Smooth

Dedicated to my dear friends "Jane" and "Cock."

* * * * *

Jane first saw the silent man with the shaved head at her own engagement party at her fiancée's mansion, and Jane knew instinctively how much she wanted that man from the very moment she saw him. His piercing dark brown almost black eyes captured her attention immediately, although she had to admit that the rest of him would have kept anyone's eyes enthralled to his thin muscular body for a long time. Arthur Stoddard and Jane Betts had been standing in the midst of family, friends, well-wishers, co-workers and everyone else's significant others, while "dark eyes" seemed to skirt the edge of the room nodding an occasional brief exchange with some other person. Yet, whenever Jane glanced back toward him, his deep, dark eyes consistently returned her questioning look with an obviously covetous answer.

Time and again she tried unsuccessfully to break away from the little bridal clique from Arthur's father's office which had been clinging to Arthur and Jane as if the two of them were some sort of emotional lifejacket. Finally, on her fifth try, Jane broke away only to lose sight of him in the nooks, crannies, hallways and doorways of that great big house.

Damn. Why hadn't he introduced himself to the bride to be?

Jane hadn't been so sure that she wanted to get married, but everybody told her what a great catch Arthur was, and how lucky she would be to marry into all that Stoddard money. Besides, they told Jane, she couldn't pass up this opportunity.

"I feel like I'm applying for a job," Jane told one friend. "Maybe I should update my resume first."

"Don't be so critical," the friend replied. "You'll be great together."

Jane held back telling her friend that she'd already been a bit disappointed with Arthur in

that

capacity. Still he was charming, and most of her acquaintances felt that his money would more than make up for any inadequacies. Besides Arthur swore up and down that he loved Jane for better or for worse, if only she'd give him the chance to prove it.

"Have you seen that new guy circulating through the house," Jane asked Julianne, one of her bridesmaids elect. "Young guy, gray suit?"

"Which one? There's only a dozen of them. Oh, I'll bet you mean one of the college interns."

"No. This one's got a shaved head, brown eyes. Tall, handsome...," Jane paused for a second then finished. "...And dark."

"Oh that one," Julianne laughed. "I heard he's on some kind of loan from some Canadian company. Some kind of special training assignment or something of the sort."

"Oh really. Does he speak with that quaint little 'up north' accent?"

"I wouldn't know." Julianne shrugged. "He hasn't spoken a word to me."

This time Jane deliberately hunted the mysterious black man down. She found him waiting alone in the Stoddard mansion library. Quickly she closed the double doors behind them. "So here is where you've been hiding from me."

"Not hiding," the handsome black man corrected. "Just waiting for you."

Jane Betts introduced herself. The mahogany skinned man smiled. His teeth were surprising white and even. He held out his hand. "Cock Smith," he said softly.

Jane felt her head and shoulders start at that odd response. "What?"

He handed Jane a business card which read

David Wincock Smith

. "Cock Smith?" Now she got it. His next question totally floored her. "Jane, if I asked you point blank to come back to my hotel with me twenty minutes from now, would you do it?"

Biting on her lower lip for just a moment, Jane let her blue green eyes sink into the depths of his brown eyes, before she finally decided. "Yes," she answered.

"How long between this engagement party and your wedding?"

"Eight weeks."

"Have you gone to bed with Arthur?"

"That's rather personal, don't you think?"

"Knowing what you know about what we might be doing at my hotel, I'd say that we're way beyond worrying about being too personal, Jane." Cock Smith paused. "What did you two do about contraception? Birth control pill?"

"I...umm...we used a condom and spermicidal foam."

"Very effective," Cock replied. "Do you have any in your purse?" "No." "Good. Because when you meet me at my hotel, we won't be using any at all."

Jane felt the redness in her face begin to rise all the way to her forehead.

"If that blush creeps any higher, Jane, your golden hair is going to turn strawberry blond. Now I'm asking you again, with the full knowledge of what you're about to do, will you join me at my hotel?"

In the light of tomorrow's sun, there would be hundreds of pointed differences between Cock Smith and Jane Betts. But at the moment Jane knew their differences lay in the age old instinctive need for the induction of the male into the female. "Yes," Jane replied again. "In fact, I think I feel a headache coming on. I suspect I'll be leaving this...this affair in a few minutes."

"Very well." He stood up and walked toward the library door. "Be at the Hampton Inn by the interstate. I'll be in the north parking lot."

Taking the back stairs up to the second floor everything went quickly--even smoothly. Inside room 217, Jane turned her back on her partner in order to undress. She felt that this would insure less of a chance of her chickening out and bolting from his hotel room. When she turned back Jane discovered that his head wasn't the only thing which he'd shaved. Her eyes went wide as she looked over the dark man's brown black body. Cock Smith had a total absence of body hair, underarm hair and even pubic hair for that matter. All she could think of was, "Oh my lord!" The suddenly her mouth formed an unexpected word: "Yummy."

She noticed that when he took his first look at her body, David Wincock Smith broke into a huge admiring smile. "I see you're surprised."

She nodded her head. "Absolutely astounded."

"Good. I was counting on that." Cock held out his hand and reached toward her. But he deliberately waited until Jane decided to cross the room and come to him. She walked over to the light switch first. "No, leave it on, bride-to-be. I want to be able to watch you while I fuck you."

He stood totally naked waiting for her, his jet black erection growing steadily as she stared at his midsection. David's large hand continued to extend outstretched toward her. Equally naked and exhaling anxiously, Jane padded obediently over on her bare feet and took Cock Smith's hand. "Good girl. Now I want you to lay down here next to me, so you can examine every single inch of my body."

Once they'd sprawled across the bed, Jane found her fingers slowly gliding over the smooth hairless flesh on this exotic specimen of a black man. Time and again she would scrutinize him from different positions. She brought her eyes, her fingertips, her nose, and her lips down very close to every part of his body to inspect every single spot where he may have missed removing body hair. "How did you do it?"

David chuckled. "The hair remover stuff on television really works on me."

"As much as I hate to ask you to hide this," Jane said as she caressed his long dark erection. "I need to have you roll over on your stomach."

Deliniated along his shoulder blade was a lengthy red and green tattoo of an exotic Near-Eastern Oriental style of dragon. Thin and etheric, the dragon seemed to be perfectly a part of him. Jane traced the design carefully with her index finger. "This is beautiful."

"Tiamat. She's Sumerian and a good luck charm," David said. "You might say she's my fertility symbol."

Jane giggled uneasily. "And why might I say that?"

"Because the last two woman to caress Tiamat with the same care and enthusiasm which you're using turned out to be very fertile indeed. They both got pregnant."

Jane paled. She looked up into Cock's eyes with some trepidation. Then when she saw a big impish grin creep across his face, she sighed in relief. "You are so full of it!"

Cock shrugged. "Maybe a little."

As if a signal were given between them, they stopped laughing. Jane's slow careful fingering of David's body was more than enough to make her wet and ardent herself. Though there wasn't a great deal of subtlety in Cock Smith's impatient up front approach, Jane Betts hadn't requested tenderness. Now fully prepared to guide her paramour's large, thick penis into place with her hand, Jane squirmed next to David until he crawled carefully atop of her, and oriented his bluntly extended dick until he lodged firmly into the moistened opening she provided. Cock Smith prodded strategically until first his wide glans pushed into place, and then the rest of his thickly erected black cock slid sufficiently into Jane's now warm and supple sheathing to attain full penetration of the pale blond white woman beneath him.

Clasp. At maturity a woman encourages the man of her choice to exchange physical intimacy for pure release. Jane's arms and legs wrapped securely around Cock Smith to cradle him closely to her. Her breasts, abdomen, and torso cushioned the weight of his deep mahogany colored body. Her lips and mouth stretched upward to seek out his lips to share in the pleasure of their togetherness. Inevitably her loins enveloped even more of the strong, prodding erection of this man, her new lover--her black lover. Something about that thought made Jane's mind shiver. But out loud, she managed only to loose a soft moan.

Her nose was very close to his nostrils and mouth, and Jane found an unusual pleasure in rebreathing his expelled air. Even laying beneath him, her hands clutched eagerly along the contours of his shoulders, exploring rippling muscles and even some cartilage and bone in soothing stimulation. But, of course, the most vivid stimulation Jane endured emanated deeply from elsewhere.

Sensing that his breathing had become isolated from hers, that his rough, uneven panting alternated with her own gasping, while his strong vibrant heartbeat quickened, pounding out his own chest rhythms in counterpoint to her own. Jane allowed her concentration to focus on her new found awareness of what was happening between them. This self-awareness spread out along the surface of her pale skin, so that Jane could feel droplets of sweat rolling from the perspiring body of her dark skinned lover. The drips spilled down to fill a small pond around her naval. All this wetness and more would ultimately soak into the sheets underneath them.

All this wetness--and more! Jane thought. More! Oh, my God. Totally cognizant of the hands and arms of the man who held her closely, Jane Betts surrendered. Gentle, yet strong against her shoulders and back, his hands were the part of the limits of her universe at that moment. Very intensely, they gripped her, holding her to him in order to keep both of their bodies anchored securely.

But, most of all, they were conscious of the fact that within the healthy framework which formed the basis for their ardent bodies' response to a shared passion, they were intoxicated by each other's strength and softness. The experience that was man thrusted and churned within woman, nearly wallowing in the warmth and wetness that her supple loins provided. Although they were counting on their systems interacting for the pure pleasure of the moment, as two human beings, Jane sensed that she could not separate the act which gives such pleasure from the other act which brings such primal significance. Quickly her hand went to the curious texture of the tattoed dragon on David's back. She stroked that symbol engraved in his skin again and again. Could such nonsense as a fertility symbol be true? No! She needed to save such notions for her husband to be, and this was not her husband to be. Thank God for that. Cock felt much too good.

Conjoin. Release. Conjoin. Release!

Conjoin! Release! Jane remained quiet as her African Canadian partner began to quake with a long tremble that seemed to run the entire length of his body. Stiffening penumbulently, he bucked, bending oddly up and away from her for a moment. Yet, pulling her torso very tightly against his own, Cock Smith lurched with his hips back, laid her back down flat against the bed, and, in an obvious relinquishment of his self-control, slammed down against her belly quickly two, three, and then four times. With her black paramour plunging rapidly into her eager pussy several times in quick succession, Jane found herself pinned against the bedding, sheathing his penetration as deeply as the two of them could manage.

Opening her eyes, Jane looked up to watch the straining muscles in David's face construe themselves into a taut grimace. Then she heard the silence broken for the first time in many minutes, when Cock gasped. A short slip of a wheezing breath accompanied his sharp guttural grunt, and suddenly the tension in his facial muscles, arms and torso begin to slacken, just as his lungs and vocal cords expelled a long, pent-up sob of relief. Her right hand leaped to the bumpy texture of Cock's dragon tattoo, fertility symbol or not she dug her fingers into his dark skin there.

Fertility symbol? Yes! Jane Bett's heart thumped wildly within her chest, as Cock Smith slumped limply atop of her. A throbbing surge of intensity prodded her deep within, while his wet heat splashed and pooled sporadically inside her. The curious odor of liquid masculinity slowly wafted up to her nostrils as Jane felt him give way to his final shudders. The son of many generations of African heritage, this Canadian stranger had just enjoyed much of the experience that was truly her, while Jane experienced much much more of what there was yet to be released from him. What were the facts? Had Jane, as a caucasian woman, selected this black man or had Cock Smith selected her? Somehow everything that just happened to her brought to mind a point that wasn't quite clear yet. Consciously Jane's hands went back to the ravishing tattoo of Tiamat once again. Arthur Stoddard was out, she knew that now. David Wincock Smith was in--Oh, God, was he ever in!

Jane Betts rubbed his tattoo possessively with her right hand. "Mine," she murmured. "You're mine, all mine."

Though she could hardly catch her breath, Jane began kissing him all over his smooth neck and face. Then Jane panted into David's ear: "Cock Smith, how 'bout we do this again?"

"Can you wait for another two minutes or so?"

"Sure," she whispered. "I might even wait three. Hey, are you married?"

"Not yet. When I get married, my wife will have to have her entire body shaved."

"Her head shaved too?" "Only during pregnancy--probably from her second or third month until she delivers the baby. What do you say to that, Jane Betts?"

Jane stayed silent for a moment. "I'd better buy a really good razor." Then she began giggling uncontrollably. "Will I like your hometown?"

"I don't know how they'll take to a bald-headed woman back in Winnepeg, but you'll like the city. Windiest city in North America, you know. But a pretty good place to raise children."

"And how many children do you have?"

"I wasn't going to tell you just yet."

Jane frowned. "How many, David?"

"That's going to depend entirely upon my bald headed wife, Jane," David answered. "But any number the mother of my children declares will be considered a permanent verbal contract which we'll both have to live with."

"You mean if your bald headed wife said, three children..."

"Then we'll have three children," he answered.

"Wow." he murmured. The fact that any children Jane might have by this man would not have the same heritage that she grew up knowing was now irrelevant. Their children would symbolize a more universal celebration of human kind. Whether those children were somewhere in the near or distant future, Jane couldn't tell.

"Five."

"Hmm?"

"I've decided on five. What do you think, Mr. Smith?"

"I think you're liable to have a very bald head over the next several years, Ms. Betts."

She put her finger to his lips. "No, the name is Smith. Mrs. Jane Smith."