I sat across from you on our bed, the lights low, my robe slipping open just enough to show the curve of my breasts. My heart pounded as I started talking, the words tumbling out raw and honest because you asked for every filthy detail of what happened before I met you.
It was years ago, right after college.
I was twenty-two, working at that downtown bar, and Marcus walked in one night like he owned the place. Tall, dark skin gleaming under the lights, shoulders broad under a tight black shirt. He bought me a drink after my shift and we ended up at his apartment, the kind with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
I remember how he kissed me first, slow and deep, his tongue claiming mine while his hands slid under my skirt and found I wasn't wearing panties. "You came prepared," he growled against my mouth. I moaned when his thick fingers pushed inside me, two at once, stretching me open right there against the door. He fingered me until my legs shook, juices dripping down my thighs, then spun me around and bent me over the arm of his couch.
His cock was massive. I felt the heavy heat of it slapping against my ass before he lined up and drove in deep in one thrust. I cried out, the burn mixing with pleasure as he filled me completely. Marcus didn't hold back. He fucked me hard, hips slamming forward, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. Every stroke hit that spot inside me that made my vision blur. I came twice before he pulled out, flipped me onto my back, and pushed my knees to my chest.
"Look at this pretty white pussy taking my black cock," he said, voice low and rough. He sank back in, slower this time, making me feel every inch. I watched it disappear into me, stretched wide around his thickness, my clit swollen and throbbing. He thumbed it while he thrust, and I came again, walls clenching around him so tight he groaned and flooded me deep.
That was only the first night. We kept meeting for weeks. One afternoon he brought a friend, Jamal. They took turns on me in Marcus's bed, one cock in my mouth while the other pounded my pussy. I remember the taste of my own arousal on them, the way they talked dirty about how wet and eager I was. Jamal came on my tits while Marcus finished inside me again. After they left I lay there sticky and satisfied, fingering their cum back into myself because I couldn't get enough.
Another time Marcus tied my wrists to his headboard and spent an hour teasing me. He licked my clit until I begged, then eased that thick head just inside and stopped, making me whimper and rock my hips for more. When he finally buried himself to the hilt I screamed his name. He fucked me through two orgasms, then pulled out and pressed the slick head against my ass. I was so relaxed and turned on I let him take that too, the slow burn turning into the most intense fullness I'd ever felt. He came with a roar, pumping my ass full while I shook beneath him.
I told you all of it, watching your face, seeing your cock harden against your pants. My own hand drifted between my legs as I spoke, circling my clit through the thin fabric of my panties. The memories made me ache. Marcus had been rough and commanding, everything I craved back then. He taught me how to take a cock deep in my throat, how to ride until my thighs burned, how to beg for cum in every hole.
When I finished the last story you pulled me onto your lap. Your hands were shaking as you pushed my robe off my shoulders. "Show me," you whispered. I sank down onto you, already soaked, and rode you slow while I kept whispering the dirtiest parts again. You came hard inside me, groaning my name, and I followed right after, clenching around you the way I once had around Marcus.
We lay tangled together afterward, your fingers tracing lazy circles on my hip. The past was out now, no secrets left between us, only heat and the promise of more nights where I could tell you everything all over again.
