DD does a darkie…
…and loved it. But let’s keep it a secret, my mother is still alive. Kidding, maybe the news will send her over the edge. I enjoyed it and just the act of me banging a brotha might kill the racist old dinosaur. That’s like two birds, one big black cock. Ok so not really BBC, but he was about 7 inches and the right amount of thick. To be sure of his size, which he thought was average, I pulled out one of my new dildos and compared it. Yep, 7 inches. He seemed shocked to learn the average is closer to 5.25 inches (I bet he’d be really surprised to learn men that size can be just as good in bed, they just have to work for it.) A regular condom fit him just fine, so he fit in me just fine. I really don’t need monster cocks in my life- my vagina doesn’t lead to another dimension, after so many inches you’re just turning my cervix into a battered house wife. She’s sorry she burned the roast.
Lets back that ass up to the beginning of this soul train. He messaged me on MeetMe because my screen shots made him laugh. Hooray! Always a good sign. I take a cursory look at his profile, he checks out. We talk a bit, he’s not coming on to me or being shitty in any way. Alright, come over. I invite him over to play Halo, as I’ve been stuck on the last level of #2 for a fucking minute now and I just need someone to be a meat shield while I go in and save the day. He asked me why I invited him to come play, I wanted to tell him in the best way possible I’m not intimidated by Black men, or any man for that matter, so I said I felt I could take him in a fight. You’re welcome. He laughed, I win. Here’s the deal… I will never learn not to talk to persons of color the way I do if they keep telling me I’m hilarious. You’re enabling me, middle class white women love to point out I’m racist. So he shows up after getting lost (and I should mention here my MeetMe account was deactivated for violating their stupid rules, before he and I had a chance to exchange numbers… all he had was my address and no way to contact me.) Once he’s arrived we take a seat on the couch and hang out.
I almost turned my XboxOne on a couple times during our talking, but I was too distracted with wanting to learn more about him. Within the first five minutes of me speaking, he inquires if I’ve ever considered doing stand-up comedy. Truth is, I’m too chicken shit to get up on stage. I have all the respect in the world for those who do it, I cannot. He tells me I have the voice you want to listen to while I tell a story- that actually really flattered me; I hope he didn’t notice me blushing. I’m a strong independent woman who don’t need no compliments! Just kidding, stroke my ego and tell me I’m pretty. He asked me what I think he’s mixed with. Definitely not white…. I guess Polynesian. Shakes his head no. Ok… Filipino. Nods a yes. HA! Well… they’re both South Pacific Islanders, so I feel right either way. Also… where’s my gold star for that? By gold star I mean fresh lumpia, I’ll take a dozen please and thank you. I did get him to tell me where I can buy Filipino food in Anchorage, and you best believe I’m hitting that bitch up TOMORROW. Straight up soul food. Anyway, I’m getting distracted thinking about salt and vinegar everything. Here’s a fun thing you can never unlearn- the word nigger is hidden in vinegar. Look I only mention that because now that I can’t un-hear it, Paula Dean is hilarious. In fact all cooking show hosts are. You’re welcome in advance. FUCK ME SIDEWAYS, I’m sorry I keep getting distracted. I might be really hungry…. I had big, messy orgasms.
We hang out for a few hours, getting comfortable with each other. He asked me right off the bat what is my “type” usually and I don’t think I gave a very good answer. I mean, my type varies. I like lots of things, in many combinations. I told him how before my ex-husband I was pretty much all about white boys, all the time, but after leaving him I wanted to taste the rainbow and discovered I have a sickness for short Hispanic men. Maybe it was his way of asking if I’m into Black guys? Probably that, right? I’m into Black guys like him, for sure.Very good looking, well spoken, well mannered, polite, funny, finds my casual racism humor endearing. Yes, if you put up with my mouth and enjoy my jokes I automatically like you more. So he happens to have been a football player (QB to be exact) and did the college football thing; hearing his life growing up that’s pretty fucking cool. He has a degree in Health… mmmm, smart boy. We bonded over all the dumb shit people have said about Alaska once they hear we are from there. I’m all about him. He is cool as a cucumber when he asks me what the set up in my room is like, and can he see it. Oh… oh you wanna go into my room, huh? Yeah, we can do that- wink wink, nudge nudge. When he first got here I had no real intention of sleeping with him, but after talking for a bit I am absolutely convinced he does a good job with his ladies. Funny dudes… they fuck well.
In my room we hop on the bed, after I discretely hide my trident vibrator Pusseidon. Also known as “The Homewrecker” to insecure men. If you’re intimidated by a battery operated object I keep on hand, you’re probably not very good in bed. Just putting that out there. It’s so limited in what it can do, don’t feel threatened! Anyway, we get snuggly on my deliciously exquisite bed (that 3 inch gel memory foam topper is the best investment I’ve ever made besides my genital piercing,) and we continue chit chatting about nothing in particular. He asks to see my piercings, I show him pictures. He asks if I’ve ever masturbated in front of a man before (snicker, yes child,) and I can already tell he’s gonna be fun. We shifted the conversation away from me masturbating, so in my head I put a pin in it to come back to later. While we’re talking he’s started to touch me intimately. Yes… keep doing that. I like that there’s no pressure to do anything, it’s just natural progression and chemistry leading the way. I’m also kind of nervous; I know I don’t compete with the insanely attractive women he’s no doubt bedded in his life- I hope he gives me the D right and not half-asses it just to get his. I don’t feel like he’s that type, but I’ve been wrong before. So, so, so wrong before.
Cut to the chase, once he took his shirt off to show me his tattoos I was on attack mode. Take your pants off, sir. I lube up my hands and begin to stroke him- I am impressed with it. He is amused I am impressed. Look, I talk too much and I’m all too happy to tell you what I like. I like yo dick. He wants me to masturbate in front of him. Alright, Django, whatever you want. I use my toy on myself while he strokes himself, standing up on his knees between my legs. He moves my legs to get a better view, because I squirm when I get close and when I cum. And then I feel his hand… he wants to drive my stick shift. GET IT. I let go and he moves my toy differently than I do, but just having his participation was enough to push me over the edge again. Did he say something? I can’t hear you, I’m being loud. My ears are ringing by the second one. He had a condom ready when I unclenched my eyes. I’m on my back surrounded by a nest of comfy pillows and bedding. Starting off slow, he doesn’t put all of himself in me at once. Good technique, honestly. Those last two inches need a little warm up! God he feels good, I get off almost immediately. I can feel my lady business tighten around him (I call her She-Hulk, by the way,) and he continues to plow me like I’m that 40 acres promised to his ancestors. He’s the mule. Taking my legs up he positions them various ways to get in on all the angles, I’m losing my god damn mind. I know I’m going to make a big mess any second. I bear down right as I start to cum hard on his dick, and I feel the gush. He withdraws and there’s a splash. I kind of saw the spray. I guess I forgot to mention that’s a thing I can do, because he asked if I normally squirt. Mmmm…. yes? Kind of? I mean, I know when it’s coming. I have to be missionary, I have to be getting dicked down deeply, and I have to already came a few times. That, plus bearing down, equals wet spot every time.
I tell him I want to be on top. He pulls my legs up again and informs me he wants to get me one more first. He likes being in control. He likes fucking me with his big dick. I’m not saying no. I’m cool with you driving; you seem to know what you’re doing. I even put my foot up on his chest to try and push him onto his back, my go-to way of claiming the dominant position. He pushed my knees apart and fucked me harder. Oh… oh yes. GET IT. Finally he lets me take the reins and I get on top. Immediately he tells me to go slow. Why? Are you about to cum, sir? He is, he’s trying to hold back… unless I want to go another round… DING, DING, DING, DING! We have a winner! I don’t stop. I want him to get off and I want to be on top when he does. It looked and sounded marvelous. I like making him cum. We hang out a bit, I go play with his penis and tell him all about my lack of experiences with dark boys. I’ve had mixed before, but they’re usually much, much lighter. He’s tolerating me making his penis sing to me. I didn’t tell him but it was singing the opening song to Lion King, in Swahili. Finally he asks about getting another condom, after I got him hard again and he’s tired of listening to me say stupid shit. As he puts it on he asks if I like doggy style… looking at his python, I am wary. But, I bite the bullet and tell myself we can stop if it gets to be too much. I bundle up my pillows underneath me he dives right in. Oh sweet Jesus, it hurts so good. I’m 100% sure I was screaming. As the orgasm builds up to the crescendo he asks me if I’m about to cum- yes, clearly we are approaching the very loud Event Horizon. He goes harder and cums with me, with vigor.
As he cleans himself up I am feeling my heart beat out of my chest and I can’t help but laugh. I just had my socks rocked off by this beautiful man, and he’s absolutely wonderful- how did I bag such an athlete!? Why do I deserve this life!? He’s chuckling at my post-orgasmic bliss giggles. He calls me crazy. I’m not crazy, I’m eccentric- get it right. Why’d he cum so quickly the second time around? Because of how loud I was; that’s his thing. He gets off to his partner getting off, and I’m fucking loud. I lost it with that last one… for sure my neighbors just heard me get railed into oblivion, but you know what? Fuck ’em. I have to listen to them screaming at each other and fighting at all hours, for days on end. My windows are open because my house gets hot in the summer. There’s days I’m trying to masturbate and I’m hearing them beat the shit out of each other, it just makes it so much…. easier to cum. SHE CAN STILL SEE, HIT HER AGAIN. Joking! She beats him. Back to Mr. Mandingo, he says something about next time… I repeat, next time? He corrects himself, IF there’s a next time. Oh, there will be a next time if you want to play again! I am so, so down! After all, I haven’t even show you all my skills yet! I got tricks, nigga! That last sentence has him in hysterics. He’s on my team, that big sexy Halfrican.
He gives me his number before bouncing out, I text him it’s me. He asks for my blog link because he’s dying to read what I write, and not even just about him. I think he’s tuned in to my channel and gets it. 130,000+ views this year so far, am I famous yet? Can I please just keep fucking beautiful, smart, funny, thorough lovers until I am? My only real wish is that I could just do this all day. I have a stable of stallions and I want to share them with the world; my Histresses and cockubines.