Option D: Lay on top of her and romantically kiss the back of her neck

Lay on top of her and romantically kiss the back of her neck 

You climb on top of her. “That feels so good honey. Gosh darn. If I wasn’t Allah’s honorable disciple I would let you ravage my pussy baby, but it’s best this way, it more romantic.” She really emphasized the word romantic disgustingly. “I could rape your ass at any time, hun. But I love you too much.” She giggled lovingly. You weren’t prudes. I mean, fuck. You were smart but just didn’t trust this world. You were different. You were raised in a different culture that demanded temperance. You were human and all sexed up and mostly expressed it through talking about it. You placed yourself so your dick was up her but crack, but you had on tighty whities and G-strung had on a g-string so you were all heavenly pure in that religious fanaticism kind of way that made your dick ultra-spiritually hard. Shit. You fit in G-strung’s crack perfectly and your pressure on her soft bulbous hardness felt insanely great. You could bake jizz cookies in her cunt oven you were so in love with her, but you would wait until it was god’s gracious goodness to gloriously, appropriately, and legally anally bake her chocolate cunt cookies. Instead of using your dick as a paddle in her cutely inappropriate cunt hole, you pressed your chest down onto her back without pushing too much weight onto her demure top half (how did this delicate torso hang onto that bad-ass booty of a bottom half, it was mathematically improbable), and buried your lips in her weave spread out over the nape of her neck like Hokkien noodles and kissed her tenderly until the hairs on her neck stood up. “Oh, honey, I love you. When we are married I will use my pussy like a washing machine over your cock. You’ll see. It will be the Kama Sutra’s Helicopter over the Congress of the Cow with a side of Splitting the Bamboo for you, baby.” You leaned forward and found her lips. You brushed some of her thick hair off her face and your tongues met and you French-kissed deeply. You were so on the verge of cumming. You could feel her engorged clit through the fabric between you. It was pulsing, trembling, a small sexual earthquake. She was humping the floor. You could just jizz so easily you thought of other things. You thought of pi, then of dirty toilets in the old train. Your orgasm subsided a tick, but it was still right there on the precipice. She climbed your tongue with an intense suction until she hung from the back of it, in your mouth, breathlessly. Then her hips stiffened. She went dead like a fish after it’s all flapped out. You increased the pressure of your cock in its undies in her ass crack and that released the cum-kracken. You spurted down her ass crack (in undies, of course. Safety first). “You’re the best,” she said and rocked until you fell off to the side of her and nuzzled up into her smelling her cocoa and coconut funk butter until you drifted off to sleep.

Unfortunately, not getting dick in pussy was making you go a bit mad. You couldn’t continue like this. You loved her but you needed sex. It was a biological fact. The more you thought about it the more you justified it to yourself. As you walked around town, every hot chick you saw was further proof that you would get yourself some ass by hook or by crook. You decided that she must feel the same way. In fact…

…you found that somebody else has devirgined her (Carter)

…you let someone else give you sex



Choose your own SEXcapade © 2015 by Moctezuma Johnson

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for all the futa fans of batman 

she has a two-toned gun
the slick-skinned slut criminal
she’ll use the fucking thing
she’s got the jester’s PVC cap
the bells ring
red and black
as her clit
her nipples bulge
on her big
slippery tits
her dick rings
as her bell
mushroom-like and juicy
it busts
its veins
its cum tube
all over
the cat woman’s mask
and matching black lipstick
as her red hair billows in Gotham’s wind






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