Boy Pussy MxM (Staten Krown)

1

I was in love with Storm Underwood.

When you are in love you don't fuck around. No. You go balls deep in love. You feel the skin of love. No lube necessary. You thrust in love. Over and over. Deeper and deeper until your body shutters in pleasure. You climax in love. You don't pull out. Ever. That's what love is. That's how I felt about Storm Underwood.

"Ay you..."

Storm Underwood was looking at me.

He has on a leather D Squared jacket and some ripped up jeans with Timberland boots. He has a man braid at the top of his head but the sides are trimmed down and edged up with a razor. His beard is perfect as though it was created with mathematical precision.

"Me?"

My voice rattles. You ever had bitch in your throat? I mean not just regular bitch. I sound like a white girl from San Francisco all of a sudden. I sound like my parents have a trust fund. I forget where I am. I forget who I am when he looks at me. I become someone else. All of a sudden I sound like my name is Daisy instead of Demarco.

"Yeah, lil' nigga," he tells me, "You. Ain't no one else around is there?"

"No."

"Exactly. Come here."

Fuck.

"Um. Ok," I respond.

I walk closer. Storm Underwood was sex. He was chocolate. It wasn't just milk chocolate either. No. Storm was dark chocolate. His skin had the consistency of velvet. There wasn't a flaw in sight. You couldn't fake shit like that. He was a melanin man, a bronzed beauty, a glowing god and an Amber Adonis all rolled up in one. He was 6'4". His muscles were the things legends were made of. His eyes were almond shaped like perfect ovals. His lips were big like his hands. You know what they said about men with big hands.

I would swallow his nut and use it as a diet plan. He probably didn't even nut. He probably just oozed honey from his dick. I would let him do ungodly things to me. I'm talking Satanist ritualistic type shit. He could do ALL that. Shit, I'd let him fuck every hole I had. If that wasn't enough for Storm Underwood, he could make his own entryways. I wanted to be his personal hole puncher. I wanted to be his portable nut rag.

Just do what you got to do with me Mr. Underwood. I won't say shit.

Just do me Daddy.

"Do I know you? You look familiar"

"I don't know."

Lies. Why the fuck was I lying to Storm Underwood?

"Oh," he responds.

Storm Underwood comes in my best friends Cupid's tailoring shop every Sunday to get his clothes dry cleaned.

Every Sunday I stare Storm down like he was the 2nd coming of Jesus. Truth is he might as well be because I most definitely wanted to testify on his dick.

"I have your pants ready," Cupid tells Storm, "You want to try them on?"

"Sure do. Thanks man."

Storm had his pants tailored. He's throwing a white party this weekend. Storm heads towards the back and Cupid nearly faints from the slight second he brushed past Storm's fingers with his fingers. Cupid and I have both had huge crushes on Storm since we were much younger. I wasn't surprised Cupid was pretending to faint over the counter as soon as Storm goes into the back.

"He spoke to me," I state, fanning myself at that moment.

"Bitch, fuck words. He touched my hand," Cupid states.