The hand was caressing him. His cock was hard. Achingly hard. He needed... needed desperately to relieve the pressure, to spill his seed, to come in a...gloriously cascading fountain, a triumphant shout of I am! Not yet. No, the hand still stroked, stroked his balls, stroked his shaft, but denied him relief.Now! Now his cock was moving in the pussy, the mysterious pussy that accompanied the hand, the slick and pulsating pussy, the magic pussy, the pussy that always... But, still he couldn't get. Then another thought came to me. A darker thought. An even more insanely powerful thought that literally made me soak through my leggings leaving a wet spot I would have to disguise later. What if it wasn't the doctor fucking me? What if it wasn’t even the black dildo? What if it actually was a real, living, breathing black man who had me in the bed down the hall and he was fucking me, filling me like I’ve never been filled before, bouncing me on his cock like a slender white rag doll. And as I. More

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