The couple Afterparty
- 4 years ago
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Sex After Life Part 2 free porn video
I left the bar knowing exactly what I was going to say. As I parked my car outside of Roxy’s house, I took a minute to gather my confidence and went up to the door. It was slightly open and I could smell something cooking.
“Roxy! Where are you?”
“Oh, hey there! I figured you were probably hungry so I decided to make your favorite: carne asada.”
Roxy had also changed. Gone were the basic jeans and t-shirt, she now had on a pair of tight-fitting yoga pants and a sports bra. She knew exactly what I liked and she was going all out to beg for forgiveness.
“Look I’m not hungry and I’m not going to negotiate. You need money and I need somewhere to stay for the next year or so. Here’s what’s going to happen: I’ll pay you $15,000 for the entire year upfront. In exchange, you leave me the fuck alone. We don’t talk, we don’t hang out. We’re just roommates. Deal?”
Roxy was crushed, but she knew it was a good idea to accept. She really needed the money and getting it all upfront was better than relying on some stranger to pay under-the-table every month. Plus, her son lived with her, so she would have to get a background check on everyone who moved in. With me, that wasn’t necessary.
Trying to hold back tears, Roxy nodded slowly. “Ok Jake,” she managed. “Deal.”
I cut her a check, walked out of her house, and immediately went to Ikea and bought a bed, a dresser, some lamps; the basics. I moved in and to her credit, Roxy only gave me hopeful glances when I passed by her. She never tried to strike up a conversation, but she always dressed super sexy. She knew I always loved her tight ass and her firm, round breasts. So every chance she got she flaunted everything she had.
The Bartender
Meanwhile, my life seemed great. My new job was amazing and the money was phenomenal. I had about $100,000 from my wife’s life insurance but I didn’t really need it. With my housing taken care of and my six-figure salary, I was able to save a lot and still party.
And there was still Angelica. Turns out at just twenty-five, she already had an ownership stake in her family’s bar and restaurant business. She ran the bar where we met, and was perfect for where I was emotionally. She was always busy, working weekends, tracking down errant employees.
Meanwhile, every chance we had we fucked like cracked-out monkeys. She loved how raw and emotional I was. One day, she invited me over to her place, opened up her laptop to a porn site, and turned to me.
“Pick any video you want and we’ll recreate it.”
I picked an old ideepthroat.com video from the early 2000s. Angelica smiled and said she loved Heather Brooke, and proceeded to deep throat my massive tool for thirty straight minutes. Meanwhile, she impaled her tight little ass on a twelve-inch black dildo. Every time an orgasm ripped through her body, I grabbed her head and slammed my cock down her throat so her whole body shook. When I felt like she might pass out, I pulled my cock out and watched her inhale sharply only to mumble gibberish until she finally managed to beg me to do it again.
When I finally came, she made me cum into an ice tray. Later that night, she sent me a video of her shoving my frozen cum icicle into her ass, then fucking herself with a massive dildo. The text said, “I wanted to feel your cum as deep as it could go inside me.”
These sorts of adventures continued for about six weeks. Once again, we were at her spacious apartment in the Gaslamp District and couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We had a game we’d play (that she came up with) where she would text a random number a topless picture with the caption, “Tell me what you want to see next.”
Some people got pissed, but a surprisingly high number of them wrote back crazy ideas. One person asked if she could send a video with her getting peed on. She looked at me and smiled. Before her, I hadn’t ever even thought about pissing on a girl. It seemed too degrading and wrong. But Angelica loved feeling, as she put it, “respectfully humiliated.” So I got wasted on Pacifico beer and watched as she fucked her ass with her favorite black dildo. Then, we went to the alley behind her apartment building, I lifted her skirt and pissed into her gaping asshole.
We sent the video back to the number and the other person sent Angelica $300 on Zelle. We never heard from them again.
The Conversation
One night, we split a nice pre-rolled joint from the dispensary down the street from her apartment. We were in that post-coitus bliss, sitting on her nineteenth story balcony overlooking San Diego Bay, weed and beers in hand. Finally, I spoke up.
“My pregnant wife was killed in a drunk-driving accident a few months before I moved out here.”
Angelica remained expressionless, but turned her eyes from the bay to my face.
“I haven’t really thought about it much. I’ve tried to block everything out as best I can. But all the partying and sex and working will never heal me. I’m really, really fucked up inside.”
Angelica didn’t say a word. She sat there, looking at me. When I finally had enough courage to meet her gaze, I saw she had two single wet streaks going down each cheek. Then I lost it. I started silently sobbing, covering my face with my hands and letting out months of suppressed emotion.
Suddenly, I felt the warmth I hadn’t felt since Victoria. Angelica wrapped herself around my neck, her butt in my lap, and her legs draped over mine. She ran her fingers through my hair and cried softly with me. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t condescending, Angelica legitimately felt hurt with me.
I finally recovered enough to look at her and managed a laugh. “Damn weed is too strong. Making me say some real shit.”
Angelica smiled and said, “Strong weed and a strong woman. Lethal combo.”
She playfully mock-punched my jaw then walked inside. As she walked away from me, she made sure I saw her slowly shed her silk kimono and walk into the room.
I was hooked. I followed her inside and as I turned to enter her room, she grabbed me and kissed me. Deeply. We fell onto her bed and we didn’t fuck. We made love. I felt her curves and angles, I smelled her womanly scent, leftover from the perfume and flowery soap she had used for years. When I entered her, she let out a soft, guttural moan.
Firm, slow, and purposeful, I slid my cock in and out of her tight, gripping pussy until I felt a massive, cathartic orgasm building. Right as I was about to pull out, Angelica pulled my ear to her mouth and whispered, “Cum inside me, Daddy. Always cum inside me. This pussy is only yours. Forever.”
I was tearing up as I cried out in angst-filled pleasure. I came so deep inside Angelica’s womb that I felt her pussy lips gripping my pubic hair. Then I collapsed, still inside her, until we both fell asleep.
Annalisa
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