Zane's Busy Bodies: Chocolate Flava 4 (12 page)

“What are you staring at?” he questions as he takes a sip of his Crown Royal.

“You,” I reply, as I take a sip of the chilled drink in front of me, in hopes of slowing down our time together. Stammering over my thoughts, trying to find something to say that won’t make me sound like either a complete fool or a slut. Whatever comes out of my mouth will only reveal the truth; I’m his forever, a faithful concubine.

“It’s almost midnight. Getting late,” he tells me as he takes a spoonful of his dessert; white chocolate bread pudding.

Leaning into the center of our quaint table, the votive candle illuminating my face, I whisper, “Then, we should get going.”

He grabs my hand. “I’m not ready.” His voice is seductive as he draws circles in the palm of my hand with his fingertip. Although he’s not ready, the words he really wants to utter are, “Please don’t leave me.”

Staring into his eyes, I reveal, “We eventually have to go home, Tre’.”

“I am home.” He smiles. His fingertip slowly runs up the side of my arm.

The cocoa-colored silk shirt lays over his firm chest softly. The two top buttons are undone. He knows that drives me wild. He’s fucking with me and I like it. The smell of his cologne penetrates all my senses and as I inhale his pheromones, my pussy gushes and releases in anticipation of him. A sticky wetness announces its presence.

“Still hungry?” he asks as he places a spoon of white chocolate into my mouth, dangling the spoon around my lips, making me smile as I try to capture it.

“Let me see your tongue,” he commands.

I obey.

As my tongue parts my lips once more, I reach for what he has to offer. As I place the pudding on the tip of my tongue, the sweet sensation arouses my senses. I lick my lips, wanting more.

“Lick it slowly,” he tells me.

Once again, I obey.

“Good girl. You like the way it tastes, don’t you?” His eyes watch my lips with envy.

“I do.”

“More where that came from.” Lust lingers in the air as he licks the spoon behind me, showing a bit of his skill.

I want to fuck the shit out of him.

“I know.”

I smile. Missing the smell of his day’s work. The smell of his erection then eventual release.

“So, why did you marry her?”

HIM . . .

In a seductive upsweep, long curls of wavy jet black hair adorn her crown. There’s a whole lot I’d like her to do with those big, juicy lips of hers—namely, use them to meet and greet every inch of my body. Thoughts of the warmth of her mouth around my dick make me slightly hard. The discomfort is inviting.

Damn, I want her in the worst way.

I keep reminding myself every ten minutes or so that I’m not here to kiss those pretty, luscious, crimson-stained lips; and that reminder has me going crazy inside. Unapologetically, she’s built. Cornbread fed, thick, like she grew up eating shrimp and grits. Truth be told, I have no business being here: dim lights, candles all around, close to midnight, in the corner of a restaurant that has been our place of reconnection over the years. In a strange way, it is home—our own private, secluded place in the universe where she is mine and I am hers, alone.
Our home,
I think, our place of refuge where everything that is so wrong about our love affair is so unequivocally right.

But I have every damn right to be here with my woman, my lady, my heart, my life, the love of my life . . . but she’s not my wife.

Sitting alluringly, she crosses one long, curvaceous leg over the other and softly feathers a loose curl from her brow.

With the boldness of a cobra, I believe, in my world full of fantasies, that she is all mine and that during this lifetime, we just never got on the same page at the same time. We each somehow ended up on the opposite sides of the tracks.

I fucked up, and I know it. She moved on. I grew up. She was gone. I fell in love again. Newly married now. I’m happy. I love my wife.

But Tia is my soul mate.

She laughs when I use those words. But it’s the truth. Her heart sings the same song as mine. Our hearts beat to the tune of the same drum. Richly appealing to the senses and my mind, she is without a doubt the best lover I’ve ever had.

“I married her because you were already taken.” I smile as I lean in to watch those lips of hers go to work on this spoonful of white chocolate bread pudding.

“Right.”

A look of sarcasm comes over her face and the writing is once again on the wall.

“Well, you are, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Taken, Tia.”

“Yes.”

“So . . .”

“Tre’, I’ve always been yours.”

“I know I fucked up.”

“You did.”

“I love you, Tia.”

“I love you too, always.”

“Be with me.”

“I’d have to murder you, Tre’.” She smirks and is fully aware of what that does to me.

Bowing my head in shame, I smile, and at the same time she rubs her foot across my leg.

My eyes gaze down at her leg—big, thick, juicy, sweet, caramel-coated piece of heavenly perfection. And those shoes. Those come-fuck-me-daddy heels, with the peep toe and cherry-red painted nails making an entrance, force me into temporary psychosis as I try to regain my composure. The blood
rushes to my dick and I’m solid, like the Rock of Gibraltar. She knows it. She knows this dick so well since she was the one who’d trained it. I miss the stickiness of her nectar.

Smiling as she wickedly rubs my leg with hers, she tells me to touch.

“Go ahead. Touch it.” Authority dictates her words.

“Touch what?”

“Whatever you want, Tre’.”

I’m going straight to hell after tonight.

“You look so damn good tonight, baby.”

I want that good ole feeling. The sensation of our bodies as we arrive together. Need that like I need this air I’m breathing.

“Talking like that will get your dick sucked.”

Straight to hell I go,
but not until I get knee-deep in that pussy that’s been drowning me so good for the last two decades.

“So, how’s the family?”

HER . . .

The walls of my pussy are set on fire just by the pure thought of him. Sensing the heat on my body, I feel his eyes pierce through to the depths of my soul. I know he’s watching, scoping, observing all of the lumps, bumps, curves, peaks, and valleys better known as me these days.

I’m remembering nights of unbridled passion. I was his godless bride, who sinfully, yet delightfully, received a plethora of deep dick—so deep, I breathed for him.

My favorite nightmare. In my dreams, he is my reality. In my reality, he is all I’ve ever dreamed of. Even in those places and times where our souls collided, and then made love, in this
lifetime, in the here and now, and eternities past, over decades, through our ancestors, and beyond; every time I close my eyes, he’s been right there. He says we’ve been married in every life we’ve ever known. I believe him.

When I’m in his arms, I feel free. I’ve fallen, head over heels, for two decades with this man, in this lifetime, others, and throughout eternity.

I remember him . . .

A decade ago, we met once again. Our souls cried to the heavens, shouted aloud to soft clouds; our spirits yearned for the comfort of each other’s pillow. Our bodies, riddled with uncontrollable desire, anxiously waited long enough, too long, for the chance to rekindle, reconnect
—
to love, to suck, to feel, to fuck, over and over again. Limbs and fingertips, hot skin, weak and weary flesh called, our spirits yearned, our souls begged; we put the call out into the universe, she heard our pleas, and placed “us” into the midst of each other, once again, to put closure to a love of the past; a stubborn lust, infatuation, dependency, a rare love, a delightful combination of fire and desire that, over time, became impossible to extinguish.

We met in the parking lot of a mall that we had fucked in, in every crevice and corner allowed. That mall parking lot had seen my ass in the air in the back of a Grand Cherokee. Same mall became privy to a long, thick, chocolate-coated staff that delved into a hot, wet cave that had his name engraved on its sweltering flesh.

He opened the door to his Infiniti and I hopped in. We gazed into each other’s eyes for an eternity, and as his foot pressed the pedal to the floor, we woke up, and cruised down Route 1 and 9. Small talk ensued, and the comfort level that had laid a foundation of love soared through the air, until those words parted from his lips, “I’ll always love you.”

A raging, untamable, hot, wet pussy screamed his name, and I crossed my legs to shut her the fuck up. His right hand rubbed up and down my
thigh and landed on my love; he covered it with his hand, felt my heat, he smiled; I turned red, embarrassed. “That pussy is hot for me, already, Tia. I’m pulling over.”

I had no words for him. He was and still is the boss. I exhaled. He switched lanes. Ninety miles per hour. He drove to the nearest exit. I leaned in to kiss him. Gave him my tongue. He received it, gave me his in return. Nipples hardened. I planted my hand on his crotch. Rock solid, beautiful dick of a gorgeous black man, made me release. I exhaled in his mouth.

My face found its way to an unfastened zipper. I kissed the bulbous head of a dick that only arrived into my life straight from the motherland. Kissed it. Licked it. Sucked it. Loved it.

Parking lot. Corner space. Couldn’t get into the backseat soon enough. My legs wrapped around his neck and landed on his shoulders where they belonged. His hands ran up my thighs, hiked up my skirt. Pulled my panties to the side. Deep dick he gave me. He cried out as he entered me. We fucked each other like we were mad, happy, sad. We made love like we owed each other something. He stroked me like he was teaching me a lesson. I gave him back those glorious thrusts like I had to do it. Like a goddamn gun was pointed to my head, I fucked him, well, because he deserved it. He fucked me like I was his whore. Made love to me like I was his wife. Kissed me like I was the love of his life.

Damn, I remember the days . . .

“You are my family.”

“I know that, but you know what I meant, Tia.”

“I’m here with you. Savor the moment.”

“I am. It’s bittersweet. You’ll go to another once we’ve renewed our vows tonight,” he tells me as he smiles. It’s a nervous grin. I know he’s hurting.

“I’ll always belong to you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, baby. Besides, no one can take you to flight like I can. I know you better than you know yourself.”

I stare in his eyes.

“You have fans in that corner over there.” He leans his head to the right, where there are two women, presumably lesbians from the way they’re curled up with each other in that booth.

“Is that right?” I ask, blushing from ear to ear. I saw them jocking earlier but gave it no energy.

“See, you turn everyone on.”

I smile, raise my martini glass to acknowledge them.

“Stop,” he demands, grabs my hand.

“Why?”

“I don’t want anyone loving you but me.”

“Have me any way you want to.”

“Word?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve thought about you all night. Dick gets so hard, just thinking about seeing you again.”

I smile. “I miss the sound of your footsteps as you walk toward my bed.”

“Your walls are imploring me to have my way with them, I just know it. Because no one knows that pussy the way I do. And no one satisfies it the way I can.”

I look to my right. My eyes meet with his thighs, and every ounce of me wants to lick those pretty, brown, muscular, strong thighs. As my eyes peer upward, the bulge sits fat and firm in between his thighs, awaiting my lips to suck it from root to tip and back again. Delicious, delectable, delightful dick, dares me to make its acquaintance once more; it wants and needs my undying and undivided attention.

Sweet cum pours from succulent and swollen pussy lips and fluidly flows onto my thighs. If he only knew how badly I wanted him to drink what I poureth, as my cup runneth over with a savory and slick, wet mess for him to devour.

“We’re on the other side of midnight, Tre’. Now what?”

HIM . . .

The warmth of her touch, the shadow of her smile, and the bounce in her stride made her my daily feast throughout history where we’d invade each other’s worlds and universe in this life and any other lives. I have loved her throughout time and I’m convinced she is all of me, infinitely, all the time; it’s a neverending journey with her. She’s my life, my lover, and my wife in all of my lives. Night after night, I yearned for a drop of her time and a piece of her mind, and just like that I was in ecstasy. Tender, tempting, touching, made for tantalizing, thunderous taunts that led to sultry, sweltering, scintillating sex. Making love to Tia every night, without inhibition, is what has fed this monster over decades, across states, even after other lovers dissipate. To let her get away was crazy. My picture in life would not be the same if she were absent from my world.

“The other side of midnight is where we go into a dangerous place. That place where neither of us needs to be, yet we belong here,” I tell her as she reaches for her drink.

My hand covers hers, and I see her leg start to tremble. She taught me how to love. What I’ve given in return is the best love she’s ever had. The kind of love that has her pussy twitching for days; the kind of loving she wants over and over, the kind of
love only I can provide. The kind of love that has her sugar walls trained to my command.

“You really wear the hell out of that shirt,” she tells me. She smiles, trying to ease the tension.

“I thought you would like it.”

“I love it, Tre’.”

“I love you, Tia.”

“I need to get home, Tre’.”

“I need you.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Why did you come, Tia?”

“B . . . b . . . because . . .”

“Because you need me, just as much as I need you.” Taking her hand in mine, I tell her, “I need you so bad. Please don’t leave me.”