The next day, I couldn’t shake the high from yesterday’s indulgence—the way my body had surrendered so completely, the earthy release that had left me quivering in that hidden park nook. My porcelain skin still tingled with the memory, my brunette curls tousled from a restless night of dreams laced with filth and desire. I returned to the same spot, drawn like a moth to flame, wearing a skimpy red crop top that clung to my breasts, the fabric thin enough to show the outline of my hardened nipples, paired with a short denim skirt that barely covered my ass. No panties this time—just the rough denim brushing against my bare pussy, already damp with anticipation, and flip-flops that slapped softly against the path.

     The urge was building again, a heavy fullness in my bowels from another deliberate feast: greasy burgers, beans, and chocolate that promised a massive, messy load. I squatted behind those same oaks, hiking up my skirt, feeling the warm sun on my exposed cheeks. But as I prepared to let go, I heard footsteps—crisp, deliberate. I looked up, heart pounding, and there he was: a tall Black stranger, his skin like polished ebony, muscles rippling under a tight tank top, his eyes widening in surprise before darkening with intrigue. He was gorgeous, commanding, and when my gaze dropped, I saw the bulge in his jeans—massive, straining.

     I didn’t run. Instead, a wicked smile curved my lips. “Like what you see?” I purred, standing to face him, my skirt still hitched up. He smirked, stepping closer, his voice deep and rumbling. “Depends on what you’re offering.” Emboldened, I reached for his zipper, my fingers trembling with excitement as I freed him. Oh, god—it was more than I’d imagined: over twelve inches of thick, veiny, uncircumcised black cock, the foreskin sliding back to reveal a glistening plum-sized head, veins pulsing like rivers under the dark skin. It throbbed in my hand, hot and heavy, the musky scent of his arousal hitting me like a drug.

     “I want you to fuck me,” I whispered, turning and bending over, presenting my ass to him. “Deep in my hole, hard, while I… while I shit.” His breath hitched, but he didn’t hesitate—spitting on his palm, he slicked that monster shaft and pressed the tip against my tight ring. The pressure was immediate, exquisite agony blooming into pleasure as he pushed in, inch by veiny inch, stretching me beyond belief. My sphincter burned, yielding to his girth, the veins dragging along my inner walls like textured ridges designed for torment. I gasped, my porcelain fingers digging into the tree bark, as he buried himself deeper, his balls slapping against my dripping pussy.

     The fullness was overwhelming—his cock filling my ass so completely that it amplified the pressure in my gut. “Now,” I begged, “fuck me vigorously.” He growled, gripping my hips with strong hands, and thrust hard, pulling out almost to the tip before slamming back in, the motion forcing my bowels to churn. Each deep plunge sent shockwaves through me, his thickness rubbing my sensitive nerves, making my clit throb untouched. The sensations layered: the hot, velvety slide of his uncircumcised skin retracting and gliding inside me, the veins pulsing against my stretched walls, and then—the release. As he pounded relentlessly, my body gave way, a thick log beginning to crown around his invading shaft.

     It was pure ecstasy—the shit pushing out copiously, warm and soft, squelching around his cock as he fucked through it, the mess coating his length and dripping down my thighs. I felt every detail: the sticky heat of my waste molding to his veins, lubricating him further, the earthy, pungent smell filling the air, mingling with the sweat and sex. My senses overloaded—the slap of his hips against my ass cheeks, the wet, filthy sounds of him churning my shit into a slurry inside me, the burn of my hole gaping wider with each thrust. I moaned loudly, my brunette hair whipping as I rocked back, the denim skirt bunched at my waist, my crop top riding up to expose my bouncing breasts. Waves of pleasure built, my pussy clenching emptily, juices trickling down my legs as he drilled deeper, his tip hitting spots that made stars explode behind my eyes.

     He came with a roar, flooding my ass with hot spurts, the semen mixing with my mess, making everything slicker, hotter. As he pulled out slowly, I felt the void—my hole wrecked, pulsing, shit and cum oozing out in a graphic cascade, splattering the grass. Panting, I turned, dropping to my knees, my eyes locked on his cock: smeared with my brown filth, veiny and glistening, the foreskin half-pulled back over the cum-streaked head. “Let me clean you,” I said, voice husky with need. I took him into my mouth, the taste exploding on my tongue—bitter, earthy, mixed with the salty tang of his seed. I sucked greedily, my lips stretching around his thickness, tongue swirling over every vein, lapping up the chunks and smears of my own shit. The texture was divine: soft and gritty, coating my throat as I deep-throated him, gagging slightly but relishing the filth, the degradation that made my core ache with fresh arousal. I swallowed it all, cleaning him spotless, my porcelain cheeks flushed, senses drowning in the obscene intimacy.

     Still on my knees, I looked up at him, his cock softening but still impressive. “Now… would you like to defecate in my mouth?” I asked, my voice trembling with excitement. He hesitated only a moment, then nodded, a dark grin spreading. He turned, squatting slightly as I positioned myself beneath him, mouth open wide like a supplicant. The first push came—a warm, firm log descending straight into my waiting maw. The sensation was intoxicating: the heat against my tongue, the musky, acrid flavor bursting as I bit down, chewing the soft mass, feeling its texture break apart—fibrous and dense, filling my cheeks. He grunted, releasing more, copious and unrelenting, the shit piling into my mouth, overflowing onto my chin, the smell enveloping me like a cloud.

     I savored every bite, the earthy bitterness coating my palate, the warmth sliding down my throat as I swallowed greedily, my hands on his thighs for balance. Bits clung to my teeth, the sensory overload pushing me over the edge—my fingers found my clit, rubbing furiously as I ate, the degradation fueling a shattering orgasm. When he finished, I licked my lips, cleaning the remnants, my body humming with satisfaction. He zipped up, vanishing into the trees, leaving me there—skirt askew, mouth tainted, alive in my secret depravity.