I called Lisa. By this time, there were no surprises. Lisa spent Friday night blowing me; usually twice and then again Saturday morning. That's all she wanted and I'd learned not to push it.
Whether it was an offer to eat her pussy or "Lisa, you've got my cock so ready to fuck you, the answer was "let's not ruin a good thing, Kaz." Or something similar. After the numerous times we'd been together, it was impossible for me to believe she was always having her period.
Some time Saturday morning she left. Our only commitment to each other was that we'd see each other soon. "Don't make me wait too long, Kaz."
There was a pattern, almost like a play we'd rehearsed numerous times that never got old with Cilla. She'd wear something sexy, that emphasized her incredible body: by that I mean her tits and ass. Once in my apartment, whatever she was wearing, didn't stay on very long. "Kaz, I was looking at the Christmas issue, 1995. Chrissy Dinsworth. I think you'll like her centerfold pose; let me show you."
Cilla would undress and recreate the pose. "Cilla," I pretended to take her picture. "That would make a perfect centerfold picture. Men would go wild over you."
"Thank you, Kaz, but I think this is the pose you like best." She scooted to the edge of the bed, in front of me, spread her legs wide; showing off that bare, barely legal pussy. "You do like it?"
"Cilla, your pussy looks good enough to eat."
"Kaz, I was hoping. Hoping you'd want to worship my edible pussy. "Does it look edible today?"
I didn't answer verbally, but I did orally.
Yes, young Cilla's pussy was beautiful. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't as beautiful as I'd ever seen. Usually I worshipped that young, sweet bare pussy until Cilla begged me to fuck her.
I didn't, my tongue enjoyed that clitoris one more time and then Cilla and I would fuck each other's brains out. I used more of that Amsterdam lube with Cilla than with any other woman; even the older ones.
It wasn't that Cilla needed it; no, I wanted to lasted and last. If you'll recall that lube was also a desensitizer. That's how good the fucking was. Saturday morning, she insisted on a good-bye fuck.
I only saw Lisa and Cilla about once a month. From my perspective, it made sense, there was so much pussy out there, and when they found out who I was, they were very available. Yes, I continued to live off that Hidden Brothels of Amsterdam story.
For example: One Saturday morning, in the elevator in my building, a woman who lived in the penthouse apartment, said, "You're that writer who wrote about those whorehouses in Amsterdam."
"I am. Kazmir Swenson."
"I'm Elaine Wrentworth. My apartment has a wonderful view of the city at sunset. How about a cocktail?"
I looked at her. She appeared to be in her fifties; clearly, she colored her hair, but what woman that age didn't? And for her age, she was attractive. Tall, thin, but her boobs looked big. I wondered if she'd had some work done.
Instinctively, I knew that I'd be having more than a cocktail. I wasn't wrong. There wasn't much cocksucking or pussy eating, Elaine wanted to fuck, then fuck some more. She liked it when I was on top. She liked it when she was on top. She liked it when I fucked her like a dog.
I took the elevator down to my apartment late Sunday morning. I needed some sleep.
A few weeks later there was a note under my door: "Kaz, I haven't seen you around in a while. When you're in the mood, come up to my apartment for a sundowner, or breakfast or even some afternoon delight.-Elaine"
As you know it happened in my office with Lisa and Cilla, in bars, in the check-out line at the grocery store. An amazing encounter happened in the coffee shop I frequented near our office.
I was sitting by myself. A woman waiting in line to order kept looking at me. She stood out in the crowd. She might have been 6'7" wearing heels and was dressed very fashionably. I thought she must be very confident in herself to be so tall and wear heels. She kept looking over at me.
When I looked back at her, she'd look away. After ordering and paying for her coffee, she came over to my table. "Excuse me, I know you from somewhere; you look so familiar."
"I'm sure I don't know you. My name is Kazmir Swenson, Kaz." The coffee shop was crowded and I had a table to myself. "Please, have a seat."
"Thanks. Kaz Swenson, of course, you wrote that story about Amsterdam. I remember you from your picture. I'm Asali Nwadike, I play for Phoenix in the WNBA."
"Nice to meet you."
"Kaz, I'm Nigerian, not Dinka. All the girls on the team read your story and if I heard the stories, every girl in the league did. Of course, many of us identify with that Dinka woman. What was her name?"
"Melissa."
"Yes, Melissa." She took a pen and pad from her purse. "Kaz, here's my number. I'm in New York to see my agent. I'm trying to get traded. I'm an East Coast girl. I'm staying with my parents in Brooklyn for the next two weeks. Call me. And Kaz, my name Asali means sweet like honey." She smiled as she got up to leave.
I watched her ass as she left. I called her later that day. I didn't think one night would be enough time to get to know her; we had a weekend date.
You're probably thinking Kaz sure does like black pussy. I didn't think of it that way. I liked pussy. I identified Melissa with those prostitutes in Amsterdam and with big girls like Hannah and now Asali.
Gwendolyn, the sixty-year-old almost virgin, I identified with the almost virgin, Cilla, and the other older women like Anki, Merry Lynn and Carolina.
AnnaMae, I'd put in the same category as Elsa and Cilla with their young, bald pussies.
As for my discovery that black pussy was sweet. If you've read all the Kaz Swenson stories, every pussy I'd eaten was sweet. I don't think race ever came up except that time when Merry Lynn was concerned about introducing me to AnnaMae.
Asali arrived wearing tan shorts, sandals and a white tank top. The contrast between the tank top and her very black skin was striking. Beneath her tank top, there didn't appear to be much in the way of boobs.
"Kaz, do you know how hard it is for big girls like me to get a date; I was thrilled when you called."
"Who wouldn't want to be with a beautiful woman like you?"
"Thank you, Kaz. Like you, most men are much smaller than me. They're afraid of me."
"Why?"
"Kaz, the first thing most men think of when they see me is, damn, that woman could hurt me; and by that they mean in bed."
"Really?"
Asali, put her arms around me; her chest was right in my face. "Kaz, I promise, I won't hurt you."
"Does that mean . . ."
"Kaz, is your bedroom in there?" She smiled. "When I read about you and that Dinka woman, I could have wrung my panties out. I want to feel like you made her feel."
That tank top and her bra were off, before we crossed the threshold into my bedroom. Her shorts and thong were off shortly thereafter, as were my clothes.
Dressed, Asali was beautiful, naked with those long legs and athletic body, my cock was already hard as we started to play with each other.
I've described Carolina in Charleston as athletic and she was for a fifty-something year old woman. Asali was twenty-four and a professional athlete.
Like many of the young women I'd been with since Amsterdam, Asali recently got a wax. "It's the first thing I did when I got to New York. It feels so much cleaner," she said as my fingers began to play.
"You are anxious, aren't you?" She said as she stroked my cock. "Let's not rush it, we have plenty of time. Besides, I re-read your article since you called me. Am I wrong to thing that you have a thing for the taste of pussy?" She smiled with those big black eyes.
"Was it that obvious?" I said as I went down on her.
"It was to me. I'm so glad I got that wax." I knelt between those long legs. I ran my hands up her thighs. They were smooth, as if she'd just shaved, but they were also as hard as steel. I looked forward to them wrapped around my back; but first my head.
Asali's fingers opened her pussy; "eat me, Kaz."
"Oh my, your pussy is beautiful." As always, I enjoyed the view first. Long, thin labia majora framed labia minora that extended beyond those outer lips. Perhaps, it was the contrast, but the pink was what the paint companies call orchid pink. A magnificent orchid pink.
In further contrast, the hood covering her clitoris was purple. I kissed that pussy all over and slowly my tongued played with those extended lips. "Hmmmm, hmmmm, hmmmmm. Kaz, I'll say this for you, you don't write fiction. You do have a thing for pussy," she laughed.
"Right now, Asali, I have a thing for your pussy." My tongue opened her gash. "Hmmmmm, hmmmmm, hmmmmm, your pussy is delicious."
"How sweet of you to say."
"You're the one who's sweet." My tongue licked and licked. She held my head in her hands and sighed, slightly rocking her hips.
I've been with women who had a sensitive clitoris, but none as sensitive as Asali's. She was a crazy lady when my lips sucked on her hood-covered clitoris. It wasn't like any other reaction I'd experienced. She bucked, lifted her ass off the bed, and she was noisy. So noisy that I thought Elaine up in the penthouse apartment in my building might hear her.
I vowed not to let my lips and tongue leave her pussy and delicate clitoris. It was a chore.
After Asali came, she threw her head back on the pillow, closed her eyes and I heard her moaning softly. She was covered in sweat, as if she'd just finished a basketball game in a hot arena.
My tongue went to her opening. Her delicious pussy was leaking; that creamy liquid was scrumptious.
Minutes later, "Kaz, I never, ever do this on the first date, but after what you did to me, I can't resist. My mouth wants your cock."
I was to find that Asali never used the words cocksucker, blowjob or suck, but she was as skillful with her mouth as she was on the basketball court. Up and down my cock's shaft her lips went. Taking all of my cock; then slowly those lips would slide up until her tongue was teasing my cock head.
After viewing and tasting that pussy, I was looking forward to fucking it. At least for the time being, it wasn't too be. Why?
Asali never stopped. She may not have used the word blowjob, but that's what she was doing, and she didn't stop until I filled her mouth. Like I said, it been over two weeks since I'd last cum; for me there was a lot of it.
For a few minutes, she didn't slow down and swallowed every drop.
I had my eyes closed, enjoying the moment. Asali crawled up next to me. "Kaz, I've never had an orgasm like that. I'm over the moon; I hope I showed you my appreciation," she smiled.
"You were fantastic, and if that's how you show your appreciation, I can't wait to eat your pussy again."
She laughed, "you rest for a bit. When you're ready, so will my pussy." Asali snuggled against my chest.
I reveled in my own orgasm, closed my eyes, enjoying the moment.
Somewhat later, "I'm still all sweaty, I'm going to get washed up. Kaz, I want my pussy to be nice and clean for you."
When she came back to bed, "Kaz, the way you went after my pussy, I assumed you want to eat it again. Do I need to remind you that Asali means sweet like honey?" At the moment, Asali was on top of the bed, legs spread.
"It's been so long and my memory isn't what used to be. Perhaps, I need a refresher," I laughed. I went down on her.
"Oh, you definitely need a refresher."
Her pussy was as she'd informed me as sweet as honey and when my tongue and lips massaged her clitoris, it was only minutes before she was climbing the walls. Later I found scratch marks on my headboard. "Awwwww, awwwww, awwwww," Asali moaned loudly; louder than earlier. "Awwwwww, awwwwwww, awwwwww, you're making me cum, Kaz, I'm cumming, I'm cumming."
As she came, Asali pulled my hair. I barely noticed. "Oh God, oh God, oh God."
She was breathing heavy. "Kaz, that was even more amazing than before. Come up here."
I snuggled against her chest, kissing her small tits, with nipples that were now standing up almost a half inch and hard.
"My pussy has never felt so good. Kaz, I'm ready to show you my appreciation but would you be disappointed if I wanted your cock in my pussy, not in mouth, please?"
"Hmmmmmm, now that's something I've thought about since you gave me your phone number." I mounted her, sucking those hard nipples.
Asali guided my cock to her entrance. She surprised me again. She held my cock in her hand and rubbed against her clitoris. "Kaz, I want to cum again before we start."
Essentially, she was masturbating, using my cock as her toy. I didn't mind. "Oooooooh, ooooooh, ooooooooooh, ooooooh, oooooooh, ooooooh, oh, God, I'm cumming. I'm cumming, oh, I'm cumming. Oooooooh, oooooooh."
And then just like that she pushed my cock into her entrance. "Fuck me, Kaz, fuck me."
It was the wildest ride. World class athletes are just different. The way they move; the way they understand their bodies. Her body parts moved in sync like a ballet dancer except it wasn't Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, it was AC/DC or Guns 'N Roses.
In my story about the women in Charleston, specifically Carolina Campbell Callaway. I called her one of the finest fucks in the western hemisphere. That was still true, but only because Nigeria wasn't in the western hemisphere. It's impossible to compare, but I was getting the best fuck of my life.
Just like when Asali was using my cock to make herself cum; she knew how to make herself cum while fucking me. Orgasms after orgasm swept over her. I could have used noise canceling earbuds, she was so loud.
As for me, I didn't have time to use that lube. However, my cock was thinking for itself. There was no way I was going to end this greatest of all fucks.
Over the next two days, it was more of the same. Asali showed her appreciation for my pussy eating with either a great blowjob or an incredible fuck. She dictated which one, but I didn't care.
Asali and I didn't promise each other anything; a promise I'd likely not be able to keep anyhow. She did promise that when Phoenix played in New York, we'd see each other.
I didn't really work out that way. Usually when Phoenix had a game in New York, they'd fly in late at night, get to their hotel and get some sleep. Later that morning, they'd have a brief practice then get some rest before for the game. There was no time and Asali expended so much energy in bed, she'd never be able to play her best. After the game, they'd get on a plane for the next city and next game.
I did follow her career. She was one of the better players in the league and a member of the Nigerian National Team. Asali was a world class athlete; and as she'd demonstrated, not just on the court. Phoenix never agreed to trade her.
It wasn't just Elaine Wrenthworth, in the penthouse upstairs or Asali, it happened frequently. Another that stood out soon followed.
TO BE CONTINUED
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