Best Black Women's Erotica Page 2

  From the central casting office in my mind emerged an impeccable male specimen zealous and eager to service my every physical need. His name was unknown, but his face and body were quite familiar to me. He was a sexy musician and my passionate costar, and within seconds I was transported onto the set of my long-running erotic fantasy.

  It is late by the time I arrive at the club. The crowd has thinned considerably and only a few diehards—those unwilling to relinquish the night to sleep—remain.

  I walk into the room, feeling quite horny, all in anticipation of being near him. The band is playing a jazzy version of Jon Lucien’s “Sweet Control” and the seductive pull of the music heightens my desire. I pause before taking my seat to enjoy the splendor of him in his element. I watch closely, mesmerized by his presence. Everything about him reeks sensuality. The way he and his bass stand together like a loving couple, his arms draped possessively around her womanly curves. The way he gently holds the instrument upright, stroking her long slender neck with reverence and love—pulling from her belly the exact sound he desires and demands. The way his foot keeps perfect time to the music, gently twisting and turning his leg in and out, causing his tight thigh muscle to flex seductively through his trousers. The way his face contorts with both happiness and pain, giving the impression of orgasmic pleasure as the music consumes him. The sights and sounds of him continue to add layers to my desire and I feel my breasts begin to swell and my nipples grow longer as they strain against my dress in search of his mouth.

  I take my seat in a darkened corner, where I have an unobstructed view of him. I close my eyes and let the music caress my body. It breezes over my skin like a sexy whisper, making my skin tingle and my clitoris engorge. I want to see the object of my desire. My eyes are drawn to the erect tip of his tongue penetrating the corner of his full lips. I watch him, lost in his performance, but can no longer hear. My brain is consumed with the image of him licking my clit with his incredibly talented tongue. I am getting so hot the faucets of my pussy are opening up and I can feel my juices begin to flow. I cross my legs and slowly clench the muscles of my vagina tight, enjoying the shift of pressure on my clit. As I continue to imagine him eating me, I can feel the wetness pooling in my panties. For an instant I wonder if anyone else can smell the scent of sex as it rises from my seat. My question is answered as the aroma seemingly wafts under his nose. He looks in my eyes and the intensity of his gaze, even for those few seconds, makes me melt.

  I can no longer stand the absence of his touch. My pussy is about to explode. In search of relief, I slip my hand under the table and begin to finger myself through the thin silk of my dress. I close my eyes again as I masturbate, feeling my clit grow deliciously tighter and tighter. I open my eyes to make sure I am not being watched. I glance around the room. It is nearly deserted and those remaining have not noticed me. The band is playing a new song now, but I don’t know what it is. I am too wrapped up in the thought of being wrapped up in him. Unconsciously I push my pelvis forward in search of his dick. I want to feel him inside me. I pull my panties to the side and begin to fuck myself with two fingers. The thought of him penetrating me, gliding in and out of my wet pussy, is driving me wild. I must keep myself from squirming too much in my seat as I get closer and closer to orgasm. I am glad the music is loud enough to mask the soft groans that escape my mouth. Oh shit, I’m coming. The contractions around my fingers are so powerful—I can only hope that I look like I’m enjoying the music and nothing more. I open my eyes to find him watching me. He subtly wets his lips and moves his bass slightly to the side. I can see the outline of his erection through his pants. As our eyes lock in an arousing gaze, I lift my hand from between my legs and gently lick the remaining juices from my drenched fingers…

  Off in the distance, the sound of an appreciative voice saying “Oh, shit” interrupted my fantasy and forced my eyes open. I quickly sat up and glanced around, but as far as I could see, the beach was still empty. Convinced I had simply heard my own thoughts, I stretched my body from fingers to feet, savoring the delicious sensations as my heartbeat and breath returned to normal. If I smoked, I would have lit up a cigarette; instead I opted for a quick nap.

  When I awoke, feeling refreshed and momentarily satisfied, it was after three o’clock. I quickly got dressed, packed my bag, and decided to walk the mile or so from the villa back to the Marriott. The afternoon sun was bright and strong. I reached for my sunglasses only to find them missing. I stopped and rummaged through my tote, but still came up empty-handed. Damn—that was the second pair I’d lost in six months.

  By the time I got back to my room I was starving and still horny. Sex-lite will do that to you. It’s like being on a low-carbohydrate diet and eating a bagel. You scoop out the good, doughy part and eat the crusty shell. While your stomach thinks it’s getting bread, your palate is only partially fulfilled. The vagina, just like the mouth, knows the difference between gourmet sex and the diet plate.

  I finished documenting the Polaroids and jotted down more notes before taking my second shower of the day. I slid into a slinky orange sundress and a pair of silver high-heel sandals. After adding a generous spritz of my favorite Issey Miyake cologne, I headed downstairs to the hotel restaurant for an early dinner.

  I approached the gentleman at the podium and requested a table for one. I followed him through the restaurant, happily acknowledging the appreciative eyes turning in my direction.

  As I passed his table, one particularly fine brother with a bald head laid a smile on me that could only be described as sunshine personified. I grinned back, making friendly eye contact, but kept on walking when I noticed a woman’s handbag next to the plate across from him.

  Sitting two tables away was another hot-looking brother, wearing dreadlocks and funky square black frames, eating alone while deeply engrossed in the latest Easy Rawlins adventure. As I passed him my perfume must have tapped him on the shoulder because out of the corner of my eye I noticed his attention turn from his moving tale to mine.

  Go Pia, go Pia I sang silently, enjoying the mini whirl of attention. The host led me to a small table on the perimeter of the room. He pulled the table out as I slid gracefully onto the upholstered bench. Before departing, he handed me a menu and introduced me to my waiter, Duane. Duane took my drink order and left me to peruse the menu. Feeling eyes on me, I looked up and saw an attractive white gentleman smiling in my direction. I smiled back and he raised his wineglass in a silent toast. Apparently my mojo was in overdrive.

  Duane returned shortly with my Cosmopolitan and a glass of champagne.

  “I didn’t order this,” I informed him, pointing to the flute.

  “A gentleman asked that this be sent to you with his compliments.”

  “Which gentleman?”

  “I’m sorry, miss. I don’t know. His instructions were left at the host station, along with this,” he said, handing me a folded cocktail napkin addressed to “The Beautiful Lady in Orange.”

  I looked past the white man and saw that both brothers were gone, though the woman with the handbag at the bald man’s table was back, sipping her coffee. “Thanks,” I said, taking the note. I quickly placed my dinner order and following Duane’s departure, unfolded the napkin.

  Good evening, Beautiful Lady,

  First, I must say that you really are a very sensuous woman. I truly enjoyed being with you today, even though you didn’t know I was there. After seeing you on the beach, I’ve had nothing but erotic thoughts of you. I’m living in a dream world this afternoon full of fantasies of you and me and the things that we could do together.

  Fantasy lovers can be so stimulating. Don’t you agree? If the idea of a sexy mind-job appeals to you, and you’re interested in a little anonymous pleasure by phone, call me this evening in room 420. I will be waiting patiently to hear your voice and tell you how I made love to you today. Don’t be frightened, beautiful lady, I only want to whisper naughty things in your ear. I want you as wet as I am hard.<
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  I refolded the napkin and resisted the urge to mop my hot and embarrassed face with it. The humiliation of being caught masturbating by a complete stranger caused me to down the champagne in one desperate gulp. I chased the bubbles down with a healthy swig of my vodka cocktail. By the time Duane returned with my dinner I had lost my appetite but had gained a nice little buzz—and the realization that while getting caught with my pants down was indeed humiliating, it felt hell of sexy too.

  They say words beg for reality. Well, I am here to tell you that no truer statement has ever been made. As I strolled through the lobby trying to hide my flushed and flustered state behind a calm and confident stride, I could feel my embarrassment dissipate. Rising up in its place was a defiant cry from a unified body demanding immediate sexual gratification.

  I pushed the button to call the elevator, praying that it would be empty for my ride up to the tenth floor. Gratefully alone in the lift, I again unfolded the napkin and reread the deliciously disturbing words, concentrating on the line “if you’re interested in a little anonymous pleasure by phone, call me.”

  Pleasure by phone? Who did he think I was, Girl Six? Some cheap dial-a-ho? I thought in a lame attempt to temper my lust with outraged logic. Why would I want to have phone sex with someone I’ve never laid eyes on?

  But he’s had his eyes all over you and you love it, the little slut on my shoulder shouted. Call him. You know you want to.

  According to the number he’d given me, Mr. Help Yourself to a Peek was a hotel guest. On a long shot, I called the operator and asked for the name of the person in room 420. But, just as I knew she would, she informed me that my request was against hotel policy.

  Just call him, the voice inside demanded.

  What if this guy is crazy or some sick degenerate? I already know that he’s a voyeuristic peeping tom. A peeping tom who makes your panties wet.

  True that, I concurred silently, as I headed to the minibar. I needed another strong dose of liquid courage because I was curious and horny—a combustible combination that left me no choice but to make that call.

  Guzzling down my Finlandia vodka and tonic, I closed the drapes, turned off the lights, went straight to the bed, and sat down. I took a few seconds to listen to the waves crash on the beach and enjoy my fuzzy head before picking up the phone and dialing 0420. Before it rang, I hung up. What the hell was I thinking?

  Before I came up with a reply my fingers began dialing again.

  “Hello there,” answered a deep and smoky voice. Those two simple words, spoken in a deep buttery timbre that was soothing and seductive, melted over my body and left me a drunk, horny, gooey mess. Suddenly, I could not wait for this man to wrap his words around my body.

  “I got your note,” I said softly.

  “I’m glad you called.”

  “Do I know you? Have we met?”

  “We’ve never met, but somehow it feels as if we’re already lovers.”

  I guess you just delve right in, I thought, wondering if there were any rules to the phone-sex game. The only one that mattered to me was that we remained completely anonymous.

  “Yes, I guess you would,” I admitted, embarrassment tingeing my voice.

  “Please don’t be embarrassed. Women like you turn me on.”

  “Women like what?”

  “Sensual, independent, strong women.”

  “And how can you tell so much about me?” I asked, intrigued that he had, even if he was only bullshitting, read me pretty damn accurately.

  “Actions do speak louder than words,” the amazing voice informed me. “It’s obvious that you’re a woman who’s aware of her body and knows what she likes. A woman who’s not afraid to touch herself.”

  “You know, this is very unfair,” I said coyly as I began to get my flirt on. “You’ve seen me in one of my, shall we say, most intimate moments. You know how I look, but I know nothing about you. Like what’s your name?”

  “Call me whatever you’d like. I am whoever you want me to be. I look the way you want me to look, dress the way you want me to dress, live the way you want me to live. I’m the perfect man—your dream lover, your ultimate partner.”

  “Okay, fair enough. I’ll call you Fin,” I announced, eyeing the empty vodka bottles on the bed. “But you must tell me something about yourself. What are some of your favorite things?”

  “My favorite things…let’s see… Kissing is definitely on the top of my list. I love to play with lips, teeth, and tongue. And I’m also very fond of giving tongue massages,” the sexy voice revealed.

  Oh shit, I thought. This man…his voice…I was definitely intrigued, undeniably hot, and getting more and more comfortable with the idea of mind-fucking this erotic stranger.

  “And I am quite capable of putting my tongue anywhere.”

  “Anywhere?” I asked, the Finlandia making me bold.

  “Anywhere, baby. Is that what you’d like? For me to give you a tongue bath? For me to put my tongue in places you always wanted one to go and in some you thought it shouldn’t?”

  “Yes,” I agreed and begged at the same time. I swear I could feel his warm breath coming through the phone and fondling my ears and neck.

  “Well, then you’re going to have to take off your panties. Will you do that for me?”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice dropping to a faint hush. I cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear and slid off my thong. I also slipped out of my dress and stretched out on the bed, cradling the receiver to my face like a lover’s hand.

  “Are they off?”

  “Yes, everything is.”

  “Ooh. Now that’s a beautiful visual. Just thinking about you naked is getting me so aroused. If you could see me now, you’d know just how much.”

  “I can see.”

  “I’m there with you?”

  “Yes. You’re here and I can feel your hands on my body. They’re soft and strong.”

  “How am I touching you?” he asked.

  “With light, feathery caresses,” I whispered as I spread my legs open.

  “I want to play with your magnificent breasts and feel your nipples as hard as my dick is right now. Would you like that?”

  “Yes.”

  This stranger’s voice was seductive and hypnotic and I felt myself slipping into a deep sensual stupor. He was filling my head with erotic reveries and by the power of suggestion I found myself touching my breasts. I bit my lower lip as my hands became his, stroking my thighs, belly, arms, and breasts, pinching and rolling my stiff nipples between his fingers.

  “You have an amazing body. I am so hard now that I have to loosen my pants so I can breathe.”

  “Then take them off,” I suggested. I hung on while he removed his clothes, trying to imagine what he looked like. If his voice was any indication, the boy was fine.

  “Oh yes, that’s much better. Now I can feel the smooth length of your body pressed up against mine,” he said.

  “I can feel you too. You’re very hard.”

  “All for you, baby. I’m sucking on your nipples and licking the valley between your breasts until it’s wet and shiny. Now I’m rubbing myself between them. Do you like that?”

  “Yes,” I replied as my hand slipped down between my thighs.

  “Tell me what you feel.”

  “Hmm. I feel your shaft sliding between my breasts. I’m squeezing them closer so I can feel every ridge of your penis as it moves up and down my chest.”

  “Should I move fast or slow?”

  “Slow, Fin. Move real slow so I can catch you in my mouth. Can you feel me flicking my tongue around your tip?” I asked, amazed by how much I was getting into this.

  “I can feel it, baby, and it feels good,” Fin replied, his breath getting slower and his voice huskier. It was obvious that he was just as turned on by our encounter as I was. His desire was fueling my bravado.

  “Hmm, you’re so hard, Fin. My pussy is getting so wet and juicy just thinking about it,” I told hi
m as I massaged the fleshy mound of my pubis with slow, languid circular motions.

  “I know, baby. I can smell you. Your love smells sweet and briny, just like seawater and sunshine. My mouth is watering for your beautiful pussy.”

  “Hmm. Would you like to taste me?” I asked, feeling the torturous ecstasy of an engorged clitoris.

  “Yes, I want to eat you.”

  “And I want you too—but first I want to take you in my mouth. Can you feel the wet warmth surround your shaft as I suck you?”

  “Ooh. God, yes. Yeah, baby. My dick is like a rod moving between your soft, cushiony lips.”

  “What should I do now?” I ask, sending slight smacking and sucking noises though the phone.

  “Play with my balls.”

  “I’m licking them now. Does that feel good, or would you rather I suck them?”

  “Tickle them with your hair and suck my dick,” he moaned.

  “Fast or slow?”

  “Fast and slow. Tease me, baby. Make me crazy like you did this afternoon.”

  “I’m sucking you fast right now. My head is hanging over your lap and my hair is brushing your belly. I can feel you get longer and harder in my mouth.”

  “Mmm…”

  “Now I’m slowly running my tongue around the ridge at the head of your dick. Do you like that?” I asked, feeling breathlessly brazen.

  I could hear him masturbating. His soft moans and gentle grunts were an indication of his approaching orgasm. His desire was making me so hot and I wanted to feel him inside me. I parted my labia and gently penetrated the soft fleshy pulp of my vagina with my fingers.