He ate me out for an hour at least, licking my clit and fingering my pussy. I liked the short strokes pressing on the back side of my clit. My husband calls that the little dick guy. I don’t know exactly which of his fingers he was using, but it felt kinda like a thumb.
He tried to bring me to an orgasm on my back, but the sensations came and went like waves in the ocean. They’d build then they’d disappear. The crash on shore wasn’t strong enough to produce a climax inside of me. So I turned over and put my butt in the air.
He ate me out like this, holding my legs to secure our position and bringing his face in my hot wet horny pussy. He licked and licked with his tongue and I helped grow the intensity by twerking my hips up and down.
The fantasy of the neighborhood came back. I was 14 and part of some gang bang ritual that was supposed to transform me into a whore over night. The guys told me how to suck their dicks and positions my body how they wanted to fuck it. I had no choice and a part of me already knew this day was coming. All of the other girls in the neighborhood had to do this. As long as I did want my pimp told me to do, I’d get my daily pills and not get pregnant, that’s what I was told over and over.
The ecstasy feeling started to come. I arched my back more sticking my pussy vertical to my husband’s face. He kept licking and fingering me, I kept twerking and imagining raunchy scenes and stories.
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” I moaned to him and his licking became like a heavy machine on a mission. There was no way I could perch my pussy any further in the air despite the wanting to, needing to. “Fuck, that feels amazing.”
My orgasm began to roll like a downtown parade, slow but worth the wait. The intensity was too much at some point, I screamed and tried to pull away. But his arms had me locked it.
“Stop it. Stop it,” I whined still reeling from the climax that took every bit of energy from me. I think I was even sweating. My clit was on fire and feeling too sensitive, but my husband didn’t stop.
He kept the pressure on me like he wanted more, he wanted another scream, another orgasm, another whimper, maybe a squirt of liquid, my own cum from deep within. I resisted him moving my butt all around in my meager attempt to kick him off.
It was over, my deal at least. My husband raised up, blew his nose on a shirt and slowly entered my juicy pussy from behind. It was heaven all over again, the big dick version.
“Arch your back, put your pussy up where I can see it,” he demanded.
I did as best I could while rebounding from the nirvana trip I was on. It occurred to me that he wasn’t aware of my fantasy. I almost never tell him what I’m thinking.
“I was being fucked by a black guy with a huge dick,” I finally uttered grabbing at the sheets all around me to steady my body from his powerful thrusts.
“Oh my God, you fucking whore, you.”
That was all his needed. His dick grew. My body pulled back. I twerked his dick the same way I was twerking his face moments earlier. He silently rolled into his own orgasm, bursting his own downtown parade inside of me before falling on the bed in exhaustion.
Minutes passed. I opened my eyes to see him starring at me. There was no pat, pat, pat. No I loves yous or that was incredibles. He was a goner, eyes open but his body completely comatose. His eyes slowly shut. I fucked him to the most restful sleep possible and felt proud of my accomplishment.
I turned out the main light and flipped on my lamp, grabbed my book, my water, my glasses and read for hours as my pussy stayed nice and damp.