black panther / white panther

The issue of who picks up who is always an interesting one, especially if you don't wonder about it until the next day.
She was dancing at a concert with a long skirt and a tiny top, her stomach moved with the rhythm, and she knew she was being watched. Oh, so many men watched her, and so few dared to go near.
He did go near, the sexy Argentinean with the pose and the big back, he came, he saw, he panted, he conquered.
He took her to the meet & greet after the music, trying to show off, she knew that although he depicted such confidence, he wasn't very sure what he would do with her.
They went to his hotel.
Lovely.
The best lovers are those that are here only for a little while, those that will leave and leave no regrets. Those that live in an hotel room where you can read their personality by what they have there and how it is arranged, but you can't get to intimate because there is a limit of how much you can learn from someone from what they take along when they travel.
He wanted her to dance some more, she was amazed, she had thought she didn't dance so well, but oh, the belly dance.
He kissed her. She didn't understand why someone would rather lick most of your face than kiss you on the lips, but she laughed.
He undressed her, kissed her, caressed her.
His body was delicious, he did boxing as a hobby, he was soft and hard in all the right places.
He wanted to be inside of her, but she played around, licking, panting, while he growled like a panther, and she laughed.
Finally they fucked.
And fucked.
and fucked.
He didn't want her to come, little did he know.
They came. She smiled. He growled and then sang a song in Spanish, something about an angel, she wasn't sure if that was really happening or if it was the post-orgasmic illusion.
They slept a little bit, and then she was at it again. He was bigger than her, much stronger, and yet, he had lost complete power. She made him hard, kissed him, licked him, put the condom on, and mounted him. And mounted him, and mounted him.
He didn't want her to come, and she laughed and told him to be still.
She mounted him and came, and came, and came once more.
He tried to stir, to move, to lick. She told him to be still, and came, and came, and came.
After eternities and orgasms filled oceans, thet stopped.
He asked her if she knew that she wasn't normal, that she came so much, so beautifully, so deliciously. "I am going to recommend you", he said, she laughed, for what?
He growled again and asked her about herself. She said just enough and not too much.
He insisted on asking her about her pleasure capabilities, was it real, since when was she able to do that, to enjoy so much, to come as much as she did. She laughed and growled a bit, imitating him, and said that one needs to enjoy oneself in order to enjoy others, and caressed his beautiful back.
Once more they were at it, he was on top of her, trying to regain control of the situation, to have the power position... he failed miserably. And it was lovely.
She came, and came and came.
He didn't want to come so quickly, so she kept giving him subjects to think about: politics, soccer, Ronaldinho.
Oh my, he was so hot, so turned on that even Ronaldinho seemed sexy to him.
She allowed him to come.
They exploded, and once more, with his husky voice, he began to sing a song.
Who sings a song when they come, and the same exact one?
Ah, lovely men do strange things.
She told him she was leaving, and did. With a great big smile and fully satisfied.
At three thirty in the morning, in a cab, post-fucking, its the only time when she misses smoking, but she smiles.