Werewolf Journals 01 - Wild in the City

by Camille Anthony

  “Old Buford might be a boa, but it’s your sweet pussy that will be doing the constricting.” I teased her, preening like the greenest pup, widening my legs so she could further admire my equipment. I flexed my hips and rubbed my erection against her hovering finger, letting her get a feel of Buford’s hot, hard readiness. My balls drew up at the touch of just that one finger. I shuddered, fighting the change, anticipation and lust riding me hard.

  What the fuck was wrong with me? I was no wet-behind-the-ears pup and I knew better than to get too entangled with this streetwalker. She was dessert, a late night snack and nothing else.

  Despite reminding myself how things should be, I felt inordinately pleased when she peeled herself away from her post and tucked her hand under my outstretched arm. Proudly, I escorted her up six blocks and across the busy street separating us from the restaurant.

  Her fingers slid under my sleeve and wrapped around my wrist. Her hand felt soft on the hot skin of my flesh, her womanly aroma drove spikes of lust into my balls. My beast awoke fully and strained at the leash, fighting my attempts at control, not content to wait until later. My traitorous insides struggled to get outside, greedy to savor the luscious scents flooding my olfactory senses. With increasing difficulty, I wrestled the beast back and down, determined to retain the ascendancy over my base inclinations.

  We arrived at the restaurant to find a long line outside the door. Taking advantage of the wait, I placed her in front of me, wrapped my long arms around her so they met under her breasts and snuggled her close.

  She filled my arms completely, feeling so good, so right cradled in my embrace, that I didn’t even try to resist her allure. Tightening my arms about her, I pressed my cock against her dimpled rump, gently grinding against her cushiony ass.

  To my delight, she squeezed back, causing Buford to leap with a little dance of joy. A spurt of pre-cum oozed out of my eager shaft, dampening the front of my jeans, while inside, my beast roared with ravening need, pushing against my weakening resolve.

  Hunger flooded every part of me and I knew food would not distract the beast for long.

  * * * * *

  “I’ll pay you for your time,” I promised, eating her with my eyes. We sat in a semi-private booth near the back of the restaurant. She occupied the wide cushion in lonely splendor while I sat across from her on a spindle-backed chair, having chosen that seat so I could better observe her.

  I relished her culinary enjoyment of our appetizer of crisp-crusted Italian bread with a side of seasoned olive oil. While waiting for our main dish we indulged in small talk, covering everything from local politics to world terrorism. Let me correct that. She waited on the main dish. I planned to take a nibble out of my dessert, first.

  “Damn straight, you will!”

  “Huh?” I’d been lost in lustful anticipation, my mind occupied with visions of her laid out on my bed, in my arms, under my cock. The harsh note in her voice had me jerking my wandering thoughts under control and focusing them on the conversation at hand.

  “Much as I might want to, I can’t afford to do freebies.” She paused to bite off a chunk of garlic bread and chased it with a large gulp of Sprite. Her eyes closed and she leaned her head back, a small smile playing about her full lips as she chewed the softened bread. She made eating a sensuous adventure. I loved watching her taste her food, loved seeing her savor the different textures and tastes of each individual item. Her unembarrassed hedonism was refreshing.

  I shook my head. “I meant I would pay you for this time, for gracing me with your presence during dinner.”

  A dark brown lock of bouncy hair fell over her forehead. Giving in to temptation, I leaned over and fingered it before brushing it off her face. It curled about my hand, soft, springy and full of life, without a touch of grease in evidence.

  “Hey! Don’t mess with my ‘do’!” She playfully swatted my hand away, and then patted her curls back into place.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. Ever since I saw Eddie Murphy’s movie, Coming To America, I’ve wondered what Jeri curls felt like.”

  “You still don’t know, since technically, my do is goddess wave and not Jeri curls. That’s okay, though. I don’t expect a white man to know the difference unless he worked in a beauty salon.”

  “Goddess wave, huh? That fits you to a T. I notice your hair isn’t as greasy as the folks’ hair in the movie.”

  She laughed, throwing back her head full of corkscrew curls. “I know just the scene you’re talking about. The one where the guy’s father, mother and grandmother sat on the couch, and when they got up, they left three sets of greasy stains on the back cushions.”

  “Yes, that’s the one. They were the owners of this hair spray company who obviously used their own product entirely too much. That scene and others were hilarious. I laughed ‘til I cried. I’m glad you didn’t take offense. I know our cultures’ humor doesn’t always run along parallel lines.”

  “Why should I take offense? That movie was funny as hell. Besides, most of us don’t use that gunk in our hair anymore. I use a non-greasy conditioner that helps my perm stay fresh longer.” She twirled her fingers in the bouncy mass. “I will have to have it done again soon, since this one is almost gone.”

  I sniffed at her hair. She must have had it done ages ago, as it didn’t smell even faintly of chemicals. “Your hair is beautiful. Why perm it at all?”

  “I can’t do a thing with it if I don’t. I am definitely into wash-and-wear-hair.” She finished chewing and looked at me over another hunk of bread. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “Go ahead.” Beneath the table, our knees brushed and I hid a smile at her low gasp. A human wouldn’t have noticed the increase in her pulse rate or sniffed the heady smell of arousal wafting off her luscious skin.

  “I’m getting the impression I’m the first black woman you’ve been with. If so, I’d like to know why. Why, now? Why, me?”

  I leaned back against my chair and met her curious eyes. I had asked myself that same question numerous times this evening, finally concluding that this--her and me--just felt right.

  “Yes, you are the first black I’ve been with, but not from lack of trying. The beauty of black women has always drawn me. Unfortunately, the reverse doesn’t seem to be true. If you think prejudice only flows one way, you are way out in left field. I’ve suffered more rebuffs than you could toss a stick at, only because I was”--I raised both hands and made quotation marks in the air, “--white. You ask why now and why you? I didn’t see disgust in your eyes when you looked at me, and I definitely liked what I saw.” I let my gaze rove over her full, lush form, let her see the growing attraction in my admiring gaze. “Your color, your race is not a turn-off to me. So why shouldn’t I want to spend time with you, get to know you? Fuck you?”

  Her eyebrows twitched together in a quick, considering frown. “You make it sound like you plan on seeing me after tonight. Socially.”

  She’d caught that easily enough, faster than I had, actually.

  “Again, if we both want the same thing, why not?” Hearing the words leave my mouth had my own eyebrows rising. What the fuck was I thinking?

  She cocked her head, observing my face closely. “This is not a date. This is a prelude to a fuck. There will be no ‘we’ beyond this evening. Sex--uncomplicated and simple--is all you want from me, and I don’t like you wrapping it up in romantic drivel.”

  I smiled and sat up straighter in my chair. “You think I’m romantic?”

  She heaved an exaggerated sigh and moved her gaze from me, ignoring my question to ask another of her own.

  “Why pay me for having dinner with you?”

  I shrugged. “You are a working woman and I am taking up your time.”

  “Yes, but you are buying my dinner. That is payment of a sort.”

  “And I’m enjoying watching you eat it, which is repayment of a sort. Believe me when I say we men don’t get enough of seeing a woman take pleasure in
her food. I consider it money well spent.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” She chewed a little slower, swallowed while she continued to stare at me. I watched a half smile widen her beautiful lips, light up her face from the inside.

  “Hey, you know, there aren’t many guys who take time to get to know a girl before just getting down to business. I think that’s very nice of you. In fact, I suspect you’re a nice guy.”

  “I try to be. Actually, I am, as much as possible, scrupulously honest. That is why I want you to know exactly what my intentions are. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us. You already know I intend to fuck you later tonight, right?” I asked her quietly, leaning across the table to take her hand.

  She nodded. “That’s pretty obvious. It’s what we’re here to discuss. Besides, it would be hard to play solitary pocket pool with that two-pocket monster.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, “private pocket pool is not very entertaining.”

  She grinned and I returned her smile with one of my own, momentary amusement soothing the beast within. “I have…special needs, certain requirements that demand more than your typical fuck,” I warned her.

  “Oh, I see.” Her face fell. “I should have known you were too good to be true.” She sighed. “I just thought…”

  “What?”

  “Never mind,” she said, that look of disappointment not abating. A cold, calculating look chilled the liveliness of her face.

  “I do mind! You were a warm, friendly woman and all of a sudden, you changed into a cold, businesslike robot. Tell me what I said to upset you.”

  “For a moment, I forgot you were a john, but reality just came crashing down with a vengeance when you mentioned special needs and certain requirements.”

  She sat up straight, placed her hands flat on the table and glared into my eyes. “Just because I’m black and for sale doesn’t mean I’ll put up with anything and everything. I won’t participate in extreme kink and my standard fee does not include my chocolate whiz-way. In fact, it is not even on the menu because nobody takes my ass. While we’re at it,” she continued in a stiff voice, eyes narrowing, “I won’t stand still for any painful play like corporal punishment--no beatings, no weird devices and no BDSM. Last but not least, blow-jobs are extra.”

  “No blow-job from you, tonight.” Just the thought that I might accidentally lose control and knot in her throat, be unable to pull out and possibly choke her to death made my blood run cold. I shivered, the notion chilling my soul. “It might be too dangerous.”

  That jolted her into repeating, “I am not into BDSM.”

  “I got you. No BDSM, no beatings, devices, blow-jobs or chocolate ass-reaming…tonight,” I reassured her solemnly, aware she didn’t catch the emphasis I put on the last word.

  “I can’t deny that full, bouncy ass of yours looks like my favorite playground; however, that can wait for another time. I’m willing to concede quite a lot to be with you.” I gripped her hand tightly, stared into her golden eyes. “You don’t have any idea how beautiful I find you, how much you excite me.”

  “No, I don’t. So why don’t you tell me.” A teasing smile tugging at her bodacious lips.

  Damn, those lips were full and cushiony. If I’d been Helen of Troy’s husband and her lips had looked like these, the Trojan War never would have happened. My cock would have been buried balls deep in her mouth every day, all day. She’d have had no time to find Paris and trouble.

  “First of all, I have enjoyed the liveliness of your mind. It’s been a long time since I’ve held an hour’s conversation with a woman and not been bored senseless.”

  “Well, thank you…I think!” Her acerbic tone warned me I’d said something wrong, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what.

  “What? What did I say?”

  A rueful smile tilted her full lips. She didn’t say it, but I could almost hear her thinking: Men!

  “Never mind, just go on with what you were saying.”

  “You are a painter’s dream. I could spend an eternity exploring the rich textures of your skin, the different tints and shades of cocoa that flow from the top of your curly hair to the lush curves of your full breasts. You are a work of art, all the way to the bottom of your dark, smooth legs.

  “But I am not a painter. I am more like a sculptor. I want to put my hands on you, mold and shape you into passion’s likeness, re-form you into an image of--” I stopped. “No, that’s not right, either. I need to be a chef--one who isn’t content to serve a dish without sampling it, making sure it is perfect. Before serving you up on my private bill of fare, I would have to taste you, suck your long, puffy nipples until they were raw. I’d nibble at your plump thighs and consume your chocolate pussy and then I’d lick every drop of hot, syrupy cream out of your gooey, juicy center.”

  “Ooohh, dayam, man!” She whimpered, fanning her hand in front of her face with fluttery, agitated motions. Her throat moved as she swallowed. “You sure make that sound good!”

  My thumb brushed over and over her soft hand. Her fingers curled into mine, warm and clinging, heating my blood. “You like the sound of that?”

  She nodded vigorously. “Oh, hell, yeah!”

  “Good, because there’s more,” I whispered, enticing her with my words, deliberately leaning into her personal space. My cock grew stiffer as her scent intensified, betraying her escalating arousal.

  “I don’t know if I can handle any more!” She gulped, yanking her hand from mine to sink back on her bench. Wetting her lips with a nervous swipe of her tongue, she hastily took a swallow of her drink. A nervous little laugh escaped her. “You are getting me so hot and bothered.”

  “And wet, too, I bet. Still, you’re not wet enough, not yet hot enough, baby.” Recapturing her hand, I curled my fingers about her wrist and pressed a kiss in her palm, running my thumb across the soft skin of her knuckles.

  Her hand trembled in my grasp.

  “Before I fuck you, I’ll do everything I just mentioned and more. I will bind you with silk and cotton ties, careful not to bruise your beautiful skin.”

  My lips moved against the soft skin of her forearm as my fingers tightened, mimicking the ropes I would use to bind her. “I’ll bind you stretched out, on your belly, open and vulnerable to my every touch, bound so you cannot refuse the ecstasy I will stroke into your flesh. I will fuck you so hard, you’ll feel me in your throat, fuck you until I bring you to the ultimate in pleasure. Before I finish, you will scream for me as you convulse in endless orgasms.”

  Her breathing hitched, becoming audible in the small space of our secluded cubicle. Her eyes meshed with mine, studying my face intently. Her tongue swiped across her thick lips, leaving them glossy and wet.

  She nodded at me, a shaky smile quivering on her fine mouth. “Oh, God, yes, I want that. I want you to do all that and more to me!” A nervous laugh caused her big breasts to jiggle. “Hell, if you can deliver even half of what you’ve just described, I might end up paying you!”

  I Contemplate Dessert

  The little Italian place was bustling with their usual early evening crowd. Being among the last customers admitted, the restaurant’s standard policy of first-come-first-served worked against us. Our order lingered way down at the bottom of the chef’s list and by the time our server delivered apologies and a second helping of complimentary appetizers, we had solved California’s energy problems and started in on World Peace.

  All through the lengthy wait and our energetic discussions, I put a lot of effort into keeping her arousal high. At one point, I slipped my sandal off and played with her ankles. My naked toes slid up her stockinged leg, around to the back of her knee, flirting and enticing. I slipped the other sandal off and placed both feet between her legs, nudging them further and further apart.

  Finally sliding one foot up the slope of her inner thigh, I heard her breath catch. She’d figured out my true target. I hadn’t known what to expect but was glad to find her vagina was bare
. My big toe, slipping and sliding through her juices, came to rest between her swollen lips and I rooted for her opening, my toes wiggling over her fat little clit.

  She let out a huffing gasp and I smiled a little, quirking my eyebrow at the way her voice abruptly cut off in the midst of a sentence. Taking deep, shaky breaths, eyes cast down at the table, she eased her thighs further apart, silently inviting me to get my toe wedged in the doorway of her dripping cunt.

  I felt her pussy muscles clamping around my toe and I rotated my foot, flexing the toe inside her. I curled my other toes into the crease leading to her ass, wriggling those, too, with optimum results.

  When I pushed my toe all the way in, she almost ignited right there in her seat.

  “Do you like that?”

  My words emerged as a harsh whisper, my own breath raspy as I watched her fight not to convulse. I kept my toe pumping slowly in and out of her clasping pussy, my other foot toeing her clit. My chest expanded, lungs burning as I breathed in the heavy musk of her lust. I savored the primal scent that betrayed her climbing passion.

  She wet her lips, humming as she tried to answer, struggling to control the urge to scream. The helpless look in her eyes told me she didn’t have enough control to keep back her moans and hold a conversation at the same time. She settled for giving me a wobbly affirmative nod.

  I continued the secret, rhythmic fucking, grinning wickedly as a thought came to me. “Gives toe-jam a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” I chuckled quietly as my hard thrusts pinned her against the back of the booth.

  Her head snapped back, eyes squeezed shut as I forced an intense completion upon her. Hips jerking forward, she clasped the table, keening low and harshly as an orgasm slammed through her. She slumped down in the booth, bringing her lower body closer to my pistoning leg, causing my knee to hit the underside of the table with an audible whack. It hurt like hell, but I had cause to be thankful for it. The pain helped me to focus, to rein in my beast.

  I sat up and tried to ease out of her streaming pussy. She fought me, frantically pumping her hips down onto my gyrating foot. Trapping my toe inside her steaming channel, she rode her climax out and started on another.