The man is an older black gentleman.

I do not see the man's eyes behind the tinted lens of his gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses. He is intimidating, having not said a word as I struggle to service his long cock. I'm quite sure it wouldn't fit fully in my vagina. He tilts his head slightly, switching sides on occasion. The way he is looking down at me is making me nervous, but I continue nonetheless.

I have sucked black cocks before and even been railed by them, but I can honestly say I do not get much of them wanting sessions. So, considering the majority of client having had lighter skin tones than my current client, I haven't had much practice with well-endowed members such as this. I guess right now is the perfect opportunity to hone my craft.

I use my mouth and tongue on every surface of his cock, from the tip of the head, along the crown, and down the whole shaft to the base. I alternate the licking and general lubrication of the cock with my saliva with the insertion of the head into my mouth, allowing it to fill my oral cavity all the way to my tonsils. I try not to let it venture further into my throat. On occasion, I look up into those black lenses, seeing my reflection in the pair, but failing to get any more expression on the black man's features. It's like I am fornicating with a robot sex doll.

I come to realize that I haven't paid attention to a certain part of his genitalia. Below the base of his rock-hard rod, is a bulbous sack that appears to be akin to a thick leather sack with a single giant marble inside. It's when I place my hand on it, kneading into the soft flesh and squeezing hard enough to find a pair of harder, yet still soft, masses which feel as big as chicken eggs. I catch a glimpse of the man's eyebrow rising and I assume he found interest in my discovery of his ballsack. My caressing of his scrotum does not garner any expression other than the rise of his eyebrows.

I abhorred the idea of placing my mouth on his ballsack in the beginning, but considering the scent I had smelled once I was face-to-face with his cock was like he had washed up prior to meeting with me, I thought that there were worse things I've done as Charlene. I bury my face, my mouth aimed to search and hone in on one of the hidden gems floating in the sack. My hands continuing stroking and caressing the sensitive areas of his cock which is fortunately still lubricated by my saliva.

With my voluntary drowning in his scrotum, my ears hear the man moan for the first time. His moan turns into a groan when I start sucking on the hard spheroid hidden inside. I do the same to the other, before returning my mouth to his cockhead. I let my hand linger under his sack, squeezing the whole mass and even singling out each egg-like mass in the sack and entice the black man with periodical squeezes with my fingers. I alternate the sucking arousal of his cock with burying my face in his scrotum. Along the way, the black man reclines in his seat, visibly relaxed and I start to pant, at times out of breath for the amount of work I have to do, since my goal is his ejaculation. At least he lets out a groan every time my mouth is on his ballsack.

I start to slow when I see him pull out his phone, but never do I stop my servicing. The black man lets out a sigh, probably of disappointment. It's not towards me, though. He lifts his shades, letting me see his eyes for the first time. He assures me, "Miss Charlene. I'm sorry, but I'm going to cut our session short. You were doing well and I was beginning to enjoy it. But I have company company over and I'd rather that you get on your way home before he arrives." This prompts me to stop and stand, wiping the saliva off my face and hands. The black man stands after me fixing his pants. He walks me to the door.

Before we get into the foyer proper, the front door opens as a younger-looking black man enters. He is tall too, though he doesn't have the same intimidating demeanor as my client. "Hey Mr. Jones. Who's this?" the younger, yet still-looks-older-than-me, man greets and asks who the young woman next to the gentleman is.

"This is Charlene. She is already leaving and can't stay," Mr. Jones says, probably to discourage the other man from getting any ideas. "Charlene, have a nice day." I give him a nod with a smile and shoulder my purse before making my approach towards the door. The man who had just come in smiles at me, but I do not return the gestures. He tries to step out of the way to let me through, but he awkwardly collides with me, causing me to lose my balance for a second. I luckily don't fall, as the wall near the open door prevents me from getting to the floor, but in my imbalance, something falls from my bag.