Zane's Busy Bodies: Chocolate Flava 4 (24 page)

I kissed him, straightened my dress, finger-combed my hair, and got out of the limo. As I headed back inside to go to the ladies’ room, I thought about what had just happened, and what was about to happen, and I decided everything was as it needed to be. I went into the restroom and got myself all cleaned up, swirled around a little mouthwash, retouched the makeup, and I was good to go. I needed to get to my seat anyway, it was time to start.

I walked in and sat down, and it was then that I saw Vincent again. He was standing there all fixed up and looking wonderful, and staring straight at me. I smiled at him, and he smiled back, but only for a second, because he had to refocus on the woman standing in the back of the room. So I stood and turned to look at her, as did everyone else.

Winter Marie Henderson looked beautiful. She and I shared so many similarities; it was almost like looking in a mirror. We were both tall, with dark hair, fair skin, and brown eyes. But there was one major physical difference: the baby bump that
was so subtly being hidden by the flowers in her hand. The other major difference was our personalities. She was quiet, demure, and the type of woman that would give up her entire career to be a stay-at-home mother and a housewife. Now don’t get me wrong, to dedicate your life to your husband and child is admirable, but it wasn’t for me. I’d worked entirely too hard to get where I was in my career to let it all go right then. And that was why she was the one in the white dress, and I was sitting among the guests.

I sat through Vincent’s wedding and did question whether I had made the right decision, but I did what had to be done. Vincent wanted to marry me, but I couldn’t be the type of wife he really wanted, so I set him free to find her, and find her he had.

I stood and clapped as they were pronounced husband and wife, and gave hugs and well wishes in the receiving line. I danced with Marcus at the reception, and watched as Vincent and his new bride fed each other cake. I even stood with everyone and threw birdseed as the newlyweds rode off together into the night in the very same limo that Vincent and I had made love in just hours earlier. What I’d done was wrong on so many levels, but I didn’t regret it. I truly loved Vincent, he was my soul mate, but I had to let him go. So I resolved to do just that.

I was heading across the parking lot to get in my car when I felt my phone vibrate again. I pulled it out of my purse, wondering who it might be. To my surprise, it was a text from Vincent.

I have a business trip next month; I hope you’ll be willing to join me. Please?

I was so conflicted. Sleeping with a married man was wrong, but I was beyond in love with Vincent.

So I sent my reply: E-mail me the details.

I got a simple
as a response.

The decision I’d just made wasn’t the smartest one. It could lead to all kinds of trouble. It was wrong, but then I thought about the old Luther Ingram lyrics, “If loving you is wrong . . . I don’t wanna be right.” So, with that decided, I got into my car and headed toward home, thinking about Vincent, my now-married lover.

Landon Dixon

She was there again, third night in a row. I took a drag on my cigarette, staring at the window across the alley, at the silhouette of the naked woman dancing behind the lighted shade.

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 her 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.