A couple of things you should know about me: I'm not gay; I've always had this thing for dark-skinned women.
I graduated from the army at age 21 and headed home to the Bronx. Me and a buddy of mine started up a livery car service. We started with four cars. 15 years later, we had 100 cars and almost 200 drivers. We became the biggest car service in New York City. I got married at 23 - - to my best friend's sister. Rosie and w split up 10 years and three kids later. At age 36, I married Veronica, a 25 year-old dark-skinned Dominican woman, the sister of one of my drivers. Unfortunately, I spent the night before my 40th birthday in Atlantic City with Lucia, Veronica's 22 year-old niece. When Veronica found out, we ended up in divorce court. I'd had enough of the Bronx, enough of the 9 to 9, and enough of the same old faces. At 41, I sold my piece of the business for a hefty chunk of change to my partner. Then, I fulfilled a long-standing dream: I moved to a beach bungalow in Antigua, where I now live 8 months of the year. I keep an apartment in the Bronx and a house in upstate New York where I spend part of the summer.
I'd only been in Antigua, settling into a lazy, carefree life of beach, beer, and broads, for four or five months when my childhood friend, Rocco, flew down for a week. Rocco got bored fast, so on his second night we hit the local tourist clubs. My favorite pick-up spot was a joint called Juniors, a place with mellow lighting, a great bartender, and most weeks an assortment of gals staying across the road in the local 2 star resort.
On the night in question, Rocco and I were lounging at the bar talking to Bev, the bartender, and eyeing the imported flesh. I was joking with Bev about the sexiness of Jamaican women when Rocco elbowed me.
Check 'em out, said Rocco, as he gestured to a group of women entering the bar.
I swiveled toward the door and smiled in appreciation. A group of three women had just entered, each dressed to the nines and strutting their stuff like they meant business. All of the gals were tall and slender, but my attention was taken by the really cute black girl sandwiched between her two blonde friends. She was tall, slender, really dark-skinned with a wide mouth and big brown eyes. Her sundress was cut low to reveal two lovely tits and she swayed into the bar on the longest legs I'd ever seen.
Rocco and I waited for the girls to sit down and then I sent over an order of Beachcombers, Junior's proprietary concoction guaranteed to get a buzz on before the first sip went down. The waiter waved to us and then the girls waved. Rocco and I left the bar and joined the three women at their table.
I sat down next to the black girl, Rocco next to one of her blonde friends. This black chick gave me the kind of big, warm smile that sends a shiver down your dick. I slid next to her until our thighs were touching. Her name, she told me in a deep, sultry voice, was Jen. She was from cold, snowy Chicago and was dying to have some fun over the next four days. We joked around about Chicago and about the resort she was staying at. She asked me if I liked to dance and before I knew it, we were grooving together to some deep, slow reggae.
Jen felt great. I didn't want to push things, so I was very gentlemanly. I rested my hands on her waist, moved to the music, and sucked in the scent of her sweet perfume and the sight of her smooth black skin. She was really into the dancing and kept whispering little jokes and questions into my ear. After a couple of tunes, we sat back down and the girls started buying us drinks. Before I knew it I was wasted. I remember, blurrily, seeing Rocco leave with one of the blondes. And I remember trading tongue with Jen. What I remember most clearly is laughing and giggling with Jen as I accompanied her to her room. At the hotel room door, Jen and I did some hot necking, and I ran my hands up over her voluptuous ass and around her waist. I was so bombed, I started getting dizzy. I remember saying good night to her and watching her ass as it disappeared on long legs into the darkness of her room.
I stumbled home, unlocked my door, and fell into bed.
I woke up the next morning to bright sunlight cascading through the window and the sound of the surf 20 yards away. My mouth felt gummy and my body ached. Rocco was missing. Lucky bastard, I thought to myself. I washed up then drank some juice, fixed some coffee, and sat out on my porch in my boxers and t-shirt, soaking the sun's rays deep into my weary joints.
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew I heard Jen's voice in my ear, whispering "Get up Jimmie, I'm here." I bolted upright and there she was.in front of me - - tall, dark, and lovely. I apologized and said hi. She laughed and explained that we'd made a date the night before for a day on the beach. I gulped and stood up. Jen looked great - - her long straight black hair was tied back in a ponytail, she wore dark, designer shades, a bikini top, a sarong covering her bikini bottom, and a pair of short-heeled beach shoes. I got her a cup of coffee while I went inside to change into my swim trunks. We headed down to the beach arm in arm - - her slender black arm looped around my tanned, hairy bicep.
She smiled as we walked to the beach and I ran my eyes hungrily over her fine body. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and had a pair of beautiful perky tits, probably 35C, a slender waist and wide ample hips on top of a round firm ass. This could be one helluva day at the beach, I thought to myself.
Sweat was already glistening across the top of her chest by the time we found a shady, secluded spot not more than 15 feet from the surf's edge. I spread out a blanket, tuned the radio into a local soca station, and we settled down together. Her shining black skin was like an aphrodisiac to me, and I could feel my cock stiffen with every glance at her body's abundant curves.
Baby, Jen said to me, you must be in such sad shape after last night. I can't believe how much you drank.
I laughed and told her how one problem with Antigua was that no one knew how to give a really good massage.
Laughing, Jen said, Ain't no Chicago girl ever said no to giving a good man what he needs. Turn over on your stomach, sugar.
I rolled over and Jen settled herself down on the small of my back. She began working over my shoulders with amazingly strong hands. She spread suntan oil in her palms and then slowly pushed and rubbed the oil into my shoulders and back muscles. I was in heaven and groaned as she worked at my upper arms.
Hey baby, I said to her, you still got that sarong on?
She laughed and answered, Not for long.
I felt her rise up off my back, saw the sarong drop next to us, and then felt her settle back down. As she continued massaging, I could feel my cock growing longer and fatter. At first, I tried to concentrate on the massage, it felt so good. But then, as my erection grew I started to really enjoy the feel of her weight on my body, and my tingling cock. Finally, I grabbed her hand as it came off my bicep and pulled her to the ground beside me. She lay on her back, panting, and I slid over to kiss her. Our mouths met and then our tongues rolled into each other, and I heard Jen give a deep moan.
As we kissed, I ran slid my right arm under her neck and ran my left hand down to her tits. They were so full and firm. Groaning myself, I pulled my mouth away from hers and licked my way down to her breasts. I pushed her bikini top up and ran my tongue around the dark, sweet skin of her breasts. Then I nibbled on her nipples and rolled each one between my lips. Jen groaned and pushed her hands through my hair, shoving my head back and forth over her tits as her nipples hardened.
