Hate is a strong word I try to keep out of my arsenal, but if I was the type to throw it around, then I’d say I hate this story! I touched it up with some incredible edible word play, but I should’ve rebooted or scrapped it altogether. I just have this thing where I want everything I write to mean something, so I kept it around. 

I have a format to follow, so like the stories to come before it, 40 Women, 40 Nights get the teaser treatment. Check it out:  

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“Damn!
How I’ma get outta this shit?” Pants wrapped around his ankles,
Jordans still snug, Travis quivered as Kelly left a sizzling saliva
trail cruising down the length of his shaft. He felt like he was
melting into the sofa cushion as her mouth and tongue raced back up
to
his
mushroom tip.


“I
can’t believe this. This crazy white boy got a phat ass dick. Bootleg
Tom Cruise lookin’ muthafucka!” Kelly went to work in amazement, in
disbelief at how moist she became with Travis’s meat stick pumping
in and out of her mouth. She was on fire, unable to control the busy
hand that wandered from her breast to that wet spot between her legs.
Yeah, she had this situatin well in hand, proven when she intensely
squeezed his nuts like a stress ball while nibbling at the head.


“Fuck!
This is unreal. How am I doing this?” Travis’s private pleas were
drowned out by his surroundings. The tune of the ceiling fan spinning manically above them.
The faint sound of the anchor man reviewing the dread of the day on
Action News. The loud, squishy sound of Kelly slurping his steel rod
like it housed a golden piece of chocolate in the center.


No
matter how much guilt he experienced within, nothing could chop down
the magnificent piece of lumber he erected. He was taken back by each
mind blowing gulp she hit him with. Travis couldn’t help lurching
forward a bit to sneak a peek at what was a head of him – yoga
pants peeled back just enough to reveal a plump booty rocking back and
forth, juicy as ever, flared out in a perfect spread.


Kelly
must’ve been a reader of minds because her actions indicated that
she knew exactly what he craved – a taste of that sweet na na! She
applied one last lingering lick to the stiffness, climbed over him,
then relaxed her hands and face on the wall before dropping it to
lips. “Tell me what that taste like,” she boasted, biting down on
her quivering lip. Squatting those glistening Southern lips to his
own, Kelly grasped him by his full head of hair and commenced to
direct the motion, engulfing his face in her soaking wet folds with no remorse, ambitiously riding his face like a bike seat.

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