My body is his, fully and completely. My mind is not far behind. I can’t say “no” to him. I wouldn’t want to anyway. He owns every part of me, and tells me so. He knows how to treat me, never asking too much. It’s probably why I give him so much of myself to him.
I watch as he takes down his boxers, his chisled body, like a work of art, smooth and jagged at the same time. Hard angles and muscular edges with soft, vascular skin. I feel like I can watch his heartbeat in his arms.
Nipsey Hussle’s intricate flow floats in the air, along with thick weed smoke and I am transported from the bedroom to full bliss. My lips surround his thick, black cock and envelope him completely. He stands in front of me, one leg propped up on the bed. I take him deeper and deeper, salivating at his scent, his taste, his essence.
Always fresh, always ready, he places his hand firmly on my head and pushes me further onto his engorged member. He face fucks me, saliva dripping down onto the hardwood floor, his hand wrapped firmly around my ponytail. I take him fully, gleefully, to the back of my throat.
He pushes me back and tells me to spread my legs, so I do. He directs his cock near my entrance and stops just before entering, rubbing the tip from my hole to my clit. I begin to gush. I clench my pussy muscles, willing him inside me. Gripping the tip with all my strength. Desperately trying to suck it in.
He flirts with the possibility, before pushing it in, just a little, and circling his hips. I’m practically begging him to just put it inside me, feeling the wetness increase. He teases me a little longer, lingering at my entrance.
Finally, he pushes himself in at his full length, my pussy instantly clenching around him and squirting without thought. The wetness splashes up my body and to my face as he pumps away at me.
“I own this pussy,” he asserts.
“It’s yours. You own my pussy, my body, ev-ery-thi-nnnnnnng.”
He increases his speed and depth and starts exploring every angle, before slowing and probing the exact spots to make me squirt. I keep cumming, as he switches his hands around so he’s cupping my breasts and playing with my nipples. I can feel every touch, every inch, every sensation.
I never want it to end.
Have you ever experienced a kind of trust that made surrender feel like freedom?
If this story resonated with you, restack or share it with someone who understands the complicated intimacy of trust, desire, and surrender.
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