1. Marlee: Chapter 05


    Date: 8/4/2016, Categories: Interracial, Author: MrDeep, Rating: 1, Source: LushStories

    Hello again! It's me, C.C. You know me. I ramrod a large part of a big-time banking operation. In my work, I buy up the worthless. I hire assistants to enhance it or repair it. Then I resell it for an enormous profit. Everybody gets rich, especially me. It's the same for hot white women. Yes! I'm a black man. I usually specialize in the beautiful young blondes like Felicity, Sindi, and of course my mainstay, Marlee. I specialize in hot women, but my only fault is I sometime fall for them, too. One never knows where or when opportunities present themselves. It may be a rumor. It may be something I read in the Wall Street Journal or just passing by it on the street. That's what happened with Alexis. At first glance, she was a hag. She was sitting at a sidewalk café sipping tea. She had stringy brown hair. Her lips were thin. Her face and makeup were a mess. Her eyebrows were uneven. On the asset side of the ledger, she had a nice smile, emerald green eyes, and a shapely - although a bit chubby body. My mind was like a calculator. I could pick her up cheap, fix her, and sell her for a profit. Working hot women is much like the housing market. I buy 'em, fix 'em, and flip 'em. That was my goal when I sat down across from Alexis. She looked up across at me and smiled. Her eyes made a quick dip to my crotch and up to my eyes. It was then that I could tell she was black curious. I spent the next two weeks showing up wherever she was. It was mostly sidewalk cafes. She loved to read ...
    Cosmopolitan . We spoke. It was mostly "Hi!" or "I haven't seen you around?" or "Nice weather, isn't it?" Then one day I saw her reading Ebony . So I walked up to her and asked to sit down. "I have seen you so often, that I just got to introduce myself," I said. I told her nothing about me. She was eager to talk about herself. I let her talk. She was married, and we worked at the same building, although for different firms. She frowned when I said I was a banker and trader. That's not unusual. Most people despise bankers. I'm used to that. "Oh! I know how you feel about bankers. I hate 'em all the way to the bank!" I said. She got the drift of what I was implying. I had money. Hot white chicks all love money. I made a date with her to have dinner after work. I had to leave work early to meet Alexis in the parking garage. She usually took the train. Her face told me she was impressed by my gunmetal grey Mercedes. When I opened the door for her, she stepped in, revealing her lacy top hose and a glimpse of a red thong. She looked up at me with her emerald green eyes and smiled. I smiled back. Over dinner, she told me she was married to an auto mechanic named Chester. I told her I liked to date white women, and I thought she was very beautiful. "I'm a little plain as we say. I never grew up around women who took care of themselves," she confessed. She came from a small town in western South Carolina. "I married my high school sweetheart. Now we are here," she said. I let her talk. ...
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