tagLoving WivesCarnival Orgy

Carnival Orgy

by75corner©

When I opened my hotel room door I found my husband naked and spread-eagled on the bed. A young black girl was riding him like a banshee. She bounced on him wildly, her head tossing to and fro as her lithe form gyrated madly on his cock. My husband's hands gripped her hips in a desperate attempt to keep her from flying right off him. His eyes were squeezed half-shut and his teeth were clenched in agonizing ecstasy. I saw his pale cock slashing in and out of her dark brown depths. They were having the time of their lives.

"Oh, hi, Honey," he said, moving his head to look around his dancing prize and smiling at me. "I lost you in the crowd.

Without missing a beat, the girl turned her head to look at me. She shot me a dazzling smile of perfect white teeth then turned back to pay attention to the job she was doing to my man.

I turned to the skinny Rasta man I'd brought with me.

"We're late," I told him while grabbing his hand and yanking him into the room. I slammed the door and pulled my t-shirt off in a heartbeat. I pressed my naked breasts against his still sweaty chest and French kissed him hungrily. He took his cue and his strong hands grasped my buttocks and hoisted me into the air. He dumped me on the room's other bed and stripped my short-shorts and panties off me in one smooth motion. It took him five seconds to get naked and his charcoal colored body was on me. He expertly found my hole and his long, thick snake pushed inside me in one long, rapid stroke.

I shrieked. I had never been so full in my life.

"Kyto don't make no joke," he laughed as he started pounding away in me. By his forth stroke I exploded in a thunderous orgasm as his dreadlocks whipped across my face.

......

I met Kyto by accident.

It was carnival in the Caribbean and my husband, Bill, and I had opted to attend one of the many spontaneous street dances, or tramps, as they called them.

The crowd dancing and swaying down the street was enormous. A sea of people undulated in a winding river of lascivious motion in time to the loudest band I'd ever heard. I was taken aback by the kind of dancing that was going on. Men were hanging onto women from behind, rapidly grinding and rotating their crotches into the backsides of the women in front of them. The women, bowed slightly forward, were pushing their ample derrières back into the men with even more raucous movements.

I gaped. I had never known women could move their bodies in the manner these native women were.

"Come, on, Anna! Let's get into the fun," my husband yelled and dragged me into the crowd.

The heavy, heavy beat of the bass drum was impossible to resist and I instantly fell into time with the crazy street rhythm. My husband's arms snaked around my waist and I suddenly felt his crotch against my butt. He started moving his waist in a crude imitation of the other males around us.

The crowd moved us forward and down the street. Beside us, two girls had a guy sandwiched between them. The girl in front was bent almost to the ground as her rump made contact with an obvious bulge in his pants. The girl behind had her arms around his waist and was pressing her crotch hard against his bucking butt.

Oh my God! I was getting wet between the legs out here in public with thousands of people around me.

The sandwiched man next to me raised a leg high in the air, getting a tighter fit against the bum of the girl in front. The crowd pushed us forward but I turned my head to look back at them. My last glimpse was of him grabbing a third girl from the crowd and roping her into his rowdy embrace.

This was going on all around us. The band had the crowd whipped into a sweaty, vibrating, clothes-on orgy.

I felt my husband's motion change behind me. It suddenly became smoother, more rhythmic, more sure of itself. I smiled. Maybe calypso music would make a better lover out of my husband.

I reached my hand back to touch my man and jumped in shock. It wasn't my husband's arm I'd grasped. I looked behind me to see a skinny Rasta man, head raised to the sky, mouth open and head swaying in unbridled, unrestrained joy. He noticed that I'd noticed him.

"No worry. No problem, white lady," he said in a rich accent. "Have fun, miss, have fun!"

I looked franticly left and right in the crowd for my husband.

"No worry, no worry," the Rasta Man chanted. "Your man done find a princess to wuk up on."

The music was hypnotic and this Caribbean youth certainly knew what he was doing. His body moving against mine, touching me in ways I had never felt before. I felt like a sexual being, like this street dancing was what my body had been designed for. He was smooth against me. The shifting of his waist was timed incredibly to something inside me. His every move dragged me deeper and deeper into a sexual miasma that was new to me. I lost my sense of caring, my sense of time, my inhibitions. I drifted off into the music and the sensation of this stranger moving so intimately behind me. I forgot all about my husband.

My pussy leaked and I trembled in orgasm right there in the street.

.....

All too soon the tramp was over. We were at a ramshackle circle of gaily painted wooden buildings. Booths, they called them. People were crowded up to each of them calling for drinks and food.

"Come," the Rasta Man said. "I get you the best sea moss on the island."

Sea moss? I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

He led me by hand through the mingling, sweat soaked crowd. Another band was playing on a wooden stage in the middle of the booths. Some people were dancing, some were standing and talking. Everyone was dressed in shorts and brightly designed t-shirts.

"This is Mamie," the Rasta said, introducing me to a heavy set middle-aged black woman. She had a handkerchief tied around her head and a stained flower print apron around her waist.

"Kyto. I ain't see you in God's ages. What you doing, boy?" She exclaimed when she saw us. "And who you bring me now?"

Kyto grinned in a carefree way that I soon realized was his trademark.

"This a tourist lady I meet in the tramp," Kyto yelled over the band music. "She could whine pretty good for a white lady."

What was that supposed to mean?

My puzzlement must have shown on my face because Mamie laughed.

"That's a compliment, lady," she said. "He means you can dance. Now, Kyto, what you want of me today?"

"Two sea moss," Kyto replied. "We wuk up a good sweat out dere."

"I could imagine."

Mamie reached for a one gallon water bottle filled with a thick white substance. Tiny dots of something black were suspended throughout it. She shook up the jug and poured it over ice into two large disposable plastic cups. Kyto took out a huge roll of cash, paid her, then handed one of the cups to me. I looked suspiciously at the milky fluid.

"Drink it," Kyto laughed. "It ain't gon kill you."

He threw his glass to his head and swallowed a huge gulp.

I gingerly put my cup to my lips and took a cautious sip. It was sweet, had the consistency of milk shake and was unlike anything I had ever tasted before. I was amazed.

"What is this?" I gasped after taking a longer swallow. I wiped a sea moss mustache from my lips with the back of my hand.

"Just what I tell you," Kyto smiled. "Sea moss. It's a bush we pull from the ocean. We boil it out, mix it with milk, sugar, cinnamon and some other things. Is good for you. Put your sweat back into your body and make you strong for your husband."

"Strong for my husband?"

"Yes," he said, pumping his hips. "Strong for your husband."

"Oh."

.....

Kyto volunteered to walk me back to my hotel. He had shown me around the carnival village. Everyone there seemed to know him. He talked, always smiling, rapidly to people, often in such a thick dialect that I couldn't rarey understand his English. Many of the men he talked to seemed quite impressed that he had a pretty white lady on his arms.

And I was, literally, hanging onto his arms. This smiling, skinny black Rasta man, not really all that good looking, had somehow charmed and captivated me. I didn't want to let him go.

I still had my arm tucked into his when we reached the hotel. However, as we approached the lobby, he pulled his arm from mine and his ever present smile faded. He stopped at the lobby door.

"What's the matter?" I asked. "Aren't you going to walk me up to my room?"

Kyto's manner was nervous now. His body had stiffened and his eyes were looking around.

"They don't like my type around in there," he mumbled, lowering his head.

"What? Why?"

Kyto was such a happy, carefree individual that I couldn't imagine anyone not wanting him around.

"My dreds," he said, pulling on a lock of hair. "The hotels don't like Rasta man. They prejudiced against us."

"Well, they are going to like this one," I said and locked my arm back into his. I opened the lobby door and strode boldly inside, giving him no choice but to be dragged along.

All the hotel employees' eyes were instantly on Kyto. I hesitated a half step, then quickly decided to forge onward. Not looking left or right I pulled Kyto with me through the lobby and straight to the elevator.

Thinking back, I'm not certain what I was expecting at that point or why I even brought him into the lobby with me. I had intended to say good-bye to Kyto at the hotel door and head on up to my room to find my husband and expend on him the sexual energy that had been building up inside me. I had never given any thought to taking this engaging Rasta man to bed.

Now, ascending in the elevator, my thoughts did turn to him. What would he be like in bed? Would he be as carefree and talented as his street dancing suggested? What did he look like naked? What would a hard, black cock feel like inside me?

I was starting to get wet again, thinking of a big brown shaft penetrating my pink pussy lips. My nipples hardened and actually started to hurt. I leaned into Kyto, pressing a breast against his side, easing a tingling nipple. I suddenly decided to hell with everything. I wanted him inside me.

It took too long for the elevator to reach my floor. When the doors finally opened, I grabbed his hand and practically ran down the hallway, dragging my prize behind me. I reached my door, pulled my key card from my front pocket and, fumbling anxiously with it, slid it through the reader twice before getting the door unlocked.

When I opened my hotel room door I found my husband naked and spread-eagled on the bed. A young black girl was riding him like a banshee.

......

Four strokes.

I had never had an orgasm so quickly in my life.

I believe I blacked out for a few moments, there. Kyto had slid quickly and smoothly into me, stretching me like I'd never been stretched before. He took me like I was his right, without pause or hesitation. An instant, certain and absolute taking that left no doubt that he possessed me. His rigid pole entering my body was such a shock that I felt my entire womb tremble inside. When he pulled back, I felt I was being dragged out with him. Then he rammed back in again, touching me deep inside. He stretched me, he poked me, he turned my world inside out.

I hadn't yet caught my breath from the scream I'd let out as he first entered me when his fourth stroke descended. It came crashing in, touched something and lights flashed before my eyes. My body jerked up into his, my flesh quivered and my world exploded into darkness.

I came out of my orgasm panting rapidly. My pussy reacted to his every motion, twitching and shivering unbearably. I was having back to back tiny multiples that had me moaning and shaking my head.

Calypso music blared from the alarm clock radio on the bedside table. The sassy rhythm gave tempo and timing to our fucking. We were dancing horizontally with each other.

Kyto moved in a way that was new to me. He was loose in his motions. He didn't screw me with a rigid back like my husband did. He pumped from his waist. His cock would be descending into me while his chest swayed from side to side, rubbing my swollen breasts. His hips rotated in counter-clockwise circles and sometimes did figure eights. This caused his cock to rub around inside me, touching the walls of my womb.

I gasped suddenly as his cock touched something inside me from new angle. He sensed my pleasure right away and maintained that angle, touching that spot again and again and again. I began to wail as the sensation became unbearable. One of his hands reached under me and tightly gripped an ass cheek. He nuzzled my neck with his mouth and began to suck. I arched my hips upward, increasing the pressure on my new pleasure spot. He pulled back, rammed in, hit it again and I broke.

That is the only way I can describe it. I broke. Something sweet and pleasant ripped outward from me, blossomed rapidly over my body, and I went limp in an exhausting, mind blowing rush of pleasure.

Then he came in me. He let out a loud "ahhhhhh!" and liquid splashed against my back wall. He shuddered as another stream of semen gushed out, filling me, seeping from me. His sperm-lubed cock slickly slid deeper in me than ever before and he bottomed out, collapsing his shaking body on mine.

He gasped and wheezed, shuddering like an epileptic. I lifted my weak arms up and hugged him tightly to my breasts.

It was a few minutes before I remembered where I was and that there was a world around me. I looked to my left, to the other bed, where my husband lay on his back with his eyes closed. The girl he'd been fucking was reclining beside him. Her head rested one hand, the elbow of which was propped on my husband's chest. Her other hand fiddled with his limp dick, trying vainly to get him hard again.

"Good luck," I thought to myself. When my husband cums, say good-bye to the rest of the night.

Kyto was moving over me again. I realized that his penis had never gone soft.

"You like fire," He whispered into my ear. "You make me hot all over."

This was the sweetest compliment I had ever received and it sent shivers across my body. Kyto moved slowly within me. He wasn't pumping, just moving his hips in slow, gentle circles. He lifted his body a little, bent his head and started sucking one of my breasts. His dred locks slid across my other breast, sending tingling shocks through it.

"Oh, Kyto," I moaned, pulling my Rasta to me. I slid my hands down his back and grasped his taut butt. I pulled him down onto me, pushing his cock deeper inside. I fingered his anus and smiled at the intake of breath that Kyto took. He raised his head from my breast, looked into my eyes, and then kissed me. Our tongues swirled in a quiet exploration of each other and his hips slowly build up speed.

He never pumped in and out this time. He just rotated his hips faster and faster. I gasped and pressed my finger tighter to his bum hole until the tip popped inside.

"What you doing to me?" he gasped as I probed deeper.

His motions became more frantic. I kept his hips plastered tight against me. I rotated my own hips opposite of his rotation. Our breathing became frantic.

"Oh, Kyto. Oh, Kyto," I moaned as his cock swept around faster and faster in my pussy. I was building towards another climax and I wanted to take my Rasta with me.

I found his prostate gland with my finger, and pressed it just as my orgasm hit.

"Jah!" he yelled and spilled more seed in me. "Oh, Jah, Jah!"

I wrapped my legs around his skinny ones and rode a wave of ecstasy that nearly bucked him off me.

We came down from our orgasmic high gradually and he rolled off me. He stared at the ceiling for a minute before turning on his side to face me. I was still on my back and turned my head to look at him. He was studying my face.

"You is one beautiful lady," he said.

I smiled at him. He reached out with a hand and stroked my hair, trailed the hand down my cheek and shoulder and touched my breast. He started playing absently with my nipple. It felt good.

"Your husband ain't gon shoot me when he done over there?"

I laughed. He laughed. I rolled over and hugged him. I got him on his back and straddled his manhood.

"He has me the rest of his life," I said. "You have me today."

I glanced over to my husband. He was showing signs of life and, to the satisfaction of his partner, had his head buried between her thighs.

I started moving up and down on my Rasta.

"Just make today last me the rest of my life," I said.

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