Inspired
by Neneh99

If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else.

This material is Copyright, 2000, Neneh99. All rights reserved. She specifically grants the right of downloading and keeping one electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission.

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Inspired
by Neneh99


Flipping through channels on a boring Saturday afternoon.

Good godamighty. It's the new D'Angelo video. The one with all the buzz. The one all the women are talking about. The one sending brothas back to the gym. And now I know why.

He's not singing, but connecting -- simultaneously plugging into my mind, heart, and cunt. The voice enters me, throbs and pulsates, makes me wet. A cross between The Artist and Al Green, all falsetto yearning and gravelly sensuality. "How does it feel?" Baby I don't know, but I really wanna.

D's got neat cornrows, sleepy eyes, tattooed muscles, and perfectly full lips; those thuggish poet-types are always my weakness. Oh, and did I mention that the man is butterball nekkid? Okay, so this is BET and not the Spice Channel; the camera coyly flirts with the NC-17 area. Panning above somebody's head, from the look on D's face. Doesn't matter though; I've got a good imagination. His body is young and tight and gleaming, sweating sex. Baring his soul, face contorting with the strength of his emotions -- and in the next moment, he's got that look as if that offscreen head is getting a mouthful of cum.

I close my eyes and we're alone on the set, black background and white floodlights. One hand cups my face, drawing me into a sweet, light kiss; another cups my breast, fingernails gently raking the soft roundness; one of my hands grips his glistening biceps, anchoring me to him; the other splays across his lower back, possessing and possessive. The kisses travel down the side of my face and follows an invisible spiral staircase around my neck. Brushing my braids aside, he begins a precipitous descent at my nape, skimming his lips over my spine and encouraging me to bend over. His hand on my hip steadies me; his nips at my ass do not. A trail of slickness starts down my thigh.

Suddenly my legs are spread apart and a warm, wet, insistent mouth attaches itself, infant-like, to my center. Sweet Jesus. I grab hold of my knees and try to hold on. His tongue swoops and dives, advances and retreats, stabs and lathes... I moan and groan. He eases two fingers inside, draws them out even slower, all the while rocking my clit with his teeth. Two times. Three times. At the four count, my knees buckle and we go down together.

Closeup of rigid cock, thick and curving slightly upward. Toffee hand encircles milk chocolate base, topped with cherry lips. Saliva mixes with pre-come in a salty syrup. My lips explore his scrotum as I jack him to the drowsy, seductive backbeat. "Isis... oh honey..." he says, voice husky and warmed with a sweet Southern accent. "C'mon now..." I look up, past the rock-hard stomach into his enlarged pupils, and slowly trail his hard cock out of my mouth. He lets out an involuntary grunt.

A television monitor in the corner reflects the action: me suddenly flipped over, him crawling up my body, us finding the groove together. His thrusts are deep and slow. My hips roll and bounce. He croons in my ear as I clutch him tight and give him back measure for measure. I can feel it building; his strokes fill me in staccato fashion. The feeling ripples up and down my body, flashes through him, then doubles back into me. It's all coming together, my pulsing and his driving and our panting. Not....... (oh, it's too good)..... long..... (what you do to me)..... now..... (can't hold back).....

Fade out.

A little spasm catches me off guard and I grind my thighs together. Damn, it's so hot I can smell myself. I reach over for the phone and hit the speed dial. "Hey sweetie... You doin' anything right now?"

 
The end
Inspired
by Neneh99
Copyright, 2000.


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