The Sexcapade of Natasha-15
- Post By Emdee David 2:18pm on Sunday 12th August 2018
How can a man have a sexy, busty, yellow, romantic, classy and sex-hungry babe like me locked up in an Air-Conditioned hotel, and yet complains he is tired after just two rounds? That’s waist pain,
THE SEXCAPADE OF NATASHA (15)
By Emdee David
Natasha stares at herself in the mirror in the hotel room, observing her smooth, light skin. Through the mirror, she observes the Lebanese trying hard to get his manhood standing. She turns to him and smiles. He smiles back, a forced smile though.
“I told you there was no traffic,” the man says with deep Lebanese accent. She laughs at his misunderstanding of what she meant. “Can we continue some other time, please?”
“No, you owe me a round more. You boasted you would go three…”
“But I’m tired, and it’s not coming up again.” The man says, still rubbing his dick with the palm of his hands.
“What a man’s hand can do, a woman’s hand can do better.”
“Relax, Razah. Anxiety kills the fun.” She says as she moves away from the mirror towards him. She bends, supporting herself with her hand on the frame of the bed. She sets her nipples to touch his long nose, and she begins to smile.
“You are an angel, I swear,” He says, amidst a genuine smile.
“When you are too anxious to perform, you perform less. Relax,” she adds, rubbing his villous chest, her nipples still on his nose. Then he smiles again and shifts his nose so his mouth could touch her nipples. She suddenly pulls away, walks towards the refrigerator.
“I think it’s coming up,” Razah says excitedly.
He raised his uncircumcised manhood up for her to see, but as she looks, it falls back.
“Oh no!” he sighs. And she hisses. From the fridge she brings out a bottle of Ghana made Alomo Bitter, pours some in two glasses and hands him one.
“Ice cream…” She frowns. “…better drink, and let your boy get a standing ovation.”
The Lebanese smiles to her, then sips the drink. His face turns to a frown.
“It’s bitter,” He complains.
“Better,” Natasha says and sits beside him. “It’s good for waist pain.”
“Did I complain of waist pain?”
“How can a man have a sexy, busty, yellow, romantic, classy and sex-hungry babe like me locked up in an Air-Conditioned hotel, and yet complains he is tired after just two rounds? That’s waist pain, Razah. Drink and be strong. Then ravish me, I’m all for you. Ravage me, for I am insatiable, not even with two dicks penetrating me at the same time.”
Razah gulps the rest of the Alomo Bitters and sighs. “You need help.”
“You need herbs,” she says and pours him some more. He gulps at once and then smiles as he lays his head on the pillow.
With the chilled bottom of the glass, Natasha begins to rub the tip of his cock and it tilts up.
“What’s that?” he asks without raising his head.
“Ice cream.” She giggles and climbs the bed to join him. Soon, her tongue was on his scrotum. After a few minutes, he screams and jumps up. His dizzy eyes glare at the sexy naked woman in front of him.
“You are…so…hot,” he says, sweating.
“And I am ready to burn you…” she licks below his abdomen and traces it with her tongue up to his chest.
“Kiss me, please.” He says, his voice shaky. She licks his nipples and then his neck, her hands playing with his testicles; his mourning gets accelerated.
“Kiss me…” he demands hysterically, his mouth anticipating.
“Next time, don’t eat garlic before coming to meet me.”
“Ohhh, common, stop it.”
She suddenly stops everything she is doing.
“What?!” his body is ready and anxious.
“You said, stop!”
“No, I mean the garlic complaint…I…”
“I…hate the smell…”
“It’s better than the smell and taste of this….” He points to the empty glass of Alomo Bitters.
She touches his erect manhood and smiles. “Garlic did not raise this, remember?”
“You talk too much, get to work,” he shouts a little louder than necessary.
She slaps him, playfully but painful. He frowns and is about to say something. She pushes him hard back to the bed and rushes him with a kiss while she rubs the cheek she’d just slapped.
Then she stretches his hands upward, kisses him passionately, ignoring the smell of the garlic. With the effect of the drink and the intoxicating lovemaking by Natasha, Razah begins to scream and moan in sexual pleasure. She winds her waist while he is inside her, doing all the movement until the Lebanese suddenly raises his trunk and grabs her exhilaratingly.
He climaxes and starts to cry like a baby. She holds him like one, tight and comforts him with her hands and two breasts. She is covered in both her sweat and his, in spite of the chilling Air Conditioner in the room. She lays him on the bed and still covers him with her hands.
“Do I still need help?” she asks but there is no response. Razah is weak and exhausted.
“You did enjoy this last bout, didn’t you?” she asks again, but there is no response. She holds him tighter, this time, trying to satisfying her desire to be truly loved. But her deep feelings are still more of emptiness, void. She thinks of her mum, a day she caught her uncle making love to her after her father had died. She feels the tears, her cry, and the sweat from her struggles from a man too strong for her. She could not hold the tears, they run down her cheeks. She holds Razah, emotionally tight as if that would bring her the needed comfort. She even expects him to say a word, any word.
“I really need help, don’t you think so?” she says in tears. Then she finally hears from Razah, and then she prepares to smile. But it isn’t a word, it is a snore. Razah is far asleep.
She pushes him away, and collapses on the bed, at the bottom part, crying.. “Oh, Jesus, help me.”
-----------------TO BE CONT'D------------
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Emdee David – is the President of Africa Entertainment Network, a Writer, Producer and Director of Radio, TV and Digital media contents. He is the renowned author of SHADOWS OF THE SUN (Heinemann Publishers Plc). His other works include GUYS ARE US, BAD TRIP, The PACKAGE, and over sixty poems.
Written by Emdee David
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