Gettin' Buck Wild: Sex Chronicles II (11 page)

“Let me please you,” he whispered as he lifted my left leg and placed it on his shoulder, lapping at my pussy lips in a fashion I had never experienced before. He buried his nose and mouth into my center, and I threw my head back in ecstasy, my toes curled up against his back.

“This is so crazy,” I said to no one in particular. I was becoming delirious at the fact that I was letting a stranger suck all up on my thing in a crowded movie theater.

Orlando ate me out for a good long time, and I enjoyed every second of it. The brother didn’t just have skills. He had skillz with a Z, meaning he worked some magic with his tongue.

I came in his mouth, and before I could take a single restorative breath, he stood up, lifted me against the wall, and invaded my sugary walls with his splendid dick. I wrapped my legs around his back, my arms around his shoulders, and settled in comfortably for the ride. He gave me his tongue again, which was a good thing because it helped to stifle my moans. I could feel his ball sack jiggling up and down against the bottom of my thighs as he picked up speed and caught a rhythm. Someone started screaming on the movie screen, and I couldn’t take it any more. I broke our kiss and let out a scream of my own. I don’t know for sure if someone heard me and turned around to be nosy. I really didn’t care at that point.

One scream led to another, and the sex was so good that I dug my teeth into Orlando’s neck and gave him what was sure to turn out to be one big-ass hickey. That must have set off something in him. A moment later, I felt him explode inside me. My own cum was trickling down my inner thighs onto the dark carpet.

Orlando stood there, holding me against the wall for a little while, both of us marveling at the events that had just taken place. All I could think about was taking him home with me, laying him down in my king-size waterbed, and riding him atop the waves for the rest of the weekend.

That’s exactly what I did, too. I asked him to come home with me. We didn’t even stay for the rest of the movie. Once you miss the beginning, it’s all water under the bridge anyway, and besides, Orlando promised to bring me back to see it the next day. We didn’t make it to the theater the next day. We were still going at each other hard at my place.

JayQuan came over unannounced, banging on my door like he owned the joint. I didn’t even answer. I told Orlando the truth, that I had been seeing someone but things had long fizzled out, and I needed a man whose wants and desires mirrored my own. That’s when we sat down and had a long talk on my balcony over a fruit salad and a bottle of sparkling apple cider, listening to jazz music pump out of the stereo in my living room. As it turned out, Orlando and I have quite a lot in common; everything from our taste in music to clothes, food, and even cultural activities. More than that, I feel like I finally found a man who can stay around for the long haul. Sure, we didn’t meet under the most romantic of circumstances, but he has made up for that over and over again during the past six months. Who knows what the future holds? All I know is that a night at the movies turned out to bring me many nights of pleasure, and any way you size that one up, everything comes up roses.

I was planning to stay home that night because I was pissed the hell off about my breakup with Trevor. I had to go out, though, and it wasn’t like I was going clubbing or any shit like that. I was simply going to the coin laundry to wash some damn drawers. You know how it is when your panty supply gets down to the wire. When you are single, working twelve hours a day and living without the convenience of a washer and dryer up in the crib, you wait till the last minute and take about five baskets of clothes to the ’mat at one time.

That is what I was doing that night—getting my wardrobe straightened out. When I got to the ’mat, there was no one there except this one sistah with the most hardheaded set of twin boys I had ever seen in my life. How she managed to fold clothes and stay calm enough not to beat some ass was beyond me.

She was piling the kids and the laundry baskets of clean clothes into her minivan when he pulled up in a Mazda RX-7. I was sitting there chillin’, reading an issue of
Essence
that was about fifty fucking years old I found in the torn-up and ragged collection of mags on the antique table in between the only two pleather chairs in the joint, when he got out of his ride.

My first instinct was,
playa.
Shit, aren’t they all? My second instinct was,
foine.
The bruh made my one pair of previously fresh drawers, the ones I was wearing, instantly wet. Made my juices get to flowing. Know what I mean?

He started bringing his clothes in, and he was a typical bachelor. He had his shit in plastic trash bags and had one of those miniature boxes of laundry powder he probably paid too damn much for at the convenience store down the block.

“How you doing?” He gave me a holla while I was sitting there enjoying the view, a Coke, and a smile.

“Fine, and you?”

My southern drawl seemed to be ten times more profound than usual, and that shit only happens when I am horny. Trevor used to always laugh at my ass because I would start talking like a country bumpkin every time he started hitting it from the back.

He divided his clothes like a good little Boy Scout, separating the colors and then tossing them into three different washers.

One of the four dryers my clothes were occupying went off, and I got up to retrieve a rolling cart to move the clothes from the dryer to a laundry table.

He spoke to me again. “So, what’s your name?”

I was not even trying to hear it. Foine or not, I was sick-da-hell of men and had sworn off the dick for at least three months. “I don’t have a name.”

He smirked at me. “Yeah, right!”

“You, bruh-man, are a stranger, and my momma told me never to talk to strangers.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as I said the shit, because I was sounding more like a four-year-old than a grown-ass woman.

“Hmmm, yeah! You better watch out for me. Late at night. Empty Laundromat. Full moon!” We both laughed.

“Your ass is silly!”

I got my clothes over to the table and started folding them up. I was getting kind of “shamed” when I noticed him watching me separate my bras from my panties and socks.

“Need some help?” He was looking my ass up and down like a bear eyeing a pot of honey. “I don’t have shit to do at the moment but wait for my clothes to wash.”

“Now why would I want your crusty hands all over my drawers? No telling where those things have been.”

He walked closer to me, and my pussy starting throbbing. Why, I have no clue, but my pussy lips were jumping like two castanets. “You are too cute. Tell me your name.”

“Hells naw! I am not telling you my name, and you sure as hell better not tell me yours, because I could care less.”

“Really?”

He was standing so close to me by that time, I could feel his breath on my neck, and it smelled like peppermint. Fresh breath has always been a turn-on to me. That au naturel shit has to go.

“Yes, really.”

I started folding my shit faster because my white lace panties were getting soaked, and I knew pussy juice would start trickling down the inside of my legs any second if I didn’t get the foine-ass nucca the hell away from me.

I don’t know what the telling signs were, but he knew I wanted his ass. He decided to go for it, and men who are sexually aggressive make my toes curl. I hate the nuccas who look dumbfounded when you tell them to pop a tit in their mouth or suck on your pussy. Some men can’t deal with uninhibited sistahs.

He was not fronting though, and my ass cheeks started throbbing when he brushed his dick up against me. He was about five inches taller than me, so his dick was pressing up against the small of my back. Felt damn good, too. Of course, I was not about to tell him that.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“Helping you with your laundry.”

“Bullshit!”

He reached around me, with one arm on each side, and started folding up my panties. I froze. “You know, you forgot a pair?”

“Huh?” I was lost like a virgin in a whorehouse.

“You forgot to wash a pair of your panties.”

“Bruh, you trippin’. How you know my panty count and shit?” I turned my head toward him and looked up at him.

“You forgot to wash the pair you have on. Let me help you take them off.”

He strategically moved his hands from the laundry table to my breasts and started palming them bad boys. Perfect fit, I might add. Like a hand to a glove. Then came the tricky part. I stood there debating whether I should stay on my dick starvation diet and push his hands away or give in to my desires and enjoy the ride.

I looked out onto the street in front of the Laundromat, and there was not a soul in sight. There we were, exposed because the entire front of the place was glass. At that moment, something popped into my head. I decided it was time to stop “freaming” and start “freaking.” For those of you who don’t know, “freaming” is dreaming of doing freaky shit your ass would never have the nerve to do while you are awake. I pondered over it and decided it was time to get jiggy with it.

I looked at him. He looked at me. I whispered, “Fuck the bullshit!” and it was on. We started tonguing the hell out each other, and he had a thick tongue. Just the way I like them, especially when the tongue is licking my other pair of lips.

I caressed the back of his neck with one hand and his juicy ass with the other as we kissed. His kisses reminded me of the first time I ever kissed a boy back in junior high school. They were passionate and yet a bit rushed.

He turned me around slowly by my hips as our tongues continued to intertwine. Then he started caressing my nipples, which were now very erect and protruding through the sheer material of my spaghetti-strap sundress. That was the moment I knew I was going to fuck that man every which way from Sunday, public place or not.

He reached underneath my dress, and I gratefully spread my legs so he could get two fingers into the elastic of my black lace panties and into the sanctuary of my wet, pulsating pussy.

His fingers felt like they were performing a sensual dance on my clit, and my juices started accumulating.

“Let’s take these off.” I didn’t argue with his suggestion and even helped him along. After they were completely off, he lifted them up to his mouth and sucked my pussy juice off the crotch. Damn, I was just
too
through.

With my panties still in his mouth, he picked me up and sat my ass on top of one of the washing machines that was on the rinse cycle. It was there that he fucked my ass royally.

He ripped his dick out of his pants so fast that I didn’t even see him unfasten them. Then he took a condom out of his pocket, ripped it open with his teeth and snatched it out the package. I wanted to laugh because he was trying to seem intimidating, and the shit was not even working.

“You think you can handle all this dick?”

I glanced down at it. It was
huge,
but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of letting him know I was truly impressed. “It is rather large, but I’ve seen
and had
bigger dicks than that inside me.”

He winced at my comment and jimmied the condom onto his dick. It barely fit, and I began to get a bit nervous. “Well, you may have had bigger dicks, but you’ve never had any man fuck you as hard as I’m about to fuck you right now.”

“Humph, promises, promises.”

He rammed his dick in me and ran his thick tongue up my neck. “How’s this for promises?”

“It’s a start,” I barely managed to say—his dick inside me took my breath away.

The vibrations from the machine added to the experience, because it felt like someone was fondling my ass at the same time.

He went fast at first and then slowed down, gazing in my eyes and planting small kisses on my chin. “Admit it,” he said about three minutes into the act.

“Admit what?”

“That this is some good-ass dick.” I didn’t say a word, so he started going in and out so fast that my inner thighs started trembling. “Now admit it.”

I still would not say the words he wanted, so he took his dick out, pulled me down off the machine, and turned me around. My stomach hit the cold surface of the machine, and he kneeled down, spread my ass cheeks open, and started licking the crease of my ass.

“Ooh, you’re so nasty!” I exclaimed, loving every second of it.

“You’re right.” He slapped me hard on the ass. “Now admit you haven’t had a man like me before.”

I smirked and then lied. “I’ve had plenty.”

He stood back up and then stuck the tip of his dick on my anus. “You talk a bunch of shit. I wonder what you’ll say if I stick this all in you.”

“I’ll say the same thing I just said. That I’ve had plenty.”

“Then get ready to say it,” he stated with disdain before sticking it all in me at once.

“Oh, shit!” I yelled out in pleasure.

He pumped his dick around in my ass until he came a few minutes later.

“So what do you have to say now?” he asked as he deflated inside of me.

I gulped before answering, “Okay, I admit it. You have some good-ass dick.”

We both broke out in laughter and fell to the floor just as the washer went off.

I never saw the bruh again. Although, it wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. It just wasn’t in the cards, but at least for one night I actually did something totally off the chain. I was telling my best friend about it the following weekend, and once I finished relating the story, she looked at me in amazement and exclaimed, “Damn, girl! Sex while you wash your drawers? You’re my damn shero!”