He walks in. Heads turn. Conversations cease. Music stops. He’s tall, strong, and sexy. There’s something animalistic in his eyes, if only you could see behind the shades. On his head he sports the Kangol, his trademark. His lines are clean. His style: his own. He’s educated with a thug appeal.

She realizes her breath has been caught in her lungs for sometime and slowly exhales. Then she looks around to make sure no one saw. Of course not. They are all caught up in their superficial lives. Wondering where their next lay was. She already knew. Her heart starts to accelerate. She parts her lips slightly to facilitate its escape as her breath quickens.

As many times as they’ve done this, it never gets old. The places are always different, but always the same result. The anticipation. It had been at least a week since they last came together.

She’s sporting a red trench hoodie a la Red Riding Hood. It reaches just below her knees and covers up the goodies her mother blessed her with. All of them reserved for her man. The patent red shoes would be the only thing touching her body soon… except him of course. Her lips are full, bitable. And she starts to do so now, drawing one corner of her mouth between her teeth. She bites hard then tastes blood. Under the trench, her D cup breasts are smothered by black and red lace; panties to match. She feels herself getting wet already and can’t wait until he tastes the sweet nectar saved only for him.

Finally he catches her eye. A couple of dudes come up to give respect, but his eyes stay locked on hers. Even through the shades, she knows. He gives the guys a quick dap, thug hug and walks towards her. She’s sitting on a bar stool with her legs crossed; her thigh peeks out enough to tease. As he crosses the room, he presses his lips together to suppress a sly smile. Even he is stunned by the way she looks; and knowing that shortly he would get to release the throbbing pressure was enough to bring him close to the edge.

Not one word is said as he puts his right hand on the back of her neck and forcefully envelopes her mouth with his. His tongue promises she won’t be disappointed. Even though they had kissed hundreds of times before, this one is different; as if their souls exchanged right there. His left hand slips under her coat, up her thigh and cups her ass. He squeezes it hard as she holds her breath. The pain brings a tear to her eye knowing it will bruise, but it gives her goose bumps and makes her near-dripping ***** pulse even harder.

By now, everyone has disappeared. The bubble they’re in contains only two people. They float to the VIP lounge that has been reserved for him. He slips the club owner a bill as he shows them to the stairs. It’s a private room on the second floor that has a one-way mirror so you can still see the dance floor; feel the beat of the music. The balcony hovers over the Gulf and the glass doors remain open so you can hear the sound of the surf. The walls are painted a dark chocolate. There’s a black leather couch and a glass coffee table in the center. The artwork has music incorporated throughout. The lighting is hidden behind panels on the ceiling so that everything seems to be bathed in candlelight. None of that matters though. They hardly even notice.

Their hearts start to match the rhythm coming from underneath their feet as they embrace and start to dance slowly. The calm before the storm. He pulls his shades off, then the Kangol and tosses them on the table. She immediately grabs his smooth, bald head with both hands and pulls him towards her. She cocks her head and sucks on his neck. Then moves up to his ear. She whispers “Fuck me”. He rips her away from him and tears away at her coat. Pushes her shoulders down and now she’s kneeling in front of him. She looks up, smiles, licks her lips and unzips his pants. His rock hard **** nearly hits her in the face; it’s been so swollen and suffocated.

Taking a moment to appreciate his **** , she’s always surprised. It’s big, thick, hard, and has a curve that hits all the right spots. Every day, she dreams about sucking it dry. Tonight, she finally gets to. She starts at the tip and licks off the precum that has started to drip out. Puckering her lips, she kisses his head and slowly starts to take the shaft in her mouth. He grabs her hair and wraps it around his hand. He doesn’t have to guide her head though because she knows the exact rhythm that he likes. She takes it all the way until it hits her tonsils and makes her gag. It’s exactly what he is waiting for. She feels his **** throbbing and growing even bigger and quickly pulls her mouth off of it before he cums.

He yanks her up, turns her around, bends her over the couch and pulls her panties to the side in one swift move. Now he’s the one on his knees. Still fully clothed, he finds her clit and tugs on it with his lips. His tongue darts under the hood while he buries his mouth in her hairless mound. She cums almost instantly; her orgasm is hard and lasts nearly a minute. Her legs fall from underneath her. He catches her by the waist and in the same motion, tears her panties off and sticks his **** in from behind. Warm, sticky wetness starts to drip down her legs and she cums again, still begging for more. He continues to pound her until the sound of his balls slapping against her ass matches the beat from the dance floor.

His moans turn to screams as he explodes, still pumping away. By the time he’s through, they both collapse in a heap on the couch; her face down, him on top of her. Both are slick with sweat. They nearly fall into an instant sleep, but before that happens; he utters the second sentence spoken that night: “God damn, I love you girl!” She just smiles, and closes her eyes, already anticipating next time.