by Zane
The bitch.
The building next door was a run-down hotel, like mine. But that body was the stuff of dreams.
I was in town on business, and every evening when I got back to my room, come midnight, the music went on and the woman started dancing. Exotic, erotic dancing, behind the lit-up shade. I’d added a few more stains to the threadbare carpeting, sucking down coffin nails like I was planning my own funeral, stroking dick like there was no tomorrow—watching her sway and undulate and writhe to the thumping music.
She was slim and curvy, agile, tits huge in profile, seductive hips in motion, legs long and slender. Her hair was loose, flying all over the place when the siren song burned hot, clutched in her hands and streaming through her fingers when it smoldered sultry.
I was there for the floor show every night, mesmerized, cigarette dangling from my dry lips, hard-on filling my damp hand. She cavorted in serpentine shadow for fifteen minutes or so. And then the lights would go out.
The curtain never rose, the shade staying down, despite my cursed begging.
I was ready to tear my cock out by the roots, tear that window covering to shreds. I had to do something more meaningful than jerk and jack. A man only gets such an opportunity once in a lifetime. I was a day overdue at my next stop already, but I wasn’t about to hit the road until I’d seen for myself what was behind that shade—seen it and fucked it.
I crushed out my cigarette, did up my pants. I kicked my sample cases into the closet and locked it, exited the dingy room, testing the door lock on the way out. It was ten after midnight, and the dance was going full swing. Only tonight, the babe was going to have a partner.
I raced down the stairs and hustled along the sidewalk, punched through the door of the neighboring fleabag, and climbed those stairs three at a time. She was in 404. I knew that from hours of figuring and fantasizing. I knocked on the gray wooden door. It opened.
“Yes?”
She was naked, ten times as dark and delicious as she’d appeared behind the living window shade. “I’ve been watching you,” I said, giving my eyes a free ride all over her lush, black velvet body.
She wetted her plush lips with the tip of her neon-pink tongue, and smiled. “You’ve seen me perform?”
“You could put it that way.”
She had large, liquid brown eyes in a smooth, oval face, her hair dark and straight and long. Her tits hung plump and ripe off her chest, two-inch-wide areolas black as the night. Her waist was hands-spanningly narrow and her legs were shapely and shining, her pussy highlighted by a strip of fine, black fur.
It was too much too close for this sex-starved salesman. I grabbed the noir doll in my arms and mashed my hungry lips into hers, squeezing her big breasts against my chest, clutching her soft, hot, erotic body close. The nights of torment had turned me animal.
She sensed it, and welcomed it. Her lithe arms coiled around my neck and her lips moved against mine, body fitting mine like a heated glove. We only came up for air when some drunken bum staggered up the stairs and burped at us. Then I pushed the ebony goddess inside and kicked the door shut, my hands and mouth all over her.
Wildly kissing, I dove my paws down her silky, curved back and filled them full with the heavy, rounded meat of her butt, gripping and squeezing her bloated cheeks. She moaned into my mouth. The moan was followed by her tongue, spearing inside and wrapping around my tongue. Her hot, humid breath and body made my head spin, my heart pound.
I was way overdressed. I released her ass and tore my shirt open and off, kicked my shoes away, and shoved my pants and underwear down. She didn’t let go of me for a second, clinging to my neck and snaking her tongue all around my lips and under my chin, squirming her body to the beat of my cock.
I pressed my erection into her belly, pumping skin-on-skin, gathering up her butt mounds again and lifting her right off the floor. I stuck my tongue out as far as it would go and let her suck on it, her pouty lips pulling hard.
She eased her head back, sliding her mouth off my tongue. “Where you seen me perform?”
I grinned, grinding my cock against her stomach. “Right across the alley. Through the shade.”
She turned her head and looked at the window. “No shit? You can see through that?”
I didn’t know who was shitting who, and didn’t care. “Not like now,” I said, moving my hands up between us and grabbing on to her luscious tits.
“Oooh!” she moaned. “Let’s put on a real show—for anyone else watching.”
It sounded like a plan—for getting into her pussy. There was probably more than one pervert peeping the late-night show, like I’d been doing. Now, they could see what happened when a man had the balls to act on his basic instincts.
We moved over next to the shaded window, in profile.
“I’m Monique, by the way.”
I hefted her tits and dipped my head and painted her incredible areolas with my tongue. She shuddered, mambas jumping in my hands. They overflowed my mitts, huge and soft and hot, baby-smooth except for the aroused bumps on her areolas, where my tongue was spinning.
I swirled all around her engorged, licorice nipples, then spanked the jutters with my tongue, staring up into the woman’s hooded eyes.
“Fuck, mama likes!” Monique groaned, her dragon nails biting into my bare shoulders.
I roughly massaged her breasts out to the tips and urgently sucked on her nipples, mouthing and tugging first one, then the other. The tangy-sweet scent of the vixen-in-heat filled my head, the taste and texture of her tits swelling my cock to the point of vibration.
Her turn.
She slid down out of my hands, landing on her knees on the carpet, dick-high. She stared at my twitching rod, her eyes and tits shining. Then she laced her coal-black fingers around the pulsing tan organ, making me jump.
“Fuck!” I grunted, feeling the babe’s warm, soft touch all through me.
She cupped my balls and stroked my cock, while looking up at me with her big brown eyes, her parted lips an inch away from my pearled cap.
Her mouth opened wider, engulfing my hood, wrapping me in wet, wicked warmth. I jerked, watching and feeling the woman slide her lips down my pulsating length, swallow my cock. I bucked when she hit the three-quarters mark, almost blasted when she kissed up against my balls.
What a show those pervs next door were getting, watching Monique fully inhale the rigid length of my dong. I was packed tight in her mouth and throat, cushioned in velvety wetness. The black bombshell gripped my trembling thighs and bobbed her head back and forth, sucking on my cock.
She absolutely wet-vacced my prick, lips sealed tight and tongue flowing, up and down, mouth and throat sensuously stretching to accommodate and envelop. She sucked fast, sucked slow, pulling me longer and harder, her cauldron of a mouth boiling my balls to the blow-off point.
My turn again. She smelled so wonderful, looked and felt and tasted so juicy, I just had to get the ultimate mouthful—in between her legs.
I picked her up by the waist, dropped down to my own knees on the carpet, pussy-level. She was sodden, dripping with moisture, lips swollen black and slick on the outside, pink and gleaming on the inside. I stuck out my tongue and touched her flaps with the tip.
“Jesus, yeah!” she gasped, jerking.
I slid my hands around her thighs and onto the twin, fleshy swells of her butt cheeks, digging my fingernails into the smooth, stretched skin. Then I licked up her slit from deep in between her legs to the top of her trimmed black fur, dragging her pussy in one long, hard, wet stroke.
“Oooh, baby!” she moaned, bum and body jumping in my hands.
She grabbed up her tits, squeezed them, staring down at me, trembling. I looked up at her and grinned, my lips glistening with the woman’s dew. Then I licked her again, and again. I lapped her pussy, stroking her flaps with my tongue, scooping up her spicy juices and gulping them down.
Her long, lithe legs quivered out of control. She slid her hands forward on h
er tits and captured her jutting nipples between her fingers, rolled them, pulled them, as I tongued her repeatedly.
Finally, I jerked my head back and smacked my lips. Then I spread her plumped pussy lips wide with my fingers, exposing her shining pink still more, her swollen clit. I blew on her clit, making her shudder. I fashioned my tongue into a crimson wet blade and speared it inside her.
“Fuck!” she cried, jolted by the impact of my tongue in her slit.
I pistoned my head back and forth, pumping her, fucking her with my thrust-out sticker before burying it inside her and squirming it around, digging deep into her oiled twat. She bent over almost in two, grabbing onto my head, overcome with raw emotion.
I pulled my tongue out of her tunnel and dragged her flaps again. I tickled her clit. She groaned, staring glassy-eyed down at me. I flogged her hardened pink nub with my tongue.
“Suck it, baby! Please, suck on my clitty!” she gasped.
I kissed her clit, engulfed it with my lips, sucked on the swollen button. She bucked, her buttocks rippling under my grasping hands. I vacuum-sealed her clit, my cheeks billowing. Her trigger pulsed in my mouth, the babe quivering wickedly.
“Fuck! I’m gonna come!” she wailed.
Not yet, not solo. This was a shared dirty dance.
I spat out her clit and jumped to my feet, tried to push Monique onto the bed.
But she held her ground, gasping, gripping my throbbing cock. “Don’t forget our audience,” she said.
Then she spun around in front of me, and I grabbed onto her waist and my cock. I probed her pussy, and plunged inside. We both groaned.
Her twat was pure velvet heaven, juiced beyond succulent thanks to me, and her. I grasped her tits and rocked back and forth, fucking the babe. She leaned back into me, twisting her head around to squirm her tongue against my tongue.
Her booty bounced to my frantic thrusts, our bodies melded together with heat and sweat, cock and cunt. I fucked her ferociously, right in front of that lit-up window shade.
But before we both lost control, Monique bounced right off my rod, leaving me hanging and raging—temporarily. “Let’s give ’em the full show, baby!” she rasped, bending forward and reaching back and spreading her thick, black buttocks.
I slapped her hands aside and grasped the twin dark moons, squeezing, kneading the taut flesh. She shimmied her ass in my hands, deliciously rippling her cheeks. She was built back there like up front, no question about it.
I smacked one of her cheeks, then the other, just to watch them gyrate. She whimpered, trembling. I clutched them again, sinking my fingers in deep, really working the pliable ass meat. Then I tore one hand away and grabbed on to my cock, split the babe’s overblown mounds with my bloated hood. She pushed back, enveloping my knob in her hot cheeks. I played the slick tip of my dick up and down the smooth length of her ass cleavage, rubbing pre-cum and her own juices into her crack.
“Fuck my ass!” she hissed, reaching around again and tearing her butt open for business.
Her pucker blossomed like a night flower, just above my cap, right before my eyes. It was time to hit her ass, hardcore.
I scooped some juice from her pussy, slathered my already spit-slippery cock with it, then her crack. She jerked when I scrubbed her bum cleavage with my fingers, quivered when I hit her asshole with my cockhead.
Her fingertips burned white on her black buttocks, as I plowed my cap into her hole, popping ring, filling chute. She was oven-hot and vise-tight. I drove my dick so deep into her anus that my balls kissed up against her butt cheeks, buried.
“Jesus!” she moaned, rotating her plush bottom against my groin. “That feels sooo fuckin’ nasty!”
It felt damn fine from my end, too, embedded in the woman’s ass. I grasped her narrow waist, gritted my teeth, slowly pumped my hips, fucking her butt, gliding my glistening cock back and forth in her chute.
I surged with wicked heat, the babe’s anus sucking on my cock as I plunged it. I quickly upped the tempo, pumping faster, banging my thighs into her back mounds, making them shudder, churning her chute.
She moaned low and long, pushing back against me in rhythm, splashing her cheeks against my body, consuming my pistoning cock with her ass. I hammered into her hole, my fingernails biting into the flesh of her waist. Her buttocks rippled nonstop with the brutal impact of my frantic thrusting. I was reaming the woman.
I pulled back, out, the both of us on the brink, almost over the edge. I hit her pussy again, going from her hole to her slit, spearing into the molten heat of the babe up to my nuts.
Monique arched her body upward, against me, flinging her arms back and around my neck, twisting her head around to flail her tongue against my tongue. I grabbed her jumping tits and pumped like a madman. We weren’t long in coming, not after all that had gone on before.
I grunted, and jerked, my flapping balls boiling over. I bit into Monique’s tongue and clamped down on her nipples, blasting inside the babe, spurting to the jolting rhythm of my orgasm. She shivered in my arms and screamed into my mouth, feeling every bit of what I was feeling in white-hot rushes.
Or maybe not.
Returning to my hotel room, I found the door ajar, the closet unlocked, my two sample cases full of pearls, diamonds, and gold jewelry gone. There was a scent of perfume in the air. I looked over at the window across the way—dark.
The shadow dancer had lured me away from my precious inventory so her girlfriend could rob me. Our triple-X tango behind the shade had merely been the signal for timing the heist.
But even the sneak-thief had still made time to leave behind a sticky squirt of her own enthusiasm on the carpet, no doubt after watching Monique’s magnificent performance.
The bitches.
Keeping Him
Cynthia Marie
Dasia lay across her bed, exhausted. Another day had come to an end and the twins were sleeping soundly. Whoever said being a stay-at-home mother was easy and anyone who felt differently were truly fucked up in the head. Dasia was looking forward to her weekly outing tomorrow, just to get a break from her boring-ass life.
Once a popular news anchor for WSB-TV in Atlanta, Dasia met Stephen Anderson when he pulled her over for a speeding ticket. Afterward, they were inseparable and after two years of dating, they married at twenty-five. Their life was good until, nine months after their first anniversary, a set of twin boys made their debut. In an attempt to allow Dasia to be what she felt was a good mother, the couple decided it was best for her to quit her job and care for the kids until they were school-age.
Dasia missed the excitement of her life and career. She loved her boys, but neither she nor Stephen was prepared for the drastic change in their lives. No more weekend getaways, spontaneity, alone time, sleeping late, and no more bomb-ass sex. Dasia was self-conscious about her body. Not only were her breasts constantly leaking and her stomach was no longer taut, she was concerned that two seven-pound babies had stretched her pussy out and Stephen wouldn’t be satisfied. She refused to let him see her naked for fear that he wouldn’t see her the same way as before and it became a sore spot in their marriage. For the past four months, their lives revolved around the babies but neither wanted to address how they were feeling.
Dozing off, Dasia stirred when she heard her bedroom door close. Her eyes fluttered and her husband’s body came into full view.
“Hey, bay,” she greeted him, sitting up on her elbows and yawning.
“Hey.” Stephen looked at his wife and saw that, as usual, she wore a pair of his sweats and her hair was wrapped.
“How was your day?” Dasia watched him remove his artillery and undress. Stephen’s hard work had gotten him promoted to the fugitive recovery team and he always shared funny stories.
“Same ole, same ole. Ran up on a lot of folks tonight who missed their court dates. Had to remind them and put them in time out,” he joked.
Dasia laughed.
“We even ran up on some hookers who were too bu
sy working to go to court.” He finished unfastening his bulletproof vest and flung it over the chair.
“Hookers, huh?”
“Yeah. You’d never believe the kind of shit they’d do to avoid going to jail.”
“Did someone do something to you?” She glared at him, wondering if he’d tell her the truth.
He caught the sarcasm in his wife’s voice but didn’t feed into it. He didn’t want to tell her that he was close to letting one of the chicks blow him as her get-out-of-jail-free card. She definitely wouldn’t have understood. Things at home were tense and the couple hadn’t been intimate since the twins were born. Stephen loved his wife but felt like she didn’t have time for him. Because he loved her, instead of cheating, he worked longer and harder.
“No, babe.” Kicking off his shoes and pulling off his pants, he changed the subject because he knew where it would lead. “How was your day?”
“Besides changing diapers and being a human milk machine, I was able to make dinner for you. It’s in the microwave.”
“I ate earlier. I realize that you’re busy so I didn’t want you to do anything extra just for me.”
“Stephen,” she huffed, “I don’t mind but you could have called.”
Standing in front of her in his boxers, he looked at his wife. “I’m sorry and you’re right. Well, maybe I can make it up to you.”
Dasia looked at his crotch and saw an erection. “Hmm . . . maybe.” She smiled. He still turned her on, and she wanted nothing more than to please her man, but was afraid of what he’d think.
Stephen knew that any chance of making love to his wife was damn near impossible, but he was going to try. With anticipation, he trotted off to the bathroom for a quick shower but his anticipation turned to frustration when he returned. His wife was curled up on her side of the bed, asleep.
• • •
The next morning, Dasia was awakened by a faint sound coming from their bathroom. Stephen wasn’t in bed, but a light shone from underneath the door. She heard the noise again so she tiptoed to the door, pressed her ear against it, and heard muffled moans.