She was luscious and responsive. All the boys lusted after her. She wasn’t shy about sex. If she had a boyfriend, she was fucking him, and if she was single, she was out looking for some action like a she wolf on a full moon.
It was this aggression that kept most of the boys at bay wishing and hoping that she would choose them next. She was beautiful and she was curious. She wanted to play just like the boys.
He had a terrible complexion. His back was a veritable volcanic landscape with erupting pustules and oily crevices. But his face was comely and his eyes were beautiful, sparkling, clearly brown framed by perfectly shaped black brows.
He was just so cute shaking his butt out on the dance floor! His nice compact derriere accentuated by the faded worn, soft blue jeans he wore which hung on his hips like a gun belt and cupped his ass just so. Everyone’s eyes followed him as he twisted, wiggled, jerked, shimmied, thrusted, waggled and otherwise cavorted on the dance floor.
His shirt was always worn haphazardly, a fitted western style with pearl snap buttons, purposely left undone to make you think that at any moment he might rip it off to reveal his youthful frame with a small patch of soft black chest hair – a triangle of musk trailing down to a decent sized cock in both length and girth.
He really wasn’t much in bed – very passive. He liked to just lie there. She made him take it and used him in whatever ways she wanted. One night she took him to a gay bar where he promptly switched teams on her. This only extended their repertoire to include three ways and group sex. What followed was two years of absolute debauchery… which ended badly as you might expect.
(First published 6/7/12)
