B ehind his steering wheel, Wilson adjusted the rearview mirror to watch the scene in the back. His grin was possibly even broader than his boss's. He had seen enough already.

In the end, all girls are born equal. That much he had learned since he was driving for Shaq. Black or white, red or yellow, voluptuous or hard bodied, rich or poor, young or old... You name it. Over time he had observed them ALL on that backseat, and they ALL were after just one thing: BLACK COCK. In ample size please, thank you. Wilson could now add one entry to his list: "Famous, or a nobody."

In the absence of other thoughts, the amateur anthropologist within him often pondered about what it was with girls. Did they get up in the morning with the image of big black penises in their minds, or was it only while eating a banana? Whatever, it meant that being Afro-American had at least ONE advantage in the end. Michael Jackson had to be MORE nuts than nuts!

On the backseat behind him, Anna meanwhile bent over towards Shaq until they were cheek-to-cheek. Her luscious lips almost touched his earlobes when she whispered:

"You've seen already most of me now. So, when are you going to show it?"

"Show what??"

"Your ebone-er of course," she added with an arch smile, and quick as a weasel she gave the ridge in his pants a gentle queeze.

Shaq was caught by surprise and made a little jump in his seat. Yes, his cock had been touched and handled many, many times before in this car, on this seat. Even without shorts around it! But never unanticipated like this.

Anna sniggered.

"A-HAA! Did I find your Achilles’ heel?" she laughed.

Then, with a roguish look in her eyes: "I'll promise not to tell anybody. IF we can have some fun together, that is!"

Shaq's eyes continued growing wider; since the very second when the sexy blonde had transformed into Anna Kournikova by putting off her glasses, he had switched from "fuck"-mode to "conversation"-mode, which was not to his liking, so he had forced a wry smile all the time (Anna was much better at faking it for the camera).

No, he didn't mind meeting Anna, far from. But his agenda for this afternoon had originally contained a good solid fuck and that was the last thing he expected from her. Yeah, it had been often talk-of-the-day in the dressing rooms, after yet another match where she had shown up as spectator. They jokingly speculated about when she was going to join the Lakers Girls. Not one single player didn't want to fill her every hole, it seemed. But that was guy talk, and this was REALITY. Lakers stars fucked cheerleaders or candidates, but that's as far as their privileges reached. Girls like Anna, or Beyoncé for example, remained elusive even for them. Even NBA stars can still dream. Or you had to get very lucky.

And Shaq started to realize that maybe he HAD gotten very lucky!

"Hey, are you ASLEEP or what?"

If it hadn't dawned on him yet by now, Anna was soon going to make sure it would; she didn't wait for Shaq to answer, but playfully pushed him with his back against the seat and mounted his right knee, wrapping her athletic legs around his enormous thigh. She kicked off her slippers and shifted higher up, rolling up his boxers as she moved close enough to whisper into his ear again. Her loose shorts got stuck between them and exposed her bare pussy ever so slightly. A slick trail was left as her damp pussylips dragged over Shaq's hairy skin.

"Why don't you suggest to Wilson he park the van and take a breath of fresh air. What do you think?" she purred.

Shaq's brain needed a second to process that she didn't wear any panties; oh boy, did it make his erection jerk!

"Good idea!" he immediately responded, surprising himself with the loudness of his own words. He also had to clear his throat before continuing.

"Wilson?" Shaq shrugged again.

"Yes, Mr. O'Neal?" (In the presence of important people, Wilson reverted to more formal communication.)

"We have been driving for a while now, and it's still some way to go. So I suggest we pull out at the next parking area, and you take a walk to inhale a breath of fresh air."

"Not a bad idea, sir."

"I'll page you with the mobile when you've cleared your head."

Anna chuckled; they all, no doubt Wilson included, knew full well what exactly was going on, underneath a thin layer of make-pretend. But each played the role expected from him or her. So, Wilson was going to "take a breath of fresh air" until his "head was clear again."

And Wilson wasn't to object. Usually, Shaq's fuck toys didn't care in the least whether he watched, recorded things on video or even threw in his own $0.02. But he accepted that the Kournikova girl was a different breed. This was not a mongrel. This was a thoroughbred! And she needed to be handled accordingly.

"As you wish, sir." He would hear the raunchy details later.

Shaq meanwhile realized he was not only talking loud but also breathing rather heavy and jagged. He was really and truly becoming excited, it seemed! These routine backseat fucks had become a bit of a rut over the years. The highs, represented by a few favorite girls who returned from time to time, were becoming fewer and fewer among the usual mediocrity. It was almost auto-pilot most of the time, a "compulsory act." But now, it was different. Here he was sitting, mounted by a girl who actually matched his excellence, in her own territory, with beauty and downright hotness. Was it *respect* he was feeling? It was awe, and a deep awareness of the unique chance he was offered. He was going to screw Anna Kournikova, and he was going to love every single second of it!

Hopefully for Anna, who was wiggling her saddle wet, he would leave some seconds for her, too.

=> CHAPTER 5

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