First Taste of Bacardi
seem a little bit shocked. She figured he wasn’t used to women telling him no,
especially after he had just fucked them so satisfactory with his big cock!
Not Really Home
Anna drove slowly and the car made it home with no further problems. True to his word,
the locksmith followed her to what he thought was her house. She had him follow her to
the street she actually lived on; but she parked almost a block away. When she didn’t
bother to get out, Smitty pulled up alongside Anna’s car to make sure she was alright.
“You good?” he asked, secretly hoping that she was, so he could be on his way. He had
already spent way more time than he had wanted to, following her home, but he figured
it was the least he could do. Man, after that fucking blow job and all that sweet ass!
Anna motioned as if the house she was in front of was where she really lived, instead of
the four-plex apartment building down the street. She waved him on, not even bothering
to roll down the window. Anna didn’t want any polite chitchat or unnecessary
conversation. He had served his purpose; several times! Now she just needed him to
go. Before Anna had even lowered her hand good from waving him off – he was gone!
Motha’ fucka’. Good riddance.
Anna stayed in the car trying not to think while she waited. She didn’t want to go home
and have the man double back, like he had done after she nearly hit his car earlier. He
had been a diversion, but now that he was gone, her thoughts automatically returned to
Bacardi. Anna was disgusted for wondering if she’d ever see her again, even after
everything she suspected about her. What would Bacardi do with the video tape Anna
suspected she had made? Would her and her scandalous lover China lay back and
watch it; laughingly, while they ate each other’s pussy some more? Anna became
insanely jealous at the thought. Anna wanted to taste Bacardi on her lips again, right
then and there. What in the fuck is my damn problem???
Home for Real
After all it had been through that day, her pussy had the nerve to begin to throb for
Bacardi. “I hate that bitch!” Anna lied to herself out loud. She rested her head on the
steering wheel and resisted the urge to cry. She wanted to cry because she had liked
Anna, only to find out she was a sneaky conniving bitch who took advantage of people.
She wanted to cry because she had no idea what they planned to do with the explicit
video they had taken of her. She wanted to cry because she was so drunk off of
Bacardi, that she had nearly killed herself tonight. But most of all, Anna wanted to cry
because she had just fucked a total stranger with a dick made of steel, and even now,
she desired Bacardi’s pussy even more than ever.
Anna pulled all the way in the back to the carport for her building. She had waited fifteen
whole minutes, to make sure Smitty didn’t return. The way that motha’ fucka’ peeled out
of here, I doubt that he’s coming back anyway. Anna got out the car, making a mental
note to have Shane check out her spare tire tomorrow. As Anna approached her unit,
she felt like she was going to throw up. Damn! Please don’t let me make it all the way