Sun Burst Pt 2

Bootylicous

 

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…

Must Watch Web TV!

So apparently the answer to what I will write now that I’ve found celibacy is: not so very much! Sorry about that loyal readers. While I work on getting my groove back, please enjoy my favoritest webTV serieses!

First we have Lez-B-Honest Definitely check this out & watch all the episodes! Don’t be put off by the early production issues, it only gets better as the series progresses!

Have you come up for air? Now watch Between Women, Again, stick it out through early production issues.  Also Trigger Warning for domestic violence in some of the later episodes.

Welp, until next time! Enjoy!

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)

Upstairs (Meet DB Pt 3)

Start the night.

light brown femme and a dark brown person cuddling

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!

Meet DB Pt. 1

20111228-082406.jpg
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.

A man and woman spotlighted grinding on the  dance floor

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