Eventually, he pulled out of my throat for the last time. I breathed a few desperate breaths deeply, coughing. I was covered in slobbery drool shit all over my face, tits, pussy, and legs. He didn't wait for me to completely recover and pushed me down on my back length-wise upon the sofa. He reached down and cupped my pussy, slid a fucking finger or two inside, and pulled them out wet. He lifted my leg that was nearest the edge, then adeptly positioned himself in front of my open cunt while lifting my other leg so that both my legs were straddling his head and held up by his shoulders. One of his feet was on the floor, and his other leg was kneeling on the couch when he placed his thoroughbred horse cock against my pussy and started to push—gently at first, sliding in and out easily, and gradually getting it all the way in and hitting against something deep inside of me that didn’t hurt, but I had never felt it before. Then he pushed my legs back and made sure I felt him at maximum depth, and, while I was fucking pinned down by my own legs, he got to work fucking what was left of me to goddamn oblivion.
I could see that his bulging chest was dripping with sweat. This was the first time I could study his facial features clearly in the light, since, up to now, most of the time his face had been buried in my groin or mine in his. The classic West African features in his profile made him look handsome and majestic. He looked resolute and powerful, and he was resolutely fucking me to hell’s door. As he submerged deep and completely inside of me, and I could still feel the lingering sensation of his long fucking cock in my throat, it was as if my entire body was being fucked by this limitless mass of energy. I came over and over, and there was nothing else I could do except to moan and yell with each surging orgasm becoming more and more intense. He had made sure that I could work in several different positions before he was done with my fucking introduction and try-out.
I must have passed and deserved his parting blessings. In the end, I was lying on my back on the floor, as he stood above me and fucking jerked his big balls full of cum all over me. It shot out like from a shooting fountain, and the warm jism fucking sprayed on my breast, my face, and drizzled onto my abdomen. Then he got down and, hot as fuck, smeared his goddamn cum all over my tropical bird tat—all the fucking way up my tits to my chin and face, around my torso and swollen mound, and fucking down my leg.
I hadn’t moved for five or ten minutes to recover before he fucking crudely dropped my clothes on top of me. Silently, I put them on without cleaning up, except for wiping enough slobber shit off my face so that I could see, and drove home in the night covered in my sweat and slobber and his fucking cum. I felt depleted, used, and fucking fantastic. As soon as I walked into my apartment and maybe even before, I stripped off my clothes, and then I dropped into my bed like a sack of shit and quickly fell asleep. I fucking didn’t even shower until well after friggin’ breakfast the next morning, wearing all the dried spit and goddamn jism shit on me like a cloak of accomplishment and pride.
So, that’s how I got acquainted with Jaymes, and there is nothing else in hell that I can think of to top a night like that for a thrill. That’s all the romance I needed. As I mentioned, we get together a couple of times a month to let the freak out. It was a habit I couldn't break. No particular day, no set time; it was just when the mood hit. I would text him, and hopefully, the time wouldn’t conflict with anything I couldn’t change when he texted back. And always at his place. I excitedly showed up as a willing lamb to fucking slaughter.
And it just so happened we used the same couch again that Wednesday night before Ruby’s party. I had been to his place for about an hour, and I was standing on a platform, bent over and holding on to the back of the couch, and he was thrusting me from behind like a jackhammer. After taking me to the carnival of cum a few times, we went to where good girls aren’t supposed to go, and he gradually slipped his power driver up my ass. I screamed at first, even though I had prepared myself the best I could before I came over. Even then, he’s still an over-sized caliber that challenges the barrel to take in, but it’s all good from there—bang, bang, bang!
Maybe I would hate myself in the morning, but if I were really lucky, I would know why. Something, I didn’t know what, was going to have to make me change—if that was even possible.
I woke up late Thursday morning with my usual soreness in my throat, pussy, and ass after my hellfire sessions with Jaymes. I don’t know if the other girls he sees have to go through the same traumatizing workout that I do, or if he even sees other girls. But, this I know, Lula was right—he has an unquenchable appetite and with stamina to go along with it. I don’t know what powers him up so much—if it’s rage, hormones, steroids, or something else—but I’m so fucking glad to be of service. No more than twice a month, though, and he’s never complained.
I can’t say that I was beating myself up that following morning, either, for straying off course. Sure I was sore, but it was damn worth it. Could I honestly think I would be able to control my cravings that long; especially after I had starved myself from sex for several days and nights? Plus, with what Ruby had me fucking do the day before on the phone? I knew I was trying to save something special for Ruby, but, hell, it was mostly a fantasy still. I could leave myself an out until I get totally enraptured with her and confident we had a trusting relationship. Besides, I couldn’t get out of my mind how physically satisfying it was to get fucked by Jaymes and everything else it did for me in my head. Afterward, I always felt rejuvenated and relaxed, despite the temporary soreness. No worries.
I was just about to make a bowl of cereal when Marla called to remind me of our lunch date. She and the kids had a day off from school for some reason, and she wanted to know if I could meet them at the mall at a favorite restaurant. I didn't tell her that I forgot and immediately said yes for three reasons: I was starving; the walking would probably do me good to work off some of this pain I had in sensitive places; and because it's almost like I can have kind of a distraction from my urges by all the lively kid activity. Marla would be aghast at some of my wretched deeds—infractions like being a willing toy to a monstrous fuck-maniac. Of course, there weren’t going to be any confessions, yet maybe I could get a cleaner soul just by being with her. But I wouldn’t bet on it.
It was already close to eleven o’clock, so by the time I showered up and got dressed, it was time to go.
I really do enjoy being with Marla. She's so good and pure—except for some rare and brief cursing when she's angry. As I mentioned before, sometimes I think that one of the reasons she likes to be with me is so she can loosen the righteous obedience strings a bit. I hang with her to be good and she with me to be bad. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. I’m glad I can be that bad company she needs—can I go to heaven for that?
We met at Toni’s—an Italian food joint that serves spaghetti on the children’s menu. It was a favorite of the kids. It sounded good to me too—in fact, we all ordered spaghetti.
Marla asked me how I was doing and if I was getting dizzy or anything else in general.
“Nothing out of the usual,” I said.
She laughed. “Well, I’m supposed to be satisfied with that answer? Some of your usual scares me to death!"
“Very funny,” I replied, though she had something there.
Six-year-old Alissa, who had been studying my face off-and-on during the meal, asked, “Aunt Mindy, can I get shiny rings on my eye like yours?”
“Alissa,” Marla broke in, “what have I told you about that?”
“I know, but Aunt Mindy’s pretty, and she doesn’t look like a sinner,” Alissa explained.
“Well, no,” Marla said, trying to cover for her sister, “your Aunt Mindy is different.”
"I'm relieved I'm held in such high regard," I remarked. I turned to Alissa and said, "Tell you what, Alissa. When you turn eighteen, you can have rings anywhere you want."
“Whoa!” Marla broke in. “I don’t think so!”
“And I won’t go to Hell?” Alissa asked with wide-open eyes.
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“Not when I do it,” I said assuringly.
“Hey, I want a wizard tattoo on me!” Frank Jr. piped in. “On my arm!” It was the first time he joined any of our lunch conversation.
“Woo-hoo!” I yelped.
“Oh my God,” Marla said. “We’re ready to go, aren’t we? Did I say Mindy wasn’t going to Hell? Don’t be so sure.”
“Aunt Mindy, don’t go to Hell!” Alissa pleaded. “They don’t like tattoos there.”
“Don’t worry about me, kid,” I said, “they’ll throw me out after I tag the Gate.”
“Hey, Mommy!” she suddenly burst with a change of thought, “can we go to the shoe place? I need new shoes.”
Marla handled the check like she said she would, then fell into mall shopping mode with the kids. I tagged along for a while in case someone wanted an opinion. In this case, they didn't. We did walk around a lot, and it felt like it was doing me good. I wore a skirt sans panties so I wouldn’t have them or jeans rubbing me down there where I was still sore. I’m happy with most any excuse not to wear panties anyway. Ah, sweet liberty!
After an hour of lurking, I parted company with Marla and the kids and headed to my apartment. It was too early to go to work. In idle times like this, or just when I was still recovering from power-fucking by Jaymes, giving a blowjob is all I would need to do to satisfy my urge. I know, you probably think that after all the deep swallowing torture I had the night before should satisfy me for at least a few days, but as I've mentioned before, I absolutely loved to give fucking blowjobs. And I know it may be hard to believe, pun intended, but I didn't have a blowjob booty call friend! I needed someone I could ring up and say, Hey, I'm coming over to suck your dick. Or, I‘ve got to give you a blowjob right now. You have a fuckin' problem with that? There should be a hundred million guys that would like that, right?
But then I thought about it and wondered if maybe Jake would be my booty call friend whenever he recovers from his injuries. I would never get tired of sucking on his cock as long as he stayed cool. That’s been my problem with guys. Those I’ve dated for a relationship could never be eligible for blowjob calls. I don’t like being around any of them now and being told what a thankless bitch I was for all that they did for me. Basically, all that would comprise of unimaginative fucking, mediocre oral sex on my twat, and free weed. Those were their reasons that I owed them, and therefore, I should be their sex slave at their fucking beck and call. There’s a common denominator in this pattern, I know, but what the fuck? They all turn into assholes. Now I don’t give any of them my fucking blowjobs.
After work on Thursday, I went straight home. I felt I had made it past the major hurdle for having to wait until Friday night—or, at least, I was kinda waiting if you didn’t count last night’s little fuckathon with Jaymes. I was feeling beat, so I showered and went right to bed. I wanted to feel rested for the meeting with Ruby tomorrow night. I didn’t touch myself in bed like I usually do to help relax. I wanted to give my pussy and nipples another night of recuperation so I could appreciate Ruby all the better. It didn't stop my thoughts from imagining what could happen with Ruby, though—namely, if love might win over lust. And it didn't keep me from getting wet either. I fell asleep during the moments I got lost in my mind's image of Ruby’s shapely, hot naked body and taking close inventory of all her tats with my tongue.
Episode 8 – I’ll Show You Mine
Friday, at last! Work at the shop was steady and smooth. I even had the opportunity to apply some signature flair on a shoulder tat—a New American Traditional style with a conch shell resembling a skull complete with a peering hermit crab amid a colorful bed of urchins and sea grass. Work like that pumps me up like buttery fingers.
The jobs were light for a Friday, and I held out hope that we would close at a reasonable hour. I was energized and buzzing with the anticipation of seeing Ruby right after work. I had my area cleaned up in a flash, freshened myself up, and feeling quite adventuresome in my immodest way as I changed into clean black-bloom bikini panties, and was out the door as soon as Jerry declared us closed at midnight. So far, everything looked perfect for a sensuous evening with the devious nurse with the porn star figure. I had been fantasizing all day what it would be like to explore her body with my mouth and tongue––tasting her from her deep kissing mouth to her sweet, succulent cunt. I wanted that to happen so fucking bad that my pussy was already starting to swell and sprinkle with readiness. A swarm of poisonous jellyfish couldn’t stop me from going to her now.
I called Ruby to let her know I was on my way. Her voice sounded even more mellow and pleasing than I remembered.
“Oh, good – you’re early. I’m here,” she said comfortingly. “I’ll be so happy to see you.”
She repeated the directions to her house, tucked in a cul-de-sac. By the time she hung up, her pleasant and suggestive voice had turned me into a sweating, heart throbbing mess again. Even though she didn’t mention our call the other day, I was still reacting to it. Just thinking about how she had me walking through one of her examinations finger fucking myself at work had me fucking aroused. My simple panties were soaking, and my bra felt tight, and I was wondering why I was wearing it anyway.
Hell, why did I want to impress her so much? That was not like me at all. And I had no idea what was going to happen when I got there. I knew this was much more than merely a pick-up for the night. More than pure lust, I had different feelings about Ruby than I’ve had for others. I wanted to impress and be desirable to her because I wanted her to like me in a special way. Suddenly, I realized that I was hoping for another lover like Diana was to me almost ten years ago; someone a few years older and wiser, who was understanding, sexy, and fun. I didn't want to set my expectations up too high and be disappointed, so I took a couple of deep breaths to settle back down. It was really fucking strange for me to be thinking about these feelings and desires, and, holy fuck, it was making me uncomfortable. I told myself that I needed to accept whatever comes naturally—socially, sexually, and especially our feelings. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t force anything just to make it happen to meet my expectations. I wanted this relationship to be honest, open, and something we both could enjoyably grow into. I wanted it to be fucking easy.
I finally arrived at the said cul-de-sac and saw that one of the houses had its porch light on, and I confirmed the address matched Ruby's. The narrow-looking home looked a little off-center for the wide lot. High walls extended from the edges of the house that stretched all of the way across the front in both directions. I couldn't see what was behind the wall. There was a faint glow of light against the leaves of the trees that lined the back, and I could smell jasmine in the soft, warm breeze. My guess was that there was a swimming pool back there. Nice.
I pushed the lighted doorbell button with my trembling finger. I can’t believe I’m so nervous. Shit, it’s going to be okay, I said, trying to reassure myself.
The front door opened and I was surprised to see that the chick that opened it wasn’t Ruby. She was some darling cute dark-haired Polynesian babe who smiled at me with large, luscious lips. She was slightly shorter than me, wearing a thin, floral satin robe that did little to cover her cleavage or hide the bulges her nipples made. Its length stopped just short of mid-thigh.
"You must be Mindy," she said with an accent in a deep, whispery voice. I perked up, and I felt my body start to tingle in all the right places. Her dark eyes sparkled, and her little pug nose was adorable and pierced with a tiny, glittery flower blossom pin, and I felt the impulse to hold her head steady in both of my hands and lay kisses all over her big-lip smiling face, but I didn't think that would be good manners yet.
“Yes,” I answered, and I’m sure I was returning her inviting smile with a very mixed expressive stare. “Is Ruby—?”
“Oh, yes, she’s waiting for you. I’m Marcella. Please come in. I’ll lead you to her.”
She reached out and touched my upper arm to guide me into the hou
se, turned the porch light off, and closed and locked the door. I followed her through the living room, and I admired her from behind as she walked. Her hair was long and straight, her calves were tan, shapely, and smooth, and she was barefoot. She looked as if she had just walked off her island.
We passed through the archway at the end of the living room where the house opened up into a long-ass open area. On the left was a blood-red colored carpeted living area with cushioned sofa and chairs, big-screen tv, and a floor mattress, followed by a large kitchen, then a bedroom with see-through glass walls, and a private area that I assumed were more bedrooms. On the right side of the open area were a dining room table and chairs, and beyond that, an indoor swimming pool, lounge chairs, and a well-equipped workout area at the end. The right-side wall was entirely of glass, as well at the rear. The pool amazingly continued outside of the house and curved around to the back, where there were more lounge chairs and umbrellas on the back patio. The lighting inside was dim, and the pool lights were on, and I felt disoriented as I looked around. It was hard to tell where the inside ended and the outside began.
Mindy Poppago: Blue: Part 2: Requests, Commands, and Full-Bodied Demands Page 7
