Excerpt
His legs by now are opened as wide as the couch. You ponder for a moment as a list of rules and mantras about sex on a first date flow through your head like water and go down the drain. Your pipes gurgle. You sit by him. He takes your hand and places it on his crotch and croons, “How does it feel?” Your hand is halfway down his thigh before it runs out of dick. His kisses are tentative and obligatory before he pushes your head toward his nipple. He takes off his wife beater and it lands on the floor next to your bedroom door. You want to mention the fresh, clean linens on the bed, but he’s got your mouth pressing hard on that nipple, “Yeah bite that nipple, nigga. Suck it, nigga!” His other hand is unzipping his jeans and digging to free that hoe handle. He pushes your head from his nipples and your lips brush the ripples across his belly. Your jaw hits the tip of his dick. It’s moist and you feel a dab of pre-cum on your face. He turns your head so that your lips brush across the wide head. Instinctively you open your mouth as if you’re a baby receiving his Mother’s breast. You haven’t done this for a while, but your lips and teeth remember their proper places. They part as wide as the Red sea did for Moses. You grab a fist full of dick. It hits the back of your throat and there’s still dick outside your mouth. By now, his pants are off and his musk scented balls rest against your tweed sofa. Sighs escape his lips and he makes noises like steam rising off a hot iron. Suddenly, you go deaf. You’ve got so much dick in your mouth your ear canals are stopped up. All you hear is that hog snorting coming from your throat. Your saliva dribbles down his shaft, soaks his nuts, and leaves a wet pool on your couch. You make a mental note to buy upholstery cleaner. Diesel Plow feels you struggling for air and reluctantly lets you ease up. You swallow a cocktail of saliva, hair, and precum.
His legs by now are opened as wide as the couch. You ponder for a moment as a list of rules and mantras about sex on a first date flow through your head like water and go down the drain. Your pipes gurgle. You sit by him. He takes your hand and places it on his crotch and croons, “How does it feel?” Your hand is halfway down his thigh before it runs out of dick. His kisses are tentative and obligatory before he pushes your head toward his nipple. He takes off his wife beater and it lands on the floor next to your bedroom door. You want to mention the fresh, clean linens on the bed, but he’s got your mouth pressing hard on that nipple, “Yeah bite that nipple, nigga. Suck it, nigga!” His other hand is unzipping his jeans and digging to free that hoe handle. He pushes your head from his nipples and your lips brush the ripples across his belly. Your jaw hits the tip of his dick. It’s moist and you feel a dab of pre-cum on your face. He turns your head so that your lips brush across the wide head. Instinctively you open your mouth as if you’re a baby receiving his Mother’s breast. You haven’t done this for a while, but your lips and teeth remember their proper places. They part as wide as the Red sea did for Moses. You grab a fist full of dick. It hits the back of your throat and there’s still dick outside your mouth. By now, his pants are off and his musk scented balls rest against your tweed sofa. Sighs escape his lips and he makes noises like steam rising off a hot iron. Suddenly, you go deaf. You’ve got so much dick in your mouth your ear canals are stopped up. All you hear is that hog snorting coming from your throat. Your saliva dribbles down his shaft, soaks his nuts, and leaves a wet pool on your couch. You make a mental note to buy upholstery cleaner. Diesel Plow feels you struggling for air and reluctantly lets you ease up. You swallow a cocktail of saliva, hair, and precum.
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