Un Rápido Molesta (Carrie Daniels-Rdoriguez)

Slender...that's what I would use to describe her. But not that small, skinny, model type. She had the proportions just right for her size. I'd say 5'6....120...flat stomach, slim waist and dynamite legs that held up her tight, stout ass.

She told me last nite that she was mixed. Black...some Dominican...No wonder her skin shone like she had be covered in the best finish. The chick was made as if she was to be bronzed and then devoured.

Short phrases she blurted when the suckle against her nipples would make her feel good.

"Ay, Papi...Hágame me siento bien"

Her lust grew inside my mouth as her body heat grew from my fingers parading up her legs. The pu$$y ran over with excitement as the opening of her lips was moist with pleasure and wanting. The first two fingers slowly pulled the outer lips back as her pink flesh seemed to greet us with little abandon.

I remember having so much fun with this pu$$y last nite. I wined her, attended to her wishes and fantasies...then I tapped that ass like a pimp was supposed to.

See the thing about it is that the "marks" think they are so hip to the game. When they make the agreement, they figure they are going to get exactly what they paid for. You know: Dinner, dancing, a good f**k, and call it a nite.

You know how I've been able to keep my sh*t wrapped so tight all this time???

Because I did more than what she expected or liked. I smashed her walls to the outer limits. I tuned my di*k to her mind and stroked it just as I had stroked her. It was all about the stroke.

She was just as inviting as she had been the night before. The head squeezed into her awaiting space as the girth of my rod stretched her with ecstasy. A sweet moan to brace for the ensuing onslaught, she kept her eyes closed until I reached the end and then she looked at me...and smiled:

"Usted es tan malo..."

"Si'...," I replied.

(To Be Continued)

Dentro de su lugar suave...Part Uno (Carrie Daniels-Rodriguez)

You don't even wanna know where I've been the past month. All you need to know is that I am alive and well. Because that kinda story...Damn...Gotta move along.

She'd never tell it. But I bet the b**ch was feeling like Lady Gaga...talking about how she wanted my love...

Well, trust me. The sh*t ain't free.

I had run into Carrie before. I just couldn't put my finger on it. The Twelve in Atlantic Station, maybe? Twist? Duggans???

Maybe my brain was going bad. Or maybe it was those black, liquid leggings that she had on as she stalked around the club some hours before. I normally didn't make it a habit of staying with a "mark," but she was the first piece of young pu$$y that Colony had set me up with since I got back in town...so...you know...

F**k it...Yes, I laid up with her. Damn...

You don't know what that s**t was like. Being ducked off like some kinda fugitive. Hiding out from place to place like some scared ass kid running away from home. Colony had me all over the middle of nowhere, peeking around corners and looking out for anyone suspicious who might have been looking for me.

See, here I go...telling you sh*t you don't need to know. Hell, I prolly shouldn't even be writing this down. Maybe it was the lure of the story. The danger. The intrigue. The money...

I will say this though, when you f**king with Colony, you better tighten that sh*t up. She doesn't play about her money....especially if you were messing with her golden goose--ME.

Carrie slinked back into the bed besides me. She had on these low-key specs, kinda like Mrs. Manning, my 10th grade business ed teacher had. Actually, Carrie was a teacher. Taught some language class to some Hispanic students...Korean...f**k, somebody's students. All I know is that when I slipped my hands around her little succulent C cups, sucking her mocha brown nipples like a hungry young lion cub, she moaned out some of the sexiest Spanish sh*t I had ever heard.

The b**ch could've been saying "Ni##@ I hate you;" but looking up at her slender face writhing in delight, her lusty pink lips pressed together...her squirming said "More...please..."

Her roaming hands slipped between my legs...jackpot!!!

A sudden sigh left her mouth. She wouldn't even have to pay this time. She knew what she was gonna get...where she wanted me...

Dentro de su lugar suave...

(To Be Continued)

Sex Therapy...Part 3, Open Wide (Adrian)

The deeper she looked into my eyes, the tighter her grip on my rod became. The blood in my system rushed to my shaft as the took her free hand and ran it down my sides and along my ass. An exhale followed a slow, long stroke of my manhood. She was pleased.

"Now, doctor, since you are so used to asking others questions, how about I ask a few of my own?"

A dear-in-headlights look must have been her way or saying that I was messing up her flow. But it was all a plan. Somehow, even my regulars still can't tell that when you f**k with Braylon Davis, there is always a plan...and I am always in control.

"I'd rather not be questioned," she replied. "I'd rather just have you."

Lusty trick...You'll have what I want you to have. And you will enjoy what I give you...

She grabbed me tighter, looking to invoke some type of control, yet with another flick of the tongue, her mind fell back into my trance. Her eyes rolled as we were now pressed upon the other and she began to kiss my chest.

Roaming finger dipped below the hem of her blouse to tug at the button holding her black skirt in black. Not that I cared much for bikini briefs, but she looked damn good enough in them. From what I was told, it was a comfort thing.

I cupped her sweet, firm ass with two hands. Not once had she tensed up, trying to stare me down again so to not lose control. Little did she even care to evaluate that I had already won the battle, and I was seeking to win the war of the flesh.

"Braylon," she stopped me in mid exploration. "I'm not some type of whore like the ones you met in the club. I have my own mind; and although what you do I find somewhat horrendously fascinating, you're not going to fu*k me like some whore that pays you because she's looking for the attention."

Smart girl...but not smart enough...

With a swift whip of the hands, I grabbed Adrian by the arms and stuck my writhing tongue down her throat. See, what the chicks with money fail to realize is that regardless of how independent you may want to be or are, your pu**y is a tool. The problem is if the ni**a wanting to use your tool is bold enough to take it...strong enough to control it...raw enough to master it to do his bidding. Any clownd*ck could fu*k and bust a nut, but if I didn't give this bi**h a good showing, the real problem she had would be worse than what it already was before I propositioned her.

"Now what you are going to do, Dr. Praylo," I said loosening my grip on her arms before hoisting her up to straddle my waist, "is whatever I want."

"See where you have me first fu*ked up at is that you think I'm going to make you pay for this d*ck. Wrong. You got money already and probably lots of it. So if I wanted your money, I could've fu*ked you like the whore you often want to be, knocked your ass out, and robbed you."

I had her attention now. Dropping her on the couch, I stood over her. My penis sat up at attention, strong enough to plow through a wall...preferably hers.

"Secondly, you're a freak. You have your degrees and your commendations and such. But you didn't study sex and theories about it for years just so you could tell people what's wrong with them."

I was hitting the nail on the head. With each spewing truth, her fire burned. I had now lay between her legs, basically stealing her essence. The noises her pu**y made were faint like that of a dog whistle: Only I could hear them.

Easily her panties came off as I broke down her psyche. She wasn't in tears like some of the sensitive hoes I had encountered, but she was concerned yet excited that someone could figure her out. She was probably tired of me talking and waiting on me to either feast on her steamy, hairless lust cave...or at least finish undressing her.

The waterfalls of her body splashed around as a finger probed her womanly channels. It was still daytime and much light to be had on the fourth floor office so I couldn't help but notice the odd, yet seemingly enticing mole that lie on her bubble gum-pink clit.

Mmmmmm...mmmmm...good.

Sex Therapy...Part 2 Continued (Adrian)

Adrian's eyes grew wide as she wasn't sure to stay in the office or wait outside for the guards.

"You can't expect me to believe that you've never seen a man naked in your office before...For heaven's sake, you're a sex therapist."

Ashamed I was not to be in her presence, stark naked with only a smile to greet the good doctor Praylo upon her return.

"I have," she replied. "I'm just not sure why you are."

Who the f**k does this chick take me for???

"Well, Adrian, you have a problem..."

Another frown. I must've insulted her.

"Excuse me??? A problem with what???"

Second mistake: Facial expressions tell more than what most folks want others to know. If you can read someone's face, you can basically diagnose the real issue.

"You have a problem," I replied. "The way I see it, you help people who want to work on their sex lives...people who either want to try to find ways to have better sex or ways to curb their urges to have more sex when it becomes a problem that effects their progress in becoming functioning members of society, right?"

She tried hard not to stare. She was probably taught by a man, maybe a father or an older brother, a teacher even, to always look a person in their eyes. That she shouldn't stare no matter what. That staring was a sign of disrespect. Yet, I could feel her stalking ever inch of my body in her mind.

Yes, b***ch, I came to your office strictly for the purposes to sex you. These abs aren't going anywhere. And the d**k is no imitation. I was built to please pu**y. Look all you want because you're either going to thank me or hate me later.

A buzz came from the phone's intercom system. "Dr. Praylo..."

That must've been the cue that the guards had arrived. Time was ticking as if she could get to the door...

"Just a second, Paula."

Adrian moved closer. Watching her approach, I instantly flashed back to the club when I approached her at the bar. She was upfront about the basis of her intentions of being in a place like that, knowing that sex was more of a leisure activity that could be bought for the right price. She said she wanted to use her experience for a book that she was writing. As cool as she tried to play off my offer to be apart of her research, it was no coincidence that she had left her card at the bar for me once I had left to tend to some business that Colony had summoned me for.

"So, Mr. Davis, you seem to have me all figured out."

F**kin' right. There was that aggression I was looking for. Chicks like her, who want to be the best at their profession, always tend to have issues with control. And when a man who is of equal mind capacity calls their bluff, the more a certain pseudo-male bravado comes out...just to see if the person doing the calling out is capable of making good on his threats/bets.

Not yet fully aroused, but very much excited, I pressed closer to Adrian. Her sweet breath floated near my nose as she looked up and positioned herself to have direct access to my lips...

"Dr. Praylo," Paula interrupted again. "You have a package at the desk."

She didn't have no damn package at the desk. The old woman was just trying to get her out to take care of this issue with the guards. Can't get mad though. She was just doing her job.

"Paula, please sign for it for me. I'll get it in a second. Disregard what I said earlier."

Ever seen one of those cartoons where the snake is trying to hypnotize it's prey and their eyes start to swirl? I could feel her heart beat. I could hear her pu**y get wet just by listening to her breathe. Now that was some pimp sh*t...

"So doctor, while you're diagnosing all these addicts and self-deprived lust buckets, who diagnoses you???"

She leaned up to kiss me. I never gave her my rules on kissing, so she should have gotten a pass, right? F**k no...

"What do you mean," she said. "I don't need anyone to diagnose me..."

How's about I try this again. Seductively, I traced her lips in a teasing manner. Her anticipation for me to fully engage her gave her some indication that I was going to dive into her opening lips and take her.

Wrong again...

"Adrian, I think you should be a patient...that you should see someone to help you..."

She liked my game. Her petite hands loomed near the shaft of my rod, not yet grabbing me but anticipating that she would be able to grab and take it at a moment's notice. She needed that sense of some type of control as the more I probed her mind for answers, the more anxious she got.

"And I take it that you would be the one to diagnose me, Mr. Davis..."

If she didn't know by now what a sly smile and a hard di*k meant, she must really have been hurting for a squirt.

Easily, her hands slipped over my hardness. Her soft skin brushed against the tight skin of my shaft, caressing the beast I was set to unleash on her.

"Yes ma'am," I replied before teasing her lips again only to gently bite her soft bottom lip. "But no more, Mr. Davis..."

Just call me B.A.D.


(To be continued)

Sex Therapy...Part 1 (Adrian)

The middle aged white woman sitting at the desk looked me up and down before attempting to even ask what I was doing in the office. Part of me wanted to check her and tell her something very ugly; but then again, no telling what type of people she encountered on a daily basis, so I figured it was just force of habit.

"I'm here to see Dr. Praylo. She should be expecting me."

As the woman fumbled around her desk to find the appointment book and inform the good doctor that I was here to see her, I quickly studied her mannerisms...the things around her...things that would likely attempt to lighten her mood.

PAULA ERNST

45..maybe 50. Ring in the middle finger so she was married. The wrinkles on her face meant only that she may just be one of those badly aging white people, she smokes, or stress from family life.

"And you name is what again, sir," Paula rechecked.

"Davis...Braylon Davis."

A slip of her face might have been a concern as the doctor's reaction may have tipped her off that I had come in without an appointment.

"She'll be right with you."

Sweetly, I winked at Paula. "Thank you, ma'am."

I hadn't even sit down yet to wait when she peeked her head out the door to see me.

The look of shock on her face was subtle enough as to not alarm Paula that I was unannounced, nor was I hear to really have an appointment with the doctor...at least the kind she normally conducted.

"Mr. Davis..."

From what I could remember at the club, she had calming, dark brown eyes, but the closer I got to her, I got the sense of one of those "what the hell are you doing here" moments.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," I said as she closed the door behind us.

Now the real stuff...

"Um...Braylon, Mr. Davis, or whatever your name is..." she said. "I'm not sure how you found me, but I'm not sure how appropriate this is with you coming by my place of business and interrupting. "

I was barging in. And I truthfully knew exactly what I was doing when I walked in the door of her practice and told the receptionist to call her and announce that I was here. Now I understood her concern, but I was here on a pleasure call. Might take a second since she's one of those intellectuals and she'd probably be trying to dissect me in her head as we spoke, but little did she know.

"First off, Adrian..."

She must have not liked to be referred to by her first name when supposedly on business. Maybe she didn't notice the slight frown when I called her first name, but I was well aware of it.

First mistake...a complex that is ushered in by a fear of not having enough authority in her role as a professional.

"Dr. Praylo, it is..." she replied.

"Yes, ma'am..."

For a few minutes I engaged her about her work, slyly playing off the fact that she really didn't want me to be in her office or that she may have just been uncomfortable at the fact that I may have been assessing her as well.

It was more so small talk. About her life...her practice...her book she mentioned to me a few nights before at the club. It must've been aggravating as she gave some pretty short answers. Maybe the reason she came to the club was to experience the culture, the "life" I live. The sins that get me paid...

"Mr. Davis, I'm sorry could you excuse me for a second?"

"Sure."

Her leaving was just my cue. If I guessed right, she was probably going to tell her receptionist to get the building's security to come and escort me out. Yet, and again, if I guessed right...and my plan works...Adrian A. Praylo would be most compelled to take me on as a patient.

The Pleasure Principles Rule #1: Conversation

Any man can pull out his d**k and stick it in a woman. Hell, my 13 year old cousin, Chris, can do that. You wanna be a major player in the "skins" game (and I ain't talking about golf), you got to bring more to the table than what you got in your pants. Say the average man can really hold himself maybe 30 or 40 minutes, right? Cool. But in my experience with women, and the business of profiting off their pleasure, you f**k a lady that long. You stiff a bi**h or a ho with a hard batch of d**k, 10-15 minutes tops, and you send her on her merry way. That's just the way of the world.

Yet, where does the money come into play?

Hold on, my friend...I will get there.

Haste will obviously be your biggest problem.

When you f**king with a LADY, especially one in a metropolitan city like Atlanta, you have to realize that d**k comes a dime a dozen. She can toss a quarter in the street and hit a ni**a that wants to f**k within the first 5 minutes (if that long). He could be a pizza delivery guy...a dope boy...a CEO of a Fortune 500 company...or another bum ass ni**a.

You...you're just ordinary. A 9-5 job...a $25,000 car...barely enough $$$ to get into a decent club, let alone VIP.

And yet, how does she choose?

Conversation.

It's what separates all men. The type of women I serve as clients to my business automatically know they can use their money, power, and pu**y to get anything they want. They stalk the grounds like a confident man does when he enters a boardroom knowing he is about to seal a big deal. They laugh at meager attempts to buy their affection or time by offering to buy rounds of drinks for her and her girls. And when they go home to their empty condo or to their limp-natured husbands, the one thing they forgot to ask was:

How was your day?

The power of engaging a woman in a decent conversation is almost like a lost art; however, when you are able to hold your own on topics ranging from politics to religion to sports to the Wall Street Journal, a woman will gladly pay for that. She is intrigued by a man that does more than peer into her blouse to get a peek at her breasts even though they are clearly showing. She checks your intentions before you even walk over to her, yet mix a tantalizing convo with a bit of charm, and the fire is already lit within her inner walls.

She rides your d**k like there is no tomorrow. She sucks, f**ks, and bucks you like she hasn't had a man in years.

It's not that she can't have it. It's not that she can't get it. It's about a man who is pleasing to the mind. Not that physical aesthetics aren't just as pleasing, but with d**k being so easily available, being able to ease her mind with meaningful banter rather than barbaric advances of lust is worth it's weight in gold.

And I do mean GOLD....

Ask about me.

B.A.D.

Rolling Like a Big Dog: Pays to Be Me...

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her flowing mane bounced around at each buck against her waist Thunderous beatings against her backside echoed the living room. Dyci bucked like an animal trashing around in a cage that didn't want to be in. It was like the more I pounded her, the more punishment she wanted to receive. It wasn't as if I didn't normally f**k her for the top dollar piece of ass that she was, but when she was "rolling" on the "E," Colony's baby girl and number one money trap was a beast on that D.

I had popped a few pills when I was in college. Hell, even now, I tossed a few back in recent years, but it wasn't something that I just had a regular habit to get on it. This bi**h that met in college...one of those black girls who grew up with a bunch of white people, doing white people sh*t like dating redneck white boys with mud tires on their pickups or play club soccer in high school. But she was a young, freak b**ch and she liked to bang, especially when she was on "E," so why not try it.

"F**kitf**kitf**it," mumbled Dyci as her back sweat ferociously from the onslaught. When you pop pills, the high gets so intense that you can f**k for hours and not bust. Nigs hear stories like that all the time, but they truly don't know until they've been there.

It may have only been thirty minutes or so but it seemed like we had been going for hours. My pelvis was so raw from the constant banging that I just wanted to...

STOP.

A deranged and confused Dyci gave me a blank stare as I had abruptly whipped my d**k out and walked over to the refrigerator to grab a bottled water without so much giving her any kind of warning.

"What...what's wrong?"

"D, I'm tired...sh*t, I'm hot."

Dyci seemed to float as she pulled up next to my side and grabbed my penis.

"Oooooh, baby, I gotta finish," she pleaded. "Just a lil more. Get me off."

Druggie b**ch.

You know those scenes in those ghetto ass movies like New Jack City where the addict really pours it on thick for a hit of the dope...well, that's how Dyci was acting.

Now I would always be proud that my di*k is probably like none of the tricks she took for their money, but then again, that ecstasy gives you this adrenaline rush ten times faster than anything because it was one of those 2 in 1 type drugs - speed and the lowest grade of coke.

All the signs where there, and while I preferred to just come crashing down from my high, Dyci continued to jack me standing up, hoping that I would give in and just continue to smash her.

"Dyci, chill, baby girl..."

She wouldn't be denied even with another resounding decline of her wares, dropping to her knees on the marble floor and polishing my knob like some kind of slutty maid. Her lips rippled across the length of my wand, bobbing back and forth as if her face had the energizer bunny built inside. Dying from the pleasure, I wanted so bad to let go in her mouth. Probably would've choked her with all that damn build-up. Again, I had to stop...

"No..."

I had seized her face in mid slide and held her head at waist's length, just enough that she couldn't do any more damage or even worse, clamp her teeth down on my d**k and hurt me.

Sad puppy dog eyes...B**ch, that game works on a nigga paying you for pu**y.

An evil twinge groped my loins as I attempted to ease away from her mouth. She knew that I was stubborn so as i slowly slid out, her lips complied with my demand. 3/4 of me was out when suddenly I rammed back into her orals and pounded my torso against her face. You could imagine the delectable horror in her eyes as she looked up at me and wondered where this had come from.

"You like when Daddy does that, don't you..."

A moment of "what the f**k" had seriously struck Dyci. She must have been thinking "I may be high, but this nigga must be out of his f**king mind..."

But her pu**y tingled as I didn't give her to much more time to think, pounding her mouth again as I had banged her before.

Silence...

Another bang...then more silence...

"You like???"

Lust braced a smile against her filled jaws, hoping that I would just continue and stop teasing her...

"Mhmm," she moaned.

While I toyed with her, Dyci, feverishly rubbed hit clit, trying to figure out which was the more feasible of the two if both needs weren't getting served simultaneously.

Jokingly, I laughed in her face and took another sip of my water. "I should get paid for some sh*t like this."

As if I already wasn't from my other clients.

There was that stare again. And this time it was harder.

Dyci quickly caught her bearings, got up, walked over to her jacket, and fumbled around for a few seconds.

"D...come on. I'm just messing with you."

She stalked back over to kitchen counter, slamming her hand against the granite counter top.

500 dollars...

Dyci? Offering me money? Was it the drugs? Was she fed up with...

Watching her brace her leg against a bar stool, the pink lips of her womaness looked as inviting as it always have. Her drug-induced rage had her groping her own breasts like a horny man would...

My mind raced with the beat of my heart as a rush of blood kept my manhood at attention. The only time I ever heard that "all money wasn't good money" was when I used to play dominoes with my drunk ass uncles.

So B.A.D.