First time sub domination by my date
- 3 years ago
- 22
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First Date free porn video
She was 35 and I was 42 but we were both in very good shape. Actually, she was beyond that term, way beyond. She had one of those naturally toned figures where every part is balanced just right. She was in the absolute prime of her life, that window of age some women attain when they reach a maturity that’s truly a perfection of human femininity. You don’t encounter such a woman very often, one that is not otherwise totally engaged. But when you do, you take notice because the feeling she embodies rushes at you and through you. It stops you in your tracks.
It is even more powerful because it comes from her u*********sly. She is not even aware of the totality she is. Like the slow flow in your veins of some mellow golden ambrosia; like the hot purr of raw power from the Ducati between your thighs down the long smooth straightaway of an empty highway in the desert somewhere under a full moon; like the smooth taste of a finely-aged bourbon or that rare single-malt scotch an old friend breaks out and brings by when you’re really down; like that fleeting smell of redwood at dawn when you awaken up in the high country; like that one perfect dandelion standing alone on that one perfect day in Spring when you take a long walk to think about something that was so important then but is now forgotten; such is the feeling you might get upon encountering such a woman.
Perhaps such a woman defies description. Women say that men cannot express their feelings. That is true but only to a point. Men certainly feel just as much, perhaps even more, because women simply cannot fathom the effect they can have on us. We seem to lack the ability to process it into words because deep down we still are solid, basic, simple, like rocks or trees or soil. I do know a tiny part of each man deep within is made of glass. We act cool or tough or whatever word you wish to use and we do so not because it’s who we actually are but because we do not want you to ever know where that tiny piece of glass is hidden, we do not want you to know how easily you can break us inside. So be careful the way you handle us.
For what its worth then, with no arrogance intended whatsoever and all presumption aside, allow me to speak for every man just this one time. Let the description I wrote above be the words in the mouth of any guy any where, any time, when he wants to tell you how you make him feel. Because I bet he’d say that that’s pretty close to how you make him feel when he‘s around you. Such is how she made me feel when I met her.
Her thighs and calves showed muscle whenever she walked. She had huge tits, 36 triple F, a special order bra size she explained. Her toe nails and finger nails were a matching hot pink color. She had a flat tummy, and an absolutely perfect bubble butt. I k** you not. It was the most beautiful ass I’d ever seen on a woman. She had high cheek bones and lips that were just right, not too full, but not thin. She had speckled pieces of amber for eyes. She had the most beautiful pussy, shaved totally, and always smooth and invitingly easy to lick. I never got tired of looking at her, touching her, having her.
When I took her out for the first time, she was by far the hottest woman I’d ever dated. And she turned every head anywhere we went. That was probably because she always wore very short mini skirts and low-cut tight tops showing ample cleavage. With the six inch pumps she had on, she walked with a natural ease that exuded sex. She’d obviously worn them before on a regular basis. Duly noted.
If she hadn’t been with me, I would have taken her for an escort or dancer off-work, she was that hot. I saw her return smiles and sometimes turn a hip at the appreciative guy-passer-by. But she did it in a way that was not disrespectful to me. That seems a bit exaggerated but it is true. It was just her way, natural, uninhibited. In fact, it turned me on even more.
When we sat down for lunch, I held her chair in the old-fashioned way of the gentleman. I made some joking comment about holding the chair, that I was doing it just so she’d know I was at least trying to show some class. She smiled and waved me off. But she thanked me by slowly taking her seat, twisting wide her thighs so that only I could see the pink wetness between them. Geesus, no panties.
“I’m impressed,” I said, smiling as I sat down. “You are a special woman.”
She lifted her brows.
“Really now. Why is that? Just because I don’t wear panties?” she asked pointedly, teasing.
“Well, umm, yes. But not just because you don‘t,” I answered. “But because you chose to let me know you don’t. Now I have to try like hell to have a normal conversation with you. You know that’s not fair.”
She giggled.
“Who decides what’s fair? Besides, most guys don’t handle it all that well. I mean they usually can’t just sit down and talk about it, like this.”
“Most guys?“ I said in mock seriousness. “You mean there’s been others before me?”
She grinned wide at that. Then she re-crossed her legs slowly.
“Only a few,” she said, putting a finger to her lips, mischievously,
“As I recall.”
I laughed then, but I had a huge hard-on, thinking of her beautiful no-pantied-smoothness pressed into my face. We ordered drinks and then lunch and talked. She was so easy on the eyes but that ease carried into her words too. It was such an easy thing, talking to her as well. She had raw sexual intimidation at her beckon call and she knew it. But instead she took that narrow path of not making a guy like me feel intimidated. That was new and much appreciated. First dates could be torture. I found myself sinking into her being, thinking how I could so get into the presence of this amazing woman. And not just her body, though that was a huge factor, I had to admit. But there was so much more to her. Lunch proceeded like a blur. I had to slow my thoughts down. This woman had the makings of that most elusive of creatures in every man’s mind, the endangered specie many men never have the pleasure to experience: the Whole Package.
We were finishing our last round of drinks when she spoke after a lull.
“I like you. So I want to tell you some things upfront, so you can choose if you want to have a second date with me. Because I know I do with you.”
She was serious and so direct. I wasn’t sure how to take this. What, was she some serial killer or something? I looked at her and blinked once or twice.
“I’m flattered,“ I said. “Of course I want a second date. What guy wouldn’t? But umm, we probably need to finish this one first, don‘t you think?“
She grinned back.
“You make me laugh. I don’t meet many guys that do that.”
“I just can’t imagine why?” I teased her, purposely looking at her tits.
She giggled again. Then I saw the chance to be serious.
“Ok. I’ll be straight for a second. So what things upfront are you talking about? Sounds very important. But that’s good. Try me,“
Put on the spot suddenly, she seemed unsure of where to start. So I cut in.
“I’m actually surprisingly flexible,”
This was my cue to look down at my lap, then back up at her, adding,
“Well, maybe ’flexible’ isn’t the perfect adverb right now.”
It came out sounding lame and contrived. She looked at me. I hung my head and shook it. Then when she realized I had tried real hard to make her laugh and flopped, she actually laughed fully then. And it was sweet, melodious, and real. Not the fake nervous kind. This was a babe that could be herself naturally. What a rarity. What a huge overwhelming turn on too. She curled her finger at me over the table. I leaned in over my plate.
“Listen. I like to fuck,” she said, leaning in closer. “I like to fuck a lot, and I like it spontaneously, and whenever I have the urge. I discovered that about myself after I left my husband. I realized how much it is an expression of my sexuality and must not be…umm”
Her eyes drifted up, searching for the right word…
“Imprisoned…”
Her face was just inches from mine. Her eyes were so intent and hopeful and open in the words she spoke. I felt her breath on my lips she was so close. She wanted understanding, acceptance, right then and there. I looked at her and smiled, returning her unfeigned openness. I nodded.
“Yes. I understand. Go on, please go on.”
“She looked down for a moment.
“I love men, but I‘m particularly drawn to black men“ she said, with a wistful look in her eye. She held my hand between hers suddenly, passionately,
“For years, I’d always wanted to try them out. So as soon as I left my ex I did. I was moving here when one waved at me going down the highway. He motioned me to pull over. Probably never thought in a million years that I would. But I did. And I fucked him in his car right there in the rest stop. Didn’t care if anyone saw us. Been seeing him off and on ever since. Nothing serious, never has been. Just fun and sex.“
I nodded and gulped. I tried to re-seat my self because of my raging erection. She smiled naughtily.
“Turns you on?”
“Of course,” I managed. That was an understatement.
She smiled back. I motioned for her to continue her story.
“Like I said, I love men, but I found out how much I love the attention of black men, the way they openly admire and compliment my body, and I love how they even talk about fucking me right to my face. God, that turns me on. It’s so..so honest.. so in your face. I love their music, their cool. And I love their cocks. I can’t get enough of their cocks, in my hand, mouth, ass, and most of all in my pussy.”
She looked to and fro to be sure our conversation was not being overheard.
“And I absolutely love the feel of their load, the feel of their hot cum shooting deep into me.”
Her eyes went murky and she quivered slightly, leaning back just a bit, closing her eyes in some personal ecstasy. I sucked in my breath slowly. WOW. I was shaking inside as she finished her confession. For a moment, I thought I might pop right there. I could feel the dribble of pre-cum on the inside of my slacks. She looked at me, I guess for a reaction. Then she started to tear up, as if she was about to cry.
“What’s wrong?” I asked in a hushed tone.
She sniffled, then, containing herself, wiped a quick nail at her eye to keep her make-up from running.
“You haven’t said anything. Is that it then? No comment? This is where a lot of guys just…just check out on me.”
“Huh? Check out on you? What…Why would I do that?”
“You’re k**ding?” she said quite surprised. “You don’t judge me for that? My own family is angry with me about this. I date a lot and I’ve reached the point where I’m totally honest about it right away. I will not hide my desires. I did that for too long in a bad marriage. But so many white guys can’t stand that. It’s an immediate turn off. Others lie and say they’ve no problem with it, when they really do. I don’t want that to happen again, not with a guy… a guy like you…that I really really like.”
I looked at her for a long moment.
“What an odd thing to say,“ I commented. “Look at yourself. You’re a walking perfection of the female anatomy. You carry yourself unaware of the symphony that plays all around you with every step you take. You can have any man you want. Any. So how could any man think he has the right to judge you or possess you? And screw your family. As for me, I feel like I died and went to some new heaven just having you sitting across from me at this table. How could anything about you possibly make me not want to see you anymore?”
She seemed genuinely speechless. So I went on.
“You don’t believe me, do you? Let me ask you some questions, then.”
She nodded. Her tits moved with the nods. Her nipples were erect. This was turning her on, in a new and confusing kind of way. I wanted to shake the cobwebs out of my brain. Had she actually said that she really really liked me? This fucking dripping-hot, sexual goddess genuinely liked me? Me?
I let out a long sigh.
“Ok. Relax,” I said. “This will be easy and fun. But you have to answer each question quickly.”
She nodded again. Her tits agreed too, nipples in particular.
“ So here goes,” I grinned. “Ready?”
“Yes,” she said, huskily.
She’d clearly paid a price just for being who she was. It always pissed me off to see women damaged in that way, just for being beautiful, just for being who they are. I was determined to make this way less heavy-duty, way less serious, differently new and unthreatening for her. In one word, comedic. Nothing closer to a woman’s heart than the simple joy of laughter. I leaned close in this time. I could feel her relaxing. That was good.
“Question number 1. Are you seeing black men now?”
“Yes.”
“Question number 2. More than one?”
“Yes.”
“Question number 3.”
I paused for a moment. “Fuck the Question numbers.”
She giggled. “Ok”
“How many different black men are you seeing right now.”
“Three regularly, a fourth, sometimes.”
“Why sometimes?”
She frowned.
“Because he can be a real asshole sometimes.”
“But you like his cock?”
“Oh yes,” she relied, flashing a smile.
“Soo.. You go out with each of these guys regularly?”
“Yes. About once a week.”
“And you fuck each whenever you go out with them?”
“Yes. That’s why I go out with them and why they ask me to go out.”
“Because they know you love to fuck black men?”
“Yes.”
“Any other reason?”
“Do I need another?”
“Is it also because they know they can fuck you anytime, anywhere while you’re with them?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you fuck them anytime, anywhere?”
“Yes. They’re usually quite aggressive and uninhibited and want that in any woman they’re with.”
“What else?”
“Because I give great head. Most black women do not, or so they say.”
“Yes. I’ve heard that too. Do you fuck all of them whenever you all go out?”
“You asked me that already.”
“No. I asked about ‘all’ in this question, not ‘each’.”
“Oh, ok. I’ve never been out with all of them at one time.”
“If you ever were out with all of them, would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Fuck all of them.”
“What do you think I am?”
“You’re awesome is what I think you am. Answer the question.”
“I’d never really thought about it. They don’t even know each other. Well, actually two of them do. So..maybe. Yes, I suppose I would.”
“Would what?”
“Silly man. You can’t keep track of your own questions.”
“So you would?”
“Would what?
“Fuck them all?”
“I said yes. And I definitely would, now that I think about it.”
“Have you ever had more than one guy at a time before?”
“What is this, 20 Questions?”
“No. We’re way passed 20 now. So have you?”
“You’re making my head hurt.”
“You’re making my head hurt too. Both of them.”
“You’re starting to sound like that geeky guy that used to have the radio sex question show but now he’s on ‘America’s Got Talent‘..“
“You mean Howard Stern?”
“Yes. That’s the guy.”
“Good. At least I don’t look like him. And you’re avoiding the question.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
“Ok. Yes, I have.”
“Yes, you have what?”
“There you go again.”
“I just wanted to experience hearing you actually saying it.”
“Saying what?”
“Saying, Yes, I’ve fucked more than one guy at the same time.”
“Yes. I’ve fucked more than one guy at the same time. Happy now?”
“Yes, but I’m supposed to be asking the questions.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. Did you enjoy it?”
“Enjoy what?”
“Fucking more than one guy at the same time.”
“No.”
“Why”
“Because my ex-husband was one of them.”
“So if he wasn’t one of them, you’d like it?”
“Probably.”
“Probably is not an answer. If your ex wasn’t one of them, would you like fucking more than one guy at a time?”
“Ok. Yes. I would like it.”
“In all of these situations, do you always let the guys cum in you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Even if you’re fucking more than one guy?”
She grinned wickedly.
“Especially if I’m fucking more than one guy.”
“Even the black guys?”
“Double-especially the black guys.”
“Double-especially? That’s a new word. But I’m getting off the subject. So is fucking black guys a bad thing?”
“I don’t know. I assumed you’d know after asking me all these goddam questions.”
“I will when I finish asking them. Are any of the things you’ve just told me bad things?”
She paused, her face taking on a thoughtful, quizzical look.
“No, they’re not really bad. Not really. Or are they?”
“No. Only if you think they are. Do you think they are?”
“No. Do you?”
“Would I if I were asking you all these questions?”
“I don’t know. Would you?”
We were both starting to snicker through our responses. I raised a finger to pause.
“Ok. Lemme try this angle. Have you ever been a dancer?”
“By dancer, you mean the exotic type, a stripper?”
“Yes. The exotic type .Have you ever been a stripper?”
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
“Yes I did.”
“Were you a topless or fully nude dancer?”
“Nude. That‘s the only way to go. Topless is for chicken shits.”
“Did you have ‘Regulars’ that would come to the club just to see you?”
“Of course. If I didn’t I wasn’t doing my job.. as I saw it anyway.”
“Good point. Did you ever see any of them outside of the club?”
“Sure.”
“Mostly black men.”
“Mostly, yes.”
“But white guys too?”
“Sure. I told you I love men.”
“Which ones?”
“Well duh. The ones with the biggest wallets, silly.”
“Sorry. That was a stupid question. So, ever been an escort?”
She looked at me intently. She started to tense up.
“Would it matter if I had?”
“Only as long as it was just white guys you charged. They should be charged because they usually have smaller dicks. Don‘t they?”
This sort of took her aback. She started to think on this for a second. Then she looked at me. She realized I was fucking with her. We burst out laughing.
“No more questions,” I laughed. “I rest my case.”
“You’re WAY in trouble, Mister,“ she said, waging a finger at me.
I raised both palms and twisted them in mock fear
“I’m shakin’ in my boots. But WAY-IN sounds pretty good.”
We laughed some more. Then a moment of silence passed.
“See?” I said. “No more worries about who you are. Zall good. All you have done, do, or will do is fine by me. Point is, you are you and I like just being with you. Because I like WYE-OH-EWE, ok? But I AM dying to know more about what a good bad girl does with her spare time.”
Then I added, “If she has any.”
She smiled wide, then seemed to her set her jaw at that. She suddenly stood up then and smoothed out her top and mini. She was just so fine to look at. She looked at me as her hand came up and then she slapped a twenty on the table. I stood up, reaching for my wallet, trying to protest. But she seized my free hand and took me from the restaurant in a rushed flurry of strutting leg and bouncing chest. I could almost feel the collective eyes as the whole place watched her lead me away.
“I’m going to SHOW you what a good bad girl does with her spare time,” she hissed in my ear, as we went out the door.
It is even more powerful because it comes from her u*********sly. She is not even aware of the totality she is. Like the slow flow in your veins of some mellow golden ambrosia; like the hot purr of raw power from the Ducati between your thighs down the long smooth straightaway of an empty highway in the desert somewhere under a full moon; like the smooth taste of a finely-aged bourbon or that rare single-malt scotch an old friend breaks out and brings by when you’re really down; like that fleeting smell of redwood at dawn when you awaken up in the high country; like that one perfect dandelion standing alone on that one perfect day in Spring when you take a long walk to think about something that was so important then but is now forgotten; such is the feeling you might get upon encountering such a woman.
Perhaps such a woman defies description. Women say that men cannot express their feelings. That is true but only to a point. Men certainly feel just as much, perhaps even more, because women simply cannot fathom the effect they can have on us. We seem to lack the ability to process it into words because deep down we still are solid, basic, simple, like rocks or trees or soil. I do know a tiny part of each man deep within is made of glass. We act cool or tough or whatever word you wish to use and we do so not because it’s who we actually are but because we do not want you to ever know where that tiny piece of glass is hidden, we do not want you to know how easily you can break us inside. So be careful the way you handle us.
For what its worth then, with no arrogance intended whatsoever and all presumption aside, allow me to speak for every man just this one time. Let the description I wrote above be the words in the mouth of any guy any where, any time, when he wants to tell you how you make him feel. Because I bet he’d say that that’s pretty close to how you make him feel when he‘s around you. Such is how she made me feel when I met her.
Her thighs and calves showed muscle whenever she walked. She had huge tits, 36 triple F, a special order bra size she explained. Her toe nails and finger nails were a matching hot pink color. She had a flat tummy, and an absolutely perfect bubble butt. I k** you not. It was the most beautiful ass I’d ever seen on a woman. She had high cheek bones and lips that were just right, not too full, but not thin. She had speckled pieces of amber for eyes. She had the most beautiful pussy, shaved totally, and always smooth and invitingly easy to lick. I never got tired of looking at her, touching her, having her.
When I took her out for the first time, she was by far the hottest woman I’d ever dated. And she turned every head anywhere we went. That was probably because she always wore very short mini skirts and low-cut tight tops showing ample cleavage. With the six inch pumps she had on, she walked with a natural ease that exuded sex. She’d obviously worn them before on a regular basis. Duly noted.
If she hadn’t been with me, I would have taken her for an escort or dancer off-work, she was that hot. I saw her return smiles and sometimes turn a hip at the appreciative guy-passer-by. But she did it in a way that was not disrespectful to me. That seems a bit exaggerated but it is true. It was just her way, natural, uninhibited. In fact, it turned me on even more.
When we sat down for lunch, I held her chair in the old-fashioned way of the gentleman. I made some joking comment about holding the chair, that I was doing it just so she’d know I was at least trying to show some class. She smiled and waved me off. But she thanked me by slowly taking her seat, twisting wide her thighs so that only I could see the pink wetness between them. Geesus, no panties.
“I’m impressed,” I said, smiling as I sat down. “You are a special woman.”
She lifted her brows.
“Really now. Why is that? Just because I don’t wear panties?” she asked pointedly, teasing.
“Well, umm, yes. But not just because you don‘t,” I answered. “But because you chose to let me know you don’t. Now I have to try like hell to have a normal conversation with you. You know that’s not fair.”
She giggled.
“Who decides what’s fair? Besides, most guys don’t handle it all that well. I mean they usually can’t just sit down and talk about it, like this.”
“Most guys?“ I said in mock seriousness. “You mean there’s been others before me?”
She grinned wide at that. Then she re-crossed her legs slowly.
“Only a few,” she said, putting a finger to her lips, mischievously,
“As I recall.”
I laughed then, but I had a huge hard-on, thinking of her beautiful no-pantied-smoothness pressed into my face. We ordered drinks and then lunch and talked. She was so easy on the eyes but that ease carried into her words too. It was such an easy thing, talking to her as well. She had raw sexual intimidation at her beckon call and she knew it. But instead she took that narrow path of not making a guy like me feel intimidated. That was new and much appreciated. First dates could be torture. I found myself sinking into her being, thinking how I could so get into the presence of this amazing woman. And not just her body, though that was a huge factor, I had to admit. But there was so much more to her. Lunch proceeded like a blur. I had to slow my thoughts down. This woman had the makings of that most elusive of creatures in every man’s mind, the endangered specie many men never have the pleasure to experience: the Whole Package.
We were finishing our last round of drinks when she spoke after a lull.
“I like you. So I want to tell you some things upfront, so you can choose if you want to have a second date with me. Because I know I do with you.”
She was serious and so direct. I wasn’t sure how to take this. What, was she some serial killer or something? I looked at her and blinked once or twice.
“I’m flattered,“ I said. “Of course I want a second date. What guy wouldn’t? But umm, we probably need to finish this one first, don‘t you think?“
She grinned back.
“You make me laugh. I don’t meet many guys that do that.”
“I just can’t imagine why?” I teased her, purposely looking at her tits.
She giggled again. Then I saw the chance to be serious.
“Ok. I’ll be straight for a second. So what things upfront are you talking about? Sounds very important. But that’s good. Try me,“
Put on the spot suddenly, she seemed unsure of where to start. So I cut in.
“I’m actually surprisingly flexible,”
This was my cue to look down at my lap, then back up at her, adding,
“Well, maybe ’flexible’ isn’t the perfect adverb right now.”
It came out sounding lame and contrived. She looked at me. I hung my head and shook it. Then when she realized I had tried real hard to make her laugh and flopped, she actually laughed fully then. And it was sweet, melodious, and real. Not the fake nervous kind. This was a babe that could be herself naturally. What a rarity. What a huge overwhelming turn on too. She curled her finger at me over the table. I leaned in over my plate.
“Listen. I like to fuck,” she said, leaning in closer. “I like to fuck a lot, and I like it spontaneously, and whenever I have the urge. I discovered that about myself after I left my husband. I realized how much it is an expression of my sexuality and must not be…umm”
Her eyes drifted up, searching for the right word…
“Imprisoned…”
Her face was just inches from mine. Her eyes were so intent and hopeful and open in the words she spoke. I felt her breath on my lips she was so close. She wanted understanding, acceptance, right then and there. I looked at her and smiled, returning her unfeigned openness. I nodded.
“Yes. I understand. Go on, please go on.”
“She looked down for a moment.
“I love men, but I‘m particularly drawn to black men“ she said, with a wistful look in her eye. She held my hand between hers suddenly, passionately,
“For years, I’d always wanted to try them out. So as soon as I left my ex I did. I was moving here when one waved at me going down the highway. He motioned me to pull over. Probably never thought in a million years that I would. But I did. And I fucked him in his car right there in the rest stop. Didn’t care if anyone saw us. Been seeing him off and on ever since. Nothing serious, never has been. Just fun and sex.“
I nodded and gulped. I tried to re-seat my self because of my raging erection. She smiled naughtily.
“Turns you on?”
“Of course,” I managed. That was an understatement.
She smiled back. I motioned for her to continue her story.
“Like I said, I love men, but I found out how much I love the attention of black men, the way they openly admire and compliment my body, and I love how they even talk about fucking me right to my face. God, that turns me on. It’s so..so honest.. so in your face. I love their music, their cool. And I love their cocks. I can’t get enough of their cocks, in my hand, mouth, ass, and most of all in my pussy.”
She looked to and fro to be sure our conversation was not being overheard.
“And I absolutely love the feel of their load, the feel of their hot cum shooting deep into me.”
Her eyes went murky and she quivered slightly, leaning back just a bit, closing her eyes in some personal ecstasy. I sucked in my breath slowly. WOW. I was shaking inside as she finished her confession. For a moment, I thought I might pop right there. I could feel the dribble of pre-cum on the inside of my slacks. She looked at me, I guess for a reaction. Then she started to tear up, as if she was about to cry.
“What’s wrong?” I asked in a hushed tone.
She sniffled, then, containing herself, wiped a quick nail at her eye to keep her make-up from running.
“You haven’t said anything. Is that it then? No comment? This is where a lot of guys just…just check out on me.”
“Huh? Check out on you? What…Why would I do that?”
“You’re k**ding?” she said quite surprised. “You don’t judge me for that? My own family is angry with me about this. I date a lot and I’ve reached the point where I’m totally honest about it right away. I will not hide my desires. I did that for too long in a bad marriage. But so many white guys can’t stand that. It’s an immediate turn off. Others lie and say they’ve no problem with it, when they really do. I don’t want that to happen again, not with a guy… a guy like you…that I really really like.”
I looked at her for a long moment.
“What an odd thing to say,“ I commented. “Look at yourself. You’re a walking perfection of the female anatomy. You carry yourself unaware of the symphony that plays all around you with every step you take. You can have any man you want. Any. So how could any man think he has the right to judge you or possess you? And screw your family. As for me, I feel like I died and went to some new heaven just having you sitting across from me at this table. How could anything about you possibly make me not want to see you anymore?”
She seemed genuinely speechless. So I went on.
“You don’t believe me, do you? Let me ask you some questions, then.”
She nodded. Her tits moved with the nods. Her nipples were erect. This was turning her on, in a new and confusing kind of way. I wanted to shake the cobwebs out of my brain. Had she actually said that she really really liked me? This fucking dripping-hot, sexual goddess genuinely liked me? Me?
I let out a long sigh.
“Ok. Relax,” I said. “This will be easy and fun. But you have to answer each question quickly.”
She nodded again. Her tits agreed too, nipples in particular.
“ So here goes,” I grinned. “Ready?”
“Yes,” she said, huskily.
She’d clearly paid a price just for being who she was. It always pissed me off to see women damaged in that way, just for being beautiful, just for being who they are. I was determined to make this way less heavy-duty, way less serious, differently new and unthreatening for her. In one word, comedic. Nothing closer to a woman’s heart than the simple joy of laughter. I leaned close in this time. I could feel her relaxing. That was good.
“Question number 1. Are you seeing black men now?”
“Yes.”
“Question number 2. More than one?”
“Yes.”
“Question number 3.”
I paused for a moment. “Fuck the Question numbers.”
She giggled. “Ok”
“How many different black men are you seeing right now.”
“Three regularly, a fourth, sometimes.”
“Why sometimes?”
She frowned.
“Because he can be a real asshole sometimes.”
“But you like his cock?”
“Oh yes,” she relied, flashing a smile.
“Soo.. You go out with each of these guys regularly?”
“Yes. About once a week.”
“And you fuck each whenever you go out with them?”
“Yes. That’s why I go out with them and why they ask me to go out.”
“Because they know you love to fuck black men?”
“Yes.”
“Any other reason?”
“Do I need another?”
“Is it also because they know they can fuck you anytime, anywhere while you’re with them?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you fuck them anytime, anywhere?”
“Yes. They’re usually quite aggressive and uninhibited and want that in any woman they’re with.”
“What else?”
“Because I give great head. Most black women do not, or so they say.”
“Yes. I’ve heard that too. Do you fuck all of them whenever you all go out?”
“You asked me that already.”
“No. I asked about ‘all’ in this question, not ‘each’.”
“Oh, ok. I’ve never been out with all of them at one time.”
“If you ever were out with all of them, would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Fuck all of them.”
“What do you think I am?”
“You’re awesome is what I think you am. Answer the question.”
“I’d never really thought about it. They don’t even know each other. Well, actually two of them do. So..maybe. Yes, I suppose I would.”
“Would what?”
“Silly man. You can’t keep track of your own questions.”
“So you would?”
“Would what?
“Fuck them all?”
“I said yes. And I definitely would, now that I think about it.”
“Have you ever had more than one guy at a time before?”
“What is this, 20 Questions?”
“No. We’re way passed 20 now. So have you?”
“You’re making my head hurt.”
“You’re making my head hurt too. Both of them.”
“You’re starting to sound like that geeky guy that used to have the radio sex question show but now he’s on ‘America’s Got Talent‘..“
“You mean Howard Stern?”
“Yes. That’s the guy.”
“Good. At least I don’t look like him. And you’re avoiding the question.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
“Ok. Yes, I have.”
“Yes, you have what?”
“There you go again.”
“I just wanted to experience hearing you actually saying it.”
“Saying what?”
“Saying, Yes, I’ve fucked more than one guy at the same time.”
“Yes. I’ve fucked more than one guy at the same time. Happy now?”
“Yes, but I’m supposed to be asking the questions.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. Did you enjoy it?”
“Enjoy what?”
“Fucking more than one guy at the same time.”
“No.”
“Why”
“Because my ex-husband was one of them.”
“So if he wasn’t one of them, you’d like it?”
“Probably.”
“Probably is not an answer. If your ex wasn’t one of them, would you like fucking more than one guy at a time?”
“Ok. Yes. I would like it.”
“In all of these situations, do you always let the guys cum in you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Even if you’re fucking more than one guy?”
She grinned wickedly.
“Especially if I’m fucking more than one guy.”
“Even the black guys?”
“Double-especially the black guys.”
“Double-especially? That’s a new word. But I’m getting off the subject. So is fucking black guys a bad thing?”
“I don’t know. I assumed you’d know after asking me all these goddam questions.”
“I will when I finish asking them. Are any of the things you’ve just told me bad things?”
She paused, her face taking on a thoughtful, quizzical look.
“No, they’re not really bad. Not really. Or are they?”
“No. Only if you think they are. Do you think they are?”
“No. Do you?”
“Would I if I were asking you all these questions?”
“I don’t know. Would you?”
We were both starting to snicker through our responses. I raised a finger to pause.
“Ok. Lemme try this angle. Have you ever been a dancer?”
“By dancer, you mean the exotic type, a stripper?”
“Yes. The exotic type .Have you ever been a stripper?”
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
“Yes I did.”
“Were you a topless or fully nude dancer?”
“Nude. That‘s the only way to go. Topless is for chicken shits.”
“Did you have ‘Regulars’ that would come to the club just to see you?”
“Of course. If I didn’t I wasn’t doing my job.. as I saw it anyway.”
“Good point. Did you ever see any of them outside of the club?”
“Sure.”
“Mostly black men.”
“Mostly, yes.”
“But white guys too?”
“Sure. I told you I love men.”
“Which ones?”
“Well duh. The ones with the biggest wallets, silly.”
“Sorry. That was a stupid question. So, ever been an escort?”
She looked at me intently. She started to tense up.
“Would it matter if I had?”
“Only as long as it was just white guys you charged. They should be charged because they usually have smaller dicks. Don‘t they?”
This sort of took her aback. She started to think on this for a second. Then she looked at me. She realized I was fucking with her. We burst out laughing.
“No more questions,” I laughed. “I rest my case.”
“You’re WAY in trouble, Mister,“ she said, waging a finger at me.
I raised both palms and twisted them in mock fear
“I’m shakin’ in my boots. But WAY-IN sounds pretty good.”
We laughed some more. Then a moment of silence passed.
“See?” I said. “No more worries about who you are. Zall good. All you have done, do, or will do is fine by me. Point is, you are you and I like just being with you. Because I like WYE-OH-EWE, ok? But I AM dying to know more about what a good bad girl does with her spare time.”
Then I added, “If she has any.”
She smiled wide, then seemed to her set her jaw at that. She suddenly stood up then and smoothed out her top and mini. She was just so fine to look at. She looked at me as her hand came up and then she slapped a twenty on the table. I stood up, reaching for my wallet, trying to protest. But she seized my free hand and took me from the restaurant in a rushed flurry of strutting leg and bouncing chest. I could almost feel the collective eyes as the whole place watched her lead me away.
“I’m going to SHOW you what a good bad girl does with her spare time,” she hissed in my ear, as we went out the door.
Cathalina
- 27.03.2020
- 17
- 0
