One Night in Lagos

One Night in Lagos

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Tags

sex, etc

Summary

Other Authors Back in the day, I was part of a little clique of writers on this site. We would write for and about each other. That probably still happens too. I had some lovely stuff written about me: I was invariably given abs like Arnold and a penis of impossible dimensions. It didn’t help that I had persuaded everyone that I was tall, dark and Scottish (whereas I am actually short, fair and Home-Counties). It was all wonderfully flattering. And flattery is the name of the game. The women in these stories are my fantasy of how I perceived my writer friends. As it turned out, one portrayal was remarkably accurate – but I’m not saying which one! If you are still here, you know who you are. You are all beautiful, sexy ladies. The first story may have had a different title when I put it up here originally. The working title I gave it was ‘Writers’ Forum’, so that is how it appears today. As a story, it’s a kind of dual narrative thing – otherwise, it’s just filth! Sex, sex and more sex. I had fun with it, but it’s not much of a story. The second tale, ‘Moonglow by Moonlight’ is a bit more complex and interesting. As a theatre buff, I consider myself fortunate to have made the acquaintance of many theatre people down the years. The background for this story is based on a tale from an actor friend who toured the States with and English company; he assured me, that these ‘meet the cast’ things he did were a very good way of hooking up with American housewives! The third tale, ‘Reconciliation’, was a real challenge. I wrote this knowing nothing about the author beyond her work. She told me I had portrayed her very well. I think it’s a good story, you be the judge. ‘One Night in Lagos’ was written as a birthday present for a friend on this site. I’m glad to say that the writer really enjoyed it. It’s a bit of froth – silly, sexy fun. Enjoy. I’m sorry if your story isn’t here – I know I wrote others – but these are all I have left.

Tags

sex, etc

Summary

Other Authors
Back in the day, I was part of a little clique of writers on this site. We would write for and about each other. That probably still happens too.
I had some lovely stuff written about me: I was invariably given abs like Arnold and a penis of impossible dimensions. It didn’t help that I had persuaded everyone that I was tall, dark and Scottish (whereas I am actually short, fair and Home-Counties). It was all wonderfully flattering.
And flattery is the name of the game. The women in these stories are my fantasy of how I perceived my writer friends. As it turned out, one portrayal was remarkably accurate – but I’m not saying which one!
If you are still here, you know who you are.
You are all beautiful, sexy ladies.
The first story may have had a different title when I put it up here originally. The working title I gave it was ‘Writers’ Forum’, so that is how it appears today. As a story, it’s a kind of dual narrative thing – otherwise, it’s just filth! Sex, sex and more sex. I had fun with it, but it’s not much of a story.

The second tale, ‘Moonglow by Moonlight’ is a bit more complex and interesting. As a theatre buff, I consider myself fortunate to have made the acquaintance of many theatre people down the years. The background for this story is based on a tale from an actor friend who toured the States with and English company; he assured me, that these ‘meet the cast’ things he did were a very good way of hooking up with American housewives!
The third tale, ‘Reconciliation’, was a real challenge. I wrote this knowing nothing about the author beyond her work. She told me I had portrayed her very well. I think it’s a good story, you be the judge.

‘One Night in Lagos’ was written as a birthday present for a friend on this site. I’m glad to say that the writer really enjoyed it. It’s a bit of froth – silly, sexy fun. Enjoy.

I’m sorry if your story isn’t here – I know I wrote others – but these are all I have left.

Content

Submitted: July 31, 2020

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: July 31, 2020

A A A

A A A


Joyce rolled lazily onto her back, her body tingling and her mind fuzzy in an orgasmic miasma. As she opened her knees she felt his semen slip from her sopping slit and trace a slimy trail over her perineum, across her anus and down her ample buttocks. The sensation made her giggle.

“Nice?” said the man.

“Oh yes,” she replied, “very nice indeed.”

By the lights of the city outside she could see him prop himself up on one elbow and stare at her naked form.

“Gorgeous,” he said, “you are simply gorgeous….”

The sound of his voice and the warmth of his compliment made Joyce’s smile widen in the dark room.

“Not too bad yourself, Hottie,” she chuckled.

His long pale fingers were tracing slow circles on the soft round rise of her belly. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the gentle ministrations on her hot, perspiring skin.

She felt a tender kiss on her forehead. “You’ve not had your present yet, princess.” he murmured.

“Present?”

“Wait.” And with that Francisco Fraser got up from her sweat-soaked sheets and padded naked across her bedroom floor.

 

‘Abuja conference starts Friday at 5; I’ve changed my flight to arrive in Lagos, Thursday at 3. I’ll take a taxi from the airport. Looking forward to meeting you. FF xx’

Oh shit. Thought Joyce. He’s coming. He’s actually coming. I was just being polite, but he’s coming. Here. In two days. Oh shit!

Okay, calm down, girl. He’s just a guy, just a guy from the site, just a friend. He’ll come here and we’ll chat about the site and our families and friends and…fuck it. Who am I kidding? He’ll want sex. Definitely. He’s not coming all the way to Lagos for polite chit-chat over a coffee, he’s coming for pussy. Mmmm. He better be! Finally someone is coming to Nigeria, just for me. There had better be sex!

With her mind resolved on fucking Francisco, Joyce started to plan.

Divine? I need to farm him out to a friend for the night, but who? Marion Eregli was a possible; after all she and Divine had Amy Eregli stay over when Marion was on her out of town business trips? Tchaa! Business trips? Everyone knew she was fucking Kwame Olewayo in the Lekki Hotel on the harbor front. No, not Marion. Besides, Divine wasn’t crazy about girls…not yet anyway.

I wonder if he could stay over with his best friend Hasan Adamu? Kebe Adamu was a good woman, they’d always got on well. I’m sure she’d help out. A single phonecall and that was sorted. Kebe would take Divine home with Hasan from school and he’d sleep over. Perfect.

Now what to wear? After an hour in her underwear drawer, Joyce decided to get something new. She’d shop after she’d dropped Divine off at school. This was a special occasion after all!

So everything was organized. On Thursday morning she’d take Divine to school with his extra bag for the sleepover. She’d go to Whispers and get something truly outstanding. She would come home, prepare a nice welcome meal for Franco, then she’d bathe, make up and dress in such a way that he’d be begging for her as soon as he saw her! Yes. That was how it would go.

And that is how it should have gone.

But….

It all started so well. She got Divine to school nice and early – met Kebe, gave her Divine’s overnight bag. Chatted as young mums do over this and that. Then on into town. Joyce loved the luxury of lingering over lingerie, so she took her time. Having finally chosen a beautiful lacy red basque and string set, she set off for home. She was considering what to cook – titus? Tilapia? Did he like fish? Maybe smoked goat. Suddenly her phone rang. It was Kebe.

“Joyce, I’m so sorry to let you down tonight but my mother has been taken ill and I need to look after her, we can’t have Divine tonight. I’m so sorry.”

Okay there was still time to organize something. Then there came a text message.

‘Plane arrived early. Should be with you in about an hour. FF xx’

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit!

She might just have time to pick up Divine from school and get home in about an hour. If the traffic was good.

It wasn’t.

As she parked in front of her house there was a tall, black-haired man with a greyish goatee beard at her front door. He was dressed in a smart linen suit and had a bag and suitcase at his side. In her blouse and pants, Joyce felt horribly underdressed.

Embarrassed at being late and unprepared, she approached the big stranger sheepishly. Ready to be told off for making her guest wait. Ready to apologise.

But when she looked at his face, Francisco gave her a huge smile and with a twinkle in his light blue eyes said, “Real Romance? It’s a great pleasure to see you at last.” For such a big man his voice was light, but there was no mistaking the accent…each one of those rolled rs set off tiny little thrills deep inside her. For a moment she just stared. Then suddenly aware of what she was doing she averted her eyes and extended a hand, which Franco shook gently.

“Are you well, Joyce?” he asked, “And how are your family?”

“Mommy? Who is this man?” Divine’s little voice broke into her reverie.

“You must be Divine.” Franco bent his tall frame to the boy’s level, “How do you do? And what age are you? eight? nine?”

“No, silly. I’m six.”

“Six! But you’re such a big fellah! What’s that you’ve got? Lego? I love Lego. What do you like to build?”

“Aeroplanes!”

“No way! I love aeroplanes. I was just on one. Do you want to show me what you can make?”

Joyce was tugged by embarrassment, “Divine!” she scolded, “Where are your manners? This is Mister Francisco Fraser – say hello properly!”

“Sorry mamma,” said the little boy, “Welcome, Mister Francisco,” and he gave a little bow. “Now can we play Lego!”

Joyce sighed, opened the door and Divine dragged Franco past her, into his room to show off his toys.

Having put her shopping bags in the bedroom, Joyce went into the kitchen to make up for fruit juice for Divine. Oh No! She thought – I’ve nothing in for dinner! I didn’t get to the market. She went quickly into Divine’s room where her son and her guest were sticking little plastic blocks together and chatting excitedly.

“Francisco, I need to go to the store. Can you look after Divine for 5 minutes?”

“Of course!” said Franco – “Maybe Divine can look after me!”

The little boy giggled at the silliness of the suggestion so Joyce stepped out of the house and quickly went to the local store. It was late for good fresh food, but she picked up some nice big plantain and some fine peppers amongst her groceries. She was just considering nipping to the fishmonger when a thought struck her.

Oh my God! I have left my son alone in the house with a complete stranger! A man! Anything could happen. She quickly paid and, in a panic, dashed home.

Back in the house, the boys were still at play, but the Lego had spread all across Divine’s bedroom floor.

“Divine! Come into the kitchen a minute,” she called. She heard her son grunt in disapproval, but he came obediently enough.

“Sweetie, when I was out, did Mister Francisco do anything to you?”

“Like what, mamma?”

“Maybe touch you, in a way you didn’t like?”

“Oh yeah, he did. But it was pretty funny…” before Divine could finish Joyce wrapped him in her arms. “ee oo eye oh” said a little voice in Joyce’s ample bosom.

“He what?” Joyce could feel herself begin to cry, how could she be so stupid?

“He pulled my nose.” Said the boy.

“Your nose?”

“Yeah, it was kind of funny. I asked him – I asked him lots of times - when Mrs Francisco was coming and he pulled my nose. And told me not to be nosey.”

“Divine!” her exclamation came out as half-cry, half-laugh gasp of exasperation, she tried to be stern, but her relief made her grin, “That’s not a question to ask an adult – you know this. Oh, go and play. I have dinner to make.”

Dinner was hot pepper stew (very nice, even though she thought so herself) and fried plantain. Franco tucked in with great appreciation and all three chatted pleasantly at the table. It was very nice and domestic, Joyce thought, with a touch of disappointment. But….

She could feel his eyes on her at times – not staring – just glances from those sea-blue eyes at her eyes, her lips…her breasts... Oh, and the sound of his voice, the rhotic r’s, the  voiced h’s, the guttural vowel sounds – it sounded musical but harsh at the same time. It must sound so fucking horny when he talks dirty, mused Joyce. She squirmed slightly in her seat, she could feel herself getting damp. She pulled herself up. What are you doing woman? At the dinner table with a guest and your own little boy and your head is full of fuck-fantasies.

“You are a princess,” his voice broke into her reverie, “don’t you think so, Divine? Your ma is a princess? A queen of a cook?”

“That’d make me a prince,” the little boy piped up, “I’d like that.”

Franco laughed. “Eat you stew, your highness. A good boy might get a wee present.”

Divine dutifully finished his plate and Franco excused himself and brought back a little parcel. Divine tore open the paper and found a little soft-toy dog with a tartan ribbon. Oh dear, thought Joyce, he’s way too old for that. But Franco made the little toy speak in a funny voice and soon both Joyce and her son were laughing at its antics.

When it came to his bedtime, Divine begged his mamma to let Mr Francisco read his story. Joyce agreed, but as she always enjoyed story time with her son, she felt a bit put out.  She lingered at the door and listened as Franco told a silly rhyming story about a little dog and his friends and how they were all frightened of a cat! Divine loved it and asked for it again, by the end of the retelling Joyce could hear the tiredness in her little boy’s voice. Franco stroked Divine’s head, tucked him in and bade him good night.

He joined Joyce outside the bedroom door and they both watched as the little boy’s breathing slowed and deepened and he began to snore gently. The sound made Joyce giggle.

“How could you do that?” she whispered to Franco.

“Do what? Tell a story?”

“All of it! You kept him going for hours.”

“Come on now Joyce, I have son of my own. He might be grown up, but I remember him at six. And before that – I have nine nephews. There were always kids around when I was growing up. I’ve been playing with little boys since I was a little boy myself.”

Joyce saw her chance, she moved closer to Franco, “And do you like to play with little girls?” she purred.

“No,” he replied, “but I just love to play with big girls!” and he grabbed Joyce round the waist.

The closeness of the embrace made her tingle, but Joyce had enough control left to say “Not here. We don’t want to wake up Divine.” And she dragged Franco towards her bedroom.

As soon as her door was closed, they were kissing fiercely, her tongue and his, coiling and turning. She felt his hands under her blouse, pulling it up. Joyce briefly cursed for not changing into her new lingerie when Franco was distracted by Divine. Too late now. Her shirt was off and she was enjoying the sensation of Franco planting kisses over her neck and chest and then on the tops of her breasts pushed up by her tight bra.

Franco deftly undid the hooks at the back and pushed down her straps. Straight away he was moulding and kneading her big brown boobs. “Fucking gorgeous tits!” he rasped, and bent his head to lick and suck at her thick dark nipples. Joyce could feel herself pool as she ran her fingers through the hair of the man who was sucking and nibbling at her sensitive teats. She moaned out loud as Franco nipped them with his teeth. God! She wanted his cock! She pushed him away from her and bent down towards his groin. But she found Franco’s strong hands on her shoulders pulling her straight again.

“Oh no,” said the man, “you’re my African princess tonight. I get on my knees to you!”

Even on his knees, Franco’s head was nearly at her breasts. He kissed the curve of her belly then put his hands on the waistband of her pants, pulling them over her broad buttocks and down her thighs. His hands squeezed her backside as he kissed and nuzzled at her mound through the thin cotton of her panties. Joyce felt her breath quicken as she rocked her hips against Franco’s face.

Franco took the waistband of her panties in his teeth and pulled down so that he could rub his nose in her black wiry curls. “Oh fuck, yes!” she heard him sigh, “What a sexy fucking hairy cunt!” Joyce thrilled at the sound of his sexy accent – the rolled r’s on ‘hairy’ made it sound so naughty. Oh, she was glad now she hadn’t found the time to shave!

Her knickers joined her pants at her ankles and Joyce stood, naked in the room with her lover on his knees in front of her, her head buried in her lap. Franco’s strong fingers were stroking her thighs now and she felt his long tongue make a slippery incursion into the crease of her vulva. She felt her juices dribble as he poked and licked at her slippery crack.

Franco gently lifted one of her feet and pulled off her bunched clothes so that he could get her legs further apart to put his head between them. Joyce enjoyed the sensation of his pulling at her pubes with his teeth and mouthing at her melting minge. Her breath was quickening as jolts of joys buzzed in her core. “Oh God…” she moaned as Franco’s lips closed on her clit. She was so close, she was going to come with this man under her twat, licking and nipping at her love-bud.

Joyce put her hands behind Franco’s head, pushing his face up into her muff as she bore down on him with her hips. Her orgasm exploded in her like dam bursting. Hearing Franco gag on her gushing juices made her laugh out loud. She was dizzy and crazy from a powerful coming.

“On the bed,” Franco commanded, “On your hands and knees.”

Joyce obeyed and Franco, behind her, stroked and caressed her smooth round bum.

“Fucking incredible arse you’ve got, girlie.” Joyce shuddered at the sound: the r in arse was almost as sexy as the r in hairy. “Big, sexy, beautiful fucking….arse!” He was teasing her, deliberately, making her wait before rolling the r on arse.

She felt a finger trace the crack of her butt, a slow, sensual, teasing touch that stopped and lingered over the crinkled pucker of her anus. She let go an involuntary whimper as Franco’s finger rubbed and tickled the rubbery ring. The feeling was delicious, “Fuck,” she moaned.

“Not yet, princess, soon,” crooned Franco, his finger turning tiny circles at her hole. “You have a really pretty, horny, tight little arsehole….”

Joyce was no fan of anal, but, she thought to herself, I’d do it tonight, just hear him say ‘arsehole’ again, passionately, as he was coming. Mmmmmmm.  “Yes, yes, yes,” she heard herself breathe.

The finger stroked her tender taint before hovering over her hot cunny. Franco gave a throaty chuckle. “Gorgeous….” Joyce felt the finger on her cunt lips replaced by the smooth roundness of the tip of Franco’s cock. She smiled in the darkness.

He grabbed her hips and gently probed her with his hot tool. Joyce let go a little breathe. Franco’s thrusts were shallow and gentle, gradually opening her, shifting slowly but inexorably, moving by millimetres into her slippery twat. She found herself pushing against him, wanting more, wanting him to fill her completely. “Oh God, yes,” she gasped, “That’s it, go on, all the way, all the way, all the way.”

Joyce realized that she was still begging for him to go all the way when it was obvious he had gone as far as he could! She stopped herself laughing at the thought of this huge tall man without the cock to match!

If Franco sensed her amusement, it didn’t trouble him and he began to take long slow swipes. Drawing his cock completely out and shoving it all the way back, in a controlled, gradual motion. Joyce rocked to his rhythm, grinding hard against his thrusts.

She began to feel that as Franco fucked he changed his angle with every push – the thrusting phallus was touching her in so many places - it felt amazing! He might not have a big cock, but he knew what do with what he’d got! She felt her fanny tingle and buzz as her juices began to flow.

“Aye,” Franco growled, “That’s it girlie! Fuck that cock! Fuck it with your sexy, fucking hairy cunt!”

Oh fuck, thought Joyce, the sound of his accent brought another unexpected thrill. Shivers of hot ice zipped from her core through her whole being. God, she was close. Franco started to quicken his pace.

He rutted like a bull with a heifer, grunting and panting. She could hear the sound of her wetness splashing and plopping as pulled and pushed his straining member in and out with ferocity. His big hands reached around to cup and squeeze her hanging breasts, tugging and rolling her nipples. An orgasm of millennial proportion was building all through her body; little lights were dancing before her eyes. A hand slid over her belly, down to her muff, where a strong finger twinged at her swollen clitoris.

“Ready princess? Ready for a sperming? Ready for my fucking hot come-cream?” Franco breathed, hoarse with lust.

“Yesyesyesyesyes! Now. Nooooooooow!”

As Franco’s spunk shot up into her core, Joyce couldn’t hold back the howl that emanated from the pit of her soul.

Franco tried to shoosh her and put his hand over her mouth, but this just made Joyce laugh hysterically. Her arms wobbled and she collapsed on the bed.

Franco falling on top of her made his cock plop out of her with an audible pop. This made her laugh even more, which got Franco laughing as they lay there, Joyce flat on her tummy and Franco on top of her giggling like children.

When the laughter subsided, Franco slid off her and stretched on her bed. Sticky and shiny with sweat and sex.

Joyce rolled lazily onto her back, her body tingling and her mind fuzzy in an orgasmic miasma. As she opened her knees she felt his semen slip from her sopping slit and trace a slimy trail over her perineum, across her anus and down her ample buttocks. The sensation made her giggle.

“Nice?” said the man.

“Oh yes,” she replied, “very nice indeed.”

By the lights of the city outside she could see him prop himself up on one elbow and stare at her naked form.

“Gorgeous,” he said, “you are simple gorgeous….”

The sound of his voice and the warmth of his compliment made Joyce’s smile widen in the dark room.

“Not too bad yourself, Hottie,” she chuckled.

His long pale fingers were tracing slow circles on the soft round rise of her belly. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the gentle ministrations on her hot, perspiring skin.

She felt a tender kiss on her forehead. “You’ve not had your present yet, princess.” he murmured.

“Present?”

“Wait.” And with that Francisco got up from her sweat-soaked sheets and padded naked across her bedroom floor.

 

Franco returned with a wide flat parcel, beautifully wrapped in foil paper. Joyce sat up on the bed, oddly self-conscious. “Thank you,” she stammered.

“I wouldn’t be so impolite as to come to you empty-handed,” Franco chuckled, “I think you’ll like these.”

Peeling off the shiny wrapping to reveal a huge box of chocolates, Joyce whooped in delight! “Oh thank you, Francisco! Just what I feel like now!”

“Sensual delights from the finest Belgian chocolatiers,” said Franco as he picked one and popped it into Joyce’s mouth. “I want to thrill you inside and out….”

The rich sweet taste made her taste buds ring and Joyce felt wonderfully complete: the humming heat of her pussy; her tender nipples tingling after being pulled and bitten; even the secret pucker of her asshole (aRsehole...mmmmmm) was prickling in delight. And now chocolate! Joyce was in heaven.

“These are amazing!” Joyce said as she ate another of the tasty treats.

“Only the best for my princess,” Franco rejoined, “But it is so hot here, they are inclined to melt….” And he took a chocolate in his hand and started to rub it on one of Joyce’s nipples.

Joyce giggled as Franco rubbed the melting mess into her wide aureole and over her stiffening teat. Then he took another and did the same on the other side. Another chocolate was rubbed, melting over her breast – soon the smell of the chocolate assaulted her senses.

Franco continued to smooth melting chocolates over her nipples and tits: squeezing, pushing, pinching and rolling the flesh in his strong hands, sticky with messy melted chocolate. Joyce lay back and enjoyed the attention while, with Franco’s encouragement, she ate chocolate after chocolate. Her whole body was buzzing with erotic sensations. Oh God, let this night last, she thought.

“Tell me, princess,” came a whisper, “do you suffer from thrush?”

“Huh?”

“Yeast, honey, do you ever get troubled by yeast?”

Joyce thought this an odd question for now. “Um, you know, sometimes…”

“Okay,” Franco said, “I’d best not spread this chocolate further down…”

“Whoa! Just wait a damn minute, Franco, did you want to put chocolate in my pussy?”

“That was the idea.”

Joyce parted her strong thighs, she felt her cunny open and beads of her juice drip onto the sheets, “I’ll take my chances, boy, fill her up!”

Franco laughed and handed her a truffle, “You make a start, I need to get another little something.” He climbed off the bed and went back to his bags.

Joyce snorted, but put the treat against her soaking slit. The idea was just too damn sexy! Joyce let loose a whimper as the sweet melted and she stroked down, letting her ring finger touch her anus gently. “Yess,” she sighed.

“I could watch you touch yourself all night, princess,” Franco husked as he re-entered the room, “All night and all day. You are such a gorgeous sexy woman.”

Joyce grinned at Franco’s compliment, and slipped two fingers into her wet hole. “You like to watch, Hottie?” she purred, “I can give you a show….”

Franco laughed with delighted lust, but shook his head, “Maybe later, baby…there’s a small matter of pleasing my princess with chocolate….” And he opened a long triangular box, “Toblerone,” he said as he knelt between her knees with the thick ridged chocolate bar.

 

Joyce put her hands between her legs and held her fanny-lips open as Franco teased her hole with the thick triangular bar. Her heat soon melted the edges and Franco started to fill her cunt with Swiss chocolate! Joyce gave a low moan as he pushed and pulled, the top ridges of the bar were bumping and nudging at her clit; Franco shoved the bar in some more. Joyce began to pant with lust, then yelped in surprise as Franco broke the Tobelerone in half.

He grinned as he handed her the melting candy, “This is your bit – you eat this, while I eat the rest.” Franco lowered his face to her chocolate-filled cunt.

Joyce bit a triangle off the end, the sweet milky taste combined with the odd bitterness of the almonds was delightful. Even more delightful was feeling of Franco’s mouth, sucking at her twat. He licked at her like cat with the cream, scoffing chocolate as it slipped from her sopping hole.

Chocolate was melting and dribbling simultaneously in her mouth and her minge. Franco licked and lapped and sucked the sticky stuff, now blended with her puss-juice. Joyce could feel the orgasm, still singing from last time, begin build up.

Franco’s mouth was all over her vulva, chewing and nipping at her plump outer lips, sucking and pinching at her swollen flaps, flicking his tongue-tip at her buzzing clitty. Joyce could feel warmth fill her chocolate coated chest as hear breathing quickened. Franco’s tongue-strokes matched her gasping breaths and she rocked her hips to his rhythmic licking. The smell and taste of chocolate made her head spin with sensory pleasure and lightning bolts of lust shot through her body from deep in her core.

Her orgasm was an explosion of chocolate and cunnilingus fueled fireworks as Franco rammed his long tongue deep inside her.

She was still floating when Franco kissed her mouth, the taste of cunt and chocolate on his lips and beard was too much! She felt herself gush.

“My turn now, princess,” Franco husked as he straddled her ribs, his cock hard and sticky again, positioned between her breasts. “I want to fuck your tits, girlie, fuck your big gorgeous boobs until I spunk them.”

Joyce almost choked with laughter, “I knew it! I knew that was what you’d want! I..ulp!” Franco stopped her mouth with a tasty chocolate, laughing.

“So let’s do it princess, get those rascals around my old cock!”

She wrapped her boobs around his throbbing pole and Franco bucked and thrust, all the time pinching and twisting her hard thick nipples.

Joyce relished the power she had over her man, who was so obviously enjoying her big, firm breasts. She giggled as she watched the pink, slippery head pop and dive in her cleavage, becoming streaked with brown from her chocolate coated titties. She craned her neck so she could lick the glans on the upward thrusts. Mmmmm - cock and chocolate!

“Mmmm. Cock and chocolate,” she heard herself say out loud. “What every woman wants more of!”

“Yes, my beauty,” grunted Franco, “and you have everything any man could want! Big –thrust – round – thrust – arse. Tight – thrust – little – thrust – arsehole. Sexy – thrust – hairy – thrust – cunt and fucking -  thrust -  gorgeous –thrust – big – thrust – perfect – thrust – tits!”

She threw her head back and laughed.

At that moment, Franco ejaculated a ribbon of hot semen that shot over her throat and splashed on her chin. He was rigid for a moment, gripping her tits like some licentious statue, then he gasped and tumbled beside her panting and laughing.

“You are the best, princess,” he breathed, “wonderful, sexy lady. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Hottie,” Joyce giggled as she pushed herself up and threw her leg over Franco’s wide body, “I owe you a little show...” She planted her thighs either side of Franco’s belly and leaned over him to switch on the bedside lamp, her tits brushing his sweating beardy face.

In the light she could see his eyes drink in her body – it was obvious he couldn’t get enough off her. She looked down at her dark mahogany breasts, now streaked with sperm and chocolate, the sight made her chuckle. With her hands she rubbed the sticky mess all over her bosom, lifting her breasts in her sticky hands and pulling her nipples. Franco moaned in lustful appreciation. His hands stroked the flesh of her sides as pushed her boobs together, lifted them and let them fall. Then with exquisite slowness, her hands traced spermy-choccy patterns on her tummy, making a sweet sticky trail to her sex.

Joyce found the tangled sugary mess of her pubic hair oddly exciting; the wiry little curls had been dragged into sticky peaks and twists. She cupped her mound in palm of her hand and rubbed, back and forth: Franco gazing in open-mouthed lasciviousness.

Her gliding fingers found her pussy lips stickier than usual as melted chocolate continued to descend from her core. The thought of it made her shudder, and on a whim, to Franco’s moaning delight, she took her fingers to her mouth and licked and sucked. Oh….

“Cunt and chocolate” Franco groaned, “ a taste of heaven, eh?”

Oh God. She thought. The taste. The sound. The very idea! She could feel herself going again and quickly put her fingers to her clitoris. Franco was gripping her buttocks now as she ground her hips, wanking her sticky quim with strong, quick strokes. Her orgasm sent a flood of melted chocolate and girl juice all over Franco’s big white belly and she collapsed on top of him shivering in sexual exhaustion.

Franco held her close, kissing her gently until her breathing calmed and the shivering stopped. Joyce put her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself up. Franco was beaming at her, which brought a flush of pleasure to Joyce, but in the light of the table lamp she could see the mess they had made of the bed. Her crisp white sheets were now rumpled in sweaty knots, steaked with chocolate and stained with sex!

“Good God! Look at the mess! What must you think of me,” she heard herself say. She almost slapped herself for saying out loud, but Franco just laughed.

“The sign of an evening well spent, my beauty.”

“I’d better clean up,” she announced, thinking suddenly of her little boy witnessing this sex and sweet-treat tsunami.

Joyce jumped off the bed and quickly went to the bathroom to wash her hands – she would shower later she thought – she peeped into Divine’s room, but he was still snoring gently, cuddling his little dog toy.

To her surprise, when she got to the bedroom, Franco had stripped the bed as deftly as he had stripped her and was holding the bedding in a tight roll.

“Where’s your washing machine?” he asked.

“You can use a washing machine?” Joyce asked incredulously.

“Oh aye,” said Franco, “just don’t ask me to do the ironing.”

“I’ve heard of men that can operate a washing machine, I’ve just never met one in person,” giggled Joyce, “it’s in the kitchen. If you want me to show you ….”

But Franco was off through the bedroom door. Joyce fetched out some clean bedding, but as she passed her mirror she saw how grubby she was. A proud African Princess indeed. But her gorgeous mahogany skin was covered in chocolate and come!

When Franco came back to the bedroom, the hum of the washer following in his wake (to Joyce’s mild surprise) she noted that he was also chocolate and come coated.

“I’ve really got to shower, Franco,” she said.

“We’ll shower together,” he smiled.

She knew that was a mistake…well…kind of.

She knew as soon as she felt Franco soap her broad back, that he’d soon be soaping her breasts. And once he was there she just knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until the bar of soap was frothing in her pubes and slipping in and out of her cunny. Okay, she didn’t expect Franco to pick her up and fuck her standing, her legs around his back, his hands grasping her bum, there in the shower.  But that final blissful moment as they came together, her back against the tiles and the warm water cascading over their coupling bodies, was a moment of sheer shared joy!

Later, as they lay entwined in a close embrace in the hot Lagos night, on the freshly made bed, Joyce suddenly realized that her lover would be gone in the morning.

“Franco, baby. Will you have to leave for your conference ‘plane early or late.”

His body stiffened a little, then he took her face in both hands, looked in her eyes and said, “Joyce, I’m really sorry. I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

“What? What do you mean.” A butterfly of panic fluttered in her heart.

“There is no conference.”

“What?” Joyce was confused.

“I’m really sorry, Joyce, I was desperate to see you. I made it up.”

“You did what?” now she was angry, but…

“The only reason I’m here is you. But I’ll go as soon as you want me to.”

The ball of conflicting emotions came out in the only way it should. Joyce laughed, long and hearty.

And then they slept.

 

The following morning was once again a scene of domesticity. Joyce served breakfast to her son and her house guest and they chatted politely as such people do in their appropriate roles.

“Did you dream, sweetheart?” she enquired of Divine.

“I think so Mamma,” replied the little boy, “I think I was at a party. Well I think it was. And Mr Francisco was there. And you were there. And there was laughing. Laughing all the time. Oh yeah. And there was lots and lots of …. chocolate.”


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