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Boi Tricks Thug free porn video
“Damn! This sissy ass be so good,” the chocolate colored thug confessed as he pushed his nine inch dick back into CiCi’s rectum.
“That dick feels good in my faggot ass boipussy,” the eager effeminate bottom replied.
“Take that dick,” the aggressive man bellowed gripping CiCi’s generous Afro.
“Fuck me, nigga! Fuck me like a prison bitch.”
“Hell yeah! Take that dick in that prison ass!”
The bed creaked beneath their bodies. The married twenty-something flipped the short waifish bubble butt boi onto his back. He pushed CiCi’s legs back and rammed his fat member back inside the loosening hole. “That ass wet as hell,” he remarked. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto CiCi’s puffy erect nipples. “I love fucking this faggot ass,” he announced pounding harder. CiCi’s boipussy farted. “Goddamn! This big dick makin’ that pussy talk,” the tall athletically built man laughed.
“Fuck this bitch ass faggot pussy, nigga! Fuck me,” CiCi wailed loudly most assured disturbing his neighbors in the adjoining townhouse.
“You finna make me nut,” the thug huffed.
“Nut in that faggot boipussy. Breed my pussy ass, daddy.”
“Awwwww shit,” the dominant rough neck howled as his cum flooded CiCi’s inner sanctum and he collapsed.
“You gonna mess around and get me pregnant,” CiCi giggled.
“Hell yeah,” the thug laughed. “Can I get a rag?”
CiCi stumbled slightly as he walked into his master bathroom to retrieve a warm washcloth. He returned momentarily and went about cleaning up his part-time lover. “Ooh wee,” the warehouse worker barked. “You be wearing me out.”
“That’s a good thing,” CiCi countered.
“Hell yeah,” he smiled. “I better get home. When you want me to come back?”
“How about Sunday?”
“Yeah. Just text me.”
CiCi walked his departing guest to the door. He locked it behind him and swallowed the remainder of his gin. He looked at the window to watch the fine ass brother walk to his jet black 1997 Cadillac DeVille. Always slightly buzzed before letting that b**st of a dick ravage his tight hole, CiCi was now craving greasy food. He decided to head out for some chili cheese fries. He threw on a pair of shorts, a graphic tie, and a headscarf. He started up his white 2011 Hyundai Genesis Coupe and backed out of the driveway.
He turned onto the street and crept towards the stop sign. He decided to cruise past the rec center to see if any sexy dudes were playing basketball on the outdoor courts. Surprisingly, there was no game happening. He made a couple of quick turns to get back on his desired route when he noticed a sexy very light-skinned shirtless brother with endless tattoos covering his torso. As CiCi drove past slowly the two made eye contact. The handsome young man motioned for CiCi to pull over. He approached the park car and CiCi lowered the passenger side window a tad.
“Wassup,” he greeted CiCi.
“Just heading to the store,” CiCi admitted. “What about you?”
“I’m walking back home. You got a number?”
“Yeah,” CiCi answered as the pedestrian typed it into his phone.
“What’s yo’ name?”
“CiCi.”
“Alright. I’m Boston. I’ma call you later.”
“Need a ride?”
“Nah. I live right over there,” he pointed. “I’ll call you in a couple hours boo.”
CiCi drove off and studied his swagger in the rear view mirror.
Back at home and settled on the couch, his phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Is this CiCi,” the voice inquired.
“Yes it is,” he replied.
“That’s wassup. This Boston. Whatchu doin’?
“I’m just watching some T.V.”
“Aiight then, sexy! How old you is?”
“I’m 34.”
“Damn! You look young as fuck for real though. I thought you was my age.”
“How old are you,” CiCi chuckled.
“Twenty-three. So when we gon’ chill?”
“We can chill whenever. You know I’m a boi right?”
“You a what,” Boston asked in disbelief.
“A boy,” CiCi repeated slowly.
“I don’t think I heard you right. You said you is a boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“A B-O-Y,” he spelled the final work of his question.
“Exactly.”
“You tricked the fuck outta me. I don’t do men,” Boston shared baffled.
“I’m not a man,” CiCi disagreed.
“You just said you was a boy.”
“Yes, but nothing about me is manly.”
“Ain’t you got a dick?”
“But it doesn’t work like yours.”
“What you tryin’ to say?”
“Yours gets hard. Mine doesn’t.”
“You piss with it, don’t you?”
“Always sitting down though.”
“Why it don’t get hard,” Boston inquired.
“Cause I took hormones.”
“What kinda hormones? What all they do?”
“Estrogen and a testosterone blocker. They soften your body and make you more womanly,” CiCi shared.
“So do it give you a fat ass like woman?”
“I have a round bubble booty.”
“Why you try to trick me though,” Boston pondered.
“I didn’t trick you. You flagged me down. You asked for my number. And you asked my name. I didn’t lie. “You said you wanted to chill so I wanted make sure you knew I was a femboi.”
“What’s that?”
“A boi that is very girly,” CiCi explained.
“Aiight. Look I’ma get off this phone. I might hit you back.”
CiCi selected three photos from his phone’s image gallery – each a revealing shot of beautifully round glistening chocolate ass. He texted them to Boston and returned his focus to the episode of ‘House of Cards’ he had paused when the phone rang. Within thirty minutes, Boston was calling again.
“Hello,” CiCi said.
“Who is that in them pics,” Boston asked.
“It’s me.”
“Hell naw. That’s a chick’s ass.”
“That chick is me.”
“Shit. I can’t believe I couldn’t tell you was a dude.”
“Most people can’t tell.”
“So you be gettin’ fucked in the ass,” pressed Boston.
“Yes I love it,” CiCi said with conviction.
“Oh shit. So you love it? When’s the last time you got fucked?”
“Last weekend. Saturday,” CiCi lied.
“How you met him.”
“At the grocery store a few years back.”
“Oh he from around here?”
“He lives outta town.”
“Damn,” Boston laughed. “I can’t believe this shit. I gotta go.”
CiCi was enjoying the rest of the show along with some more gin when Boston rang his phone yet again.
“Yes, sir,” CiCi mused into the phone.
“Whatchu doin’,” Boston inquired.
“I’m still watching T.V.”
“Do them hormones give you titties?”
“I have small ones.”
“Oh okay. Can you run me to the store? I don’t feel like walking.”
“What’s up? Can’t somebody else take you? If you’re not interested in me I understand. Let’s just part ways.”
“Why is you actin’ all scary? I ain’t gon’ hurt you. It’s just dark as fuck and I don’t feel like walkin’. So come take me to the store.”
“Alright. Give me ten minutes.”
CiCi threw on a purple tank top with lace trimming and some cutoff denim shorts. He sprayed a waft of vanilla cupcake scented bod mist into the air and twirled through it. He grabbed the keys to his car and headed out the door. He called Boston to get the exact location of where he lived. It only took CiCi four minutes to arrive at the apartment complex. He unlocked the door. Boston hopped in.
“Hey what’s up,” Boston asked fumbling in his right pocket.
“What are you doing,” CiCi asked nervously.
“Man calm down. I’m just tryna to find some change. You got a quarter?”
“Yeah,” CiCi fished a coin out of the ashtray.
“What store you goin’ to?”
“Mr. P’s. Is that cool.”
“Yeah man. Slow down.”
“I’m not driving fast. Chill out,” CiCi protested as he pulled into the parking lot.
“Don’t park over there. I don’t know if them people know you,” Boston said.
“They don’t know,” CiCi reassured him. “I’ll just pull up beside the building.”
“Okay, cool,” he replied as he touched CiCi’s arm before opening the door. “Damn, you soft like a girl too.”
Boston exited the vehicle. CiCi waited until he returned and drove him back to his complex.
“Pull up in there and drive to the back,” Boston instructed the driver.
“What’s back there,” CiCi quizzed him.
“I’m just tryna make so you can drive straight back out without turnin’ around. Calm down. Damn!”
“Okay cool.”
“Let me see them titties,” Boston ordered.
CiCi pulled down his tank top and said, “Here!”
“Aiight. Yeah. I’ma go now. I’ma call you tomorrow.”
CiCi drove back home and before he got in the door, Boston was calling.
“Yes dear,” CiCi answered the phone.
“Hey. What you bout to do,” Boston asked.
“I’m going to relax. You wanna come over?”
“What we gon’ do?”
“Relax. Talk. Have a drink?”
“Whatchu got to drink on ?”
“I have some gin, some Crown, and some Bud Light.”
“You tryna get a nigga drunk.”
“No I’m not. You asked what I had. I just told you. You wanna come over?”
“What if I wanna fuck,” quizzed Boston.
“Then you can fuck me,” CiCi replied matter-of-factly.
“Shit…I dunno. I wanna come over. But damn…”
“But what?”
“I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Scared I might like it too much.”
“We don’t have to fuck. We can just chill,” CiCi relented
“So you gon’ let me come over there and we just hang out,” Boston asked.
“Yes.”
“But if I drink, I’ma wanna fuck. But damn I wish you had long hair.”
“You want me to wear a wig?”
“Yeah. That’ll be better.”
“Alright, I’ll put one on. When do you wanna come?”
“I’m still thinkin’. Lemme call you back.”
CiCi ran upstairs to his master bathroom and began another round of douching. He was certain his asshole was squeaky clean, but wanted to take zero chances with a first timer like Boston. He ran through two cycles and was satisfied that he would not be inadvertently ‘painting’ Boston’s dick if they did fuck. He jumped in the shower to wash off. The phone began to ring and CiCi bolted.
“Hello,” CiCi answered.
“Yeah. How long it gon’ take you to get here?”
“I just got out the shower. Give me twenty minutes.”
“Yeah. Just hit me up when you get outside.”
With that, Boston ended the call. CiCi rushed into slut mode. He lit candles – a strawberries & cream scented one in his bedroom and a Tahitian vanilla one in the living room. He lathered his entire five-foot-four-inch body with a concoction of lotion and baby oil. Next, he selected a pair of lavender thigh high socks that were embellished with yellow hearts. He slid on a pair of spandex boy short panties that were made to look like Daisy Dukes. Quickly, he chose silver sequined stilettos. He donned a black bustier style top and remarked in the mirror how sensuous he appeared. He sprayed himself with the vanilla cupcake body mist generously. Next he brushed mineral glow make-up powder onto his face. Almost done, he affixed a stocking cap to his head and put on a dark-brown wet-look loose curl wig with copper highlights, His final act was to apply raspberry lemonade lip gloss to his full mouth.
CiCi headed to the garage and started his car. He backed out of his driveway carefully. He drove deliberately obeying every traffic law he could remember. He reached the Golden Orchard Apartments and grabbed Virgin Mobile prepaid cell phone. He placed a call to Boston letting him know he was outside. Within a few minutes, the sexy five-foot-ten-inch suave Negro appeared.
“Can you run me back by the store? I need to get another Black & Mild,” Boston started.
CiCi wanted to protest, but said, “Sure can.”
Boston retrieved his cigarillo form the store and came back to the car. CiCi maneuvered the vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the street. CiCi opened the garage door when they arrived at his house. Both of them got out with CiCi leading the way. Boston yowled, “Damn! You lookin’ sexy as fuck for real though.”
“Thank you, daddy,” CiCi replied seductively.
“You tryna make a nigga wanna fuck you in the ass,” Boston declared.
“You can’t **** the willing,” CiCi smarted off. “You can have a seat over there on the couch. What do you want to drink?”
“You still got that Crown?”
“Yes I do. Do you want some Coke to go with it?”
“Nah. Just a li’l ice for real though.”
“Coming right up,” CiCi acknowledged before disappearing into the kitchen.
CiCi returned to the living room carrying two blue plastic cups of ice, a small bottle of Crown Royal, and a liter of gin. He handed one cup and the whiskey to Boston. He poured the white liquor for himself. CiCi surfed for a movie on Netflix and settled on an action flick.
“I’m glad you decided to come chill,” CiCi announced.
“Yeah. I was bored as fuck at home,” Boston confessed.
Boston and CiCi remained relatively quiet for the next thirty minutes. Boston refilled his cup a couple of times. Once he felt a buzz, he began caressing CiCi’s leg. “Yeah, you soft just like a bitch. You be getting’ fucked a lot,” he asked.
“I get fucked occasionally,” CiCi amended the truth.
“You want me to fuck that ass, don’t you,” Boston wanted to know.
“That’s up to you, sexy.”
“So you think I’m sexy? That’s wassup.”
“I mean you look alright.”
“I bet this dick look good though.”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it.”
“Here,” Boston replied placing CiCi’s hand at his crotch. “Feel that?”
“Ooh it’s big,” CiCi cooed.
“Can you handle it?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well put that mouth on it then,” Boston commanded.
CiCi complied with the order. Boston began moaning almost instantaneously.
“Goddamn. Ain’t nobody never sucked it like that befoe,” Boston divulge. “Suck that muthafucka.”
Boston continued sipping on his Canadian whiskey as CiCi exercised his neck.
“That ass tight,” Boston asked.
“Yeh thir,” CiCi grunted with a mouthful of Boston’s ten inch dick.
“Aiight then. I’ma fuck you good. Toot that ass up.”
CiCi stood up and led Boston to the staircase. When they entered the master bedroom, CiCi dropped his panties and climbed atop the bed. Boston declared, “You gotta ass just like a woman.” Pleased to hear it, CiCi wiggled his booty. Boston slapped the ample derriere. CiCi cried out. “Shut the fuck up, bitch! You know you want this,” Boston yelled. CiCi rubbed a fair amount of petroleum jelly into his asshole. Boston spread his feet shoulder-length apart and put the head of his dick at CiCi’s warm waiting hole.
CiCi pushed back. Boston thrust forward.
“Goddamn! That ass tight,” Boston said.
“Fuck me like a real bitch,” CiCi purred.
“Hell yeah, bitch!”
“I’m your faggot bitch,” CiCi screamed.
“Goddamn!”
“Fuck me like I’m your prison bitch! Fuck me!”
“Oh shit. I’m finna nut in this ass.”
“Cum baby. Cum in that faggot ass!”
Boston pumped faster and felt himself nearing completion.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck,” he yelled as he balls released an eruption of his seed.
“Yessssss,” howled CiCi. “That cum feels so good in my boipussy.”
Boston pulled out and rolled onto the bed. “I can’t believe you done turned me out. Get me another drink, bitch,” he demanded.
“That dick feels good in my faggot ass boipussy,” the eager effeminate bottom replied.
“Take that dick,” the aggressive man bellowed gripping CiCi’s generous Afro.
“Fuck me, nigga! Fuck me like a prison bitch.”
“Hell yeah! Take that dick in that prison ass!”
The bed creaked beneath their bodies. The married twenty-something flipped the short waifish bubble butt boi onto his back. He pushed CiCi’s legs back and rammed his fat member back inside the loosening hole. “That ass wet as hell,” he remarked. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto CiCi’s puffy erect nipples. “I love fucking this faggot ass,” he announced pounding harder. CiCi’s boipussy farted. “Goddamn! This big dick makin’ that pussy talk,” the tall athletically built man laughed.
“Fuck this bitch ass faggot pussy, nigga! Fuck me,” CiCi wailed loudly most assured disturbing his neighbors in the adjoining townhouse.
“You finna make me nut,” the thug huffed.
“Nut in that faggot boipussy. Breed my pussy ass, daddy.”
“Awwwww shit,” the dominant rough neck howled as his cum flooded CiCi’s inner sanctum and he collapsed.
“You gonna mess around and get me pregnant,” CiCi giggled.
“Hell yeah,” the thug laughed. “Can I get a rag?”
CiCi stumbled slightly as he walked into his master bathroom to retrieve a warm washcloth. He returned momentarily and went about cleaning up his part-time lover. “Ooh wee,” the warehouse worker barked. “You be wearing me out.”
“That’s a good thing,” CiCi countered.
“Hell yeah,” he smiled. “I better get home. When you want me to come back?”
“How about Sunday?”
“Yeah. Just text me.”
CiCi walked his departing guest to the door. He locked it behind him and swallowed the remainder of his gin. He looked at the window to watch the fine ass brother walk to his jet black 1997 Cadillac DeVille. Always slightly buzzed before letting that b**st of a dick ravage his tight hole, CiCi was now craving greasy food. He decided to head out for some chili cheese fries. He threw on a pair of shorts, a graphic tie, and a headscarf. He started up his white 2011 Hyundai Genesis Coupe and backed out of the driveway.
He turned onto the street and crept towards the stop sign. He decided to cruise past the rec center to see if any sexy dudes were playing basketball on the outdoor courts. Surprisingly, there was no game happening. He made a couple of quick turns to get back on his desired route when he noticed a sexy very light-skinned shirtless brother with endless tattoos covering his torso. As CiCi drove past slowly the two made eye contact. The handsome young man motioned for CiCi to pull over. He approached the park car and CiCi lowered the passenger side window a tad.
“Wassup,” he greeted CiCi.
“Just heading to the store,” CiCi admitted. “What about you?”
“I’m walking back home. You got a number?”
“Yeah,” CiCi answered as the pedestrian typed it into his phone.
“What’s yo’ name?”
“CiCi.”
“Alright. I’m Boston. I’ma call you later.”
“Need a ride?”
“Nah. I live right over there,” he pointed. “I’ll call you in a couple hours boo.”
CiCi drove off and studied his swagger in the rear view mirror.
Back at home and settled on the couch, his phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Is this CiCi,” the voice inquired.
“Yes it is,” he replied.
“That’s wassup. This Boston. Whatchu doin’?
“I’m just watching some T.V.”
“Aiight then, sexy! How old you is?”
“I’m 34.”
“Damn! You look young as fuck for real though. I thought you was my age.”
“How old are you,” CiCi chuckled.
“Twenty-three. So when we gon’ chill?”
“We can chill whenever. You know I’m a boi right?”
“You a what,” Boston asked in disbelief.
“A boy,” CiCi repeated slowly.
“I don’t think I heard you right. You said you is a boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“A B-O-Y,” he spelled the final work of his question.
“Exactly.”
“You tricked the fuck outta me. I don’t do men,” Boston shared baffled.
“I’m not a man,” CiCi disagreed.
“You just said you was a boy.”
“Yes, but nothing about me is manly.”
“Ain’t you got a dick?”
“But it doesn’t work like yours.”
“What you tryin’ to say?”
“Yours gets hard. Mine doesn’t.”
“You piss with it, don’t you?”
“Always sitting down though.”
“Why it don’t get hard,” Boston inquired.
“Cause I took hormones.”
“What kinda hormones? What all they do?”
“Estrogen and a testosterone blocker. They soften your body and make you more womanly,” CiCi shared.
“So do it give you a fat ass like woman?”
“I have a round bubble booty.”
“Why you try to trick me though,” Boston pondered.
“I didn’t trick you. You flagged me down. You asked for my number. And you asked my name. I didn’t lie. “You said you wanted to chill so I wanted make sure you knew I was a femboi.”
“What’s that?”
“A boi that is very girly,” CiCi explained.
“Aiight. Look I’ma get off this phone. I might hit you back.”
CiCi selected three photos from his phone’s image gallery – each a revealing shot of beautifully round glistening chocolate ass. He texted them to Boston and returned his focus to the episode of ‘House of Cards’ he had paused when the phone rang. Within thirty minutes, Boston was calling again.
“Hello,” CiCi said.
“Who is that in them pics,” Boston asked.
“It’s me.”
“Hell naw. That’s a chick’s ass.”
“That chick is me.”
“Shit. I can’t believe I couldn’t tell you was a dude.”
“Most people can’t tell.”
“So you be gettin’ fucked in the ass,” pressed Boston.
“Yes I love it,” CiCi said with conviction.
“Oh shit. So you love it? When’s the last time you got fucked?”
“Last weekend. Saturday,” CiCi lied.
“How you met him.”
“At the grocery store a few years back.”
“Oh he from around here?”
“He lives outta town.”
“Damn,” Boston laughed. “I can’t believe this shit. I gotta go.”
CiCi was enjoying the rest of the show along with some more gin when Boston rang his phone yet again.
“Yes, sir,” CiCi mused into the phone.
“Whatchu doin’,” Boston inquired.
“I’m still watching T.V.”
“Do them hormones give you titties?”
“I have small ones.”
“Oh okay. Can you run me to the store? I don’t feel like walking.”
“What’s up? Can’t somebody else take you? If you’re not interested in me I understand. Let’s just part ways.”
“Why is you actin’ all scary? I ain’t gon’ hurt you. It’s just dark as fuck and I don’t feel like walkin’. So come take me to the store.”
“Alright. Give me ten minutes.”
CiCi threw on a purple tank top with lace trimming and some cutoff denim shorts. He sprayed a waft of vanilla cupcake scented bod mist into the air and twirled through it. He grabbed the keys to his car and headed out the door. He called Boston to get the exact location of where he lived. It only took CiCi four minutes to arrive at the apartment complex. He unlocked the door. Boston hopped in.
“Hey what’s up,” Boston asked fumbling in his right pocket.
“What are you doing,” CiCi asked nervously.
“Man calm down. I’m just tryna to find some change. You got a quarter?”
“Yeah,” CiCi fished a coin out of the ashtray.
“What store you goin’ to?”
“Mr. P’s. Is that cool.”
“Yeah man. Slow down.”
“I’m not driving fast. Chill out,” CiCi protested as he pulled into the parking lot.
“Don’t park over there. I don’t know if them people know you,” Boston said.
“They don’t know,” CiCi reassured him. “I’ll just pull up beside the building.”
“Okay, cool,” he replied as he touched CiCi’s arm before opening the door. “Damn, you soft like a girl too.”
Boston exited the vehicle. CiCi waited until he returned and drove him back to his complex.
“Pull up in there and drive to the back,” Boston instructed the driver.
“What’s back there,” CiCi quizzed him.
“I’m just tryna make so you can drive straight back out without turnin’ around. Calm down. Damn!”
“Okay cool.”
“Let me see them titties,” Boston ordered.
CiCi pulled down his tank top and said, “Here!”
“Aiight. Yeah. I’ma go now. I’ma call you tomorrow.”
CiCi drove back home and before he got in the door, Boston was calling.
“Yes dear,” CiCi answered the phone.
“Hey. What you bout to do,” Boston asked.
“I’m going to relax. You wanna come over?”
“What we gon’ do?”
“Relax. Talk. Have a drink?”
“Whatchu got to drink on ?”
“I have some gin, some Crown, and some Bud Light.”
“You tryna get a nigga drunk.”
“No I’m not. You asked what I had. I just told you. You wanna come over?”
“What if I wanna fuck,” quizzed Boston.
“Then you can fuck me,” CiCi replied matter-of-factly.
“Shit…I dunno. I wanna come over. But damn…”
“But what?”
“I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Scared I might like it too much.”
“We don’t have to fuck. We can just chill,” CiCi relented
“So you gon’ let me come over there and we just hang out,” Boston asked.
“Yes.”
“But if I drink, I’ma wanna fuck. But damn I wish you had long hair.”
“You want me to wear a wig?”
“Yeah. That’ll be better.”
“Alright, I’ll put one on. When do you wanna come?”
“I’m still thinkin’. Lemme call you back.”
CiCi ran upstairs to his master bathroom and began another round of douching. He was certain his asshole was squeaky clean, but wanted to take zero chances with a first timer like Boston. He ran through two cycles and was satisfied that he would not be inadvertently ‘painting’ Boston’s dick if they did fuck. He jumped in the shower to wash off. The phone began to ring and CiCi bolted.
“Hello,” CiCi answered.
“Yeah. How long it gon’ take you to get here?”
“I just got out the shower. Give me twenty minutes.”
“Yeah. Just hit me up when you get outside.”
With that, Boston ended the call. CiCi rushed into slut mode. He lit candles – a strawberries & cream scented one in his bedroom and a Tahitian vanilla one in the living room. He lathered his entire five-foot-four-inch body with a concoction of lotion and baby oil. Next, he selected a pair of lavender thigh high socks that were embellished with yellow hearts. He slid on a pair of spandex boy short panties that were made to look like Daisy Dukes. Quickly, he chose silver sequined stilettos. He donned a black bustier style top and remarked in the mirror how sensuous he appeared. He sprayed himself with the vanilla cupcake body mist generously. Next he brushed mineral glow make-up powder onto his face. Almost done, he affixed a stocking cap to his head and put on a dark-brown wet-look loose curl wig with copper highlights, His final act was to apply raspberry lemonade lip gloss to his full mouth.
CiCi headed to the garage and started his car. He backed out of his driveway carefully. He drove deliberately obeying every traffic law he could remember. He reached the Golden Orchard Apartments and grabbed Virgin Mobile prepaid cell phone. He placed a call to Boston letting him know he was outside. Within a few minutes, the sexy five-foot-ten-inch suave Negro appeared.
“Can you run me back by the store? I need to get another Black & Mild,” Boston started.
CiCi wanted to protest, but said, “Sure can.”
Boston retrieved his cigarillo form the store and came back to the car. CiCi maneuvered the vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the street. CiCi opened the garage door when they arrived at his house. Both of them got out with CiCi leading the way. Boston yowled, “Damn! You lookin’ sexy as fuck for real though.”
“Thank you, daddy,” CiCi replied seductively.
“You tryna make a nigga wanna fuck you in the ass,” Boston declared.
“You can’t **** the willing,” CiCi smarted off. “You can have a seat over there on the couch. What do you want to drink?”
“You still got that Crown?”
“Yes I do. Do you want some Coke to go with it?”
“Nah. Just a li’l ice for real though.”
“Coming right up,” CiCi acknowledged before disappearing into the kitchen.
CiCi returned to the living room carrying two blue plastic cups of ice, a small bottle of Crown Royal, and a liter of gin. He handed one cup and the whiskey to Boston. He poured the white liquor for himself. CiCi surfed for a movie on Netflix and settled on an action flick.
“I’m glad you decided to come chill,” CiCi announced.
“Yeah. I was bored as fuck at home,” Boston confessed.
Boston and CiCi remained relatively quiet for the next thirty minutes. Boston refilled his cup a couple of times. Once he felt a buzz, he began caressing CiCi’s leg. “Yeah, you soft just like a bitch. You be getting’ fucked a lot,” he asked.
“I get fucked occasionally,” CiCi amended the truth.
“You want me to fuck that ass, don’t you,” Boston wanted to know.
“That’s up to you, sexy.”
“So you think I’m sexy? That’s wassup.”
“I mean you look alright.”
“I bet this dick look good though.”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it.”
“Here,” Boston replied placing CiCi’s hand at his crotch. “Feel that?”
“Ooh it’s big,” CiCi cooed.
“Can you handle it?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well put that mouth on it then,” Boston commanded.
CiCi complied with the order. Boston began moaning almost instantaneously.
“Goddamn. Ain’t nobody never sucked it like that befoe,” Boston divulge. “Suck that muthafucka.”
Boston continued sipping on his Canadian whiskey as CiCi exercised his neck.
“That ass tight,” Boston asked.
“Yeh thir,” CiCi grunted with a mouthful of Boston’s ten inch dick.
“Aiight then. I’ma fuck you good. Toot that ass up.”
CiCi stood up and led Boston to the staircase. When they entered the master bedroom, CiCi dropped his panties and climbed atop the bed. Boston declared, “You gotta ass just like a woman.” Pleased to hear it, CiCi wiggled his booty. Boston slapped the ample derriere. CiCi cried out. “Shut the fuck up, bitch! You know you want this,” Boston yelled. CiCi rubbed a fair amount of petroleum jelly into his asshole. Boston spread his feet shoulder-length apart and put the head of his dick at CiCi’s warm waiting hole.
CiCi pushed back. Boston thrust forward.
“Goddamn! That ass tight,” Boston said.
“Fuck me like a real bitch,” CiCi purred.
“Hell yeah, bitch!”
“I’m your faggot bitch,” CiCi screamed.
“Goddamn!”
“Fuck me like I’m your prison bitch! Fuck me!”
“Oh shit. I’m finna nut in this ass.”
“Cum baby. Cum in that faggot ass!”
Boston pumped faster and felt himself nearing completion.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck,” he yelled as he balls released an eruption of his seed.
“Yessssss,” howled CiCi. “That cum feels so good in my boipussy.”
Boston pulled out and rolled onto the bed. “I can’t believe you done turned me out. Get me another drink, bitch,” he demanded.
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