Drinks with Michael
Ah…. no work today. I have several days off after closing on one of my biggest commissions ever. I love being able to work when I want, and not when I don’t.
So… I met Michael for drinks after work a few nights ago, having texted my husband a few hours earlier to let him know where I’d be.
From my memory of what happened, still fresh in my mind… kinda burned in my memory, actually… this will give you an idea of what Michael is like, and why I’m so intensely attracted to him.
After drinks, Michael… being Michael… wanted a blowjob. I would have given him one right there in the bar if he had asked me to. But he had other plans.
Instead, he had me walk with him to the parking garage. He had parked way down on level E, where it was pretty much empty at that time of night.
Getting out of the elevator, we walked for a ways, around the corner. He took out his key fob and hit the button. His car chirped in the distance, the headlights flashing. It was… I’m guessing… maybe fifty feet away or something. It was far.
And then he stopped.
“Give me your purse, and take off your shoes.”
I did as he asked.
“Strip down to your panties for me, and hand me your clothes.”
I was reluctant, looked to my left and right, and behind me, to see if anyone was around. The garage was silent, no one there except us, although I momentarily thought about the likelihood of cameras.
I did as he asked. And he kissed me. Deep. Long. Sensuous.
It was a little cold, but not freezing. But still, not exactly comfortable naked temperature.
He put his right hand on my ass, and his middle finger in the crack, and pulled me close to him. Something I really love about Michael: the way he kisses me like he’s known me forever.
Then lowered his head to take my left nipple in his mouth, and gently sucked on it. And nibbled. It was already hard from the cold.
“I want you to wait here. I’m going to walk over to the car. When you see me turn around to face you, I want you to drop down to your hands and knees, and crawl to me.”
I didn’t even think about resisting him. I didn’t want to.
Now… crawling on your hands and knees, on a cold concrete, for fifty feet or whatever, isn’t as easy as it sounds. And it hurts. I was careful to keep my feet up so the top of my foot wouldn’t touch or drag on the floor, but my knees were screaming at me. Especially… those random tiny fucking rocks that dig in!
But I did as he asked.
When I was about half way there, my knees already scraped up and hurting, Michael called out and told me he wanted me to kneel upright, with my hands at my sides, and wanted me to do the last part just kind of walking on my knees like that.
With my full weight now on my knees, I knew they were really going to get marked up and bruised, but that’s what he wanted.
I did as he asked. Slowly. Carefully.
When I finally got to him, he was leaning against and sort of sitting on his car.
I knew better that to just stand up without permission.
Thankfully, he motioned for me to rise up, but then told me to take off my panties, and to stand up straight, with my legs together.
As I stood there in front of him, now totally naked, with my ankles and knees together, touching, he not-so-gently put his hand between my legs.
I knew better than to open my legs for him. He had previously said “legs together, ankles and knees touching,” and Michael is always very precise in his instructions.
He put his hand just below my crotch, in the small space below, like a knife through a crack, and moved his hand up to my vagina, and cupped it, as if to protect it.
“What kind of pussy do you have for me tonight, baby?”
“Tight and wet and creamy.”
He put his finger in me. Then another one.
“Do you get this wet for the niggers, too?”
Now THAT question, and the language especially, kind of shocked me. Michael doesn’t normally talk like that. But I think that’s also why he said it like that.
“Ummm… yes, sir.”
“You been missing it?”
“What are we going to do about that?”
“Let me have some?”
“You want some nigger dick, baby?”
That word again! ”Yes.”
“You’ll do anything for it?”
“You have someone in mind?”
“That man you call your bull? That Johnny?”
“What does that mean, exactly? This bull thing?”
“It means he fucks me really good. Like my husband can’t. Pretty much whenever he wants.”
“What… like he’s your stud, or something?”
“Something like that. He’s my bull stud.”
“You prefer fucking him over your husband?”
“That was a quick answer. Why? Details?”
“Ummm… I love black cock better. It’s just my thing. My nasty little habit. Johnny’s cock is nice and big and thick. He’s really aggressive how I like. He fucks me really good. Always. He stays hard forever. He can fuck all night. He makes me cum a lot. He’s mostly always available.”
“Why don’t you like fucking your husband?”
“Well… I love him… but he has a really small dick. Way too small. He always cums too fast. And goes soft right away.”
“Is your husband a cuckold?”
“Because you made him one?”
“Yes. But he kinda likes it.”
“That’s because your husband isn’t a man, is he?”
“Well, he is a man, he’s male.”
“That doesn’t make him a man. What is he? What’s that word you call him?”
“Yes. That. Is that a name you gave him?”
“What does it mean?”
“It means that he’s submissive to me. He attends to my pussy needs. Pussy pleasure comes first. Lots and lots of oral sex. That he’s my cuckold. That he licks and cleans me up after.”
“After I’ve been with another man.”
“Does he enjoy that?”
“Mostly. Not always. It depends.”
“Do you make him do things that he doesn’t want to do?”
“Because I enjoy it. I love to control him. I love the game. It makes me feel powerful. Make him do what I want.”
“Like fucking him with a strap-on?”
“How often do you do that?”
“He gets it a lot. A few times a week. I love fucking him that way.”
“What does it do for you?”
“Makes me feel powerful.”
“Do you realize that that makes him less of a man?”
“Yes. Maybe. Sort of.”
“Do you care?”
“No. I love him.”
“What does that make him?”
“And you like that?”
“Yes. I love him.”
“But Johnny’s the one that you like to fuck?”
“So, do you want to fuck Johnny?”
“Really bad. I love the way he fucks me. I need it.”
“I might have some other ideas about that.”
“What if I lined up three black men to fuck you this weekend?”
“At the same time, or…?”
“I would… love that.”
“Do you like it hard and rough?”
“Yes. And nasty. I like it kinda nasty.”
Michael was digging his fingers into my cunt. Three of them now. Occasionally rubbing my clit. He was trying to make me cum.
“You like being a nasty girl?”
“You’re okay with me picking the men?”
“Yes. I trust you. I want you to pick them.”
“What if there were five of them?”
“Ummm… that would be okay.”
“Or just one?”
“I like the idea of three better. Or however many you want?”
“I wanna be a whore for you.”
“Because I know you like that. And I like it too. I want you to sell it.”
“My married white pussy. I want you to sell it to the niggers. Sell it to whoever you want.”
“What would your husband think about that?”
“He doesn’t need to know.”
“What if he found out?”
“Then he’d have to deal with it. He knows I’m not exactly Doris Day.”
“But you do kind of look like her. Sort of a combination of her and Kim Basinger.”
“Yes, I do. Tell me, what if those men were mean and ugly and rough and just out of prison?”
“That would scare me.”
“Would you want me there to protect you?”
Would you fuck them if I told you to?”
“Would they have nice big cocks?”
“The kind you like.”
“Then.. yes. I’d do that for you.”
“All weekend, or just once?”
“All night. All weekend. Whatever you wanted.”
“What about your husband?”
“He’d have to wait for me at home. With his little dick locked up.”
“You like that idea, don’t you?”
“You want me to whore you out, and charged those men money to fuck you?”
“That might be exciting.”
“What should I do with all the money?”
“You keep most it, as my pimp daddy. Give me some, just a little, to buy perfume and lipstick or whatever. And ummm… maybe give my husband like a dollar for use of the marital pussy.”
“The marital pussy? I like that. Funny girl.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“What if I took you to a glory hole somewhere, and made you suck cock all night?”
“I would do it. But I might also be a little upset with you for waiting this long to take me.”
“I love your sense of humor, baby.”
“Thank you, sir. But I’m kinda serious about that.”
“Oh you are?”
“So you want to experience that?”
“Yes. I have before. Twice.”
“When was that?”
“A long time ago. In college.”
“Does your husband know about that?”
“You’ve never told him?”
“There’s lots he doesn’t know. He doesn’t need to know everything.”
“What about now, regarding what you’ve done since you’ve been married? Does he know everything?”
“He does mostly. But not quite everything.”
“You keep secrets from him?”
“A few things, yes.”
“You like keeping secrets from him?”
“It can be exciting. It depends on what it is. Nothing that would hurt him.”
“Like what percentage of things does he not know?”
“He knows most things. Just like maybe ten percent he doesn’t. It’s like my ten percent rule. Every girl is entitled to keep ten percent secret.”
“I like that rule.”
“Do you want your husband to know everything that you and I do together?”
“Mostly I do, yes. I know it will make him feel more comfortable about me seeing you.”
“What about your ten percent rule?”
“Well, there’s that.”
“So ten percent of whatever we do together is just our little secret?”
“That would be fine. I like that.”
“What if I thought it should be more like fifty percent?”
“I’d say… lets start with ten percent and see how it goes.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“There’s a lot I’d like to experience with you.”
“And me with you.”
“What are we going to do about your black cock addiction?”
“Feed it. Let me have lots of it. Lots and lots.”
“How often do you want it?”
“Every day. I want it every day, daddy.”
Michael had been fingering me the whole time, opening up my cunt for him. Every now and then he’d put his fingers up to my mouth, or his, for a taste. I could tell he wanted to fuck me, but he was going to make me beg for it.
“It’s not always going to be Johnny. And you’re not always going to get to pick the guy.”
“I know that. I’m okay with that.”
“Yes. I want you to pick the men that fuck me. I want you to control that.”
“Maybe I’ll take you down to Compton this weekend, and have you walk the street for me. Work the corner. With the other whores.”
“That would scare me.”
“In a mini skirt. High heels. Low cut top. Pretty white girl in Compton?”
“That would be exciting. But way scary.”
Michael’s fingers were getting me close. Getting me close. Almost there…
“Would you do it if I required that of you?”
“Would you be there to protect me?”
“If I got you a cheap roadside motel room for the night?”
“Then that’s where I’d fuck them. For money. As long as you were there to protect me.”
“You look so beautiful tonight.”
“You like to suck cock, baby?”
“You know I do.”
“A lot. It’s one of my favorite things to do. My special talent.”
“How old we’re you the first time?”
“Like… eighth grade.”
“That’s really young.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Drop down to your knees, baby. I need you to pull out my cock and take care of it for me.”
I was glad he got off the subject of my first blowjob. I didn’t really want to get into that whole subject with him in an underground parking lot!
I did as he asked. My knees were scraped and scratched and bruised as I kneeled in front of him. I hated that he stopped fingering me and hadn’t made me cum yet, but I did as he asked.
His cock was super hard. Throbbing. Like a hot piece of meat. Hard!
Michael isn’t as big as Johnny, who is nine inches and as thick as a beer bottle. Michael is more like 7 or 8, but nice and thick. It’s a nice one, sorta banana-shaped. Johnny is circumcised; Michael is not.
Michael always gets me so incredibly hot. His voice. His looks. His intensity. I was dripping wet. My juices were literally running down my legs. It’s like my cunt was steaming creamy hot.
Michael was like: “I can smell your cunt, baby.”
“Do you like that?”
“Yes. I love your scent.”
“Good. Now that you have me all natural, I think my scent is stronger.”
“I like it that way.”
I wanted him to fuck me so bad, but I could tell… he just wanted his cock sucked.
He lasted for a really long time. Fifteen minutes about, maybe? It was long time to be on my knees on the concrete.
Twice during I heard moving cars, but he didn’t really seem to care. And I knew better than to stop without permission.
I had thought the whole time that he wanted to fuck me. I wanted him to. That he just wanted his cock sucked first. But then the way he started fucking my face, I realized he wanted to finish in my mouth. In any other circumstance, I would have stopped and made it clear to my partner that I wanted his cock in me. I would have just climbed on it, or whatever. But not with Michael. I knew better than to stop sucking.
After he came in my mouth… in thick hot spurts… Michael pulled me up and hugged and held me for a long while. And kissed me. He joked that my mouth tasted like cock.
“I’m sorry, daddy. I’ve been a bad girl.”
And with that he told me to stand up, put on my panties (he handed them to me from his pocket) and instructed me to get in the car so he could drive me to mine, which was on a different parking level.
Inside I was like “What!! Are you fricking kidding me!! You fucker! You bastard! Asshole! That’s it? You’re not going to fuck me? I’m not going to get to cum?? What the fuck??”
But I knew better than to say anything, question him. He had his plan.
But I did say to him “I could go home with you. I’d love to sleep with you tonight.”
“Not tonight, darling. You need to be with your husband tonight.”
On the way, he told me that he wanted me to drive home like that, naked, wearing just my panties.
“Don’t go in through the garage. I want you to use the front door. And knock, don’t use your key. I want him to see you like this. Have him give you a bath and take care of your knees.”
“Now, why don’t you send him a text right now to let him know you’re on your way.”
When we got to my car he handed me my clothes, my shoes, and my purse, kissed me, I got out of his car, and he drove off.