Tasting Salt

My father, Ted Rose, was the first black head football coach for the university that I attended. That, of course, was excellent news for me for three reasons. One: Free tuition, especially since my dad lead the football team to the championships for the past three years. Two: It was perfect driving distance from home, meaning that I could still get into the good parties without having to deal with the bullshit of dorm-living assholes. And three: Having a dad as a football coach got me into contact with some luscious eye-candy. And I mean the lollipop kind.

Speaking of luscious, I wasn't that far from it. At only 5'5'', I carried my extra fifteen pounds proudly. Shit, my extra jiggle only made the boys stare harder, especially since it landed in all the right places. And let me tell you something, my ass could stomp the red carpet in six-inch stilettos as well as them stick-thin model skanks. Tell me, do they ever enjoy a sweet slice of strawberry cheesecake, or maybe a loaded piece of death by chocolate? Honestly.

Putting on my silver scoop-necked blouse, I glanced in the mirror at my reflection. Dark blue jeans and black gladiator stilettos completed my outfit and I grinned, finger-combing my waves before opening the door to my room.

"Ladies' night," I sang to myself, walking out.

"Kiara Rose, I'm getting ready to leave, baby," my father called from the living room. He was going to a conference for the weekend a few towns over, which meant I had the house all to myself for two days. Like I said, ladies' night.

"Now, how many of your girlfriends are you having over?" dad asked, setting his bags by the door.

"Only three or four, dad, lighten up." I put my hands on my hips. "I am in college, you know. The same you work at, in fact."

He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "And do you pay the bills?"

"This conversation is getting old already," I said, sighing.

"That's because we have it every time I leave." He kissed me on the cheek. "Kiara?"

"Hmm?"

"You better make sure this house is spotless by the time I get back. I don't want a bunch of your girly shit hanging around here."

"Gee, thanks dad," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Ben Salt is gonna check in on you tomorrow around one." My dad held up his hand before I could complain. "Don't give me shit about it, and don't give him shit when he comes, either. He'll only be here for a few minutes."

"Dad, really? I'm twenty fucking years old!" I said, crossing my arms.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Then get your own damn place and you won't have to worry about it, now will you?"

I turned my back on him and walked to the kitchen. "Love you!" I heard him call, and then the front door slammed shut as he left. I guess I could have gotten my own place. I had a good paying job at a designer clothing store, and since I'm a bit of stickler about money, I had about five-thousand dollars in my savings account.

The thing is, I liked saving my money, I liked not having to worry about bills except for my cell, my gas budget, and my own clothes, and sometimes I liked just being around my dad. I think I'd miss him too much if I moved out right now.

"Good thing I only invited a few people over then," I muttered as the doorbell rang. I walked over and opened the front door, a smile growing on my face as two of my best friends walked in, carrying a third between them. "Damn, already? You guys know Ashley can't hold her liquor."

Ashley Everly, my beautiful blond bombshell of a friend, who'd only been plastered drunk about twice in her life, and she was a year older than me. Well, technically three times drunk, if you counted this one.

Keisha Simon and Lacy Reynolds, cousins, laid her down on my couch and then turned to grin at me.

"Girl, that ain't even the best part," Keisha said, grinning at me. "Look at this."

Lacy bent down and rummaged through Ashley's purse, her long braids falling in her face. Standing up, she handed me a DVD. "She stole one of her brother's pornos."

I stared at the cover, a picture of a black guy doing doggy style on the cover with a brunette. "What the fuck are we supposed to do with this?" I hissed at them.

"Watch it, Kiki, what do you think?" Ashley mumbled. She'd been calling me that since I was twelve and she was thirteen.

I snorted. "Yeah, you're totally in the mood to be watching a porno. It's only five o'clock in the afternoon, and you're already shitfaced."

"Nooooo, I'm not," Ashley said, drawing out the word. She sat up clumsily. "I'm fine."

"Of course you are, Ashley." I knelt down in front of her. "And what in the hell possessed you to steal one of Jason's pornos? That's just wrong."

"Told you," Lacy said. "Let's go see a movie or something."

"Wait, hold up," Keisha said, holding up a finger in classic ghetto-chick style. "I wanna see it. I can take some ideas home to Chris." She snatched the porno from me and walked to the TV to pop it in.

"Okay," I said. "Besides the fact that we're getting ready to watch a cheesy porno together, what else is wrong with this picture?" Lacy shrugged, Keisha folded her arms across her chest, and Ashley stared hard at my face as if she was trying to stay focused. "We have no men. This is all estrogen floating around in here."

Keisha looked at me, my remote control in her hand. Pressing play, she said, "So?"

I rolled my eyes and stood behind the couch while Keisha and Lacy sat on either side of Ashley. Within five minutes of starting the movie, I knew that the four of us were hooked. A classic cover line about a male employee finding out that his attractive female boss was siphoning money from the company they worked at. Either she went to jail, or she agreed to have hot, rough, satisfying sex on her office desk whenever he wanted. Eventually another male employee caught them and threatened them with exposure. Thus, the two-some became an interracial three-some with a very well-endowed black man taking her from behind while the first guy fucked her mouth. The woman's moans were fake, the guys' ejaculations were real, and when it was over, the four of us just sat staring at the screen, our pussies dripping and our clits throbbing.

"Shit, Kiki, you were right," Ashley said, quite clearly for a drunk person. "I need to go fuck Ian."

"I'll give you a ride," Keisha said. "My kitty's about to pop so let's go."

I stared at them, shocked. "Great. And you?" I asked, staring at Lacy.

"The precinct let Rob take tonight off," Lacy said, shrugging. "He'll be surprised when I get home."

"Right. Thank you, bitches," I said, flinging my arms towards the ceiling as they headed for the door. "I'll just stay here in my horny state while ya'll go home and get the brains fucked out of you."

"Where's that toy I got you?" Keisha said. "The one for Christmas last year?" She put Ashley's arm around her shoulder.

"I don't want a fucking vibrator, Keisha, I want a man!"

"Then go to a fucking club!" she hissed back, walking awkwardly out the door. "I'm 'bout to go home and get me some from my man. And if he even tries to pull the freaky deaky shit he did last time..."

Her words droned into silence as she got into her car and left, Lacy pulling out after her.

"Well, shit," I muttered. I turned back to the TV, the porno paused on the screen at particularly horrible shot of the women's face as she came for like the billionth time. Curious, I flipped to the home screen and chose a different story, one about a waitress at a bar who decides she's incredibly horny and fucks a guy on a pool table with patrons looking on. The next one starts out with a close up of a white guy getting his dick sucked by a Latina chick, and by the time I get to the fourth and last one, I've come five times by my fingers, still without any relief.

I needed to get fucked, and I needed to get fucked soon.

I took the DVD and put it back in its case, hiding it in my room until Ashley came to retrieve it. After that, I tried everything I could to get my mind off sex: did the dishes, fed the dog, cleaned the pool, picked up my room—which I haven't done in ages—and even tried watching a movie. I was fine until the sex scene started, then I just turned the TV off and pouted on the couch.

"I need a boyfriend," I muttered to myself.

It was only around nine, and here I was in party clothes with no one to party with. I ate a disappointing dinner, took a shower, watched a little TV, and then went to bed around midnight.

What kind of shit was that?

Saturday morning I woke up around nine, but refused to get out of bed until eleven-thirty. My cell had messages from all three of my friends apologizing about ditching me the night before, but I threw it back on my nightstand and headed for the shower. It wasn't until I had been out of the tub for about fifteen minutes that I figured out a solution to my sexual dilemma. I smeared lotion over my body until my skin was satiny smooth, brushed out my long waves, and sprayed a light perfume on my wrists, neck, and the back of my knees (the secret spot that my mother taught me).

I wanted to wear something that would be make me easily accessible, but without calling me a slut. In the mirror I looked at my black shorts, turquoise baby doll shirt, and the gladiator stilettos I wore the night before, and grinned. Sexy, chic, and ready to be fucked.

Hey, I could be bold when I wanted to.

I gave myself a devilish smile and walked to the kitchen, making myself a roast beef sandwich. I drank a little vodka to loosen me up a bit, and then brushed my teeth to hide the smell. Ten minutes till one, the doorbell rang.

He was early.

Ben Salt was an arena football coach's assistant for the city's team, and also one of my father's best friends. They'd met at a football awards ceremony, and obviously had kicked it off. At twenty-nine years old some might say he was a bit old for me, but hey, age is just a number, right? Sandy brown hair, light gray eyes, and a body built for the field attested to the fact that he wasn't that old...certainly not too old to keep up with me. And the good part was that he was shy. Shy, sweet, and delicious are exactly my type.

I went and answered the door, giving him a smile as I welcomed him in. "Hi, Ben," I said, closing the door. "Dad said you'd be stopping by." Standing right in front of him, I watched as he took me in, his eyes stopping for a few milliseconds on my low-cut top.

He swallowed and said, "Uh, yeah. Told me to check in on you, making sure you didn't burn the house down or anything."

I could feel his eyes on my ass as we stepped towards the kitchen. "Want a beer?" I asked.

He gave me a hesitant look. "Are you old enough to drink?"

"Legally?" I said, taking two beers out of the fridge.

Ben took one. "Put that other one back. You can have juice."

Raising an eyebrow, I put the other beer away. "Yes, daddy."

He gave me a slight grin and took a swig from the bottle. Sitting on the couch in the living-room, he asked, "So, how yah been?"

"Well, the house is still here," I answered slowly, walking after him. "I'm still here, and the place isn't a disaster. As long as my crack friends stay hidden in the bathroom, everything should be okay."

Ben chuckled, avoiding my gaze. "Ted told me you might give me a hard time."

"I'm twenty years old," I said, the old grudge coming back. "I don't need a baby-sitter."

"I know it," he answered.

I looked up at his tone of voice, and he averted his eyes again, his cheeks turning red.

"Well, so...you look nice," he said hastily, suddenly interested in the bubbles in his beer bottle. "Got a date?"

"Not until later," I replied simply. I went to the kitchen and fetched the other beer, then strutted back towards Ben, sitting on the middle cushion next to him. Taking his half empty bottle, I drank the rest of it and handed him the fresh one. He watched as I licked my lips and crossed my legs.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Thanks."

Poor guy was so nervous, and I almost felt sorry for him. I was practically assaulting him with my body, my behavior, and liquor. Reaching out to lightly touch his thigh, I asked, "Are you okay? You don't look to hot."

Ben jumped up, spilling beer all over his groin area. "Fuck," I heard him mutter. Points to him for not ranting and raving about it.

"Hold on a sec, I'll get a towel." I jogged towards the linen closet in the hallway by the front door and got two hand towels. Throwing one on the coffee table, I said, "Stay still," then bent down to dry his pants.

"Whoah, Kiara, what do you think you're doing?" Ben grabbed my wrists and pulled me up again, his face only inches from mine.

I gave him a mock condescending look. "I thought I was drying you off," I answered, jerking my wrists from his grip.

Snatching the towel from my hand, he said, "I can do it myself, thanks."

I snatched it right back. "It'd be much more fun if I did it." I got up in his face as if to kiss him and he backed away quickly, right into the wall. Before he could react, I knelt down and began dabbing at the wet stain. "What the hell is this?" I asked after a few seconds. I rubbed against what I knew was his erection.

"Kiara, stop!" Ben said hoarsely, and I glanced up at him. "I wasn't born yesterday; I know what you're doing."

I stood up in front of him and crossed my arms, blocking his way. "So why don't you play along?"

"Because!" he said, hands in front of his groin. "Shit, you're Ted's daughter. He'd fucking break my legs!"

"Don't underestimate him, Ben. He'd cut off your dick first."

"Then why the hell—"

"Do you know what I did yesterday?" I asked him, putting my hands on his chest. I could feel how hard and chiseled it was beneath his shirt, and I shivered in excitement. "A few of my friends brought a porno over and forced me to watch it. We all got horny, but while they went home to boyfriends and lovers, I was stuck here by myself with no one to fuck."

Ben opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

"Look," I said, moving my hands to his neck. "I have the whole weekend to myself. My father doesn't come home until tomorrow night, which means the house is empty this afternoon, all night, and tomorrow morning." He tried to talk, but I cut him off. "Now, I could just go clubbing, pick up some sleazy shit-head and bring him back here, but..." I kissed him softly, barely touching my lips against his. "I have you right in front of me."

For several seconds I could see the war going on in his eyes as he stared down at me. Here I was, thick and horny, easy for the taking. And then there was my father, tall, formidable, and unforgiving. Cautiously, his hands slid around my waist and rested gently on my ass, and I knew that a hard dick had won out over a possible broken one. It always does.

Ben squeezed my ass and pressed me into him, his lips sliding over mine. The kiss may have been gentle, but the fire in my pussy roared to life, and it didn't help that his cock was pressing against my thigh, the heat burning through the fabric.

I pulled him towards me harder, sucking on his bottom lip. My hands drifted down, undoing his khaki dress pants and moving into his boxers.

Breaking the kiss, I pulled away from him with an impressed smile. "And what have we here?" I said quietly, pulling out his partially erect cock. Grabbing it with both hands and rubbing the smooth, dry skin, I looked up into Ben's eyes. "You're packing quite a punch, I see."

Ben caressed my cheek, tracing his thumb across my lips. Leaning forward to press his mouth to mine, he murmured softly, "You know, white men got game, too."

I laughed, walking away with his cock still in my hand. He was forced to follow me, and I sat on the couch, licking my lips as Ben positioned himself in front of me. "How do you like it, Mr. Salt?" I said, massaging just the head with my right hand, the left planted on his thigh. "Soft and slow, or fast and wet?"

"Torture me," he responded softly.

I looked up, surprised but delighted; Ben was coming out of his shell! I didn't say anything, only gave him a wink, and then wrapped my lips around his head. I took in more and more of his cock, sucking him in and then pulling him out, my lips sliding across the skin of his dick. My mouth began to water from the taste of him, and pretty soon every time he pulled out, I was slurping to keep from spilling my juice.

My pace was slow and deliberate, and after several minutes his first moan came, slipping out from between his lips.

"Shiiit," he breathed, looking down at me.

I gave him a coy smile, replacing my lips with my hands. "Would you like to fuck my mouth?"

"Uh..." he said uncertainly.

I grabbed his hands and put them on either side of my head. "Just be gentle," I told him, then opened my mouth around his girth.

His fingers threaded themselves into my thick mane, and slowly, he pushed his cock in deep, pulling out when he thought he'd gone far enough. After several thrusts his eyes drifted closed, and I reached beneath his cock to finger his balls.

"This is so wrong," he whispered, his need quickening the pace and driving his cock deeper into my throat. "This is so fucking wrong..." He slid all the way out and bent down, claiming my mouth in a hard kiss. "I'm going to fuck you," he said, grabbing my chin and looking me hard in the eye. "I'm going to make you come, but then I have to leave."

I grinned at him and stood up. "Do you want some vodka?" I asked.

"Please," he said, tucking his cock back in his pants.

I poured him a drink, biting my bottom lip as I thought about his dick in my mouth. There's nothing like the feel of hard, delicious cock against the back of your tongue; nothing gets me wetter, and I wanted to fuck him now.

"Wanna do it right here?" I asked him, giving a flirtatious smile. I moved his drink and hopped up on the counter.

"On the, uh...the counter?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Nervous men are so cute. "Yeah, why not?" I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards me, my hands sliding around his broad torso and clamping on his butt. "Fuck me, Benjamin Salt," I whispered into his neck, nibbling his ear lobe.

"I can't have sex with you on the counter of your father's kitchen," he argued, looking around. "There could be cameras watching."

I slid off the counter laughing. Pulling my shorts and panties off, I said, "I think I would know if there were security cameras in here."

Ben's gaze watched my thighs as I hopped back onto the counter, the hem of my baby doll shirt fluttering up to expose the ebony, trimmed curls of my pussy. He slid his body between my legs. "You're something, you know that?" he said, tickling his fingers across my skin.

"Why? Because I'm a horny black chick willing to fuck you?"

"Not that you would know this, but I happen to know lots of women willing to sleep with me. And none of them involve consequences dealing with angry fathers who own several shot guns."

"But were not sleeping," I said, pulling his shirt off. "We're fucking. And while that could possibly lead to your violent demise, you're still here."

"Because forbidden fruit," Ben said against my lips, "always tastes the sweetest."

I undid his pants again and pulled his cock out, still swollen from tasting him. He pulled me to the very edge of the counter and began to slide into me, stretching the opening of my pussy. I groaned against his lips as my cunt began to clamp down on him, protesting his thickness.

"This should be fun," Ben whispered, pulling out. The next second he pushed right back in, going further. Every subsequent thrust went deeper until finally he began to fuck me, the friction of his dick building the ache in my pussy.

True to his need for me, he pushed my shoulder gently, forcing me to lean back on my elbows. He grabbed my legs and bent them, forcing them apart so that my pussy was fully exposed before his eye. And then he began to pound into me at a slight angle, his lips parted slightly as he breathed, his gaze on my face. "Are you gonna come for me?" he murmured, and at those words, I broke, crying out as my pussy walls tightened possessively on his cock. I arched my upper body and tilted my head back, thrusting my breasts out. His large palm crept beneath my shirt, up my slightly plush tummy to cup one, flexing to press against my studded nipple.