Brockton BBW Gets Anal In Library

Hairy

Sometimes, past meets present. There’s really not much you can do about it. My name is Steven James Vermont and I’m a big and tall, openly bisexual Haitian-American urban fiction writer living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. I’m currently working on a book about the life of a black, gay male state police officer, his family and friends, and their ups and downs in early 1990s New York City. The book involves his investigation into the lifestyle of a corrupt governor, his hidden lifestyle and his wife, the daughter of a Mafia Don. So far, I’ve got about three hundred and thirty pages. It’s fast-paced, with an urban style and true grit. However, I can’t come up with an ending.

I’ve been working on this damn thing for six months now and it’s bugging me. Big-time. So this fine Saturday morning, I went out on the city to unwind. Guess who I ran into at the public library? My old pal Wendy Sylvan Posse. Man, she looked mad different. How times had changed. Then again, I hadn’t seen her in a couple of years. Back when we first met at Bay State University, Wendy was a tall, skinny black chick with braces and way too much acne. She was also rail-thin, flat-chested and flat-assed. She had a crush on me but I only wanted to be friends with her. Truth be told, she just wasn’t my type.

There are certain things which no person on the planet, man or woman, can change about themselves. You can’t fake the funk, folks. What do I mean by that? No one chooses who they’re attracted to. All they can choose is whether or not to act on that attraction. Me, I’ve always been attracted to both women and men. I liked my women to be tall, between five-foot-ten and six feet, and to have thick bodies, wide hips and big butts. They could be black, white, Asian, Latin or whatever. Race didn’t matter to me. As for my men, I liked them to be good-looking, between five-foot-two and six feet tall. As long as they’re cute, and good in bed, I could care less about the details.

Yeah, anyhow, back to the story. Sorry about that. Sometimes, my mind simply wanders. bursa escort I saw my old pal Wendy and she was looking really different. The five-foot-ten, rail-thin, no-tits and butt-less black chick had really changed. For starters, she put on a couple of pounds. The Wendy I knew only weighed about one hundred and twenty pounds. The Wendy that stood before me easily topped two hundred pounds. She was looking really good, too. I’ve always had a thing for thick women. Skinny women never did anything for this brother. I really liked the way Wendy looked. Her tits were huge. Her body was thick. Her hips were wide. And her ass, oh my gosh! Her ass was huge, round and brown! I had a hard-on just looking at that thing.

Wendy was surprised to see me at the library. Apparently, she’d moved to Brockton from the city of Malden a few months ago. She was living in Brockton’s South Side with her husband Stefan and her mother, Isabel. These days, she worked as a manager at a small restaurant. Well, she was doing okay, that was good to hear. The Wendy I remembered from Bay State University basically let everybody walk all over her. Especially a clique of moronic females she used to hang out with. I cannot for the life understand why she walked around with them. Wendy wasn’t exactly a week dame either. She was the captain of the Bay State University Women’s Rugby team. She fell in with a crowd of hangers-on who hung with her only because of her status as a star athlete on campus. They hated her and didn’t seem to care whether she knew it or not. And she was always happy to take them places and pay for stuff. Is that dumb or what? I don’t like a woman who’s a mean-spirited bitch but a doormat is totally and absolutely unappealing. Stand up for yourself, know what I mean?

Wendy asked me what I was doing around these parts. I smiled when she asked that. Back at Bay State University, a lot of people didn’t think of me as the book writer type. That’s people for you. They see you in one setting, doing one thing and they make all these assumptions about bursa escort bayan who you’re supposed to be. I don’t know where these hussies and knuckleheads get their damn ideas. I enrolled at Bay State University four years ago on a student-athlete scholarship. Bay State University was fielding men’s and women’s intercollegiate Rugby teams at the varsity level for the first time and they went scouting for athletes nationwide.

I’ve always been a fan of Rugby. I played a lot growing up in the Republic of Haiti. Not every Haitian is crazy about Soccer. Get over it. Playing Division One Rugby seemed like a dream come true for me. Especially at an athletic powerhouse like Bay State University. The school’s athletic department sponsors men’s intercollegiate Baseball, Basketball, Cross Country, Golf, Tennis, Wrestling, Water Polo, Volleyball, Swimming, Lacrosse, Ice Hockey, Football, Soccer, Rugby, Fencing and Gymnastics along with women’s intercollegiate Softball, Basketball, Cross Country, Golf, Tennis, Wrestling, Swimming, Lacrosse, Ice Hockey, Field Hockey, Soccer, Water Polo, Rugby, Fencing, Equestrian, Volleyball and Gymnastics. Most of the athletes were young Caucasian men and women. Black athletes dominated on popular varsity sports teams like men’s and women’s Basketball, men’s Football, women’s Volleyball and men’s and women’s Rugby. Wendy and I were talented black athletes determined to show the world what Haitian-American sportspeople could do.

So, as you can see, we had a lot in common. I liked the lady. I simply wasn’t attracted to her. I was having fun with other gay and bisexual guys along with a few straight and bisexual girls who were more my type. But now, I was seeing Wendy in a brand new light. I’m not going to lie to you, folks. I wanted her. And I could tell she wanted me. Without a word being spoken, we went to the Archives Room for some play. As soon as we got there, Wendy and I got down and dirty. She went straight for my dick. She unzipped my pants, and began sucking my cock. Somehow, she fit my nine inches of long escort bursa and thick, uncut black cock in her rather small mouth. I couldn’t believe it!

Wendy sucked on my cock like it was pumping life into her mouth. I couldn’t believe this young black woman’s eagerness. When I came, she drank all of my manly seed. Afterwards, the really nasty stuff began. I bent Wendy over a table and put her on all fours. I spread her plump black butt cheeks wide open and fingered her asshole. Then, I began licking her asshole. She really liked that. After a while, I rubbed my cock against her backdoor. She begged me to stick it in. I was waiting for her to say that. With a swift thrust, I plunged my cock into Wendy’s asshole. The big black woman’s scream was a sound I would never forget for as long as I lived.

Man, I didn’t know Wendy Posse could scream like that. I liked it! I smacked her big ass, watching it jiggle as I rammed my cock deep into her asshole. When fucking someone in the ass, whether male or female, I don’t believe in the tender approach. Anal sex must be rough, tough and fast-paced. It’s the only way I get to enjoy the experience. And if my sex partner must walk with a slight limp or forsake normal bowel movements for a couple of days, then that’s his or her problem. With that in mind, I slammed my cock into Wendy’s shit hole like butt-fucking was going out of style. Hard and fast, I plunged my cock into her bung hole like a hammer. She screamed. She wailed. She tried to flee. I grabbed her and held her firmly in place as I sodomized her. We went at it until I got my rocks off, blasting my load deep into her asshole. Wendy’s scream filled the Archives Room, which was fortunately sufficiently isolated from the rest of the library for her to go unheard. Lucky me!

Afterwards, the two of us readjusted our clothes and returned to the library’s main floor together. Wendy walked a little funny but that’s to be expected of any woman after she’s had a thorough butt fucking, courtesy of the awesome rod of power owned by none other than yours truly. Wendy left the library shortly after, but not before leaving me her number. I smiled, and pocketed it. Then I went back to work. I still got a novel to finish, you know. These things don’t finish themselves.