Then he whispered ever so sarcastically. "Tell me you want my black cock to fuck your tight, white cunt. Tell me or else. I want your white ass bitch ...nd I want to hear you say it. Say you want my black cock!" he whispered while pulling her tender nipples with a wild fury. There was no respite for Lori as he relentlessly pumped in and out. "Oh my gawd. I'm being fucked by a black man," she began the dire protest which quickly turned into a complete confession. "Gawd, you're so deep, your black. She reached me and gently tugged on my shirt collar, imploring me to stand up. When I did so, she didn't say anything, just tracing her finger from my lips, down my chest, across my lower waist and just above my crotch, and back up to the back of my neck, that crooked little smile of hers never leaving her face. She then grabbed to bottom of my T-shirt and pulled it upwards, and I raised my arms to make it easier for her to remove it from my body. Her breath caught a little as she looked at my. The way she keeps looking at me from time to time, with that look of lowly pity... and disgust.Well what the hell does she want from me? Not everyone can be as good as she is! Not every one can be righteous and sinless. I have to pay the bills somehow.Besides, what's it too her that I do what I do? She doesn't know the hours I put in the gym, toning my body to perfection. She doesn't know how it's like performing before a bunch of salivating men. Its hard work. Why should she care what its all. ’) And I bought her a copy of Zora Neale Hurston’s ‘Their Eyes Were Watching God.’ When she called me up the next night to tell me how she had loved the novel, I was hooked deeply, maybe too deeply. An old saying went through my head: measure a relationship after the fifth date. We had done nothing more than kiss up until that point, and it took almost three months to fit in five dates around our work and around our responsibilities for our kids. But we were emailing after the first date. The.