It became clear from the black girl's more and more frantic movements that her air had run out. So he would pull further back out after two more fuck strokes, well, maybe three. Oh, it felt so good. Just a fourth. And a fifth stroke.

Anita clasped her small hands onto the sides of the man's jeans. Feebly yanking and pulling on them. He held her face against him. Grinding her beautiful cheekbones into his brillo like pubic hair. Pressing his full balls against her chin.

Then he released her. With a few gasps she regained herself. Her giant chest riding over her expanding lungs with each breath. "Damn negro! You wanna kill me?" He shrugged and sat down, then patted his lap.