For some reason, during sex, I seemed to always try and calculate my next move. Sure, shit would come natural...I mean, I was good at what I did--or at least well enough to get paid handsomely for it.
The wetter her pu$$y got, the more she moaned her Spanish phrases, the less I wanted to stroke her like a woman. Something cerebral about words and sounds had always been buried within me. It was this animalistic nature pulling at my mind to screw her like just another piece of pu$$y, like some rabid dog in heat.
One thing I had learned in this life: Women wanted to be loved and respected like a lady...but they often yearned to be fu**ed like whores.
Now it wasn't a control thing, nor was it all about my ego. I just found it to be a simple fact that these women who look to employ my services prefer the wine and dine for a while, but a slutty-type romp tends to release more of that supposed tension she has built up--or, at least, that is the lie she told.
The longer strokes began to get shorter as each thrusting pound sent waves against her caramel colored a$$. The ripple effect was like looking at rocks skip along clear water, her cheeks returning to their original spot as I ransacked her space.
"Ay...," she moaned.
Her flailing auburn hair splashed against my face as my beast tore down her pink walls. The gorilla press against her ample, bare box got louder and so did her moans. Having fu**ked Spanish chicks before, I could make out some things but I could've sworn the b**ch was speaking in tongues while I tore it up.
A spark tingled my loins with each crash against her a$$. I could feel her legs tremble beneath me. Not that she told me that she was coming, but could've sworn a gushing stream of pleasure push forth upon the latex sheath of the Magnum I had on.
Her head began to spin in somewhat of a circle. The hot spunk deep within me boiled and rushed towards the head as I was in serious "rape" mode. I grabbed a hand full of her hair and gentle placed the other hand underneath her neck. Sensual asphyxiation...basically, a light choke, to fake a sense of cutting off the air to enhance her sense of an orgasm. Hard for her to talk, I could still hear her utter something...
"Jódame...Jódame!!!"
"What???"
"Jódame...Jódame," she began to yell.
I couldn't take it anymore. A swift grip of the hips and the rage had become a reality. Three more lust filled thrusts against her backside released the bum rush of semen against the latex barrier. A jungle growl followed. She lay there on the bed...face down...her a$$ slight spread with a sliver of that pink showing. It still looked tight but the wear around the protruding lips let me know that a ni**@ had done a good job. The b**ch was still breathing at least.
I walked to the bathroom to clean up, only to look back at my handiwork. Carrie looked up at me with a sly smile across her lips. Daddy must've done a good job.
It was already 11 am and I literally fu**ed the day off already.
All I do know...is that my money better be on the nightstand when I get back.
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