1. Queening for a Day


    Date: 10/25/2014, Categories: Fiction, Authoritarian, Black, Cock & ball torture, Discipline, Domination/submission, Female Domination, Interracial, Oral Sex, Pegging, Author: afroerotik, Rating: 66.7, Source: sexstories.com

    the games he had witnessed her play. He felt drained yet satisfied in a way he’d never felt before. Here was this petite woman, clearly more than just his equal, it was more than evident she was his superior. His intellectual libido was stimulated beyond belief. Throughout the game she didn’t say a word, she concentrated. She watched him, studied his moves. Bret was off his normal game but he knew that even at his best she still had the skills to beat him. Of course it didn’t help that he was intellectually stimulated which made him partially erect. Pushing his chair back from the table, Bret extended his hand and said, “Great game, thanks so much.” He’d wanted her to win but he never imagined that she could do it without him throwing the game. Her skill set exceeded his which said a lot. Her victory was real and he felt defeated but wildly alive for the first time in a long time as strange as that may sound. She reached out and shook his hand and replied, “Come on, let’s go.” She grabbed her backpack and tossed it to him. He clutched it close as he followed her, running to catch up when he realized exactly what her invitation was; watching her butt with every step that she took, hypnotized by her unspoken power over him. They walked to a bus stop and Bret intervened, “I have a car,” but she ignored him. They sat down and she turned to him and formally introduced herself. “I’m Shauntay, I was wondering when you were going to get up the nerve to come talk to me. You really ...
    played a great game. You had me in check that one time and I was thinking that you might end my reign as Queen of the park. What’s your name?” In a million years, Bret never would have imagined a woman named Shauntay would be able to beat him at chess. To him, Shauntay was a ghetto name and people from the ghetto . . . well, it didn’t even have to be said. There was nothing ghetto about this woman and as he repeated her name over and over in his head, it began to sound lyrical, beautiful, not at all ghetto. Realizing he hadn’t answered her question, he blurted out, “I’m Ted,” always thinking of protecting his identity, never wanting anyone to get to know the real him. Thinking it over, realizing that he might just be in the presence of the woman who could take him places he’d never been, he said, “I’m sorry, I lied. My name is Bret.” Still not quite sure he was up to the witty repartee stage of conversation just yet; he remained silent, waiting for her reprimand. None came but the bus did and they got on. He didn’t know where they were going, what they were doing; he just knew that he would do just about anything she asked of him. She was brazen, well, not so much brazen as she was bold. Shauntay caressed his body, felt for muscles, caressed his leg and openly stared at the erection she was causing him. The blood boiled in his veins as other passengers watched this open display of groping and Bret was helpless to do anything about it. He loved it and secretly wished she would go ...
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