Nikki

Nicole a black-haired pointy-nosed hip-hopper who kin really break it down. She not colored but she wish she be—she a little bit dark, maybe Italian or Lebanese. Kinda do a tribal thing with her motions. Whatever she be in the world, Nicole always striving to be a star. She never stop dancing and cutting up. I hook up with Nikki again yesterday afternoon after her class, still breathing heavy from her exercise but looking for a different kind of practice. She bare shoulders shiny, a little smear of moisture licking her upper lip. “Can I talk witchu a minute, Nicole?” We find ourselfs an empty room with a massage table and lock the door. She already dancing again, slinking and strutting, moving her hands like to introduce her ass to she audience. What are the sound of one dick clapping? I always love how her stomach is so flat and firm, a little gold ring pierce through her belly button. “Do that hurt,” I inquire, pinching it in my fingers and turning the key. “Nah,” she say, setting back on the padded table and flipping my hardening dong over the elastic waist of my shorts, “Do that?”

Someone have teach this chick how to give good nosejob, she long white beak stroking up both sides of my brown boner. It not hurt either how she long eyelashes tickle my tiptop, how she lips purse up to kiss its tiny mouf. I’m liken lookin as Nikki do it to it, she black hair sweep back of her face as she starten to suck.

Nikki are ambitchous, no one in the class dance more vigorous, no one given cooler head than she, no one riden a rod or shiften a stick like she, no matter how black they be. In a minute I’m lay on the massage table and she straddle over me, slippin it in and we startin moven to that invisible music—no ipod in sight. Seem like she inside me instead of me in she, when I look up at her face her eyes is crazy like green and gold glass.