Quit Running (Meet DB Pt 5)

Start the night.

I fished a condom out of my coat pocket, noting to my consternation there were two in the box, not the three I thought I had packed.

I leaned back on the bed as she maneuvered the condom over the monstrous head of her cock. There was a time when I was just as good at putting on a condom as I was at fellacio, but well…I was just as glad to have her do it.

I admired the smooth lines of DB’s head and broad brown shoulders. Her breasts hung in mid-sized triangles over her muscles, more like man tits than you’d expect on a woman. Unless she was a very masculine woman.

A masculine woman like DB. I don’t know what it is, but the sight of her sent warm tingles through my body and set my heart racing fast.

My eyes traced a path over her pleasantly thick stomach to her belly button and then flicked up, meeting her eyes and seeing my desire reflected there. Feeling her wanting me.

I spread my legs wide and DB leaned into me. She smelled of cigarets, cheap shampoo and her body’s natural spiciness. From force of habit I squeezed the tip of the condom before she slid inside my wet, swollen pussy. Its slid in smoothly to my openness.

I can’t really explain why having strap-on sex with a woman is so much more amazing to me than cissex with a man. Except it’s about energy. Sex is as much about merging and exchanging energy as it is about the physical mechanics of moving in and out.

When a woman’s fucking me, her dick is just as much an extension of her as a man’s. And my body responds the same–only better, more. Like every cell in my body is singing:

Yes! This! You! More! Now!

She drove into me fiercely and my broad hips bucked appreciatively. As welcome as it was, the dick also had that coldness that straps can have, and it’s size, well, it was a bit large and unyielding. She pounded inside until she finally found that sweet spot.

“Ah, ah ahah” I shrieked as DB hit that spot deep inside of me again and again.

DB appreciated my hollers for a minute before giving me a scornful look and slamming her hand down my mouth. The force and aggression of her hand sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body as I writhed silently underneath her.

After a bit she backed off and pulled out. Without thinking about it I went up on all fours, presenting my wide pale ass to her. She crossed the room for a drink, then came back and got back to work.

She thrust forcefully inside me–and it was a little too much. As good as it felt my hips jerked involuntarily forward with each thrust until my hips were pressed up against the fitted sheet.

My wig came off in her hand and she grabbed my chin-length hair tightly, pulling my head back. My body arced like a bow under her weight.

“Quit. Running. From me.” she grunted, thrusting unrelentingly.

Her strokes sped up until her body shuddered in ecstasy against me.

To be continued…

Password?

So, I’ve finally finished writing part 5 of “Meet DB” and I already know there will be a part 6 and part 7, maybe even a part 8. I’ve been threatening to password protect these posts as they get more explicit, but keep publishing them regularly anyways.

I feel torn.  On the one hand, I’m writing more explicitly and intimately than I have before, and a part of me wants to keep it semi-private. But a part of me also wants to keep it public, so that more people read it.

I’m fairly sure that even if I don’t protect part 5, I will protect part 6. What do you think? What’s too much information to have in such a public space? Where should the line be?

And what should my password be? (Email or DM me password ideas PLEASE!)

Just Because

OMG I Soo Don’t Even Talk Like That!

So, not to sound racist, but this is so fucking funny, watching her, it’s almost like she’s not black! She’s kinda cute for a white girl. She could get it!

To see more of Chesca Leigh’s videos, go here. I know I am!

I Have a Store

I’ll get back to my super steamy night with DB-but first–I have a store!

It had to be said!

So I have no idea if anyone would want to spend $18–38.95 on a T-Shirt, but some people might consider it an investment! Available for studs, femmes, queers and kinksters!

Also, for that slow-moving lover in your life:

At less than $3 these cards are the perfect way to let your lesbian love know that you appreciate her taking the time to get to know you! Perfect for Valentines Day!

Head (Meet DB Pt. 4)

Start the night.

I Just Really Like This Picture

DB walked back in with a big brown dick bobbing between her thighs and stood in the middle of the room. The harsh yellow light played against the brown skin of her broad shoulders and made her wife beater look off-off-white.

Her dick was about eight inches of latex chocolate , with a truly massive round head at the end. I got off the bed, kneeling before it. She pressed my head towards it.

“But…a condom…” I protested weakly.

“It’s clean.” She gave me a look like come on now. I knew I should use one but at the moment my giddy mind was unable to find a reason to put an extra layer of latex between my mouth and that big piece of rubber.

I took the monstrous head in my mouth, fighting my gag reflex as I let it go as deep into my throat as possible. Every time it hit the back of my throat I gagged. The faint smell of rubber wasn’t helping any either!

She tried to guide my head but I stopped her. I know from experience that I will throw up giving head if I’m not in control--and that’s not sexy at all! I used to be quite good at giving head–there’s a rhythm to it if you can get your breathing right–but I was sorely out of practice and couldn’t quite find the groove.

“Here, use your hands too–I can feel it on my clit.” she said, guiding me…but I was thankful as we moved on!

“Can I grab your hair?” She asked me as my clothes came off.
“Um…no…it’s a wig.” I touched my long curly red-brown locks.
“Man!” She sucked her teeth, “you have too many rules!”
“Well–I reconsidered–you can pull my real hair.”
“Okay! If the wig comes off it comes off!”

I nodded agreement…

This post was published without protection. But the next one won’t be! Contact me for the password!

Upstairs (Meet DB Pt 3)

Start the night.

Up three flights of poorly lit, dark-paneled stairs, the room was bare and cold. A double mattress sat wearing only a sheet in one corner of the room. One orange clog sat forlornly in the middle of the floor while it’s mate rested in the open closet. A tattered curtain moved desultorily in the window.

I went to close the window as DB tried the television, but despite the cable remote on the bed, all she could pick up was static.

DB stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, scowling at the accommodations.

“We don’t have to do this, you know…”

“it’s okay.” I smiled, leaning back invitingly. “Come here.”

She came into my arms, thick body heating me instantly so I had to take off my coat!

We tussled for a few, then she excused herself for a minute. I stretched back in the bed and took some puffs off my chillem.

To Be Continued…

The next post will be password protected, so email me at bigmama2x @live.com or mention/DM me @JustanothaWW to get the password!

Say What Now? (Meet DB Pt 2)

Start the night here.

In this post I violate Rule #1. Don’t try this at home kids!

Sitting there in the car in the dark, DB told me there were some words she wanted me to say.

“You want me to do what?” I responded, grimacing distastefully.

“I want you to say it.”

“Um, ok…” I leaned forward, admiring her tight fade and the contrast of her diamond earring against the smooth dark curve of her neck, inhaling her warmth as I hesitantly whispered the words she had asked for in her ear, barely pushing the words out;

“Give me that big nigga dick daddy.”

I leaned back in my seat, searching her eyes for a reaction.

“How did that feel?” She asked me.

“Um,” I made a face “It went against everything I believe in. Did you like it?”

“No,” she considered, “I didn’t have to work hard enough for it.”

I was relieved, frankly. Yes I’m usually attracted to black women, but I think it’s because they’re beautiful, and maybe because of early childhood conditioning, not out of some perverse racist desire to violate taboos.

“That word does get in my head though, from twitter and friends.” I confided.

“Like, how’d you mean?” She asked, leaning back casually in her seat.

“Like, I’ll think to myself…I haven’t talked to my Dad in a while–I should call that nigga!”

She threw her head back and laughed.

Just then her sister got home…

Meet DB Pt. 1

I met DB online. I knew the moment that I saw her picture that I was attracted to her: hard jaw and soft cheeks, thick, juicy lips and just a hint of black hair on her dark chocolate dome.

It was clear from our first convo that she just wanted to fuck. Which, like, was okay with me, because as a single Mom anyone I talk to goes on one of two tracks : marriage or sex. (And women are not exactly lining up for the marriage track.) There is no such thing as “casual dating” and until I find Ms. Right, I was determined to enjoy the fuck outa Ms. Right Now!

She greeted me at the door with a Cheshire smile. Her 5’5″ frame was pleasantly full under her baggy men’s clothes. I knew she was trouble.

“Can I borrow some money?” She asked as I walked in the door.

Hell-to-the-mother-fucking-no!

But I kept talking to her.

She was thick, she was fine, and she liked me.

On our second meet-up I picked her up and drove her across town to her spot–a room in her sister’s house we could use for the night.

It’s a good thing she gave good directions, because it was all I could do to focus on the road as she reached out to stroke my breasts as I drove.

“You know it’s entirely possible that this won’t be any good.” She said, withdrawing her hand.

“What do you mean?” I asked, rolling my eyes in the darkness. Was this her idea of game?

“Well…I cum really fast…”

“I guess,” I said, sucking my teeth, “you’ll have to take care of me first”

“See there you go!” She threw her hands up in playful exasperation.

To be continued…

This Time Last Year

So, um, last year this happened:

This is a re-post of Feb 5th, 2011. At the same low-key event I went to this past weekend. Only that night was packed with people waiting in line three stores long. Start the night here.

Like This But Not

I made my way to the stage, where there was a spot waiting for me. I tuned out the world–riding the beat.

Before long a couple studs and a femme came onstage. The bigger stud was dancing nearby with her girl, and the smaller stud took up a post almost directly behind me. Now Instead of tuning the world out all I could think of was her behind me, hopefully admiring my ass.  It felt like such a primal mating ritual, me dancing for her, but I couldn’t stop. Finally I got tired of waiting for her to make a move and danced up to her.

She pulled me almost immediately into some of the hottest grinding I’ve ever experienced. My hips locked against hers as we moved against each other–energy pulsing back and forth between us.  Before I knew it my leg was between her thighs and her hand was on my ass…my hand was on hers, seeking desperately to touch her through her clothes.  Our bodies arched frantically with the music, although every time it sped up we backed off a bit and bounced with it, pretending that we were doing something other than  fucking right there on the dance floor!

Before I knew it I was asking if she had a girlfriend and she was telling me she had her apartment to herself for the weekend.

Before I knew it my lips were locked with hers, my hips gyrating with hers, tongue rolling with hers.

“What are you going to do for me? She asked. I didn’t know how to take that question, so I slithered down her chest suggestively. Although she was putting more effort into downplaying them than showing them off, I could tell she had nice titties. She pursed her lips commandingly at me, and I attempted to meet them with my own.

I say attempted, because she had her hat down low, and was about four inches shorted than me. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever kissed someone who is significantly shorter than you and is wearing a low hat brim forward, but it’s not easy. I had to contort myself around her lid.

“I can’t do this.” I told her, “It keeps hitting me in the head.”

“I can’t take it off,” she said, taking it off. “I gotta big forehead.

“Well, I said, surveying her wide forehead and sweat thick smiling face. “I like it.” I kissed her on the forehead and she got all bashful, putting it back on, but this time cocked to the side. Yay, I thought now I can kiss her without getting wacked. But somehow when her head turned back to me the brim was back in front.

I turned around and pressed up against her. The music raced to a feverish pitch and I came along with it–right there on the dance floor!

I paused to fan myself with my hands. I don’t know how she wasn’t hot. The whole underside of my hair was soaked, and I was wearing a tank top. She had on a blue and white flannel and a white down vest.  (Yes she was wearing plaid–but it looked fly on her.)

“Would you like to go to the bar?” She asked me.

“What are you trying to say?” I responded cautiously.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Sure.” We started walking towards the bar. She actually led me by the hand! No one ever did that to me before!

“Oh wait,” She paused. “I don’t usually come here…is there an ATM nearby?”

“There’s one next door.”

“Could you…?”

“I don’t have any cash either.” (Totally true, I brought $12 and that already paid for two beers and a generous tip.) “I am really thirsty, though.”

“Some water?”

“Sure.”

She ordered me a water and thoughtfully handed me a napkin to go with it. We talked for a moment, then she looked up across the room.

“I gotta go talk to my friend. “

“Okay, I need to visit the Ladies…meet you in a few?”

“Sure, I’ll be over there.” She motioned with her chin.

When I got out of the bathroom I didn’t see her immediately, but I didn’t worry about it unduly. I pulled my friend outside to chat. Heat steamed off our bodies in the icy night.

“So I saw you grinding with that stud.” She smirked at me.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet back up with her in a minute–”

“Oh really? Because I think I saw her leave–”

“You what?”

I raced back inside. But it was true, she was gone. In the three minutes that it took me to squat over the toilet and wash my hands, she had dashed.

Continue the adventure with “Second Chances“