Zane's Busy Bodies: Chocolate Flava 4

  After several minutes, she moves her body closer to his waist and while holding his dick in place, she eases down on top of it. Kevin enjoys watching her apple bottom bounce up and down on top of his dick. Shayla moans each time her wet pussy slides down and fills up with his big, hard dick. Then she begins to swivel her hips from side to side, grinding his cock deeper inside her warm pussy. She turns her head and smiles at him, seeing the pleasure on his face. She swivels her entire body around and resumes the up and down motion.

  He watches her big breasts bounce up and down and reaches up to hold them. Shayla places her hands on top of his. She rides him intensely as his hands move down to her waist, helping her up and down, faster and harder, and minutes later, with the vigorous sensation increasing, they both reach an exhausting climax and cum at the same time. With a satisfied grin on her face, Shayla climbs off and crawls over to the pastry cart. She slices a big piece of cake, lies on his chest, and offers him a bite. He takes a huge bite, then she takes a huge bite as well. Each of them has white icing on their upper lip. They share a laugh while continuing to eat their anniversary cake.

  • • •

  The next morning, Shayla is driving to work with her coworker and best friend Tracy in the passenger seat. She is telling Tracy about the intimate, candlelit dinner that she and her husband had last night.

  “Then, after dinner, we danced for a little bit, then we got naked and . . .”

  Shayla glances across the front seat and notices that Tracy seems to be fighting back tears while gazing out the window. As she pulls into the employee parking lot, she finds the nearest empty spot and parks the car.

  “Tracy, what’s wrong?” Tracy doesn’t respond. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t tell anybody.”

  Tracy turns and glares at Shayla. “You mean like the time in high school, when you told everyone that I was in the broom closet giving Derek a blow job?”

  “I told you, it just slipped out.”

  “There was a crowd of people waiting with cell phone cameras when we opened the door.”

  “I thought you were gonna swallow, or at least wipe your face off before you came out.”

  Tracy folds her arms and turns her head away from Shayla.

  “Come on, Tracy, you’re obviously upset about something. It’ll help if you talk about it.”

  Tracy sighs and turns back to her friend, looking for some reassurance. “You promise not to tell anybody?”

  Shayla tries to look and sound sincere.

  “I promise.”

  Tracy pauses, then explains to Shayla how, for the past four months, she and Derek have not had sex.

  “Wow! You haven’t had any dick for four months?”

  Tracy nods and as her eyes begin to swell with tears, Shayla reaches into her purse and pulls out some tissue, then hands it to Tracy.

  “Have you tried wearing something sexy?”

  Tracy explains that she tried wearing sexy sleepwear but Derek wouldn’t take his eyes off his books long enough to notice. Shayla consoles her friend by allowing Tracy to cry on her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.”

  • • •

  Later that evening, Derek is in the front room of the apartment, pacing back and forth, waiting for Tracy to arrive home. After wearing a groove in the rug, he stops upon hearing a key in the lock. The door swings open, and Tracy is surprised to see him.

  “Derek? I thought you were going to be at the library.”

  “I changed my mind. Where’ve you been?”

  “Shayla took me to the store after work.”

  Tracy walks over to the kitchen table and pours out a plastic bag full of size AA batteries. Derek looks at the batteries, puzzled, then follows her into the living room.

  “I had an interesting chat with your friend Shayla today.”

  “What about?”

  “About you and me!” he says, his voice rising.

  “Derek, what are you so upset about?”

  “I don’t like the idea of you telling other people about our personal business. If there’s a problem, then you need to talk to me about it!”

  Tracy raises the level of her voice to match his. “Well, maybe if you were taking care of your personal business, I wouldn’t have to talk to someone else about it!”

  Derek suddenly gets defensive. “What do you mean by that?”

  Tracy explains that she resents the fact that he pays more attention to his schoolbooks than to her, and that she would even be happy if once in a while, he told her to have a nice day at work.

  Tracy bolts into the bedroom and slams the door behind her. Seconds later, she comes out of the bedroom, marches defiantly into the kitchen, grabs a pack of batteries off the table, and marches back into the bedroom, slamming the door again. Derek responds by heading out the front door and slamming it behind him.

  • • •

  Later that same evening, Derek goes to visit his best friend, Kevin. He and Derek are in the basement, drinking at his custom-made bar set. Derek is sitting somberly at a barstool and drinks down the last of his second beer. Kevin watches him patiently from behind the bar.

  “You want another one?”

  Derek nods and Kevin retrieves a bottle of beer from a nearby fridge, opens it, and hands it to his friend.

  “I hope before you finish this one, you get around to telling me what you’re so upset about.”

  Derek sighs.

  “Tracy and I had a fight.”

  “Yeah, I figured that much. What was the fight about?”

  Derek takes a drink from the bottle, then explains that he has not been intimate with his wife for several months.

  “Why not?” Derek gives Kevin an awkward glance. “Oh, that. Look, it’s nothing to be ashamed of; it happens, and I think I know why.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “A little something called male ego.”

  Derek looks puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  Derek listens carefully as Kevin explains to him that he most likely feels inadequate due to the fact that his wife is supporting the two of them while he goes to school.

  “You really think that’s it?”

  “Sure. Once you graduate and start working, you’ll be good as new.”

  “I’ve got a few years to go before I graduate. What do I do in the meantime?”

  Shayla’s high-pitched voice echoes from upstairs. “Kevin, are you two going to be down there all night?”

  “We’ll be up in a minute, sweetheart!”

  Derek shakes his head. “I have to ask, man, doesn’t her voice get on your nerves?”

  Kevin chuckles. “Sometimes, but I love her, squeaky voice and all. Plus she gives great head. Now listen. What you have to do is get freaky.”

  “Freaky? You mean, like sex in a closet?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not just where you do it, it’s how you do it. Let me give you a few suggestions.”

  Kevin spends the next few minutes giving his friend some ideas on how to solve his intimacy problem. Then Derek goes home to his wife, and Kevin stops in the kitchen to get a jar of honey before heading upstairs to his own wife.

  • • •

  The next morning, Shayla is in the lobby of the office building, waiting nervously for Tracy to arrive. A short while later, Tracy arrives and gives her friend a curious look.

  “Okay, Shayla, why did I have to take the bus to work?”

  “Sorry, I had an errand to run. Your eyes are red; have you been crying?”

  Tracy answers reluctantly. “Yeah.”

  Shayla is looking around, not listening to her friend. “That’s great.”

  “Shayla, are you listening?”

  “I’m sorry, I mean, why were you crying?”

  “Derek and I had a terrible fight last night. When I woke up this morning, he was gone.” Shayla is still looking around nervously. “Shayla, what is going on?”

  “Hmm? Oh, Tracy, you need to fix your m
akeup.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah, girl; you look a hot mess.”

  Tracy starts to look through her purse for a small mirror, but Shayla has a better idea.

  “No, no, not here. Go in the restroom!”

  “Why?”

  “The lighting is better in there.”

  “Shayla, are you okay? You’re acting really strange.”

  Shayla escorts Tracy to the nearest ladies’ room, just to the right of the foyer.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Now, go on in there and make up.”

  “What?”

  “I mean . . . go fix your makeup.”

  Tracy looks curiously at Shayla before entering the ladies’ room. Once inside, Tracy is fumbling through her purse, and is surprised when she looks up and sees her husband. “Derek?”

  He walks toward her slowly, with his finger to his lips. “Shhhh, don’t say anything,” he whispers.

  Their lips meet, and his tongue explores the back of her throat. He quickly removes her skirt and blouse. She is totally submissive as he unhooks her bra and removes her panties. He leads her over to the sinks where he’s placed a container of chocolate-flavored massage lotion. He begins at her shoulders, slowly pouring it on and watching it glide down her naked body. He starts licking the lotion off her plump, cupcake-shaped breasts while it drips down her smooth, brown body. His tongue teases her nipples and they become puffy and hard, while he sucks the sweet syrup off them. He drops to his knees and uses his tongue to catch some of the lotion dripping down her chest. He holds it there, then slides the tip of his tongue inside her pussy. The lotion begins to heat up and the warm sensation causes her to tingle all over. While swirling his tongue around inside her pussy, his finger roams between her cheeks and finds her asshole. She clenches at first, then relaxes as his finger ventures inside.

  “Oh, Derek,” she whispers. Then he rises and pours some of the lotion all over his bulging hard dick and invites her to taste it. She drops to her knees and wraps her lips around his pulsating dick head and slowly takes more of his dick inside her mouth, tasting that warm, sweet chocolate, hungrily sucking it off his thick, brown dick. She starts rubbing his balls, and his dick begins throbbing inside her mouth. She grabs it and her hand glides up and down his shaft, stroking it firmly. She eyes his thick, hard, wet dick and rubs her pussy, aching to have it inside her. She turns and bends over the counter, inviting him to take her from behind. She is overjoyed to feel his warm, hard dick slide between her soft pussy lips and his body pressed tightly against her pulsing wet clit.

  Meanwhile, Shayla is standing guard outside the restroom door, when an older white lady tries to enter.

  “I’m sorry, this one is out of order at the moment.”

  The lady looks confused.

  “Out of order?”

  “Yeah, there’s a man at work in there.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  Shayla thinks quickly. “Right now, he’s laying some pipe.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  Satisfied with her answer, the lady walks away and Shayla exhales. Then she takes out her cell phone, turns on the video recorder, and peeks inside the restroom. Derek pours the rest of the lotion down Tracy’s back. He leans over and his tongue hugs the contour of her back. He feels her round, soft booty and rubs the lotion all over her ass, then he begins to slap her ass firmly, listening to the sound echo throughout the restroom. He starts pumping his dick in harder and faster, his balls smacking up against her.

  He tells her that he wants to cum on her ass, and she says, “Go ahead!”

  His dick is glistening with her pussy juice as he slides it out and, seconds later, he shoots his baby gravy all over her booty, making a hot, sticky mess. Tracy reaches back and rubs his warm cum, mixing it in with the lotion. She brings her fingers up to her lips, sliding two fingers in her mouth, to taste the creamy mixture. They both try to catch their breath and slow their racing heartbeats.

  Derek slaps her booty one last time and leans forward to whisper in her ear, “Have a nice day, baby.”

  The Siren

  Eva Hore

  We were taping auditions for the lead role in a new pornographic movie. I was tired of analyzing all the different body types, positions, and attributes. The director was searching for a new face, body, and that element that shines through when you’re filming.

  We’d been at it since early morning and now it was nearing eight at night. It was time to call it a day. I was exhausted and so were the rest of the crew; that was, until this sultry black siren, nearly six feet tall, glided into the room. The air was charged with testosterone as every man became aware of her presence.

  “Hope I’m not too late,” she purred.

  Oh, God, her voice. It was like liquid, falling off her tongue to spill its way around the room. Every eye was on her. John, the director, seemed to have lost his ability to speak. He was always in control, and this was the only time I’d ever seen him react this way. He was speechless.

  Finally, he found his voice. “Ah, yes, name, please.”

  “My real name or my stage name, darling?” she asked, advancing on him like a predator about to devour its prey.

  He actually stepped back a fraction as she approached. She towered over him. He stood there, potbellied, balding, his mouth open.

  “Delight. It’s both my stage and real name. I have nothing to hide and I’m proud of who I am,” she said.

  “I’m sure you are,” John said, and then with more assertiveness, “perhaps you’d like to show us your stuff.”

  Show us your stuff. Couldn’t he have thought of something more professional to say? He sat on his director’s chair and I began to roll the film. To say she knew how to work the cameras was an understatement. She was born for it.

  She began by shaking out her thick black hair. It fluffed up around her face, softening her already beautiful features. It was as though I had a dimmer on my lens—everything else around her just faded out.

  Then she was kicking off her shoes and peeling out of her skin-tight leather trousers. They were bright yellow and as she inched them over her gorgeous ebony backside I saw she was wearing a matching G-string. She kicked the trousers off her feet, licked her lips, and smiled at me.

  Giggling, she turned around, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and peered coquettishly through her dark black lashes at the camera. Her smoky eyes bored into mine as she pointed that sexy butt straight at me, bending over to run her hands slowly up from her ankles to her hips. She turned; her hands skimming over her flat, taut stomach before she played with the front of the G-string, pulling it down a fraction as though beckoning us to take a peek.

  Man, was she hot!

  Her shirt was also skin-tight and yellow, her huge breasts practically spilling out, her cleavage straining against the buttons as they threatened to burst forth. Her white painted fingernails toyed with each button before unfastening them. The whole time she didn’t take her eyes off the camera, licking her top lip with the tip of her pointy wet tongue. Man, did she have sex appeal. No one in the room spoke; we were frightened we’d break the spell.

  Finally, opening the shirt, she flashed her breasts at us, wiggling them before closing the shirt again. She teased us for a while before she slipped it off her shoulders and allowed it to rest at her elbows. With her arms pulled slightly back, her melon-like breasts jutted forward, her dark nipples only just visible under the lace bra as she paraded around the room.

  Dropping the shirt to the floor, she sashayed away from me. This beautiful goddess sauntered to the doorway. She turned, flicked her hair back, and then grabbed hold of the door jamb. With her honey-toned legs spread, she lowered her body until her pussy was nearly on the floor. What flexibility. Up and down she rode the frame, letting go with one hand to suck on her middle finger.

  With her red lips pouting, she trailed that finger down her neck, over her voluptuous breasts, and into her bra. She let out a soft moan as she
pinched her own nipple before continuing on to her G-string, where she taunted us further by slipping her hand in to cup her own pussy.

  “Hmm, very nice,” she breathed, nostrils flaring as though aware of the fragrance of her scent. “Very nice.”

  I caught myself holding my breath as my own pussy began to throb. She was walking toward me now, coming closer and closer. I zoomed in on her amazing breasts.

  “You want to see some pussy, hmm? Or what about these gorgeous titties?”

  I was speechless; we all were.

  “Well, pussy or titties? Can’t make up your mind? I’ll decide for you,” she purred.

  Staring hard at the camera as though staring straight into my soul, she unclipped her bra and discarded it. I held my breath, my face flushing. Her huge breasts swayed, enjoying their freedom. Dark brown nipples beckoned me. My mouth opened and my tongue searched like a snake seeking warmth, longing to latch on to one and suck it into my mouth.

  She pushed her biceps together, her cleavage nearly reaching her chin. Enjoying her own massaging, she lifted her breasts into her palms, weighing them as if each pound of flesh made them more appealing. She lifted one up toward her mouth, the nipple rigid as her tongue flickered over it.

  “You want to taste it, too? Want to bury your head in here?” She indicated the space between her breasts. “Or are you more interested in what I’ve got down there?” she asked.

  I had to lower the camera, follow her as she bent her head forward seductively, slipping her fingers into the sides of her G-string. Everyone gasped as she tore the flimsy material off and licked at the crotch, staring at me mischievously with a slight smile on her lips.