bag and pull out a leather whip. I crack it to the floor, walking back over to him. “You know what’s next, don’t you, you sneaky fuck?”
He whimpers, nodding. His eyes bulge as the whip continues to crack and snap against the concrete floor. I walk behind him, and give him ten lashes across his ass. He yells, pleads, as I whip his ass mercilessly. His body jerks. Then when I tire from swinging the whip, I abruptly stop and walk back in front of him. I grab his dick, then gently slip it into my mouth. I slurp it, suck it down, then stop when it begins to thicken. “If you nut, I’m gonna whip your ass again, you horny bastard,” I warn, slipping his dick back into my mouth and lovingly nursing it into a full erection.
He moans.
I moan.
Then…damn it—just when the shit was starting to get good, I wake up to a soaking wet pussy. Ugh, I hate this shit!
Hmmm…I never really thought of myself as someone who could get turned on by that whole dominatrix shit. But the thought of having a man be totally submissive is exciting, and quite entertaining. What would I do to him? Maybe have him wear a diaper and suck a pacifier, then get spanked by Momma before being put to bed, or making him worship my beautiful body, giving me a tongue bath with his thick tongue cleaning my asshole and pussy out; or make him beg me to sit on his face and smother him with my pussy, smearing my juices all over his lips, then making him suck my bloody Kotex; or maybe, make him lean over a chair while I whip his bare-ass with a belt until it whelps and blisters for being naughty, then make him jerk his dick and eat his own nut; or pinch and twist his nipples, then squeeze and dig my fingernails into his balls. Oh my God, the thought has me hysterical. I’d probably torture the hell out of his ass. I wonder how many men there are who crave to be dominated, and about the number of women who seek to dominate them.
I run my hands between my legs and play in my dick-hungry snatch. The dream has me so fucking horny. I need a dose of dick, ASAP. I glance at the clock, knowing it is too late to have someone come through to hit this pussy off. Well, it’s not, but I don’t want to chance them not being out of here before the sun rises. So I opt for plan B. I climb out of bed, go into my closet, and pull out a wooden box from the top shelf where I keep my sex trinkets, a large collection of pussy pleasing gadgets to get me off. When I find what I am looking for, I saunter back over to the bed to begin my mechanical stimulation.
Oh, how I enjoy masturbation. I do it daily. At least two to three times a day depending on my schedule. There are even times while I’m at work when I’ve gotten so horny that I’ve had to close my office door, put the “do not disturb” on my phone, then handle my business. Other times, I’ve gone into the ladies’ room and done myself just to take the edge off until I was able to get home. When I’m finished, I typically feel so energized, I’m practically racing. So masturbation definitely does the body good. Is there anything wrong with that? Hell no!
But of course some folks might think otherwise. Fuck ’em! Shit, it’s safe, and it keeps me in tune with my body. And using sex toys really aids in the process.
Speaking of masturbation, who do you think masturbates more: men or women? I’d suspect men do since they typically have sex on the brain more than most women. But, I do believe that there are a large number of women who enjoy playing in their pussies. Hmm…I wonder how many couples get off watching their partners get themselves off.
I know I personally love watching a man beat his dick. Sometimes, I like to help him out a little by either licking or sucking his balls, licking/sucking on his nipples, sometimes even flicking my tongue across the head of his dick while he’s stroking it. Or I’ll join in and masturbate with him. Other times, I like to sit across from him or next to him and watch. Truthfully, there’s something about hearing and watching a man cum that turns me on. Oh, how I wish there was some dick here tonight. I’d have him laying in the center of the bed, with his legs stretched open, jerking his dick off for me while I lowered my pussy over his face with my back towards him so I can watch him long stroke his cock while he’s eating my pussy. My mouth drools at the thought.
I glance over at the clock again. 4:10 a.m. In three more hours, it will be time for me to get up and get ready for work. I let out a sigh. The last thing I want to think about is work. “Fuck,” I say out loud as I lay back in bed and spread open my legs.
I don’t feel like fucking; but I definitely feel like being on my knees licking some big black balls, running my tongue along the veins on a thick, juicy dick. Hell, I might even let the nigga slap his dick across my lips and face, while I moan and beg him to feed me his cock as I play in my pussy. I want him to run his hands through my hair, pump his throbbing shaft in and out of my mouth, and talk dirty to me, while I deep throat him, gulping down every inch of him, wrapping his dick with my soft lips, burying it down my throat, submitting to him on my knees, sucking, and licking, and slurping, willing and eager to make him feel good until he nuts that sweet dick cream. Oh, shit. Just thinking about it has my pussy aching.
I pull open my pussy lips with my right hand, then take my left hand and slip my index and pointer fingers into my mouth and wet them up, before placing them on my clit. I work my clit, pressing down in slow circular motions, making it swell to an aching knot of flesh. I am rubbing my pussy, winding my hips to a beat that causes my pussy lips to swell with excitement and get slick. When I can no longer take the yearning that is building up inside of me, begging for an escape, I reach for my Ben-Wa egg and slide it inside of me. My pussy greedily slurps it in. Then I take my Mini-Tongue and turn it on high and allow it to lap at my pussy and clit. “Oh, oh, oh…Mmmm… Mmmm…” I moan. It doesn’t take long before I can feel a nut roaring inside of me. Between the vibrations of the egg inside of me, and the vibrations of the Tongue on my clit, my hot juices spurt out of my pussy like hot lava from an erupting volcano, spilling down the crack of my ass and onto the sheets. I scream and moan to the high heavens, sweat and cry, and cum a hundred more times until I am practically weak. After my earth-shattering adventure, I pull the egg out of my wetness, suck off my sweet juice, then drift back into a peaceful sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Tonight, I’m really not in the mood for this shit. I take a deep breath. Now, when a man breaches the rules of engagement, like continuously coming here unannounced, putting hickeys on my damn body, trying to check for me, catching feelings, or getting sloppy with his creep, then he has to be shut down, quick, fast and in a damn hurry. Bottom line: A careless man is an absolute liability.
I have no time or patience for a raggedy mofo who has the potential to bring me drama. And this is exactly why I like to stick to my ninety day rule of simply fucking ‘n dumping them. But, every so often, as you already know, I seem to get swooped up in the funnel of bullshit, like right now.
“Listen, stop buggin’,” Jamil says, huffing. His ear is pressed to his cell, and I can hear screaming on the other end—a female’s voice, which tells me this conversation is a domestic dispute. Now, normally, when I’m in the mood for some fast, rough, furious fucking, I like it when there’s a little trouble in paradise because then the men I’m fucking will try to take their frustrations with their women out on my pussy. But, today, I am not in the mood for having my snatch beat up because shit isn’t going right at home. And here lately, Jamil seems to be caught up in a lot of home drama. “I already told you no, so why you keep asking me the same bullshit. Look, I gotta go.” He hangs up, tossing his cell on the sofa. I eye him, watching him kick off his boots, then removing his shirt. “Always fucking bitching,” he mumbles, stripping off his jeans. He doesn’t have on any underwear, so his dick swings freely.
“Is everything all right?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to start his whining. He eyes me. I smile to myself, knowing he doesn’t want to have a repeat of what happened a few weeks back when I tossed him up out of here.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he says. “Ole girl bitching again. C’mon”—he walks up and grabs me by the hand—“let’s go upstairs. I don’t feel like talking about it. I really want some pussy without all the extras, feel me?” His cell phone starts ringing again. He ignores it, pulling me by the hand. “I ain’t beat.”
All of a sudden, my cell starts ringing. My first thought is that it’s one of my sex charms, or one of the strays I straddle from time to time. But, the number is restricted, so I don’t answer. I let it go into voice-mail. Two seconds later, it rings again. The number is still restricted, but for some reason I pick up thinking maybe it’s important.
“Hello?” I say.
All there is on the other end is a bunch of heavy breathing, then silence. I hang up.
