Steam--A Marlon Jackson Erotica!!!

I think I have always, whether I realized it or not, admired Marlon Jackson’s physique. From his younger days where he was thin as a reed, he plumped with age and was once more slim at the conclusion of his last concert tour. I do understand that maintaining an attractive figure, even for a man, is a labor that requires a good diet and a decent amount of exercise. With that idea in mind, I penned a story that takes place in a gym, but this is not the kind of work out you can get in an aerobics class…



 



 

 

“Steam”

A Marlon Jackson Erotica By:

MJsLoveSlave

Zenith Athletics Club

Atlanta, Georgia

November 2005

In the early hours of the day, when the time read on any clock as morning, but the sun had yet to make its warming and illuminating appearance, most of what was downtown Atlanta was quiet and still.

Most of the nightclubs had rolled their last drunken patron out the door hours ago, and every restaurant’s last dish had been washed and put away in preparation of the lunch rush soon to come.

Rows and rows of stores boasting a variety of wares sat unmoving and dormant, their display windows slightly dimmed, as shoppers at that hour had dropped into bed to sleep off their sprees of yesterday--and would most likely melt the plastic of their charge cards again as soon as the cock decided to crow.

In the absolute heart of the metropolis stood a rather imposing and dominating structure, comprised of austere grey concrete and glass with minimalist touches.

A building that soared on, and above the blackened streets for over a dozen stories…a building whose interior was as unmoving and soundless as the area surrounding it.

Immediately beneath building was a parking garage, once full at the apex of the day, now containing only two luxury vehicles, parked on opposite ends of the lot.

The only movement between the cars, was that of a bum, his frail form in nothing more than rags against the crisp, brisk breeze blowing that early morning, curled up and trying to sleep behind a dumpster.

The stillness and darkness of the twilight hour was broken by the sound of a small ping.

A moment later, the doors of the elevator slid open slickly and out of that rectangular box suspended by a steel cable, a couple disembarked.

A man, somewhat stocky, and a bit on the short side, was donning a pair of designer sunglasses, despite there being no glaring sunlight to blind him, and with his free hand was pinching after the ample bosom of the (significantly) younger woman with him, causing her to playfully squeal in protest.

As the woman slapped at his hands, giggling and begging him to stop, the man suddenly threw his arms around her, drawing her slim, lithe body against his.

The two stared at each other, a raw, sensational passion immediate and plain on both their faces.

It was the type of look that could stop a clock, it was lusty, animalistic and bare, a look that cared no more for anyone in the world than the two of them.

The look was, quite simply was that of a new love.

Love, new and fresh as flowers budding in the spring.

A love so new, it had only been realized just that evening…

Several Hours Earlier

The Zenith Athletics Club was one of the newest establishments in the city of Atlanta, but had amassed an impressive and devoted following.

The ZAC had been in business for less than two years and already had a five-year waiting list of people jockeying and vying for a membership. (A membership that at the Elite Platinum level made the member over two hundred thousand dollars poorer annually.)

But the ZAC was the place, as clichéd as it sounded, to see and be seen.

Standing at twenty stories on the skyline, the ZAC had floors devoted to almost every sport imaginable: archery, golf, water polo, aerobics, jazzercise, basketball, football, and a fully-functioning gym for conditioning, cardio, and general working out.

There were saunas, massage parlors and a well-stocked juice bar offering smoothies and healthy meal and snack alternatives.

And with the ZAC opening its doors at five a.m. on the dot, and not closing until nine p.m., it was possible that anyone, no matter how hectic their schedule could make a cameo appearance there.

At least that was the idea.

With about forty-five minutes left until the ZAC closed its doors for the night, the usually jam-packed sports complex had reverted into something of a ghost town, its halls hollow, the water filled pools so calm, the surface shone like blue glass, the once boom-boom-boom of techno driven Zumba classes quiet as a church house.

The Ladies locker-room, once filled with a bevy of gorgeous, seminude women and rocked with their laughs and catty comments, was dead silent.

And beyond its swinging doors, in the electric pink and black tiled room, a lone woman before the long mirrored basin, staring at herself.

Draped in one of the short, terrycloth robes with the initials of ZAC emblazoned on her back in black, the woman is putting the finishing touches on her makeup.

A soft, oval face, boasting large, expressive and tempestuous dark eyes rimmed in false lashes under expertly arched brows.

The lids of said eyes bore a mix of silver and royal violet shadow, and were outlined in kohl.

Her lips were glossed to a high shine with a light berry color complimenting her fine, medium brown complexion.

She was a woman of average height, her body toned and well-shaped, comely and curved in all the womanly places.

Her hair, long and thick, a natural shade of jet black with the merest hint of deep auburn highlights, usually pulled back in a scrunchie, was now wrapped around large hot rollers in an effort to force volume into the tresses.

On the counter, as she tortured her lashes with a mascara wand, making her already black fringe their very blackest, a voice, high-pitched with amazement demanded,

“Larue Charmaine, what on Earth are you doing?”

Without moving from her spot, Larue began unwinding the rollers from her hair, allowing her tresses to fall down her back.

In the reflection of the mirror, she saw that an Asian woman, petite, with a bleached blonde pixie cut, wearing baggy pink sweats had appeared behind her.

Still loosening the curlers, Larue teased, in her deep, husky and heavily accented tone,

“I’m picking boogers--what does it look like I’m doing, Tessa Vo?”

“Looks like you’re laying it on pretty thick, Girlfriend.” Tessa snickered, coming forward and leaning against the low marbled counter.

“You got a hot date or something going after work?”

Rollers out and returned to their green plastic warming container, Larue picked up and brush and bent over passing it through her locks before replying sheepishly,

“Something like that…”

On the floor, one of Tessa’s tiny feet, in plaid Chuck Taylors, began tapping the floor again.

“Oh…so HE is coming in tonight, huh?”

Flipping her head back up and using her fingertips to get her hair to the desired height and fullness she desired, she wriggled her nose at her friend.

“Yes, HE is coming in tonight--” She started and was interrupted by Tessa sighing,

“I swear, I don’t understand your fascination with that guy, ‘Rue. If he’s as rich as he makes out to be, I don’t know why the hell he doesn’t build his own gym at his house. Why spend through the ass renting out this place and then coming after hours to work out? Craziest mess I ever heard.”

A cloud of unhappiness crossed Larue’s pretty face and she turned slightly, to glare at Tessa directly,

“Marlon Jackson works from home, he owns some kind of dotcom business. He told my Daddy he likes getting out and coming to the gym, because it’s the only time he can get away from ringing phones and things…and besides, whatever money goes into Daddy’s pocket, finds it’s way around to mine.”

Larue tossed her hair ruefully and picked at it some more.

Tessa sucked on her teeth thoughtfully,

“Well, your Daddy owns this place--what does that have to do with you?”

Picking up a bottle of spray and misting her hair, the twenty something cackled,

“Have you seen my father try to work the Juice Bar? It looks like Gunga-Din by the time he gets done! So I work the bar when Marlon is here.”

“Can’t the guy just bring Gatorade in a bottle like a normal person? He is so going over the top, ‘Rue!” Tessa cried, exasperated.

“He gets the same thing every time.” Larue boasted, spraying herself with a cloud of potent vanilla musk perfume.

“Some kind of smoothie with an energy boost, a fruit cup and a green salad. And I’m gonna have my Black ass there to fix it for him.”

“I don’t get you, Larue…” Tessa was shaking her head, picking at jade bracelet circling her wrist as her friend turned and crossed the room to a row of lockers and began turning the combination lock on it.

“You’re young, you’re pretty, you practically own the ZAC. There’s tons of sexy ‘roid-poppers floating through here every day. You don’t even give them a second glance. Why do you want a chubby guy who’s over the hill--”

“Tessa, shut the hell up before I lay you out, please.” The door to the locker came open and Tessa put her hands up to her face as Larue, back to her, dropped off her robe, revealing her naked body.

“Damn it, you could warn me before you do that! Damn!” Tessa grumbled, shielding her eyes from the spectacle.

“Oh calm down, we’ve got the same parts, you prude!”

“I am not a prude!” Tessa squealed, sounding more like an anime character than a human being. “At least I’m not chasing after some old dick!”

“I’m not chasing, I intend to catch it.” Larue spoke quietly, her voice tight with determination.

Such determination that Tessa peeked between her fingers to stare at her friend in awe.

And the small jaw at the base of her face dropped.

Larue stood a few feet away.

Her form was dressed for attention in a very low cut, dark purple bra top, with so much padding, lift and under wire, Larue had enough cleavage on display for two women!

The top had been paired with low-rise, hip-hugging purple and white tie-dyed, flared bottomed sweatpants.

Pristine white sneakers stuck out from under the pants.

“Holy shit…” Tessa gasped as her friend came strutting back over and scrutinizing her appearance again. “Marlon’s in trouble, isn’t he?”

“Got that right.” Larue fluffed her hair one last time, and asked,

“How do I look?”

“Like a woman about to go forth in sin.” Tessa nodded emphatically, and grinning brightly, Larue, hugged her friend’s arm.

“That’s exactly what I was going for, that ‘highway to hell’ look!”

Snickering loudly, both women headed for the door.

A half hour later, Larue Charmaine was the only soul in the whole of the Zenith Athletics Complex.

Lingering behind the neon splashed counter of the Juice Bar, the young woman let her mind wander, thinking of the one and only Marlon Jackson.

Though it annoyed her, Tessa hadn’t been too far off the mark when she had said Marlon was strange for spending quite a bit to rent out the ZAC after hours for a three-hour work out in the gym, when he could have one in his own home.

But in a place like Atlanta where in every five or so wealthy people there was one loose-cannon, you just sort of learned to look the other way and go with the flow on eccentricities.

That was what was so odd about Marlon, though.

Aside from the renting of the gym every week, Larue could see nothing else crazy about him.

He looked normal, was relatively polite and kept to himself, only bothering her for refills on smoothies.

Larue couldn’t understand it, perhaps she was still too young to understand it fully, but she did know she was attracted to this man.

Completely, wholly, totally.

She wanted this man, thought of him constantly, wanted to be with him at all costs.

And she was going to be damned if she didn’t have him.

Oh, to feel his touch, kiss his mouth, fuc--

“Hello.”

At the sound of that mellow, slightly twanged, gentle voice, every single immaculately placed hair on Larue’s head stood at attention as her spine straightened automatically and she turned, to find she was no longer alone.

Coming in through the double, frosted glass doors of the bar, was Marlon Jackson.

Larue’s heartbeat quickened so swiftly, she was dizzy.

And it was a joyous dizziness.

Marlon was a somewhat stocky man, a bit shorter than average, but Larue didn’t care, she found beauty and wonder in every inch of him, from his cinnamon-caramel complexion to his broad, plump lips, to his drowsy gold-tinged hazel eyes.

His body, showing a bit of heft in the middle, that night was covered in a casual, black Nike jogging suit, and black and grey cross-trainers. Completing the ensemble was a black ball cap, bearing the emblem of the Ferrari automakers.

And while it was pitch dark outside, a pair of Fendi shades hid his eyes.

Being dragged along behind him was a Louis Vuitton rolling case.

My, but this man did like his labels.

“Hello, Mr. Jackson…” Larue could barely speak as Marlon drew closer, the scent of his amber-based cologne loud and plain in the air. “W-would you care for anything?”

Setting his bag down and hoisting himself up on a stool, a large hand came and stroked the mustache decorating his top lip and making it all the more prominent,

The bridge of his flat nose wrinkled as he looked over the heated woman’s head at the backlit menu.

“I need something really healthy…” He chuckled, removing his glasses and giving Larue a small heart attack as the light danced on his golden eyes. “…I just got back from visiting my mother, I’ve been eating rich, sweet foods for the last week. The only greens I saw had ham hocks floating in them. Hmmm…”

There was just a touch of a goatee at the bottom of his lower lip; how Larue had dreamed of tugging on it.

“I’ll have the orange mango smoothie, and a small organic green salad, and some balsamic vinaigrette, please.”

With that, Larue was moving, making a meal out of raw fruits, veggies and yogurt.

In minutes, Marlon’s plate and drink had appeared and he was starting to dig in.

Watching him eat, Larue tried desperately to forge a conversation,

“Is that really all you want, Mr. Jackson?” She wondered, crossing her arms actively pushing her bosom up higher as she leaned on the counter towards him.

She got a zealous chill when she saw his eyes take in her flesh globes for a split second, then avert back down to his salad as he chewed, those gorgeous lips of his flapping.

“Yes, it’s all I need anyway, I’m gonna go run this off in a bit .”

Setting his fork down, he sipped at his smoothie.

“Mmm--tangy!” He laughed musically, a sound Larue treasured.

Nibbling on a cherry tomato, Marlon was thoughtful,

“I notice you’re always here when I come in to work out. It’s Friday night, wouldn’t a young lady like you rather be at one of the nightclubs or on a date or something? Not sitting and serving me”

Seeing his plate was empty, Larue, face on fire, cleared it away telling him,

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Jackson, really. This place is going to be all mine one day anyway. I have to know how to run it.”

“That’s right…” Those eyes focused on her and she had to grip the counter’s edge to keep from hitting the floor.

“Mac Charmaine is your father, isn’t he?”

“That’s right.” Larue nodded and took pleasure as a soft smile curled Marlon’s features.

“He’s a nice guy, letting me rent the place like this from time to time…”

His face was so smooth, showing only a few lines around the eyes, that he couldn’t have been more than thirty-five at the most.

Just the perfect age for Larue, older, but not too old…

Rising from the stool Marlon reached out a warm hand and patted her shoulder.

By golly, he was touching her! Larue wanted to swoon.

“I don’t think your father has anything to worry about, you seem like a very capable lady to me. Will you bring me another smoothie in about two hours, please?”

“Yes, Sir, of course!!!”

Marlon gave her a wide, bright smile.

“Thank you…”

Taking his rolling case, Marlon started from the bar, leaving Larue to marvel over his wonderfully, ripe and round backside.

Once the doors shut after him, Larue tumbled to the floor, fanning herself wildly.

The next two hours dragged on at a snail’s pace as Larue tried to kill time until she could take the smoothie in to Marlon. She desperately wanted to go up and watch Marlon whilst he worked out, but since Marlon seemed to be a man who liked his privacy, as he paid so dearly for it, Larue let him be.

And cursed herself for not having been more obvious about her intentions to Marlon. Oh she had wanted to, but every time his gaze fell on her she turned into a stuttering puddle of idiocy.

She sat and played every game on her Blackberry and tried to text Tessa--she got no reply and figured Tessa was underneath her own boyfriend, Ping. (And was jealous that her best friend was getting a piece of ass and not her!)

After what seemed like an eternity and a half, it was finally time for Larue to bring Marlon his drink, in the gym that took up the entire fifth floor.

Cold drink in hand, she stopped outside the closed doors to the gym, and gave her breasts an extra push to put them up higher.

Larue couldn’t figure just when the idea had come to her mind, but she was certain that Marlon was a boob man.

Somehow in the deep recesses of her mind, Larue could take an abstract notion and by the time she got done with it, had turned it into absolute, gospel fact.

“I’m young, I’m healthy, my tits are real, I’m good-looking--I’ve won five beauty contests“…Larue whispered to herself through gritted teeth.

“I’m the reigning Miss Pretty Peach!”

Readying herself to try to put on a better vixen act in front of Marlon.

He had to like her. Last time she checked he was a man, and men had certain things on their bodies that rose up when something appealed to them.

And Larue had fostered the belief she appealed to him.

That was all she needed other than Marlon Jackson’s touch.

Pushing the door open she let herself into the gym and all mention of her formulated plan seeped out right through her seashell-like ears and were gone in a poof.

About ten yards away, across the gym, there was a bank of twelve treadmills, facing a large sheet window overlooking downtown.

And on one of the those treadmills, Marlon Jackson was jogging.

Backing against the wall, Larue’s mouth was sagging in the breeze as she looked upon that creature.

Marlon was running with little effort or strain, eyes closed.

Stands of red from his earbuds and hooking to the iPod attached to his waist he was listening to some form of music.

His cap was off and laying on the floor behind the treadmill.

All over his body glistened with a sheen of perspiration.

He looks like a melting candy bar! Larue almost made the exclamation out loud.

His hat removed, Marlon wore his black hair cropped into a low flattop and it sparkled with his sweat.

Unconsciously, Larue was moving closer.

Soon she was behind him, watching as his glutes flexed with each stride he took.

The beautiful ass she wanted to sink her teeth into.

He was jiggling all over like a wonderful bowl of butterscotch pudding.

And with each stride Larue was becoming crazier and crazier over him.

She had to have him. Right then, right now.

“Ow--shit!”

At the sudden cry, the erotic spell Larue had cast on herself was broken, when Marlon leapt off a moving treadmill and hopped on his right leg, his left leg bent up and being gripped.

The cup of orange mango smoothie fell from Larue’s hand and splattered as right in front of her, Marlon collapsed to the floor, gripping at his left leg.

“Son of a bitch!” He gasped hoarsely, as Larue dropped to her knees beside him, frantic and ready to do anything to aid him.

“Calf…charley horse…pain!” Was all he managed, his handsome face squinching up, buds falling from his ears--James Brown clearly screaming through them--and his breathing labored.

“It hurts! That’s all it’s doing! It hurts!”

Larue couldn’t have been more hurt than if it were herself with the severe leg cramp.

Marlon, her Marlon, was in pain!

A man that stunning need never experience any sort of discomfort.

She had to rescue him, soothe him.

Rolling over onto his stomach, Marlon punched the polished hardwood floor and made a gurgling noise that sounded like another swear word.

His left leg stood up at a forty-five degree angle.

Larue was moving before she could even think, she had seen so many charley horses occur under the roof of the ZAC.

Her hands were on his hot, bulging calf, hands kneading the hardened, muscle like bread dough.

“Ow! Ow! Ooooohhhh…” Marlon mumbled, breathing heavily into the floor, Larue deftly working the muscle to get the kink out of it.

“Oooooh--Oh my God-- damn!”

It took a bit of work but after about ten minutes or so, Marlon’s breaths had steadied and the cursing had come to a halt.

Under her hands, Marlon’s left leg eventually fell straight like his right one.

Lying on the floor, Marlon’s head turned and his cheek pressed it as he whispered graciously,

“Thank you, Larue…”

Larue spoke, but was staring at that ass…

“You’re welcome…”

It was so large, so perfectly round and in tandem with the rest of his body…

Her hand went up to touch it.

It were anything like his calf, how firm it would be!

And was snatched away, when Marlon rolled over onto his back and laughed dryly.

“Well, I know not to run on that damn thing for two hours straight ever again. It’s good cardio, but not if my leg gets turned into a pretzel.”

With a light grunt, Marlon had pushed himself up into a seated position.

“I think this is God’s way of telling me to knock off for the night and carry myself home.”

He started to get up and automatically, Larue was wrapped around his arm, helping him to his feet.

His scent was intoxicating, the strong cologne mixed with mild funk. It was a manly aroma and it made her mouth water.

(Author’s Note: Anyone running for two hours straight will not smell like a rose!)

“Thank you, Sweetie, I don’t know what I would have done without you.” He chuckled and Larue checked out momentarily.

Sweetie, he had called her Sweetie.

“It’s…no problem, Mr. Jackson.” She was hot all over and almost tongue-tied.

“You just massaged my leg while I screamed like a little White girl--call me Marlon, please.”

“Okay, Marlon…” Larue repeated it in a lust-riddled hush, and her eyes drifted to the yellow-orange puddle on the floor.

“Let me get some towels for that. My father would kill me if I start an ant infestation.”

Letting go of Marlon’s thick arm Larue was gone, returning with several large, fluffy white towels and dropping them onto the spilled smoothie.

“I’m sorry, I’ll go make you another smoothie once I’m done here…” She apologized, resting on her knees and trying to absorb the drink before it stained the wood. Off to the side, stepped over and retrieved his hat.

“You don’t have to do that. I think…I’ll hit the showers after all this.” Marlon whistled, placing the hat on his finger and twirling it in the air.

“Yes, Sir.” Larue started to gather the soiled towels into a ball when Marlon abruptly inquired,

“You always call me ‘Mr. Jackson’ and ‘Sir’, just how old are you, Larue?”

Still fumbling with the towels, she answered,

“I’m…I’m twenty-seven.”

“Hmm, that’s a little older than I thought. I figured you for about twenty or so.”

Keeping her gaze downwards, Larue gave a witty reply,

“I take very good care of myself, Marlon.”

That pungent scent of manly stink and expensive perfume as Marlon hovered over her, his shadow falling on the towels and Larue.

“Are you the only one taking care of that sweet little body?” He asked and Larue’s heart nearly exploded behind her ribcage.

“Is that a question, or an offer?” Larue paused, and glanced up at the sweaty, swarthy face above her.

She couldn’t remember ever being so brazen and bold, but this man was extracting that element from her.

And she liked it.

“You want an answer or a proposition?” Marlon’s light eyes were burning into her dark ones.

Looking back, starting to bubble over like a volcano, Larue challenged,

“What do you want to give me?”

Marlon’s eyes swept over her, and a large hand gripped her right bicep,

“Come on, Baby.”

With a strict and authoritative tug, Marlon began leading her towards the Men’s Locker room…

Patience was a not a virtue possessed by Larue Charmaine.

Pacing back and forth with in the electric blue and black interior of the

Men’s Locker room, Larue was a woman on the verge of an erotic nervous breakdown.

Just a few, brief, intensely sweet moments before, Marlon Jackson had escorted her inside, pressed her forehead with two of the softest lips she had ever felt the sensation of before, and very politely excused himself to “freshen up”.

Larue was so mixed up, so bothered and hot, she could have very easily taken him right there, sweat, stank and all, but Marlon was a gentleman.

He did not want to offend and insisted upon showering first.

Truly, that was the only sound available to Larue, aside from the rapid and irregular beats of her heart: running water.

Stopping in the middle of the floor, her eyes were drawn, almost unwillingly, to that blue steel door, standing shut, faint wisps of steam rising from beneath it.

The door leading to the Showers.

A shaking hand went to her forehead, which still tingled from the light smooch Marlon had left there.

Larue knew she should have remained right where she was; Marlon had been extremely kind in his asking her to wait for him. ‘

But insatiable curiosity and a mojo being kicked into maximum overdrive were soon getting the best of the young woman.

How her heart thudded, it was so loud, nearly deafening as apprehensively, Larue’s sneakered feet began to carry her over the tiled floors to that closed door.

It seemed her body, her mind her thoughts were no longer her own. She was moving freely of all conscience, and all she could think of was Marlon.

Marlon, completely naked and dripping wet, standing his lusciously plump body under the running water.

Just standing there, not knowing how without a word, and only a sweep of his eyes had seduced Larue and put her under the influence of masculine charms.

Larue had passed through the door to the Showers, without realizing it and found herself in a large room that was humid, muggy and filled with steam.

Far off, she could hear the steady pattering of water running, and about three rows of showers away, the steam was billowing up in white, cotton like mists and wafting across the ceiling.

Her heart, oh her heart!

Larue’s poor heart had beat like this. Thundering hard and fast and yet felt like it was being squeezed with a strong fist all in the same instant.

Larue had tunnel vision and saw nothing but that single rainwater showerhead running, producing that haze of sweet smelling steam.

The air was filled with the scent of that inviting, tantalizing aroma that had been Marlon’s cologne.

Jesus Christ, was he bathing in the perfume?

Larue was so wound up and staggering about that she never noticed Marlon’s rolling bag against the wall, opened, filled with a large black terry cloth towel, matching robe inscribed with his name, and a collection of lotion, antiperspirant, and eau de cologne all in deep indigo bearing his name.

A few feet beyond the bag, a small pile was comprised of his discarded sweats, shoes, socks and plaid boxer-briefs.

Larue stepped right over them and hands to her chest, tightening and pounding, passed to the last row of showers, in the back of the room.

And rounding a corner, a sight of heavenly proportions unfolded before her.

So wonderful was it, she had to clutch the wall to keep from falling down.

In the center of the line of showers, Marlon Jackson stood.

Bare as the day as he was born, he stood in profile, hands pressed to the wall in front of him, head thrown back, body arched as he let the warm water splash into his face and run down the rest of him, which, in places were white with lather.

His body, twinkling with those little droplets and teeny bubbles, was the fine, tempting shade of caramel all over, with an indiscernible tan line showing on his right hip, where he had most likely worn a Speedo.

Standing like that, to the side, Larue was witness to his figure, the flat face, the plump torso, the strong, rippling legs, the thick hips and rotund buttocks sticking out back.

He was so beautiful, so solidly built and there was also something so delicate, so flimsy as evidence by the way he hit the floor like it was an air raid when a cramp took him.

With his hands still pressed to the wall, Marlon dropped his head forward and as the water ran enticingly down his back, he spoke up out of the mist.

“What took you so long?”

He turned abruptly and was approaching her.

Was she dead? Had Larue died and not realized it?

All she was the divine moving in her direction.

That lovely, bitable moist skin, dripping wet, the broad shoulders, the slightly undefined pectorals with deeper brown nipples standing up and bouncing with each move, that rotund little Buddha belly jiggling, right above…

Larue’s throat drew tighter as she took in the sight of Marlon’s bare groin.

It sparkled from the water caught in the thin patch of jet black pubic curls, trimmed down into a triangle surrounded his…

His penis, thick and brown, hung flaccid, swinging with each step, its tip hidden by a flap of uncircumcised flesh.

His eyes caught the light, showing as a fiery, fierce bronze, as he grabbed onto Larue, mouth mashing hers for the very first time.

A joyous, maddening, arousing kiss it was, from lips that felt like two clouds, and tasting a tongue that still bore the flavor of the mango orange smoothie.

Legs turning to putty, Larue mashed herself against his wet figure and threw her arms around his thick neck, vowing to let go, never.

There they stood, a good long while, mouths connected, the world be damned.

Marlon’s arms circled her waist, and hands touched her little ass, such a spark from his touch that she had to wrench her mouth from his to gasp and pressed her chin into his shoulder.

“Your ass is like a dream, Baby” Marlon hissed, sucking at Larue’s neck, hands on her cheeks roughly.

SMACK!

Larue jumped, in a delicious pain as he slapped her backside, and was pulled from him. Just far enough for him to bury his face into her cleavage, tongue swabbing after the top of the globes.

“Oh…yes…yes Marlon…” She whimpered feverishly and took delight in the light reflecting off the bald spot on top of head.

Perhaps he was older than he appeared.

It was not a matter in her mind, scarcely a blip on Larue’s radar.

His head came up and he was peering at her intently, Larue almost came right there.

His hand was at the waistband of her low-slung pants, and starting to slip inside where his brows went up in surprise.

“You little minx.” He chuckled as his hand touched nothing but searing skin. “You’re not wearing panties…”

“No…No…NO!” Larue’s head jerked back as Marlon’s hand disappeared into the pants and a finger was forcing its way inside of her.

“Christ…it’s so tight…”Marlon whispered, eyes leaving her face and going downward his free hand steadying her as his occupied one twisted in those damp, warm folds.

“You…you haven’t been treated right Larue…”

Hands came up and gripped her face.

Marlon squeezed his eyes shut, and told her,

“You need a man in your life…a man to give you what you need. I can see in your face, what you need…”

Somehow, Larue’s top appeared in Marlon’s hands then on the floor as his mouth assaulted her bosom.

Lips kissing loudly, mouth sucking dark, chocolaty nipples, hands caressing them and ruining Larue with each passing second.

Holding on to his head, Larue smooched Marlon’s bald spot, causing him to bust up loudly.

Squeezing her tightly, junk banging her leg. Marlon snorted, then spoke seriously,

“I’m about to tear it down for you…Sugar.”

In seconds, Larue was as naked as he.

“Goddamn” Marlon’s voice was light as he stood, one hand on his pudgy hip, the other up stroking his mustache as his eyes roved every peak and valley available to him.

A surge of sensuality washed over Larue and putting her hands into her hair, looking very much like a pin up, she teased,

“Like what you see, Mr. Jackson?”

Hand being taken, she was thrilled beyond compare, when her lover stated,

“My name is Marlon, and you’re going to say it enough before the night is over…”

Larue was tugged over to the still running shower and stood under the spigot, warm water rushing over her. (effectively taking all the volume out of her well-tended hair)

Leaning forward, as Marlon joined her she put her lips to the strip of flesh in the center of his chest.

“Yes…woo, shit.” Marlon gasped as slowly, Larue was kneeling in front of him.

Face to shaft with that glorious piece of prick, she was mesmerized by that hunk and wondered how Marlon walking without perpetually stepping on it.

Hand just barely going around it, she licked her lips in anticipation, pushing the foreskin back to expose the rudely pink, mushroom-like tip.

“Lord…” She heard Marlon mumbled and gazed upwards seeing he was staring down at her.

“Do you want me to--”

And as Marlon mouthed the affirmative, Larue began mouthing him, in one swift take, her face was mashed into that fluff of man fur, that large dick gone down her throat.

“You’re gonna do it like that? You’re doing it like that? Motherfucker!” Marlon squealed, falling back against the tiled wall of the shower, shaking, overwhelmed by what was happening to him.

“You…Girl, your mouth…Goddamn!” He was at a loss for words as that mass in her mouth began to grow and harden, extending to a full ten inches or so.

Slowly pulling back allowing the flesh to pop from her mouth and erect, it pointed upwards, Larue, water sprinkling on her leaned down and kissed at the small, swollen, fuzzy jewels that were his testicles.

“Aaow! Girl! Larue! Damn!” Marlon cried, hands to his head, nails grating against the bare patch on top.

Hearing Marlon exclaiming wildly, only turned Larue on further and as her tongue passed along the ridge between the two balls, Marlon stamped his foot.

“Don’t…” A handful of her wet hair was grabbed and her mouth pried from him. “You’ll make me come like that, Sugar…stop it…”

Incredibly, Marlon dropped to his knees, mouth pecking her, and popped right back up, bringing up his leg and slapping his thigh.

Stooping over, he pulled her to her feet.

Hands pressing her hips, he instructed, “Grab the pole--”

As her hands wrapped that dick, he crowed,

“Not THAT pole! The one over the shower! HAHAHAHA!”

Larue was lifted up and could only marvel as Marlon dropped to his knees again, this time taking her legs and resting them on his tensing, shoulders,

“OH MY GOD!” Larue’s head smacked the hard tiles as Marlon’s face disappeared into her loins, sucking wildly at her vagina.

“Oh.--oh-oh! Marlon--Oh! Oh! Shit! Oh!” She grunted as his mouth covered her tiny love button sucking on hard, and producing a loud smacking noise.

Her grip tightened on the chrome pole supporting the shower head, as Marlon’s hands came up, cupping her buttocks, holding her in place and continued to suck for so long, she was sore.

For a split second, he moved his mouth just enough to snicker nastily,

“Such a good, sweet little pussy…and it’s all mine….”

“Marlon-no! Marlon--stop it! Stop!” Larue cried as he began wagging his head wildly from side to side, tongue plunging to depths that had gone untouched.

She was going to ruin his face!

Larue shrieked so shrilly, Marlon jumped back.

Large goofy grin on his face, he teased and prodded her clit with his thumb,

“If you raise that kind of hell, then I know exactly what I want to do to you!”

Just as before, Marlon popped to his feet with the greatest of ease, smacking his thigh.

Bringing Larue back onto quaking legs, Marlon eased around her, arm wrapping her waist and was kissing at her neck.

Putting an arm back, Larue whimpered, and was gripping his thick neck enraptured, his free hand rubbing after her.

Her cheek pressed his, Marlon guiding her towards the wall of the shower.

A hand came up and reduce the water to a light spray.

“I’m gonna be good to you, Larue.” He promised, hands coming down and starting to spread her legs, positioning her the way he wanted.

Larue obliged completely at the will of Marlon Jackson.

He could have done anything just shy of setting her afire and roasting marshmallows, she was so taken, flustered, wanton and horny.

Marlon spoke stealthily off into her ear.

“I want to be right up on your ass while I do this, Baby. I want to hear every breath you take, feel every single movement of that sweet body of you. Hear you…we’re alone…we’re alone.”

“Ah!” Larue gasped sharply, Marlon easing that length into her, pushing her deepest innermost folds back as she struggled to accept him.

“I know Baby…it’s big and you’re so small…but young as you are…you’ve got a lot of stretch…Ugh!”

“Oh no…oh my God…Ah!” Larue cried hoarsely, reaching back and holding onto Marlon’s massive ass cheeks as he found his rhythm and was merrily plugging away at her, his breathing heavy, but not strained.

Marlon Jackson knew what he was doing, and fucking Larue to insanity was his area of expertise.

His crotch was flapping sternly, his mouth on her throat and shoulders, hands up and kneading her firm breasts to a goo.

“Ugh, oh yes, Ugh, oh yes…good pussy…tight pussy…”He murmured, hand brushing her hair out his face, movements quickening

“I--I can’t hold on much longer…I can’t! MARLON I CAN’T! MARLON! MARLON-AH-MARLON-AH-AH-AH-AH-AAAAAHHHH!”

Larue, shaken to the core, and losing the battle to keep an orgasm at bay shrieked and tried to pull away from Marlon before the feeling overtook her.

Marlon immediately placed both arms around her waist, keeping her against him as his pace never broke.

“I’m not letting you go.” He growled his voice hitting it‘s deepest registers. “You wanted to fuck me, been wanting to fuck me…I’ve seen you--Ugh!--prancing around in spandex with those tits and ass in my face. You’re getting what you want! GODDAMN IT!”

Marlon’s voice transformed and became alarmingly calm.

“I’m going to come…”

Talk about the power of persuasion.

At the very mention, Larue could no long hold on.

“Aaaaah! Ahhhh! Fuck me! Fuck me! Aaaaah! Marlon!”

And unleashed a torrent all over his rapidly plunging rod of destruction.

“Yes Baby, you do that…you come for me. You come for your Marlon! Come for me! Squirt it--- Squirt for Daddy--GRRRRR!” He was sounding less human more animal.

“Oh shit…here it comes--my turn!”

Marlon Jackson was quite noisy.

“Oh, yeah….YEAH! YEAH AAOW! AAOW! HOLY--AAOW! AW-AW-AW-DAMN IT-AW-SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.”

He howled like the heated beast he truly was.

At the last moment, Marlon ripped his dick from Larue and panting wildly, he hugged her tighter than before, to the point he nearly cracker her ribs, his meat trapped between them.

There was a new, hot wetness spurting skywards and dousing Larue’s back.

“Aw, it’s a lot….holy shit….oh girl, Baby!” Marlon jerked against her, breaths heavy, his flesh warm against her.

“Sweet Jesus….”

Slowly, very, slowly, Marlon released Larue and she slumped against the wall.

“Are you alright?” Marlon wondered when he noticed Larue wasn’t looking at him.

“Yes…”She nodded staring off into space, as Marlon moved away from her, returning with a bar of Dove soap.

Larue was silent as he began lathering her body, staring through the water, allowing herself to be washed by his gentle hands.

Sudsy, Marlon paused to soap himself up, and Laure spoke, barely aware of it.

Halfway breathless she wondered,

“What happens now?”

Those caring, deep gold eyes glowed with affection, as Marlon positioned her directly beneath the showerhead, rising her body.

“I take you home with me, that’s what happens now, Larue.”

Larue, lungs deflating, threw herself against Marlon.

“I…I know…I know…” Marlon chuckled, mouth finding Larue’s and connecting hotly. “I love you too, Baby.”

As the sun rose, causing dawn to break on the sleepy city of Atlanta, on the outskirts of town, inside the ivy-covered fences of a gated community, a large, luxury vehicle stopped before one of the many mansions.

The driver’s door opened, and a man, in a gold sweater, jeans and Ferrari emblem cap slipped out, made his away around the car and opened the passenger door.

A young woman, draped only in a black terrycloth robe, bearing the name ‘Marlon Jackson’ stitched in silver, was helped down from the car.

Smiling, the removed the sunglasses hiding her lover’s eyes and slipped her arm through his.

And the two of them continued on into the large house sprawling before them, to sleep and wake up to their new life, together.