Zane's Z-Rated: Chocolate Flava 3

by Zane

  We checked into a cheap, dreary motel near the cornucopia of strip joints, eager for our weekend of fun and freedom. Juan left to get “supplies,” while Ed and I unpacked. The motel was a dump located on Victory Drive, with threadbare carpets, thin walls and drapes, and even thinner towels that felt as comfortable against your skin as twenty grit sandpaper. I would say it was clean, but the roaches would probably take offense. We were watching one of those pathetic seventies sitcoms when Juan abruptly returned. Grinning, he immediately began unbuttoning his shirt. Following Juan was a surprisingly beautiful black woman. I was caught completely off guard.

  She closed the door behind her. I watched intently as her breasts swayed and jiggled ever so delicately. Her eyes were downcast as if she was embarrassed. She followed Juan into the room. At the sight of us her eyes went wide and she gave a shrug of her shoulders and a tip of her head, as if to say, “Oh, well…” To me, it all said: bashful.

  Instantly I was captivated, and a little intimidated by both her age, which appeared to be almost thirty, and her luscious beauty. The woman—and she was a real woman, not a kid—had a pleasant round face with high cheekbones that gave it depth. She was tall, but still several inches shorter than my six feet, and I was struck by her very dark, coffee-brown complexion, which seemed at odds with her flowing, shiny curls of gorgeous shoulder-length hair. My palms were sweaty at the thought of getting them on her beautiful, perfectly proportioned breasts. Those breasts seemed to call to me with each sway and bounce. Her soft white cotton dress fit her form sensationally, hugging her upper body alluringly, accentuating the breadth of her torso before tapering down to her narrow waist, then loosely flowing over the graceful, but sweeping curve of her hips. My arms wanted to encircle that narrow waist, to lay my hand atop that scrumptious, perfectly developed ass, and then pull her body to mine. To press our chests and hips together; to meld into a single being; to feel her softness pressed against my hardness. To feel the slope and curve of her back as those glorious breasts press against my chest. She was perhaps the most beautiful black woman I had ever met. All of these thoughts vanished quickly with my growing anxiety at my impending moment.

  Still frantically undressing, Juan said, “Hey guys, I need the room for a while.”

  “Hey ya’ll.” She gave us a wave of her hand. “He and I have an … arrangement. If you guys want to make a similar arrangement, we’re talking about forty dollars. Apiece.”

  Until that moment, I had no idea she was a hooker. This intimidated me also. After all, she was a professional, while I was the most rank of amateurs. I was seventeen, remember, and a virgin.

  Ed and I both jumped to our feet. Ed was first out with his wallet. “Well, that sounds like a fair price to me.” He handed over the money. I was fast on his heels with two twenties.

  “Okay, now if you guys don’t mind waiting outside?” Juan groaned.

  We grabbed a beer each and left to wait on the balcony. We drank our beers, smoked, and waited our respective turns. I was actually very, very nervous. So I let Ed go before me.

  Having never been away from home for longer than a two-week summer camp, I was naïve. Ed, Juan, and I had decided to share a motel room on our first weekend pass. As a private in 1979, my take-home pay was about 287 dollars a month, so we decided to share the expense.

  Now, standing out on the balcony, I wished we weren’t sharing a room. I feverishly wished I had my own room. I wished desperately for privacy.

  Juan came out after twenty minutes or so and joined me for a beer and a smoke, while Ed went in for his turn “at bat.” When Ed came out, the girl was peeking out from behind the door and gave me a wave of her hand. “Okay, you’re next.”

  As I sat and bent over to untie my shoes, she dashed for the bed and promptly sat down. Strangely, she covered herself. Somewhat. Shy? Is all this for real, or just an act? Surely, a hooker would’ve gotten well beyond being shy?

  She was already naked. She leaned against the headboard and smoked, with one leg bent and raised on the mattress. Her arms were hooked around her knee, effectively concealing her breasts from my gaze. Her other foot was on the floor; her luscious leg leaned against the side of the mattress, concealing the elusive, mysterious opening to her center. I could see the top of the sparse, neatly shaven hair on her pubis, a very narrow strip about two inches wide. The remainder of her sacred region was as smooth as glass. This was the era when women were just starting to groom themselves that way. And what a Great Day it was!

  In an effort to hide my anxiety, I tried to make small talk. “What’s your name?”

  “Trisha.” She sounded surprised. “What’s yours?” She smiled at me, seemed genuinely glad for the conversation, and was suddenly more relaxed.

  “Rick.”

  For some reason, it all seemed very conspiratorial. Or perhaps it was an unintended intimacy to the moment, but we still spoke in whispers.

  “Hi, Rick. I’m happy to meet you.”

  She surprised me by putting her hand out; I shook it. It was then I was treated to my first glance at the bounty of her breasts. They were so perfectly proportioned, they were … mesmerizing. Oh, dear God. They were so beautiful, so large, so firm, so high … gravity defying, and capped with bright pink, nearly red nipples. I expected a shade darker than her very dark, brown complexion. Such a contrast.

  “Likewise, Trisha.” I did my best to sound relaxed. Once I was naked, I asked, “So where do we begin?”

  She gave me a wry grin and opened her legs slightly, patting the mattress between them. “Have a seat.”

  My eyes ravaged her body while I moved in. I was nervous beyond belief.

  She said to me, “You’re trembling. Are you all right?”

  I feebly replied, “Oh, yeah, I’m okay. I’m just … really nervous.”

  “Nervous? Why?”

  Still not ready to let my secret out, I replied, “I’m just … new to this …”

  “What are you saying? That you’ve never been with a hooker before?”

  “No, I haven’t. In fact, I’ve never been with any girl before.”

  “Really?” she asked incredulously. “Really? This is your first time? I’m going to get your cherry?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Yep, it’s all yours. For what it’s worth,” I said, as my knees shook.

  “Oh, my goodness. That’s worth a lot. Well, then, I have to make this extra special for you.”

  What could I say? After all, she was the professional.

  Her eyes suddenly became less guarded and while she chewed on her lower lip, I watched as her smile slowly grew into a beaming fountain of light. She turned to face me, leaning back, offering me her chest.

  My heart was pounding so loud, I thought for sure she could hear it. But my desire managed to override my anxiety. With my right hand, I took one of those glorious breasts. It filled my hand to overflowing. First contact! Oh, dear God … As my breathing became deeper, I began to gently squeeze her breast, quickly consumed by the fantastic twins. My face was only a foot away from them. I was amazed by the warmth of her moist skin and how easily my pale white fingers sank into her dark softness. I was surprised at just how long her nipples were and they were still growing. I reveled in her breasts, their heavenly weight, and the contrast of black and white as my fingers pressed into her flesh. I placed my left hand on her stomach and felt her breathe for a moment. Yep, she’s real.

  Trisha took my left hand and slowly moistened my fingertips with her tongue. Oh, dear God! How arousing. She slowly pushed my hand south, through her curls, down to her center. “Do you feel that, Rick? That little nub? That’s my clitoris. Just keep stroking it, like this …” she said, as she guided my fingers. She closed her eyes and embraced the sensation. Almost imperceptibly, she brought her hand to the half-hard root between my legs and stroked me. Gradually, while my organ grew in length, girth, and strength, I felt her clitoris swell to what felt like four or five times its original size. Soon, it was at
least a half-inch in length.

  Then after a minute, “A little faster,” she instructed me.

  Then, after another minute, “Now … stay gentle, now … a little harder … oh … oh … oh, that’s it …” she gasped.

  Her hips began to undulate against my fingertips. Could that be because of me? I kept my palm against that thin strip of hair, while her hips seemed to move independently of the rest of her. They swayed and turned, twisting and pressing against my fingers on my left hand. Her hands came up to her breasts; her fingers guided my right hand, showing me where she wanted more attention. Instructing me when and with what pressure she wanted me to squeeze, when and where to pinch, and how lightly or how firmly. When she opened her eyes again, I noticed there were gold flecks in her irises, which added depth to her face and an intensity to her smile. Her smooth, deep dark skin glowed. Her face was radiant. If the eyes really are the mirror to the soul … what does this say about her soul?

  In the warmth of that humid Georgia night, the temperature seemed to climb by ten degrees, as anxiety gave way to lust. Desire rose within me, consumed me, and filled the room to bursting capacity. Tiny beads of sweat began to form on the finest hairs of her skin between her breasts. I watched while the twins rose and fell with such delicate grace. She took a deep breath, expanding her diaphragm. They were so … breathtaking. Captivating. Her nipples seemed almost painfully hard now and her gorgeous body seemed to shimmer and shine with a fine sheen of sweat. My hands glided over her smooth, moist skin.

  “Do you like my tits?” she asked, almost breathless. I loved that she called them “tits,” the same way guys do.

  “They’re beautiful. Better than I would’ve ever imagined.”

  “They like you, too,” she said, arching her back slightly, firmly pressing her breast into my hand. Seductively she lowered a knee, opening her thighs, and closed her eyes. Her white teeth caught her succulent, red-painted lower lip. I could see the tip of her tongue, as she closed her eyes and slowly rolled her head from side to side. From shy to seductive? So alluring!

  When the breath caught in her throat, she paused while her hips seemed to pulse. Then she groaned softly and froze. Eventually, with my hands still in place, I felt her breathe again. Finally, she opened her eyes fully and said, “Let me do something for you. Here,” she said as she sat up and slid from under my hands.

  “Just lean back,” she guided me. I slid farther up the bed and took her place at the headboard as she lowered herself to the floor between my legs.

  “I normally charge an extra twenty dollars for this, but since it’s your first time, it really needs to be special. Now this is one great big white dick. It’s beautiful. A perfect penis,” she said. I thought, the lady doth protest too much, methinks. I’d seen enough men in the shower over the last several months to know I was nothing special down there. Nothing to be ashamed of either, but I knew better.

  She licked at the head of my pole, then from the underside, bringing her bright pink tongue through the tiny slit at the tip. She continued licking away the drop of clear pre-come, and then swirled her tongue around the head. Trisha held my gaze as she took the head in her mouth. I felt the most incredible sensation of moist heat envelop me. She lowered her face on my shaft while she stroked me with her hand. Inch by inch she went lower, taking more of me in her mouth, staring at me much of the time, holding my gaze. It was so intimate. I was enthralled by the vision of this beautiful woman’s face, the brightness of her lipstick, the darkness of her skin against my pale Irish whiteness, the shininess of my pole as it gleamed, sliding in and out of her mouth, gliding through her fist. And … and … those incredible eyes, I thought to myself.

  Within a minute, she was moving with an energy I’ve never felt since. Her head and shoulders rose and fell as a single unit, with her entire upper body now twisting as she ascended and descended, her hand moving in concert. I lightly cupped her head and when I did, she looked back to my face and took me from her mouth. She began rubbing my organ over both of her breasts, circling the head over both nipples. Her head lazily fell back, while she painted the shiny slickness of my length over her breasts. “Do you like the way my breasts feel against your cock?”

  “I love everything about them. Your skin is so warm and soft, your breasts so firm, nipples so hard.” So, now they weren’t “tits” anymore, they were “breasts”?

  With my shaft now centered perfectly in her cleavage, she pressed those two gorgeous mounds together. I was trapped between the twins. Surely, this is what heaven feels like. Her body had a fine sheen of sweat and I glided easily through Trisha-flesh. As she took me in her mouth again, I saw her left hand move to her center and watched as she fingered herself. The sound of her fingers sliding on her own wet flesh was all I heard.

  I felt my climax brewing as my organ suddenly swelled. God, I was hard enough to drive nails. Suddenly, I was terrified. Surely, my cock was about to burst wide open.

  She looked at me with a glitter in her eyes, a wide smile revealed pearly white teeth, while she continued to stroke me.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Ahhh! I’m going to come,” was my weak and feeble reply.

  “Well, just come on, baby. Come for me now,” she said. Then she must’ve felt my rod twitch because she quickly brought her mouth back over the head of my Johnson, just as I fired the first shot of my load. My orgasm crashed over me in a sudden deluge. I was drenched in magic sensations as the waves washed over my body.

  Trisha’s eyes snapped shut and she moaned slightly; her cheeks collapsed, sucking at my Johnson like a straw. After I stopped firing, she threw her head back and shook violently. I watched a vein in her throat intently as it throbbed while she swallowed; her left hand still at her center, moving furiously. I heard her involuntary exclamations, “Heee … Heeeeeeeee … Heeeee …” She’s giving herself pleasure, based on my pleasure! I don’t know why this seemed so incomprehensible for me, but it did.

  “Well, how was that?” she asked, stroking my still-hard member.

  “Amazing.” I was only capable of one word. At least it was more than one syllable.

  “I’m glad you liked it. I was thinking we could take a few minutes while … your battery recharged. But I don’t think we need to. You feel like you’re ready to go again. So how about it? Are you ready to bust your cherry?”

  “You have no idea.” I knew it sounded stupid, but nobody had given me a script.

  She crawled up onto the bed, graceful as a cat. “Actually, I think I do.”

  She used my chest for leverage and rubbed her lower lips along the underside of my rod, slowly. She allowed me to see the whiteness of my skin emerge from the darkness of hers. She took a second to run her hands over my shoulders, chest, and flat stomach—the six-pack compliments of the Army’s miserable diet and a few hundred thousand push-ups, sit-ups, and flutter-kicks. She ran her fingers through each of the cuts in the muscles of my stomach. Then she raised herself and placed the head of my tool at her soft wet folds. The smell of sex was so thick, it was almost tangible.

  She squared her shoulders and straightened her back, allowing me a fantastic look at that beautiful black body as it gleamed and glowed, towering above me. Then she looked me in the face, to make sure I was watching as she pushed herself down upon me. The sensation of my rod sliding into her was like gliding into hot oil. It was rapture. Her head rolled back for a second and I thought I could see the vein in her throat pulse before she began an even up and down motion of her hips.

  She lowered her chest down to my face and dangled her nipples over my lips. I opened my mouth and began to suckle eagerly. Our moist bodies slid together easily.

  Somehow, I forgot they were attached to a woman. I nipped one a little too hard and Trisha rose up quickly.

  “You need to be gentle, Rick. That hurt.”

  “I’m sorry, are these sensitive?” I asked, my hands stroking her breasts, trying to ease any pain.

  Holding my h
ands to her breasts, she said, “I’m sensitive, Rick. And I happen to know you are, too. Just relax. Don’t worry about the time. We have all night.” Slowly, she lowered her breasts back to my face, where I treated them with the reverence they were due.

  Until she mentioned the time, I’d almost forgotten she was a working girl.

  Soon, I felt the need to push my hips into her as hard and as high as I could. She recognized this for what it was and pushed her hips down on mine, thrusting her pelvis back and forth on my rod at a blistering pace. No longer up and down. I felt my rod swell to capacity again. Back and forth, we ground together, as the only sound in the room was of wet flesh smacking against flesh. She seemed determined to impale herself on my pole so I took a hip in each hand and did my best to assist her in the endeavor: to punch a hole clear through her cervix.

  She delivered a few slow, hard thrusts of her hips, with several “Ugghh! Uggghhhh! Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” Then stopped.

  But I wasn’t done, so I dragged her hips back and forth, thrusting until I felt the moment start at the tip of my cock and spread over the head and down the shaft, eventually flooding over my entire body as I began to fire my seed into the walls beyond her folds.

  Trisha seemed renewed. “That’s it baby. Fuck me … Fuck me, Rick. Fuck me just like that …”

  Again. This time, the sensations struck me like a freight train. Slow but powerful, a mile long, it surged through my body. I watched as Trisha thrashed about again briefly. Watching her added so much more to my climax. Her total package of eroticism. Amazing.

  When I returned to earth, I ran my hand along the top of her thighs. I took in the contours of her slightly curved tummy, the valleys that ran from her hip bones down to her lower lips, the ridgeline of her thighs, her flat stomach that became her narrow waist, up to the heavenly C cup swell of softness … Oh, dear God! I followed the lines back to the apex of her legs, where her tummy curved down to her thin strip, to her lips, to her very center, where my semihard pole still lay buried deep inside her. The lines all ran together, to culminate at one focal point. Oh, dear God! Here was the center of my universe. She continued to gyrate on my organ as it gradually softened. In a moment’s inspiration, I reached up with my left hand and took her right breast. I wet my right thumb and brought it to her clit, stroking lightly. She groaned loudly, captured my hand to her breast and insisted that my fingers pinch her nipple tighter, and then she pressed my thumb to her clit and thrashed about for a very long minute. With her head back again, I swear I saw that vein throbbing.