She’s A Squirter

When you meet someone and you genuinely just click, life seems to get a little easier. From webpage coding to photography, we seem to have quite a few things in common, but most importantly, we both like sex…good sex.

For lack of more time to come up with some clever name that doesn’t give away her identity (she’s pretty popular out in in this world), I’ll call her Inspiration. In short, she gets shit done. She has several sources of revenue and a mean hustle game. Her measurements, specifically the ass to waist ratio, rival some of the best I’ve ever seen. She’s fashion savvy, but more importantly forward thinking. I’m as attracted to her ability to cite algorithms and php coding, as her…ass, if not more.

Our first casual encounter took place on a cool evening downtown along side the riverfront. You know me, FREE IS KEY. As expected, the conversation flowed smoothly; keeping a non-sexual tone until we reached the pyramid. “I want to have sex by Harriet Tubman,” she said, referring to the statue in Hart Plaza. She’d told me of the spontaneous things she’d planned for her ex-man during their relationship. I always like when a woman isn’t afraid, ashamed, or scared to call up her dude and set up a spare of the moment quickie in the strangest places. My motto, BEDS ARE BORING.

She’s leaning up against me; her ass intruding into my personal space. I started to get a slight erection, so we started making our way back to our cars. I took her to another part of the riverfront, near the lighthouse, and tried unsuccessfully to remove her breast from her bra. At this point, I knew she wasn’t trying to have sex, so I took her back to her car. She had business to attend to and I had an 8 o’clock class the next morning, so we hugged it up and parted ways.

The next time we met up was to go see “Death At A Funeral.” She came over my house first and we kicked it for a while before it was time. She had on some black heels, black spandex pants (which have now become my second favorite thing to see women in besides those classy sun dresses), and some type of sexy ass shirt. She also had a bottle of Moscato, talk about flashbacks, that had me looking at her kind of weird. Thankfully, it was never opened.

So we’re at the movies with the “hater rest” (aka the cup holder) put up. She’s leaning on my chest while my hand is in between her thighs, with her coat conveniently placed over it to keep the nosy folks out of our biz. I must have been playing with her clit through a quarter of the movie and it would have been longer but it’s hard to keep focus when you’re watching some white guy singing on a roof.

Now we’re back to my place, sitting on the couch watching tv. She turned and looked at me and started to asked, “When’s the last time you’ve been tested?” It caught me off guard but I answered, along with the 10 questions to follow. After that awkward moment, one thing led to another and now she’s getting naked. This girl’s body. Oh my. To me, and this isn’t even what I need, just something I like…the perfect stomach on a woman is when it’s flat, with no muscle definition. Perhaps that’s just me, but I rather have a little pouch than 6 pack on my lady. Her bra matched her panties, her undershirt matched them both. Her whole outfit was coordinated wonderfully. I had to stop and take a good 20 pictures of her.

I hadn’t been this hard in weeks. It felt as if all the adrenaline in my body was pumping into my erection and I couldn’t wait for her to get on it. I rolled the condom down and she came and sat on my lap, backwards. First bouncing on me while touching the floor, then raising up, back arched inwardly. I was definitely feeling her ride game, but when I put her on my lap facing me, she couldn’t take the push back. “You’re all in the left side of my stomach”…as if my dick has a hook to it or something. When I tried to push up while she tried to grind, she couldn’t take it.

She went in, head was something wonderful. Two hands around the shaft, spit, suck, lick….oh wait, don’t forget the balls. Yes. Yes. Yes. Made her cum, then I released a bomb. Reloaded, did the same thing over again, but this time…OH YES…

…”You’re going to make me squirt.” Excuse me? OVERDRIVE thrust now. I’m doing everything in my power to make that happen. She’s on the couch, legs in the air…walls squeezing around me until she pushed out with juices flowing. Screams and moans…replayed constantly as I kept trying to make her cum. She went hard on me; had me knocked out on the couch not wanting to go to class in the morning (which I didn’t).

Sexually…

She couldn’t be any better unless she was bisexual, which unfortunately, she isn’t. I’ll keep hope alive though, perhaps I’ll sneak in a request for another lady partner while she’s cumming.

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Author: The Undresser

Black, Single, and Not Looking. Enjoys grilled salmon, cold glasses of water, and grocery shopping at Meijer. Likes women with nice ass to waist ratios, Reese Cups, and watching Real Time with Bill Maher. Dislikes cigarettes, littering, and disobedient children.

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