I ran my hands down her skin. My fingers caressing the ache out of her tired muscles, and then I dug my fingers into her shoulders until she moaned under me. The difference between my pale hands and her dark, muscled, back--such a sharp contrast; I dug my fingers into her shoulders again, letting the thumbs press deep.
She purred.
I realized, looking down at her, that her skin was the color of chocolate.
Then I absently traced my fingertip across her tattoo, following the raised letters that say that very thing.
Chocolate
The too-gentle touch must have been tickling her; she giggled and turned over to face me. I laid myself down next to her on the satin sheets and I watched her eyes go to my chest. Her fingers slowly crossed the distance and she ran her nails through the thick, dark, curl, hairs on my pecks. She dugs her fingertips into those muscles that long hours in the gym have helped sculpt. I smiled, as I watched her play with the nipple ring, like a bright flash of silver on my chest. Then winced when she tugged it.
"Are all white guys like this?" She pulled on the hair again.
"Most are. Some shave it off." I ran my fingertip around her nipple. "Are all black women like this?" I asked, looking at the midnight black skin.
"Like what?" she asked.
"This dark," I answered.
"Yeah! White women aren't?" she asked, her long fingernails slowly followed the trail of hair down my stomach.
"No. They go from a pale pink to a dark brown, but I've never met a white woman with them this dark." I delighted in giving her nipple a soft pinch between my fingers.
"Do you like? My nipples? Do you like them?" she asked.
"I'll know better after I've had a taste," I told her grinning, but made no move to do so. I was distracted as her fingers close around my cock, her fingers soft but the grip of them hard at the same time. She slowly started to slide her hand up and down the length of me.
"Damn baby you're hard! You know most black guys would be between my legs already if they were this hard." She ran a finger through the leaking pre-cum.
"I've worked around black men my whole life, on construction sites." Looking at her face I smiled, and then shrugged. "A lot of them don't take the time to do something right. They just rush from project to project trying to finish as quickly as they can and get gone."
She chuckled, and then tried to look all serious.
"That's a hell of a racist thing to say to me," she said, pulling all the harder on my cock.
"Truth isn't racist; it's just the truth as I've seen it." I suppressed a moan as she tightened her fingers to painful levels. "You will also note I said
a lot of them
, not all of them."
She looked at me for a second then her grin came back.
"Yeah, a lot of them are like that in bed too. Oh, you'll meet the exception now and then, but most just want to
cum
and go." She gave a hard, sudden tug on me, making me groan. "The faster they can empty their nuts the better they like it."
She stroked me harder. I closed my eyes and moaned deep in my throat as she worked me with a fierce rhythm.
"You've got a nice cock," she told me, when I open my eyes. I watched her looking at my cock and her hand, which was just a blur she's working me so fast.
"Well, thank...you," I panted a little. "But I didn't have a lot of choice in it, its original equipment." Leaning in, I whispered next to her ear. "I have a question, now."
She shivered. Then purred.
"Ask away." I ran a finger lightly across where her tattoo was showing.
"Are you dark or milk chocolate?" I asked, with a grin.
She cackled a laugh, and then she shook her head and grinned at me.
"Honey I'm every kind of chocolate there is. It just depends on where you want to taste." She gently raked her long nails under my balls, catching in the wrinkles of skin.
