Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : Jon Bradbury
Word Count :40750
Publication Date :2010-11-29
Series : #
Heat Level :
- Product Code: 978-1-55410-198-6
Veronica, disappointed with her present love life, decides to start dating white men.
Veronica Moore has got it going on -- she very nicely fills the part of an Ebony goddess. She's educated, well-spoken, intelligent, and incredibly beautiful. She's also been having bad luck with brothers, so she decides to start dating white men -- just in time to meet Bryan Edwards, an architect in a small firm that's about to get a lot bigger. Despite being well-off, and being liked by many women, Bryan is having his own problems, with women in general and relationships in particular, until a new employee at his firm opens his eyes to new possibilities -- black women. Bryan and Veronica have one thing in common -- a friend named Autumn, who will do whatever is in her power to bring these two broken but hopeful hearts together. Fate, however, steps in and lends Autumn a hand -- and it's love at first sight. Bryan is taken with Veronica's natural beauty, and her lady-like mannerisms, and she adores his sweet nature. But when fate misfires, Autumn takes over. But can even she get these two back together?
Underneath me, my boyfriend Kevon groaned and exhaled, "Oh, man!"
"Oh, baby," I moaned, as I moved my hips slowly, trying to get more of him inside me. My white satin and lace camisole was bunched up around my waist as I rode Kevon.
"Oh, man," he groaned again--weakly.
"OH, baby," I pretended to shout passionately.
"OH, man," he really groaned, with a loud grunt and then a loud exhale.
I kept on moving my hips, even after he came, pretending to like it. And then he promptly fell asleep, right where he was. So much for me being on top, I thought.
If you must know, I read in some woman's magazine that being on top could extend lovemaking and give the woman--me--a greater degree of control over both her orgasms and his, too.
Yeah, right. Not with this guy, baby!
How such an interesting man could be so--how shall I put this, disinteresting, is beyond me.
As his cock went flaccid inside me and he went into dreamland, I stared angrily at him and wondered what on earth I ever saw in him. He was a tall, raffishly handsome black man with eyes that just made me melt--at first. He was well-off, well-read, and well-endowed--too well-endowed, as I found out later. I also found out later he's kind of a jerk, despite his urban sophistication.
And I swear, he's a terrible lover. Like the song says, he comes on all grabbin' and clutchin'. Then he fucks me like I'm a piece of meat, comes inside me and falls asleep.
Some women love a big dick. I do too, it's just that, in this case, the wizard doesn't know how to use his wand very well -- and 'foreplay' is not a word that he understands.
This cat just don't know, baby!
And he complains my pussy is too tight! This in the same breath that he's in rapture about my body. I love to do power yoga, and it shows. At thirty I have no stretch marks and a firm body.
I climbed off him and looked gratefully at the condom that had successfully contained him which was unrolled down to the serial number, and then some. I sighed quietly, but sadly. On another, more talented, more thoughtful man, this dick would have had me on my knees and thanking the Lord Himself.
I carefully took off the condom and threw it in the trash. Then I covered him to his chest so I couldn't see his offending organ any more. He never stirred an eyelash, didn't even turn in bed. I looked at him, all sprawled across my beautiful brass bed, and smiled without affection.
I looked at my alarm clock, its green numbers glowing in the dark. My boyfriend, asleep and snoring at ten-fifteen after maybe ten minutes of lovemaking.
I crossed my bedroom and looked out the window at the moon. Then I went into the bathroom and closed the door without turning on the light, leaving the night light on. I slipped off my camisole and draped it over the towel rack.
I looked at myself, naked, in the mirror, the shadows sensuously following my curves. I'm five foot four, with light chocolate brown skin, brown wavy hair past my shoulders, and brown eyes the same color as my skin. I have a slender, petite, curvy figure, with nice perfectly round breasts, a small torso, and a slim waist that widened into wide, curvy hips and a nice round bubble butt.
Not bad for a woman who recently turned thirty, huh?
My only really bad spot--in my opinion--is that I have a lot of hair around my pussy. Some women have, like, a nice little patch of hair just above their pussies, while other women have hair all over their crotch. I'm in that category--I have a circle of curly black hair all around my pussy. I contemplate shaving down there on a regular basis, but I just don't want to mess with it, on top of shaving my armpits and my legs.
You hear me, ladies?
"Veronica Moore,"--yes, that's my name--"Girl, you got yourself a real lemon of a man. Too bad you can't make lemonade with him."
Believe me, I have tried. Oh, baby, how I've tried.
And, on top of everything else, I hadn't had any for eight months before I met Kevon. Trust me on this one guys, there is nothing worse than a woman who's sexually frustrated. To say that I'm horny would be putting it mildly.
I looked at my pussy again, all hidden underneath shadow and hair, and sighed. I wasn't even close to having an orgasm. I wasn't even wet. In the semi-dark, I put a towel on the toilet seat and sat down.
I palmed my breasts, trailed my fingertips across my skin--arms, neck, shoulders, face, lips. I sucked and licked on my fingers, then across my nipples, down my tummy and up my thighs, until I could run my fingers through that circle of hair. I could feel that electric tightness. I closed my eyes and arched my back, not even bothering to imagine another man down there. I took my sweet time, and when I came, I just let the waves of orgasmic ecstasy wash over me. I inhaled sharply, exhaled, inhaled sharply again, exhaled.
I opened my eyes and I realized I was crying. Crying for the loving I was missing. Somewhere out there was the one man for me. And the man in my bed wasn't him.
Kevon may have been an interesting man, but he was a lousy boyfriend, in addition to being a poor lover. I made up my mind right then and there that Kevon would be out of my life by the end of the week. Any excuse to break up with him would be perfectly fine by me.
I dried my eyes, put my white camisole back on, and carefully climbed back in bed. My last thought before I fell asleep was that the next man I meet had better be able to treat me like a lady.