Deep within the bronze and glass walls of one of Harlem's most prestigious condominiums, rose an elevator filled with three, but headed to one. At the center of the group was Theo, a young man of means, propelled socially upward by a series of successes in the oil business, swept off from his rural ranchland home in Dallas, Texas, to his new sky-high loft in one of Harlem's trendiest and most desirable neighborhoods and buildings. With him, in fact with one on each arm, rode Yvette and Yvonne, two African American women, blessed with bodies of a type written about by the great philosophe Sir Mix-A-Lot. The three had met at The Cherry Lounge, a local establishment owned by Dj Clue and Timbaland (two world famous producers).
Said club was one which Theo loved, despite the odd looks he got for being one of the only white men to enter through its well-guarded doors. It was the music he was after, though not necessarily the sound of it -- as even though he had always had a certain obsessive affinity for rap music, he often found himself more taken by the culture that surrounded the genre, in particular the women who frequented the scene. It was a unique and oft-chided appreciation, one which clashed, at least in stereotype, with his being a jean-and-boot--wearing farmboy, from the heart of the Lonestar State.
And yet, there, in all his conflicting glory, as bass-filled music thumped loudly throughout the club, Theo sat unaccompanied, in an alcohol-rich VIP suite. He, as always, wore jeans and boots. The latter being brand new, and as expensive as he could find, just the latest in a series of conspicuous purchases, one that made him smirk, whenever he thought of it. Such a thought, and such a smirk ended however, replaced by another, when suddenly two women approached the velvet rope which separated his suite from the rest of the club.
"Hi!" Yvette half-shouted, trying to be heard over the loud din of the music pumping throughout the club.
"Yeah, hey!" Yvonne followed with an equally amplified voice.
"Howdy, ladies." Theo responded loudly, as he used his hands to pat the open seats next to him on the red-leather couch on which he sat.
"Can I join you?" Yvonne asked, as she leaned over the rope which kept her from entering his suite uninvited.
"We! Can we join you!?" Yvette added, or more corrected, not wanting to be left out of a party with the club's newest and most available baller, caucasian as he may be.
"Hell, why not! Let 'em in big guy." The wide-smiling VIP responded, his instruction meant for the large, tight-shirted bouncer who held firmly to the opening end of the velvet rope. Once allowed in, the two busty and thick black women wasted no time in joining their host, each taking a position next to him, Yvette on his left, and Yvonne on his right. Both women wore dresses of an incredibly tight and form-fitting variety, which came down only a centimeter or two past their incredible round and supple asses. One might assume, due to his more rustic roots, that Theo would be ill-prepared to take advantage of such a situation, or perhaps that he would be too shy to capitalize on women who saw themselves as predators and not prey, in terms of sexual acquisition. But Theo suffered from no such faults, or frailties, for he had been the king of kings in Dallas, making bar hopping, and women wrangling his two most favorite, and successful hobbies. Stories could be told, books written, and even classes taught about his conquests -- conquests which were won whilst he was still just a poor country boy -- still just another Texan, with a cute smile, and butt that looked damn good in jeans.
Now, however, he was more, or at least had more. To offer. To use. To flaunt. And so he had, and so he did, enticing two women, of the type he wanted most, to take places, one under each of his arms. Neither wasted a moment with formalities or playing hard to get, making it clear what they wanted, and what they were willing to do for him -- to him. And though he would take them up on their offer, he first wanted to enjoy the moment -- the night -- and in truth, a chance for them to get to know him. In such a venture, jokes were told, laughs had, smiles worn, and bonds formed. Surprised the two girls found themselves, that none of that fun and enjoyment was feigned or faked, even if that was the expectation and intent of each of them as they began their socializing.
For it was the case, that Yvette and Yvonne both saw Theo, before they even knew his name, as a rich white boy, who came down to a hood club to get his dick wet in some thick ebony booties. And in a way, they had pegged him right, but where they were wrong, was in thinking that they could navigate those familiar waters, with each other, without actually falling for him, his accent, and everything he brought to the table.
For with every movement and expression Theo made, both Yvette and Yvonne fell deeper and deeper into the shackles of his country boy spell. His accent was beautiful, his smile was intoxicating, and his hands were work-worn and strong, squeezing and fondling in a way only a working man could. In those same moments, Theo found himself falling too, not for one or the other, but for both -- for they together. Their bodies were so similar. So thick and juicy. Yvette's skin the color of a lighter caramel, and Yvonne's the hue of rich dark chocolate. Their breasts looked as if reflections of the other's, merely framed with different clothes, and painted different hues. Their asses no less similar, both round and big, in some places bouncy and others firm in exactly the way Theo wanted. There lips, oh how beautiful they were, full and plump -- begging to be kissed with their every movement.
In that moment of mutual expectation-breaking mezmer, Theo luxuriated, ordering one drink after another for both he and they, absolutely gleeful at the prospect of finding not just one, but two women with whom he felt not only comfortable, but truly happy. Not alone was he in his appreciation for the moment either, as both Yvette and Yvonne had found their initial expectations shattered. Each having entered through the velvet rope believing that Theo was simply a mark from which they might drain cash and crystal, leaving him when his funds exhausted, or their eyes found another with better prospects. But now.... Now, as each of the girls stole quick and frustrated glances at one another, they found themselves falling deeper and deeper into the fit country boy's trance. He was funny, cute, and rich -- all things they wanted, not just for the night, but moving forward. Someone who could finally whisk them away from a life of chasing dollars, and drinks -- riding dick for rent, and sucking it for to keep the lights on.
Those feelings, those desires, first surfaced and clashed, when each of the girl's roaming hands met one another just over Theo's sizeable cock, which still laid dormant beneath his bright, new blue jeans. There they grabbed, not for his member, but for the other's hand, trying to tear it away from the cock they wanted all to themselves. Of course, neither was willing to accept such an interception of attention, both instead fighting back, by grabbing at each other, ending in their hands warring together not centimeters above Theo's waiting rod.
