Girlfriend Experience

I realized the silence had stretched on awkwardly long. Especially considering how she had me entwined, ready to fuck me. Take my virginity. Except she had gone soft, from talking.

Though the hugging we were doing was nice.

Really nice.

Fuck. I should say something.

"OK. I promise. I won't cheat on you."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Me either."

"Good talk."

"Want to try some hot role playing?" She resumed grinding against me. Getting stiffer again.

"Whatchu thinking?"

"We can role play we got engaged. And that made it OK for me to take your virginity. Cause that's what a girlfriend does for her man then."

"OK."

"Say it. And then don't ever break character." She was rubbing her clit between my cheeks, erect again. Sliding it against my hole. "Starting... now!"

And I found myself responding, pushing back against her thrusting and probing. Getting hard despite the massive amount of sex she'd thrown at me in a very short time. Turned on by this hot role playing. "You want to get engaged? Be my future wife?"

"Oh, god, yes baby. Do you want to be my future husband?" She was pressing her clit against my hole as I pushed back, aching to get fucked. To get taken by this wonderful sexy woman.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I want to be engaged to you."

"I'm gonna fuck you now, baby. I'm gonna fuck my future husband."

"Fuck me --"

She shut me up by jamming her clit thru my hole.

"Aaaah!"

"Yes, baby. Oh, you're so fucking tight. Are you really a virgin?" She started thrusting inside my ass.

"Not. Any. More!"

Her three inch long clit was short enough and narrow enough that it didn't hurt much as she penetrated. It felt uncomfortably full, but in a good way.

"How do you like my clit, baby?"

"Feels good," I grunted. "Not too big."

She fucked faster. "Size. Is. Over. Rated. For. Anal." She panted out each word, one per thrust. "I'm almost ready to cum."

"You can cum in me baby. Since you'll be my wife."

"Say 'my wife' again."

"My wife."

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum in my fiancee!"

"Cum in me baby."

She let go of my hands, grabbed my hips, roughly fucking me. Smashing me against the wall with each thrust, uncomfortably hard. I put my hands against the wall, buffering the pumping of her hips ramming her clit inside my tight aching hole.

"I'm cumming!"

"Gimme your cum!"

She came, moaning and thrashing, making this wonderfully animal growling as she pumped her seed into me, giving me part of her body, leaving a small piece of her inside me to keep. And in that moment, I knew what it was like to be a woman getting taken by her man, wanting his lust.

She pinned me against the wall, spent. Gasping for air, like she'd been sprinting. I let her lean against me, her hot sweat slicked skin pressed against mine.

She turned me around. Wrapped her arms around my neck. Kissed me as I wrapped my arms and legs around her. Squeezing her big sexy African ass, loving the softness over the hard muscles underneath. Holding my baby tight, squeezing her, not wanting this moment to end. "You're so gotdamn sexy."

"I'll be the best fiancee ever for you," she whispered in my ear. "Give you everything you need."

I felt some of her cum trickling out of my ass, sliding down my leg. It felt good to know she was still inside me. It felt good to hold her, and kiss her. To be with her, sharing the aftermath of the beautiful moment she had captured in the painting beside us. Glimpsing a possible future in her studio and recording it for me to see and remember forever, then making that lovely moment happen. Giving me that remembrance.

"Let's go shower, then make breakfast," Cheri said. She pulled her panties back up, took my hand, led me around the corner into the shower off the master bedroom. It was a generously sized shower, glass enclosed from the waist up with a built in bench seat and a high flow waterfall showerhead.

I closed the double doors leading into the bathroom, to hold in the steam and heat, and got the water hot. Cheri stepped in, her lacy panties still on.

I joined her. "You normally shower with panties?"

"Nah, but I'm guessing the sight of my clit might be a bit too much for you." She pumped a lot of shower gel into her hand. "I'm considerate like that. Cause you're my husband and stuff. Turn around, and I'll give you a back rub."

"You're promoting me to husband?"

"On a probationary basis. Try not to fuck that up."

I turned, leaned against the glass with my hands.

"So you're my probie wife, then?"

"I don't need a probationary period. I'm already fucking awesome. You're the sketchy one, needs a lot of hands on supervision. Speaking of..."

Cheri soaped up my back, massaging for a while and then lightly scratching my back and my flat belly with her short polished red nails, sending shivers up my spine. "Like that, hunh?"

"Mmm-hmm."

She soaped up my arms, expertly rubbed my palms, then took my fingers one by one in her fist, pulling and twisting as her slick hand slipped off.

"Fuuuck," I said.

"Mr. Articulate," she teased, finishing the first hand by doing my thumb.

"That's Mr. Articulate, SIR! to you."

"Oooohh, look who's acting all manly -- the guy with my cum dripping from his ass." She did my second hand, as I tried to come back with a snappy retort.

"Trying to come up with a churlish reply?"

"I got nuffin'."

She briefly stroked my cock, evaluating. "Well, more like six, seven inches."

Having riled me up a bit sexually, she shampooed my hair, rubbing my scalp, forehead, and behind my ears as I closed my eyes and moaned. "Rinse."

I stepped away from the wall and leaned my head back under the six inch square set of needles of hot water pouring out of the showerhead, letting it wash away the suds and pound my forehead and throat.

Cheri moved in front of me and soaped and massaged my neck and shoulders, then tickled under my armpits with her nails. She continued down my torso, teasing me by stopping just shy of my pubic hair, detouring around my semi-stiff cock.

She briskly rubbed soap into the valley of my buttocks, washing off the cum and lube. Then she crouched down, placed her hands on either side of my left upper thigh and slowly kneaded downward, the back of her wrist brushing my balls.

Which put her face close to my partially engorged cock, still arguably in commission despite all the festivities that had been lavished on it in the last 18 hours or so since I'd met Cheri.

I moaned as her hands traveled down my lower thigh, and put my hand on the back of her neck and tried pushing it forward.

She reached up and gently slapped my wrist. "Hey, I'm busy here." Gave my cockhead a brief apologetic kiss on the tip, making my prick twitch appreciatively.

I took my hand off. "What, you can't multitask?"

"You literally can't do both well. Not how brains are wired." She was now doing my kneecap while rubbing her thumbs into the back of my knee.

"Bullshit."

"Try it. Twist one hand in a rotating horizontal motion, while the other hand simultaneously moves up and down vertically."

I confidently tried it. Failed.

"Confident but wrong, sir," she said, deadpan. "Not a good look. Once you accept that I'm smarter than you, it'll go so much smoother." Cheri glanced up, checking that I wasn't taking that the wrong way.

I shrugged. "I... keep for-get-ting... I... am... not... smart... like... you...George," I said in the cartoon slow and stupid voice of Lennie from 'Of Mice and Men.' "I... nudged... him... and... I... nudged... him... but... he... still... wou-dint... move."

Her eyes briefly went wide as she smothered a laugh, then she started rubbing my calf muscles.

Guess she's never heard that voice before, I thought. Gonna have to keep using it on her at random intervals. Oh, wait. Implies we have an ongoing relationship. Well, that and the whole role playing we're married thing.

She lifted my leg up. And rubbed the sole of my foot with her thumbs.

"Fuuuck. Oh. Wow."

She grinned at me, her eyes giving me a 'This Is What Being Married To Me Feels Like, You Lucky Bastard' look.

Or perhaps I'm reading too much into her facial expressions, I thought. What with not being smart and stuff.

"Again with the articulate thing."

I deployed the slow stupid Lennie voice again. "Was that your 'This Is What Be-ing Mar-ried To Me Feels Like, You Luc-ky Bas-tard' look"?

"Oooh. Got it in one." She twisted her hands around my ankle and rubbed the top of my foot, then did the finger twisty pull-y thing again, but with my toes.

I closed my eyes. Exhaled slowly, appreciatively.

Cheri put my foot down, started the sequence all over again with my other leg.

I put my hands into the tangle of curls on her head, pulling it into the stream of water. I rubbed her scalp, enjoying the curly kinky feel of her black hair, softened by the slickness of the water.

She looked up at me. "Just so you know... if you weren't my husband and whatnot, messing up my hair like that and then getting kilt dead -- that would be considered an act of justifiable homicide with any jury with an appreciable number of Black women serving on the jury."

"I love it when you talk all smart to me. Kinda kinky."

"Bet'cher ass."

When she finished with the other leg, she stood up, then bent over and wrapped her lips around my cockhead, her tongue slowly licking the sensitive underside.

I reached over and started kneading her medium brown buttocks, lighter than the parts of her skin exposed to the sun. Her ass felt so squeezably softly padded, with big hard muscles underneath, the kind of booty that put the lie to the notion that only skinny ass white girls could ever be considered sexy.

My prick got hard, but for several blissful minutes it felt like my refractory period was still gonna prevent me from cumming.

"I don't think I can cum just yet."

Cheri flashed me a knowing, wicked look, deepthroated my shaft, squeezed my balls with one hand, and rubbed circles around the rim of my arsehole, until I began moaning and bucking my hips at her.

"I'm getting close, baby."

She took her mouth off my shaft, and then took my balls in her mouth -- then hummed while rubbing and squeezing and twisting her hand around my cockhead and upper shaft. "Cum on my face, baby!"

That combo did it. I stroked her chin with one hand, began kneading her ass with the other. Which meant I wound up sort of kneading her chin, too, because of the No Separate Motions Rule. "Here it cums. You ready to take your husband's sticky jism on your face?"

She got on her knees, looked up with a submissive look on her face while opening her mouth to receive my cum. Both of her hands worked my cock into a frenzy. "Shoot your load on me. I want to feel my husband's hot sperm on my face!"

I shot my load, not much cum left this time, but a nice bump of an orgasm, slow and lingering rather than the first frantic time I'd come last night. A wide hill rather than a jagged mountain peak. The first spurt of cum splashed on her nose and forehead and barely into her hair, the second smaller spurt into her mouth.

She quickly wrapped her lips around the head, swallowing the second spurt, teasing my cockhead, milking it, getting one last pulse to swallow, her beautiful eyes locked on mine the whole time. She scooped the cum off her face with her fingers, then licked them clean.

Then she stood up and kissed me with her cum coated lips and mouth. "Nice appetizer. Now let's get some breakfast."

***

Dried off and dressed in two of my bathrobes, mine black with a faint checkerboard on grey lines, hers fluffy and what I thought was a light Hunter Green.

"It's closer to Hooker's Green," she said.

I opened my mouth to say something witty. Paused. Thought better of it, closed my mouth.

She put a finger on my lips. "Don't fucking go there. That's a real color."

I put my hands up, palms outward, in the universal sign for hey, unarmed, not a threat. Hastily changed the subject. "How about I get the bacon and eggs, and you hang the picture? Let me know when you need a hand there."

"Sure."

"Oh, need a short ladder. Like two or three steps."

I fetched the ladder out of the laundry room, then plugged in the cooker with the jollof rice, got it warming. I got the bacon browning at medium heat, stealing glances now and then to watch Cheri at work.

She gracefully and rapidly got the wire for hanging strung on the back side of the canvas in portrait mode, stuck a velvet pad on each of the bottom corners.

Then Cheri took out a tape measure and a pencil, measured the width of the wall, put a tiny pencil dot at what I assumed was the midpoint. Measured how far the wire hung below the top of the canvas.

"OK," she said. "Need you for this part."

I turned the heat on the bacon down to low, came over.

"Hold the picture up at the height you want it."

I complied.

She stepped back to check it out. "Up two inches. Now hold it." She came over and measured the distance from the floor to the bottom of the canvas. "Done. You can go back to cooking."

I went and took the bacon out of the pan, broke in some eggs.

Cheri had her back to me, punching in numbers on the calculator for her phone. "Over medium for me," she said, in answer to my unspoken question.

While the eggs cooked, I set the table. Cheri rapidly did stuff with the measuring tape, made two tiny pencil dots up high.

By the time I had set the table and put the eggs on two plates, she had hammered in two sturdy looking hooks into the wall, and was on a ladder, getting the painting hung on the left hook.

I wandered over to lend a hand.

But before I got there she somehow hopped off the ladder while still holding the painting up, whisked the ladder to the right, climbed up two steps, reached up, and suddenly the painting was hung.

I raised my eyebrows. "Wow. Fast."

"Not my first rodeo, hanging paintings." Tilted the picture to the left a bit, getting it level. "Done."

"Wow, the painting looks stunning there."

"Now you REALLY can't bring sluts home to fuck. What with the awkward questions that would arise about why you have a painting of me fucking you, hanging there." She paused. Checked out the look on my face.

I mildly said, "Do I look like a gotdamn fool? Someone who would throw away our... our..."

"Relationship," she said. "Not that hard to pronounce. And no, in at least this narrowly defined field of endeavor -- not cheating on me, etc. -- you're kind of an endearing idiot savant."

"I... I'll take the compliment. And like it!"

"Breakfast ready? Smells great!"

"Can you stir the bacon fat into the jollof rice and dish it and the bacon onto the plates, while I pour some orange juice?"

"Sir, yes sir!" She threw me a mocking salute. "Paddle?"

"Yeah, you deserve a paddling for that smartass-ery."

"You wish, Pervert Boy," she said, affectionately. "Actually... later?"

"Good talk." I handed her a rice paddle.

She dished it up, and we sat and devoured all the foods.

***

After we cleaned up from breakfast, I said, "Ready for the grand tour?"

"Sure."

I took her hand and walked toward the front door, the ceiling overhead twenty four feet up. I opened glass inset double doors to the home office, left of the front door, which was a single story height, twelve foot ceilings.

Cheri looked around. "Nice desk. Hmm... prints for art work? Fucking PRINTS?" She did a fake shudder of horror. "Were you broke when you bought them?"

"Uh, yeah, Ms. Art Snob," I said, teasing. "I was broke at the time. But, I recently found a... moderately... talented artist who hopefully will help me upgrade that. Hmm, what was her name again? Dammit. Can't remember."

"It'll cum to you eventually," she said, deadpan. "Good and hard."

"Hmm. On the other side of the entrance - the front room." Expensive brown leather chair and ottoman, nice Edison lighting overhead. No decoration.

"You need to fire your interior decorator."

"That would be me."

"Place needs a woman's touch."

"Sure does. Problem is, there's this wildly off-putting painting in the living room that would send any potential date storming out the door."

"Or... you know... you get a wife."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to acquire one of those. Hard to find one that isn't a pain in the arse, though."

"I kinda got the impression you LIKED something hard that causes a pain in the arse."

I rolled my eyes. "You do something just ONE time..."

I pointed to the right into the hallway just past the office, flicking on a fancy overhead light fixture. "Guest bedroom with en suite bathroom."

Cheri walked to the bedroom, peeked inside.

"Is it REALLY a bedroom if there's no bed? Or furniture?"

"Hell of a zen koan. But, it does have furnishings."

"Where?" she said, looking at the blank walls and unobstructed carpet.

"Toilet paper, a hand towel, and a bar of soap in the bathroom. I'm not a barbarian."

"A BAR of soap?" she said with faux outrage. "No liquid soap dispenser? Beg to differ on the barbarian thing."

"I'm a guy. Grade on a curve, dammit. At least it's clean."

I turned around, led her to the curving stairway to the second floor. More wooden flooring and high end hand rails. "You've seen the rest of the bottom floor, so..."

We walked upstairs. At the top of the stairs, I pointed into the bedroom there. "Another... minimalist... bedroom with en suite."

Cheri raised her eyebrows. "Still not a BED room. The fuck?"

"Been busy the last month. No time to buy furnishings."

"Furnishings implies, you know -- furniture. Right there in the name."

I shrugged. Took Cheri down a balcony overlooking the living room and the freshly hung buttfucking painting. Pointed to the right. "Two empty Jack N Jill bedrooms."

Cheri rolled her eyes. "Did you buy a two story house, and leave the entire second floor empty?"

"Let's not ruin the surprise." Took her hand again, started walking rapidly. I opened the double doors at the end of the balcony. "Media room. WITH media. And stuff."

"Finally. A... mostly... equipped room.. Oooh, nice touch with the couch."

The couch was two wide corner pieces - one side dark charcoal grey, the other side a light cream. Black and white, if you must. Leather ottoman. Huge flat screen TV, overhead speakers. Framed movie posters on the wall - 'Fast Color' and 'First Love'.

Cheri gave me an appraising look. "Are you hinting, with the black and white couch, your preferences for the appearance of a future wife?"

"Pretty sure it's charcoal grey and cream. Thought you were a painter, knew colors?"

"Thought you knew what a metaphor was." She waited for me to answer the W-word... wife... question.

"I feel dark skin is really sexy. Wasn't consciously playing a deep game when I got the Hundred and One Dalmations couch combo. Just thought it looked cool. And you seem to have skipped over the metaphor of the plush, well padded pillows."

"Are you calling me -"

I interrupted hastily, realizing my faux pas, before she could utter the F-word. Fat. Sooo much potential danger packed into three small letters. "I was referring to your amazing booty, ma'am. Makes me want to just bury my face in their lush ripeness and nibble and bite those cheeks."

Her eyes narrowed, amused. "You want me to put your face between my buttocks and have you do things with your mouth in there. Copy that."

"Wait, what?"

"Oooh, we're gonna have so much fun."

I put my hands around her waist and slipped my hand into her back pocket, squeezing her butt. Hung a left at the media room, steered Cheri into the last room, which had no door, but an array of six huge windows from floor to ceiling with bright sunlight pouring into the empty room.

"Love the light," Cheri said.