Syphrice Don Vladimir’s Chronicals pt. 1

Her dad was even prouder than when she won her college pageant. Sally was happy to have him still in her life; especially since her mother pasted away. And with this new model contact, she was going to buy a reliable truck for hard working father. For her 24th summer birthday present, she wanted to go to New York: where a lot of her college friends moved. Her father mentioned some cousins, from her mother’s side, near the city. She was definitely looking forward to meeting them. It won’t be too long before she would get the chance to finally meet me.


083008-10:15am – The aroma of the boiled shrimp reminded me of a time when I would go out to the Pathmark supermarket which was at least a mile away, at any hour of the night, just to satisfy Sal’s desire for shrimp. I would bring it home, strip my 6′-201 lb self down topless-oiled well-framed chest, shoulders & arms and noticeably defined abs, down to my shredded jeans top button open-hanging off of my bubble butt and walked around bare foot, prepared and cooked the shrimp immediately. Burned my forearm bad with the boiling hot water, kept cooking. And prepare it on a tray, in a decorative style, with a dipping cup of warm buttermilk. And when I’d watch her take her first bite with her pleasurable smile and satisfied eyes. She quickly glanced at the large swelling-red scar on my arm. I would either hum or sing some R&B and found pleasure in doing so. The nicely trimmed thin mustache smirk on my face told her all she needed to know as to why I did it. So, I quietly left her to her favorite show, “Top Model”; and favorite treat.
I went in the living room, entangled the soft, warm fur of the throw rug in between my just pedicured bare toes; as I felt the inviting heat from the crackling logs in the fireplace. I grabbed my spanish guitar aside the large, cream colored leather sofa. I started strumming the intro “I’m So Sick” by Neyo. I closed my eyes and hummed the lyrical melodies, as I was really getting into the rhythm.
I felt a presence near me. Figuring it was her, I change it to her favorite spanish song. She didn’t know what it meant or what the lyrics was saying, but all she knew is the melody penetrated her body, sent soothing shock waves of subtle pleasure down the sides of her neck, and pulsating jolts of ecstasy down to her already moist pussy. As I squinted my eyebrows together, I concentrated on the notes, stroking the strings sensually, perpetuatingly making luv to the spanish guitar.