Modern Mandingo

The summer heat was cooking me with no mercy as I stood on the second floor platform of the suburban duplex, waiting for Monica to answer the door.

As I counted the rows of DirecTV satellite dishes that were bolted onto the balconies of the apartment building across the sidewalk, I heard the sound of a body press against the door.

A few second later, a row of fingers with neatly manicured, neon pink fingernails gripped the side of the door as it cracked open.  Curtains of silky, black hair dangled through the opening, and in between the curtains was the beautiful face of an olive-skinned Latina with dark, rimmed glasses and a cute smile.

“Hi,” she beamed.

“Hello,” I smiled back.

I walked in and gave Monica a quick study as she closed the door behind me:

Her sleek drapes of hair curled at the tips of her seamless shoulders.   A dark, cotton skirt embraced her petite body just enough to outline her curves, all of which were in their proper places.  Black stockings covered her muscular legs and the black heels she wore made her calves bulge.  The cheeks of her plum-shaped ass bounced with each stride as she walked towards the kitchen beside us.

“Want something to drink?  Water, champagne, beer?” she asked.

The track blinds above the sink were parted open enough to illuminate the pile of dirty dishes in the basin.   She lifted a champagne glass from the counter and took a sip of the bubbly inside of it.

“No thanks,” I replied.

I took a moment to scan the place that was in total contrast of her neat appearance – there were a few pairs of skateboard sneakers (much larger than her size) scattered across the carpet that was soiled with dark stains and oil spots.  Beer bottles, an ashtray of smoked cigarettes, and a video game controller were on top of the coffee table.  Beyond it was the cleanest object in the apartment besides her – a giant, flat screen TV; the same one she posed next to in her online photo, with her leg propped on the TV stand as she sipped that same glass of champagne.

“Sorry about the mess.  It’s my boyfriend’s place,” she said.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, he’s at work.”

Monica held her champagne glass by the stem and strolled towards the shabby, living room couch that had a blanket strewn across the top.

“When does he get off?”

“Later tonight.”  She sat, crossed her legs, and patted the cushion beside her.  “Come, sit.”

I was a little disappointed that the absent boyfriend hadn’t been discussed before we’d met.  In our prior emails and phone conversations, the only things Monica mentioned were having her own place and wanting a clean-cut Black guy with a big cock to come over and fill her up; nothing about being someone’s girlfriend and sneaking around at his place.

However, those things wouldn’t have changed my mind about visiting her, but I’d have inquired more about what time he usually went to work and came home, making me more relaxed during the visit without being concerned that he might walk in on us.

I sat beside Monica and was surprised at how comfortable the tattered couch was.  She was also very comfortable and even more stunning up close.  We engaged in some small talk which lessened my concerns about her boyfriend coming home.  But, it heightened my disappointment because this seemingly, level-headed and professional woman was with a guy who had a dirty apartment and whose interests were video games and skateboarding.

After we’d conversed enough, Monica removed her glasses and glided her fingers over my swollen crotch.  I slid the straps of her dress from her shoulders and squeezed her round and puffy breasts before feeding on them like a newborn baby.  Her nipples grew in between my lips as she moaned and caressed the top of my head.

Monica laid back and slipped off her heels, then brushed her stocking-covered feet against my sides.  I rubbed my thumbs underneath the arches and stopped sucking on her breasts to look at them.  The arches of her soft and thin feet curved into a perfect bend, and the neon-pink, pedicured toes glowed through the black tips of her stockings.  She was head to toe beautiful in the most literal sense.

I kissed my way up to her neck and brushed my lips against hers.  Her smooth and succulent lips remained parted and didn’t return the gentle kiss I gave them.

“Do you kiss?” I asked.

“Only with my boyfriend, sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

Maybe it was a good thing that she didn’t, because this sexy temptress would’ve driven me crazy with a passionate lip lock.

Monica maneuvered into doggy style position and lifted the back of her skirt; her plump ass cheeks looked like they were ready to burst through the threads of her black pantyhose.  I rubbed her ass in admiration before I reached to the waist of her stockings and began to pull them down.

“Rip them,” she insisted.

My fingers dug into the seams of her nylons and tried to pull them apart, but it wasn’t happening.  I gripped the fabric from a few different angles and tugged with all my might, but couldn’t get them to budge.

Monica looked back to see the trouble I was having.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” she smiled.

“These things…” I grunted as I yanked them, “…are like Teflon.”

Just as she was about to assist me, the hose finally ripped.  Her thick buns expanded through the threads and sat before me like a pair of creamy drums ready to be pounded on.

Monica rubbed her clit as I put on a condom and eased inside of her tight, waxed pussy.  She wasn’t very wet, so I spit a lather of saliva on my dick for more lubrication.  As I gained momentum, I wound my fingers in the ends of her silky hair and gave it a tender pull.

“Don’t pull my hair please,” she asserted.

“Sorry.”

I stopped, let go of her hair, and regained my stroke.  Just as I began to go deeper, her palm pressed against my stomach to stop me.

“Oh my God, that’s too much.”

Since I’d been taken out of the moment a couple of times, I realized that my back was to the entrance and I started having thoughts of her boyfriend walking in and seeing my Black ass from behind, mounting his girlfriend.  I had to improvise to make the situation more mentally and physically pleasurable.

“I want you on top of me,” I said as I sat beside her.

Monica hesitated as she looked at my latex covered rod, standing at full attention.

“I don’t know…”

“You can do it.”

Her fingertips pressed against my knees for balance as she took her time easing my cock inside of her, but she immediately pushed herself up after going only halfway down.

“Oh my God,” she snickered.  “I can’t.”

I persuaded Monica to cuff her feet behind my knees and lean forward, giving her better control of what she took in.  She reluctantly did so, but was hesitant in her movement.  I clutched her ass cheeks and assisted her maneuver until she built the confidence to bounce that sexy ass up and down on her own.  Plus, I was also able to have a better view of the door in my peripheral while sucking her tits.

After Monica rode me for a while, I wanted to have her thick thighs wrapped around me as I drove my cock deep inside of her.

“Lie back,” I instructed.

Monica rested on her back, opened her legs, and placed her hands on my chest as I slipped my cock inside of her.  When I was halfway in, she gripped one of my chest muscles in her hand and rubbed her clit with the other.

“Stay right there,” she ordered.

Her breathing increased as she rubbed her clit faster.  I moved my dick in a subtle way to get some friction going, but those pink nails dug deeper into my chest.

“Don’t move.  Right there.  Yes…”

I couldn’t suck on her tits.  I couldn’t kiss her.  All I could do was remain motionless above her as she got herself off with no concern of returning the favor.  The best thing to do was to motivate her to get it over with.

“Cum for me baby,” I uttered in a low and sexy tone.  “Cum all over this big Black cock.”

Monica’s thighs squeezed closer to my ribs.  The clit rubbing became so intense, I thought she might start a fire.  This was the most effort she’d put into our encounter, so I’d hoped for some squirting action to cap off an otherwise bland performance…

Nope. 

After a few heavy gasps, she held her breath for a long moment, then exhaled.  Her grip loosened from my chest and her thighs relaxed.  I pulled my cock out of her and stood beside the couch as she got up and took a sip of her champagne.

“My boyfriend will probably be home soon,”  she said as she walked to the kitchen.

The disappointment hadn’t killed my erection, so I left the condom on and put on my pants.  Being that my dick curves a bit downwards, I was able to cradle my massive bulge underneath my balls and let my thighs hold it in place.

Monica escorted me to the door and we bid each other farewell as I exited.  I walked to my car as the latex of the condom scraped against my nuts and thighs with every step.  I was relieved from the elastic chafing when I got into my car and sat down, and even more relieved when I got home and gave myself the release of what should’ve been sprayed across her sexy ass.

But, such are some of the experiences in the world of casual sex; things don’t always go as planned or imagined.