tagInterracial LoveLonely Craving

Lonely Craving


He had been talking to me in that deep dusky voice over the phone again and he had immediately recognised my horny breathing and the sexy tones implying and underlying..

I saw it was Q on my caller ID.. and then.. I don't know how long it lasted... he turned me into a quivering mass of orgasmic jelly.

Then I phoned my Daddy, still panting and whimpering and craving. And begging to go fuck Q.. but Daddy didn't give in.

Not having had any sex, except toys and fingers, stories and video clips for two months I was weak.

There are only two men who can do this to me: Q and my Master Daddy... and Daddy was not at home.

Q, my black lover.. he used to be.. and was a year or so ago before I fell in love with Daddy.. well, Q phoned, he found me alone at the right time and was now driving me over the top reminding me about the times we had fucked, the last one, mainly, when Daddy had given me to him as a present. Or given him to me.

He knows how to control my lust, play with it, change his voice and say just the right things that trick me-- 'sweet, respectable lill' ole me', into saying just what he wants to hear. He knows my lust because I am incapable of hiding it. I am just starting to realize this.

He somehow knows what I crave.

I know I couldn't go near him without wanting to fuck him. It must be what they call Animal Magnetism.

He told me he was going to fuck me.. possibly he said, "make love to you" at the company picnic he invited me to whilst I was buying the house.. and he did: took me to a motel, we got naked and fucked and I loved it and he knew it and he loved it. He took me. He fucked my brains out.

I hadn't been *really* fucked in years, in fact I had almost forgotten what it was like but recently I had started to lust after sex and, in fact, listen to this.. almost got a preacher I was falling in love with to fuck me.. but he held back, and regretted it, I think. He was married but... hey, so was I!

Q reamed me and I screamed into orgasms. He knew how to fuck me and he loved fucking me. I was in heaven, I love fucking but he knew how to use me and I discovered I enjoyed being used by a man. A dominant male. I was entering new areas of sexuality that my Daddy helped me understand later.

I must've been giving Q so much sexy body language. Things that I was unaware of, that is, before he told me he was going to make love to me. He was so sure of where he was going. He really knew that we were going to fuck so good. I must have been giving off solid green!

He had sold me my mobile home after I'd left my husband and I had dealt with him a number of times. Now I think about it, there were a lot of extra visits to his office - all sorts of little problems that I didn't mind having to deal with and we would talk about all sorts of things, too. How little I must have known myself but I didn't realize I was lusting after this soft-spoken black man who had already seen the little white slut through the respectable lady I generally play.

After that first incident he would phone me or I would phone him when I was horny and we would meet up in motels as much as we could and just fuck.

It was more than half a dozen fuck-tels over the year or so before I met Daddy. Not sure when the last time was Q and I fucked before I fell in love with Daddy. Perhaps I do but I didn't tell Daddy. I try to tell him everything but it isn't easy as he wants to know so much and I can't always supply the details. I am still not sure. I'd like him to be there so he can see for him self... and hear. I would feel better, more trusting, more sure of myself. He says he wants to watch but I really wonder if he does.

On the phone Q was begging me to meet him and to fuck, reminding me of how I loved feeling his big black cock driving into me, how I had sucked on it and if he had known how hot and "aggressive" I was going to have been he would have been better prepared.

I kept wondering what he had in mind... toys, bondage or bringing a big black friend or two along...?

When I answered the phone I had been reading stories on Literotica and had my silver humming friend resting at the lips of my pussy, pressed against the clit... not exactly resting as he was buzzing away very busily!

His timing was perfect. I saw the caller number, lay on the bed and prepared myself.

Q can read the tone of my voice and I am sure he could hear instantly from my soft, "Hello?" that I hadn't been playing FreeCell on my computer:) He didn't waste much time in friendly banter, as he can do sometimes, but asked how his 'two friends' were and said how he'd love to rub 'em and suck 'em again. Then he tells me to rub them and I can't stop myself and I start to whimper. He reminds me of how good his dick felt in my pussy. I am moaning. He has me rubbing my tits, my cunt and I'm cumming and cumming and my body wants to go to fuck him but my Daddy has to allow me to do that so I phone him and he could hear how horny I was, with orgasms still rippling through me. He wanked as I told him how Q had begged me to go but he didn't tell me to go even though he knew I wanted to and I tried to tempt him by telling him he could listen over the phone as I screamed as I was fucked knowing how he would love that... all of that said breathless and whimpering.

But at the same time I didn't want him to tell me to go.

And he didn't.

I love my Daddy; I want his cock, want his body and arms because he makes me feel all right, his words and voice. I love his trust in me and the freedom he gives me. I love what a pervert he is, how he so enjoys cumming in my mouth. I love how he makes me laugh, makes me feel good. I love pleasing him.

Q loves pounding into me with that big black dick and then shooting his load on my belly or on my ass and I now love to rub spunk into my skin and then suck it all off my fingers. I did that the last time he fucked me so he'd get the idea I wasn't averse to the taste of spunk and perhaps that I wanted him to cum in my mouth, as he was holding my head, face fucking me and I was obviously cumming as I slurped all over his in-my-face dick.

But he didn't.

He loves fucking me, making me come, making me beg for it, leaving me wanting more.

That last time... I was on my knees... within minutes of him walking into the room and closing the door... on my knees between his legs with his hard black cock in my mouth, rubbing it, squeezing his balls and hoping he would pump wads of his cum onto my tongue but he wanted to fuck me, so he took me, his docile sex-doll and laid me on my back on the bed, teasing my cunt with the head of his erection. I was trembling and shaking all over, needing to feel his cock inside of me. I couldn't stop myself from pushing my cunt at him but he told me to slow down, " We've lotsa time Princess..."

And then he slid it into my soaking hole.

I had been cumming for the last five minutes since I'd opened the door for him and I threw my arms around him and started humping him as he kissed my neck, took off my outfit, held my butt, as I was searching for his naked hot black meat and I was moaning and cumming at this culmination of cerebral paroxysm.

'Fuck me...!" I mono-moaned repetively.

This cock I had been fantasising over, remembering, masturbating to, over the past few days was fucking me. I wrapped my whole body around this black fuck-lover, who was servicing me, engulfed him with my cunt, my tits, my arms, my legs, my mouth.. lips.. tongue.. teeth, my hands, my fingers, my feet, my nails, my wrists, my ankles..

There are times I crave sex badly, almost ashamed to admit it to my husband. This had been one of those bad cravings.. and what was so fantastic was that the craving and the sexing of the craving were simultaneous, feeding off each other.

All this Q evoked in the phone call, begging me to join him as I came and came, listening to his voice, rubbing my body, craving his cock.. to fuck and to suck, to be fucked, to know I would cum and cum even more than the last time.

So I phoned Daddy, my husband, and whimpered the phone call to him.

But he didn't tell me to go and fuck Q as I was urging him to, not so much with my words but with the craving in my voice.

His power over me intoxicates me at times. I am addicted to him and what he is turning me into. And I wonder what limits we will push with our cravings.

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