Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [20]
“You are sad.” Donna rocked her body on the bed.
“And you are better than me?” I asked, wondering what made her any different.
“You can’t place me and you in the same class. At home is a husband whom I love dearly and it is reciprocated. I’m not perfect and I don’t say that I am.” She spoke in a monotone like Mrs. Silver, a boring history teacher I had in high school. She was merely stating facts and nothing but the facts. “If I wanted dick, I would be next to Brian right now, not you. You know the reason why we’re here. This is business. The fact that we fuck is all good, but I’m not confused. Every man I have given this pussy to got it for a specific reason. They might get confused because it is so good but I never do.”
The silky voice that made my loins tremble when I had first met her was gone. Unlike my experiences hundreds of times before, this was not about my looks. Even though her body was a million times better than my wife their interest in me was the same. “Your boss?”
“That’s quite obvious. Without the white man getting a piece of my chocolate, we wouldn’t be here right now. And do you know my salary? What secretary makes over seventy grand a year with perks? My husband and I get to go on vacation every year for free and I’m not talking about the Bahamas. Look at this pussy.” Donna turned over and spread her legs. She was clean-shaven as usual. She took her fingers and parted the lips of her pussy, running her index fingers down the middle. Her eyes fluttered for a second as she laid her head on the pillow.
I had always maintained that I would not eat pussy and married pussy was definitely a no-no. Besides being the usual sperm bank reservoir for their husband, married women are always dangerous. Their lack of protection in dealing with their mate leaves you in a game of Russian roulette. I didn’t know what Donna’s husband was into and these days the propensity for the brothers to go in the wrong direction was suicidal. There might have been a reason why Donna had so much free time on her hands. She and her husband might’ve both been getting off, but maybe not with each other. I ran my hands up and down her legs all the way to her toes. She continued playing with her pussy, this time squeezing her pussy with one hand to expose her clit. She licked the finger on her other hand and started to rub her clit. We had finished having sex about an hour ago and my body was ready for another go-around. I reached down to lick her freshly pedicured toes.
“I see this is as far as you would go,” Donna said, smiling.
My tongue traced down the sole of her feet.
“You are a freak.”
“Yeah, I go where no other man has gone before.” The tip of my tongue traced between her toes; then one by one, I took them in my mouth. Her body moved restlessly on the bed. A weekly pedicure appointment schedule and clean hygiene had left her feet looking and smelling deliciously clean. I had been with women that I would not even kiss but I would fuck them all night. Don’t ask me why. Someone once said that on “any given Sunday,” you would fuck almost anything. There are always Sundays in the week.
“You are insatiable,” Donna whispered as her hands left her clit to take hold of her breasts.
“The last time you left much too early.” I traced my tongue up the inside of her right leg. As my head lifted above her belly button, she held my head with her pussy-wet hands.
She gazed deeply into my eyes. “Fuck me.”
I slid my condom-covered dick into her wet pussy and as she raked my back I pushed into her as hard as I could.
“Yes, fuck me hard. I want to feel you in my dreams.” She wrapped her legs around my waist, clenching her teeth down on my right earlobe.
I pushed her back down on the bed and lifted her legs over my shoulders for maximum penetration, lifting her sweet butt as I drove into her. I had experienced good pussy before, but Donna’s was excellent.