The black man told us his name was Barry.I could not resist the question. “Just how big is that dick of yours?”“By the look of your wife, it see...s to be bigger than yours”. When we got back to our car, they stayed outside having some quiet talk… Then Barry looked at me and said:“It is time for some piece of white ass for me…” He put his hand right behind Ana’s skirt, slipping a long finger into her soaking wet pussy as she whimpered in surprise.I stood there inside the car, watching him finger. Steven went for her hand to take the beer and with a surprising turn toward him, Jessie lit him up with a slap across his face. He looked stunned and angered. I took that as my exit. As I was walking toward the door, Steve yelled and asked me was I leaving. Acting as if I saw nothing, I said, "Wraps," and grabbed the doorknob. Jessie, now wearing a tee-shirt and tight, little blue booty shorts, ran over from the kitchen to the front door and leaped. I caught her by her thighs and I admit that I. She read for maybe a minute and then put the book down and looked around. Satisfied that nobody else was around she unceremoniously spread her legs far apart and scooted forward, pointing her crotch at me. Looking me in the eyes, she smiled in a delightfully devilish way and ran her hands along her inner thighs. I returned her smile and spread my own legs. I knew that the skirt would stretch out and give her a nice, teasing view.As soon as she saw my panty-covered pussy, her right hand moved up. I begin to shake, knowing that I'm fighting a loosing battle, I just HAVE to have this woman and in the worst way. I know she felt the same about me and therein lie the spark to our passion. It was so wrong, but so perfect, primal and raw. It was the essence of what fucking was and by right should be. So far over what "passion" was that it sat neatly in the realm of the primal. There was no love in this room at that particular moment, though I certainly did love this woman and she me, it.
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