I turned around to face him, and before I made it all the way, he got down on his knees and started pulling my taupe gabardine skirt up over my thighs, exposing my off-white, thigh-high stockings with lace around the top and my off-white silk panties. All I could say at that point was, “Damn!”
He pulled my panties down. I lifted up my legs, one at a time, so he could get them over my taupe pumps and completely off. He pushed my left leg up and placed it gently on his right shoulder and began to lick my pussy lips with his thick tongue. I was trembling all over, halfway because I felt guilty and halfway because I was feenin to see what was coming next.
I didn’t have to wait long to find out. Norman carried me back into his living room with my legs straddled around his waist. He sat me down in his leather armchair, spread my legs open, and placed one over each arm of the chair. He lifted my hips up, scooting them forward a little so that my pussy was on the edge of the chair. After that, boyfriend dug into his meal, and all I could keep repeating was, “Damn! Damn! Damn!”
I guess you’re wondering how I could let the godfather of my children suck on my pussy like that. Right? The answer is simple. It felt damn good. When he whipped his long, thick dick out, I didn’t fret about that either. I just put my lips to the shit and went to work on that bad boy. Tyler’s not hung like Norman, and I thought I was going to have problems taking it deep, but after a few moments of gagging and exerting much effort, I worked it like a master.
His dick was like a chocolate eclair. Chocolate on the outside and creamy on the inside. I contracted my cheek muscles around his dick, and all the blood rushed into it, causing the veins to bulge. I caught a good rhythm, and he started trembling, caressing the back of my neck with his fingertips and running his fingers through my hair. About fifteen minutes later, after almost developing lockjaw, he finally came. It was worth all the trouble because his cum was delectable.
I started taking my legs down, getting ready to get up and go home before Tyler and the boys beat me back. Norman stopped me. “No, wait, Janel. I’m not done with you yet.”
“This isn’t right, Norman.” I was putting my legs down while he was steady holding them open. “We can’t do this shit to Tyler.”
“Shit, we’ve already done it. No matter what happens from this point on, the dirty deed has already begun.” With my legs still spread out over the arms of the chair, he pushed my back onto the chair and started unbuttoning my blouse. “I’m a breast man.”
That was all he had to say. My breasts are another one of my spots. “Is that right?”
“Damn skippy!” He got my blouse all the way open and unfastened the clasp in the front of my bra. He started palming both my tits at the same time. I was a helpless victim, so I put my hands behind my head and enjoyed the ride.
Norman suckled on my nipples for a couple of minutes and then did some deep-throating of his own. He pressed them together and sucked on them both simultaneously. I was so mesmerized by the way he was giving my tits the once-over, I never even saw the dick coming until it parted the lips of my pussy and directed itself all the way in. Norman helped a little, but his dick had a mind of its own.
With my hips still hanging over the edge of the chair and legs spread-eagled, he grabbed my ankles and pushed them as far apart as possible so he could tear my little ass up. I had never been fucked like that before. My inner thighs were shaking more than they did both times I gave birth. Having his huge dick inside me was like having labor pains all over again.
Norman started fucking me so fast and hard, I could feel and hear his balls slamming up against my buttocks. I started screaming, literally, because I couldn’t handle the sex he was giving me. He had to let go of one of my ankles so he could cover my mouth before his neighbors called the police or alerted building security. That’s how much he made me lose it. I was a fucking maniac and started biting on his hand to muffle my own screams. He didn’t stop, nor did I want him to. He didn’t stop until I came about three times. Then, he exploded inside me like a Mack truck hitting a brick wall at 100 mph.
He lay there on top of me with his knees still on the floor and his dick pulsating inside me for a few more minutes before I whispered, “I have to go, Norman.”
He didn’t say another word while I got up and fixed my bra and blouse. I stopped near the front door to slip my panties back on, and as I headed out the front door, I looked back to see him sitting there in the armchair with his head buried in between his hands. For him, the guilt trip had already begun.
We have never mentioned it, nor do I plan to. I feel it’s for the best. Norman has yet to get in another serious relationship since Tracie, and I see the way he looks at me whenever he comes over. I’m just grateful Tyler hasn’t noticed it. As for me, I do have some guilt, but I just got caught up in the heat of the moment. With Tyler ignoring me half of the time, I look at it this way. If it had to be someone, I’m glad it was Norman.
Would I ever do it again? Absolutely not! Well, probably not. A girl has to have some scruples, you know?
The Barbershop
Enough was enough! I had tried everything imaginable to get the brotha’s attention short of hanging a Take Me, I’m Yours sign on my back. I first met Keanu when I took my little brother, Darwin, to the Cutting Edge Barbershop to get a fade one Saturday morning.
I sat there pretending to be enthralled in an issue of Sports Illustrated while all the men cackled on and on about this honie or that honie. Movie stars mostly who wouldn’t give any of them nuccas the time of day. I would gladly invest in a vibrator before giving it up to any of their busted asses.
This one snaggletooth brotha was sitting in the corner, waiting his turn and bragging about how he could turn Halle Berry out. I started to interject my two cents and tell his ass to get real. There he was in his plaid shorts, white sleeveless undershirt, black penny loafers, and white tube socks with red stripes, bragging and boasting about how he could fuck a sista so hard that she would beg for mercy. I started to tell him, “A sista will simply look at your ugly ass and beg for mercy.”
By the time Darwin finally got into a barber’s chair, I couldn’t take snaggletooth’s bama ass anymore, so I told him, “Negro, please! No one wants your skank ass!”
That did it! I had managed to be incognito up until then, hiding behind the pages of the magazine. Once I spoke some words, it was like every nucca in the place suddenly noticed there was pussy present. All of them except for Keanu. His fine ass didn’t even look my way. He was too busy shaping up this knucklehead who kept winking at me and doing that I-want-to-lick-the-lining-out-your-pussy motion with his tongue.
I don’t know whether the pygmy in Keanu’s chair drew my attention to him or the fact he didn’t so much as give me a sideways glance, but I knew right then and there I had to have it.
I’m not sure how many of you sistas can relate, but there are times when you see something you simply must have, and you know from jump that you will move heaven, earth, and any hoes lurking around out the way to get it. That’s how I felt when I first spotted Keanu.
About six-foot-two, café au lait, enough muscles to lend three other brothas some and still be the bomb-diggity, cinematic smile, neatly shaven, and bald as a baby’s ass. Not the kind of bald where the nucca’s head is shaped like a peanut or a gigantic, elephantine football, but the sexy kind of bald.
Before I could really get my erotic daydream going about his ass, Darwin’s head was cut and the barber who cut it was in my face, holding his hand out for his ten buck
s. The one who cut Darwin’s hair, Randy, was not fine. In fact, his ass was not hitting on anything at all. His foul, au naturel breath made me want to shove a clove of garlic down his throat to improve the aroma.
When we walked by Keanu’s chair on the way out, I tried to give him the eye. You know, the eye that tells a man you want to give him a candlelight bubble bath and then lick his ass dry? He didn’t even glance my way. Now granted, I’m not the finest sista on the planet, but I was accustomed to getting mad play, and frankly, I was offended by the fact he didn’t even blink in my direction.
It was all good though, because by the time we walked the three blocks home, I knew Keanu’s ass was in for it. I was going to get that dick if I had to camp outside of that barbershop and kick tramps to the curb to get to it.