Z-Rated (Chocolate Flava 3)

My words of passion caused my freaky lover to lose control. With a simple lick of my tongue against his ear, he changed up his pattern. Terry pushed his dick all the way in, and then pulled it all the way out. He did this over and over while someone banged on the door.

I placed my hands on Terry’s chest to try to move him, but he refused to let go.

It was clear that he was on a mission.

“I’m about to cum, Danny. Cum with me, baby.”

I was also on the verge of cumming, but I wanted Terry to know how much I’d missed him. It was my turn to bring the heat and my turn to lose control. So, I begged him.

“Please, let me taste you, baby.” My legs fell from his shoulders and I began to slide to my knees.

Terry grabbed my hair as he slid his dick into my mouth. I pulled once, then twice, and Terry delivered the very thing I was after. As he came, I suckled and swallowed at the same time.

I drained him dry, but that wasn’t enough for either of us.

Terry lifted me again to the desk and with his oh-so-perfect lips and tongue, he licked me, he suckled, he nibbled and kissed me until my honey flowed easily into his mouth.

“Damn, baby, this pussy is still sweet.”

I smiled at his beautiful face. “I’ve missed you.”

“Good, because I’m here to stay. Now, we’ll finish this later. Right now we better get our shit in order, ’cause somebody’s on their way in here.”

Quickly, we hustled on every stitch of clothing we could find.

It was the sound of keys, then the opening of the door, that prevented Terry from taking that last sloppy kiss that was on its way to my neck. So, instead we stood straight, brought our left hands to our foreheads and with a smile, saluted … the Captain.

Swirl

N’Tyse

Can somebody say, “horny and desperate-ass female!” Yes, I’m referring to myself right now. There I was, in a wide-open, dimly lit room—surrounded by dick. Massive, chocolate, send-your-ass-to-the-emergency-room–type dicks, to be exact. Yet with all the eye candy swinging in my direction and hanging at my mercy, I chose to play it safe—at least for the night. After all, it was my first time. Now don’t get it twisted; I was no virgin. In fact, I was incredibly experienced in the sex department. However, it was my first time inside Purgatory since becoming a member. I had joined online immediately after having one of my … moments. I discovered the site as I was searching for local nightclubs that catered to women like me—single, voluptuous, thrill-seeking sex kittens who didn’t have either the time to date, the patience to date, or the self-confidence to date. Surprisingly, I happened to fall in each category. That explained why I had resorted to searching for dick—not love, but dick—online.

On the web, dick came in varieties. They were convenient, readily available, and I didn’t have to worry about any drama. Yes, I admit it; I was a cyber-ho. I’d spend hours at a time surfing the Internet, reading some spicy erotica, and viewing pictures of hot, butt-ass naked, well-endowed men. Then, once my pussy started percolating, I’d whip out my bunny rabbit, climb into bed, and pleasure myself until I’d calmed those urges. I did all this every single night. And that’s only half of the story. I’d done the unthinkable, had made a believer out of the impossible, and had flirted with the forbidden. I would do anything for dick! So it was merely a matter of time before I found Purgatory.

It was an upscale nightclub centered in the heart of the city. But it wasn’t just any ol’ nightclub. It was exclusively for single, plus-sized women. There was a lengthy application process as well. I had to create a profile, submit my picture, and … get this … I had to wait until I was approved. I mean, damn, you would have thought I was applying for a Lane Bryant credit card or something. I had to sign a waiver of liability and everything. On top of having to go through all of that, I was still put on their “waiting list.” This made me even more anxious to experience the place for myself.

Two months later, I learned that my membership had been granted. The membership dues varied depending on the levels. Level 1 was Heaven, level 2, Hell, and

level 3, Purgatory. And I can’t forget about VIP, which they called the Champagne Room. Of course, I had full access. Horny … desperate!

The impeccably decorated 10,000-plus square-foot venue was a secluded loft situated in the Dallas warehouse district. Valet parking, male hosts, escorts, movie theater, private shows and showers, voyeur closet … you name it and they had it, including naked men sprawled out on banquet tables serving as fruit and vegetable platters. All in all, Purgatory was the perfect grown-and-sexy atmosphere for releasing your inhibitions or satisfying that starving libido.

Before leaving my house, I promised myself that I would just observe, get a feel for the club and its festivities, before partaking in any of the events. And I was doing exactly that as I sat at a cornered table, in Heaven (the upper level of the club), sipping on a glass of pink champagne. I was dressed to kill, if I should say so myself. My only complaint was that my girdle was too damn tight. I should have worn the Spanx instead; although I couldn’t deny that while I was in temporary discomfort, the undergarment held everything together and accentuated my curves nicely. The new black dress I wore also hugged my body. It wasn’t easy trying to hide the ten extra pounds I had gained over the holidays, but judging by the way these men gawked at me, I didn’t have a damn thing to worry about. My naturally long, flowing hair was pulled back in a chignon, revealing more of my smooth, mocha complexion. My skin and exotic features were illuminated by a single vanilla-scented tea light, and my narrow, brown eyes glowed as I sat in awe of everything taking place around me.

“Did you come to swirl, or are you going to continue to sit there and miss out on all this fun?” I heard a voice say.

I looked to my right and my eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Good lawd! All I wanted to know was whether it was real. I had only read about Mandingo, never imagined I would be meeting his back-breaking, pussy-beating, booty-spanking ass tonight. I swallowed the last bit of champagne that was marinating my tongue. My lips moved but I couldn’t hear myself speak. I was dicknotized! After a minute or so, I was able to come to my senses. “I’m sorry. What did you just ask me?”

The host, the man with the colossal, hooked dick and potato bags for nut sacs, smiled at me. His smile was definitely a blush. I figured he was used to this type of reaction from women; especially after walking up on them with all his goods hanging out. He moved closer; my drifting eyes broke their fixation. I finally admired his oiled, bald head and bulging biceps. His skin mirrored mine and his eyes were the color of cognac. Being as fine and meaty as he was, I was able to look past his five-foot, four-inch height.

“I was just asking if you were going to swirl with the rest of us. A lady as beautiful as you shouldn’t be sitting here all alone.”

This time I smiled, blushed. My nerves were starting to embarrass me. My eyes roamed again, back to his midsection. I gathered my horny thoughts. “It’s actually my first time here. Normally, I’m not this … shy.”

“I see,” he replied, licking the lust off of those chocolate full lips. “Well, do please allow me the privilege of showing you around.”

No harm in that, I figured. “Sure. I’d like that,” I said.