The Bride-To-Be Wants More Than A Dance (interracial)(mf)[prost]

After two years of stripping to help pay for my college education, bachelorette parties are the norm for me on a Friday and Saturday night. This gig was easy. I was smelling nice from the recent shower, looking good fresh from the barber shop, and had moisturized my skin until it looked like polished wood and after dancing my set. Dressed as a cop, with a name tag which read OFFICER NASTY, I stripped for a bunch of fun loving females fresh out of college who pawed me as they shoved dollar bills in my thong.

After my show, and a lap dance for the bride, I dressed in a bathroom. Beth Ann, the girl who booked me and the bride-to-be, Kelly waited for me to emerge. Beth Ann handed me my boom box.

“Thank you for coming,” Kelly said.

“Sure,” I said, with a smile.

Beth Ann said, “Hey, do you think you can do something extra for the bride?”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like, she’s never been with a black guy and she should have the experience before she gets married.”

“Beth Ann!?” exclaimed Kelly, hitting her friend on the elbow.

“What?” she answered. “This could be your last chance.”

“I could do that,” I said.

Kelly chewed on her bottom lip as she weighed the pros and cons.

“Alright,” she said.

I said, “It’ll be two hundred dollars.”

“It’s not included in your fee?” asked Beth Ann.

“Sorry. That’s for the dancing only. A happy ending is extra.”

Beth Ann said, “Okay, hold on a second.”

She went into party room and started collecting money from their guests. The girls pulled out their purses, digging in their wallets for bills. It didn’t take long for Beth Ann to return and hand me the small stack of money. I did a rough count, seeing enough twenties, tens and fives to make two hundred.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Kelly led me upstairs, her little butt in my face as she mounted the stairs.

I asked, “Is there anybody else at home I should worry about?
Dad with a shotgun? Mom with a .45?”

She giggled. “Dad and mom are in Florida. Don’t worry.”

She led me to her room, still painted lavender and full of stuffed toys and trophies from her school days. She closed the door, muffling out the party noise below. She stepped up to me with sly eyes and stood on her tip toes.

She said, “I love your lips. They look like pillows. So soft.”

Her lips tentatively met mine and after a sample, she kissed me again. We started out gentle but it wasn’t long before my mouth landed on her neck, mauling her like lion on fresh meat. She kicked off her boots and shucked off her tight jeans and I followed suit, taking a condom out of my pants pocket before tossing them on a chair. I backed her onto her twin bed where she fell backwards with wide eyed excitement.

I said “Just to make sure we don’t have any mocha babies.”

She giggled. “We’d make a pretty baby.”

“I’m afraid it would freak out your fiancé too much,” I said slipping it on.

She gave a little yelp as I jerked her knees, sliding her towards me with her legs in the air.

I said, “And twenty years from now when you’re fucking, what’s his name?”

“Travis.”

“When you’re fucking Travis for the hundredth time, you can think of this.”

I entered her pussy, sliding it into her wet tight warmth.

“Uhhh,” she moaned out as her back arched her tits towards me.

I started pumping in, inching further inside her with each stroke until my dick was completely wrapped in warm tightness and she was riding my shaft like a pro. The headboard thumped against the wall with my hard rhythmic pumping as she held onto me, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist and arms around my neck. Her hands stroked my head, fascinated by its wooly texture.

I said, “You like that, don’t you, girl?”

“Yes, yes. Oh God, yes. I love your dick. I love it! Ohhh!”

Her knees clinched against my hips as I drove deeper inside slapping my body between her greedy thighs.

“Oh my God, I’m going to cum.”

“Cum for me girl.”

Her hands flew out to grab handfuls of sheet as she came loudly. It was too much for me, not having had sex in two weeks. She was so tight.

“Oh, fuck,” I said, as I felt a huge load of cum explode from my dick.

With her arms still wrapped around my neck, my weight balanced above her body, she moaned as I slowly withdrew. I slipped off of her and walked into an adjoining bedroom to take the condom off my sticky dick back and flush it down the toilet. She was leisurely putting on her jeans when I returned to jump into my pants.

She said, “God, I wish I would’ve met you before I got engaged.”

She ran her hands over my chest as I slipped on my shoes followed by the shirt.

“Yeah, well you’re going to be Mrs. Travis so you be good and good luck with the wedding.”

I gave her a peck on the lips before heading downstairs. The party hadn’t slowed down, the girls doing shots in the kitchen and playing beer pong or pin the dick on the naked man poster. I collected my boom box and out the door I went for the drive back to my apartment in university lodging twenty miles away.

Back in my room around eleven, I sorted out my hard earned money on my bed while chowing on the burger and fries I picked up on the way. Three hundred and eighty dollars. Not bad. After a shower, wincing as I applied antiseptic to the tiny nail gouges, I crawled into my bed to start reading chapter five: the principles of microeconomics.

From: [Xavier: Chocolate Delight](http://www.amazon.com/Xavier-Chocolate-Nina-T-Marie-ebook/dp/B01DIG0QA6/). Available on Kindle.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/4cjoa5/the_bridetobe_wants_more_than_a_dance