#black feminity

The car jostles as he narrowly avoids a small pothole. 

“You just gon’ keep burning holes into the side’a my head or what?”

He hadn’t looked away from the road. You watch the corner of his lips twitch when he decides to press them into a thin line. The muscles in his jaw tense before ultimately relaxing.

He’s trying not to smile. You know it. That steel-cold stare of his isn’t enough to hide it. Terry can play a convincing stoic, but you know better.

And you hate it. You hate being the trembling mess, a dewy sheen over your beautiful face. But, it was the cross you had to bear—in exchange for him agreeing to pay for your nails.

Granted, you didn’t have to do this. Terry’s a gentleman, he likes making sure his woman is covered. And you love that about him.

But, his mischievous side seemed to have come out to play today, and you found yourself on the receiving end of it.

“You think this is funny?”

He blinks, still staring ahead. “Funny?” Finally, he breaks his gaze away to give a simple glance. Like the option of looking your way wasn’t even given a second thought. “Sumn supposed to be funny?”

An intake of air passes through you as you open your mouth to respond, yet you’re swiftly cut off by a sharp gasp of your own.

Mini quakes wrack throughout your being, stronger towards your core. A swooping feeling travels to your lower tummy. Weakly, your thighs squeeze together, shortly falling apart there after.

Your body’s been through this song and dance for too long—the last fifteen minutes to be exact. It’s wearing your patience and strength thin. 

Very thin.

A trickle of wetness slowly seeps into the seat of your panties, soaking them further. At this rate, you’re sure there’s a wet spot in your jeans. How does he expect you to leave the car like this?

Your pussy flutters around the foreign object buried within its slick walls. A violent shudder moves through you, uncontrolled.

“What’s the joke, baby?” He looks at you again. Those big, golden-brown eyes pierce you for a second longer than last time. “Hm? Tell me.”

Your lips quiver, a weakened whimper slipping past its cracks.

His voice lowers as he stares ahead at the road before you two, heavier than usual. “I wanna laugh.”

“A-auh … shit…”

Your voice is a tiny, broken mess. The muscles in your stomach contract as you lean forward, that vibrating toy putting pressure against your spot. Your mouth drops open, eyes threatening to close.

“T-Terry—“

“Hm?”

You don’t even see him do it, but you catch the subtle flex of his veiny forearm; Your eyes widen, the vibrations grow stronger, rougher.

“Stop, I—“ You try to remember how to swallow your spit. The hand you’ve got wrapped around the seat’s armrest tightens enough to make your knuckles pale. “I-I can’t—“

“Can’t what?”

You’re panting, chest rising and falling quickly. Heat is spreading throughout your body, you feel like you’re going to lose your mind if you don’t shed at least one layer of clothing.

Your pelvic floor is clenched tight, your body trying to prevent a serious flood coming its way.

“I’m gonna—fuuuck!” Your eyes roll back as the muscles of your core weaken for a full second, the threat of your orgasm growing more and more serious. “M’gonna … cum.”

You barely hear the scoff. It feels like the longest second of your life. You feel like you’re a balloon, ready to pop, but the gas tank is shut off right before you do; The vibration comes to a halt.

Echoes of it still travel throughout your body, as your pussy clenches down repeatedly on the toy—a nicely sized bullet vibe.

Your body wavers as you slowly look his way. There’s a worn look on your face. 

It’s hilarious, to him at least.

You can tell by the one-sided smirk he confidently sports. You feel small under his stare, subjected to his whims; Here you are, doubled over in your seat, trembling, while he’s sat back, relaxed. The car is driving as smoothly as ever.

“Did you?”

Meekly, you shake your head. All of your fire has been snuffed out by two little clicks to a remote control.