Erin's train of thought, please shut up and pay attention to the blowjob.
Fair enough, Erin thought, looking down. Stacy was energetically sucking on her fat penis. Rolling that little pink tongue of her around the head, sliding it down the shaft, and repeating the whole process all over again. Erin almost passed out when three fingers were roughly pushed inside her.
"Heh, heh, heh," Stacy chuckled.
"Mmmmmm!" Erin vocalized.
Stacy withdrew the fingers and wrapped both hands around Erin's dick.
"Err?" said Stacy, using a nickname.
"Mmm?"
"Thank you."
"Mmm."
"No, seriously, thank you. I'm going to really thank you now, but I wanted to say it out loud too."
"Mmm, mmm."
Erin was beyond speech.
Stacy started jacking her off. Long strokes, hard strokes, teasing strokes. The best handjob she could muster. She jacked, licked, and kissed Erin's dick for maybe five minutes before her body begin to jerk. It started as a twitch in the knees. Stacy felt one knock against her side. Next her arms, then her neck and head. Finally the torso joined in and Stacy watched Erin's stomach muscles contract.
"Stace," she managed a hoarse whisper, her eyes wide.
Stacy moved her face away from the appendage as it jerked. It flailed against her hands, it grew half a size bigger and then shrank. Erin's eyes rolled up into the back of her head. It jerked again, spurting a thick stream of semen into the air. It arced, splatting against the wall with a distinctive SPLAT.
Erin's body relaxed. Then it convulsed, and another SPLAT was preceded by an impressive ejaculation. It continued this way for near sixty seconds. Stacy holding on for dear life as Erin's body contracted and convulsed, spilling a pint of distasteful life force against the wall. Finally Erin relaxed, she was done. Stacy licked and sucked on the tender cockflesh, making Erin shudder in post-orgasmic bliss. It shrank slowly, Stacy massaging it the entire time, until Erin's pussy sucked it back up with another SHLUCK.
After a few minutes of exhausted panting, Stacy got up and turned off most of the shower heads, leaving one on for her and Erin.
She guided Erin to her feet slowly, and they huddled under a stream of water, getting rid of any unsavory juices that might have stuck to them. They staggered out into the locker room afterward, Stacy helping Erin into her clothes, and disposing of Coach Hall's wallet, pants, shirt, and cell phone.
"Stacy," said Erin sleepily.
"Yes Erin?"
Erin splayed a hand so Stace could see her fingertips.
"I'm all pruny from the shower, can you drive me home?"
The End.
Always Hungry For More
I'm a straight-up type of guy, so I'll let you know straight-up that I'm from Crenshaw and that probably didn't do me many favors growing up. Some say I have an icy personality, but I like to think that my character is simply measured. I admit my temperament isn't so good at times. I try my best to exercise some ethics. It's hard, ya know, when you're from the ghetto. You learn to live by different moral standards and different societal rules altogether. Punishment goes to a whole other level in the hood. Anyway, I'm not sure why I'm opening with all this shit. Maybe I don't want you to judge me for what I'm about to share with you. But, then again, maybe I don't give one flying fuck what you think. All I'm saying is that I ain't no fucking saint, but I ain't a monster either. I just want what I fucking want and that's that.
Jonah has been my nigga since we were kids. His name ain't really Jonah (it's Jonathan or some shit, fuck if I know). We all know him as Jonah. He's this light-skinned pretty ass nigga, half white and half black, that all the chicks be diggin' since we were like 12. His skin makes him look more white than black and his nose is a little crooked. In grade school, we somehow decided that he looks Jewish, not that any of us had ever seen a real Jewish person in our neighborhood. Everyone knows that Jewish people are freakishly smart. And when you're smart and you're white...well, you don't live in Crenshaw. You live in NYC or Beverly Hills or someplace nice and rich. Jonah may look white, but he ain't smart. So he's still in Crenshaw with the rest of the crew. The name "Jonah" seemed really Jewish to us, so that's how Jonah became Jonah.
Why is this nigga important? Truthfully, he's not. He just happened to date this fine ass girl that I have been hawkin' ever since they met. Supposedly, they met at some dorm room party. How Jonah got invited to a campus party, I'm not entirely sure. Jonah barely passed high school and never went to college, unlike me. But before you go thinking I'm smart or some shit, just stop. I'm humble enough to admit that I went to USC on a sports scholarship. My grades aren't shit, but they're nothing to write home about. The party at which Jonah met his fine ass girlfriend was not a party I had attended. If I had, maybe I would have met that fine ass girl and made her my girlfriend first. And maybe things would have turned out differently.
The fine ass girl has a name and it's Mila. I'll never forget her name because I probably mumbled it into her neck about 100 times while I was on top of her. She's the kind of girl that is so damn hot that she makes a man feel inferior and like he has nothin' good to say, even when he does. Why Mila wasted even a single second on Jonah, I'll never know the answer. Mila is beautiful and, from what the ladies say, Jonah is attractive too. So maybe they were both just trying to win the affections of the hottest person in the room. I don't fucking know. All I know is that Jonah tried to fuck her before she was ready, Mila got mad, Jonah got mad, Jonah went off and cheated on her with a slut from around the way, and they broke up.
Fast-forward a year and a half. That should take you up to last week, when I spotted Mila on the dance floor at Tao. Yes, I mean Tao nightclub in Las Vegas. Where else? Anyway, Mila was there with a couple friends and I was there with my crew, including Jonah. We had a VIP section with bottle service and the works. I saw Mila first and pointed her out to Jonah. Why am I such a dumb fuck sometimes? Jonah approached her and, from afar, it looked like Mila responded friendly enough because she and her girls came to our reserved lounge area. They're letting bygones be bygones, I guess.
Like usual, Jonah is shit-faced drunk and pretty much off in his own universe. He's not paying much attention to Mila, even though she's clearly the finest girl in the club. Left and right, guys are staring up and down her beautiful body. She's on the petite side, maybe 5'3" without heels, but what pretty girl goes to a club not wearing heels? Mila's heels were steep and slutty, making her appear much taller and even sexier. She wore a tight, short dress that showed off her tan shapely legs and tight hot body. I can't even remember what color that dress was -- I was too busy scoping out the shape of her breasts and butt underneath the clingy fabric. Every time I glance at her, I feel the hunger nag at me. The hunger to strip her and spread her open, against her will if necessary.
Anyway, the night unfolds the way any night would unfold at a Vegas club. Everyone gets drunker, the girls get looser, the dudes get bolder, and the dancing gets sexier. It's past 2am when I finally approach Mila on the dance floor and start grinding on her from behind. She's surprised at first, but then she slaps me with her gorgeous smile and starts grinding me back. I'm trying to control my cock and not let her feel how hard I am, because I don't want her to know that I'm about to nut myself. Her smell is intoxicating. I can't tell if it's a perfume or her shampoo... it's citrus mixed with something flowery. I have no goddam clue -- I can't place it but I feel like I could breathe it in all night. Her ass is shapely and her skin is so soft. I let my hands glide up and down her petite arms. What I really want to do is bend her over and give her a good dicking right there on the dance floor. Instead, I sway with her to the beat and periodically exchange smiles with her. After a few songs, I force myself to leave her alone, just to show I'm no puppy dog nigga that's about to follow her around all night.
It's pushing 4am when I finally make it back to my hotel room. No, I wasn't sharing it with my crew. I'm a grown man and I don't need
roommates, not even when it comes to overpriced Vegas suites. Were my fellas posted up in rooms on the same floor? Hell yeah. In Vegas, you never know when you need back-up. Just ask 2Pac.
I take a quick shower and towel off. My reflection shows signs of sleeplessness. My eyes are a little bloodshot and my skin is dry from alcohol dehydration. Still, I'm a good lookin' nigga. I played basketball throughout high school and college, so I'm tall (just over 6'4") and muscular. The girls always complimented me on my smile and my lips. They're sexy, no doubt. My ex-girl said she loved my voice. She said it was deep and smooth. That's exactly how she liked getting fucked. And I always deliver. I slang a monster cock and I know how to make a woman cum. So why do I feel like such a fucking loser around Mila?
Before I can answer my own question, there's a quiet knock on my door. The sound was almost inaudible, so I'm not even sure if I heard anything at all. I throw on a pair of jeans and take a quick look out the peephole. Shit. It's Mila. What the fucking hell is going on? How did she find my hotel suite? Did I even put on any deodorant? Fuck. But I open the door anyway.
"What's up?" I ask nonchalantly, almost irritably. I make sure to flex my stomach muscles without looking like I'm flexing. She peeped them at least once. Good.
"David, it's Jonah. He's passed out by the pool." Why is her voice so fucking seductive? "Marcus asked me to get you." Mila leaned slightly against the doorframe, one small hand perched on its corner. She gave the floor an uncertain glance, then peered back up at me with those dark green eyes.
Before responding, I let my eyes fall down the length of Mila's body. God, why does she have to be so goddam perfect? Everything from her long coffee brown hair to her perky tits to her cute little waist... it all just mesmerized me in a way I wasn't really used to. "Give me a minute," I sighed. "I'll meet you down there."
After I closed the door, I leaned against it and massaged my cock through my boxers. I gotta fuck this girl, I thought. I gotta fuck her so I can get her off my goddam mind. She is seriously driving me crazy. It must be those damn pheromones or whatever those attraction chemicals are called.
The next half hour is spent helping Marcus carry Jonah's dumbass back to his room. Afterwards, I see Mila gathering her purse and jacket up. Two of her friends are still drinking and carrying on with Marcus and other crew guys. I catch up with Mila by the door.
"So you're leaving already?" I try to keep the desperation out of my voice. "What floor are you on?" I made sure to wear only a ribbed tank with my jeans. I guess I was trying to show off my physique.
"Yeah," Mila replied with a cute smile playing across her lips. "But I'm not in this hotel. I'm down the street at the Belagio." Mila tucked some soft hair behind her ear and moistened her lips. "The girls and I are sharing a double suite."
"Stay with me." I blurted it out and was immediately embarrassed. Thank god I'm black and she couldn't see me blush. "I mean, you can't walk there alone. It's late, just stay here with us." I didn't want her to stay with the group and by "us" I really meant "me." So basically I was making one fuck-up after another.
Her cute smile just kept playing across her pink lips. God, I want to shove my cock into that wet mouth. I want to fill her throat with my nut juice. She finally says, "I guess I could stay awhile..." Her voice trails off and she looks over at her girls who are oblivious to anything outside their little drunken circle.
"We're cool, right?" I shoot her a smile. She nods, so I keep at it. "Come chill in my room. I'll walk you back to your hotel later."
Mila is no dummy. She knows I'm chasing her. And apparently she was okay letting herself get caught, because she followed me back to my room. Once inside, I turn on some relaxing music and I immediately offer her a drink. She declines alcohol but requests a glass of water. I think to myself that this is already not looking good. I bring the water to the edge of the bed, where she is perched. I deliberately sit across from her in the armchair, just to let her chase me a little bit too.
"Why you like that nigga?" I like to get right to the point.
"Who? Jonah?" Mila's quiet laugh chimes across my senses and my skin tingles a little bit. "I'm not into Jonah. He's cute, but his personality... not my type." Mila politely sips her water and tosses some of her long hair behind her shoulder.
Hearing her call Jonah "cute" stings a little bit. I'm not sure why. Jealousy? "You're being generous," I comment. "That nigga don't have a personality and you know it." I crack a smile.
Mila's eyes light up at my quip and she laughs her pretty laugh. Her smile is so beautiful. Fuck, this girl has got me so confused. I desperately want to fuck her brains out, but she makes me want to date her as well.
Our conversation goes on like this for a while. I learn that she finished her degree at UCLA. She majored in English and wants to be a journalist someday. She has two brothers and her parents are still happily married. She grew up in a moderately nice suburb just outside of Hollywood. Compared to a nigga from Crenshaw, she's high society. What does high society pussy feel like? I'm not sure, but I feel insatiable for it.
I can tell she's getting tired. It's past 5am. I offer to take the couch and she can have the bed. She weakly objects repeating a couple times that she "feels bad" about taking my bed from me. I point out that it's a king-size bed; more than enough room for both of us. She smiles. Then she asks for one of my t-shirts to sleep in.
She disappears into the bathroom with one of my clean white cotton shirts. I briefly hear the shower go on. When she re-emerges, I see that she's removed her makeup but her hair is still dry. How do girls manage to shower like that? She's even prettier without makeup and she looks a little bit younger than her 23 years. I watch her intently as she pads over to the bed and climbs in. My t-shirt falls almost down to her knees. Her golden skin looks supple and moisturized. I catch a quick glimpse of her chest through the armholes. I gotta suck those tits, I think to myself. My dick starts swelling under the sheets. I feel myself growing even more ravenous than before.
To my surprise, she lays down under the covers and situates herself facing me, as if ready to talk more. I turn off the light and do the same.
"Mila," I say softly. "I like you."
I can faintly see her smile through the darkness. "I like you too, David."
I lean over and kiss her soft lips. I don't linger long and pull back half the distance to see what her response is. For a moment, she doesn't react. Then I faintly hear a single word from her. "Again."
I kiss her again. This time, she kisses back. I pull her toward me on the bed. She's so easy to move because she's so small compared to me. I'm breathing in her wonderful scent and sliding my tongue against hers. This girl is absolutely intoxicating. I feel a little disoriented. The only thing guiding me is the hunger for her body. All I can think about is how I can conquer the power that her petite little body currently has over me.
My hands have been on the outside of the shirt as I slide them up and down her figure. I massage her tits and ass through the shirt. She doesn't seem to mind until I slide my hand behind the shirt and actually touch her skin. Mila pulls back abruptly. But I'm not ready to let go and keep caressing her chest and backside. I'm not satisfied and I'm greedy for more.
"Don't David," Mila whispers in protest. "I just want to kiss."
I cover her mouth with my mouth. She pulls her head away. I easily move on top of her, pinning her down with my weight. I start kissing her neck and, not knowing what else to say, I start to murmur her name quietly in the hopes that it will soothe her. "Mila...Mila, it's alright...Mila, be cool, baby...Mila." My mutterings are sandwiched between gentle kisses and licks that I'm delivering to her neck and shoulders. Her body is tensing and she starts using her arms to push my hands away.
"I want to slow down, David." Mila tries to pull away from me, but the hunger won't set her free.
I don't respond but instead keep moving forward with my plans to devour her. I easily hold her down on the bed, even though she's squirming. I can sense
that she's a little afraid but unsure about how she should react. Scream? Cry? Beg? Her vulnerability just increases my appetite. My cock is rock hard and precum soaks the front of my boxers. I reach down between her thighs to see if she's wet. She is. Her panties are warm and damp. Mila clamps her legs together and pleads with me to stop.
I can't tell you I've never forced a girl to submit to me. But it's never been like this. In the past, I've brought little hoodrats back to my apartment and they were already willing to do a lot. Sometimes, I would take some liberties with them or push them to do something extra. Mila was no slut and she wasn't willing to do much to begin with. I start to feel a little guilty, but my sex drive is absolutely wild and untamed in her presence. Her innocence makes her even more desirable. It's like I want to turn her into a slut. I want to see how dirty I can make her be. And I want to see her enjoy it.
"Mila...Mila, calm down, girl...Mila, you're good, you're okay...Mila, come on baby." I'm breathing her name into her ear as I tug down her panties. "I just want to taste you, I promise."
Mila continues to turn her face away from me. She has her eyes pressed shut as if she doesn't want to witness herself being molested and undressed. My t-shirt that she's wearing is hiked up over one of her breasts. I wish it weren't so dark in here, I think to myself. So I quickly reach over and turn the knob on the bedside lamp. A dim warm glow fills the room. Mila's perfect body comes to light. Her tummy is flat and taut. I push the shirt over her other breast to reveal a sexy set of tits that are perky and round and bouncy. I gaze down her form and find a completely hairless pussy.
"Bad girl, Mila." I chuckle softly in her ear. "You shaved your pussy. You expected a nigga to hit that tonight, didn't you." I suck her earlobe and lick her neck.
Mila shakes her head and gives me a hard push, which basically does nothing to my position on top of her. "I didn't," she insists. "That's how I like it."
Arousing Family Page 137