Licorice-Centered Milk Chocolate

Heart racing, moaning, shimmering with anticipation, as milk chocolate, beefy-fingered hands glide over creamy white skin. Trembling as they search for and explore curves and crevices, zeroing in on heaving breasts. Groaning as rough-padded fingers rub, and twitch, and pinch tender nipples. Arching chest up from bed before the hovering milk chocolate monolith, rising to the inevitable. Crying out as full lips find nipples and mouth opens around aureoles, closes tight, and gives suck. Melting at teeth sliding across engorged nipples. Opening mouth to gasp at the hint of a bite on a nipple, only to have heavy lips crush mine and thick tongue push in. Opening eyes to his, very close now, filled with desire, determination, insistence.

Easing back on bed, as he rises up below me. Breathless as I watch giant hands gliding across my body, slowly working their way to my center. Milk chocolate hands on soft, creamy white belly and thighs, nudging. Mesmerized, I open my legs to him. Purring as hands glide around silky inner thighs.

Hulking Marine sinks between opened legs, grinning face dipping out of sight. Arching back and gasping again, as thick tongue rims, flicks in, and then invades. Grasping close-cropped kinky black hair, immediate impulse to push away, quickly replaced with desire to hold in closer. Twitching to the dancing of the tongue. Big, thick finger snaking in, thicker than some men's cocks, exploring, searching. Agony in the brief seconds found to center. Writhing as it finds the spot, tweaks, rubs, and quickens the flow. Panting, moaning. Can't . . . get . . . breath. Electricity, sparks, release and flow. Low, hoarse laughter from between trembling legs.

Muscle-bound milk chocolate Marine, with his jet-black monster cock and plump balls, standing between spread legs, his massive chest and arm muscles bulging and undulating, glistening in the strobing of light through the languidly moving blades of the overhead fan. A big grin on his square-cut face, capturing and placing my hands so I feel the awesome length and thickness (and the bulbous, purple-black cap and popped-out blue-on-black veins) of his hardened cock. Fearful fingers getting the measure of the beast, all the more imposing in its blackness against his otherwise milk chocolate, while he tells me quite clearly and graphically—and breathtakingly—what he is going to do with all that manhood and how much pleasure he is going to get out of me and expects me to get out of his cock—to the point of making me tremble in anticipation (and having the added pleasure that, out of all those he could pick to fuck this day, he is here with me).

Going up on my elbows, my legs splayed up and out, my ankles held in his big hands, and watching him first rotate that purple-black cap around and just inside the rim, entirely with the control he has over his hips and his hardened cock—no help with his hands. And then slowly, almost magically, making the pillar of power and strengthen follow its bulbous head and disappear inside me, me arching my back, trying to stretch to accommodate him and involuntarily giving him deep moans and groans of being stuffed. No, no; yes, yes, y-e-s. It's too big; it's the size I've always dreamed of. It's splitting me; it's stretching and filling me to perfection. I can't take this; I can't get enough of this. Yesssssss!

Bringing his mouth down to my nipples as he plows me, sucking and biting me there. My imagining I can feel the veins sliding against my ass walls as the cock journeys in to the quick, and then him standing up from me and repeatedly pulling his glistening jet-black cock out slowly to where I can again see the rim of the purple-black cap, and glide it back in to the root until he loses control and starts pumping me wildly (showing that he is panting for me—at the height of his passion, dipping his mouth to mine and brutalizing my lips with his). His hands grabbing my hips, moving my pelvis with his thrusts. He cries out. Again the flood inside me, oozing out of me, bathing those black balls.

All of that throbbing inside me, hard for me, wanting to be inside me, and filling me repeatedly—followed by my insides being creamed yet again with his semen and him holding for a few minutes, young, virile, powerful, quick loading. and then doing it all again. And my being able to take it, each time more slippery than the last because of the accumulation and mingling of juices—and then turning me on his cock until he is close in behind me, capable of going even deeper inside me, and then fucking me again, holding my wrists with his hands, dominating me. Him shooting off every fifteen minutes or so for what seems like forever—me climaxing repeatedly, encasing that jet-black hunk of licorice and being encased by that milk chocolate rippling network of perfect muscle.