I woke with a stale taste in my mouth, too much champagne and sex. A toothbrush and a cup of tea and I'd be as good as new.
Extricating myself from Zanire's sleeping limbs, I quietly limped to the bathroom.
Pointing my dick at the bowl, I was surprised it still worked. "You saw a lot of action, buddy, I'm glad you're ok."
Zanire, stirred as the kettle boiled. "Morning, lover boy, how are you feeling?"
"Sore and abused. How are you? Cup of tea?"
"Tea would be lovely."
I tried not to stare at Zanire's body that was casually sprawled across the bed. Her chunky curves so dark against the white sheets. This gorgeous lady had opened my eyes; I could see a generous woman, not a statistic, not an immigrant, a special person that I wanted to help. In many ways she was far richer than me. I opened the curtains, sunlight streamed in. A new day, a new beginning.
Placing the cup of tea on the bedside table, I noticed the neatly folded lingerie, my present to Zanire. I recalled how fantastic she looked, all chocolate and dove-egg blue lace. Shame it didn't stay on longer. Wow, what a night! More than 10 hours in bed and around 5 hours sleep. Not a bad compromise, half sleep and half sex, half black and half white, one rich and one poor, me and this exotic beauty.
"Roger, get rid of the towel and get back into bed." Zanire's breasts jiggled delightfully as she arranged the pillows and pulled back the covers, inviting me to join her. The sheet fell, and there she was. All of her, naked and mine. So strong and brown, warm and gorgeous.
Sitting up with my tea, I recalled some of last night's activities. I'd never experienced such passion between two people. Yes, Zanire had taken the lead, she always took the lead. She was the master, I was the apprentice. I wondered where she learnt her skill. Her generosity and her passion? I raised my tea cup and with a silent toast, I thanked the unknown mentor.
"Roger look at us, drinking our morning cup of tea. Like an old married couple. We can't have that!" She rolled towards me; her head on my chest, her thigh on top of mine. With a bent knee, she comfortably hooked an ankle between my legs. Zanire's dark palm slid down my chest until she found my snoozing dick. A gentle shake and a light scrape with a painted nail, my dick answered like a swimmer on the blocks. I could see where this would lead.
"Zanire, we have about an hour before our first meeting, we need to shower and have breakfast."
"Roger, don't be such a bore, I don't need breakfast. And there is nothing better after a night of sex than a long, slow fuck."
The way Zanire said Fuck, was so exotic, more of a 'Fark' than a harsh sounding, Fuck. Zanire, an African Mae West.
It didn't take long for me to agree that we could skip breakfast. Zanire's hand quickly roused a surprisingly, impressive erection.
I snuggled in for a kiss, drawing Zanire's tongue into my mouth. I could taste my toothpaste, warm tea and a lingering flavour - remnants from last fun? Zanire rolled on her side, facing me. Her large brown breasts flopping into the crook of her right elbow. They moved sensuously with each gentle pull on my dick. Her tongue poked between her lips as she found my earlobe and nibbled. Yep, breakfast is over-rated.
"Roger, I'm going to 'fark' you slowly, you will lie on your back and do nothing." Zanire's left hand dragged the sheets from our bodies and then immersed itself between her thighs. Her right hand continued to softly stroke my erection.
"I'm going to 'fark' you like it's Sunday morning, you will forget about work and enjoy." I could hear faint squishes, her left hand busy in her pussy.
