Love and a Gangsta. Erick S Gray
juices thinking of him.
I was trying to cool off in the shower, but it got no better. I was so fucking horny there was an ache in my body that refused to leave. It got intense because in less than twenty-four hours my baby will be loving every curve, shape and inch of me until my pussy put him to sleep.
Four years of waiting, and being faithful to my boo. I sighed ready to explode. This scene had repeated so many times, I lost count of how many times I masturbated alone in the dark with the toys I had purchased over the years. Visions of Omar grinding and gyrating between my legs kept rewinding in my mind. Many nights I had stayed up sleepless, thinking of Omar, a pillow between my thighs while fondling my tits.
There were many nights of long cold showers. Being horny and alone without my man around was a most unbearable situation. I’d pour my pain into songs and poems, many days and evenings. The words were so emotional, repeating them filled me with sadness and became unbearable.
I smiled removing the showerhead and putting one leg up on the porcelain tub. Then I positioned the spurting water next to my animated kitty-cat, setting the speed just right as the water rushed against my pulsating pussy. Moans escaped my lips and I moved my free hand in between my thighs, masturbating my clit. Moving my fingertips faster in a circular motion, I was losing control. The spurting water against my over-excited pussy lips did the trick.
“Ah, hmm… Hmm. Ooh yeah! Oh God, I missed you so much, dear Omar,” I cried, having an explosive orgasm.
Thoughts of my man making love to me were embedded in my mind. His dick prints were etched on my vagina walls and made me feel like he was inside. But tonight there’d be no further need for pretension. My man finally will be home after four long years of keeping his pussy pure and tight. I peed while my lips purred.
2
The biggest troublemaker you’ll ever face.
Watches you from the mirror every morning…
Omar
Pussy was the only thing on my mind. True story. Four years of not getting any, and I was thirsty for my boo-boo. My sexual desires got even stronger within the week of my release. I thought about my girl everyday, all day. She was the first and last thing on my mind when I woke up and went to sleep at nights. She was the only reason why I survived in here for the last four years.
America came to see my like twice a month, and I loved her for that. The trip upstate was about seven hours to Franklin Correctional facility in Malone, New York. Sometimes she did the drive alone, or took the greyhound to come see me. America always came to see me looking her finest. I really hated to see her leave.
Her visiting me was a gift and a curse. Seeing my woman looking so fine and sexy was a true gift. I couldn’t do nothing but give her a hug, a kiss, and hold hands across the table. My dick was so hard, it felt like it wanted to escape from my pants and rip into her warm flesh. But there was no excessive display of affection during visits, my curse for being here.
Pictures of America, her songs, and letters plastered my cell wall. Guards and cellmates envied me because I got at least three letters every week. Sometimes a poem or a song came from America. Every night before lights out, I read the soothing words she had written, fantasizing about warm days and long nights with her.
I would stare at a picture of the two of us together taken at Coney Island in the spring of ‘98, against the background of a painting of Jay Z holding up cash. We were young and looked cozy like we had no care. I was hugged up on her and both our smiles were ear to ear. The picture cost me five bucks but being locked up, it proved to be worth even more. It was the best of the good times. I was eighteen back then.
I remembered her attitude being a little rude when we first met. I thought she was cute. She was wearing lose fitted gray sweats, white T’s and her feet looked small in a pair of white and blue Adidas. Her hair was in two long pigtails. The scent she had on made my heart do sprints. I saw her coming out of the store and couldn’t let her just walk by me and not attempt to kick it to a girl so beautiful. America was trying to be reluctant, trying to spit fire as if she wasn’t interested.
Up in my bunk, I continued peering at her photos. My abdominal muscle tightened as I reminisced over the first time we had sex. She was a virgin. I had been with lots of girls, but was intimate from the start. When it came to America, like she said, I made love to her. Before that I was just fucking girls.
America was different. My uncle, Ray gave me the keys to his basement apartment. Uncle Ray was a hustler like me and was always telling me how America was too fine a woman to ever let go.
“Boy, you treat her like the wonderful woman she is, and she’ll treat you like the king you are. Always respect each other.”
Uncle Ray was seventeen years my senior and he knew a lot about life. He was in and out of jail since I was in diapers. He had mad respect on the streets.
I brought America to my uncle’s crib on a Friday night. She was the most nervous fifteen-year old I’d ever seen. We had been together for six weeks, and this sexual yearning I had for her was suffocating me.
She was wearing a denim skirt and pink halter. Her hair was in two long pigtails. My uncle’s comfortable, one-bedroom bachelor’s pad, with big screen television, and a great stereo system, made a good impression. She became less tense once she realized we would be alone. Besides a leather couch, and his bedroom set, he had no furniture since he was hardly home.
Uncle Ray had a king size bed in the bedroom. A mirror and drawers stood above a burgundy area rug with gold trim was spread out on the parquet floor. My uncle wasn’t much of a decorator, but his place was nice enough to make America fill comfortable in.
I led America to the bedroom. She quietly followed. Then she touched me, stared at me with her soft brown eyes and smiled. She knew what time it was. I had made it all clear. I never wanted to mislead her in anything.
“Are you nervous?”
“A little,” she giggled.
Her soft touch had me hard. I caressed her gently when we were near the bed. She felt relaxed in my arms. But I wanted to make sure she was ready for what was about to happen.
“Are you sure you’re ready, America?”
Her eyes took on an aura of innocence, telling me that I’d have to lead and she’d follow me into our first sexual episode. I wouldn’t have it any other way. It was a honor to be her first, but what I hoped for was to be her last. She smiled faintly and nodded.
America sat next to me on the bed. I moved slowly, but lust wanted me to tear off her clothes, skip foreplay and fuck the shit out of her. Slow down my beating heart, she was different and I had to take my time.
I moved my hand up and down her smooth open thigh. My dick pulsated in my pants. I pressed my lips against hers and kissed her good. Our tongues tangled, wrestling as our breathing became one. I moved my hand further up her skirt until I felt the wetness of her panties. She flinched but didn’t pull away.
She stared at me for a moment. I was wondering what was on her mind. She remained silent and I prayed that she wanted to continue. My dick was harder than the man of steel and if I couldn’t get pussy, then I’d be in for a very bad night. Fortunately, she wanted to continue. America positioned herself on her back and braved a smile.
“I want you to be my first, Omar. I love you and I trust you,” she softly whispered.
I pulled up her skirt, and removed her panties unhurriedly. She reclined with her head amongst the plush pillows on the bed. Her breath became louder her round breast smiled at me while her curly pussy hairs, barely covered moistened lips. They seemed clamped together tightly like a bank vault after closing. I definitely knew she was pure now.
I moved my lips closer to her honey brown skin, kissing her gently starting with her belly button. She moaned a little. My hands slid up her chest, she cupped her hands over mine, and pressed