Love Knows No Color Pt. 03

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bwwm4me
bwwm4me
378 Followers

I can't take this. I need her now. I need to feel her squirm against my tongue. "You have the most beautiful pussy i.ve ever seen." I tell her. She wiggles her hips seductively but doesn't close her legs. She knows where this is going, where it is destined to go.

"Talk like that would get you some," she whispers." If I weren't already going to give it to you." She puts her hands on the back of my head, drawing me in. I feel her leg lift off the tub rim and work itself over my shoulder as I dive in. I run my tongue over her clit. She moans. She tastes like soap but I don't care. She is my queen.

I continue to lick her clit as I work two fingers into her waiting hole. I can feel her grasp them as the pleasure takes over. She is sensually working her hips into my hand and tongue, moaning a soft string of cuss words "Fuck, Shit, damn, shitfuck..." I continue to work my fingers into her, meeting her thrusts aa she gets closer. "Shit Jason don't stop." She wants this. I want her to have it. It feels so right, there in the shower, licking soapy water from her labia as the water cascades over my head.

Her orgasm comes suddenly. She is not holding back. Her hand h=mashed my face into her crotch as she arches her back and lets out a deep growl. Her head is thrown back, her thighs tighten. Her leg on my shoulder draws me in deeper to her. Her walls clench my fingers as she hisses through clenched teeth. I can feel her clit pulse under my tongue as her passion breaks loose. I stop not because we are sated, but because I don't want her to lose her balance and fall in the tub. I hold her, offering what support I can as she rides out her orgasm,

Gasping for breath, legs trembling, she looks down at me. I smile up at her, removing my fingers from her pussy. "Damn boy, you sure do know how to make a girl squirm." We laugh. We are in love.

"I still need to wash your back," I tell her. Her trembling leg comes off my shoulder as she turns around. I grab another handful of soap as I stand. She thrusts her big booty back into me as I lather her back. I work my hands up and down her back and ass, massaging as I go. I quirt some soap in her booty crack where my penis has nestled itself soap lubricates us as I we grind into each other. My hands grab her hips as I pull her back into me. She leans forward as I slide my member up and down her soapy crack, seeking entrance.

"NO, Jason," she stops me. "Not like this. I want to look into your eyes," She turns to face me. Leans backward and pulls me down. We slide down into the tub, with me on top of her, water cascading over us. It is tight but doable once she throws her leg over the tub wall. Her leg has pushed the shower curtain out of the tub, and water is now flowing onto the bathroom floor. We don't care. We are together.

"Make love to me. Jason," she whispers hoarsely, arms around my neck. She kisses me deeply as my manhood finds the entrance it seeks. I push inside her as our tongues entwine. The water pounds my back as I thrust into her writhing pelvis. She is more than ready. She's had her first orgasm, and others will quickly follow. I've made love to her enough times now to know the first one primes her, opens the floodgates to the rest.

It is hard to move in the shower. Knees and hips bang against hard porcelain, there is little room to move. But it is undoubtedly erotic, almost like making love in a rainstorm. A warm steamy rain, not a cold one. We continue thrusting. I am tired from the long day at work, tired from the drive here. The shower has re-energized me, but only temporarily. I can feel the pleasure building in me, and Shavonda is rapidly approaching another orgasm. She senses me holding back.

"It's ok Jason. Let it go. I'm there. You'll take me over." Her voice is reassuring, calming. She moans sexily as her body begins to peak. I am there. Looking deep into her eyes, I let it go. We spasm into each other. I fill her with my seed. I collapse on top of her in exhaustion. She strokes my hair, strokes my back as I lay there. As uncomfortable as it must be, laying there on hard porcelain with my weight on top of her, she is stroking me lovingly. She loves me.

I wished she could have a baby. I want her to have my baby. I want to watch her belly and breasts grow with new life. I want to be there to witness the birth, to watch him or her take her first breath, to hand the baby to Shavonda for the first time. I want to see the look on her face as she sees the life we created for the first time. It can never be. And that's a shame.

We help each other out of the tub, turn the water off, dry each other with towels. She grabs a washcloth and attempts to wipe herself. I stop her. "No," I say. "Let it run down your leg. It turns me on."

I followed her back into the room. We lay on the bed and cuddled in each other's arms. I lay on my back, one arm around her, hand cupping her breast, while I stoked her hair with the other hand. I had my one knee raised off the bed, and she had one leg thrown over me, one leg under mine. I could feel the stickiness of our passion on my leg as she rubbed her crotch into my leg. Without meaning to, we fall asleep, feeling contented and safe.

In the morning, I awake to a soothingly cool breeze. The door to the room is open. I pull on my pants and wander to the door. Shavonda is there, leaning on the balcony rail in a thigh length sun dress, hips cocked to one side as she stares at the view. I am enjoying a different view, and grabbing my Nikon I can't resist snapping a photo of her. She is unaware I have done so.

I snuggle up behind her, feel her push back into me as I wrap my arms around her. "This place is gorgeous," she whispers breathlessly. The pointed mountain looms across the valley, a mile away, keeping watch over the town. "Can you take me to the place with the rocks and the view? The one in the photos you took."

"Dolly Sods?" I ask. "Of course, but it's 7 so we have to get going. We load the cooler and my camera into the Liberty and lock up the room. I take her to the diner for breakfast, and on the way out of town we stop at the grocery store for a couple of steaks and some ice for the cooler. Shavonda pulls me down the spice aisle, where she picks out an assortment of small glass jars.

"We want those to taste right," she says.

We leave town on 220 heading south. About 20 miles later she sees a sign saying welcome to Maryland. Grasping my hand, she says, "For luck." She doesn't know it, but she started a new tradition for me. From now on we will never cross a state line without holding hands.

We wind our way through Cumberland, she is amazed at the narrows just west of town. "I've never seen rocks that big," she exclaims.

We hold hands as we cross the Potomac river into Keyser, WV. "Is this where you're from?" she asks.

"No," I tell her. "I was much further south. We'd need more than a day to go there."

Continuing south, I make a detour and take her through Greenland Gap. She is amazed at the boulder fields on either side of the creek, where chunks of rocks have broken off the cliffs above for eons. She wonders how the pine trees could grow up through the boulders without being crushed.

Leaving the gap, we make our way over back roads. In a valley with powerline towers, I stop the car. I show her the hillside; clusters of prickly pear cacti grow wild out of the loose shale. I grab the bucket from the back and a trowel, and dig up one of the cacti as she watches. "For you," I say as I present her the bucket. "Make sure it gets lots of sun, and don't give it a lot of water."

"Thank you," she says. Tears in her eyes.

We continue over back roads to Petersburg, where we turn west. A giant mountain looms up in front of us like a wall. There is a narrow, cliff lined gap in the mountain which we follow through. "This gorge is 2000 feet deep," I tell her. That mountain in the background is where we are going."

We turn off the main road, and climb on a dirt road, winding our way up to the top. We've climbed 30000 feet, and though the jeep can take it, it has started to overheat a little. We press onward, along the ridgetop, through the heath bogs and flag spruce forests, until we come to a small dirt parking lot.

"We're here," I tell her. We leave the car and I lead her by the hand through the jumble of Pottsville conglomerate and spruce trees, to the edge of the mountain. It is noticeably cooler up here, at 4000 feet above sea level, with a constant breeze. But the day is warm enough that we are not cold. We find patches of snow among the rocks, and soon we have a little snowball battle.

We continue to pick our way over and around the rocks, looking for that one special spot with a completely unobstructed view. I step back to take her picture admiring the world spread out below us, endless mountain ridges receding off into the distance. She bends herself over a rock, elbows leaning on its hard sandy surface. She hikes her dress up, and devilishly drops her panties around her ankles. "Jason, do you want this?" she asks, looking over her shoulder at me. "Come get you some. Be quick about it."

Here we are on a mountaintop, I an area frequented by hikers, photographers and rock climbers, where anybody could walk up on us. She wants me. I can't say no. I come up behind her and drop my pants. She is wet and ready, and I slip inside her with ease. Her hair has kinked back up since the shower last night, and she looks the way she did when I met her just two short weeks ago. I love watching her body move in front of me as she responds to my thrusts. I am here, with my beautiful woman, surrounded by beauty. The experience is overwhelming. It is primal.

We don't try to hold back. This is a quickie. We don't want to be caught, but being caught is part of the thrill. We are breaking many taboos at once, yet it feels so natural. She comes with cries lost to the wind, pushing back into me. I feel her convulsing around my hard penis, but I am not quite there yet. She is trying to milk me of what I am not yet ready to give her. "Ohmygod Jason," she cries. I am tearing her up. I am not gentle. The animal passion is welling up in me, I will possess her. I will tear that pussy up.

My climax comes on me suddenly. I am not expecting it. I can't hold it back because I didn't know it was there. I pound into her from behind, my balls are slapping her pussy lips, I have ahold of her hips so she can't move. I am trying to drive her body into the rock. Brown butt cheeks ripple beneath me with a slap slap as I drive my way deeper inside her. I let loose with an animalistic groan, shooting come inside her with such force I am sure I am going to put a hole in her.

I collapse on top of her as my climax subsides. I am spent. She, and this place, have drained the energy from my body. I am trying to control my breathing, to slow by heartbeat, but I am gasping for air as well.

"Wow," Shavonda gasps. "You about to give a girl a brush burn."

I can only gasp in reply. My legs are weak. I need to sit down. Reluctantly I pull my still rock hard penis from her clutching pussy.

Shavonda looks back at me with those eyes. Staring at me. Staring at my dick. "You're still hard." She says. "Let me take care of it."

She helps me lean against the rock, then drops to her knees in front of me. "it's been a while since I tasted the swirl," she says tenderly. I lean there against the rock as she cleans me with her mouth. I know I am not going to come again. She knows it too, but she keeps on sucking anyway. I am enjoying this. So is she.

I hear voices, and spot a flash of bright blue through the trees. "Von!" I say, "Somebody's coming!" Quickly I pull up my pants as she flips her dress down. She had stepped out of her panties during our escapade and there is no time to put them on. She quickly grabs them off the ground and hands them to me. I ball them in my fist. I am lucky, nobody will be able to see them in my hand. Grabbing me by my other hand, she starts to lead me back to the car, my seed running down her thigh. An older white couple emerges from the trees. We exchange greetings as we pass each other.

Back at the car, Shavonda laughs hysterically. "You wonder if they saw noticed my leg?" she was out of breath now. "Jason, that was amazing! This place is amazing! Is this what you meant when you said it had to be experienced in person?"

"Sorta kinda," I replied. "But I never had sex here. You added a whole new dimension to this place."

The day was early, so we decided to push further south. I told her about the volcano I had heard about in geology class. There was an extinct volcanic cone just south of Monterrey, Va. It is probably the only one in the east. I had never seen it. She was game so we headed toward Virginia. We descended the mountain, me driving in low gear like the truck driver I am. At the main road, we turned right, and headed south. Shavonda was enthralled with Seneca Rocks, so we pulled over. I took her picture with the jagged rocks towering 800 feet in the background. "They're beautiful." She said. "This whole area is beautiful."

We turned east on 33, climbed North Fork Mountain through Germany Valley, and descended to Franklin, where we continued south on 220. Soon we were at the Virginia line, and we clasped hands again. We headed through Monterrey, where she marveled at the buildings. They looked like the set of a movie about the deep south. In a few minutes, I spotted the volcano, Trimble Knob. It sat off in a farmer's field, a small round hill about 200 feet high. It stood out in an area dominated by long mountain ridges oriented north-south like corduroy. We snapped a few photos there, of each other and the cone in the background, then I turned the car around.

"Do you think we could get some pictures of the town," Shavonda asked.

"I don't see why not," I replied. We turned the Jeep around, and headed for the town. Parking the car, we walked around the small downtown taking photos like any normal sightseeing couple. We got a few stares, including one from a passing cop, but I thought nothing of it.

Back in the car, we headed back north on 220. The cop was behind us, but not following closely. We were within sight of the welcome to West Virginia sign when he put on his lights and pulled us over. I stopped the car in a pull off about 100 yards from the border. He asked for both of our id's plus the insurance and registration for the car, we weren't speeding, so I was curious and a little pissed as to why he'd pulled us over. I noticed Shavonda was quiet, she seemed afraid of something.

He walked back up to my window, handed me back the documents, "You wouldn't happen to be running drugs through here would you?" he asked.

"Of course not," I replied. "We were just sightseeing." Shavonda slouched down in her seat.

Looking at my windshield he said, "Is that cocaine?" I looked. He was pointing at a salt packet that had somehow wedged itself between the windshield and dashboard. Shavonda was visibly shaking now.

"No, that's table salt," I calmly replied. WE hadn't done anything wrong. I had nothing to fear.

"Do you have something you could use to get that out?" he asked.

"I have a screwdriver under the seat," I said. I was now starting to get worried too.

"Can you get it out for me?" the cop asked. With his watching me, hands at his side, I reached under the seat and pulled out the screwdriver. I quickly used it to remove the salt packet, and handed it to the officer. He ripped it open and tasted it, then threw it on the ground. "Yup, that's salt all right."

I said, "I told you so." Shavonda hissed something at me through clenched teeth.

"Would you mind if I took a look inside your car?" the cop asked. Shavonda looked like she was about to cry.

"Be my guest," I said, and immediately regretted it. What if he plants something on us?

He rummaged around in the back for a few minutes, he also looked in the cooler and my camera bag. Satisfied, he told me, "Y'all are free to go now. Have a nice day." Shavonda breathed a visible sigh of relief.

"Just a second, sir." I said. Shavonda stiffened in her seat." Can I give you a little advice?"

The cop turned to me. "Sure, he said."

I continued. "As you can see we are not drug dealers. But if we were, when I reached under the seat there would have been a gun there, and one or both of us would be dead now." The cop stiffened, his face turned white. "Next time you stop a car, don't let them reach under the seat. And keep your hand on your gun when you talk to people. I may have just saved your life."

The cop turned away red faced and walked back to his car. Shavonda looked at me and said, "Welcome to my world."

We started north again, holding hands over the border. I was pissed. "He had no right to do that!" I exclaimed.

"Jason don't you get it?" Shavonda was almost in tears. "They don't like me. They don't even know me and they don't like me. To them I am a dumb nigger bitch. They don't care to find out differently. You're with me so they don't like you either. You're a nigger lover. They don't like US. We're not supposed to be together. You see a couple out for a drive. They see drug dealers. You grew up around this. You can't say you didn't know."

She continued, " I envy you. You can drop me off and go back to your normal life any time you want. This could happen to me anytime, anywhere. This guy didn't plant anything on us. But that doesn't mean the next one won't."

I was still pissed, and said so. "Look, Jason, don't let it get to you. It will eat you up if you dwell on it. Just be aware that it exists and we'll be ok." Shavonda was doing her best to calm me down. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Why were they that afraid of my queen?

We pulled into a park right outside of Petersburg, and cooked our steaks. The seasonings Shavonda bought made them extra delicious. My queen is teaching me things. She's made my life so much better in just the short time I've known her.

Later that evening, back in Bedford, we went to see a movie. We shared a drink and popcorn drenched in butter. I don't remember the movie. I was too busy making out with Shavonda.

Back at the motel, we made slow, sweet love to Angie Stone. After the day we'd just had, there was no desire for intense feelings. We just needed to hold each other. We comforted each other. I reassured her that I was not going to step out on her and go back to white ladies. I was in love. If other people didn't like her, that was their problem. I did, and I was going to be with her through thick or thin. The cop in Virginia, and the things Shavonda had said had hardened my resolve. Nobody was going to take my queen from me.

I had plans to take her to Horseshoe Curve the next day. I put those plans on hold so we could stay back in our motel room, decompressing, holding each other, comforting each other, making slow sensual love. It had turned into a lazy weekend.

Memorial Day, we got up early, packed the car, and started back to Pittsburgh. We stopped on the way for breakfast at a diner. The steak and eggs was excellent. We headed west on 30, retracing our route Friday night in reverse, so that Shavonda could see it in daylight. On the way, we made a quick stop at the Flight 93 memorial, paying homage to the heroes that had prevented a plane from crashing into the US Capitol by running it into the ground in the mountains of southern Pennsylvania.

We went straight to the cookout without unloading the car or changing clothes. I was wearing jeans and a tee shirt with a 12-point buck on it. Probably not the best choice, with my drawl and that shirt I had to come off as a redneck. I wasn't. Shavonda wore another of her sundresses. She seemed to prefer dresses to shorts and tee shirt. She also wore the ever-present sandals I've come to think of when I picture her.

bwwm4me
bwwm4me
378 Followers