by Pynk
He stood with his legs apart, hands on his hips, working his happy dick into her mouth. He looked down at her deep-throating skills, while every muscle of his ass cheeks was at peak contraction, adding to the power of his pumping. “Hell yeah, you suck a mean dick. Dammit. You swallow the whole damn thing. That’s how the shit should be done right there.” He moved her flat-ironed hair to the side so he could get a better view of the face he fucked. Her sounds of choking on his size made his nipples hard as steel.
She flashed big, innocent bedroom eyes up at him, nodding in total agreement. All he heard were continued sounds of gngna, gngna, gngna. Her throat vibrated against his cock. She looked downward again and brought her mouth to meet his heavy testicles. She sucked and sucked, then eased down for a skilled tea-bag move on both balls.
He moaned and then demanded, “Let me tittie-fuck you, baby. Give me those pretty-ass titties. Now.”
She placed a full kiss on his tip and stood. He lay on his back with his forever legs hanging off the bed. She straddled him in reverse, sixty-nine style, securing her chest to his hardness and her pussy to his face. From the six position, she spit just in between her breasts and slipped his penis up and back along her soaked skin.
From the nine position, he put his face in it, inserting his tongue into her creamed-up, dark pink slit and sucking her smooth pussy skin, blowing slightly and lapping her up with a long lick stroke. He did a tongue push against her skin and licked briskly from side to side.
She said like a porno star, “Oooh, you so nasty. Oooooh, that shit is so nasty.” She felt him devour her pussy triangle. His wet tongue parted her drenched lips. She jumped and looked back. “Boy, you so muthafuckin nasty.” She then focused on her precision tittie-fuck and asked, “You like that? That’s so pretty. My tits fit just perfect around that pretty dick.”
He directed her to the end of the bed, turning her around to face the headboard on her knees while he stood behind her. Her ass was propped up high for easy access.
Dwayne grabbed a Magnum XL from the headboard shelf, ripped the corner of the gold foil with his teeth and hurried to slip it on, and then entered her all the way back on the very first stroke. She gasped and began to yell, “Yeah, run that all day long. Damn. Get that. Shit. Get it.” She looked back seductively, saying words that would make a prostitute blush. “Uhm, uhm, uhm. Look at you. Big dick muthafucka.” She looked like she was mad at somebody, and worked him by bucking back hard and throwing much ass his way. He popped her fleshy cheeks with a “smack it up, flip it, rub it down” move. “Oh, hell yeah. Fuck that shit.” Her liquidity was a voluble audible, no challenge for the next slow-fuck song in the background, “In the Mood” by the Whispers. But Miki was in the fucking mood way before they even met.
He looked impressed and continued to dig in like his dick was a tablespoon and she was seafood gumbo.
She said in a half-kidding, shit-talking voice, “Uh-oh, cavity search. Yeah, I’ll take it all. Get that. Get it.” She yelled like he’d made a last-second touchdown.
He watched her ass work him. “Awww, shit.”
“Yeah, fuck that pussy. I’ma call you Parkay cause you on a roll, muthafucka. Slap my ass again. Slap the fuck outta that bad boy.”
And slap the fuck he did.
She gave him a ride as though he was Zorro and she was Tornado, wearing a golden saddle, but her words were bordering on hood. “Ohhh, holla at cha girl. You workin that shit over, look at you. Get that shit. All up in there. Oooh, yeah, you gonna give me that fucking milk shake in a minute, ain’t chu? I can tell. That shit is ready to blow. Look at you.”
He stopped and almost held his breath, trying to hold out. “Here, switch up again.” He grabbed his dick and pulled out fast. His words were rushed. “Get on your knees and suck this.” He ripped off his rubber and threw it wherever.
She moved fast to kneel onto the carpet and he slapped her soft face with his impatient dick. She grinned, looking extrapleased by his aggressiveness. Miki spit on his fresh-from-the-pussy shaft. She looked at her own creamy saliva as it soaked his skin. “I’m markin the beast with that shit.” She spit again just before she took him down her throat. The stream of excess saliva dripped onto the carpet. She kept her sights on his facial expressions, being that she saw his climbing the wall as an ego massage. Being in the driver’s seat was right where Miki liked to be.
“Damn, you’re messy,” he said, as though it was both a complaint and a compliment, looking up toward the ceiling. He placed his hands on each side of her freshly weaved hair. His jaw was tight. His eyes were tight. His ass was tight. He looked frantic, like he was desperately fighting to hold it. “Uuummmh yeah. Yeah. That’s some dick suckin fo yo ass.”
She licked his nuts like he’d licked her pussy, and downed him from tip to base and again growled, hob-knobbing fanatically, twisting her right hand in a circle from wrist to fingertips.
“Right there. Right there.” His breathing grew unstable.
She continued to bob and bob and bob and stroke and stroke and stroke and suck and suck and suck, like his cock was a chocolate Tootsie Pop.
He looked down and took a half step back. Erotic urgency took over his face. He grunted while speaking. “Wait. Here it is. I wanna cum on your face.” He choked the throat of his platinum dick. A heavy vein sprouted from the middle of his forehead and from the center of his shaft.
She released his dick from her mouth and met his peehole with her lips.
He cried her name, “Miki,” with a baritone shrill, secured his aim, and jetted intermittent spurts onto her long tongue runway as she stuck it out for his sperm landing. Some hit the side of her mouth and some hit her right cheek. She drained his dick and licked her lips and even gave a full swallow of his salty, warm semen, as though it would be rude not to.
She made more gargling sounds with his cum and smacked her lips, looking up at him with her huge brown eyes, giving him a nasty-girl face, yet she was the one to say to him, “You so fuckin nasty.” As she spoke, three small drops that had landed on her throat dripped right between her tits, making a pearl necklace. She laughed. “Damn, killa. All over my fuckin mouth and throat.” She looked down at the fluid facial and joked, “He painted a Picasso.” She played with his droplets with her fingertips. “You a fuckin Picasso.”
He laughed out loud. His eyes showed he was intoxicated from her skills.
“Let’s recycle that shit,” she said, as she scooped a drop with her finger and licked it off. Her porn-star performance was just her way of saying thank you.
His voice was shaky. “Damn. I could get used to this. We’re gonna have to have a part two. That was a damn blow-job sandwich there. This shit is crazy.” The post-orgasm hormones had him making dick promises. He looked at her with admiration for putting it on him right and took stumbling steps into his bathroom, grabbing a black washcloth and running warm water on it. He exited and then approached Miki, handed it to her, and then collapsed onto the bed, turning onto his back while his chest rose and fell.
She took the cloth. “Thanks.” Miki wiped her mouth and cheeks and neck, and then held on to it, laying her head upon his stomach. “True. But don’t forget. We’re supposed to be reforming.”
They were quiet.
His breathing was still hard. He gave a delayed response, like he’d been on a pussy trip. “Fuck reforming tonight.”
She grinned.
He grinned and looked down at her round ass. “You’re bad.”
“I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way.” She batted her long eyelashes.
“Yes you are.” His eyes stayed on her backside. “I say I eat that greasy pussy till you cum in my mouth. I mean after all, turnabout is fair play.” He took her cloth and laid it upon the nightstand.
She replied by immediately turning onto her back and spreading her legs open as he maneuvered his way to what lay between her wall-to-wall thighs.
She still tasted as sweet as she smelled and he noticed. He inhaled
even deeper and his head swam. The smell of pussy had him going. It was his drug.
Her thighs were now his earmuffs and he was all hers. The touch of his tongue upon her clit had her squirming in ecstasy. She let him examine her every nook and cranny, and closed her eyes to focus on his oral travels.
Ten minutes later, Miki’s legs tightened and she came in Dwayne’s mouth. He lapped it up, feeling her clit dance. He ended with a soft, subtle kiss against her opening and looked up at her with an inkling of wonder. And then he mounted her again.
And for the next hour, they fucked again and again, using two more man-sized condoms.
Once the last bit of their erotic screwing was unscrewed, they lay back side by side, coated with each other’s sweat, with looks of pure-dee satisfaction, even though they’d already fallen off the no-fucking wagon on the very same day of their first rehab meeting. And even though he had a bevy of beautiful and willing women at his disposal each and every night, women who came into the popular nightclub he owned, for some reason aside from her booty of life and heavenly pussy, Miki had his full attention.
For Miki, it was routine. It was just a fuck. The rest was only a fantasy. Dwayne was definitely Dr. Feelgood, but it was just another lustful need fulfilled. Just an everyday thing, the variety she craved. Her tank was again temporarily full.
Miki’s mind momentarily slipped away from the intense, high-powered lay she’d just experienced. She sat up in the bed and came to a naked stance, fingering the tousled strands of her long hair. She never was one to lounge in the booty-call afterglow and hang around unless there was a commitment. Though because of her impossible sexual desires, she really didn’t know the true meaning of the word commitment, anyway.
She began to gather her clothes so she could head home for a quick shower and change. Her six-year-old son, T.J., would be at his father’s house until the next morning, and right now all she could think about was how much pussy-fun she was going to have at her favorite place, the place that had employed her for three years awhile back. The tittie bar.
She got dressed and approached the bed where Dwayne lay upon his back. She leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. He then rose to a slow stance and took delayed steps, following her to the front door, eyeing every inch of her shapely frame from behind.
Miki’s platinum phone rang, and she took it from her green Coach satchel to eye the screen. It was her boyfriend, Tariq. It was his third call. She pressed Ignore.
She noticed Dwayne as he stood in the doorway, looking like the bomb-ass pussy of his life was about to head out to Afghanistan and never return. She turned her sights toward her car after he watched her step from the front door to the driveway of his cul-de-sac home. She slammed her hips on purpose from left to right.
She hopped in her black cherry Mitsubishi Montero and sped off.
Sexual sobriety would be a stranger to them both for at least another day. Lust, just as it was before their impulsive sexual encounter, was their closest friend.
They had the exact same libidos.
They were lushes. Sex drunks.
Their sex drives were in overdrive.
Perfect for the moment.
3
“How Does It Feel?”
Teela
Short and thick with a sister-girl rear end, Teela Raye rode in her cloud-white 300Z through the predictably slow-moving evening traffic of the 405 North, taking the short drive after stopping by her mom’s place in Westwood near Wilshire Boulevard. It had been an unheard-of three-hour visit. She was now headed to the townhome she shared with her man, Austin Henderson, in the beautiful Fox Hills area of Culver City, mainly inhabited by younger African American professionals.
Most of the handsome neighborhood consisted of large apartment communities, but a few of the buildings had been converted into condos. Teela bought her unit over six years ago and was saving up to buy a new home in Baldwin Hills. Austin moved in with her three months after they met, and they split the bills in half.
She rested her left elbow along the soft leather-lined door of her sports car, with the gentle nighttime breeze spiraling along the strands of her spiky hair. She struggled to eject the mental video of the conversation playback she’d just had with her mom. You need to leave Austin. You need to tell him to move out. He’ll be the death of you or the death of himself. Believe me. You can absolutely do better.
Teela thought to herself, She’s disliked him ever since he moved in with me. Said no real man would do that. And now that I admitted to her that I’m a sexaholic, in her opinion it’s all Austin’s fault. Funny.
She called Austin, using the speakerphone. “Hey Austin. I’m on my way. Once the meeting was over, I did end up spending more time at Mom’s than I thought.”
“Oh, okay, cool. So how’d it go? The meeting, I mean,” he inquired, with an excited depth to his voice just as she prepared to hang up.
She readjusted her elbow along the door and smoothed a few strands of short hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. I guess it’s too early to say. The lady who’s the group sponsor seems cool. Everyone in there has issues just as deep as the next one.”
His voice was deep. “Well, hell, you know how I feel. What you seem to call issues really aren’t issues at all. You must be the most normal one in there.”
Her voice was soft. “I don’t think so. If you ask me, my shit is right up there with the rest of em. Mainly it was men, but there were four of us women, the newbies. This cool girl named Brandi and a couple of other girls. I think their names are Valencia and Miki, all confessing the worst. Basically admitting what put them over the edge.”
“Oh yeah? What kinda shit did they have?” His inquiring mind wanted to know.
She clicked her tongue. “I can’t tell you. Everywhere you look, the signs say nothing goes beyond those walls. And we all vowed that what happens at Sexaholics, stays at Sexaholics.”
“Oh yeah, right. Like most of those folks aren’t at home telling everything they heard by now.”
“Well, I sure won’t.” She exited at Centinela and proceeded to Bristol Parkway.
“I’ll bet I can get it out of you.”
She turned on Green Valley Circle. “Your ass needs to be sitting in there right along with me, confessing. With your kinky self.”
“I beg to differ. No need to detox on my end. You and me, we do what we do, and that’s cool. You know how I feel about that. I say you’re wasting your time. Being a voyeur is not that serious.”
Teela made a left along Buckingham Parkway, past the southwest portion of the elevated and green, ten-acre Fox Hills Park. A few late p.m. joggers walked the workout trail, and one lone woman did a fast walk with a large, protective-looking golden retriever. As Teela spoke, she was reminded of the time she and Austin had sex in the park, right on top of a picnic bench. “Maybe not to you, but it’s serious to me. This turn-on-by-watching crap, these fantasies, are ruining my life.”
“I say whatever floats your damn boat.”
“I’m here to tell you that one day my boat is gonna sink with my big ass in it and yours, too. This shit is an addiction. And like the group sponsor said, I have to stop lusting and become sober. Period.”
“Okay. You say so.” He gave a small laugh as Teela pressed the garage door opener. “Damn, I hear the garage. Are you home already?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Perfect. Listen. Come on upstairs. But on the way up, take your clothes off, every stitch, because as soon as you hit the door, I’ll be on my knees waiting to eat your pretty pussy from the outside in.”
“Oh really?”
“Really. And Teela?” His tone was teasing.
“Yes.” The feeling of anticipation was knocking at her chest. She took a deep breath.
His voice was suddenly even deeper. “At this very moment, my dick is deep inside of Payshun’s mouth. She’s young, has the velvet face of an angel and the flawless body of a stripper. And she’s on her back on the floor. I’m on my kne
es straddling her fine-ass face, fucking her wide mouth like I fuck your deep pussy. And you’re about to have the time of your life. Now get your hot ass on up here.”
Teela put the car in park and turned off the ignition. She sat. Speaking of wide-open mouths, hers was so wide her chin was hitting her chest. The image in her mind was an unwelcomed turn-on. She gave a loud exhale and shook her head. “Austin, there’s no way. I just told you I’m trying to…” Another moment of mental hesitation rolled, along with an even louder, deeper sigh. And then her words flowed clearly: “I’ll be right up.”
Teela’s suddenly seductive voice growled long and teasingly. She was naked as instructed. Their bedroom smelled of a seductive mix of Issey Miyake cologne for men and Perry Ellis perfume for women. Teela’s nipples were at full attention. Her vagina was totally fired up. All at the sight of her man’s dick being swallowed alive. Expertly.
Teela examined the mad head skills of her man’s young lover. “Oh yeah, suck that dick. Every damn inch of it. Suck my man’s dick until you choke on that shit. Damn, she’s all the way down to the balls.” Teela took a more up-close-and-personal look.
Payshun had moved her long, burgundy hair to the side and away from her face, and then focused on taking all of Austin’s anatomy as completely as she could possibly throat him. She looked up at Austin’s face with big, willing, “your wish is my command” eyes. She rotated her head from side to side while going up and down to accommodate his size. The meat of her generous lips shellacked his black dick-skin up and down, in and out, over and over.
Austin pumped her face with his magnificent hooked penis as he reached back to pet the skin of Payshun’s pussy. Payshun’s waxed vagina was nutmeg colored, with a sterling silver stud gracing the hood of her clit.
She continued to devour all of Austin’s angled cock with ease, smiling the whole time.
When he moaned, she moaned, and Austin inserted his middle finger deep inside her, probing her tightness. She ground back on his hand in a slow, circular motion. Teela stayed quiet and was all eyes.