(M/F) Tortuga the Haitian Jr NCO | 2016

I had almost given up on soldiers entirely. So close. My love of the Air Force is real and it’s deep. But this one… he special. Everybody loves a medic, right? RAWR! Under 6 foot, very dark, very sweet, and fun. (Haitian Creole is hot- fun fact I learned from this encounter, creole in this context refers to a combination of languages that form a mother tongue. Haitian Creole is French and Afrikaans. Boom, you learned something new today- you’re welcome.) We’ve talked before but I’d long forgotten our previous chats, and apparently he was on my snap chat. Enjoy that shit show, anybody who’s watching. There are days I want to share my snap chat ID on here… then I remember I show my face, my mom is still alive, and not every person who CAN read understands my humor. Stop taking screen shots of my herpes and abortion jokes you uncultured swine! (But really, kiss me before the herpes flares back up.) I’m kidding. I took my Valtrex today, you’re safe. Or was that a pez… anyway, my soldier lover for the night I met up with for dinner at a local, and delightful, eatery and holy hell was that everything I’ve ever wanted. Moscow Mule down the hatch, conversation was stellar, food was great. He’s headed back to unpack some shit, I have a level to beat in my game… I invite him over to help me crush some Brutes. He’s down. We exchange numbers, I text him my address, and off we go in separate vehicles.

I should mention here he is fully aware of my blog, though I don’t think he’s read it. We talked a bit about my lifestyle, and even how I’m pretty much just avoiding his branch altogether currently, after a long string of completely worthless hookups. Much to the amusement of Good Will Hunting, and all my Airmen. He completely gets it. Oh, Mr. Frat Boy understands! We talked about ex’s and dating, college, traveling. His life growing up sounded neat. We got about halfway through the fucking level and we needed to just give up. He hasn’t played, I’m not that great, we’re not going to beat this motherfucker tonight. Whatever. At one point he asked, to clarify, that the brown guys were the enemy. I confirmed, and added “just like in real war.” I made him laugh. We talk for a bit and then he makes his move. Oh… oh yes. Makeout with mah face, el Negro! (I just looked up Negro in Haitian Creole and it said nwa… I fell like they win this round.) I didn’t notice him unhooking my bra while we were sucking tongues and he was biting me. Crafty sumbitch…well, clearly we need to take this party to somewhere other than my lumpy, awful couch I couldn’t give away for homeless people to smash hams on. To the rape cave! Is that joke more or less funny because he’s Black? Oh by the way, he laughed at all my casual racism jokes- and called me savage. Please unclutch your fucking pearls, middle class white women. Sometimes colored people can take a joke just as well as we can appropriate their cultures. Or maybe he was banking my white privilege because he has a boom stick and planned on beating me to death with it from the inside. Little of column A, little of column B.

Once we hit the bed we chat a little bit and he moves in for the kill. I’m excited. I’ll tell you why after. He’s kissing me and his hands have been fairly reserved this whole time. He’s not being aggressive or too fast, just letting the chemistry smoothly move us forward. Clearly we’re both into each other, we have the time to do this right, there’s no rush. The nipple rings are in his mouth and my eyes are rolling, wtf was he doing with his tongue because that was great. So much clickity-clackity going on. Now I have a treat for him… my trademark 2 handed HJ, and my marvelous mouth. Hold on tight! Suffice to say, he was not prepared for my oral presentation. I started out with my hands and he tells me to slow down almost immediately, because he doesn’t want to finish. He doesn’t want to disappoint me. But wait, there’s more! I slow my stroke, switch it up a bit with the hands- everything I do has him squirming, swearing, and making “the Africa face.” My mouth brought him to ecstasy. I don’t let him finish, but I edged the fuck outta that boy so hard I had him seeing stars. He’s uncut, my favorite. It didn’t always used to be this way, but I’ve grown a fondness for foreskin now that I’ve had it and can feel the difference. Also, he’s big. Not BBC mythology big, but larger than average by a good margin- in the right ways. Thick and not so long it will hurt. Lawd have mercy, I want to sit on it so bad!

Slowly but surely he starts making his way down my body, kissing and nuzzling everything. Even my extra squishy belly got some luvin’. Pushing my leg up he begins his careful descent to my nether region. I’m not shaved, but it’s short. He runs his tongue across my thighs one at a time, and kisses them softly. Event behind my knee (pro tip, this is a very sensitive spot- do things to it, she’ll thank you,) before I feel the tip of his tongue gently travel up my outter labia, one side after the other, then the inner pair, meeting at the clitoris. Oh. Fuck. Me. He’s so careful. Methodical. Someone has had lots of practice. He sucks on my inner lips intermittently but focuses most of his attention on my clit and also tongue-fucking my lady gash. I’m losing my mind and trying to hold my thighs apart while I cum. Mr. Man brought me to climax a few times and he was enjoying every second of it. He comes up for air and to tell me I taste so good, then we makeout and I tell him I know I taste good. I want him. I want it now. We’re pressed together, naked, he’s moved my hands up as a show of control and I’m for it. Once our engines are completely revved up I pull him into me and he lets out gasped expletive. I probably did too, that is a perfect penis. We fit very well together. He likes missionary position as it’s the only way he can cum, I’m all for it but I like to move around before the big finale- know what I mean? I’m talking dirty to him. I want to hear him say my magic words ‘I love fucking you.’ Dunno why it’s that phrase in particular, but its pushed me over the edge more times than I can count so why fix what ain’t broken. Every time I climax on his disco stick I push him out unintentionally. I’m sorry, She-Hulk has spoken. He cums when I do, hard. Break time? Kind of? We talk a bit but I’m not done. I’m giving him a few minutes to collect himself before I pounce. I lube up my hands again and keep touching him. Get hard you sonofabitch! Bam, it’s ready.

I was on top for a bit and loved every inch of him, because he wasn’t punching my cervix I could actually enjoy it fully. He got behind me for a good minute and I enjoyed watching him in the mirror. He insists on me being on my back again because his penis wasn’t fully cooperating with the mission plan. Once he’s holding my legs up and banging me, he’s solid as a rock and I am taking it like a champ. He puts my legs together, crossing my ankles, then puts them up on his shoulder- folding me in half like a lawn chair, he pounds into me. We are covered in sweat. My room is approximately 9 billion degrees, roughly, and we are going for a fucking medal right now. He has been telling me throughout this romp that my pussy feels amazing. I am becoming more comfortable with the word pussy. I still hate it, but I am getting desensitized to the word during sex. Outside of sex, not a fan unless you’re using it to describe a spineless person. He cums again, we hold our embrace for a few extra moments while we catch our breath and feel each other’s chest pounding.

This is where our earlier chemistry was really most appreciated. We hung out naked just talking- and he said something I’m going to remember forever: “I feel like the best revenge you can have, is knowing that any man who uses you just for a blow job is missing out on some bomb-ass pussy. His loss.” Swoon. I want to see him again, he wants to see me again. We talk about some kinky things I’m into that he’s down with, and I’m even more excited for our next slam session. My neighbors are gonna hate me if it’s the last thing I do on this Earth. Earlier in the story I mentioned I was super stoked for this trophy lay and I didn’t mention why- it’s because I get to use it as a jab at my Halfrican friend who’s so white he makes Bryant Gumbal look like Malcolm X. Yes, I know that’s a joke referencing Wayne Brady, but my buddy is even more whitewashed. Maybe it’s all the cocaine. Wait, that would work the other way wouldn’t it? So I messaged my buddy and told him I banged a real Black. He told me I did good. Tortuga texted me when he got home that night, and again today to ask how an appointment I had went. What a gentleman! My Mami Chula and I caught up with drinks and dinner tonight, and she said Haitian men are real smooth with the treating their ladies. Count me the fuck in. We already had the talk about not wanting anything serious, let’s keep pretending I’m a lady!

If you'd like to read more of my stories I keep them cataloged on my blog, Allthedicks.WordPress.com and I'm a very busy woman! ;) this story has hyperlinks there.