Dick N DA Hood

A black man named Ty & and a black woman name Shanté are in a heated argument. The are throwing things, shouting, and cussing. Shanté says, "Fuck you and yo mama, nigga!" She throws a lamp, but Ty dodges it. "Bitch! The fuck is wrong with you!", he shouts. She runs at him throwing punches. He grabs both and spins her around. He has her arms tied up, with her back against him. She screams and tries to break free, but her ass keeps bouncing on his dick. He gets hard and she notices. "You ain't a real man! What you gonna do?", she barks. He takes his thick BBC out and shoved in her.

In the dimly lit living room, glass shattered across the floor. Ty and Shanté were at it again, their voices echoing off the walls, each word a sharp stab. "Fuck you and your mama, nigga!" Shanté screamed, her face contorted with rage. She hurled a lamp at Ty, who dodged it easily, his eyes narrowing. "Bitch, what the fuck is wrong with you?" he roared back, his chest heaving. She charged at him, fists flying, her nails bared like weapons. Ty grabbed her wrists mid-air, spinning her around effortlessly. He pinned her arms behind her back, her body flush against his. Shanté screamed, bucking and thrashing, trying to break free. But each desperate struggle only pressed her ass harder against his growing erection. She felt it, hot and thick, pressing into the small of her back. "You ain't a real man!" she barked, trying to taunt him. "What you gonna do, huh?" Ty's breath hitched, his grip tightening. He shoved her forward, bending her over the couch. His hands roughly hiked up her skirt, exposing her thick thighs and the lacy thong straining against her round cheeks. "You want to know what I'm gonna do?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. He yanked down her thong, the sound of the fabric tearing filling the room. Shanté sucked in a sharp breath, her body tensing. Ty didn't waste any time. He unzipped his pants, freeing his thick, black dick. He spat on his hand, coating his length before pressing the head against her slick entrance. "I'm gonna fuck you into submission, that's what."

Most explicit: She looks back and says "You ain't gonna do sh-". Before she could finish, he pushes her head down into the cushions and fucked her like a sex doll. "Fuck!", she moaned muffled screams. She put her hands back on his thighs to slow him down. "Fuck off me!", he said swatting her arms away. She braced her upper half on the couch. "Fuck, it's getting bigger!". He grabs her by her waist and forces her back as he thrusts in harder. The clap of her phat ass echoes. "Say somethin', now; huh?", he taunted as she slammed into him over and over.

Shanté's eyes flared with defiance, her mouth opening to spit out another retort. "You ain't gonna—" Ty didn't give her a chance to finish. His palm pressed firmly against the back of her head, pushing her face into the soft cushions of the couch. The muffled sound of her surprise turned into a guttural moan as he drove into her. Her body tensed, then relaxed, yielding to the relentless rhythm. "Fuck, you tight," he grunted, his hips moving like a piston. The couch creaked under the force of his thrusts, the sound mixing with the wet slap of their bodies colliding. Shanté's muffled screams vibrated against the couch, her fingers scrabbling for purchase. She reached back, her hands finding his thighs, trying to slow him down. "Fuck off me," she panted, her voice muffled but clear. Ty's hand shot out, swatting her arms away. "I said fuck off," he growled, his voice a low rumble. He grabbed her waist, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, pulling her back onto his cock with each thrust. The sound of their skin clapping echoed through the room, a primal symphony of dominance and submission. "Fuck, it's getting bigger," she gasped, her body arching as he hit a spot deep inside her. The pleasure was sudden and intense, her hips jerking back against him. "Say something, now; huh?" he taunted, his voice breathless. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, his breath hot on her ear. "Tell me how much you love this dick, Shanté. Tell me how much you need it." His hand snaked around, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. "You can't get enough, can you, you nasty bitch?" Her body bucked wildly, trying to meet his every thrust.

Most explicit: She lifted her head up and said "Damn that dick so good!". "Yes! Fuck!" He leans in, wraps his right arm around her neck, and chokes her carefully with his hand. He starts talking so dirty that Shanté can only cum multiple times in a row. She lets out a long scream! Ty pushes her face back in the pillows. He pushes her back down to see that perfect arch in her back. He digs both hands into her waist for grip and then fucks her until he cums. As he is cumming, he pulls out and grabs her by the head. He cums all over her face. She falls back, melting into the couch. He walks over and smears the cum around her face with his dick. He slaps her face with it one time and says, "Don't ever talk about my Mama, again." She looks around dazed like she's seeing stars. Shanté says, "My bad, nigga; shit!" And passes out on the couch.

Her eyes closed, her mouth open in a wide "O" as the words spilled out, raw and unfiltered. "Damn, that dick so good!" Ty's eyes flashed with dark pleasure. He leaned in, his right arm wrapping around her neck, his hand squeezing just enough to restrict her breath, to heighten her senses. His lips brushed against her ear, his voice a low, dirty growl. "You love this cock, don't you, Shanté? You love how it fills you up, stretches you wide. You love how it makes you scream, makes you cum." Her body bucked, her breath hitching as his words sent waves of pleasure crashing through her. Her hands gripped the couch, her knuckles white, her body arching to meet his thrusts. Each dirty word out of his mouth sent her spiraling higher, her body betraying her with wave after wave of orgasm. "Fuck, Ty, fuck!" she screamed, her voice hoarse, her body convulsing with pleasure. Her scream filled the room, a primal sound of raw, unfiltered ecstasy. Ty's grip on her waist tightened. He pushed her face back into the pillows, his hips pistoning faster, harder. He was a man possessed, his body and mind focused on one thing—fucking her into oblivion. The room filled with the sound of their bodies slapping together, the couch creaking under the force of his thrusts, and Shanté's muffled screams against the pillow. His breath hitched, his body tensing as he neared his climax. With a final, powerful thrust, he pulled out, his hand gripping her hair, pulling her head back. His cock pulsed, ropes of cum shooting out, coating her face, her lips, her eyes. She blinked, her vision hazy, her body melting into the couch.

Most explicit: He walks over and smears the cum around her face with his dick. He slaps her face with it one time and says, "Don't ever talk about my Mama, again." She looks around dazed like she's seeing stars. Shanté says, "My bad, nigga; shit!" And passes out on the couch.

Ty stood over her, his cock still hard, glistening with her juices. He leaned down, his hand wrapping around his shaft, using it to smear his cum across her face. He coated her cheeks, her forehead, her lips, leaving her marked, claimed. Her breath hitched, her body shuddering at the rough caress. He leaned down, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You hear me, Shanté? Don't ever talk about my Mama again." His hand tightened in her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her throat. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. "You understand me?" She blinked, her eyes glazed, her body limp. She let out a soft, breathy moan, her lips curving into a slow, satisfied smile. "My bad, nigga," she mumbled, her voice slurred. "Shit, that was... that was..." She didn't finish, her eyes rolling back, her body going limp. Her breath evened out, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Ty watched her, a smug smile playing on his lips. He reached down, his fingers tracing the line of his cum on her face. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers, a soft, possessive kiss. Then he stepped back, his eyes never leaving her as he pulled on his clothes. He glanced at the clock, a satisfied smirk on his face. He'd given her something to remember, something to think about. And as he walked out, leaving her passed out on the couch, he knew he'd made his point.