Prologue
April 1, 2011
Seagram’s gin spewed from my lips as I exhaled deeply removing the half a gallon glass bottle away from them. I cuffed it close to my brown bare-naked body as if I were cradling my own flesh and blood. Spittle splashed all on his forehead before dripping down his nose and I did not even bother to wipe the shit off. My wide hips and plumped fat mocha skinned ass gyrated on top of his eight inch thick tanned Caucasian dick. His mouth was opened slightly excreting a faint moan as he stared up into my bouncing perky C cup beauties.
I rode his dick like I was in the fucking Kentucky Derby trying to stay in first place, fast and rough. It felt damn good, but the only emotion I could show came from the tears escaping my eyes sliding down my cheeks. They closed as my head tilted back. The room spun clockwise, or counter clockwise, actually I couldn’t give a fuck but my brain felt dizzy. With my mouth agape, my body was in pure unadulterated exuberance. I moved in slow but full motion enjoying the penetration.
“Are you okay, baby?” Chino reached his firm hands to my neck massaging roughly.
“Shut the fuck up.” My hand slapped his, forcing it to flop down on the bed like fish out of water. “Didn’t I say don’t touch me?”
“Starla, you don’t have to be this way. Let me help—“
“I said shut the fuck up.”
His dick tapped my uterus consistently. Not the light patting of fingers to a table tap but the gut wrenching pounding the police would deliver to the door of a decade long wanted fugitive kind of tap. It was like being born again. Every time I went down on him it prompted me to bounce even harder, inflicting the greatest amount of pain and pleasure possible. Pain, greater pain than a flamethrower searing my flesh apart. I needed to feel that pain. I needed something to deflect the aching that I was feeling in my heart. Maybe if my body were in agonizing pain physically, the sorrow that I was feeling would go away.
He reached for my neck again, pulling my head down trying to kiss me. Annoyance read on my face like a billboard. Yet, he continued trying to caress me even when he could clearly see that was the last thing that I wanted from him. I knocked his hands back down once again to his side punching them in the process. I didn’t want him to do anything but what I was telling him to do. Why couldn’t he understand that?
“I’m not gonna cum like this. You’re not into it. You’re just doing this because you’re angry.” Chino leaned back on the bed, bouncing casually and giving up.
He gave up but I wasn’t ready to. I never broke stride, rubbing my tits with my fingertips to get my pussy back wet from the dry gallop it was enduring. I rode him slowly attempting to coat his dick with juices and keep him in the mood, but it proved useless. Chino had already declined his erection. Out of reflex and anger, I extended my arm back against the air and lowered it slapping him hard across his left cheek.
His eyes read of confusion, staring up at me like a worried puppy, as I began to bounce on his dick rougher. Even though it was limp I was not done yet, beckoning him to get it back up for me. I was not fucking done yet. He was going to give me what I wanted one way or the other. I jerked on him allowing the liquor to take over my body. In a way, I felt out of control, like a demon had possessed my body yearning, hungering for my climax. The bed rocked violently. The headboard banged the wall as if it would burst right through it.
“Starla, I can’t do this. You either talk to me about what you’re feeling or this is not happening.”
“I don’t want to talk.” My breathing slowed feeling his dick grow a little inside of me. “I want to fuck.”
“No, you don’t. You just want to find a reason not to talk about the fact that we just buried our fifteen month old daughter this morning.” Chino sighed closing his eyes. “It’s not our fault that the
April 1, 2011
Seagram’s gin spewed from my lips as I exhaled deeply removing the half a gallon glass bottle away from them. I cuffed it close to my brown bare-naked body as if I were cradling my own flesh and blood. Spittle splashed all on his forehead before dripping down his nose and I did not even bother to wipe the shit off. My wide hips and plumped fat mocha skinned ass gyrated on top of his eight inch thick tanned Caucasian dick. His mouth was opened slightly excreting a faint moan as he stared up into my bouncing perky C cup beauties.
I rode his dick like I was in the fucking Kentucky Derby trying to stay in first place, fast and rough. It felt damn good, but the only emotion I could show came from the tears escaping my eyes sliding down my cheeks. They closed as my head tilted back. The room spun clockwise, or counter clockwise, actually I couldn’t give a fuck but my brain felt dizzy. With my mouth agape, my body was in pure unadulterated exuberance. I moved in slow but full motion enjoying the penetration.
“Are you okay, baby?” Chino reached his firm hands to my neck massaging roughly.
“Shut the fuck up.” My hand slapped his, forcing it to flop down on the bed like fish out of water. “Didn’t I say don’t touch me?”
“Starla, you don’t have to be this way. Let me help—“
“I said shut the fuck up.”
His dick tapped my uterus consistently. Not the light patting of fingers to a table tap but the gut wrenching pounding the police would deliver to the door of a decade long wanted fugitive kind of tap. It was like being born again. Every time I went down on him it prompted me to bounce even harder, inflicting the greatest amount of pain and pleasure possible. Pain, greater pain than a flamethrower searing my flesh apart. I needed to feel that pain. I needed something to deflect the aching that I was feeling in my heart. Maybe if my body were in agonizing pain physically, the sorrow that I was feeling would go away.
He reached for my neck again, pulling my head down trying to kiss me. Annoyance read on my face like a billboard. Yet, he continued trying to caress me even when he could clearly see that was the last thing that I wanted from him. I knocked his hands back down once again to his side punching them in the process. I didn’t want him to do anything but what I was telling him to do. Why couldn’t he understand that?
“I’m not gonna cum like this. You’re not into it. You’re just doing this because you’re angry.” Chino leaned back on the bed, bouncing casually and giving up.
He gave up but I wasn’t ready to. I never broke stride, rubbing my tits with my fingertips to get my pussy back wet from the dry gallop it was enduring. I rode him slowly attempting to coat his dick with juices and keep him in the mood, but it proved useless. Chino had already declined his erection. Out of reflex and anger, I extended my arm back against the air and lowered it slapping him hard across his left cheek.
His eyes read of confusion, staring up at me like a worried puppy, as I began to bounce on his dick rougher. Even though it was limp I was not done yet, beckoning him to get it back up for me. I was not fucking done yet. He was going to give me what I wanted one way or the other. I jerked on him allowing the liquor to take over my body. In a way, I felt out of control, like a demon had possessed my body yearning, hungering for my climax. The bed rocked violently. The headboard banged the wall as if it would burst right through it.
“Starla, I can’t do this. You either talk to me about what you’re feeling or this is not happening.”
“I don’t want to talk.” My breathing slowed feeling his dick grow a little inside of me. “I want to fuck.”
“No, you don’t. You just want to find a reason not to talk about the fact that we just buried our fifteen month old daughter this morning.” Chino sighed closing his eyes. “It’s not our fault that the
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