Zane's Z-Rated: Chocolate Flava 3 (5 page)

“Up the ass! I’m gonna fuck you up the ass!” he cried, his balls boiling with imminent release.

“Yes!” Vanessa hissed, blind to the man, full of his cock.

He tumbled over to the side, drawing his dripping pipe
with him. She rolled over onto her stomach, reaching back and smearing dripping pussy juice between her butt cheeks.

Leonard sucked humid air into his billowing lungs and mounted her again from behind. Sweat poured off his contorted face and onto the silken skin of her gracefully curved back. He prodded his bloated cockhead between her mounded buttocks, found her bumhole, and pressed in.

She instantly pushed her butt up and back, enveloping the enormous tip of his cock with her anus. He fell on top of her, his wrist-thick shaft delving deep into her chute.

“Motherfucker! You never had it like this before, huh, baby!?” he gritted into her ear, moving his hips up and down, cock back and forth in her ass. “You never had it so good, huh, bitch!?”

She bit into the pillow and pounded the mattress with her fists, the man reaming her chute with his giant cock, blowing her ass apart. The bed and her body bounced in rhythm to his frantic thrusts, her raw moans sounding even above the tortured creak of the bedsprings.

He slammed against her shuddering cheeks again and again, ruthlessly plundering her ass with his cock. “Fuck, baby!” he screamed. “You can’t take me no more! I’m gonna come!”

He spasmed. And his cock exploded in her bum, dousing her chute with heated semen.

She felt the searing spray of cum against her bowels five times; the man’s sawing, shooting cock filling her to bursting.

But she didn’t come herself.

They briefly lay together afterward, Leonard’s flaccid dong spooning between Vanessa’s legs.

“You think you got ‘room’ for me here?” He laughed, kissing
the soft skin of her long, slender neck. “Now that you know who I am?”

“Get out,” Vanessa responded, shocking the presumptuous little big man right down to his softened penis.

She still had a number of bathhouses, escort agencies, and strip clubs to visit that evening. Because for her, bigger wasn’t better; it was only the beginning.

Tenille Brown

Adrienne was nervous, although she knew she had no reason to be. It wasn’t like she had a problem eating alone, but eating alone hadn’t been the plan.

Adrienne was a woman who worked hard and liked treating herself and, tonight, she had planned on treating herself to an orgasm. That was nothing out of the ordinary, but how she had come to this point—well,
that
was new.

His name was Darrell and she met him on some website where you posted your pictures and talked all day about what you were doing, what you were wearing, and whatnot.

One day he flirted, and Adrienne bit.

Sure, the social networking thing was a new venture, and maybe she should have thought twice about it, but she had been careful.

There had been an entire two months of exchanges between them. Two months of chatting, emailing, and talking on the phone. Two months of sexting and sending each other naughty pictures. And eventually, there was phone sex at one in the morning.

Adrienne thought they were clear on what they both wanted.

She knew
she
was.

But now, sitting alone at the table in a far corner of the room, she tried to remember if anything she had said or done had led
Darrell to believe she wanted more; if she had somehow exuded desperation when she thought she was being coy and flirty.

Adrienne looked around the dimly lit restaurant. She was beyond restless. And the waiting was breaking down her confidence minute by minute.

Couples came in and went out as Adrienne sat there, waiting.

And maybe it was the waiting, the posing with her clasped hands propped beneath her chin, the polite smile and subsequent “no” every time the waiter came by to ask if she wanted to go ahead and order, that made her so aware of her solitude.

She’d given Darrell a thirty-minute grace period because, after all, she was a little early herself. But at nine-fifteen, a full hour and a half after their agreed meeting time, Adrienne was fed up.

She was looking around her and eyeing the door, trying to plot a graceful, yet subtle exit; something hard to do in a crowded restaurant, dimly lit or not.

And there was also the matter of the vacant room upstairs.

When she had gone up to take a look at it earlier, it was every bit what she had imagined it would be—a king-sized bed, a whirlpool in the center of the room with enough room for two, a balcony with a view of the city.

There was expensive champagne in a bucket full of ice with a flute on either side—her added touch. And lavender-scented spray on the crisp white sheets—her touch as well.

Now Adrienne cursed herself for having been so forward, for assuming things were going to go so well between her and Darrell that the natural progression would be to hightail it upstairs to a room rented for the night. Even though they had discussed it prior. They had talked thoroughly about how Adrienne would be
all kinds of naughty for him and Darrell would worship her body until she could no longer stand it.

Maybe Adrienne had scared him off.

Maybe Darrell really wasn’t used to a woman so forward, even though he had given her the impression that he was. He had said he liked a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go for it.

And go for it Adrienne did, dropping nearly three hundred dollars on a suite in a posh Chicago hotel.

The entire thing was making a mockery of her now.

Her hair was extra curly and flowing right past her shoulders; all the bullshit magazines she had been reading said the look was romantic. She wore a purple dress with thin straps that clung to her curvy body and stopped directly above her knees. High heels finished the look, strappy and colorful; the best accessory she was wearing and Darrell wouldn’t even get to see it.

I can stay here alone,
Adrienne thought.
I could order up a bottle of wine and a dirty pay-per-view movie. If nothing else, I could take care of myself and call it a night.

But the more she thought about it, the more pathetic it seemed; even more pathetic than meeting a man on the Internet and agreeing to meet him for dinner, drinks, and fucking.

What had she been thinking?

Fed up, Adrienne signaled the waiter and ordered a dirty martini, extra dry.

He nodded.

She drank it quickly and was thankful for the rush it gave her.

She pulled out her wallet to pay, but the young man held up his hand, shook his head, and pointed to the left where a dark-skinned man in a dark-gray suit was sitting at the bar.

Adrienne was prepared to nod her appreciation when he turned around in his chair, but she was taken aback by his familiar face.

Leroy!

And he was drinking his favorite drink; scotch and ginger ale.

He hadn’t changed a bit.

He came over, just as Adrienne knew he would.

“Waiting for someone?” Leroy asked, though Adrienne was pretty sure he had been watching her the entire time and had figured out her story from the way she sat tapping her foot and throwing quick glances at the door.

But Adrienne humored him and said, “I was.”

“No show?”

“Something came up,” Adrienne said quickly.

“I see,” Leroy said, though Adrienne was convinced he didn’t believe it.

He was straightening the collar of his jacket, smoothing his thick sideburns that Adrienne noticed had started to gray.

It looked good on him.

When had she seen him last?

Two years ago? Three?

Yes, it was shortly after the divorce; they were both still pissed about it all and avoided each other at all costs.

“So, you’re leaving?” Leroy asked.

Adrienne reached for her purse. “That’s right.”

“Not hungry anymore?”

She could smell his cologne. “Not really.”

And suddenly Adrienne was even more pissed that the whole thing had taken such a toll on her, that she actually had lost her appetite and was considering going home and sitting in front of the television with a bowl of ice cream on her lap.

So, just like that, Adrienne changed her mind.

“You know what? I think I will have a bite, after all.”

She set down her purse and picked up her menu while Leroy took the seat across from her.

Adrienne scanned the list of entrees. If Darrell had shown up, she would have ordered a salad, but this was Leroy. She had no reason to impress him, so she got what she wanted.

Chicken Marsala for her, stuffed flounder for him.

Halfway through the meal, Adrienne felt Leroy’s leg brush lightly against hers under the table.

Was he getting fresh with her?

She let it slide.

“You look good,” Leroy said, leaning back in his seat. His brown eyes were bright with sincerity.

Adrienne smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

“He sure missed out.”

“I appreciate that.”

It felt nice to relax, to stop caring whether her new hairstyle was still intact or her perfume had worn off.

It was nice to put her elbows on the table and answer texts and emails while she ate her chicken, and to burp without saying, “Excuse me.”

After all, it was just Leroy. They had been married eight years and he had seen her at her worst. And it was funny how some things with Leroy were still a natural reflex for her, like handing him a napkin and telling him he had crumbs in his beard. How she ordered water for him because he never seemed to remember that scotch wasn’t a good thing to chase your food with.

His food half-eaten, Leroy asked, “Was dinner all you had planned, or was there something else?”

He had that shit-eating grin on his face like he already knew the answer.

Adrienne didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “No, there was nothing else.”

Leroy looked her up and down then, from her come-fuck-me heels to her cleavage-baring fuck-me dress. He knew. He had to know.

Adrienne was serving pussy on a platter tonight and it was obvious.

“I’m merely saying, if there was something else on the agenda, like bowling or miniature golf, I’ve got some time on my hands.”

No, it had been neither, but she had intended to show her athletic ability tonight, and it was a shame that it wasn’t going to happen now.

The quick shifting of her eyes gave Adrienne away.

Leroy crossed his arms over his chest. “What? Were ya’ll going to his place or yours?”

“Fuck you, Leroy.”

“So, you were going to get a room?” Leroy was on a roll now.

“Fuck you, Leroy.”

Leroy leaned forward and whispered, “I could rent a room, you know, with a view.”

Adrienne sucked her teeth. “You’re too damn cheap for that. You forget I know you, Leroy.”

If Adrienne didn’t know better, she’d say that Leroy had planned the entire thing to make her look bad, but it was hard to believe that even he would stoop that low.

Adrienne dabbed at the corners of her mouth and threw the napkin on the table.

She had a choice; it was obvious. She could either take her ass
home and leave an angry message on Darrell’s voice mail, or she could go upstairs with Leroy.

She looked to her left where the revolving door spun slowly.

It would be a cliché to take him upstairs, to fuck him in the bed that she had anticipated fucking Darrell in … so …

She turned right.

She said, “I’m going home, Leroy, and I’m going to need a lift.”

• • •

Randy Crawford was playing on the car stereo. Leroy sang softly along to “Street Life.”

Adrienne looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, you’re a songbird now?”

“I’m a lot of things you never thought I was,” Leroy replied with a grin.

She let the words pass between them. She knew better than to dwell on any of it. After all, she had been married to this man.

And she didn’t dwell on Leroy’s hand reaching over now and then either, resting on her bare thigh and knee. Except she was getting warmer sitting next to him and she wasn’t sure why, and trying to be cool while discreetly adjusting herself on his leather seats proved to be quite difficult.

Adrienne pulled at her dress because the cocky motherfucker that Leroy was, he’d probably think she was trying to entice him.

“You okay over there?” he asked.

The question startled her.

“Yes, I’m just fine,” Adrienne said through gritted teeth.

“Thinking about your …
date
?”

Adrienne could feel Leroy’s eyes on her.

“No, Leroy, I’m not thinking about anybody.”

“Okay, okay. I was just checking on you. I do worry about you, Adrienne.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Oh, no doubt,” he said.

And there was Leroy’s hand again, and as if he was realizing it for the first time, this time he snatched it away.

“Damn, Adrienne. I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t trying to cross any lines. I was just driving and vibing, you know and …”