The Way to a Woman's Heart

Many a clever woman has smirked to herself, and winked at others as they've chattered in the kitchen. Oh, you know the way to a man's heart. Make him a meal that satisfies his hunger, which makes him stuff out his belly, and you've tamed the beast. However, that theory was only half true; it was more of a system that worked on the normal guy. A typical, idiotic behemoth who could never get his mind out of the gutter because in order to get his head out of his pants would mean he'd have to know more than nothing about anything else. So if a woman wished to bag a fool, food was a good choice; but what of the more accomplished gentleman; how could you get a real man? If he is a renaissance man, than you cannot. Ladies, if your talents lie only in idle chit-chat and cooking do not attempt to catch a tiger, for you yourself will make for his supper. What a man of this nature desires is to claim a woman entirely; mind, body, and soul, and to make them his simpering toy. Loyal, obedient, and easily disposed of. The way to a woman's heart, is through uncontrolled pleasure, that even the body of Adonis cannot grant. It takes a knowing mind to make a woman quake. Let us not argue this point, but let me show you through example. Assume all points are equal; simply place yourself into this young ladies' place, and see if you can resist.1

Her name is Chelsea; she is just past 19, with a basically racist attraction to white men only. Of a shorter stature, soft, chocolatey skin due to being overweight, flawed as her curves are not stunning, but she would make all but the pickiest guy groan. No stranger to a man, yet she has denied any to sleep with her, instead preferring to take them into the velvety grasp of her lips to serve him for her own orgasmic reward. She is of this society's strange concept that oral sex doesn't count, so might as well fill up on it until you find the right guy who will get all of what you have to offer. Chelsea had everything figured out; suck the white boys for now, find a real man, get married, and rock his world with her skills and surprising virginity. Such a naive teenager. 2

As he first drew eyes on her, he could tell she was one of those perfect candidates for his depravity to mold into his little pet. He carefully stalked her down the sidewalk, keeping his gait matching in perfectly with hers so that he wouldn't fall too far back to follow or be too close to scare off. Eyes treated themselves to the churning cheeks of an overfed rear as he delectably pondered all that he could do to it, feeding the dark recesses of his mind as he bided his time. Her hands carried a light assortment of new clothes stuffed into bags; taking a little exercise to walk them home so she would stay somewhat healthy. Controlled desire coursing through his veins gives him the instinct that tells him; pounce, it’s now or she’s getting away. If she got to the doorstep it would be creepy, but catching her just a block away seemed like a friendly, flirtatious come on and if played right he could ride that first buzz of attraction to a quick ride in the sack. 3

Uses the length of his legs to catch her and rematch her steps, now strolling beside her as if they were old time friends. "I couldn't help but notice, that you were carrying a decent haul there. Need some help?" Gentlemanly first, freak later; she knew the game, but as she looked he was a cute white boy, and pretty tall and wide as well, just the kind of body form she liked to work with. "Is that ALL you noticed from back there.. alright then, I'll let you walk me home.." already acting up her suggestive flirtations to string him along. But instead of reaching for her bags, his hand just reaches out and grabs firmly onto the backside of her body. Digs his fingers in without hesitation, stuffing hand into pocket like crass boyfriend who liked teasing his girlfriend. 4

Chelsea couldn't screech; she wanted this white boy in her front door, and to do so would alert everyone and cause a scene. "Uhh.. what do you think you're doing.." though normally this would seem casual, her audible first noise wasn't a relaxed question, but a repressed moan at his touch. She often didn't let guys even touch her while she impaled her own throat for them, but she couldn't make him stop kneading her ass when she hadn't even gotten to explaining how she played; stopping him would make it seem like she didn’t want him, but letting him continue.. ugh, it was making her wet. "Helping you carry this heavy load.. looks good and heavy.. when we get to your place, I'll get behind you and hold it up with my hips.. and give it a massage.." digging predatorial fangs into chocolate ears after purring his answer into them. 5

This wasn't good; Chelsea always was the one making the first move, making the rules, setting the boundaries. If the guy played for too much he was out on his ass, or he caved to get some easy head which was better than nothing on a late evening with little prospects. Plus, as any real white guy would admit, a sweet chocolate face with pouty pink lips made them melt and she knew her skills would make them all go crazy. Yet already she had lost control; she couldn't deny him, she needed to feel his manhood pumping strongly against her tongue, so even though that probably meant she would lose it all she had to get him in. There was just something about him she needed like she hadn't from the other guys. Maybe it was that he actually showed some confidence and spine behind his come-ons, instead of the others who crumbled like twigs just at her giving them a not-so-welcoming gaze of adoration. 6

“..o-ookay..” is all she can mumble as she tries her best to make her ass turn in a direction that doesn’t push right into his grip, to maybe calm herself down before he dipped his length inside the wrong hole, the one she couldn’t take back. With each step though, her right cheek flexes and pushes up into his circling hand; it’s not fair, he is timing each grab so it gets a handful of soft flesh each time, and squeezes so as it slips away his warmth courses through and leaves a strong tingle; even as she tries to sneak away from his hand, her ass is all too happy to re-meet the strength found that clutches at her with appreciated want and need. And the black cherry nestled between her thighs is already preparing to meet his white boy meat; it’s basically crying with joy that this bitch has finally gotten a man she’d bend over for. Although Chelsea had been content to take loads into her stomach only, her cunt had been revolting and going on strike for just one thick load. Seems maybe her body was being extra sensitive to his touch just so it could get what it needed after so many years of using toys to stimulate her honeymoon; plastic wasn’t enough anymore, not after going to the point of sucking away at the real deal, just a few feet and seconds away from a pussy full of cum.7

He smirks to himself; she had already agreed to more than he could have guessed. Hers were not the answers of an experienced woman, but that of a timid mouse and easy prey was always the most delicate of flesh. Hand treats her rump like a piece of Putty; acting as if he was already her Master and was literally shaping her the way he wanted, though he actually found her current shape alluring enough. It was probably more the scent and pheromone he was feeding off of from her though; the lust only a restrained virgin could give off, who ached for their first breeding, and his own dark pleasures yearned for the clumsy movements her first time would give him as though the moves were rough, they were passionate. Almost guides her back to her place as his hand finally ceases it’s work; there’s no need for more coaxing or shaping, she was already his. Just goes along for the ride beside her now, to wait for the arrival. Looks to her with a smile, telling her with his eyes; get us there soon, I’m ready to keep up my end of the deal.8

She grimaces slightly as his eyes invade her personal space by gazing deeply into hers; he was too passionate a man, too intense. She sighs, as she walks without even thinking. They are at her doorstep, without her even having to look to guide them there. Chelsea shudders slightly while she places a bag down and fishes for her keys; she’d normally make a guy give a good jerk by bending over into them, just barely barely touching them while she toyed with the lock, but she didn’t dare tempt him. She feared he might almost take her right on her stoop for all to see her guilty desire for him, and the worst part is she knew she would scream, but would be begging for it, not crying for him to stop. Her heart pounds into her swaying chest, as she brings her bags in; tossing them quickly to the floor and locking the door behind her. Chelsea wanted this all to end soon, she wanted to cum quick so she might get over this pathetic wanting; she hated being under this stranger’s control. 9

He watches her toss her stuff to the side like discarded trash and smirks; “In a hurry for my promise, hmm? Guess it must be a heavy burden.. keeping yourself for your husband I mean..” She jerks back, and scowls at him with hatred; she’s panicking, afraid, and hating him all at the same time: how did he know, how could he read her like such an open book, and how dare he push for this if he knew she wanted to save it? Who did he think he was, going to steal her virginity for himself when she wanted to offer it as a precious gift to her man. With fury she charges at him blindly, and he just wraps his arms about her, hands both gluing onto the back of her ass as he leans into the door and catches all of her weight in his strong form. Her chest was pushed into his, crushing over his warmth with her soft pillows of untouched breasts as he pulls up on her ass and swallows up her body with his. All the momentum she had mustered in a rage had been absorbed into his body, and he was now using it to engulf her with his towering form; to wrap around her like a snake and gobble her up. 10

Despite being stopped she’s still moving, but that flame of hate has burned out to smoky passion instead, hot and balmy; legs wrapped tight around his ass, as hips buck up and dry hump over his groin, back arched so much and legs pulling her body up and down so high both the crease of her ass and the mound of her cunt is sliding over his hardened tent in his pants. Chelsea groans as both needy holes are teasingly ground down but not stuffed by his length, throwing her arms about his neck and diving her face into his. She purses experienced lips together and throws them open just as it meets his face to suck on his, tongue driving out to engulf his; it wasn’t a throbbing cock, but her mouth needed the strong taste of a man upon it. Her cock sucking addiction had made her crave that scent and feeling in her mouth when she got horny, but this new level of lust couldn’t be satiated through that alone. She shook as she continued to rock over his body, pulling off his lips with a loud gasp; “..I need it.. God, I need it.. please, daddy, fuck me.. fuck your little girl..” resorting to her usual dirty pet names that she always dreamed of screaming to her lover. Chelsea hated herself so much for this, but there was no turning back; she looked at him and waited, as he slowly and torturously slid her down off his body and turned her around so her fat ass was curved up for him. “Daddy.. please.. don’t be gentle.. rape me.. if I can’t be made love to my first time.. fulfill my other dream.. make it rape.. stab my nigger cherry with your white cock…” her pleadings unbeknownst to her not making this easier on her; once she got his cock in her in that dirty way she always pounded herself with in her head to, she wouldn’t be over with it and move on, but his loyal slave from then on. Getting that fetish fulfilled would only make her serve him for the rest of her life, and he had known that nearly all along since he had first spotted that fat ass on the sidewalk.11

So, my curious watchers, how did you respond? I know it was clumsy at times, and that it ends without explicit description of the best part, but that is exactly my point. If a way to a woman’s heart is not through these means, then why are you so eagerly sitting on the edge of your seat begging me for more and angrily cursing at me under your breath for working you up so much and not finishing? The only way for you to prove me wrong is to not have been affected by my clumsy writings. If you can’t tell, take a quick peek; I won’t tell anyone your secret. It’s just between you and me, Chelsea.