It had been nearly a week since Trent proposed to his now-fiancée. There was another pressing matter among the many sacrament-related thoughts on his mind. He was incredibly horny. Trent had spent the past month on a strict sexual sabbatical, which included no self-gratification. Trent's plan was simple, impress Roxanne with what could only be described as a storybook proposal, and part of his reward would be a night of sweet sexual bliss. A night where both Trent and Roxanne's inhibitions could be thrown to the wind, leading to two melting chocolate bodies writhing in ecstasy.
Unfortunately for Trent, this had not happened the night of the proposal or the following nights. As Trent prepared for a celebratory engagement dinner later that night with his new fiancée, Roxanne, and her best friend Andrea-there was an uncomfortable intensifying feeling in his groin. Trent's testicles were a dam at the brink of overflowing, and so too were his testicles swelling with passion yearning to be released.
Trent thought about these feelings while fixing his hair in the vanity in his apartment, his caramel athletic frame glistening in the light from the fresh shower. He wondered if he should just stroke one out quickly to eliminate the overwhelming sensation of busting a load. Thoughts of his chocolate Nubian goddess began to run wild in his head. Particularly her plump booty that one could argue was good enough reason to marry her. Trent quickly shook these thoughts off while curling his hair and contemplating just how dressed up he would get for this dinner. As a slightly petty person, Trent decided that if he were going to be sexually frustrated, he would not be alone.
Trent picked out his tight-fit navy-blue polo that hugged his muscles while accentuating his chest. This was in addition to the black dress pants that clasped his thighs and outlined not only his tiny but shapely round butt; it also displayed the bulge that was his crotch. Trent grabbed his car keys with a smirk and sinister intent on his mind.
If there was one thing about Trent, he hated being late. His mind ran like an oven timer, on-time meant the perfect meal, while late meant burnt and hungry. Usually, this fueled his more than the rare occurrence of speeding down I-75 as if he were at the Daytona 500. Trent loved driving with the window down, especially at night. The feeling of the cold night air brushing against his face was always a mood.
But even this sensation could not override the erection still looming in his pants. Trent pushed the pedal further, going 85 in a 55, trying to escape the torture lying just below the surface of his clothes. He began to feel his precum wetness touching his inner thigh and wondered if the spot would start to bleed through his pants as it had in the past. Trent shifted his focus towards the cold night air hitting his face while his brown eyes scanned for potential patrol vehicles. The back of his mind wondered just how soaked he would be when he arrived at his destination.
Roxanne, by Trent's standards, did not live far. For anyone else, on the other hand, a thirty to forty-minute drive is not exactly appealing. But after a relaxed night drive, he had arrived, on time for that matter. Trent parked his car in the overcrowded driveway as usual. He inspected his nether regions before exiting his Chevy to see how much damage he had done. "Not exactly a water park, but not a spilled glass of water either." Trent thought to himself. Trent gave himself a minute to air out and dry before he went and knocked on the door to the massive two-story home. His now soon-to-be sister-in-law Jen let him in.
Roxanne was still in the process of getting ready upstairs, "shocking," Trent sarcastically thought to himself. Trent did his rounds of the typical hellos to the future family while waiting for the love of his life to descend the stairs. "Who let you in?" Trent heard the familiar voice coming from the top of the stairs. Reflexively, Trent said "your mom" jokingly, as he had done to his brother and his brother had to him many times. But as Trent began to look up the stairs, as he heard the sound of Roxanne descending them, he caught a glimpse of the beauty that is his fiancée.
Roxanne had decided to go with a light grey plaid dress and a black turtleneck. The length of said dress immediately grabbed Trent's attention, which showed 80% of Roxanne's 5'7 chocolate legs for days. As Roxanne descended the stairs, Trent's eyes followed her legs up to where her dress began. Thankfully, Trent did a gentleman's tuck of his equipment right before entering the house.
"Why would my mom do that?" Roxanne asked jokingly with a slight grin on her face. Trent desperately tried to focus on his retort and not on how Roxanne's dress hugged every delectable curve of her body. From hips and thighs to her round butt and beautiful breast.
Trent quickly snapped out of it before his stomach turned into a swimming pool of his juices, "because she loves me, of course. Why else?" Trent replied.
"Very well," Roxanne said while moving towards the downstairs mirror in the dining room, "I just need to finish my lashes, and we can go."
"Can't wait," Trent stated. "I knew we were going to be late," Trent thought.
Surely enough, they were on their way after ten or so more minutes and a fur jacket later. As Trent drove them to the restaurant, he could still feel the pulses of his member pressed against his stomach and touching his belly button.
"At least I'm dry for the moment," Trent thought. The car ride to the restaurant was relatively quiet, with a few sporadic conversations here and there. Trent's mind raced with ambitious thoughts of lust and conquest fast enough to catch the 80 miles per hour car he was driving. Trent's eyes might have been focused on the road. Still, his mind fluctuated between the directions on his phone and the mouthwatering dark lips hidden away betwixt Roxanne's thick with two c's thighs.
It was not helping that midway through the drive, she had placed her hand on his lap and began caressing, "probing for an erection, I'm sure," Trent thought. These slight strokes of his thigh sent pulse racing up towards his still erect penis, causing it to twitch in place as if begging for proper attention. Surely enough, like a bloodhound catching its scent, Roxanne moved her hand ever so slowly and slightly upwards towards Trent's crotch.
Trent's mind was divided between the anticipation of soon-to-be penile contact and the cars passing by him. He watched as her delicately soft hand began shifting, freshly painted pink nails leading the way. Trent often pictured Roxanne's hands wrapped around his member and the contrast the nail colors tended to provide against his skin as she stroked it. That thought was now in his mind as he glanced at Roxanne's hand placement.
"What's this?" Roxanne asked slyly as she found Trent's erection tucked away against his stomach.
"A true wolf in sheep's clothing," Trent thought. Before he could even conceptualize a witty remark, Roxanne had already worked her index finger and thumb around the tip of Trent's member. Roxanne glided her thumb right over the entrance, rubbing Trent's precum and spreading it around the tip of his head. This act was not just customary for her to do. It was sport. Roxanne gained true pleasure and gratification from watching Trent squirm with pent-up sexual frustration that could not yet be released.
And despite Trent's good poker face, his member had none. With each passing glide of Roxanne's thumb on his tip, Trent's insatiable itch for sexual release grew. Trent could not be mad at Roxanne either; he loved that she was a closet freak. As the urge to act grew exponentially, Roxanne stopped, and Trent watched as she took her hand back and placed her thumb in her mouth to taste his wetness.
"Just a little taste before dinner," Roxanne said with a sly but victorious look in her eyes.
Trent's mind was nearly consumed with wanting just a taste of Roxanne's essence, but they were at the restaurant before he knew it. Trent and Roxanne parked in the 3rd-floor parking garage attached to the sprawling outdoor downtown Miami shopping mall. The mall was laced with Christmas decorations that were beautifully lit up since it was nighttime when they arrived. The mall center had an enormous Christmas tree where patrons lined up to take photos.
Trent checked his watch, thinking, "alright, not too late," as he looked up from his watch, he again saw the way Roxanne's dress clung to her sculpted bottom. "Just another inch or so, and that thing would be out in the wind," Trent thought. He followed Roxanne as she led the way to the Kilo Lounge, a more up-scale sports restaurant. They met with Andrea outside the restaurant and exchanged pleasantries; Andrea congratulated them on their recent engagement.
Soon enough, after 5 minutes of waiting, they were led to their table, a dimly lit booth in the back of the restaurant. Roxanne sat on the inner side of the booth, with Andrea sitting across from both. At this point, Trent was becoming mentally exhausted from the heightened levels of sexual torture that had befallen him thus far. For the next twenty minutes, he was in autopilot mode.
Trent let Roxanne and Andrea do all the talking and catching up with him, adding only slight but typical male responses, grumbles, and head nods. The energy to engage was not there. They had gotten their drinks, mixed alcohol for the gals and straight beer for Trent, and we're now waiting for their meals. Roxanne had removed her jacket because the restaurant was warm, given the outside weather.
Roxanne and Andrea continued to chat, and while Trent began drinking his beer to calm his nerves, something seized his attention out of the corner of his eye. Trent had not noticed until that moment how far Roxanne's dress rode up while she was sitting down. The gap between the table and the back of the booth chair was not huge but workable. Trent leaned a bit forward as if to listen in closer to the girls' conversation. Still, his eyes were examined for the right angle with every look away glance.
"Bingo!" Trent thought Trent's eyes had located the right angle to see right up Roxanne's dress! With every glance away from the conversation, Trent's glance would penetrate the occasional gap between Roxanne's voluptuous chocolate thighs to see her pink lace thong underwear.
"Hmm, matching her nails" crossed Trent's mind. Trent scoped out the restaurant for the waiter. She had been to the table maybe five minutes ago.
"I should have a good five to ten minutes," Trent thought. Trent then sat back in the booth, and while sipping his beer with his left hand, he placed his right hand on Roxanne's exposed thigh. At first, he did the usual rub back and forth of endearment, but little by little, his hand inched closer and closer to Roxanne's center.
"Why hello," Trent thought as he made contact with Roxanne's center. To his surprise, there was a warmth radiating from her already. While Trent casually chimed in on the conversation between the two women, his eyes scoped for passing restaurant employees. Roxanne was defenseless, she didn't want to make a scene, but she also didn't want Trent to stop. Roxanne put her jacket over her lap effortlessly without drawing attention to the motion.
Trent shot her a quick and meaningful glance "oh, okay," Trent thought. Trent used his index and ring fingers to part Roxanne's legs to give him enough space to slide his middle finger against her center. Trent then began slow circular motions rubbing Roxanne's center, and he felt his finger pressed against her clit as it brushed her lips. The warmth radiating began to grow, and Roxanne was putting on a good show.
