Pop Singer: A Dark BWAM / AMBW Romance (41 page)

JONG-SOO             

Henrietta reached underneath for my ball sack, undoing my pants as quick as she knew how.

Her fingers dawdled around my shaft, and then squeezed up towards my eye, the flanged head.

She pumped down to the sack, squeezed all the way towards my pre-come squirting out over her hands.

She gripped tighter, both hands, pumping up and down, as fast as she could now, pressing her face down along the tip, enveloping my cock.

She twisted her head from side to side, enveloping my cock more and more with her lips, her throat, giving me a shocking euphoric sensation down and up my pelvis.

Her hands traveled across my legs, touching my muscular thighs. She fondled my balls, sucking harder, using the edges of her teeth to make me squirm, pain surfacing, quickly becoming orgasmic.

“I know how to make you feel good,” she mumbled.

She placed her hands so deep against my balls that I thrashed about the bed.

Her mouth shuffled across my cock, sent my arms flailing.

Her hands traveled to my broad chest, where she fondled my nipples, the hardness, the centers.

She sucked on my cock, until I was all the way down her throat, squirting pre-come into her stomach.

She pumped her head up and down my shaft, squeezing tight her throat, her hands on my balls still, lavishing her saliva all along my main vein.

She pumped her head up and down, faster and faster, the ecstasy underneath my skin, euphoria prickling my brain as if I had a tray of ice on the top of my head. My skin had goosebumps all over, and my face had begun to turn warm, flushed hot and heavy with heat, the sensation of her gentle touch.

Her fingertips drummed my cock like a flute, all the way down and then up, leaving space and room for her mouth.

She brought her lips all the way to the base of my cock, sucked deeply, and then vacuumed my dick, making sure all of the pre-come squirted straight into her stomach, bypassing her mouth, making her squirm before me as I was.

“I love sucking your cock,” she mumbled.

“When you’re on it,” I said, “it makes me think of the first time.”

“Mmmm…”

HENRIETTA

The first time is definitely not always the best time.

When I had been with Jong-soo first, I remember feeling scared, and unsure of myself.

Now, I was enraptured by him, totally enamored with his flesh, wanting my body against him. I wanted him to suck me off, but I also wanted to worship him.

“Let me go down on you,” he said, wrapping his legs around the back of mine, and flipping me over. I screamed for a moment, giggling, pushing my hands against his chest. I felt for his nipples again, how tight they were, right there on his broad chest. I rolled my palms around the center, feeling his skin. He bent down lower and lower, and then I placed my hands around his neck, guiding him to my clit, my pussy.

He ripped off my panties, pressing his lips against my hood.

Kissing me, he fluttered his tongue, rubbing back and forth with his fingers my clit and then my hood, the entirety of my pussy.

He sucked, tasting my juices, lapping them up as if I had produced water or fine nectar, and I was practically, the way I squirted, the way I constantly squirted my juices into his face.

I squirted again, and he simply drank it all up, swallowed everything, not at all feeling ashamed of my body.

Some men…

They hated women because they were not the right shape.

Too curvy, voluptuous.

Not the right hair texture for their taste.

But with Jong-soo, he loved my curves, the kinks and coils and curls, the way it was nonstandard, not at all what you would see in the magazines or on television.

My dark skin, he was not afraid of it.

My body, not one bit.

Every single inch of me, he loved to take in with his eyes, his fingertips, guiding underneath my breasts, salivating at the thought of grabbing them.

I offered them to him, and he sucked on my pussy as he helped himself.

I opened my legs wider and wider, squirting more juices into his face.

Jong-soo simply ate me out, nonchalantly, pressing his fingers against my nipples, rolling them down along my breasts, along my waist, feeling my curves and my voluptuous frame.

The way I bulged out here and there—without any shame at all, he loved me for who I was.

And this was probably another reason why I had stayed with him for so long. Why I had not left him.

He treated me better than any man I knew. Was better than any lover I had in my life!

Sure, I couldn’t get away naturally, but at least I had something with Jong-soo. It might have been unusual, but so was our relationship.

I could only imagine what people thought about a black woman being with an Asian man. Imagine us walking down the streets of New York, or anywhere for that matter, even in Africa— we would be an anomaly, a “strange” pairing.

But in the bedroom together, we were perfect, and I could tell by our body language that we would last throughout the years.

Sexual compatibility, personality, we had it all together.

Attraction and fairness.

Treating each other right, as partners should.

“God,” Jong-soo said, mumbling on my pussy lips. He sucked harder and harder, climax right underneath my skin, orgasm bursting wildly at the center of my mind.

“Just do it already,” I said.

Jong-soo nodded, twirling his fingers onto my clit, squeezing out the rest of my juices, massaging his palm into my skin.

I kicked my legs outwards, and I groaned, moaned, and grunted. I squirted so much, an orgasm, and for a moment, I blacked out.

Jong-soo gasped, his lips pressing into my vagina, his tongue hanging around the entrance and then deeper.

Then he came, doubling back over, grappling his cock, and squirting all over me. My legs were drenched in white, white hot sperm. I closed my eyes, and settled into the euphoric sensation washing over my body. He squirted again and again, blasting me all over with his heat.

We gasped, and throbbed there, sitting next to each other, laying together. Jong-soo raised his finger up my bellybutton, and then over my right breast. He said, “I think we should all go to America when this is all over. I can imagine starting a career there, chasing my dream. I could be an actual music star, but without the baggage that I’ve had to carry for so long.”

“You can indeed,” I said. “America is the land of dreamers. It’s a place where people can follow whatever they want.”

Strangely enough, I was beginning to miss my boring suburbia. I was beginning to miss the way things were.

“I wouldn’t mind going back for a while,” I said. “I’m not sure if I would want to live there for the rest of my life, retiring and all that. America can still be a strange place sometimes—it’s not utopia by any stretch of the word—but living there again, well, there are lots of things going on. I’m not sure anymore in the long term if that’s where I want to be.”

Jong-soo hugged me, and he draped his lips down the length of my back. I turned over in bed, pulling the sheets up around our bodies.

Would Bit-na be okay? “I worry about her,” I said. “It’s strange, because if she was anybody back home in the United States, I would have cut her off so quick and gotten her help and then left it to the professionals. But with her, I only feel worse and worse. She’s clearly a damaged person. Not that I want to make her out like she’s a product or an object. But still, she’s the person who’s gone through a lot. And I’m not sure if she can make it through.”

“I worry about her all the same,” Jong-soo said. “She’s the type of girl who likes to put up a front. She likes to appear to people as a strong person. But I know that she has her own struggles—it’s clear that she’s displayed them out before us. Her insecurities. Her past.”

“If I lived the life she did, I’m not sure if I would have made it out of my hometown.”

For the rest of the night, Jong-soo held me close to him, as he did many other nights, but sometimes, I felt him probing me with his cock.

And my pussy lips got warm and hot.

I smiled as I enjoyed the sensation throughout the starlit evening.

Thinking about him…

Compared to all of the other duds I had dated before, he was one hell of a man.

And my dad said Asians were all racist!

JONG-SOO

When we woke up the next morning, I pushed up Henrietta against me, pulling her in against my body. She was like a warm feeling, an emotion, living before me.

Happiness incarnate.

Joy right in my hands.

I touched her nipples, gently stroking the outer edges. She flinched and giggled.

I liked how she responded to me, my every touch on her skin, my sensation and hers combining together like waves.

“Did you enjoy me last night?” I said.

“You’re very naughty,” Henrietta said, still giggling. “We need to go check up on Bit-na, don’t we?”

We went into the washroom, cleansing ourselves and brushing our teeth. Then we stepped on upwards into the main deck, slowly finding our Bit-na sleeping at one of the dining tables.

She woke up when we got to her, bright light in her eyes. Her sharp chin seemingly like a katana. Dangerous, ready to strike someone. She had a vendetta. Reasons for living and for killing.

“How are both of you?” Bit-na said, her voice dark and heavy. She sounded tired, ready to throw herself into a fire pit. I wanted to help her somehow, but how could I reach out to her when she did not even have anything but a fixated point in her mind: taking down Oh-seong.

It was too difficult, trying to corral her spirit.

“I’m sorry if I acted strange last night,” Bit-na said, standing up. We all walked over to the outer decks, watching the waters splash against the side of the ship. Fishermen were all around, casting lines into the sea, maneuvering a large metal crane overhead, doing something with shrimp and nets, bringing on what seemed to be like tens of thousands of little guys to be harvested for their meat. “I’ve definitely not been myself lately,” she said. “It’s something that I struggle with these days, after having been abused and in the Twin Swords. It’s something that’s difficult to reconcile—my past and the present now. And I will admit, that I…”

“What’s wrong?” I said.

Bit-na would not tell us any further. She waved her hand and simply walked away. “I’ve told you a lot already. To tell you more would be to tell you all of my insecurities. And I’m not ready to disclose all of those just yet. But I want you to know—I’m recuperating slowly. Even after the death of Hae-il.”

By now, I had gotten used to the idea of seeing death all around me. So it was no surprise: I could move about and go about my day like normal.

“You’re adapting extremely well,” I whispered to Henrietta, as Bit-na left us. “I thought you would not be able to perform last night because of what you’ve seen. You’ve seen this kind of rough behavior before.”

“Yeah,” Henrietta said. “Sometimes in Lincoln, back where I come from in Nebraska, when I would be around with my best friend, Latasha—I’ve never told you about her—but she comes from one of the poorer neighborhoods. And I would hang around with some of her friends. They would never be a good influence. When we got to college, our lives changed for the better, because both of us were able to influence one another. We built a community for black people—I guess, that’s something that’s difficult to understand from your perspective. Over here, in Korea, people idolize everything American. But when you see what it’s actually like to live over there—things can be very different.”