Watching Kara suck my cock


Posted:bbwclub
 Watching Kara suck my cock
This is reality, more or less. Truth is in the eye of
the beholder, and since we've been writing this down ever
since we started this perilous little journey, some of the
events are stretched and some aren't. Unfortunately, the
ones that aren't are probably the truest.
Brandy and I decided that it was time that we wrote
down the story. I would write one chapter, she'd write
another, so that we might be able to at least provide some
balance to this. I can't explain what's happening to us any
better than this. No, my real name is not Truman, and her
real name isn't Brandy. The names of the people involved are
changed to protect the guilty - namely, us.
Brandy and I live a block away from each other, still.
And yes, I'm wondering if we should move in together, seeing
that we've been through quite a bit together. And at this
point in time I feel closer to her than I ever have in my
life. There's time for that, I guess. And I know when it
started. Way after she and I bumped gin-and-tonics after the
bar and wound up walking around the city reeking of alcohol,
sober as skunks. Sexually speaking, a real low point for the
both of us. Emotionally, I think we found each other that
night and found out what we were looking for.

The real story from my side of the book begins with the
story of Kara. Nice girl from a good Jewish family.
Wonderful body and a great smile, yet this nasty habit of
demanding that I not eat pork around her, and that I become
a vegetarian. For whatever reason. Still, a regular gymnast
in bed and someone I didn't mind spending time around, yet
for whatever reason, didn't like Brandy that much.
Brandy and I are friends - have been, ever since the
night we bumped drinks on each other and I shamelessly told
her she had the prettiest eyes in the entire world. She
jabbed me with her elbow, took me out to ballroom dancing
and allowed me to hit on her the entire night before telling
me I wasn't her type. Fair enough - she'd already begun
dating a guy I knew from the physics class. I also was with
someone on a fairly regular basis at that point, so I
figured no big loss.
My theory behind men and women being friends comes from
the "Harry Met Sally" movie with Meg Ryan and Bill Crystal.
You know, the theory that men and women cannot ever be good
friends because subconsciously, the man is either trying to
figure out a way to get the woman into bed or he's actively
thinking about ways of doing just that. Women are either on
to them or completely oblivious, and in some cases, once you
move past the non-physical part, you hit the nail right on
the head. I've wanted Brandy ever since I've known her, but
the respect issues get in the way. And don't tell me it's
because she's there but just out of my reach. Any idiot who
has his hormones turned in the right direction would be
going after Brandy. A slender body, long legs, with these
big doe eyes that she blinks incessantly in order to get any
male to do something she wants them to do, with sandy blonde
hair and huge green eyes. At one point I surprised her
coming out of a shower with barely a towel on, and I can
safely say that even though she'll kill me for describing
her this way, Brandy is a complete hottie. The one thing she
seems to be sensitive about, however, is the smallness of
her chest.
And yes, she shaves. Or at least that's what she's told
me.
Kara and I, at the beginning point of these little
adventures, had had a huge fight regarding my friends and
the time I spent with her as opposed to the time I spent
with them. Eventually, the conversation rolled around to my
spending time with Brandy, going out to coffee together on
Thursday (a regular thing).Kara, incidentally, is as well-
hipped as Brandy is slender. Where Brandy has actually asked
me if I think her breasts are too tiny, Kara is seriously
looking into getting reduction surgery. Her little body and
her compactness, combined with the hourglass figure, and
with the incredible way she used her body to satisfy herself
(and, as a side note, anyone she happens to be fucking)
makes her just slightly less dangerous than a tornado on a
Simmons posturepedic.
That afternoon, I'd been reading Plato and trying
desperately not to fall asleep. I didn't manage, and I woke
up to hear a loud banging on my front door. I opened it, and
there was my girlfriend, biting her lip, holding a large
backpack full of papers and gear, and looking very much like
she wanted sex.
Kara had the look in her eye. She reached in, grabbed
my sweatshirt (go you Rebels go), yanked it over my head
(right into the congealed spaghetti in the trash) and
proceeded to slam the door behind her. She lifted her face
to mine and kissed me, hard on the lips, her fingers
reaching down towards my cock. My body was tired; had I had
time for an internal groan before her fingers touched the
skin of my head through my jeans, I might have let one off
and avoided the whole sticky problem.
Her little body was grinding against mine, and I could
feel the heat of her body through the soft wool of her
pants. Naked or clothed, Kara had an ass that most men would
die to have one handful of. Soft and rounded, it held up the
pants she wore with no problem. Her waist - tiny, her
breasts large, olive-skinned, dark-nippled, easily perked
handfuls.
She bit my tongue, tilting her head up towards me and
pushing her body towards mine, forcing me to back up against
the futon I'd been dozing on. She shoved me down and
unzipped my pants, grasping for my penis and pulling it out
before taking it in her mouth and sucking viciously.
Watching Kara suck my cock is still a fond memory, and
I suppose it really isn't good form to talk about it, but
Kara was an excellent giver of head. She looked up at me,
sweeping the hair out of her face, and licked the underside
of my cock with her tongue before engulfing it with her
mouth and swirling her tongue over the head. I normally
can't come from a blowjob, but Kara had the ability to suck
me dry, then suck me hard enough to fuck her as hard as I
could.
Today was no exception. She hadn't bothered to take off
her sweater, and her face bobbing up and down over my cock
was incredible. She had a little smile on her face as I slid
in and out of her mouth, her eyes flicking to mine as she
massaged my balls. She slid her fist around my cock, and
gripping it, sucked and jerked me off, her beautiful lips
wrapped around my rapidly thickening cock. I reached down,
stroking her head as her tongue flicked across the head of
my penis.
Somehow, she'd managed to unzip her pants and wriggle
out of them, and with a not-so-gentle kiss to my cock, she
stood up and dropped her pants to the floor, along with her
black cotton panties. The nest of thick, black hair in-
between her legs gave off a deep, musky scent - the scent
that I knew said Kara wanted to have sex, and she wanted sex
right now. She slid her sweater off, and the matching black
satin bra she was wearing was quickly unhooked.
Even though she only stood 5'1" to my 6'3", Kara could
command any guy she was with easily. Her eyes and the little
smile she gave me when I grabbed her hips and pulled her
towards me, my mouth running over her smooth brown belly
with nipping kisses made me understand quite simply that she
felt she owned me, that what I was doing was what she wanted
me to do, and just that.
This was not exactly a relationship in a two-way
street, if you get what I mean. But when you're in the
middle of running your fingers through your girlfriend's
wet, hotly scented pussy and kissing the smooth skin just
underneath her breast, who really spends time thinking about
what balance of power the relationship has?
I let my fingers creep between her legs, parting the
light black hair covering her pussy. I lifted her sweater,
shirt, bra - the whole ensemble came off. Her breasts jutted
out towards me, and my hands leapt up to caress the nipples
- small, standing firm in the air. She let out a tiny moan.
Kara loved having her nipples touched or sucked. I let my
tongue roam around the underside of her left breast for a
moment before licking a slow circle around her aureole. She
pressed her hips forward into my chest, almost suffocating
me as she grabbed my head and pulled me towards her.
"Truman," she purred. "Yeah, suck my nipple,
Truman...suck me, baby." I gave her a little of her own
treatment as I pulled her breast as far into my mouth as I
could, flicking her enraged nipple with my tongue. My
fingers slid back to their favorite spot and moved slowly
across her clit, rubbing her slowly.
"Oh, God, Truman...I want you to fuck me so hard right
now. I want your cock inside me," Kara said, her nearly-
perfect nails raking across my back. She pushed herself back
from me and grabbed for my pants, attempting to unbuckle
them. With a little shove, I leaned her back and grabbed her
thighs, feeling the solid-soft flesh give underneath my
fingers. Her pussy winked at me, the tiny pink lips peeking
through the forest of her hair. I slid a finger inside her,
touching the inside walls of her body, feeling the smooth
liquid of her inner walls. She bit my shoulder, breathing
heavily as my finger crept inside her, up to the back of her
pussy. She gave a little cry when the tip of my finger
touched her cervix, and she whined, "God, just fuck me,
please."
I smiled and moved her underneath. Her hands were
grasping at my head, trying to pull me up, but damn it, I
was tired. And the taste of her pussy was something I really
enjoyed. So starting at the inner thigh, I nipped the soft
flesh of her skin with my teeth, positioning my head so that
she was squatting above me, her lips parted and the inner
crevices of her cave place hot, feverishly wet.
The tongue came out and lashed her clit, pressing
against her nubbin hard, then soft. I don't know what it is,
but Kara loved the way I gave head. My tongue would dance in
near-random patterns across her pussy, sucking at her,
tugging the labia out, stretching her pussy here and there,
exploring every inch like a curious, warm animal snuggling
for the fascinating smells and the nectar of a woman in full
arousal. I let my tongue slide along the sides of her pussy,
kissing the flesh just next to her slit.
And then my tongue began to dance. My fingers held her
ass apart as she began thrusting her hips at me, trying to
push my tongue deeper into her. She moaned, "Just put it in,
Truman" before she gasped. I flicked my tongue against the
tip of her exposed clit once again, silencing her. She bit
down on her lip, grabbing my head and pulling my face deeper
into her groin.
I stayed like that for five minutes before my neck
began to hurt, and with a none-too-gentle shove, I stretched
her down on the floor, suckling her nipple. She reached for
my pants and shoved them down, nearly ripping the old, worn
denim. She reached up and grabbed my head, pulling me down
to her, those green eyes in full demand.
Kara said, "Truman, if you don't fuck me right now I'm
going to roll you over and rape you right on this floor.
Goddamn it, I want you so much right now."
Instead of saying anything back, I slid my hand down to
my penis, rubbing, stroking. The scent of Kara's pussy was
quite enough to keep me hard, but the sight of my girlfriend
lying down on the ground, naked and spread-eagled, her pussy
matted with the juice and her panties soaked in the crotch.
It was a very erotic moment, and I wanted to enjoy it, to
enjoy knowing that I had not said one word to her yet.
Power? I knew she had the power of sex over me most of the
time, and I wanted her to suffer a little, as I suffered
when she decided she didn't want to be held or she didn't
want to have sex. Subconsciously, of course. At the moment,
my cock simply wanted to be inside a warm, wet, tightly
muscled channel that only wanted to squeeze it. My body
ached; I was exhausted, and I knew that a long session of
sex would require no conversation - a short session would
mean I would have to sit and listen to her talk to me. I
wanted to get her off and have a quiet, sleepy evening at
home, no more interruptions.
Kara had other plans, however. She grabbed my cock
cruelly in one hand and guided it within her. I had the
feeling of pressure, pressure against the fine, silky black
hairs, the inviting warmth of her body. She teased it
against the hood of her clitoris, smiling wickedly up at me.
I had a brown skinned nipple in my fingers, feeling the
tenderness of the skin and the bumpiness of her left aureole
against my chest. I looked down before she slid it towards
the opening of herself, and raised her legs, wrapping her
body around me. Then, with a violent thrust, she shoved
herself onto me.
How do you describe that first feeling, when your skin
is touching nothing, then is encased in a strong, smooth,
silky, wet warm place? It's a shift from starvation to
satiation, from nothingness to absolute pleasure. I felt her
body squeezing against me, her pussy juice pooling around my
body. Her breasts were moving against my chest, her ass
spread on my carpet. Her eyes were fixated on me, her mouth
locked to my chest.
I thrust inside her, gently, but the movement of her
body against mine said she wanted it hard, fast, and rough.
I thrust my hips into hers, feeling the soft give of her,
before the tip of my cock rested against her cervix. She
uttered a small guttural sound as I pushed against it, then
grabbed my hair and pulled my face down to hers, biting my
lip. She knew how to move her body against mine, and the
tiny mouth of her cervix bit, sucked, and nibbled on the tip
of my cock before I pulled out and slowly eased it back into
its place.
I was hard. Painfully hard, in fact. I could feel my
cock almost resting in the part of her body. I could look
down and see the stalk of my body invading her, and when she
saw me looking, she had an animalistic grin of possession on
her face. We stayed like that for a while before the
grinding began to wear on her, and she pushed at my shoulder
to get me to roll over.
We rolled over so that she was sitting astride me, her
pussy still matted with the juice overflowing from her lips.
The smell of sex, hot, musky and salt, combined with the
natural smells of a woman's body; hair, skin, sweat were
truly arousing. I could feel every nerve in my penis afire,
every sucking inch of her vagina like a thousand tiny
tongues running up and down her body. She grabbed my chest
and said, "I love you, Truman." She moved up, her lips
holding my cock just barely inside of her.
She released, my cock slamming into the back of her.
She gave out a gasp. "I love fucking you so much. I love the
feel of your cock up against my pussy. I love it when you
grab my hips and make me ride you." She began shoving her
stomach forward, leaning back, my cock straining up against
her g-spot. "Oh....god," she said, closing her eyes. Her
hands roamed from my chest to her clit, one finger rubbing.
"That feels so fucking good."
My arms found the tops of her hips; my forearms lay
along the olive skin of her thighs. I could see the wetness
of her pussy as my cock entered her, watching the join of us
as she rode me.
But I could feel myself slipping, and while she was
having a great time, I was having problems. This wasn't
doing it for me. I stopped her, reaching to her, bringing
her head down to mine for a kiss. Her tongue dove inside of
my mouth. She looked at me, and whispered, "What do you want
to do?"
My hand found her breast, and toyed with the nipple.
For a woman with such large breasts, Kara had small, neatly
shaped little nipples. Her breasts were round and full, like
twin harvest moons, and the way they would sway underneath
her body when I rode her from behind, her hips in my
hands...
I lifted her up from me, climbing behind her. The
squeak of protest she let out as my cock left the warm
clinging embrace of her pussy was quickly silenced by my
fingers rubbing the sides of her sex. I slid a finger inside
her, kneeled behind her, parting her thighs and looking at
her pussy.
The dark hair curled around her, and watching my finger
roll in and out of Kara was starting to really turn me on.
She was letting out the small squeaks and moans that said
she was getting close to orgasm - my pulling out of her
frustrated her, especially so close. She reached behind,
grabbing my cock, trying to bring me closer to her.
Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. I knelt and
thrust, shoving my cock deep inside of her. Kara's mouth
opened in a silent scream, a nearly outraged O of protest,
but when a sound came out of her mouth, it was the scream of
an orgasm. Her pussy began squeezing me violently, and her
hands clutched at the pillow. I held her hips, ramming my
body against her buttocks as my cock surged through the
streams of come gushing from her body. She looked back at
me, my arms taut, my hands grasping her hips, and her left
hand ran back to her clit, touching the sensitive little
bump as I slammed into her, the rocking motion running her
finger over the skin over and over and over again. She bit
her lip again, a fervent "O god o god o god o GOD" as the
next orgasm built and slammed through her body.
I was getting close. Close enough that I could feel the
sensitivity of my cock building and building and building. I
closed my eyes and I thrust harder and harder, knowing that
what I was doing turned me on. Knowing that I was about to
spurt deep inside of her. A third orgasm rocked Kara and she
grabbed for the legs of the futon, screaming as her pussy
erupted in a flood of absolute warmth, and the squeezing of
her pussy did its final work on me.
And suddenly I was in ecstasy. The white-hot pain of my
sperm boiling through my cock, suddenly erupting and
spraying all over her pussy. I slammed my body as deeply as
I possibly could inside her, feeling my cock flush against
her cervix. She yelled, "Yes, yes, come inside me, come
inside me, fill me up with your come...I want you to fill me
up..."
The Mormons downstairs were probably going apeshit.
We stayed like that for a while before she pulled me
down on the floor with her, my cock still lodged firmly
between her thighs. She smiled, reaching back up with her
face to kiss me on the cheek. "Thank you," she said.
And I lay there, still not saying a word, yet wondering
why I had to imagine, sometimes, that Kara, the woman who I
shared my bed with, who could turn me on more than any other
woman, whose body I loved to touch and smell and feel with
my own, was my best friend, Brandy, to keep it up.
Because at the pinnacle of the whole sexual thing, I
was fucking Kara for all I was worth, but suddenly, instead
of olive skin, I had Brandy's soft, light tan body
underneath mine. Instead of dark brown hair, it was sandy
blonde. And what bothered me most of all was that I knew (or
thought I knew) that Kara, as imaginative as she was, and
complete with her obsession about certain male physical
stereotypes, was thinking of someone else, too.
And yes, I have to say, having sex with your girlfriend
is a lot of fun, but as far as aerobic workouts go, sex is
up there with running a couple of miles, especially if you
are as energetic as Kara was in bed. I can remember going
from the fantastic smoothness of her pussy to feeling an
explosion of pain as she changed gears so fast I popped out
and slammed myself against her hips.
"So I have a new piece," Kara said. She had caught her
breath and was wiggling underneath me to keep my cock
embedded in her pussy.
"What?" I said.
"I have this new performance art piece. I was telling
you about it earlier." She snuggled deeper into the thick
blanket I used as a rug and grabbed my ass. "You don't
remember anything, do you?"
And at that moment, I remembered why I'd been trying to
stay awake instead of falling asleep; I was supposed to meet
Brandy for coffee in twenty minutes. Kara had an art
exhibition rehearsal in thirty, and I'd made plans to be
with them both.

Kara said, "Oh, GOD. It's not as if you're going to be
married to the woman. She's just a friend, for god's sake."
We were sitting down on the futon now, both still
naked. Kara's breasts were bobbing slightly with the waves
she was making with her cigarette. "Come on, Truman. If you
were really going to be with me, you might as well act as
though your girlfriend came before some woman you weren't
dating." She rubbed absently at her pussy. Small pearls of
white come still glistened on her lips.
"Come on, Kara. Brandy and I have our routine. You know
that. It's not like the rehearsal is going to take fifteen
minutes. I'll be there in time."
I found an old towel and rubbed myself more or less
clean, then handed it to Brandy. She gave me a sharp look,
then reached down and grabbed my t-shirt from the pile of
clothes we'd discarded, rubbing it between her legs.
I grabbed a glass of water and drank it, watching her.
She finished, then threw the shirt behind the futon and
stood up, grabbing for her jeans, stashing her panties in
her purse. "I wanted you to be there. You're basically
saying that what I have isn't important to you, Truman, that
what I want and what I need isn't important to you."
"Kara, stop being jealous. Brandy and I are just going
to coffee." I grabbed my forehead. Now that the code of
silence had been broken, we were back on familiar ground;
she bitched, I listened and accepted.
Kara had her own way of dealing with life's little
problems. Anytime she got pissed off about something, she
found that the easiest way to deal with her frustrations was
to corner her boyfriend, rip off his clothes, and fuck his
brains out. Not a bad arraignment, most men would say. But
the frequency of Kara's mood swings and the ability she had
to move from an angel crouched in ecstasy, gripping my cock
with the softness of her pussy and screaming my name, to
suddenly placing the blame squarely on my shoulders was
amazing.
Even more amazing was the fact that post-sex, I usually
let her do it.
Today was no exception.
Kara stood up, her upper body still flushed from the
orgasms she'd had. I swear, screaming at me was after play
or something for her. "Look, Truman. You have to make a
decision about who's more important in your life. I love you
and you love me, and then Brandy makes three. She's not part
of all this, is she?"
I shook my head, trying to get the image of Brandy's
fair skinned body underneath mine erased from my mind's eye.
"Look, that's not important here."
"No, what's important is that you don't give a shit
about what I do and what I like and what's important to me,"
Kara said, fumbling with her shirt and bra. "I've got to go
back to the studio and I have to rehearse, and if you want
to show me that you really love me, you should show up and
watch the piece and tell me what you think about it." She
whirled, checked her face in the mirror, and then went to
the door.
"Kara, I'm not coming."
"Fine." She turned the doorknob. "Then you're going to
be alone for a while, Truman, at least until you can figure
out that what YOU want isn't what YOU should always get."
She slammed the door behind her, her brown hair streaming
out.
And a picture fell from the wall, the glass frame
breaking into a thousand pieces. The poster, one of my
favorites, fell from the cardboard backing. "Beauty is
fleeting; life is eternal." Over a night picture of the
Northern California coastline.
I was thinking about that quote while I swept up the
glass. Maybe she was right. Maybe I should drop whatever
Brandy and I had and just dedicate my whole life to making
sure Kara and I were happy together. Why not? The
relationship was good, the sex was better than fantastic,
and the girl appeared to be happy with me.
So why did I still get a feeling of dread whenever I
thought about spending the rest of my life with this woman?
I was dating her, I had some feelings for her, I had told
her I was in love with her more than once. I was sweet and
caring and nice. And yet, whenever we had sex, my thoughts
flicked to Brandy. Not Kara.
After staring at it for a good minute, I picked up the
phone and called Brandy.


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