As I was drinking, he was slowly tracing my neck with his finger. I smiled at me as he started dipping them into my cleavage.I was getting intoxicated...with desire as he casually removed my strap to reveal my right boob. My breath started quickening. He dipped his finger into his drink, put the alcohol on my nipple and started licking it. I arched my back for him…granting access and more so, granting him the permission to take me.He was quick to understand. He started flicking my nipple with his. I grew up on the instant stuff.’ says one, a clean shaven white man. His sparse, snowy hair is carefully combed. He wears an old bomber jacket over a blue button-up cotton shirt. One leg of his khaki pants is tied in a neat knot where the corresponding limb ends just below the knee. A pair of battered crutches are tucked in their usual spot behind the bench. ‘It is only for you, my friend,’ replies the gaunt Sikh sharing the bench with him, ‘that I make my son stock a can of those awful. “Mmmmm,” he murmurs, “you smell edible, I’d very much like to taste and find out.” I can barely breathe as he brushes my hair away from my neck and presses his lips against my neck. I was not used to men being this forward; it was thrilling and terrifying all at the same time. His whiskers both tickled and arouse me. I can’t believe I was actually allowing someone to kiss me without knowing anything about them. “Have you ever been with a black man before darlin?” he murmurs while softly. Seconds after closing the door I was already completely naked and lay on my back on the big bed thinking about the scene at the airport and trying to remember every minute detail of that encounter. My right hand was erotically massaging my stiff cock while I rubbed my face with the left one smelling the intoxicating scent of that black man’s cum. I had the most fantastic fantasies about that cock and what I would do to and with it. Purposely, for the longest time I touched myself only lightly.
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