby! Dat big pretty brown ass look so good. Come on back! Twerk on dis dick!”

Puddin moved backwards. He could feel Chief’s dick head and the bottom of ass crack. He shook his booty harder.

“Hell, yeah wit’ yo’ pretty punk ass,” elated Chief who was puffing on another blunt. “You a bad bitch!” He squirted more baby oil on Puddin’s ass crack. It was nice and slippery. The tip of his cock was stabbing at Puddin’s super tight anus. It went in a little a few times. “Dayum,” Chief groaned.

Puddin’ could tell what was about to happen. He said, “Gimme one sec. He walked over to the dresser and swallowed the remainder of his drink and took out a vial of poppers from his duffel bag. He inhaled as he walked over back to Chief. He started twerking on the hard dick again.

“What dat shit is,” inquired Chief.
“It makes my muscles relax,” Puddin informed him.
“Oh, it gon’ make it easier fah you to take dis dick?”
“Yes, sir!”
Dat’s wassup!”

Puddin bounced and gyrated. The gigantic ass swallowed Chief’s dick in its clinched hole.

“Ooh. Pussy tight,” groaned Chief. “Ride dat dick!”
“Do you like, daddy,” checked Puddin.
“Shit yeah! Li’l bitty waist, big ass booty, tight muthafuckin’ boipussy!”
“When was the last time you fucked a faggot?”
“Shit! Been bout six weeks ago when I spend da night in jail.”
“Did you just take his ass?”
“Naw! He was flirtin’ wit’ me. He had just got picked up dat night too. Damn! You can take dick!”
“Thank you!”

Chief began to thrust. “Hey, get on yo knees on the bed. I wanna bag dat booty hole. They moved to the bed in unison without Chief ever taking out his dick. “Look at dat booty jiggle!”

“Do you like that,” whimpered Puddin.
“Fuck yeah! You da perfect fuck buddy, faggit! You gon’ do some mo’ ass shots?”
“I want to.”
“How big you want dis ass to git?”
“Like 45 inches.”
“Yeah” Dat’ll be real good. How much they cost?”
“Fifteen hundred.”
“I’ll pay fah da next round if you start spenidn’ da weekends wit’ me at mah trap house.”
“Really?!?”
“Shit yeah, faggit! I know niggas would pay tah twenty tah thirty bucks to fuck you fah five minutes. Can’t let nobody be wit’ you too long. I want dis ass fah me.”

“Wow, you’re an entrepreneur,” exclaimed Puddin.
“I always be thinkin’ bout bread, boo,” Chief advised the sissy.
Puddin sniffed more of the poppers. “Fuck my faggot pussy, nigga!”
“Damn! You jus’ takin’ dis big Black dick in yo’ fat ass,” Chief remarked as he smooshed the butt cheeks together. “Dat boipussy wet too. Tight grip! Damn, you almos’ a woman!”
“I’m better than a woman!”
“Hell yeah! You a big booty punk! My balls achin’, baby!”

A bigger hit of the poppers.

“Yeah, bitch,” Chief encouraged Puddin. “Keep it good and open fo’ a nigga! Scoot up one bed and lay on yo’ stomach!”
“Yes, sir,” replied Puddin who crawled towards the headboard.
“Squeeze dat dick with dem cheeks!”

Chief started slamming mightily into Puddin’s ass.

“You still mad at your girlfriend,” inquired Puddin.
“Fuck yeah,” admitted Chief as hammered the gushy hole. “How dat bitch gon’ try and put me out a house I pay fah?!?”
“Oh, that bitch wrong as hell.”
“Yeah! Fuck dat dumb hoe,” the d**g dealer yelled as increased the power of his pounding.
“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah,” whined Puddin. “Fuck me!”
“She ownt know. I’ma put her ass out and move yo’ big faggit booty in wit’ me.”
“Oh, daddy!”
“Hell! I might start fuckin’ you in our bed right before she come home from work so she can catch me smashing you fat booty!”
“Really?!?”
“Shit yeah! And, I’ma keep fuckin’ you till I nut and den put dat bitch on da streets!”
“I love it!”
“Oh, fuck! I’m finna nut!”

All of gravity seemed to originate from Chief’s loins as he stiffened and his dick exploded.

Puddin felt the warm flood.

Chief rolled over and huffed, “Dat was some good ass!”

Puddin got them each a warm rag to wipe off.

The slim, six-foot-three, chocolate, hustler situated his clothing. He said, “I gotta hannel some bidness tonight. But if you free round bout 5:30 or 6:00 in da mornin’, I’ll come put yo’ pretty ass in da buck.”

“Yeah. Come through at six,” Puddin said,
“Bet! Bye!”

Puddin decided to take a 90-minute nap before getting ready for the gathering.

The alarm jolted Puddin from his slumber. First thing was first, he needed to douche again. He knew he would pull a brotha tonight and wanted to be ready when he did. So, he douched himself clear once again. He turned on a hot shower and scrubbed himself was brown sugar vanilla body wash. He toweled off and used surgical tape to tuck back his small wee-wee and nut sack. Then, he applied unscented lotion and baby oil all over his smooth body. He spritzed himself heavily with cotton candy scented body spray.

Puddin put on a of medium pink lace boyshort panties. They went right up his ass crack. He knew some horny, drunk nigga was gonna love seeing that later. He shimmied into a pair of gold Lycra leggings that came down to his ankles. He put on a white button down oversized rounded-bottom-hem shirt. Then he cinched it at the waist with a big black faux-snakeskin belt.

Puddin applied his fake eyelashes and did the rest of his make-up. He contoured the hell out of his cheeks. He looked damn good painted. He took a few selfies. One may have thought Puddin was vain. He was nowhere near it. He just always got a straight man whenever he went to a bar. He tied on his shimmering red headscarf with a big luscious bow in the front leaning slightly to the right. He added a pair of big ass 74-mm gold earrings.

Puddin took more selfies. Then, he put on his black strappy sandals and requested a rife though his car service app on his phone. He sprayed more of the cotton candy perfume on himself. He had almost forgotten one other essential – he took three ibuprofens. He grabbed his clutch and made sure he had the fifty dollars in five and his AMEX Serve prepaid card. He checked the balance of it on the phone, it was $303.41. He was good to go. The app notified him the driver was one minute away.

Puddin walked down the steps and to the front of the motel. He waved at the driver and got in the black Honda Odyssey minivan. The Asian man drove carefully down the street until he reached The Velveteen Lounge fifteen minutes later. Puddin thanked him and headed inside.

As the personal-style coordinator walked to the door, there were a few catcalls from the brothas in the parking lot. Puddin knew it was on. He showed his I.D. to the tall, strong, dark-skinned, bald bouncer who let out a grunt and winked. “Play your cards right,” Puddin winked back.

Inside, Puddin spotted Rochelle and waved. He motioned that he would be over in a minute. All heads turned – male & female – as Puddin went to the bar. He knew Rochelle’s favorite drink was a Mojito so he order two. He paid with his pre-paid AMEX and tipped the bartender with a five-dollar bill. He carried the cocktails over to the table.

“Happy birthday, Rochelle,” exclaimed Puddin as he handed on of the Mojitos to her.
“Thanks, sweetie,” beamed the thirty-six-year-old bookkeeper. “This is my sister, Candace and her boyfriend, Curtis.”
“Nice to meet you,” returned the flamboyantly gay man. “I’m Puddin.”
“Nice to meet you too, smiled Candace.”
“Likewise,” grinned Curtis.
“Where’s your boo, Ro,” inquired Puddin.
“Uh, he’s persona non-grata right now,” Candace interjected.
“He said he had other plans tonight,” lamented Rochelle. “I’m through with his sorry ass.”
“Girl! Niggas ain’t shit,” commiserated Puddin. “No offense,” he nodded at Curtis.
“None taken,” the handsome, mature blue-black man smiled.

Puddin thought to himself that Rochelle’s man, Darren, may be a sorry boyfriend, but he was an incredible fuck. The six-foot-one, two-hundred-ten-pound, dark-skinned personal trainer, and part-time security guard had just fucked Puddin’s fat ass two nights ago with his ten-inch dick.

“I need to powder my nose,” Candace announced. “Come with me, s*s!”
“Alright, moaned Rochelle.

Curtis and Puddin sat alone at the table.

“Cheers,” the older man said holding up his glass of Jack and Coke.
“Cheers,” replied Puddin. Kind of a bummer of a birthday party, right?”
“Yeah! I’m ready to go home. And I can’t stand my wife,” chuckled Curtis.
“Oh, so Candace is your side chick?!?”
“No, she’s my lady.”
“My apologies.”
“You’re fine.”
“That I know,” teased Puddin.
“I walked right into that,” the father of four admitted.
“You did. And you seemed like such a clever man until then.”

“How long you been like this,” inquired Curtis Jones.
“Like what,” Puddin pretended not to know what he meant.
“A sissy,” the six-foot-one; two-hundred-thirty-seven--pound, forty-nine-year-old with the 38-pants size blurted out.
“My while life.”
Curtis sat forward. “And how’d you get that ass?”
“I did my third round of ass injections six months ago. My waist is 30-inches. My ass is 40-inches.”
“Where’s your man?”
“I’m single.”
“Look. I haven’t fucked no boipussy in over three years, but I want you. I know I’m older, but I got a thick nine-inch dick and I can use it good. I can make a donation.”
“What kinda donation?”
“I got my friend Benjamin with me.”
“I know him. That’ll work.”

“Do you have Chatty,” checked Curtis.
“Yeah. I’m ‘PuddinBooty’,” shared Puddin.
“Add me. Curtis-dot-Jones-Nine-Nine. “Message me.”
“Done!”
“I’m gonna tell Candace my wife is tripping so I can take her home and get over to your spot. Do you live alone?”
“Yes, I do, Buti got a room at the Lampshade Inn down the road.”
“Good. It’s on this side of town. Send me the room number. Here they come back. Be cool.”

Puddin had fired off three more messages before the ladies arrived back at the table.

“Did you drive here, Puddin,” Rochelle asked.
“Nope. I took a Rickshaw,” the fashion forward man stealer said.
“Smart,” added Candace as she looked towards the perplexed Curtis.

“What’s wrong CJ,” Candace asked her man.
“Mona…She’s tripping,” Curtis sighed.
“Dammit,” Candace protested. “What’s her problem now?”
“She’s saying Junior broke the upstairs toilet and they need me.”
“You’re not a goddamn, plumber!”
“But it’s my family and the house I pay for.”
“You barely fuckin’ live there!”
“No need to yell, baby.”
“No. I don’t need to yell because I’ve been hanging on the side with you for eight years.”
“Candace! That’s not fair.”
“I wanna go home and you go back to those brats and that skank of a wife.”
“We’re leaving,” Curtis stated matter-of-factly.

“Come on, Ro! You’re staying with me tonight,” ordered Candace.
“Sorry, Puddin. Bye,” Rochelle lamented.
“Tomorrow will be a better day, love,” Puddin professed.

Puddin pulled out his blue ink pen and a slip of notebook paper. He wrote down his burner phone number. Email address and Chatty username along with message that read, ‘I think you played your cards right. XOXO.’ He requested a Rickshaw ride. On his way out the door, he slipped the folded note to the bouncer.

Puddin arrived back at the hotel and went up to his room. He stripped out of his clothes minus the headscarf and pink lace boyshort panties. Puddin fixed another cup of gin and pineapple juice. He also added more of cotton candy body spray. His phone pinged. It as a message from Curtis.

-Dropped them off. On my way to you. 20 min.
-Awesome. I’m ready. Door will be cracked. I’ll be on the bed with my ass in the air.
-Can’t wait. I got some Paul Masson. Do you drink brown.
-No. But do your thing. I’m sipping on gin & juice.
-My dick is so hard. 10 min away now.
-See you in a few.

Curtis Jones, the fireman-turned-senior-arson-inspector, navigated his gold 2013 GMC Yukon XL into the Lampshade Inn parking lot. He crept around until he spotted Room 206. The old-school, social conservative sent another message through Chatty.

-Here.
“Come on up.

The man had swagger in his pale-yellow linen walking suit and stylish hat. He carried a brown paper bag with his fifth of liquor. He still had the 36-hour Cialis in his system he took the day before. He arrived at the door and pushed it open. He closed it behind him and engaged the latch. “Now, that’s an ass,” he exclaimed.

“Thank you, Daddy,” replied Puddin.
“Get up and let me see that pretty face!”
“Okay.”
“Damn! Your ass s just eatin’ those panties up, boi!”
“Yeah! They kinda do that.”
“Shake it for me!”

Puddin turned back on his booty music playlist. He gyrated.

Curtis stood there taking swigs of his Paul Masson. He dripped his pants and boxers. He unbuttoned his shirt and sat his hat on the table. He had a nice body for an almost fifty-year-old. His rock-hard, nine-incher curved to the left.

Puddin shook his ass cheeks on the super dark snake of a dick.

Curtis grabbed Puddin’s small waist and pulled him close. He stretched the lace panties over his member. He was ready to get in those globular butt cheeks.

Puddin twerked harder.

“Damn, boi! I’m ready to fuck the shit outta you,” confessed Curtis. “I wanted to get in this ass as soon as I seen you walk in the club. I seen every nigga in there checkin’ you out. Li’l waist with a big ass. You got what every nigga wants.”

“Why, thank you,” Puddin smiled.
“You ready for it, baby,” inquired Curtis.
“Yes, Daddy! But let me wet it up first.”

Puddin got on his knees and put his gloss-covered lips on the hard prick. He drooled all over the shaft and ran down Curtis’ balls. The Puddin stood up and bent over the corner of the bed. He pulled the panties part ways down his thighs and wiggled his 40-inch ass.

“I gotta tell you something,” Puddin said.
“What,” quizzed Curtis.
“I want you to be my stepdaddy,” lisped Puddin. “Can you do that?”
“Hell yeah! Have you been good or bad?”
“I skipped school.”
“Stepdaddy’s gonna have to punish you!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Do you want me to tell your mom?”
“Please don’t, Stepdaddy!”
“Well, open that ass up for me!”

Curtis pushed his way into the tight hole.

“Owwww, Steodaddy,” wailed Puddin.
“Take it, boi,” ordered the married man.
“That big grown man dick feels so good!”
“Shit! This big soft ass feels good!”
“Fuck me!”
“Dammit, faggit! Your hole is tight as fuck. Good boipussy.”
“Give it to me!”
“Yeah, faggit!”

Puddin sniffed some of the poppers. He asked, “Why do you wanna fuck me instead of Candace?”
“Something different. It’s exciting. That ass to waist ratio,” replied Curtis.
“I’m glad you wanted me.”
“How could I not want you?!? You damn near perfect!”
“Am I?!?”
“Fuck yes! This big, juicy ass! That make up! The way you switch when you walk. You was born to be fucked!”
“Oh, Stepdaddy!”
“And you just taking my big Black dick!”
“It feels so good!”

“That booty soft. It jiggled every time I push my dick in you,” Curtis shared.
Puddin whined, “Your dick is so big! Fuck me!”
“Your voice is so feminine. You just like a woman! I love how you throw that far ass back at e. You ain’t afraid of no dick!”
“I love your dick, Stepdaddy!”

Pffffffft… Pffffffft!

“This boipussy is talkin’ to Stepdaddy,” Curtis howled. “I love that shit! You nasty li’l faggit bitch!”
“I’m your nasty li’l faggot slut boi,” wailed Puddin.
“Get on your side and put that big, fat ass off the edge of the bed. Clamp down on Stepdaddy’s dick, boi!”
Puddin changed position and sniffed some more poppers. “Gimme that straight, married man dick!”
“Take it, bitch! Take it!”
“Is my pussy better than Candace’s?”
“Oh, hell yeah! It’s way tighter. Way warmer!”
“Fuck me!”
“Ah! Bitch! I’m gonna cuuuuuuuuuummmmmm!”

Curtis nutted and smacked Puddin’s juicy tail.

Puddin got him a warm rag to wash off.

“I gotta go, but I’ll hit you up in a few days,” said Curtis as he dropped a hundred-dollar bill on the floor.

Puddin looked at the clock. It was slightly after 1:00 a.m. He hoped the bouncer would contact him soon so he went to douche out yet again. He got himself ready and started doing Kegels.

At 1:43 a.m., the Chatty app on Puddin’s phone sounded off a notification. He checked it and it said it was a new message from ‘NumbaOneContender’. So, Puddin checked it.

-Hey cutie! It’s the bouncer from Velveteen. You free?
-Yes sir! What’s up?
-I should be done by 2:30. Wanna see u.
-Awesome. I’m not far away. Do you know where Lampshade Inn is?
-Yeah. Room #?
-206. Let me know when you on the way and I’ll crack the door open.
-OK. Hit u back in a few.

Puddin was elated. He pulled out his air tights canister container that held a joint. He lit it up and took a few good puffs before stabbing it out. He double-timed on his Kegels as he rummaged through his bags looking for the neon orange fishnet thigh-high stockings. He found them. He decided he would wear them only. He washed off. Then, he put on lotion. There was more cotton candy body spray added.

Puddin was buzzing.

It was now 2:33 a.m. and the bouncer’s newest message arrived.

-I’m coming now. Still up?
-Yes I’m up. How long?
-15
-Okay!

The six-foot-two-inch, two-hundred-twenty-one-pound pushed open the door. He was carrying a six-pack of Bud Light. “I’m here,” he announced in his baritone voice.

“I’m so glad you made it,” Puddin said from the bed.
“Sit up,” the gentleman replied.
“What’s going on,” inquired Puddin as he sat upright.
“Damn! I can’t call it. I saw you tonight and now I’m here. I don’t really believe it.”
“Why not?”
“Cause I’m not gay. I don’t find niggas attractive.”
“Well, I’m not a nigga.”
“True! But I ain’t never thought of no dude as sexy.”
“I understand. I’m different.”
“That’s an understatement!”
“I guess it is,” giggled Puddin.

“What were you doing out at the bar tonight,” inquired the bouncer as he popped open another can.
“My coworker was having a birthday party that was a hashtag-fail,” admitted Puddin.
“Oh, okay! Well, you certainly caught everyone’s attention.”
“It’s usually like that wherever I go.”
“For real?”
“I tell you no lies,” grinned Puddin. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Jabaar.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jabaar. I’m Puddin.”
“Goof to meet you!”

“Why are you so quiet,” Puddin quizzed.
“Just am,” said Jabaar.
“I understand. Anything interesting happen at Velveteen tonight?”
“Just you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone was talkin’ about you after you left. Most folks were wonderin’ if your butt was real or fake.”
“Were you wondering?”
“Huh?”
“Were you wondering?”
“Yeah I guess!”
“Are you still wondering?”
“A little,” Jabaar admitted.

“Do you smoke weed,” Puddin asked.
“Yeah,” Jabaar responded.
“I got a blunt I was gonna light up. Wanna share it with me?”
“I can.”

Puddin stood up and walked carefully holding his legs together to keep his little cock and balls out of the very manly Jabaar’s view. He opened the air-tight canister and extracted a cigarillo. He moved back to the bed and lit it up. He inhaled a couple of times and passed it to Jabaar.

“Damn,” Jabaar choked slightly. “That’s some good shit!”
“Yeah! My brother is my weed man so I get legitimate stash,” confessed Puddin.
“That’s what’s up!

They passed the blunt back and forth a few times.

Jabaar was now on his third beer. He was buzzed and his host could tell.

“Since you’re still wondering if it’s real or not, you should touch and see that it’s there,” suggested Puddin.
“Is that right,” chuckled Jabaar.
“Of course! Where’s the harm in that? It’s just me and you. All you do is touch it see it’s real.”
“Let me think about it.”
“Fair enough,” Puddin said standing up and shaking it.”
“Okay. Just one touch.”

Puddin backed up towards the chair and Jabaar.

Jabaar held out his left hand and made contact with the flesh. “Yeah! It exists,” he declared.
“Told you so,” smirked Puddin. “Now do you wanna know how it got like that?”
“Actually, yeah! It’s big and soft. How’d you do that, dude?”
“Okay, first off, I’m not ‘dude’. Secondly, I got silicone inject in my ass. I did my third round six months ago. Each round stretched my skin some so it was able to grow. My was is 30-inches. My ass is 40-inches.”
“Wow,” Jabaar commented cracking open his fourth beer.
“See,” Puddin said wiggling his ass.
“Yeah. Can I touch it again?”
“Yes, sir,” Puddin confirmed backing closer.

Jabaar put his left hand on the Puddin’s left butt cheek. Puddin was slowly moving his booty in circles. Soon, Jabaar had both hands on Puddin’s bug fluffy booty.

“Oh, daddy,” I like the way your hands feel on my big, juicy ass,” cooed Puddin.
“Mmmmm! This ass soft like pillows,” Jabaar opined.
“Really, daddy?!? Does it make your dick hard?”
“Strangely, it does.”
“Oh awesome! You might like if you spank me a little. I can get on the edge of the bed and you can smack my cheeks to see how they jiggle.”
“Uhhhh…”
“Just give me little taps.”
“Oh okay.”
“Come on.”

Jabaar stood up and took the short trek with Puddin to the bed.

Puddin laid flat on the bed with his ass tooted up on the corner of the bed. He said, “You can put some of that baby oil on the table on it if you want.”

Jabaar smacked the big booty lightly. He noticed the jiggle. He smacked it a bit harder the next time. “Yeah, it’s real jiggly,” the commented. He massaged the cheeks. Pushing them together. Pulling them apart. “Shake it for me again,”

Puddin twerked.

Jabaar squirted baby oil on the fat ass.

“You see my ass. Can I see your dick,” asked Puddin.
“What,” checked Jabaar.
“I just wanna look at it.”
“Okay,” he said unzipping his black combat pants and pulling the rod though it.
“Nice,” remarked Puddin staring at the ten-inch dick. “May I touch it.”
“Okay. Sure!”

Puddin kissed it.

“You said you wanted to touch it,” protested Jabaar.
“I did. I didn’t saw touch it with what,” pointed out Puddin. “Spank me with it.”
“I don’t know. If I do that I might wanna fuck you.”
“I doubt that. But your dick is rock hard.”

Puddin pushed up and twerked on the love tool. He inhaled a good whiff of his poppers.

Jabaar did not move. The head of his deliciously thick dick ended up inside Puddin’s rectums.


Puddin kept twerking. The booty hole gobble up the dick inch by inch until Puddin had to spread his butt cheeks for it go further.

Jabaar still did not move.

Puddin hooked her hands on Jabaar’s waist and took the three steps back towards the bed.

Jabaar came along.

Puddin got on his knees and left his ass in the air at the corner of the bed. He sniffed more poppers and rocked back and forth.

Jabaar was a statue.

Puddin fucked Jabaar’s dick for three more minutes. Finally, Jabaar thrusted a tad. Then he did it again. And once more. And again.

Soon, he was pumping his ten-inch cock into Puddin.

“Fuck me, daddy,” Puddin encouraged him.
“Yeah,” said Jabaar.
“That dick feels so good! Do you like that pussy?”
“It’s tight!”
“Yeah! It’s some tight faggot ass on your big dick!”
“Damn!”
“Can you believe you’re fucking a punk ass sissy boi!”
“Hell no!”
“Fuck me like you’re mad at me.”
“I’m not gay.”
“No you’re not. But I am.”

“What the fuck am I doin’,” Jabaar wondered aloud. “My dick is in a faggit. Got damn! And it feels good!”
“Yes, daddy! Boipussy is way better than girl pussy,” Puddin said.
“The fuck?!?!? No!”
“Yes, daddy!”
“You damn big booty bitch. Why you confusing niggas? Hoe so tight!”
“Take that faggot boipussy, nigga!
“Yeah! Open it up. Let me bust this nut! Take it! I need to cum!”

“Oh, yes! Fuck me,” cried Puddin.
“Here…It…Comes!!!”

Jabaar pulled out and shot his load on Puddin’s massive cheeks.

Puddin gave him a wet rag.

Jabaar wiped off and left without saying another word.

Puddin cleaned off the nut from his ass and got in the bed. He set his alarm for 5:00 a.m.

The sleeping beauty hit snooze twice before rolling out of bed. He went through his normal ritual of douching and showering. He also smoked the remainder of the blunt from the night prior. He was fully ready in his lavender lace boyshorts at 5:51 a.m.

Chief knocked on the door at three minutes after the hour. Puddin opened up. Chief was carrying a couple of black plastic shopping bags.

“Hey, faggit,” Chief grinned. “Bend over!”
“Yes, daddy,” Puddin said rushing to the bed with his big booty just bouncing.
“Got damn! Look at all dat ass! You know you gon’ be my main bitch, right?”
“I’d love to!”
“Don’t play, faggit! I’m fah real!”

Chief spread the cheeks and spat on the brown hole. He pulled a tube from his hoodie pocket and opening it. He sprinkled half of the MDMA powder on it. Then, he massaged it in. He went over to the table and began to cut some cocaine. He inhaled a line.

Puddin announced, “I’m feel warm and tingly all over.”
“Good,” replied Chief. “I got you a present!”
“Oh! Thanks you, sir!”
“I had one of my niggas go to da porn shop and buy a buncha poppers. Pick out da one you wanna use now.”
“That gold one,” Puddin chose.
“Here you go! Sniff up,” Chief said and his spat back on the booty hole massaged in more powder.

Chief went back to the table and did another line.

“Finish sniffing and git on yo’ back,” Chief commanded.

He affixed a pink cock cage to Puddin to ensure the sissy could not get hard.

“What’s that,” Puddin asked.
“It’s just a fun toy for a nigga and his faggit,” Chief assured him. “Flip back over and sniff some more.”

Chief administered one more does of MDMA powder to the booty hole. He did another line of cocaine.

He marched over to the bed and squeezed a shit load of baby oil on Puddin’s ass crack. He stuck his eight-inch dick inside and felt complete.

“Fuck me,” the high pussyboi begged.
“Yeah, faggit! Take daddy dick,” howled Chief.
“Oh! It’s so big! Yes, nigga! Yasssss!”
“Git dat dick, boi!”
“Mmm! Mmm! I love it. Fuck me. Fuck my sissy punk bitch ass!”
“Yeah Dat big fat booty jigglin’ and shit! Fuck dis dick, faggit!”
“Oh, Chief! I love your dick!”
“Hell yeah! You got a real nigga hannelin’ dis ass now!”

Pffffffft… Pffffffft… Pffffffft… Pfffffff!

“Dat big booty, fartin’,” Chief grinned. “I love it! Turn over!”

Puddin flipped on his back. Chief pushed his legs back.

“You is a pretty boi! Look like a girl in the face,” Chief admitted.
“Thank you, daddy,” Puddin replied.
“Dis boipussy silky smooth, faggit! You gon’ come back so I can fuck you next weekend?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Don’t lie to me, bitch!”
“I’m serious.”
“Good! I was thinking about this 40-inch ass all night long! Damn, it feel better than yesterday!”
“That dick is so good!”
“Take it! I love grindin’ in dis faggit ass like it some girl pussy. Like I wanna make you have my baby!”
“Oh! That dick! Mmm! Mmm!”

“Let’s turn over and you ride me from the back,” Chief suggested.
“Yes, sir,” answered Puddin as the modified positions without pulling out.
“Twerk dat big booty!”
“You like that?”
“I love dat!”

Chief and Puddin kept fucking until the thug could hold his cum no more. He shot his load inside Puddin.

After cleaning up, he confirmed plans for the following weekend.

Puddin was absolutely worn out, but he had loved every moment.