Getting Curious Pt. 02

That night was endless. My head was full of questions without answers : Why did that lady gave me this broken site address card? What was their dynamic? Was the young man the master of the charming old man, or of his wife? Or even of both? Was he her lover? Were they really husband and wife? Or brother and sister? Why did he surrender to him and lick the cum from those long fingers? Was that really cum on those fingers? Whose cum? He didn't look like he enjoyed what he was doing, even if he thanked him at the end.

I felt so confused by what I saw. Why did I attract their attention? Did I put myself in trouble? ... and those black fingers ... they were so dark, so large and so long. Looked like a giant hand in front of the face of this man, a face magnified by those deep wrinkles, undoubtedly the etchings of his experience and the firm line of his character.

I couldn't help but imagine the feeling of those warm strong hand caressing my own face, touching my lips, pressing on them. I knew I'd obediently open my mouth and welcome it inside. ... Is all his body shaped like his fingers? Are all the things we say about black men real? I was tired and horny.

Matt was still asleep, just there, next to me, breathing deep and calm. I was lost in my thoughts and my body needed some care after my silly brain had teased me all night long. It was ten minutes before the morning alarm time. I knew Matt wouldn't mind a bit of attention and I needed a lot from him.

I slid down under the sheets. He was on his side, facing me. We both sleep nude, so I was now just in front of his flaccid cock. Maybe because of the wine of yesterday night, maybe because he had a naughty dream, or maybe because he had a pee just before we went to bed, his musk was very strong, and intoxicating, enough to enforce my wild inner slut. I moved my face closer, humming him, inhaling his musk, feeling his warmth on my cheeks. I moved till I touched his skin. My lips found his heavy beardy balls. I kissed them, few times, and a bit more, just a selfish gluttony. I felt his sleeping snail starting to move on my face. I turned a bit and wrapped my warm lip around the moving thing, capturing it, savoring his flavors, my tongue playing with its foreskin, bathing the head, relishing the moment.

He was now awoken. I heard him moaning.

"humm, does my little slut feel thirsty this morning!?"

I felt his strong hands petting my hairs then slowly taking charge of my head as his cock grew in my warm wet welcoming nest, now fully hard and starting to explore the back of my mouth checking my willingness to swallow more.

Calling me his "little slut" has always awaken in me this hidden primal little naughty bitch, and I needed no more to show him I was willingly his to play with. I swallowed his hard cock delicately and slowly till my nose touched his pubes, just bellow his sculpted abdomens, staying there, controlling my throat muscles to tease him, feeling his moving balls alive on my chin till I needed so much air that I had to move up and breath. Leaving his rock hard cock covered with my throat drool. "You're such a greedy slut! Just come here little bitch!"

His strong hands were now directing me, grabbing me by my neck, by my shoulders and by my hips. He positioned me on the bed, kneeling, forced my head and shoulders in the sheets, ass up and legs spread. I needed this so much, his big cock fucking the slut out of me.

I felt his large cock head touching my pussy entrance, spreading the cunt, playing with the juices, rubbing my raging button while his thumb stated to loosen my little hole. I was waving my ass up, inviting for more attention. I was soaking wet and needed him so much to fill his little cunt.

But just after he removed his thumb, he dove, powerfully forcing himself deep in my ass, in a strong and sudden thrust.

The pain was so abrupt that I stayed there mouth open and breathless, breasts compressed on the sheets, fuzzy eyes, his heavy balls pressing on my pussy labials. Then his hands gripped my hips, and he moved, almost completely out and deep back in, twice, like hammer blows. staying deep inside till I recovered. Then he started to ram deep and fast, his balls dancing and slapping bellow him.

The pain faded, I started to enjoy the fuck, the strengh of his moves, my mind started to stray, thinking about the old man gaze, his luscious eyes when he noticed I was watching him. Every strengful slap of the heavy balls sending strikes of pleasures in all the nerves of my needy pussy. How would feel that old man using me with much more experience and much more care of me and my feelings?

Suddenly, he tensed, and a loud primal rale escaped from his lips, bringing me back in this reality. In the same time I felt warm streams of my man juice filling my ass.

I was almost on the edge, and that bastard just came without me. Again. I felt so frustrated.

He slipped out, leaving me gapping. I could feel his seeds leaking out, down my labials and my thighs.

He stood up, moved around and grabbed my hairs. "time for a cleanup service, you dirty bitch, because of your naughty morning assault I won't have time for a shower!" and he presented me his dirty shrinking snake, just in front of my semi open deep breathing mouth.

Of course I pleaded guilty. my assault was motivated by a craving need for attention. I was sorry for making him late and was always ready to beg for forgiveness, specially when that meant a bit more of his attention. Like every time he fucks me before leaving for work, I submissively moved my mouth closer and started to clean him up. I tried to make him hard again, but in no time he was left, leaving me there, used, dirty, horny and unsatisfied.

I hate when he does that, but this morning, leaving me like that common whore he just used makes me feel even hornier. My fingers found their way between my legs, meeting the leaking mix of juices, spreading them on my pussy labials, rubbing my love button, my mind back on this young black man. With one hand focused on rubbing my pleasure out and sucking the juices from the other, fantasizing about his fingers instead of mines, dreaming of his fingers growing and transforming in tentacles, exploring ... I finally found my little death.

After a warm shower, I comfortably sat in the living room, wrapped in a plaid and drinking my morning green tea with the company of my ipad. The browser was still on that "under construction" page, and just before I closed it I saw it automatically refreshing and starting to load another page. I just had time to read the first words "Good morning Elsa ..." before it closed.

My heart stopped. How could they know my name?

I quickly relaunched the browser to read more...