Retribution: Throat Diva 2

7

Good dick isn't always attached to a good nigga. A smart bitch knows the difference.

I pull my pussy lips open for him. Jasper forces my legs open wider, presses his face into my crotch and sniffs. My pulse quickens. A knot forms in the back of my throat as he slides his middle finger into his mouth, then pushes it into my pussy.

I grunt, mindful to clench my pussy muscles.

His finger pumps in and out of me. Against my will a moan slips out. He's stirring my pussy. My mind is screaming one thing. But my body is crying out something else.

I shut my eyes. Try to imagine Thick Seven's fingers inside of me instead. "You mine, yo. This shit belongs to me."

I feel the weight of his body shift as he goes down my body. His thick fingers digging into my hips as he buries his face between my thighs. His lips find my clit.

Oh, God, no! Mmmm

I try to fight the sensation. But it is becoming too overwhelming. I spread my legs wider. In my head, I'm over this nigga. But my body right at this very moment has a mind of its own. It is still connected to him. Jasper's fingers light a slow building fire. My anger toward this nigga is the accelerant that causes wet flames to shoot through. "Aaah. Uhhhh"

"This is my pretty pussy, yo," Jasper says, breathlessly against my pussy lips as he licks them. I don't want this. Not from him. But the feelingâ¦oh Godâ¦it's overpowering me, clouding my judgment. He parts my slick lips, licking the center of my pussy, then sucks on my clit.

Nasty motherfucker!

I hate this nigga!

I know this is about Jasper's need to feel as if he still has power over me. Truth is, he does; only because
I
let him. But not for long I keep reminding myself.

I let out another moan as he buries his face deeper, his tongue slinking further into my wetness. Inside, the fearless me is smirking, hoping Jasper can taste the lingering remnants of Thick Seven's nut. But the cautious me, prays he doesn't. I hold my breath, hoping he can't detect another nigga's scent on meâor in me, knowing all too well the feeling of his wrath if he does.

Still, I live on the edge.

Bitch, you keep playing with fire! Your ass is going to get burned!

I'm so fucked up in my head, in my thinking. Jasper's done this to me. Has me confused. I've done this to me. I hate him for making me feel like this. I hate myself for feeling like this. Torn and confused and angry and turned on.

I groan.

He continues exploring my pussy with his fingers and tongue, searching for what's been left on the sheets back in Santa Monica, and long rinsed out in L.A. There are no signs of my indiscretion still lingering.

He lifts my hips up, then places my legs over his broad shoulders, pressing the head of his swollen dick up against my slit. He grinds himself into me, his thick veiny dick sliding up and down between my lips, coating his shaft with pussy juices oozing out of me.

I moan.

Against my will, another wave of heat sweeps through me. I want him to hurry up and fuck me. I want him to fuck me fast and deep and hard and dirty so he can be done with it. I want him to fuck me like the dirty bitch he thinks I am. Like the dirty bitch I've been. Then I can wash him
and my guilt off of me. But this nigga wants to take his slow sweet time. I remind him that he has company downstairs. Remind him of the running shower.