1. Queening for a Day


    Date: 1/8/2017, Categories: BDSM, Fetish, Interracial Sex, Author: AfroerotiK, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    even further. Shauntay kept asking more and more questions, eventually bringing Bret out of his shell as they rode. Every once in a while, she would lean close and whisper sweetly in his ear and send chills up and down Bret’s spine. She was equally as forthcoming, sharing details about her life. It turned out that she was 33, which he would have never guessed because she looked almost a decade younger than that. She was getting her Ph.D in Physics which intrigued Bret that much more. As the got off the bus, Bret was in another world. This was out of his comfort zone; this couldn’t be explained by any reasonable construct. He was following a total stranger to God only knows where to do God only knows what. No one knew where he was, he hadn’t explained his absence to anyone. His heart was pounding. Bret was terrified that she was going to do something crazy or unhinged but he clearly outweighed her and towered over her. He kept wondering why she wasn’t afraid that he was a psycho killer, why she wasn’t paranoid that he was going to do something unstable or psychotic to her. She didn’t even have a cautious look in her eye. In fact, she seemed to be the one that was comforting Bret. They reached her apartment, and still carrying her backpack, Bret blindly followed her up the stairs of a two story walk-up to her apartment. She intentionally stopped short and Bret ended up face first in the seat of her pants. He froze there, inhaling her scent openly, hoping to detect the stench ...
    of her asshole. Shauntay wiggled her ass in his face, giggled, and opened the door to her home and invited him in. It was exactly as Bret had envisioned in his mind, it matched who he thought she was. It was small, so tidy it would make any obsessive-compulsive jealous, and obviously occupied by an academic and an intellectual. Shauntay excused herself and left Bret alone as he scoped the scene. There was no TV in the living room and the bookshelves were lined with books about Black History, chemistry, art, travel, alternative medicine, and of course, physics. Her music collection didn’t have any artists Bret recognized and the décor was simple and contemporary but accented with pieces that looked like they might have been inherited from an older f****y member. “What are you writing your dissertation on, uhmmm, if you don’t mind me asking,” he yelled in the direction of the bedroom as he tried to gain further insight into her without getting caught while she changed her clothes. “The Instantaneous Quantum Teleportation of Information Across the Time and Space Continuum as it Relates to Members of the African Diaspora.” She waited for the pause of dumbfounded silence that followed every time she told someone her topic, and sure enough, like clockwork, 8 . . . 9 . . . 10, he responded, “How did you master the art of playing chess? And those guys . . . you seem . . . so . . . you know . . . comfortable with them . . . how . . .” She didn’t answer. It all seemed too coincidental. ...
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