In The Stars

by Volponia

© 1998-2001, All Rights Reserved.

The rumors of black men's sexual superiority didn't draw Dana to Jem. She had supposed, and gossiping with more adventurous girlfriends supported her, that the rumors were just generalities based on specifics.

No, what made Jem so irresistible was his appeal to Dana's senses. And since they were both reporters, working the same hours at the "Star," she had plenty of opportunity to savor that appeal

His voice was so lazy and intimate, deep yet sweet, it reminded her of a honeybee drowsing and drowning in nectar. His skin was the most beautiful shade of deep chocolate. If she looked really closely, as she did whenever his hand came to rest next to her computer keyboard as they discussed a story she was writing, she could see other colors hinted at within the deep brown pigment: castings of gold and purple and a deep, rich red.

Whenever she leaned over his keyboard, though, she was most taken by his smell: sweet yet spicy and sparked with the faintest tang of mansweat.

But what really drove Dana over the edge of desire was his mouth. Jem's lips were of a type she had seen on black models of both sexes. The technical term, she'd discovered, was 'everted.' But what a cold word for such a warm, beautiful sight! His lips curved outward like a flower; they were full and ripe and pink against the brown of his face. They blossomed; they seemed to swell as did the lips of her sex whenever she thought of him.

So, without even wondering whether he was attracted to her, Dana decided she had to make a move on Jem.

One night, when the two of them were alone in the newsroom, she made a great show of flexing her shoulders repeatedly, rubbing her neck and sighing occasionally. She got the desired result: Jem noticed

"Got a stiff neck?"

"Oh, yeah, guess I've been at it too long ... "

"Uh, would you like me to rub it for you?"

"Gotcha!" she thought. "Great!" she said.

Jem moved behind her chair and placed his long, sensitive hands on her shoulders. Dana lifted her heavy mass of chestnut hair, revealing the pale column of her neck. He began to massage her, digging his thumbs into the muscles on either side of her spine, curving his fingers into the ridges just above her collarbone.

"Mmmmm," Dana sighed. "That's wonderful! I'll give you ten years to stop ... "

Jem chuckled and increased the pressure. Dana rolled her shoulders back until they 'accidentally' touched his trousers just below the belt line. She pretended not to notice. Judging from the sudden tremor of his fingers, Jem noticed, all right.

Dana sighed again, and let her fingers play through her hair. Soon, she had another 'accident' -- she let her hair run through her fingers and drop to her shoulders. Reaching back to retrieve it, she made sure her knuckles grazed against the fly of Jem's chinos. She felt a bulge there, and was sure it wasn't all zipper.

"Uh, Dana? How does that feel?" Jem asked, an unfamiliar note of uncertainty coloring his voice.

"Fine, just fine," she answered, and then swivelled around in her chair so that she was suddenly face to crotch with her coworker. "But it could be even better."

Jem backed up a step. "What do you mean?"

"Are you taken, Jem?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are you spoken for? Do you like women? Do you like *me*?"

"No; yes; sure I do," was Jem's confused response.

"How would you feel about making love to me?"

"How do you think?" he asked, gesturing toward the sizable bulge in his trousers.

"Come on," she said. "It's time for a coffee break."

Taking Jem by the hand, Dana led him to the deserted break room, where the last of that day's coffee was still warming and the old green leather couch beckoned.

Dana gently shoved Jem down, hiked up her skirt and straddled him, planting her cotton-covered pussy on top of his shrouded cock.

"I've been wanting to taste you for ages," she murmured. She gently placed her hands on either side of his square jaw, with her thumbs caressing the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, those lips, like blossoms begging to be picked," she thought. Bending her head, Dana took her first sip. He was delicious. She slipped her tongue between his lips, where it met his own tongue and did a delicate dance of desire.

She caressed his ears with dainty fingers, and pressed her breasts against his chest. Jem's hands went to her hips and pulled her even closer; he spread his knees and arched his pelvis, and they ground into each other in the age-old dry-hump tango of forgotten foreplay.

Things were heating up; the spicy smell of Jem's skin grew more intense, and tiny seed pearls of moisture formed on his forehead.

Dana pulled back slightly and whispered two words: "Love me."

Lifting her from his lap, Jem gently deposited Dana on the couch. He caressed her face, her throat, her breasts with one hand while he fumbled through the unfastening of his trousers with the other.

He needed both hands to get them off, though, and while he stripped, Dana drew her sweater over her head, flung her brassiere off and pulled her skirt all the way up.

What met Jem's eager eyes was not what you see in lingerie ads or Playboy pictorials. Dana was wearing simple, white cotton schoolgirl panties. But she was in them, and she felt sexy, so they looked sexy.

Jem placed one hand, palm down, on her mound. He admired the stark contrast between his dark skin and the soft white fabric. He pressed her sex and made circles on it with the palm of his hand. Dana moaned her approval.

Then, he drew her panties down as gently as if he were peeling a peach and didn't want to bruise its tender flesh. He threw them in a bunch on the floor. And there she was -- milky thighs that rose to join her torso at a moist delta crowned with chestnut curls.

"Dana, Dana," he muttered.

"Come to mama," she cooed.

And so he did. Jem lifted Dana's left leg and held it in the crook of his right arm. With his left hand, he presented himself to her.

His was not a cock of mythic proportions. It was perhaps six inches long and sufficiently thick so that his thumb and fingertips just met as he grasped it.

Dana reached out to guide him into her; as she'd expected, the gleaming head was soft as velvet and slippery as satin.

Together, they found the opening to Dana's sex and placed the crown of his cock at the entrance. Jem then brushed away her guiding hand impatiently, and, baptized in her wetness, plunged full-length into her.

Dana's sheath closed on Jem's cock like a velvet glove. He groaned; she moaned. Trembling, he pulled almost all the way out, drawing from Dana a mewl of protest. He waited for what seemed like minutes, then drove himself back into her to the hilt.

His throbbing cock head nudged the muscular ring of her cervix, and Dana cried out in mingled pain and pleasure. Startled, Jem drew back, but she clutched his hips and cried for more.

Dana's mating call affected Jem like the cheering crowd affects a base runner: He headed for home. Steadily, steadily, fast, then slow, then fast again, he pistoned his swollen cock into her melting pussy.

Soon, he felt her inner muscles tighten like a fist. Her thighs stiffened; her head went back; her eyes were screwed shut and her mouth opened as if to scream. Then, with a shudder, she came.

Spasm after spasm rolled through her belly and pussy. Dana's orgasm was the spark to Jem's fuse. With a groan that rose from the soles of his feet, he made one last mighty thrust and poured himself into her.

The pulsations of his cock against her clit sent Dana into another round of shuddering, sparking orgasms. When they both were spent, they lay collapsed in a moist heap, the only sound their mingled, labored breathing.

Propping himself on his elbows, Jem gazed into Dana's hazel eyes.

"Wow," he said. "What brought that on?"

Dana looked back at him with a steady gaze. "My horoscope," she said. "It told me that today was the day to make my dreams come true.

"So I guess this was inevitable; it was written in "The Star."

BIOGRAPHY - Volponia Foxglove, once an itinerant Sunday School superintendent for the First Church of the Gooey Death and Discount House of Worship, changed careers some three years ago. Having recognized that the unexamined life is not worth living, she examined hers and found it wanting. So she turned her back on a life of Good Works and applied herself diligently to her first love: smut. She has earned at least $37 so far via web publication of her work, and sees a bright future ahead -- or maybe that's just the medication kicking in.

Background provided by Bobbie Peachey, About's Web Clip Art Guide.

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