Zane's Busy Bodies: Chocolate Flava 4 (26 page)

“Really?” he spoke dryly. “Haven’t heard that in a while.”

“I know,” she admitted. “What you doing?”

“Paperwork. What about you?”

“Just out. Had to pick up a few things. You in tonight?”

“For the most part, yes, but I’m working late.”

“Really? Why?”

“Just a lot of work.” A pregnant pause filled the air. “I gotta go.” He hung up the phone.

She could tell he was fed up and she couldn’t let things get any worse than they were. She bopped inside the house with a clear plan and all of her purchases in tow. After taking a shower, Dasia slid into the new navy push-up bra and matching high-cut bikinis she’d bought from Victoria’s Secret. Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t believe what she saw. Although a little curvier, her body wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it was. Yes, she had a few stretch marks here and there, and she wasn’t as toned as she was before, but she still looked good.

She dressed in a mid-thigh–length, brown plaid skirt and tan silk blouse. The color contrast made her smile as it accentuated her skin color. Putting on her makeup, she looked in the mirror and realized that the woman who stood before her was someone she missed. That same person was still a mom but she was also still a wife, and was ready to be one again. Stepping into her stilettos, she went to reclaim her man.

•  •  •

“Hi. I’m looking for officer Stephen Anderson,” Dasia said, walking into the precinct.

“What business do you have with him?” a female officer asked, glaring at her.

“The business a wife would have with her husband,” Dasia told her, daring her to get crazy.

The woman pointed toward his office and Dasia walked ahead.

Standing at his door, she watched her husband dutifully at work. He looked so handsome. Quietly, she stepped into the small room and closed the door.

“Hey, you,” she purred.

He looked up. “Whoa!” Stephen was shocked.

Turning toward the door, Dasia locked it and then looked back at her husband.

“What’s all this?” He pointed.

“Your wife, baby, and I want you so bad.”

Dasia unbuttoned her blouse as she walked toward him, and her breasts stood firm and full. Seeing his enormous erection, Dasia raised her skirt and straddled him. She put her hands on his face and whispered, “I’ve missed you.”

Just then, the two began to kiss. First gently, and then with more passion. Stephen’s hands palmed his wife’s basketball-sized
ass, kneading one cheek, then the other, then both at the same time.

Removing her blouse, she reached behind her and unbuttoned her bra. Her breasts, still full with milk, stood firm and hard. Her nipples saluted him. Stephen began to suck and hum as the sweet fluid ran into his mouth. Now he knew why his sons were always attached to her.

“Damn, this is so good.” He gulped heartily and then moved to the other titty so it wouldn’t feel neglected. Massaging her breasts, he didn’t care that his hands were covered with milk. She was his wife and he loved it.

Doing something she used to do before having children, Dasia reached toward her own breasts and began sucking.

“Aw shit, that’s what’s up!” Stephen drawled and then shook his head, watching his wife. “Um . . . um . . . um . . .”

While they took turns with her titties, Dasia began to grind her crotch against his dick. Her pussy was wet and she needed it filled. Getting up off him with her skirt still around her waist, she noticed she had left a pussy stain on his lap, but she didn’t care. She unzipped his BDUs, stuck her hand inside, and pulled out her husband’s assault weapon. It was hard, hot, heavy, thumping, and waiting for her. She knelt down in front of him and, from his angle, all he could see were big-ass titties and a fat pussy he was dying to get in. As if she were starving, Dasia took Stephen’s dick and made it disappear inside her hot, wet mouth. She knew how her husband liked to have his dick sucked and she liked to do it. Up and down, light, hard, rough, and commanding. She was ravaging his dick. The juices in her mouth began to run down his thick dick and she slurped them up. She liked sloppy oral sex and he loved it. Stephen continued to watch as she sucked, jacked, licked, hummed, and deep-throated him. Feeling his back arch,
she realized that she was doing her job. Sucking harder, stronger, and pumping him, her mouth became even wetter and so did his dick. Stephen began to fuck her face and she gagged. Each time she gagged, she took his dick out of her mouth, spat on it, and put it back in to take more.

“Give it to me real nasty, baby,” Stephen demanded, and that she did.

He reached down and grabbed one of her titties, pulling it hard and pinching her nipples the way she liked. Despite the wetness, she didn’t stop him.

“Do that again. That feels so good,” she urged with a mouth full of dick.

Just when he was about to, Stephen became rigid. “Babe, I’m about to—”

Dasia knew what she was doing but didn’t move. Her wet mouth went farther down on his dick and Stephen felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—the back of her throat.

“Oh, shit!” he grunted. “Oh . . . god . . . damn . . . shit . . . girl!” Stephen’s body began to jerk. Between Dasia’s mouth and hand action, she worked to help bring up the milky white nut that he wanted to give her so badly. Always loving how he tasted in her mouth, Dasia gulped the backed-up love he’d had inside him. Even though some ran from her mouth, she used her fingers to ease it back in.

After his orgasm, Stephen wasn’t through. The thought of sex with his wife always brought up an instant erection. Even after cumming, he was ready to go again. He helped her up off her knees and placed her on her back on his desk. Expertly, he shoved her knees toward her shoulders and slid her bikinis to the side to get a look at her fat, hot, cream-centered pussy. It was
trimmed neatly with an X that marked the spot. Stephen became aggressive and bit on his wife’s titty, hard, while he ran the tip of his dick up and down her center. Pushing for a moment at anything that would give way, he searched for an opening and finally found it. Dasia’s pussy welcomed him into the warm, deep wetness of her mocha tsunami.

“Baby, this shit is so tight. Goddamn, girl!” He stroked her deeper, then long and steady. “You’re so wet. I love this shit!”

Opening her legs, Dasia wanted more and commanded, “Deeper.”

Stephen grabbed her and pulled her toward the edge of the desk, pushing her back on his files, her knees at her chin. He did as his wife asked, and went deeper. Stephen’s dick was lodged in his wife’s stomach and jackhammered her pussy, giving her pleasured pain.

The two found a hard fuck rhythm and rode it like he was headed off on a tour with the navy reserves. She needed his reserves in her pussy. Stephen dug into the deepest part of her ocean and Dasia moaned loudly. The deeper he went, the louder she became. He didn’t care who heard them. This was a long time coming. He was pounding so hard, knocking the bottom out of her pussy, that he was surprised she was taking his dick as hard as he gave it. He knew she could do it, but there was just something different about it this time. Her pussy craved his dick and she told him with each stroke. He hit it faster and harder, then removed it from its home and rammed it back into her repeatedly. The sound of their fuck juices was in the air. Stephen continued to fuck his wife for the next fifteen minutes, and nearing the sixteenth minute, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her body shook. She grabbed his shoulders and held on
to his muscular body as she came all over his dick. Stephen felt a warm gush of sticky wetness cover his dick, and her hard pussy contractions forced him to erupt.

“Damn, baby,” Stephen called out, thrusting into her deeper, squeezing out another round of reserves deep inside of her to the point of no return.

Afterward, he lay atop her on his desk. She kept her legs wrapped around his waist, not wanting to break their connection. Their breathing was still accelerated. They heard a commotion in the main area of the precinct and Stephen moved his head.

“Damnit!” he exclaimed, and reluctantly took himself out of his wife.

She got up off the desk and readjusted her clothing. With a smile on each of their faces, they kissed good-bye and Stephen promised that he’d be home soon.

•  •  •

Two months later, Dasia sat behind the microphone at WSB-TV and smiled into the camera, delivering Atlanta’s local news. On the set, Stephen watched her and smiled. After she was done, they would leave to pick up the kids from daycare and drop them off at her mother’s for the weekend. He’d made reservations for a weekend getaway at Chateau Elan and they were both looking forward to it. Unfortunately, it took another woman’s misfortune for Dasia to appreciate what she had, but Stephen finally understood how Dasia felt and realized how important communication was. He promised that she’d always know he wanted her, despite what unexpected turns life may throw at them.

Michelle Janine Robinson

It was hard to believe that either of them had any fluids left. After meeting at a bar the night before, they had talked, flirted, and drank martinis until they decided that the finger fuck he was pleasuring her with behind the bar might actually get them thrown out; especially when she realized her cum juice had found its way to the barstool on which she sat. Not only could she feel it, but she could smell it . . . and so could he.

They checked into a nearby hotel and fucked feverishly until dawn. Two hours later he was back for more. Even though he was half asleep, his hard cock was insistently poking at her thigh and once again she was lubricated by his fiery intentions. She moaned at the prospect of his cock once again being buried deep inside her and reached down and grabbed a handful, insistent that he fuck her immediately.

“Hmmm baby, I love a woman that takes control,” he murmured with the thickness of sleep still in his voice.

Without a moment of even the slightest foreplay, he rolled over and entered her pussy. There was no positioning of bodies, no search for just the right position, nor the building of momentum. His cock was like a motorized drill, spreading her open and making her wet beyond belief.

He was fucking her so hard, she was sure her head would
have a knot on it the size of an orange if it kept striking the headboard the way that it was.

Her pussy expanded and contracted, gripping tightly to his cock, reluctant to let it go, even though she was sure to be late for work.

“Oh, baby. This is too fucking good. You know I have to go to work. Stop, baby, please. It’s just
too
good.”

“I know, baby. I know. It’s good to me, too. And, after all these years, your pussy is still as wet and tight as when we first met. This is my pussy!”

“Yes, baby,” she said breathlessly. “Your pussy . . . this is your pu . . . pu . . . pussy. Oh, baby. I’m gonna . . . I’m gonna . . . I’m gonna cum!”

She convulsed beneath him as her orgasm rocked her deep.

“Here it comes, baby. Take it! Take it!”

And, with that, his detonation was immediate.

“Ahhhhh . . .” he sighed. “God, that was good.”

She jumped up from the bed, took a quick shower, and made every effort to get to work on time.

“ ’Bye, baby,” she whispered, as she left him lying prone in bed. “You and that nasty cock of yours have now made me late for work. Maybe I’ll get fired, come back here, and we’ll lie in bed and fuck all night and all day. Would you like that?”

She had worn him out. He had barely enough strength to raise his head from the pillow and say good-bye.

•  •  •

“Flight 318 to London, now boarding at Gate 14.”

He sat in the airport, wound tighter than a drum and anxious to get away from it all. He was determined to enjoy this trip and leave his cares behind. Lately he had gotten into an awful rut.

Hers was the first face he saw upon boarding the craft. After seeing her, everything else around him paled in comparison.

Her smile would have welcomed him into her arms even if she were the ugliest woman on the face of the planet. Fortunately, she was not. She was unbelievably beautiful. But her smile . . . her smile was more than merely beautiful. Her smile was legendary. He was a man who seldom daydreamed but, at that moment, he was hard-pressed to relinquish the thought of what the combination of her silk sepia tones and his bold complexion might produce.

“Good afternoon,” she said.

“Good afternoon,” he responded, with a little
too
much bravado.

He couldn’t help himself. In her presence, he felt like a lovesick teenager.

He found his seat, placed his carry-on in the overhead compartment, and waited for the inevitable moment when he would be close to her once again; maybe even close enough to touch her.

“Uhm, did you see that hottie in row twelve? Suddenly I’m craving a tall, wet, steaming cup of hot chocolate,” Karen’s colleague Wendy said.

“Hands off, you she-devil. I saw him first.”

“Don’t worry about me. Georgie is sticking it to me on the regular; and girl, that shit is
good
!”

“Yuck. You’re sleeping with Captain Saneval. He’s gross. You know he’s married with children, right?”

“Shit yeah. I know, but we have an understanding.”

“Oh” was her only response.

Finally, she made her way over to row twelve.

“What would you like to drink this afternoon, sir?”

His eyes lingered longingly over her moist, freshly glossed lips. “A Coke, please.”

She left and returned a moment later with his drink. “Here you go, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Whether it was by accident or accidentally on purpose he wasn’t sure, but the tips of their fingers touched and he was immediately aroused. She might as well have touched his cock directly; he would have been no less hard if she had. His erection poked insistently at his gabardine slacks, eager to find itself safely ensconced between her lips. Either set of them would have sufficed.

In an attempt to distract himself during the lengthy eight-hour flight to the UK, he decided he would catch up on some reading. Even under her severely buttoned flight attendant’s uniform, he couldn’t help but be aware of her breasts straining against the fabric, her nipples erect—maybe from the air conditioning on the craft, or just maybe she wanted him, too, just maybe? There was such grace in her walk, yet that same grace was edged with the faintest hint of raw sexuality. He wanted her more than he wanted to breathe.