Nicky loves to watch herself dance and if the music is right she will dance all night. Her moves are so graceful, a full figured display of modern dance and ballet. When the right song comes on she moves in such a slorrish manner. That private dancer talent, unmistakable. Nicky’s rhythm is one that will hold anyone who lays eyes on her spellbound. Dancing in the mirror, she can see all the men with their significants trying not to watch those hips sway from side to side. That amuses her. She catches those jealous glances from the groups of women mad at her ability to bounce and dutty wine that ass. So sexy and carefree. Each sway is met with rolled eyes and pursed lips. Nicky doesn’t give a shit. For Nicky, it’s all about admiring the mystic movements of her curves as the beat journeys up her legs right through the middle dispersing all over her thick thighs. It’s never a problem for her to choose who will go home with her after a performance. It is always Nicky. She’s a fucking tease.
The beat dropped. Boom, duh duh duh duh. “I’d done been around the world… the devil is a lie..”
“Ow! That’s my shit.” Nicky jumped up from the sofa and headed to the other side of the living room where the full length mirror was. A bottle of Stella in her hand she sashayed across the floor the best she could, stopping every few seconds to dip, close her eyes and say “AYYYYYEEEEE, got lipstick his leg.” She opened her eyes and there he was. Six feet and seven inches of thick darkness. With a full beard, the kind that gives you soft scratchy tickles up and down the inside of your thighs. Nicky tried to act like she didn’t see him, but then, don’t nobody kiss it like you , don’t nobody kiss it like… Nicky got in his face, started grinding on him and mouthing “At five in the morning…”
He said “I’d done been around the world… I bet a million dollars.” Mouthing back to her. He didn’t move, standing there stoic like a chocolate statue while Nicky gyrated on him, spinning until her ass was on his leg. She took his hands and smacked them on her thighs, ran them up and around encouraging him to feel every inch of her.
The beat of the drum bassed through my legs pass my girl parts to my stomach and into my chest. I could feel it all over me. I could feel his hands move from my thighs to my waist. He was behind me, swaying left to right. I grind on his dick. Those other girls can’t compete with mine. I had to feel it. His size meant that it was big. My song is on and I need to feel it. The t-shirt, belt and jeans did nothing to hide the bulge in his pants. I got comfortable on his chest. His aroma surrounded me. A mix of what smelled like Mont Blanc Legend, spearmint, and a hint of bourbon on his breath when he sings
Them pretty lips leave me so inspired
“Tell me your name, what do you want me to call you.”
I throw my head back and say, “Call me your whore.”
I feel his hand glide from my waist to the inside of my thigh and massage my pussy. Then the Big Man took a big whiff of my neck and walked off. A bitch almost fell on her ass and dropped her Stella.