The Egyptian Fantasy

As I walk home in urgent arousal the familiar phrase of "cock hungry" plays in my thoughts. I scan the real and imagined partners of my past for fantasy fodder and lock on my Egyptian neighbor downstairs. His advances have been obvious in the past and I like the way his voice sounds when I imagine him fucking me like the American slut that I am. As soon as I return home I grab my smallest vibrator. Its hooked end and fast pulse setting will provide my cunt the stimulation desired while I furiously jangle the hard button of my clit.

I rush to my bathroom, the only room in my tiny studio with a door to keep my attention starved cats out. I climb into my bathtub wearing a tee-shirt and clutching my Sliquid. I return to my fantasy building:

I walk downstairs wearing a tight, short, black dress and my girly pink bra. I knock on his door and ask to come in when he answers. He looks baffled by this intrusion. Once his door is closed he looks me up and down without hiding his desire.

He asks the perfect question, "What do you want?"
I reply, my voice a deep path and say, "I want you. I want you to sit down."
He sits and I toss two condoms on the couch next to him. I answer further,
"I want to kiss you and I want your dick."

This man from a wildly different culture does not overreact, his time in America has molded him, though forward women are hard for him to accept at first. He thinks for a moment before responding that he would like to see my breasts.

I stare into his dark eyes as my desire pushes further into the forbidden with thoughts of him forcing himself on me, thoughts of being used for his satisfaction, but not my own.

I step closer to where he sits and turn my back to him, "Unzip my dress, just to my waist, please." He makes a noise in his throat and does as I request. I remove and fold the front of my dress down. I turn to face him again and he clucks his tongue, registering my lacy bra with the small rose between the cups, then I remove it. He holds his hands out, I give it to him. He puts the bra in one hand and with the other reaches for me. I climb onto his lap, straddling him. My dress hikes up around my hips and I am not wearing panties. I can smell the humid landscape of my cunt.
He is slow to move, but kisses my neck, then chest. He inches his full lips south and takes my large, bumpy aereola into his mouth. Instantly I arch back and moan. I fucking love having my tits sucked.
His eyes peer up at me when I look back down to see his dark hands on my pale chest. His chocolate lips on my pale breasts. He stops to ask me to moan again. I think of all the times he's heard me above him, loudly enjoying my lovers past and answer, "It's likely." He seems satisfied and begins sucking my tits in earnest.

The first orgasm is building strength in my gripped leg muscles and pelvis. I breathe deeply to let it form. My head rushes and my clit begins to feel as though it is contracting, my puffy labia throbs, my hips thrust and I gasp as the waves of pleasure crash on my cunt, my belly, my lungs and chest. I rest for a minute and resume the fantasy in narrative free mental images.

Dark lips on pale pink hard nipples. Grinding hips leaving streaks of pussy juice on his jeans. Hard cock pushing up through the fabric. Wide brown eyes on the stains my gyrating leaves.

I grab the little vibrator and spit on it. I find the fast pulse setting and shove it into my hungry cunt to gear up for orgasm number two. My beating heart and swirling fingers leave no time for further fantasy. Deep breathing has no use here.

My hips raised, my head butted against the bathtub wall, my big leg muscles tensed: I come hard and go limp. I begin giggling and feel satisfied, aglow after my orgasms. I slowly get up and light headedly walk to the computer to share my indiscretions with strangers of the world wide web.