Twerk for Black

By Bobbi Love

After Jeff finds out that his conservative white wife has a hidden talent for "booty dancing," he starts making her play a game with him so that he can appreciate her "assets." The couple couldn't be happier until one day they find themselves living with a roommate: an older, intimidating, surly black man. First the black man takes over the house. Then the black man takes over the booty dancing wife.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bobbi Love
• Release date: Oct 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005545321

Bobbi Love

Hi, I'm Bobbi Love. Obviously, this is not my real name. This is only my fake name. Hm, what else? Well, I'm from Texas. I was born in 1985. I've always had a very dirty imagination, I suppose. I wrote my first "novel" when I was eleven years-old. (It was about a group of mermaids who started an all-girl band, ha ha.) But after that I sort of stopped writing. Then I went to an all-girl college in Texas. Now I'm married to one of the best guys in the world. Unfortunately, he has no idea what a dirty, depraved, messed-up woman he has on his hands. Ha ha. Well, I hope you guys enjoy my stories. Please feel free to leave comments, or suggestions, or reviews or whatever. KK, thx!

Book preview

Twerking for Black

Interracial, Cuckold, Hotwife Erotica

Copyright 2020 Bobbi Love

Published by Bobbi Love at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Table of Contents

Twerking for Black

Other books by this author

Twerking for Black

1.

Under normal circumstances, Jeff would have ignored the sounds, rolled over, and gone back to sleep immediately. Sundays were his only day to sleep in with his wife and he didn't intend to let some noisy neighbors spoil that. But then he heard the pounding sounds get louder, and louder, before finally his own name was being called out. Damn it! Whatever happened to respecting a man's castle?

Jeff's annoyance vanished the moment he saw her. Somehow his wife had managed to lock herself out on the balcony of their 14th floor apartment. She looked so vulnerable, lost, and sexy. She had flowing blonde hair that fell a little past her shoulder and bright Nordic blue eyes. But seeing the impatient look on Kristin's face now, he sighed, Good thing I wasn't sleeping, or anything.

With a huff, she jiggled the handle of the sliding glass door to show that once again the faulty latch had struck again.

Okay, okay! Jeff told his wife. Keep your panties on.

Not that she was actually wearing panties.

He saw her standing there, looking sexy in a pair of light blue pajama shorts that barely covered the tops of her thighs; and a light grey, very nice, very fitted tank top. Thank you, she said, with exaggerated courtesy, after he'd slid the door open and moved to the side. Jeff, I thought you said that you'd call about having them replace that lock?

Before her husband could respond, his nose twitched with the strong smell of marijuana. A quick check of her deep blue eyes revealed them to be perfectly bloodshot now. Don't you potheads ever give it a rest?

I told you not to order that final round of shots last night at the club, she said. You know alcohol keeps me from sleeping good.

I'm the opposite.

She shrugged indifferently. Thank god for the herb though.

Any left?

See for yourself, she said, passing him on her bare feet as she made her way to the kitchen for snacks and ice cold beverages.

But Jeff did not bother to turn away at the moment. There was something much more important. The pajama shorts did very little to hide her pale-tan white buttocks which enticingly wiggled with every step of her small pink toes. Kristin had played competitive girls soccer all the way through college and it showed in how she was built. She wasn't the tallest woman, but her legs were perfectly shaped with just the right combination of softness and muscle to make her the envy of all her girlfriends.

Realizing that he was already aroused, he followed her into the kitchen like a panting puppy dog. The vexation he'd felt moments ago had completely vanished.

At the moment, Kristin was in front of the refrigerator, trying to decide whether or not the leftover Chinese on the bottom shelf was still safe to eat. As soon as she bent over for the white container, Jeff's virility sprang through the front of his boxers, and he stepped forward, grabbing her hips, and lovingly greeted her round, silky bottom with over five inches of husbandly affection.

She swatted him away. Get that thing away from me! Gross. I'm eating!

You shouldn't have woken him up.

Don't pout!

I'm not pouting. Is it my fault that I'm married to one sexy little piece of ass?

Gross. I so hate it when you talk like a Neanderthal.

That's funny, Jeff said, retreating, tucking himself back into his boxer shorts. You didn't hate it last night. In fact, I seem to remember you enjoying it. Three times? Is that the right number? Didn't you say that you came —

She turned, stared daggers at him, causing her husband to freeze on the spot. I was drunk, dear. That doesn't count. Yes, of course, I enjoyed myself. We both did. But now all I want is for a few minutes to enjoy this Sesame Chicken. Is that okay?

Fine, Jeff said, sulking all the way out onto the balcony, where he saw the glass pipe of marijuana, still smoldering with the dregs of the bowl.

Weed was still a novelty for both of them. One of the perks of moving here for their jobs was that they could now legally smoke marijuana whenever they wanted. No more buying from some sketchy figure at the dorm. Now you just waltzed right into a brick-and-mortar shop and told them your favorite brand. What exciting times they were living in. And though neither Jeff or Kristin could be considered hardcore pot heads, they'd found that acquiring the drug had inserted a degree of edginess into their otherwise respectable lives. Not to mention that one of the side-effects seemed to be severe horniness.

Jeff took a couple of small hits and walked back into the living room.

Kristin was on the couch now, devouring the last remnants of the Chinese food. Jeff sat next to