Her Best Friend's Black Crush

Emily had been wet for Jamal since the night Kayla first dragged him to that campus party six months ago. Twenty-two, white, blonde, the perfect little sorority princess on the outside, and inside she was a filthy mess every time her best friend’s boyfriend walked into a room. Tall, dark-skinned, cut like a fucking statue from all those hours on the field, Jamal moved with that lazy, cocky confidence that made her cunt clench. Twenty-four, black, college athlete, and every time he laughed at one of Kayla’s jokes Emily imagined that deep voice growling against her ear while he split her open.

Kayla was gone for the weekend—some family thing two states over—and Emily had been trying (and failing) not to think about it. She was sprawled on her apartment couch in nothing but a thin white tank top and the tiniest pair of gray cotton shorts that barely covered the bottom curve of her ass when the knock came. She knew that knock. Her pussy fluttered instantly.

She opened the door and there he was, filling the frame, dark skin gleaming under the hallway light, white t-shirt stretched across that broad chest, basketball shorts hanging low on his hips. A forgotten gym bag dangled from one massive hand.

“Kayla left this at my place,” Jamal said, that slow smile already curling his full lips. “Figured I’d drop it off before I hit the gym.”

“Come in,” Emily said, stepping aside. Her voice came out huskier than she meant. The second the door clicked shut behind him the air changed. Thick. Charged. She could smell his cologne mixed with clean sweat and something darker, masculine. Her nipples hardened against the thin tank immediately.

Jamal set the bag down but didn’t move toward the door again. His eyes dragged over her—bare legs, the way the shorts rode up, the obvious stiff peaks of her tits. He didn’t bother hiding it.

“Damn, Em. You always walk around like that when Kayla’s gone?”

She bit her lip, heart hammering. Months of secret staring, of touching herself in the shower while picturing his thick black cock, of pretending she wasn’t jealous every time Kayla crawled into his lap. It all boiled over right there.

“Only when I’m hoping someone specific might stop by,” she said, bold and filthy, and watched his eyebrows lift.

He chuckled, low and dirty. “That right?”

Emily turned, walking toward the kitchen like she needed a drink, putting an extra sway in her hips. The shorts rode higher. She “accidentally” dropped a dish towel, then bent straight over at the waist to grab it, ass out, the thin cotton stretching tight over her plump cheeks, the fabric slipping into the cleft so he could see the exact shape of her. She stayed down longer than she needed to, knowing exactly what she was doing.