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From: Neneh <neneh99@my-deja.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Inspired (MF cons) <*>
Date: Mon, 14 Feb 2000 03:10:02 -0500
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This is my first posted work -- comments welcome. I've been working as
Uther's proofreader for about four years now; I hope I've learned a
little something in that time. Now that I'm on the other side, I see
that writing intelligent smut is way harder than it looks!

The usual disclaimers apply: If you're under 18, or otherwise shouldn't
be reading this, go away.

***

Inspired
by Neneh 99

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
Copyright 2000 by Neneh99; reposting requires permission by author.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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