I gasped with each movement until I hit the base of his shaft. Keeping my eyes open was a fuckin’ challenge at this point. The pleasure this man provided along with the pain was like tellingsomeone they won the lottery and couldn’t spend any of it. I was impatient for the next orgasm because I knew this one would be more intense than the last.
“God, this feels so good,” I spoke softly.
“OG ain’t the one stroking this gushy muthafucka. Talk to me baby, not him.”
“Black…”
“Calling on me before I write my name in this wet shit… what you trying to do to a nigga, Brat?” he asked.
My toxic ass replied with, “Make you love me.”
A laugh rumbled in his chest before I was picked up and walked to the stairwell. Each step he took had me clinging to him more and more. We were being moved from the kitchen to the bedroom, and I was surprised his lanky ass had the stamina as well as strength to move from one place to another. His dick managed to stay within my walls comfortably. I wouldn’t let him slip out no way. How tight this pussy was, slip outs didn’t happen.
Once we were in the room, I was laid on my back and the stroking started immediately. My legs were pushed back toward my head and the drilling was all I could endure. The sounds of my juices being stirred had me smirking like hell. All of this just felt too good to be true and too good to be stopped.
“This muthafucka talking to a nigga Mama. Why she coating my dick like she know me? Why she gripping a nigga like she don’t want me to leave her, huh? Make me love you? I got time today.”
That was all he said before pulling out, flipping me over, and entering me from the back. The way my ass bounced off his stomach, the way every vein that outlined his dick was felt, the way I could literally feel him in my guts…
Cheyonne, tread lightly. Black is fuckin’ the shit out of you, and I don’t think you can handle it bitch.
“Fuck, right there,” I cried out.
“I know how to make pussy happy Brat. Don’t tell me how to stroke this muthafucka,” he uttered.
His hands rained down on my ass every few seconds sending a sting through my body. It hurt so good that I didn’t want him to pull out. Whatever this nigga had, I wanted it. I was beginning to love the way he felt inside of me and greed was right behind it.Damn.
“Make me cum aga… shiiiiiit!” I couldn’t even finish my sentence before I was squirting all over him again.
“Didn’t I just tell yo’ pretty pussy ass I know what I’m doing? You ain’t warn a nigga ‘bout this waterpark though. This what a nigga love.”
I knew you would.
In the mist of all this conversation, he didn’t miss one beat in pounding my kitty. By this time, a euphoric cloud had surrounded us. Nothing about this seemed out of place or forced and nothing damn sure made me seek anything other than another chance to cum. I’d fallen into a pool of overwhelming desire. Black awakened my soul with the things he did to my body. I was silently pleading for him to fuck me like he genuinely loved me. I could only imagine how much better the dick felt.
With a foot on the bed, he was thrusting inside of me like I was the one holding him hostage. All of him touched my cervix repeatedly. The bed sheets were gripped tightly as he long stroked my juice box. He was in that shit so good I felt trails of my fluids seeping down my legs. If only he recorded the moment…
Black clutched a handful of my hair while fuckin’ me silly. I was pulled back to him with my back touching his chest and dick in my stomach. “A nigga ready to nut, Brat. Where I’m putting it?”
In me. Please nut in me. Girl, snap the fuck out of it. You don’t know him. Then again, who the fuck cares when he’s making you cum so much. YOLO bitch!
“I don’t give a fuck where you put it, just don’t stop fuckin’ me,” I moaned.
That same chuckle from before was felt as a vibration against my back before I was pushed face down into the mattress. The pace of his strokes fastened causing a tightness in my stomach. He went fishing for a gut-wrenching orgasm and I’d be damn if he didn’t catch him one.
There was no climaxing without me. I refused to let him finish alone. As soon as my walls contracted, his name was moaned as a sign of satisfaction.
“Blaaaacckkkkk!”
“I wrote it in cursive. This shit is mine, Brat,” he claimed with his warm sperm crashing into my waves.
I was breathless, too caught up in the moment to think straight, and extremely happy. Being used didn’t seem so bad if the outcome was being treated like his favorite toy. When he pulled out of me, I had to catch myself from pouting. The separation was bittersweet. To go from being filled up and stretched out to feeling alone and unloved within seconds was mind blowing.
“Meet me in the shower, Brat, I ain’t done.”
Excuse me?
“I am,” I replied still trying to gather my thoughts.
