Gettin' Buck Wild: Sex Chronicles II (22 page)

First, the facts, and trust me, I know my shit well. Years of research and hands-on experience have schooled this sistah.

Here is the lowdown:

It only takes about a dozen muscles to smile, but more than a hundred to cum. Each tablespoon of cum only has about seven calories. One good ejaculation can knock up more than half the women on the face of the earth. A man will cum thousands of times during his life span, and about a third of those times will be from masturbation. Dicks have about ten times more blood in them when they are hard than when they are soft. A shitload of men masturbate on a daily basis, no matter what. Some men can get hard again instantly, and some can’t get it up again for weeks. Most men get hard-ons around the clock. Dicks are extremely durable, so ride the hell out of them, ladies, ’cause you can’t break them.

And they have the nerve to say, “Milk does a body good!”

In case, you haven’t figured it out by now, I have a weakness for cum. To be even more specific, a man’s cum. I love everything about it, especially the taste. A man can never cum too much for me, and I can’t understand why any woman would not love to gulp it down. The concept of not swallowing is beyond me.

Sperm is a delicacy, especially when the man eats, drinks, and even smells certain things. The smells of pumpkin pie, lavender, licorice, and doughnuts increase blood flow to a dick. Alkaline-based foods such as meat and fish produce a buttery or fishy taste, while dairy products make a brother taste foul. Asparagus creates the foulest taste of all, so for goodness sake, never let your man eat asparagus. You following me?

Acidic fruits and alcohol make cum taste sweet. Yummy, yummy, yummy, I got cum in my tummy! Chemically processed liquors make cum have an acidy taste, and so on and so on.

Now that you know about my weakness for cum, let me tell you about my “cum daddies,” as I affectionately call them. I have two of them at present, Brandon and Travis. They are both good lovers, but that is not why I am with them. I fuck them both because I just love the way they cum.

Take Brandon, for example. He is a junior in college, a few years too young for me emotionally, but hell, I am not trying to walk down the aisle with him or no ridiculous shit like that. That’ll never happen.

I met him in the college bookstore. I am working on my doctorate in the graduate program and was looking for a textbook I needed when I spotted him in the next aisle. He had that look about him—the look an experienced sistah, such as me, can spot right away. The look telling me he could fuck his ass off. I targeted my mark, and as always, I hit the bull’s-eye and picked his ass up right then and there. The next night I invited him over to my place and tore his dick the fuck up.

I seduced him with little effort and had him sucking my toes within fifteen minutes after he hit the door. Young brothers are so pussy-controlled. You offer them some coochie, they are going to hit it whether you are eight or eighty, blind, crippled, or crazy. Like Run DMC said, “It’s like that and that’s the way it is.”

Brandon is one fine mutha fucka, though, and if he was a few years older, I might just marry his ass. Nothing wrong with an old ball and chain when it looks as good as him. He is five-ten, 185 pounds, medium complexion with light eyes. He has a nice build from working out four times a week. More like seven or eight times, if you include the three or four times he works out with me.

Our first night of sex was interesting, to say the least. I tied him to a dining room chair with his ankles bound and his hands tied behind his back with electrical tape and even covered his mouth with the shit, after taking off my panties and shoving them in his mouth first. Yeah, I am kinky like that. It’s not like he couldn’t breathe through his nose. So anyway, I rode his dick real good, like a wild horse galloping through the woods, until I could tell he was about to detonate, got off his dick, and extracted the catalytic fluid from him orally.

Let me tell you, I thought the man was going to have a freaking heart attack. When he came, he reminded me of a scene from a movie I had seen once. I can’t recall the name, but there was this scene where a couple had been bound and gagged by some masked intruders who later cut their throats and watched them bleed to death, shaking and quivering, until the end finally came. Not the best simile, but that is what Brandon looked like when he came, like a condemned man having a thousand volts galvanized into his system while strapped in an electric chair. Dayum, that shit turned a sistah on, and I came more than he did. And the cum, the cum was nothing short of remarkable. It tasted so dayum savory, like I knew it would. When a man eats a balanced diet and works out the way Brandon does, there was no way I could steer wrong with the cum.

That was our first night, our moment of glory. I was satisfied, and Brandon was pussy-whipped, and it was all good. I untied him, let him get in my bed and rest up some, and then woke his ass up with one hell of a blow job because I was still mad hungry. It has been five months now since we met, and I still have him wrapped around my little finger. Like I said, controlled by the pussy. They say this is a man’s world, but all of us women know the real deal. Every man from the flats of Compton to the White House is controlled by the pussy. This is a woman’s world. They are just squirrels trying to get a nut. Get it?

Now, let me tell you about my other “cum daddy,” Travis. He is older than me, but I still would never marry him because there is a certain idiocy about him and I don’t like his ways. I do, however, have a great appreciation of the way he fucks and nothing but love for the way he cums.

Travis and I encountered each other at an art gallery showing one evening. I was there checking out some abstract paintings by a young, up-and-coming black artist. He was doing the same. We started a conversation pertaining to one painting that showed the outline of a black couple. The woman was on her knees, as was the man positioned behind her, and he was eating her ass out.

Travis asked my opinion of it, and after looking back and forth between his refined ass and the painting, I told him the scene portrayed in it made me horny. You see, Travis is a fine-ass man, too, and fine-ass men who have that fuck-you-till-you-beg-for-mercy air about them simply thrill me.

Travis is not as built as Brandon. He is more slender yet very athletic as well. He is a daily runner who follows a strict vegetarian diet, except for when he eats me of course. He is as dark as they come, originally from the West Indies, six-two, 180 pounds, dark bedroom eyes, and a smile that is a bit crooked, and he has a pleasing disposition.

I asked him back to my place for cocktails, and he accepted after buying the eating-ass portrait for me. I have it hanging on the wall over my bed to this very day. We chatted into the wee hours of the morning, exchanging childhood stories and then bringing things up-to-date.

He was about to leave around 3
A.M.
Or so he thought—but I wasn’t even having it. I told him that instead of heading home, he should stay and suck on some of my pussy. From the look on his face he was not accustomed to sexually uninhibited women like me, but he was dayum sure glad to finally run across one.

I led him to the bedroom, and we got butt-naked and became engrossed with each other’s sexual organs, caressing all the good parts. I decided to conduct an experiment on his ass. As a rule of thumb, I generally like to get straight to the fucking as soon as possible, but I decided to tempt fate that night and draw out the process.

I told Travis he couldn’t stick his dick in me until we played a game. I went into my bathroom and pulled out the basket of flavored oils I keep in my linen closet. I have quite a variety and proceeded to put a different flavor on various parts of my anatomy before I returned to the bedroom, where Travis anxiously waited for my return.

Then I laid out the rules of the game. He had to lick the different parts of my body and guess what flavor I had on each one. If he were to give a wrong answer, he had to get dressed, carry his sorry ass home, and take a cold shower.

I told him to lick my lips first, and he got that one easy. It was lemon. I told him to lick my neck, and after a moment’s hesitation, he figured out it was peach. My tits were next. One was sporting raspberry and the other vanilla. He named both. He lingered a bit on the right tit, though; giving me the feeling he was a breast man. After three months of fucking him, now I know for sure he is a breast man, ’cause he is always reluctant to let my nipples loose once he gets hold of them.

Next came my belly button. He recognized the chocolate taste right off the bat. Then he had to lick my inner thighs. The left one was strawberry and the right blueberry. This is when the game got tricky. I was beginning to think I would be faced with the decision of carrying through with my ultimatum. Would I really make his ass leave, or back down and give the pussy up anyway? Travis pulled it off though, getting both flavors right.

He had one last obstacle to cross to get the gold medal, though. That was figuring out what flavor was on my pussy. I thought it was easy, but his ass didn’t know the answer on the first few licks. My patience was growing thin! He kept licking and licking and still didn’t have a clue. So I gave him one.

“What is a nickname for pussy?” His ass still didn’t know, so I continued, “What word completes this sentence? ‘I am gonna bust her (blank)!’”

That was when I knew he was an idiot, so I told him that it was a fruit and had a stem. He finally figured out it was cherry, and the fucking began. The night took a turn for the better then, because Travis fucked my ass royally. He hit it from every direction. I told him to make sure to tell me when he was about to cum, ’cause I wanted to swallow it all. That turned his ass out, and he really started wearing this nana out.

He was fucking me doggy-style when he pulled out and told me he was cumming. I turned around faster than the speed of light and caught that cum like an action hero. It was a speeding bullet, and I was about to catch it between my teeth. Once again, I was right on the money: Travis is the king cum daddy. I swear his cum was like a forty shooting down my throat, tasted like cinnamon rolls. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s true.

As far as his cum style, Travis gets tens straight across the board for delivery, expression, and creativity. He always comes with such style and grace, like a gazelle prancing through a field of lilies. I am used to men making all kinds of noises and shaking like an earthquake when they come, but not Travis. He just lies there, as if in a trance, with glazed eyes and shallow breathing. His body freezes up like an Eskimo stranded on an iceberg without a coat. It is such a turn-on. I can’t get enough of it.

Well, now you know all about my two cum daddies. I don’t love them, but I lust them, and that’s just as good. Every time they cum for me, I lust after them even more. Cum is scrumptious, nutritional, and great for the complexion. “Cum does a body good!”