125972443, adult content, contemporary art, Donald "C-Note" Hooker, erotica, mature audience, mature content, mature reading, romantopia
It is another sunny morning in Los Angeles. I love the DTLA. Instead of waking up to the chattering and squealing of birds, one is awoken by the commotion from pedestrian traffic, buses, and automobiles. Awh, the echoes of the city. I’ve been laid up at one of the newly renovated lofts, former grand and historic hotels from the 1920s. Although formerly dilapidated, they now serve as a part of the revitalization and reimagination of downtown Los Angeles. But this is no ordinary downtown morning, it’s a Saturday, and this will be a day full of out of towners. Yeah, they may be local, out of the Southern California area, well, most anyway, but they are not downtowners. I delight in the L.A. mornings. Nothing can match that Mediterranean like sunshine entering from the terrace. Although I’m up and sitting on the edge of the bed, I am not alone. Someone else is here with me. I survey the comfortable bed that I slept in last night, like the rise and fall of some local sand dunes out in the Mojave, silk bed sheets moved everywhere. But there she sleeps, a light skin. Now how did that happen? Must of been on some serious prowling last night. What was it (I said)? Where was it (we met)? Well, no matter now. She was good, but this is “Just another sunny day in California” as Tupac so succinctly rapped. She’s gotta go. Me too for that matter, if this day is going to be filled pursuing another sexual conquest. But before I go, “Do I want to whett my appetite again with this flavor?” I scope her out; just laying there, like some sleeping beauty, young, tender, and adorable. She musta had more than she could bargain for. I clearly put dat ass to sleep. Look at her! She’s clearly in REM (sleep mode), but not even the warm orange glow of Morning Sun, grazng her naked body is disturbing dat sleep. I stare at her with my eyes moving up and down. First, at her auburn hair; next, her ebony light skin complexion; her young tender ass, she isn’t a big gurl so she is working with very little in that department. Nor does she have legs that go on for days on end. No, she is pretty short in stature. But her most prized possession, that monkey, its calling to Daddy. “Take me Daddy.” “Devour me Daddy.” “Open my insides wide.” I know she wouldn’t mind if I pursue these thoughts. She would be surprised being awoken and all, but clearly one of those pleasant surprises, like a woman opening up a wedding ring box. I’m not a fan of the bald pussy, somehow she is making it work for her, or is my mind being altered from inhaling the odors exuding from our lovemaking? Now I comprehend why she is sleeping so hard. She was taken to such exalted sexual releases, to realms of lewd, uncorked, fermented juices, that flowed through pastors of Earthen sogginess, never experienced with previous lovers. Like a Good Master, I pushed her beyond her comfort zone. I absolutely hate it, when a woman’s ecstasy level suddenly surges to heights that immerses my dick in the sweltering, primordial fluids of her drenched cave, and then wants me to pull out. Not her though, cause I had exerted her to throb beyond her comfort level. She had so many surging, bubbling, secretions, as the dick slowly pushed in. Not dem long strokes, but slight, seeing I was already pushed in to her hilt. She wanted me so desperately to stop. At every instance, she would try to stiff arm my rock hard abs to prevent me from thrusting in deeper, but I just stingingly slapt her forearm away. At first she was taken aback by my sternness, as everytime I pushed my dick further inside her, I wasn’t having any of her attempts at styming this dick to reach the very, very, end, of her portal. Soon, her flesh began to yearn for the pain she felt from the sting of my swats. So much so, it was turning her on. She would feign resistance so that she could watch her Task Master lash her forearm, as tips of fingers, left red bruise marks embedded in her flesh. That was until she felt the tingly onset of a second orgasm. She was all in the throes of her own mind, overwhelmed and consumed with sexual sensations she found too damn pleasing. However, I was going to make damn sure, this time, she wasn’t going to be the only one releasing. This was going to be her round two, but my round one; however, I was going to show her the sexual side effects of her round three, when this shyt gets really juicy and wett. With her sticky cream, and my gooey cum, and no slow pumping, but that really fast track shyt, we’re talking about that Mach 2 shit, where the sound barrier is being violated. Have you ever seen a pilot powering an airplane that breaks the speed of sound, with all that G-force thrusting against their body? Yeah, we went there. Nothing but this young light skin on her knees and elbows, vagina proned up like the neighbor’s dog in heat. She didn’t know it, but would come to realize she would become Amelia Earhart reincarnated, and I would be that G-force thrusting against her body. But that is make believe, and there was nothing make believe about the physical shockwaves that permeated in her body from the mannishness of these male pelvic thrusts. Even I became concerned from the clap, clap, clap, clap, thud, neck-whiplashing, she seemed to be suffering from these hard pounding, pelvic to ass man-thrusts. But one fact I seemed to have overlooked, all this juicy-juicy was even too much for an expert like myself to handle. Even this expert needed the assistance from a janitor’s warning sign, “Slippery When Whett”. I was so caught up in being the fastest dick in the West that I had failed to slow the tempo down, even when I looked at her disappointment the few times too many the dick came flying out that puss. It was a thrust and movement I could not control properly. I wasn’t looking like an expert but a fool. There was no doubt, pussy magic had begun to happen. Her pussy was heating up. The friction she felt inside was transitioning into something else, like a hot, steamy, sauna-nongrana. I could sense she was sensing it too. Like oil and water don’t mix, her womb never allowed the evidence of our previous male and female releases to become coagulations of stickiness. No, her now hot, steamy pussy made sure of that. Now air was the magic carpet ride that propelled us forward to the next step to this climatic climax, since having left being powered by friction and juice. Air friction brings about its own set of sexual experiences. With air, the pussy pops! Yes, when you make that pussy pop, you make that pussy talk. It wasn’t long after this redbone’s pussy started talking that she screamed from the top of her vocal cords. Her body trembled from uncontrollable spasm after spasm. Each sensation’s tremors, were like an aftershock to a major earthquake, bringing with them a tsunami that sent a tidal wave of physical, mental, and emotional sensations to her brain. I didn’t move. I stayed there calmly inside her. It wasn’t about me. Not this time anyway, it was all about her. I just let her and her body work all this out in her head. Finally, she stopped trembling. As her breathing slowed, yet deeper, I pulled out. I kissed her. She still hadn’t quite came out of her stupor. I gently glided her under the silk bed sheets to lay beside me, cuddled her snug, inside the warm bosom of my maleness. Wrapped inside my masculine arms, I lightly kissed her, again, and again. I kissed her sweat drenched auburn hair, holding her in my arms, until she fell asleep.
©2015 Donald “C-Note” Hooker