0 comments/ 8569 views/ 0 favorites The Freak 21 By: Simon_Ringwood A journalist remarked that time will now be measured around September 11, 2001 -- as Before and After. Before, life could be considered normal. After, tens of thousands of people I'd never known nor met became as important to me as family. Other, more personal events had long been coming by the time September 11th rolled around. My love life had been in complete stasis for a number of months, and I decided I'd had enough of being single. A girl came back into my life right about then, one I used to work with at Half-Price Books, a girl I felt was ultimately too cool for me. Fate prevailed, this time on my behalf. I'm glad for this. Our conversations went for hours, and opportunities to go out somewhere together came and went... and One Damn Thing After Another always prevented these from happening. But finally, we pegged a date down. Monty Python and the Holy Grail had just been re-released, and she and I were both rabid fans. I had the night off from work, and she had nothing to do that evening. The evening of September 11th. My dad woke me up Tuesday morning, 8:30am, with news that was at first incomprehensible. "Ken, come downstairs. Two planes have hit the World Trade Center." I was so bleary with sleep (I'd only gotten about 5 hours of it by that point) that I misunderstood him. I thought he was referring to the Dallas World Trade Center, a building clearly visible from the windows of my house. I expected to glance outside and see pillars of black smoke. So I was doubly confused when my dad lead me to the living room, where Peter Jennings was the voice-over for a devastating visual: the World Trade Center twin towers, the two most recognizable pillars of American economic strength, were broken and smoking. Both towers had been hit by separate jets, so there was no way this was an accident. What we had was clearly an act of terrorism. The bad news piled on more and more as my dad and I sat and watched, riveted, unbelieving. Car bomb outside the State Department (a rumor later discounted). Planes being grounded; two still unaccounted for. Plane hits the Pentagon, driving through all layers from the outside wall into the inner courtyard. Plane hits the ground sixty miles outside of Pittsburgh with little chance of any survivors. To my shocked eyes and ears, the sky was falling. Two planes were still aloft, and the worries of me and my dad turned to my mom. She is a diligent woman, possessed of honest demeanor and work mentality, and refused to go home. My mom is a top official for Dallas Water Utilities. My mom just so happens to work at city hall. Maybe my dad and I were simply paranoid; maybe we were just being cautious. Finally the situation stabilized, as much as was possible. More coherent reports were coming in, and emergency services were beginning to file into the buildings to rescue those trapped inside. Though devastating, the horror seemed to be over. Then the first tower fell, live on TV. As I hear it, the tower simply imploded. The weight was too much for pillars melted by fiery jet fuel to stand, and the whole building fell inward on itself. The death toll would be obscene. Eighteen minutes later, the second tower buckled and went down, killing hundreds, perhaps thousands more people. People whose crime was not calling in sick on Tuesday morning. Brokers and bankers and secretaries and technicians, mothers and fathers and siblings and lovers. People who, in their own way, mattered. Then there were the firemen, the policemen, the volunteer rescue workers and the EMTs. People driven by nothing more than a desire to help their fellow man, who gave the ultimate sacrifice without looking back. Not even once. The rest of that morning was a blur. New reports streamed endlessly in, some discounted mere minutes after they were reported. The situation was stabilizing. There was no way to determine who had lived and who had died, or how many of each there were. Survival seemed impossible; 110 stories of concrete, steel, glass, and office furniture imploded on itself and collapsed into the ground... who could survive that? The realistic estimated the fatality rate to be in the high-nineties percentile, if not 100% altogether. Somehow, I unglued myself from my seat and TV to go to class. I felt almost sacrilegious doing so, but the class was a journalism class, and I knew something might come from going, perhaps some further insight. The streets were bare and cops seemed to be posted every 100 yards, watching, waiting. Richland itself was much as I suspected it would be: tense, quiet, all TVs turned to CNN. Dozens of people of all stripes gathered around to watch the news. The gravity of the situation really hit me, then. This was global. This was painful to everyone, whether they knew anyone in New York or not. Some few Palestinians danced in the streets, but they seemed insignificant to the cries of sympathy from countries so varied as Mexico, Brazil, Holland, Turkey, Malaysia, and Australia. England, Russia, and the countries of NATO all voiced their support in finding the persons responsible, with Russia going so far as to say "if you don't do it, we will." The unity, the overwhelming support, moved me to tears. For one day, the world was of single mind and heart, breathless and staring at the unbelievable images that came to them on TV. Thousands died; billions more watched. Journalism class did not disappoint. With few exceptions, most people were possessed of simple sorrow; a tragedy of this magnitude cuts through the rage and the B.S. and goes right for the heart. We were numbed, one and all, but we were proud of how the media, and the people, handled the situation. For such an amazing and terrible event, we saw and we knew. Everything. I came back home after class was over. My car is my haven, and so for that twenty minutes it was just me and my latest mix CD. I needed the break. Urgency was beginning to leak away, slowly but steadily. No more attacks had occurred. The worst, it appeared, was over. Was I any less riveted by the news? Of course not. There was still the aftermath to deal with. And my mind, for the first time that day, seriously turned to the date I would be having that evening. I did not, did not, want to cancel this date (or whatever it was; at the time, the definition was still a bit fuzzy) but world events had done their absolute best, short of killing me outright, to put a halt to my plans. But we weren't to be daunted. While going to a comedy on the night of such a tragedy may appear to some to be in the neighborhood of blasphemy, we both so desperately needed the laugh. And laugh we did. Whether it was a simple release of tension, or whether the movie really is just that funny (my vote goes for the latter), we got what we came for: a release, an hour and a half away from the outside world where we could just be happy and be okay again. Our world was shattered in a few short hours that morning, but laughter could start the process of bringing it all back together again. After the movie came burgers at Goff's, just down the street. Goff's is a funny little place if you've never been there, and serves the best overpriced burgers in town. Only at Goff's did the outside world begin to intrude on me and the girl, and even then we mostly avoided looking at the TV directly. Body counts and speculation were too much for us to handle at that moment. After all, the date was supposed to be about us. The girl? The girl. And what a girl she is. This is someone I don't think I could ever get bored of, someone with so much depth and complexity that she will constantly intrigue me. Every conversation is a new revelation on her depth, every spoken word one more light into her ever-more fascinating mind. We pulled up to her house about 10:30, though we felt rather than said that she wouldn't be going in right away. With the windows rolled down, we talked. And talked. And talked. We talked for ages and could have talked for ages more. Books, poets, music, movies, high school, some things so personal you rarely share them on a typical first date. We bonded. A few hours and several cigarettes later, probably around 3 am, a black and white cat that couldn't have been more than four or five months old came meowing up to the car, and after some coaxing, hopped in and joined the conversation. He (or she) swapped laps between me and the girl for awhile, purring like mad and generally soaking up all of our considerable attention. That span of time sticks out as something particularly special, though for reasons too abstract to assign words to. Around 3:20 my dad left a message on my cell phone telling me to get home right away. Like hell. Eventually the cat, perhaps sensing something we did not, hopped out and hung out alternately on the roof and hood of my car. Conversation between me and the girl continued, never lulling once. About 4 am, excuses for tickling became spontaneous cuddling. It felt so good I was at a loss for words. She made the occasional joke, as is her style, but we held each other like that for a long time. And we kissed. Did we ever. Sweet and slow, fast and intense, alternating as naturally as the tides. For an hour or more we were like this, making quiet confessions, recounting so much time spent together at the bookstore. The floodgates, while not obliterated, had opened up. The line had been crossed, from maybe-date to certain-date. Many other lines, all positive, had also been crossed. We were both quietly pleased with this. The date had to come to an end, much to the chagrin of me and her (probably the cat, too). By 5:30, 21 hours after I woke up to Armageddon, I was back at home and curling into bed for a few measly hours of sleep. Twenty-one hours after the world turned upside down, I fell into sleep, and out of the most extraordinary day of my young life. "Juxtaposition" was the key word here... So many conflicts, so much sorrow and so much happiness. How could I justify feeling so personally good when so many lost their loved ones? How could I comprehend going through the entire range of human emotion in one long day? That day I was two people, spinning around the axis of sundown. Ten hours of uncomprehending horror, a horror that cut deep, right into every human's psyche. The event was a poem written by blood and shrapnel, peppered by tears and anguish. Thousands of dead souls scream out for vengeance, for meaning, for something... And no one, at least not now, can provide what they want. That was day. Night was eleven hours; it began with comedy, continued with good food, and flowered into intimacy in the front seat of my car. Two people connected in such a way that the outside world, both good and bad, was completely left behind. The only intrusion was from a single, friendly cat... And even he (or she) was a point of bonding between me and the girl. The night was a poem written by smiles and kisses, peppered by laughter and purring. Two people reached out to each other, for comfort, for solace, for something... And they got it. How to reconcile the two parts to one day? Both were different worlds. One was empathy, the other intimacy. One was global horror, the other personal bliss. The two pieces of one span of time were as different from each other as the night and day that separated them. A curious sense of guilt wormed its way into my consciousness; it was quickly stamped out by common sense. Yes, the tragedy is beyond description. Yes, the words and images still make me cry. But life must go on. If it does not, if we halt our lives and mourn forever, then the terrorists would have truly won. A thousand clichés come to mind: Every cloud has a silver lining. Hope springs eternal. That which does not kill us makes us stronger. Et cetera, et cetera. Hollow words, maybe, but with a ring of truth. Tragedies are ultimately not about death -- they are about what comes after. Similarly, funerals are not for the dead, they are for the ones left behind. It is appropriate to mourn, to weep, to put your head in your hands and ask "Why?" What is not appropriate is to let such an event stop you from being human. Our senses are numbed, our conscience burdened by the unbearable weight of lost life. Does this mean we stop loving, stop connecting? Should our sorrow so overwhelm us that we leave no room to feel what is good and right with the world? A few nameless human monsters start a domino effect that tears at all civilization, just as a few nameless humans can connect with each other and start the rebuilding of what was so violently taken from us. What is large begins small, the proverbial mountain from the molehill. On September 11th, the world shattered. Screams rose as buildings fell. The day was nightmare and grief from sunrise to sunset, but for those of us not personally involved, night became the reprieve that we so desperately needed. The world got a little smaller, a little less scary. Burgers and movies and all-night talks reasserted themselves as the stuff life is made of. The tragedy never left, and indeed will not leave for several months, or perhaps several years yet... But for a short while, the last 11 hours of the freak 21, the shadows of the fallen twin towers receded. The Freak My Dear Readers, Disclaimer: What I write is fiction/fantasy/fairy tales for adults. None of my characters are real, no one was injured during the production of my stories and just like on T.V., they all get up when the scene is over, have a beer, remove the makeup and go home, ready to return in the next chapter, all the boo boos healed. Some spelling and grammatical errors are mine however some are intentional. Which is witch I leave as an exercise for those anal enough to care. Votes and comments are as always gratefully received. E-mail will get personnel response if you remember to leave me a return e-mail address. Enjoy. Dom Woolf * My sister is a freak, I mean totally. She left home at sixteen, said she had learned all school could teach her, and wanted to see what the world had to offer. She came back at seventeen, sporting a few tattoos and some piercings and some freaky friends who would drop by from time to time. They would disappear into her room and the weird music and chanting would waft through the house for hours. She left again at eighteen and was gone for a year. Now she's back and as before she has new tats and piercings and freaky friends and is back to being that mysterious girl the family sees once in a blue moon as she drifts through the house. I, on the other hand, was the good son, not that my parents noticed me any more than they did her. They are good people, our parents, they just didn't have much interest or time for anything in the world that wasn't work related. I was a straight 'A' student, finished high school a year early and next year would be off to college, but for now I had a long lazy summer ahead and partying to do. My parents left my sister and I at home while they went off on a trip for the company they worked for. They would be gone for six weeks. Did I mention my sister was a freak? Her hair was dyed more colors than the rainbow, her arms, neck, fingers, and feet sported colorful tattoos, god alone knew what else was inked. Her nose had three diamond piercings, her right ear too many rings to count. Her lip and left ear each carried three rings. What other body parts were drilled and filled was anyone's guess. Her current choice of clothes ran to either black jeans and flowing black lacy blouses or black floor to neck lace covered gowns decorated in heavy silver chains, necklaces with ankhs or crosses and rings on every finger. Knee high boots completed the ensemble. Her girl friends outfits made hers look conservative. When they got together the house was filled with giggles, whispered laughter, and sneaked glances. Maybe they were trying to see if their behavior would shock me, if so they had a lot farther to go. A public school education had exposed me to lots more freaky things than sis and her friends had come up with so far. So one Friday night after partying with some friends I got home about eleven-ish, slightly drunk from my buddies kegger. I popped a frozen pizza into the oven, went and grabbed a shower, took the pizza and one of dad's beers and plopped down in front of the flat screen to watch some tube. One beer too many, I crashed. Weird dreams and strange sensations brought me half out of a drunken stupor. I was covered in naked brightly colored girls who seemed to be tying me up and holding me down at the same time. I struggled, at least I think I did but it was not too clear at that time. I know I stopped fighting when I noticed my shorts had disappeared and some multi colored head was bobbing up and down sucking my dick. I shook my head trying to clear both my vision and the cobwebs out of my head and my face slapped against a big soft tattooed tit with bars through the nipples and a shiny shield pointing the nipple straight at my lips. I remember sucking and licking fascinated at the taste of both nipple and silver. It must have taken a few moments, things were sort of blank there for a few, but I remember feeling a finger probing my asshole and then something pushing its way in and vibrating like crazy. What ever it was it made my cock so hard it hurt and between the thing in my ass and the hot wet mouth sliding along my cock I exploded. Things were a little confused there for a few minutes because the next thing I remember was lying on my back and a naked tattooed Goth with black hair and a blue pussy was riding my prick like a horse. I remember, at least I think I do, protesting or mumbling something when another naked pussy settled down over my mouth. It had rings through each lip and a ring outlining the clit and then my tongue was too busy licking and sucking for much else to matter or be remembered. The rest of the night was a blur, all half memories and all confused, with blurred images of tits and tats, ass and pussy, rings and spikes and colors all jumbled in my head. I remembered smoking something and I remembered giggling, wither it was my giggle or that of the coven of witches that held my body and my cock in their ringed and tattooed hands I just can't quite recall. I woke up Saturday morning with the three things all vying for my attention. The first was the worst headache I had ever had, fighting for second place was the most upset stomach and coming in third but moving up on the inside track was the fullest bladder I could ever remember. I stumbled across the room and made it to the toilet before I peed on the rug. Once the snake was drained, the stomach decided to back off a bit and give me some breathing room, which is pretty much what I did for the next ten minutes or so, just sat on the toilet and breathed. Deciding I might live, I checked the medicine cabinet for some aspirin. None. Ok, mom always has some in her bathroom. I grabbed something to cover my ass and went down the hall to mom's room. Lying across the bed were two naked Goth chicks, one of which was the black and blue haired pony rider from my nightmare. Up to that point I had really been hoping it was just a dream. Forgetting the aspirin I went in search of my sister. I found her in the kitchen pouring some juice, she turned and handed me a glass to me along with two tabs of aspirin. I popped them in my mouth and took a big swig of juice. It wasn't just juice. The vodka tainted the sweet just a bit, but at that point I didn't care. "A little hair of the dog that bit ya bro, helps settle the stomach and the head." "Thanks!" It was then that I noticed what she was wearing or should I say not wearing. She had this thong bikini bottom that almost covered her camel toe in front and hid exactly nothing in the rear. Her top consisted of two nipple shields with bars through her nipples holding them in place, a bunch of tattoos and rings and chains piercing her body in places I wouldn't have thought anyone would pierce and that was the sum total of her outfit. 'Yo, Bro. You're staring!" "You're just about naked!" "Didn't seem to bother you last night." She smiled and looked pointedly down at the front of my shorts which I just now noticed were missing a button and gaped open at a most inappropriate spot. I groaned, knowing now that last night's nightmare was not a dream but all too real. "Hey don't sweat it bro. It's not like you could get me preggy, besides so far all you and I did was a little swallow the hot dog. I got preggers while over in Europe, found a doc that wasn't exactly Dr. Kildare, anyway long story short, he snipped a few things he shouldn't have and now the baby factory is short a couple of assembly lines, so now it's all for play and no pay." I don't remember sitting down but found I was in a chair. That's when Tizzy and Dizzy, the other two twits, bounced into the room wearing matching outfits, one g string lighter than my sister's getup. Watching three mostly naked girls bounce around the kitchen, doing things with food was entertaining to say the least. Black and blue who it turned out called herself, Orchid, brought me a plate of food, a kiss and a squeeze of my cock which was beginning to poke through the misbegotten shorts. I scooted the chair a bit closer to the table and began to put away the food, figuring that if I concentrated on my plate, the bouncing female flesh might have less effect. I needn't have bothered as the trio wasn't about to let me ignore them. Pinky, I never did catch her name but the bright pink and red hair was impossible to miss, sat down well within my personal space, and draped her enormous tit across my arm as she finger fed me strips of bacon and bits of sausage. She would wipe her greasy fingers on her big round tits making the brightly colored tats shine. Orchid sat down on my other side and forked a bite of the waffles sis had toasted. She drenched them in syrup and slowly brought the fork over to my mouth. I watched as a huge dollop of maple syrup dropped off the bite and of course it landed exactly where Orchid had planned, right a top of my now exposed and mostly hard dick. The warm liquid flowed over the head of my cock and began its slow trip down the shaft. More bacon, more waffles, more sausage, messily delivered to my mouth, grease, and syrup falling on exposed skin, and dripped onto my cock. Sis pushed my head down on Pink's tit and I found myself licking and sucking a combination of girl, pork juice and maple syrup. Orchid began licking the syrup off my member and Pink and sis began kissing and fondling each other with me stuck in the middle. I admit with a hot tongue licking my dick, I wasn't fighting too hard. Sis grabbed a stick of butter and proceeded to grease Pink from top to well rounded bottom. Orchid took another stick and greased both her and me. The feeling of melting butter and warm hands sliding up and down my cock was heaven. I could feel myself preparing to cum and Orchid must have noticed too, because she gave some signal to the others and all three women were down at my knees and Orchid played fire hose directing my creamy white shots of cum into three open and waiting mouths. Cum dripped from each of their faces and all three took turns licking and cleaning each other and each took a pull from the source of the stream including my sister with a grin as she sucked my cock deep in her mouth and used her tongue to lap at my balls. I think I collapsed at that point having totally given myself up to the women as their sex toy. Recovery included another round of vodka laden juice and more food. Then we all four traipsed off to the master bedroom and the large shower. Showering with three wet, soapy, and giggling women is a experience one must feel to believe. Women as different as these three, made the experience something to be remembered. Orchid had chains in the rings across her pussy, lots of colorful tattoos and tiny almost flat tits, Pink had these large tits with bars through her nipples and the nipple shields had very pointed spikes that she seemed to enjoy having twisted and pressed into tender tit flesh. Sis had a ring between her pussy and her anus, a spur over her clit, small bars north-south and east--west through both areola, besides all the other rings I already mentioned. She had a ball on a spike through her tongue which she proceeded to show me was very useful when sucking cock as the little ball seemed to follow the nerves on the underside of my penis and had me hard again in no time. We four adjourned to the king sized bed, where with my cooperation they proceeded to ride said penis into exhaustion. Mine, not theirs so out came a strap-on dildo and the play continued with Pink fucking both sis and Orchid to screaming orgasms before they fucked and fisted her into unconsciousness. Ok, I admit I helped with Orchid and Pink but I was still a little gun shy of doing anything to overt with my sister. Yes, I had let her suck on my cock, several times as a matter of fact and yes, I had played with her nice sized puffy tipped tits. Why was I holding back? Taboos so ingrained that even though I knew I couldn't get her pregnant, I still froze every time I came close to going that final step. We ordered pizza and several pay for view movies, made popcorn, murdered dad's liquor cabinet, and generally had a great time the rest of the day and into the evening. Pink and Orchid left around ten and sis and I went to our respective rooms and crashed soon after. There is an old Johnny Cash song that starts out; I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt. Now I know exactly what he meant. I didn't have beer for breakfast but I did make up sis's recipe for vodka orange juice and brought her a large glass also. Late that afternoon we were both feeling better and were lying beside the pool getting some much needed rest and sun. "Yo, bro! A little help here?" Sis held out a bottle of tanning oil and motioned towards her back. I squeezed the sun warmed oil into my hands and began to lather her back. She reached around and untied her top so I could get all of her back. I was fascinated by the tats that covered most of her back, including one of a dragon whose tail dropped down between her ass cheeks, most of which I could see as the thong she wore was barely any wider than my old kite string. "Um, that feels so good!" her voice was almost a purr. I continued to oil her well rounded buttocks and upper thighs. She sighed and spread her legs just enough that both her asshole and her pussy were now visible; the thong didn't cover a damned thing. I decided then and there as long as she wanted to play so would I. Oiling up my hands again I began to drip warm oil on the tiny brown ring of her rear end. I began to press and oil her butthole and then slipped a finger into her ass. "Ohhh." I laughed and began drilling her butt with first one then two and finally three fingers adding oil as I went. Her hand reached around and grasped the shaft of my cock through my nylon suit and she started to squeeze in rhythm to my finger pressing deep into her ass. I took my other hand and slipped an oily finger into her pussy, the effect was as if I had hit her with a tazar. She arched her back up and moaned. The top of her suit having been untied earlier popped off those magnificent tits and I used the pussy hand to reach around and grab her left tit. I squeezed her nipple hard and got another moan of pain/pleasure from her. Suddenly she squirmed out of my grasp, flipped over and stripped off the remains of her suit. Spreading her leg she looked at me with her eyes half closed and whispered. 'Fuck me, please, fuck me!' I pulled the suit I was wearing down and crawled between her legs. I grabbed her ankles ad lifted her legs over my shoulders. I positioned my cock at the opening of her asshole and slammed my cock inside. I held still as she reacted, clawing the cushion and arching her pelvis. Then I began long slow deliberate strokes as deep as I could push into her hot ass. I could see now that the dragons tail ended by curling across her inner thigh and up into her pussy, right above my sliding shaft as it plowed into her butt. I began to go harder and faster feeling her asshole squeeze at my cock on each stroke. I knew I wouldn't last much longer especially with the look of wide open pleasure on my sisters' face and the moans pouring out of her fully opened mouth. Knowing how much she seemed to like cum I pulled out just before I came and sprayed my spunk up her body across those tits and into her mouth and face. She went limp rubbing her hands across her body, smearing my cream all across her breasts and belly. I just knelt there watching her and breathing hard. We went in and showered and then oiled each other head to toe before resuming our afternoon sunbathing, our suits forgotten on the pool deck. We pretty much spent the rest of the summer doing the laze around the pool, watch movies, and fuck like rabbits thing. Sometime just us two, sometimes with her Goth girlfriends joining in. The day before I left for college she took off again. She left me a note. Bro, loved the vacation and you. I'm off to tour the Far East, but I'll be back. Love sis. P.S. I'm preggy. Love ya, sis. Did I mention my sister was a freak? The Freak I paused as I passed the mirror & I looked at the image before me. Dark chocolate brown eyes stared back at the sexiness of me. My delectable curves were covered by my little black dress and my fuck me heels. "Damn I look good." I muttered. The doorbell rings & I lick my lips in anticipation. This night was a long time coming after months of teasing; I hope he is able to deliver because I'm horny. The doorbell rings and I opened it to reveal him. He was standing at 6'3" like he said he did. His lips were full and looked good enough to suck on and other things. I closed the door behind and he immediately pushed me up against the door and thrust his tongue in my mouth. I moaned as my tongue tangled with his, my hands gripping his shoulders, his dick pressed against my stomach & I'm grinding up against him. He nips my bottom lip and whispers hello. I licked my lips and said, "Welcome to my home." I gave him a tour of every room except one that the door was closed. He asked what was behind the door and I grinned wickedly and took him inside. Inside the room, a king sized bed with black satin sheets dominated the room; an end table was "innocently" beside it with a few things inside it. He didn't quite understand how much of a freak I am and tonight I planned on showing him a little bit of that side. I asked him to remove his clothes but keep his boxers on and sit on the bed. He grinned and complied with my wishes, we're off to a good start. I turned on my stereo which had my strip & fuck CD inside, with "Motivation" as number one. I stared at him and licked my lips as my hands drifted over my body. I started at my neck my fingers barely touching my skin and then down to my breast where I lightly pinched my nipples through my barely there bra and dress. His eyes narrowed at the small moan I gave out. My hands drifted down to my thighs brushing the edge of my dress, bringing it up slowly, revealing my black thong. Still dancing to the music I remove my dress revealing my lace covered C cup breasts. When Janet Jackson's Would You Mind switched on that's when I got onto his lap and started to grind up against him. His dick was hard and stroking me in the right place nearly had me cumming already. I flicked the tip of my tongue across his bottom lip and he groaned as his hands wrapped around my waist and pulled me close for another kiss that beat the kiss from earlier. Our tongues were fighting for dominance and our moans were increasing in volume. He ripped my thong off of me as I pulled his boxers off him, although it took a little work because I was sitting on him. I grabbed a condom off my end table and got him straight. With no pretense his dick pushed inside my soaking wet pussy, making me scream out in surprise and pleasure. It's been so long since I was filled up like this. I was going to ride his dick like I was in a race, but he had other plans for me. He flipped us over to where I was on my back and he was on top with his dick still buried deep inside me. He ripped the cups of my bra off and took one of my nipples in his mouth as his hips started to work his dick in and out of me. I wrapped my legs around, with one hand on his head and the other on his ass. He was fucking the shit out of me, had me moaning and screaming his name, calling out for God and speaking in tongues. He didn't just move in and out like most guys, he put his hips into rotating them making his dick press into my walls more heavily. I was close to cumming and I screamed it to him. He released my nipple and looked me in my eyes as he started fucking me harder and faster than before. One of his hands left my hip and went to my throat squeezing it gently, not letting the moment go to his head where he wasn't choking the hell out of me. I came so hard I blacked out and when I came to, he was still fucking me and his eyes were closed, head tilted up to the ceiling. He looked down at me and I felt another orgasm cumming and as I came, he came as well. He fell on the other side of me, trying not to squish me with his weight. After a few moments he asked about another round. I looked at him and said that let me serve dinner first. My ass was worn out.