Sun Burst Pt 3

Start the night.

Sun pressed her soft wet pussy into my mouth, clutching my arms up in the air. For five, ten minutes I was in heaven sucking and licking on her savory second lips. Eating pussy has to be right up there at the top of my favorite things in the history of ever. Words can’t express how much I enjoy eating pussy!

I was going at it with a passion. But then my neck started twinging.

The way Sun had my arms positioned I was unable to get the relief I should have had from this position. I could have kept going and going but instead the pain once again mounted.

I tried to move my arms to get more comfortable and that’s when I realized that she had me in a submission hold.

I struggled to free myself but she had me locked down, immobile. Gripping me tight even as I struggled to break free, she pressed her pussy into my mouth as wave on wave of pain shot from my spine through my forehead.

I tried to cry out but she smothered me with her pussy. I was helpless underneath her.

“Shut the fuck up!” she grunted.

My whole neck and face seized up in pain and panic as my whole body fought, thrashing and sobbing for freedom and an end to pain.

“Shut up!” She humped me angrily,

My mouth opened to its widest involuntarily and then tried it’s best to close. It took every inch of will power not to bite hard on her clit, but even with the pain she was putting me through I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her or damage that glorious pearl.

And then she let me up. She looked almost surprised at the naked agony on my face.

I lay, traumatized in her arms. Somehow still wanting her to touch me. Wanting her to hold me. But most of all wanting her to care enough not to hurt me.

I had liked her dominating me in the past, but I thought underneath it that she cared on some level. That if I wanted to stop she would let me. I guess I was wrong.

I went home determined to never see her again.


Sun Burst Pt 2



Start the night.
Sun closed the door and stripped to her purple silk bra, presenting her donk to me imperiously. It was a true thing of beauty: her thin waist opening up to a thick, round chocolate heart.

Gazing at her thick brown ass all that I wanted to do was press my lips against it. After being celibate so long it was almost startling to realize that  I could act on my desires.

I knelt behind her, pressing my mouth into her squeaky clean ass. OMG it was good! I worked from the back to the front and she moaned softly as my tongue grazed–then enveloped her clit. I felt a kind of shock as my mouth fitted to her pussy–as if it wasn’t so good. It tasted good, but the vibe was a little off. I prayed silently to myself that I wasn’t making a mistake.

I worked and worked on her, licking and sucking her sweetness until my neck sent me a warning twinge and I realized I could not do this position long. (I have chronic neck pain, and have to switch often, but I will go for as long as it takes!)

She was just getting into it when the pain got to great for me .

“Can you…ride my face..?” I panted. She glared at me but reluctantly got up and bestrode my face, holding my arms up awkwardly…

Sun Burst Pt 1

Ghetto Booty Cartoon

Check out my earlier adventures with Sun.

Sun texted me out of the blue.

I knew what she wanted and knew from the instant flood of blood away from my brain that it was what I wanted too. Angry at my lack of control in the face of my New Years Resolution, I drove from my white suburban hide-away to back to one of Boston’s “black” neighborhoods.

This time the street was empty as I approached her house. Three story apartment complexes crouched together to form a wind tunnel and the cold breeze bit into my skin.

The front door lock was busted so she told me to come on up, light turning on with my step.

Sun was a hot mess at the door: 2 inch army-style stilettos, curve hugging jeans barely maintained by her belt which hung sloppily over and her belly hanging out of her tight camouflage shirt. She gave me a look that was barely a smile and waved me in.

Seriously? She couldn’t even fix herself up a little bit  knowing I was coming? And why was she dressed for the club if she asked me over hours ago?

Her friend was there: thick, brown skinned with a black weave. She was dressed for the club too.

“Man fuck all that standing in line.” She complained bitterly about not getting into the club.

Sun nodded and rolled a blunt. We passed it as they dished about the night and their mutual acquaintances. I despaired of getting any quality time alone with Sun and low-key hated myself for wanting her so bad, but even dressed sloppy ghetto her body shined: her ass cleavage was hypnotic, as was the curve of her breasts as she sucked in the pungent smoke.

I felt powerless in the face of my desire. Wanting her more than anything but fearing she would dismiss me, afraid to ask. My tongue tied from speaking by the presence of her friend and Sun’s closeted status.

And then her friend left.

To be continued…

Fake Bash

A Teen about to hit another boy

Two young teenaged boys walked by holding hands as I pulled into the  parking lot. On the right, the skinny Indian-american boy was smiling. The young fair-haired boy he was holding hands with looked slightly embarrassed as he met my eyes. I have to admit I was surprised to see two slightly jockish young boys courageous enough to express their affection in public, but it was pretty cool–I thought.

As I headed into the Boy’s and Girl’s Club, the two boys met up with six-seven other boys. They were talking and laughing as friends. I was about to enter the building when I heard a yell.

I turned around and saw the Indian boy on the ground with a large muscular teen wailing on him.

“You have to stop that now” I hollered, walking across the lot towards them. The tall brown haired jock moved away with a guilty smile.

“We’re just playing!” He Told me.

“Is this a game?” I asked the swarthy kid on the ground.

“Yes.” He was laughing, unhurt.

“It’s time to stop. This is not funny.” I said, at a loss for other words, and to my surprise, they did.


I Don’t Wanna Be A Playa No More

A dapper white butch licks a burlesque white femme.

I wrote this in January. Shortly before the new year. It’s taken me this long to publish it but I stand by it. Have been working at standing by it.

What goes on in the mind of a playa?
Well, she’s always talking to at least a couple of women, with two or three more “prospects.” Every outing & event is an opportunity to get more digits.

Each “relationship” is a delicate balance of sexual intrigue and studied indifference. The party who cares or communicates more looses.

Life becomes a dance of texts and dates and quick replacements. A date cancels or is on her period? Quick, pick up the phone and you can be in another’s arms.

Hot sexual encounters are brief pinnacles of pleasure against stark valleys of emotional distance, the feeling that the women you are dealing with really just don’t give a fuck.

Casually broken dates, text messages not returned, lovers turned cold, each rebuff is a cue to go back into your contacts for the next conquest.

Lust and a deep, unquenchable loneliness coupled with hurt and anger that these women–the ones you won’t let close to you–also treat you with casual indifference.

That and a deep uneasiness that you will never find “the one.” That the acts you go through to keep these women as placeholders in your bed while you search for “the one” are changing you to make you someone “the one” wouldn’t want.

All this is in the mind of a playa. All this has been in my mind.

No more. I’ve let my contacts lapse. Every day I fight the urge to text women who have expressed an interest in me.

Like a fiend in withdrawal my lips long for clit and kisses, my breasts for caresses, my pussy for tongue and penetration…

My fingers remind me that women are out there…that with the right combination of words and circumstances we could be climbing that mountain of ecstasy…

But then my head reminds me of all the hurt and loneliness that surely will  follow.

I know that I’m weak, that one DM, one text, one “extra” smile, and I might just jump foolishly back on that wheel. But I’m trying not to.

I didn’t set out to be a playa. I didn’t become one over night, but I can stop the cycle.

I will.

My apologies, dear readers, if my blog dries up but…

I don’t wanna be a playa no more.

(Time to invest in sex toys…)

Just Because: (Dirty Version)

Going Home (DB pt 9)

Start the night.

Orange Haired Abstract Femme

Afterwards, I wanted to cuddle, but she pushed me away.

I understood why she pushed me away–the threat of catching feelings after sex with a near stranger–but the chemicals in my brain demanded cuddles!

Three times I reached out to her and three times she pushed me away.

We got dressed, I put my wig back on and we headed out into the night.

“So, did you cum?” she asked, somewhat bashfully, as I negotiated late night traffic.

“Um…” Did I? My mind flashed back to that moment she pulled out…to be honest I had been so caught up in the intensity of the experience and my pleasure in her orgasms that I hadn’t given any thought to my own…or the lack thereof “I’m not sure. What did you like the most?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“The anal” she checked my face for reaction.

“I liked that too.” My face flushed at the memory. “I was also…kinda surprised at the difference it made without the condom-I mean I know it’s all rubber but it’s –” I got flustered.

“More intimate?”

“Yeah…I felt more connected.”

“That’s why I wanted to do it–I understand why you wanted the condom but–” She shrugged, and I focused on cursing out crazy late night drivers.

“You wanna do it again?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”I wondered if she’d let me buy my own dick for round two?

“Yes!” she pumped her fist towards herself victoriously.


“So, I know you’re white–but are you one of those ‘natural women’?” DB asked as I pulled up at her Grandma’s house.

I knew what she meant–“natural” black women are those beautiful proud women black women who rock natural hair, debate politics and often advocate for education,  healthy food, natural medicine and black pride–woman pride–human pride! Human rights. Respect. Self respect…

So, a mentality close to my heart.

“I’m sorry–it looks like that question upset you.”

“No, it’s ok.” I responded. There was nothing I wanted more than to say ‘yes, that’s what I am!’ —

But could I really rep #TeamNatural while wearing a wig?

Protected: DB Pt 8 (Same Password–Just Ask!)

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