I don’t know what it is about black men that gets my tongue wagging and my pussy wet. Maybe it’s their big, long, fat cocks. Or the fact that black men have serious stamina can fuck all day and all night and still cum back for more. Or maybe because their smooth, dark, black skin makes me think of my other love….chocolate.
I remember one day I was craving some creamy chocolate so I devoured a dark, rich candy bar and realized it wasn’t enough to quench my appetite. I was still hungry for the “real” thing. Since my pathetic husband was out of town on business I called our neighbor Jerome with the excuse that I wanted him to come over and help me fix a broken table in my bedroom. I asked him if he had hammer and nails and he said, “Genie, I’ve got everything you need”.
He came to the door with his tool box ready to work. I invited him in and pointed to the tool box and said, “You won’t need the that….the tool I need is bulging in those tight pants you’re wearing.” He grabbed me, kissed me, pick me up and ran up the stairs to my room. He threw me on the bed and he stripped naked. When I saw that long, black cock hanging to his knees my pussy got wetter than ever. I peeled off my clothes and said, “Cum to Momma”. He fucked the hell out of me with that big, black dick and I’m sure our neighbors could hear me moaning and begging for more.
As we laid there in the stickiness of our cum I heard the keys and the front door open. “Oh shit”, I thought, “my husband is home”. I was too weak to move. When my husband stood at the bedroom door staring at me and Jerome I thought he was going to throw something or yell or try to hit one of us. But instead he sat on the edge of the bed and started stroking his cock. I couldn’t believe that it turned him on. But his dick was rock hard. He looked at me and Jerome and said, “Don’t stop on my account.” Then Jerome rammed his big, black, throbbing cock right up my ass and started pounding away. My husband looked like he was in heaven. Hmmm, who knew? My husband was CRAVING BLACK COCK too.
