Filth ain't filth if it's funny!
I was digging this Blaxican. We exchanged text messages from the time we woke up in the morning, until we fell asleep in exhaustion at night.
He didn’t spell very well but he sent pictures of his manhood expertly.
The camera was always close to the tip or stalk-I thought they were artistic.
After a couple of failed attempts to meet up, he declared that I was scared of his dick and he’d break my back. So I drove over one night to get back surgery.
It was exactly 2 1/4 inches long and the circumference of a U.S quarter coin. I was young to late night creeping so we were already laying on the bed when I discovered his lack of dick.
Too passive to get up and leave, but not so passive that I felt the need to fake excitement.
I pulled my panties to the side and let him thrust as far as he could go, which was between my pussy lips.
With each useless hump he talked to me. Once. Take it, he said.
Twice. Don’t run from this dick, he said. One more half thrust and it was done.
I stared up at the ceiling, biting my lips. Telling myself not to be rude, it was over. Best forgotten.
I pulled my panties back in place, my dress down, and gave him the peace sign.The drive home lasted longer than the sex and was more satisfying.
Needless to say, I have no back pain.