ie; no degree, incarcerated, several children, unemployment, behind on child support, bad credit, living with a roommate or family member. However, he has a plan and direction and you can see his plan in motion with actual progress. A woman with something to offer by way of progress most likely won’t date him because she has a list of standards, but that is why I threw my list away.
It was a Sunday afternoon when the young Jamaican knocked on my door with flowers and a bottle of Cava and Prosecco because he thought I said to bring both. His name was Jordan but I would never refer to him as that again.
One Tuesday afternoon I was browsing my email with a headline from an old ad I had placed on CL months ago. This was the second email from that thread.
Hello, I was hoping to meet you if you are real-
I am real but I think you are too young for me-
If you meet me, I am confident you will change your mind. Think about it before you say no.
I agreed to meet him for happy hour on a Friday night. But that never happened because somehow I woke up Saturday morning at a friend’s house half naked and drunk. So I invited him over for Sunday Brunch, which impressed him because he was young and had no idea what “Brunch” was.
Upon meeting him, he seemed even younger looking in person. His face was soft and more friendly than the photos. He was tall and thin with minimal facial hair dressed in white skinny jeans and some ironic designer t-shirt. He held a bundle of mixed flowers and a bag from Whole Foods holding his entrance tickets, two bottles of sparkling libations.
After brunch, we sat on the sofa listening to Sade and chatting about random things that came to mind. With no lead-in, he asked, “ so, what do you think?”
About?” I honestly had no idea what he was talking about.
About Me!” he flashed a coy smile and grabbed my hand. “ I like you, I want to see you again.”
“Oh! I see that’s cool. We can be friends and all…”
He interrupted, “ I didn’t come here to be your friend,” his focus changed to my lips and I started leaning backward.
“Well,” I wasn’t sure if I wanted his advances. He seemed too young and possibly problematic on the long term. His eyes were a mirror of confusion and the betrayal he would never comprehend. I knew I wasn’t in the emotional position to comfort him. But...his hand was quicker than my thoughts and in seconds our bodies were tangled into a mop of acceptance.
My entire mind said NO! NO! NO! HELL NO! HELLLLLL NO! DID YOU HEAR ME? NOOOO!
My body paid no attention to the noise of my mind. The focus was on his voice spitting nasty commands in that Patwa accent he tried to hide in conversation. My panties melted when his tongue touched my thigh, he began licking from bottom up, spreading my legs further and further apart. He had me in a perfect position with no escape as he locked my legs around his head and dove in. My pussy could care less about whatever debate was happening in my head, she went on with the show. His finger slid right in as I recognized how bad of an idea this was because now I was never going to get rid of him. But I didn’t really want to, and I thought I could always Block his number so I got a condom.
I am more of a hit it from the back type because any man can achieve greatness in this position, with me at least. He didn’t need any assistance, as a matter of fact, I begged to just lay on my back. He was extremely talented as if he had practiced for this audition not to mention he really had a BBC. And missionary was only to my detriment. How does a man slow wind fuck you while gazing into your eyes telling you how he now "OWNS THIS PUSSY" and then you understand how women become whores for sale because the dick must have been THIS good.
He flipped me over into some yoga-like position with my arm under my body, his hand pulling my hand as our bodies connected below converging into one heated motion of energy. The sun spilled onto us between moans and sweaty crashes inspiring him to tunnel deeper into another orgasmic realm and then it happened. I went full blown retard for at least a minute, convulsing, and speaking gibberish while trying to retreat. He pulled me back to him and lowered his body onto mine peering into my eyes like a hypnotist, each stroke scrambled my thoughts until I could only concentrate on the vivid sounds between us.
He lifted up with a smirk on his face knowing he had full control of my body, “Is this my pussy?”
I could not speak and refused to admit that he had the upper hand in the situation, after all, I was still jolting in one orgasmic aftershock after another. His words only made it worse, “ is this my pussy?” he repeated with weighty strokes and a hand around my neck, “tell me, is this my pussy?” His hand gripped tighter and that swell of pleasure that starts at the top and ends in a dizzying explosion of colorful spots started to build. “Tell me!”
“YES!!!Yes,” I shouted involuntarily, OMG!!! I was overly impressed with his abilities. I completely underestimated him and was a little terrified that I might end up like some addict, pacing and scratching begging to do anything just to have more. After pleading for a break, I crawled to the bathroom because my legs were useless. I tried to gather myself and scold my pussy for betraying me out there. I mean, damn, I thought we were a team.
It wasn’t long before we were back at it, “you know,” I said, “you can come back for more, you don’t have to use up all your tricks today,” I was exhausted, and most certainly dehydrated. Another orgasm would have been pushing it but three more???
“Oh! I can come back now?” he gripped my thighs and penetrated, “Wonder why that is?”
I had no words only coddled noises escaped between fingers covering my mouth. I was in utter bewilderment. Who was this man? And how often could I get this dick?
Erotic Blog, NSFW