The Super-Duper Ch. 02byMimiRose©
As soon as Somalia had opened her almond-shaped brown eyes, she instantly regretted doing so. There were lashes of blinding, sharp pain stabbing at her retinas and the top of her head. She groaned and felt the pain become worse.
'It even hurts when I groan...shit,' she thought as she lay in her bed with her eyes closed.
She slowly rolled onto her back and heard her stomach grumble. "Sorry," her voice croaked. She had lain on her back for a few minutes before she felt the tell-tale signs that she needed to vomit. She gingerly slipped out of the warm and comfortable bed to go the adjoining bathroom, to spew out the contents of her stomach. Afterwards, she decided to rest on the bathroom's floor, next to the toilet.
The feeling of being suspended in the air was what woke Somalia up from her sleep. She started to struggle and stopped, when she heard "Stop moving. I am just carrying you back to your bed." The voice sounded familiar to Somalia. She couldn't see the person's face, due to the fact that her eyes were closed. Her head was hurting too much and she didn't want to do anything else to agitate it even more. She thought about the voice. It was too masculine and too deep for it to belong to Gumby. Plus, Gumby, despite being a curvy woman, was too petite of a woman to be carrying Somalia's body. This person had to be a stranger. So, she resumed struggling again.
"Big Roe," said the voice and she stopped.
'Who is he? I know him, I know that for sure.'
Suddenly, memories of what happened on the night before ran through her mind. There were memories of the tour, the restaurant, meeting up with a few members of The Crew, seeing Tristan again, going to the club, drinking like a fish and then the memory of waking this morning.
"Tristan?" she groaned, her throat feeling raw and sore, as if she swallowed a bundle of Brillo pads.
"Yes?" she heard him say, softly. Then she felt the softness of her bed and the warmth that were running off of his arms disappearing.
"What are you doing here?" she found herself saying.
There was no answer from him, so she repeated her question. Again, she was met silence, so she opened her eyes, reluctantly. There was no pain. In fact, her headache was gone but she felt a bit queasy in her stomach. She found herself lying in her bed, in her bedroom of the rented out hotel suite. She sat up and took note that she was still wearing the dress that she wore last night. She was barefoot and her hair was everywhere, so she knew that she had a serious case of 'bed-head'. She was alone. Her bedroom's door was opened. She peered out of the room, past the living room and into Gumby's room. From what she could see, Gumby wasn't in there.
'Where in the hell did she go off to?'
"Oh, God, I am never drinking again," she declared as she leaned against the mounds of pillows that were positioned behind her. She slipped her long, bronze-colored shapely legs from underneath the sable-lined comforter. "I don't know how those college kids do it," she said to herself. She ran her fingers through her long, thick hair. "God, what time is it?"
"It's 4:15" she heard being said.
It had come from the left of her. She glanced over, to where the bathroom's entrance, to find a half-naked man with a towel wrapped around his lower body. It wasn't just any man. It was Tristan; the person who's partly responsible for her drinking on the night before.
"Oh goodness" she groaned as she closed her eyes as she rested her head against the headboard.
"Well, good afternoon to you too," he said. He walked to the front of the bed and stood there. "How are you feeling?" he asked her.
"Like I was beaten with a sack of nickels," she stated, in a groan.
Tristan chuckled at her colorful description. "That's very funny."
"Glad to know that I can amuse you," she groaned, before staring at him. "Where's Gumby?"
"Who?" he asked her.
"She's my sister-in-law. She is the Asian chick that I was with last night. You can't forget her. There aren't too many big-booty, loud Asian women running around here."
"Oh, she had gone out to get you some stuff that she thought that would make you feel better. Also, I asked her to get a few things for me, so she might be out for a while," Tristan informed her. "Do you want me to get you anything?"
"A glass of water would be nice," she croaked out.
"You got it, Roe" he said to her.
Then, he went to fetch a glass of water. He returned a few minutes later with a glass of cold water. He gave her a glass of water and she downed the contents in one drink.
"Thanks," she said, with her voice now clearer than before. She placed the glass on the nightstand that was to the right side of her bed.
"You're welcome," he said to her.
"Now tell me..." Her dark brown eyes focused on the towering, semi-wet man that stood at the foot of her king-sized bed. "...what in the fuck are you doing in my room?" There was an edge to her voice and she was sure that he could feel the anger rising off of her body.
Her question reminded Tristan of that unusual but wonderful night, when Big Rhonda and he had hooked up. Mainly, it reminded him of the moment when she asked him about his reasoning of being in her bedroom. During that time and the one that was occurring now, she had this particular look in her eyes. It said to him, "I don't have time to listen to your bullshit; answer me or I will kick your ass".
"You were not feeling good and I helped you to get back to the hotel."
"Ok" she said to him, rather calmly. "So why are you still here?"
"I didn't want to leave you alone." The expression on her face told him that she didn't believe him. He had gone on to further explain. "I would've felt guilty if I just left, Rhonda—
"Somalia" she snapped at him.
"My name is Somalia. Learn how to use it, from now on," she corrected him.
"Sorry" he apologized, a simple word that was full with humility.
"Should I expect to have photos of my ass hanging out, posted somewhere on Facebook? Or perhaps I will see photos of you and your dumb ass friends on a MySpace page?"
"What? Why would I do something like that?" he asked her, feeling a combo of bewildered and offended.
"Cause from my personal experience with dealing with you and the rest of those losers that you call 'friends', I should expect for you guys to do something like that," she informed him.
He could hear the hurtful feelings that she possessed in her voice. 'Shit, but, this convo was bound to happen,' he thought. He wasn't expecting to have this confrontation so soon in their vacation, but he knew that it needed to happen, in order for Somalia to accept him.
"I would never do something like that to you," he said with a serious sense of tone.
She scoffed, in disbelief and disgust, at his declaration.
"But you did," she said to him, as she shifted in her position "and you've done it one too many times".
"That was when I was a kid, back when I was too self-centered, too focused on having other kids like me and too scared to stand up for something, in fear of being ostracized. But, now, I am man—
Somalia made another scoff and then said, "Just because you have hair on your nuts, have a minimum-wage job but living off of a trust fund, a defunct-marriage and now have an eight-pack doesn't mean that you're a man, sonny!" She knew that her insult had struck a nerve with him, when she saw his eyes narrow and his jaw's muscles clench. "Did I hit a sore spot for you?" she said in a taunting way.
Tristan tried to feel angry at her, but he was finding it to be hard. There, she was: his dream girl, laying in a bed and looking ripe for picking. Her skin was flushed and appeared to be glowing. Her thick, curly hair was styled to the side and looked unruly, as if she had just finished having a romp in the hay. His eyes were drawn to her chest, thanks to the plunging neckline of her dress. Her cleavage looked alluring as it moved with every inhalation and exhalation. His eyes traveled to another favorite part her body. She had her legs free from under the blanket. Her right knee was bent and propped up while her left leg was extended in front of her. Her tangerine-colored dress was pushed up to her torso and off of her legs. The comforter was strategically positioned in between her thighs.
"Are you ever going to forgive me for all of the stupid shit that I've done, when I was a kid? Or are you going to hold it against me for the rest of your life?" Tristan asked her.
"No, I don't forgive you, because I think you're not sorry at all."
"I am sorry about all of it!" he said to her, with his voice rising in volume. He could feel the twinges of frustration burning at him. Here he is, trying to make her understand that he was remorseful of his behavior and she is not believing him. "I was a fucking kid and so were you. I would have hope that you would've grown out—
In the speed that it takes to blink an eye, Somalia was kneeling in front of him, on the mattress. Her sudden movement had caused to Tristan to jump back, in alarm. Her eyes were wide and filled with anger. Without screaming or yelling at him, she gave him a warning. Her voice was low and calm, but it held an intensity that was barely contained.
"DON'T. YOU. FUCKING. DARE. MAKE LIGHT OF MY PAIN!" she said to him with her eyes trained on him. "It's bad enough I had to hear that shit from my parents, who taught me to feel bad for feeling bad! For them, all I had to do was just focus on my academics and make sure I don't lose my scholarship! They didn't care that their only daughter was thinking about killing herself! They were thinking about how good that they were going to look in front of their friends! At school, I had to listen to my teachers tell me that I should be 'strong enough' to not let insults bother me; that I should focus on the opportunities that I am receiving at Walcott! I watched my coaches turn a blind eye to it! Just as long as one of you fucks didn't bang me up to the point where I couldn't play in a Friday night game. Otherwise than that, my coaches didn't give a shit! To a lot of those people, I was just another statistic, a faceless student, a black student to fill out their diversity and just a big, black nigger that they were forced to deal with! So, don't you dare say anything to me about 'getting over it'! I refuse to hear that shit from your ass! " She fell silent with the exception of her panting.
He noticed a tear sliding down her right cheek. He wanted so desperately to wipe it away. Her body trembled with anger. Her anger was coming off so strong that it made goose pimples form on his arms. But he noticed that she was feeling something else. He received his answer a few seconds later, when she sat on her haunches and burst into tears. Her arms wrapped themselves around her body while she cried. A soul-crushing sob had escaped, which made Tristan's sorrow increase ten-fold.
At this point, Somalia didn't care if she looked like a crying idiot in front of Tristan. The relief that she felt at this moment was too good of a moment. Soon, she felt his arms pull her onto his lap and hold her onto her, as she released all of the pent-up sadness and anger that was kept inside of her for thirteen years.
Somalia didn't know how long she cried, but by the time she was done, she felt physically different. Her headache returned from the exertion of her sobbing. She felt the swelling of her eyes. She also felt lighter like an invisible amount of weight as been pulled out of her. She knew that it had to do with the fact that the majority of the burden that she was holding onto was now gone.
The apology had come from the large man that was still cradling her in his arms. Somalia gazed up at him and murmured a "huh?" which earned a chuckle from him.
"I said that I am sorry for all of things that I've done to you..." he explained to her. His hands caressed her back and shoulders while his chin rested on the crown of her head. "I'm not going to make any excuses for my behavior, because there isn't any justifiable reasoning."
"Oh, oh okay," she whimpered, before resting her head against his left shoulder.
The suite's bedroom was silent. Somalia knew that she shouldn't have felt relaxed as she sat on his lap. Her body screamed in delight as his hands massaged at her scalp, as well as, her left arm and shoulder. She knew that she should've been angry and should've been lashing out at him. Instead, she felt content, lighter and relaxed, as she stared out of the large bedroom window, at the scenic Mountain View.
"Pretty view," she said aloud, to no one in particular.
"What?" he said to her, with his lips lightly brushing against her forehead.
"The view" she said, lightly, as she pointed at the window, "it's beautiful".
He stared out the window at the mountains.
"Yeah, it's nice but not as beautiful as you" he said to her, which earned a 'ugh' from Somalia. "What? It's true. I would rather stare at you instead of some big pile of rocks."
"Ugh, does those corny ass pick-up lines work?" she asked him as she adjusted herself on his thick, muscled thighs. Unbeknownst to Somalia, her ample derriere brushed against her groin, which stirred his cock from its slumber.
"That was not a pick-up line, when it was the truth," he said to her, hoping that his erection won't be detected.
"Yeah, whatever, Casanova," she said to him as she settled into his lap. Her arms were now wrapped around his waist and her face was close to nuzzling the curve of his neck. "Casanova who smells like roses and..." She then set his loins aflame by placing her face close to the sensitive part of his neck and taking a whiff. "...my cucumber-melon body wash that I bought from Bath and Body Works," she stated. Her breath had tickled him and he felt his arousal grow even more. "It's not bad on you. I always thought that it would be weird smell, if it was on a guy, but on you..." Her voice trailed off; when she felt his hands pull at her upper body. His hands asked of her to sit up on his lap and she complied. Somalia stared at his face and saw that he appeared angry. She wondered if he was angry at her and for whatever reason. "Tristan, are you—
Somalia did not get to say another word, due to his lips crashing down on hers, as he supplied her with a kiss. It was a kiss that held passion. She groaned in surprise, but then whimpered in pleasure. She whimpered again, when she felt his tongue slide into her mouth, once his kisses had become more passionate. As they kissed, she felt his hands tug at her dress and touch at her skin. With every caress, her body would crave for more contact. A shudder trickled down her spine, when she felt his fingers touch the bare flesh of her back. He managed to roll down the zipper of her dress and slide the material off of her. Now, topless and with her breasts exposed, his mouth left hers and travel down to her neck. He sucked, licked and bit at the sensitive skin before traveling lower. Her hands encouraged him with his journey as they cradled his face and urged him to continue. When his lips reached her mounds of flesh, his lips clamped onto a brown, puckered nipple and sucked with a strong force.
"Oh, Tristan" she gasped, as her hips writhed on his lap.
Her ass rubbed against his cock as it lay against his left thigh. His grunts of pleasure would vibrate through her titty and she would groan at the sensation. With each swiped at his meat, her pussy became wetter and begged for some contact. As if reading her mind, she felt his hand drifted down to her cunt and felt his fingers play at her slit. Her hips bucked at the contact.
"Oh, fuck, shit" she gasped. Her hips rocked against his prick, in a fast pace, which made his grunt and nip lightly at her breast. His fingers rubbed at her clit in big, rough circles that sent tiny, shocks of pleasure through her body. "Tristan" she gasped.
With his hand, still playing at her cunt, Tristan changed her position on his lap. Her back was now pressed to his chest. The back of her head was now resting on his right shoulder. Her ass was still rubbing up against his cock and her legs were spread apart, revealing her cunt and giving him more access to it. With his mouth no longer on her tits, his left hand now took its place. His fingers rubbed and kneaded at the flesh while his right fingers rubbed at her heated core. For Tristan, the sounds of her pleasure were music to his ears.
"Tristan," she cried.
"You like how I am making your pussy feel" he groaned in her ear. With her constant grinding against his dick, it wasn't long before he felt the build-up forming at the base of his nuts. He didn't want to cum inside of a towel. He wanted his cock to be buried deep within her snatch, when he exploded.
"Oh, God, yes" she moaned.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked in a whisper. Then, his fingers slipped away from her aroused center and delivered a slap to it. In response, her hips jerked, a shaky wail escaped her and a blunt wave of pleasure shot through her. He repeated his question to her.
"Yes," she whimpered.
"Tell me that you want me to fuck you," he demanded, as he continued with the strict swats to her cunt.
"I-I want-want you to fuck me... Oh God," she moaned as her bottom and pelvis lifted up in the air.
Tristan took the opportunity to remove the towel from around his body. His cock sprung up from its confines with a dribble off pre-cum sliding down from its tip. He grabbed a hold of the shaft's base with his left hand while his right one spread her cunt's lips apart, to reveal her canal. With the aid of his hand, he guided her to sink down onto his erected member. He was patient with her as she taken her time. He was aware that she hasn't been sexually active in a long time. The lovers groaned at the sensation from the fusion of their two bodies. For a brief moment, her body was still, as she adjusted to his girth and length. Her walls would contract around him and he bit down the urge to withdraw and then ram into her. Instead, he had shown her tenderness during this time with his kisses and tight embrace.
Once Somalia's hips begin to writhe, he let go of her. His hands had gone to her womanly hips. "Ride me," he commanded, in a lust-filled groan.
"I don't know how to," she confessed. Even though she wasn't a virgin, she wasn't experienced.
"I'll show you, baby" and then, with the aid of his hands, showed her how to move. With every vertical movement her hips made, a wave of pleasure washed over her. It would start deep inside of her, spread to her clit, to her nipples and burn out in the pit of her belly. She would cry out at the sensation. "There you go, baby, there you go," he grunted. Once he figured that she had a handle on things, he lain back, on the bed. His hands gripped onto her hips and were lulled by her movements.
'You shouldn't do this,' her conscience reported.
'You shouldn't be doing this.'
You shouldn't be doing this, Molly. Girl, what are you doing?' her mind shouted at her. 'He's Julian's father, remember? Girl, he had broken your heart once before. Do you remember that time? Girl, he is probably going to leave you heart-broken once again and with another baby in your gut. Then, what? You are going to be a single mother of two kids...'
"Shut...up," she moaned to herself, in particular to her nagging thoughts, as she rode Tristan's cock. To shut off her conscious, she opened her eyes and gazed down at where their bodies were joined. She groaned from pleasure at the sight. His white shaft was appearing disappearing and then re-appearing as it moved in and out of her pussy. His balls, which were darker in color and covered in flaxen-colored hair, twitched. Her soft hand palmed the objects and massaged them. In result, Tristan moaned, lifted his hips off the bed and gave five, hard thrusts. "Oh, shit," she screamed, louder than she intended. She leaned forward, spread her legs wider and planted her hands on his thighs. In this slightly new position, the penetration felt deeper, his cock's head grazed her G-spot and the pleasure was greater. Her loud groan occurred behind her and she felt his hands tighten their embrace on her hips. A lump of a familiar sensation had formed at the pit of her stomach and was seeping down into her sex. "Oh," she moaned, as her lower lips pulsated. She picked up the pace and was rewarded with spasms that ripped through her lower region. "Oooh, oh, oh, God I'm cumming!" she moaned loudly.