Gettin' Buck Wild: Sex Chronicles II (3 page)

He began to shiver, and I sensed that he was about to explode, so I released him from my mouth and started licking up and down the shaft. He was a stranger, and allowing him to cum in my mouth was out of the question, no matter how much I yearned to taste it. I finished him off with a few seconds of handiwork, and when he came, we both watched it trickle down the center of my chest with delight.

“Damn, woman! I knew you were something when I first saw you!”

I did not comment. I just stood up and told him, “Your turn.”

He did not hesitate to get on his knees, place one of my feet on the side of the tub, and bury his tongue in my pussy. I threw my head back into the stream of water, raised my arms, and grabbed the showerhead so that I would not slip.

My pussy had been an entrée a few times, but never an all-you-can-eat buffet. Not until that day. He ate me until I came all over his tongue.
Twice!

We were washing each other off when the hot water finally ran out. We giggled as we leaped from the shower, struggling to share the same towel to dry off and not freeze. I finally yielded the towel to him and ran into his bedroom, burying myself under his black comforter.

He jumped into bed beside me. “Let me have some of that.”

“You have the towel.” I leaned over and kissed his shoulder. “And you can have me, too, if you want me.”

“Oh, you know I want you.”

He climbed on top of me and started sucking on my neck.

“There is one condition,” I said, trying to refrain from laughing because I am ticklish on my neck.

He looked at me. “What’s the condition?”

“You have to wear a raincoat. The last thing I need is to catch something. Especially pregnitis.”

He chuckled. “Pregnitus?”

I slapped him gently on the chest. “Yes, you know what I mean.”

He got up and retrieved a condom from his top dresser drawer. I sat on the edge of the bed, opened it, put it in my mouth, and secured it on his dick. He was impressed with me, and so was I. I had wanted to apply a condom like that ever since I saw it on cable television. In my humble opinion, I did one hell of a job.

I pulled him onto the bed and straddled him. “I want to be on top,” I said.

“Whatever pleases you,” he said.

I leaned down and gave him a kiss. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

I guided his dick into me, and it filled me up. I had to pause a moment to let my body get used to the size of his invasion. Then I started moving slowly as he palmed my breasts and squeezed. I lowered them to him so that he could suck on my nipples and got into a rhythm.

After that, we did not speak another word for an hour. Not while I was riding him. Not while he took me from behind and pulled me back deeper onto him by grabbing my hair. Not while we pleased each other orally again. Not while I dipped my fingers into myself and let him suck my pussy juice off them. We just immersed ourselves in the experience.

He fucked me to sleep, and by the time I awoke, I could see the sun setting from his bedroom window. I glanced at his alarm clock, and it was after seven. I felt behind me, where he should have been, and found emptiness.

I got up from the bed, wrapped a sheet around me, and walked out into the living room. His hand was buried in my purse.

“What are you doing in my purse?” I lashed out at him.

He turned around, startled. “Nothing.”

I stomped across the room and grabbed it from him.

He laughed uncomfortably. “Do you honestly think I would try to rob you after what just happened between us?”

“No.”

I dropped my eyes to the floor and set my purse down. I suddenly felt ashamed because that is exactly what was running through my mind.

“Go ahead,” he insisted, picking my purse back up and shoving it at me. “Check and make sure nothing’s missing.”

I set it back down and caressed his cheek. “I apologize for sounding accusatory. I’m just a bit nervous about all of this.”

He pulled away from me and plopped down on the sofa. “I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping you would be totally relaxed.”

“I am. I mean, it was great. You were great.”

“Great enough to see again? To see on a regular basis?”

There it was. The dreaded question that I had hoped would not surface.

“I can’t,” I replied, deciding honesty was best. “You and I are from two different worlds, and people in my world just wouldn’t understand.”

“Why does it matter what they think?”

I sat down beside him and pondered on that. “Good question.”

He took the sheet off me and teased my nipples. “Tell me your name.”

“What’s in a name?”

“My name’s Julian.”

Part of me wanted to tell him my name, my history, my goals, my desires. The other part, the sensible part, told me to just seize the moment. So, I did. I seized the moment, and I seized his dick, taking it into my hand and rubbing the shaft to prepare it for round two.

“Let’s do it again, Julian.” I lowered my head to his dick. “Maybe this time I’ll tie you up.”

I never saw Julian again. I went back to my daily grind, working on overload and staring out at the people enjoying life in the park. He had placed his telephone number in my purse that day. I guess he had sensed that I would not be a woman to take chances. He was my complete opposite, and it never could have worked. It was still pleasurable to have just one day without judgment. It was still pleasurable to find out what happens when opposites attract.

He’d been out there for more than an hour, messing under his hood. He seemed well prepared, but he was obviously lacking one thing: a cell phone. The rain was coming down in sheets, banging against my roof like bullets. There was no lightning or thunder. Just the rain, but the rain was more than enough to make the situation extremely uncomfortable.

I couldn’t see him that clearly as he hopped in and out of his car every five minutes or so, probably trying to warm up before trying something else to get his car moving again. One thing was for sure: he was built. He had on a white muscle tee that was hugging his body something fierce. I could make out his physique thanks to the street lamp about twenty feet from where his Ford Mustang had broken down. Lickety-split, the man was thick.

I felt kind of guilty. I have no idea why. I’m sure most of my neighbors saw him stranded out there as well. As quiet as my neighborhood is, something out of the ordinary rarely goes unnoticed. Still, the fact that the brother was out there struggling on one of the worst nights, weather-wise, of the year didn’t sit right with me. What harm would it do to offer to let him make a phone call, loan him a flashlight, or let him warm up by my gas fireplace for a moment?

I had on nothing but a knee-length flannel nightgown, a present from my mother, who was always worried about me catching colds even though I was well into my thirties and had been independent for more than a decade. I went to the closet in my foyer and found my London Fog overcoat, quickly throwing it on and sliding my feet into a pair of rubber rain boots.

I was about to open my door when the phone startled me. It was like something out of a horror movie, the loud ringing serving as some sort of warning not to go outside, or the Boogie Man might get me.

I snatched the receiver up on the third ring. “Hello.”

“Hey, Kimmie, it’s me!”

“Me who?” I asked coldly. I knew it was my ex-boyfriend Mike but played dumb anyway. I didn’t want him to think that he could phone me at will and get me excited.

“This is Mike.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? Is that all you have to say to me?” he asked.

“What else would I have to say?” I replied. “I haven’t spoken to you in weeks.”

He laughed into my ear. “Kimmie, I haven’t called because I figured you needed some time to calm down. That immature tantrum you threw the last time I saw you was totally uncalled for.”

Now it was my time to laugh. “Immature tantrum? I’m not the one that tried to bring some
Jerry Springer
–type drama into the mix. You had some woman calling my office demanding that I stay away from you.”

“I didn’t tell that tramp to call you,” he said with disdain. “I don’t even know how she got your number in the first place.”

“Obviously, she got it from you. Even if it was indirectly. I’m just glad she didn’t find out my home phone number, because it really would have been on.”

“Forget her.” He got quiet for a few seconds; without question trying to strategize his next move. “I made a mistake, Kimmie. I had a weak moment. What can I say? I’m all man.”

“Is that the best you can do?” I yelled into the phone. “What can I say? I’m all man?”

I moved the curtain aside on my front door to see if Mr. Built was still out front. He was, poor thing.

“Kimmie, how about I come over?” Mike asked. “It’s raining cats and dogs, and I know how horny you get in bad weather.”

He was right. I was horny, but not desperate enough to allow him back into my temple. “Why don’t you call your piece on the side? I’m sure she’s down, the way she was sweating you.”

“I don’t want her. I want you.”

“Too bad.”

I slammed the receiver back on the cradle and grimaced so hard out of anger that I got an instant migraine.

I’ll show his ass, I thought. I swung the front door open like a woman on a mission. I stomped across my front porch and right down my steps, pulling the back of my coat up over my head to protect my recently permed hair from damage.

“Excuse me!” I yelled out from the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street from where the brother was parked. He looked in my direction, and I could finally make out his face. I was not disappointed.

“Hello there!” he responded loudly. “Bad night!”

“Yes, it is! Do you need to use the phone or something?”

He came closer to me, and once he got within a few feet, I knew I wanted to fuck him. I’m typically not whorish, but there’s a first time for everything.

“A phone would be nice.”

I turned around and went back up the steps. “Follow me.”

Once inside, I asked him, “What’s your name?”

“Randall. Randall Davis.”

I reached out to shake his hand. “I’m Kimmie Thompson.”

“Nice to meet you, Kimmie, and thanks in advance for your hospitality. I kept hoping that someone would be generous enough to offer a brother some help. You guys sure don’t get much street traffic around here.”

“No, it’s rather quiet.” I took in every inch of him with my eyes. The tight white shirt was damp and exposing every single muscle. He had short dreads, a dark complexion, and long, sexy eyelashes. “You could have just knocked on someone’s door.”

“Well, Kimmie. I thought about knocking on a door or two, but in this day and age, you never know what you might find. Most people are so suspicious, especially of us brothers, that I didn’t want to cause a ruckus.”

“Most of the people around here are extremely friendly.”

That statement was true for the most part, with the exception of “Queen Bitch” across the street. I have never seen a nosier woman in my entire life. Talk about not having a life. I had a cookout once, just once, because I am not big on having functions at my house. People don’t appreciate or take care of your shit, and I can’t afford to have people messing up all the stuff I work so hard to pay for. Anyway, the bitch across the street took it upon herself to sit outside on her porch with a pair of binoculars and peep everything that was going on. She went up and down the street with a pen and pad writing down license plate numbers and made all of my guests nervous. I won’t go so far to call her a racist, but she is white. I have seen my other neighbors—all white—have events, and she wasn’t out there recording information. If Randall had mistakenly knocked on her door, she might have called the police on his ass—for real—and reported a prowler.

He looked like he was freezing in his wet clothing, so I asked, “Randall, would you like a blanket or a dry shirt?”

“A blanket would be fine. As petite as you are, I doubt I could fit into one of your shirts.” I thought I saw a flicker of lust in his eyes as he said that. At least, I hoped I saw lust. “Unless your man has a shirt I can borrow.”

I blushed. “I don’t have a man.”

He flashed a smile. “Oh, come on. A sexy young woman like you has to be taken. I’m quite sure you don’t live in this big old house all alone.”

“Actually, I do.” He started trembling even more. “I’ll be right back, Randall. Let me go grab that blanket right quick.”

I ran up the steps to get a spare blanket out of the linen closet. While I was there, I decided to do some quick coochie maintenance. A woman always has to be prepared for any kind of sex, including oral sex. No man wants to get down there and wonder about your hygiene practices. I freshened up with a towel and soap and hit it with three sprays of feminine deodorant until only a fresh powder scent invaded my nostrils.

When I got back downstairs, Randall was standing by my mantel, checking out the photos of myself and my family.

“Here you go,” I said, handing him the blanket.

“Thank you.” He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and then pointed at the pictures. “You must come from a very large family.”

I giggled. “Yes. There are eleven of us altogether.”

“Where do you fit in the chain?”

“Right smack in the middle. I’m number six, so I have five older siblings who think they know everything and five younger siblings who think I know everything.”

Randall laughed. “I bet you had one hell of a childhood.”

“Between all the bickering, jealousy, and competition, it had its moments.” I pointed to one picture of myself and three of my sisters, dressed alike. I was about twelve at the time. “Momma always had this thing about us wearing the same exact clothes to church on Sundays. We hated it because it took away our individuality.”

“I bet you all rebelled before it was said and done.”

“Boy, did we!” I pointed to another picture of myself in college with hair so short that you could almost see my scalp and an earring in my nose. “You see how I spent my college years, don’t you?”

We both laughed.

“Very sexy,” Randall commented and then gave me
that look.

I turned away from him; I didn’t want him to see the desire in my eyes. I was beginning to have second thoughts about fucking a complete stranger.

He must have sensed the tension. “Kimmie, can I make that phone call now?”

“Sure. I’ll get the phone.”

I went to retrieve the cordless from the kitchen. When I came back, Randall had turned on my gas fireplace. He looked over at me and said, “I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” I replied, handing him the phone. “Make yourself at home.”

Our fingers touched, and we both let the contact linger for a moment. There was electricity between us.

“Why don’t I go make a pot of tea? Be right back.”

I went into the kitchen to put the kettle on while Randall made his call. I heard him fussing at his automobile association. Apparently, they were understaffed and had several other motorists in the queue ahead of him. When I returned with a pot of tea on a tray with two mugs and some vanilla wafers, Randall looked disgusted.

“Didn’t go the way you wanted, huh?” I asked.

“They have a sorry-ass company. Can you believe they told me it could take as long as four hours to send someone?”

“Wow, that is a long time.”

Randall looked at his watch. “I don’t want to impose on you that long, so once I drink my tea, I’ll go wait in the car.”

“No!” I exclaimed, regretting the desperation in my voice. “I mean, you don’t have to go wait out in all that bad weather. You’re welcome to hang out here until they show up.”

“Sure you don’t mind?”

“Positive.”

Randall and I hung out for the next few hours and got to know each other better. It turned out that he was a guitarist in a hard rock band. I couldn’t even imagine listening to hard rock, rather less playing it, but Randall managed to sway me a little bit. He turned to a cable station and encouraged me to watch a few hard rock videos. Even though I couldn’t make out half the things they were saying, it wasn’t half bad. I have never been one to plop down in front of the television and watch music videos anyway. I always find myself disgusted at the rap videos that feature women demeaning themselves. I often wonder what their parents think when they appear ass-out on the TV screen. I doubt that they felt even a hint of pride.

Randall looked at his watch for the fiftieth time. “I guess they’ll be here soon.”

“I guess so. Sorry that you had to spend so much time with me, but I have appreciated the company.”

He took my hand in his. “To be honest, I keep looking at my watch because I don’t want them to come anytime soon. I’ve really enjoyed tonight, and I hope we can see each other again.”

I used my free hand to rub up and down his thigh. “I was hoping you would say that.”

He gazed into my eyes. “Kimmie, I have to be honest. I’m kind of torn right now. I’m extremely attracted to you, partially because you’re so nice, but mostly because you’re fine. I must admit that nothing would please me more right now than laying you down by your fireplace over there and making love to you.”

I moved my hand farther up his thigh and started caressing his dick. “Then why don’t you?”

He tried to keep his composure, but a moan escaped his lips just the same. “Because I don’t know what tomorrow might bring.”

“Tomorrow is guaranteed to no one.”

“This is true, but I have this band thing going, and hopefully something will materialize soon, which would mean traveling a lot. I’m not so sure a relationship is in my best interest right now.”

“Randall, we just met. I’m not trying to hook you for life or anything. Who knows? Tomorrow we might wake up and find out this was all a dream.” I started to unzip his pants. “All I know is that I want you.”

I pulled his dick out and ran my fingertips over the head of his dick. It was every bit of eight inches long and had just the right thickness. I admired Randall’s dick so much that I told him, “Your dick’s beautiful.”

He threw his head back in laughter. “I’ve never had a woman tell me that before.”

“Well, now you have,” I said as I got down on my knees. “Just relax. I invited you inside from the rain. Now I’m inviting you inside of me.”

“Umm, I can’t wait to get inside of you.”

I tugged on Randall’s pants, and he helped me out by lifting his hips slightly from the chair.