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For you white girls reading this let me tell you, sexual stimulation never ends when you are in the presence of a Brother. The Black Man spoke and the white slaves jumped at his command. While the two inferior beings were busy attending to the needs of our crotches, Abe and I continued fondling and kissing each other.

I found out two things for sure that night -- the fact that Black Men are much better endowed than white males is no myth -- and I realized that I could never go back to the Anglo Sexless world of wimps. It was a baptism in that I was born again, and I was cutting any ties that would bind me to that useless, boring existence. I didn't go home that night and I didn't bother calling paul to let him know that I wasn't coming home. Abe and I bedded down in one of the many bedrooms in Cyndi's mansion (palace.) Abe and I made love several more times throughout the night with no outside help this time.

The morning fuck session

When I awoke the next morning, I felt satisfied and fulfilled as never before. Abe was still sound asleep. I kissed him gently on the lips being careful not to wake him. Then I stealthily slipped under the covers and kissed his tennis-sized balls and lovely cock. Then giving him one last kiss on the lips, I got out of bed and attempted to leave; but I couldn't. His body was like a giant magnet whose force I couldn't break. I had to have one last fling -- I threw myself on top of his prostrate body and began kissing him with the same fervor as I did the night before. My lust for this man was insatiable.

Abe responded and once again we were copulating. His giant, fat cock buried deep within me forcing the walls of my vagina as far apart as they have ever been. He filled me so completely that I felt as if he were a natural part of my body. Once again, Abe left a large deposit of his sweet nectar deep inside of me.

I was addicted to this Black Master -- I couldn't stop kissing him. I kissed him all over his body, occasionally licking him to taste the sweat of his body. Then I went down to his cock. I attempted to suck his cock, but this time with much more assurance, and also with much more success than the night before. I milked his swollen penis with my hands in much the same way a white city boy would milk a bull if he happened to visit a farm and the farmer told him to go milk a cow. While milking Abe's manhood with both hands, semen was still flowing from that magnificent Black Piston and I drained him with my mouth. His semen went down my throat with much the same need as a bee gathering the nectar from a flower.

Lots of Black Semen for white ladies

I went to the bathroom and cleaned up. By the time I came out of the bathroom, Abe was once again fast asleep. So I dressed quietly so as not to wake him again. As I prepared to leave, I smiled and gave him one last look before leaving, but I had to go back to give him one last kiss. The only problem is I couldn't stop at one, or two, or three. What was the use? Once more I found myself tearing my clothes off and we once more we were making hot, passionate love. Unbelievably, we both climaxed yet another time. For the average white male, one or two climaxes a week is the norm, and the amount of their semen is minimal when compared to a Brother. For the prolific Black Man, there seems to be no limit. Are you white girls getting this?

By the time I finally got back home, it was well into the afternoon, and paul had long been at work. He left me a nasty note questioning my whereabouts. It pisses me off when he takes that tone with me. With that, I exhaustedly crawled into bed. I had no sooner closed my than the phone rang -- it was paul. I told him he was going to regret writing me that nasty note, almost as much as annoying me with his phone call. I went on to tell him that if he disturbed me with that phone or woke me up when he came home from work, he'd have hell to pay. With that, I hung up on him and went back to sleep.

Later that evening, the ringing of the phone woke me up. As I fumbled to find the phone in the darkened bedroom, paul entered the room with the kitchen phone in his hand. He apologized and said it wasn't his fault that the phone kept ringing. He said he kept hanging up on the guy, but the guy became very insistent. I reached for the phone while asking paul who it was. He said, "it's some nigger named Abe."

Wife slaps hubby hard across the face

I jumped out of bed and confronted paul, asking him to repeat what he had just said. When h