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I didn't fall for Des. Brant didn't fall for Bobbi.

It wasn't like that.

I didn't fall for Des. I fell for Des' big black dick. Brant didn't fall for Bobbi. He fell for her sweet Jamaican pussy.

Here's how serious we were.

In our three-bedroom suburban home, one of the bedrooms was large enough to serve as a second master with some minor renovations.

When I entertained Des that was my bedroom. Brant used our bedroom to entertain Bobbi. Yes, we invited them to our home.

Every other Friday afternoon, a private car, not a taxi picked up Des. I met him at the door, sometimes in something sexy; sometimes, naked.

Brant and I each bought a big comfy arm chair for our bedrooms. I led Des to my bedroom, helped him undress and led him to that chair.

Today, I was wearing what looked like a ballerina's tutu. No tights, no nothing. I modeled for him until I slowly removed the tutu. Then I didn't hesitate to get on my knees. That's how I spent the next few hours.

"That's my good girl. Show Des how much you love his big black dick." He didn't have to ask. I'd been looking forward to it. I sucked, then sucked some more. "You missed my black cock, didn't you?"

I just nodded. I mean, a girl can't talk with all that cock in my mouth.

Sometimes I licked, teased and of course, rubbed my face all over his big ball sack. "Des, you have the most amazing cock. So big, so beautiful. So tasty. Thank you giving me the pleasure of pleasing it."

He pushed my head back on it. "You know what I want to see."

What he wanted to see was me deep throat that big cock, which by now I could easily do. "Hmmmm, hmmmmmm, hmmmmmm," I sucked.

I didn't make him cum. That was part of what we did. I sucked until he got close. That's when I got the joy of rubbing his balls in my face. Des got out of the chair and I got on my back on the bed. Des knelt over me with that ball sack hanging in my face.

You can't believe how wet I got from all of that.

It wasn't until Saturday morning that I got my pussy taken care of, but only if Des thought I was deserving. By that I mean if Des thought I'd been his good girl Friday night. If I'd proven how much I loved his cock.

If Des stayed in bed Saturday morning, I knew he was going to do me. If he got up and sat in that comfy chair, I knew he wasn't completely pleased with my effort last night. I'd just have to try harder; try to blow him better. I quickly got on my knees and began to suck. I wasn't disappointed.

When I say he was going to do me, I mean he was going to eat my pussy. Eat me with his marvelous tongue that made me cum and cum; and beg and beg.

Beg for his cock; beg for it to fuck me and what Des liked best: "please, Des, let me suck it. Let me suck your big black dick. Please."

I was so grateful when he let me.

I was grateful when he fucked me, too. Fucked me like a dog.

On a different block in Harlem, another private car picked up Bobbi and brought her to our suburban home. Brant was waiting for her. Waiting for her to get undressed so he could get on his knees. As I'd spent Friday night on my knees blowing Des, Brant spent Friday night eating Bobbi's pussy.

Unlike me, Brant didn't care if he fucked her or if she blew him. As he told me, "Jan, Bobbi has a sweet, sweet pussy."

"Brant, baby, be a good boy and make love to my Jamaican pussy. You know how Bobbi likes it."

The truth was that Brant didn't need to be asked. He'd been looking forward to eating Bobbi's pussy; or as she called it, her Jamaican pussy, all week. When I wasn't around, I knew he jerked off thinking of eating her.

I didn't mind. When Bobbi left, Brant couldn't wait to show me how he'd eaten her. He showed me, then showed me again and again. That's why I graciously invited her into our home. Besides, he didn't object to me doing Des. Of course, after Des left, I couldn't wait to show Brant how I blew Des.

Brant thought it was the coolest thing when I rubbed his ball sack all over my face and when I showed him how to kneel over me and rub his balls in my face.

TO BE CONTINUED

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