I know Rae as being a quiet women. I like quiet. She has a voice that's soft, light, silken. Her words are kind, simple and smart. And then there's her body, it shouts suggestive, mischievous, naughtiness, improper.
Rae works evenings at the Trident coffee and second hand book store in downtown Boulder. I don't see her elsewhere, just there. Tonight a fragile cotton sundress clings to her extreme feminine figure. A white dress accented by needle point work of blue at the collar, along side where buttons are sewn and around the hem line. A dress which is in searing contradiction to her black pearl eyes. Adding to her allure are long legs and the low cut cowgirl boots she's wearing, a common site in the city, part Colorado history and part Boulder fashion scene. It's punishing not to stare at Rae, pure chocolate Rae.
I'm a man who adores women of color. And I've been fortunate to have fucked a few, too few. Whenever an attractive black woman seizes my attention my mind impulsively evokes visions of sharply defined pink, extremely pink womanhoods. Womanhoods in striking contrast to the backgrounds of cocoa skin.
I see my cock, my white cock against the dark fill in anticipation of piercing their wet supple openings, relishing them till my thick semen is imposed deep into their chambers only to spill out slow as I make my exits.
Besides handling purchases, it is in Rae's job duties to stock used books by category. Watching her organize and place books in their rightful homes is gratifying. Her squatting, getting down on her knees, up on her toes, bent at the waist, reaching high, makes my dick leak. Depending on her chosen wardrobe for the evening, occasionally a partial breast, her belly or deep inner thigh may become briefly exposed. A peek now will later fuel the hand that strokes my dick till I alone empty myself in the coming nights.
If I was a carny guessing weights and ages at a shopping center parking lot carnival, I would guesstimate her to be 20 years old and 110 pounds. Too I think, maybe 5'7". Her coarse hair is braided long and without extensions, it's all her hair. I know because I've been schooled on hair extensions by a black woman I was fucking last year.
"Those are extensions, not her real hair. Look right there, that's where they attached. That tie in."
Rae's lips are full and extra fleshy. Her opened mouth is enticing, tempting. Her breasts sit high and firm on her chest with an inviting cleavage in jeopardy of being separated by a thick hard-on at any moment.
Unexpectedly one evening she, without warning, sat down quick and hard on the empty chair across from me, so hard my coffee spilled some.
"Hi."
"Hi back." As calm as I could manage. Not acting startled.
"What are you doing later tonight?" She asked.
"I haven't thought that far ahead." Glancing at the clock on the wall while finishing my thought,
"Even though it is, just hours away."
