A DECADENT LIFE: MARTY TREMONT (fm:interracial, 2034 words) [8/8] show all parts | |||
| Author: Thomas B | |||
| Added: May 07 2026 | Views / Reads: 49 / 44 [90%] | Part vote: 9.63 (2 votes) | |
| An African woman falls into Marty's lap | |||
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was on a table. With it was a note. “Marty, thank you. How very kind of you. As a way of saying thank you, would you be my guest in the dining room at the Classic Hotel, 8 pm? Skaya.”Of course I’d be there. My mind wandered back to watching her in the pool. Gorgeous. Lovely titties and, I didn’t mention it, there wasn’t a visible hair on her pussy. Oh, the possibilities.
I wore the white dinner jacket. It was almost my uniform when I went to the Classic.
As I said above, there weren’t many people from Africa here in Agde. I easily recognized her. “Good evening, Skaya. Thank you for the invitation.”
She stood up. Perhaps it was the heels, but I didn’t recall her being so tall. The heels were red, matching the shiny red dress, red purse, red lipstick and red dangling earrings. In contrast to her black skin, the look was stunningly beautiful. As upscale as the Classic was, Skaya may have been over-dressed.
I hadn’t thought about it before, but I guessed she was in her mid-forties. “No, Marty, I still don’t think it’s enough of a thank you for the pool this morning. It was marvelous.”
“Glad you enjoyed it. While you’re here, come by any time. The gate will be unlocked.”
“Thank you, but now I’m famished. Oh, I’m drinking a very, very dry martini. What about you?”
Just then the waiter arrived. As I said, I was a regular here. The waiter brought me my favorite champagne. I didn’t even have to ask.
“You said you were working here. What do you do?”
“I work for the Angolan government. We’re installing a nationwide internet system, and there’s a small company in Montpelier that has what we need. I’m here to make the arrangements.”
“And a weekend on the beach at the Classic is a bonus.”
Skaya laughed, “except for the beach and water, but the hotel is fabulous. Have you ever stayed here?”
I explained about staying here while I closed on my house. I didn’t mention the numerous women who’d invited me to their rooms. Going back to Suzette, I’d had some wonderful nights here. Not to mention mornings and afternoons.
Rene, the waiter, who knew me, handed me the check after dinner. “No, please, I invited you,” Skaya protested.
“You’re a guest in my country, it’s the least I can do.”
She laughed, “Marty, it’s not your country. You’re an American but thank you. How about if I have the bartender send an after dinner drink to my room? It’s the least I can do.”
I’d had offers like this before. Rarely was I disappointed.
Tonight was no different. In her room, “Marty, I need to change into something more comfortable.”
Skaya did not come out of the bathroom until room service left. With good reason, ‘something more comfortable’ was, nothing like Madame Beauregard-Wilmotte wore. Skaya wore a transparent white camisole that came to her belly button and matching bikini panties. Against her black skin, everything was visible. I stared. “Marty, “ she laughed, “you saw a lot more of me this morning.”
“I have to admit, this morning, I thought my heart was going to stop and my eyes were going to pop out of my head.”
“Not bad for a woman, who would be embarrassed to tell you her age.” She pirouetted.
Like I said I thought she was in her mid-forties. “Now, Marty, I thought you looked very handsome in your dinner jacket and bow tie in the dining room, but we’re not in the dining room and it seems only fair that you get as undressed as I am,” she smiled as she put her arms around my neck and kissed me on the mouth.
As they say, that’s an offer I couldn’t refuse. I started to take off my jacket.
There was another giggle, “while you do your jacket and shirt, I’ll help you with your pants.”
Did you know that black pussy is every bit as tasty and sweet as white pussy?
You know I just couldn’t resist. Mrs. Wilton had taught me well. All the other women I’d slept with here in Agde improved my cunnilingus skills.
I didn’t have an ego; thinking that I knew everything about eating pussy. It didn’t matter if it was someone like Suzette or someone as old as Madame Beauregard-Wilmotte or someone like Frau Schmidt who gave me directions in German. I listened and learned from all of them.
Now, Skaya DeSilva was the beneficiary. After a few minutes of using our tongues and our hands exploring, I told her straight out, “Skaya, before I make love to you, the gentlemanly thing to do is . . .”
Then I went down on her.
“Oh Marty, I was hoping to get you into bed, but I didn’t expect this.” She spread her legs wide.
“You’re a beautiful woman. I hope I can please you.” Then my tongue started.
If you recall, Skaya’s pussy was bare. She had thick, soft labia majora. When my tongue wasn’t sliding up and down her slit or it wasn’t trying to fuck her pussy hole or it wasn’t familiarizing itself with her engorged clitoris, I was rubbing my face in those lovely soft pussy lips.
“Delicious, tasty, sweet,” I mumbled.
“Marty, tell me more and keep eating me. Your tongue, oh yeah, your tongue is marvelous.”
When Skaya had an orgasm, she went crazy; wrapping her legs around my head in a vice and then fucking my face.
There was more than one, and then, “Marty, oh Marty, you have to stop. Please stop.”
I stopped. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, oh God no. My pussy is so ready for your cock. Come up here and fuck me.”
As I slowly mounted her, “Marty, tell me again how sweet my pussy is.”
I did.
“Later tonight or in the morning, I hope you remember that. My pussy won’t forget how good you were to her.” She kissed me on the mouth with her tongue. She laughed, “my pussy does taste good, doesn’t it?”
Skaya was every bit as animated when we fucked as she’d been when I was eating her. She was as good a fuck as I’d ever had. We rolled around on the bed; her ass bouncing up and down; those long legs in constant motion.
“Marty, I usually can’t have an orgasm like this, but if you let me get on top, I can make myself cum.”
We rolled over. For a moment my cock was out of that juice pussy; for a moment we were both disappointed.
Then Skaya impaled herself on my cock and her smile lit up the room. “Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah,” she rode my cock, while I had a perfect view of her tits.
You would think that with all the tits I saw on the beach in Agde, I would no longer be impressed. Except for Rania, almost every woman on the beach was topless. Young tits, old tits, big, saggy tits like Claudia St. Germain’s or perfect tits like Suzette’s.
You would be wrong. Skaya’s tits were flawless: black orbs, topped with huge black nipples. They bounced along with her. They bounced until my hands were all over them.
Speaking of black: Skaya stayed in Agde for six months, race or skin color never came up. Delicious, sweet, lovely, huge, hard, magnificent, tasty were adjectives we used all the time but never white or black.
I mentioned she stayed six months. She was only scheduled to stay two weeks. I’m not sure I had anything to do with it, but I was the beneficiary.
The company that Skaya was working with for the Angolan government was so impressed that they hired her by offering her more money than she could dream of. Her salary included a housing stipend, which she pocketed because she was my house guest.
The benefits of being my house guest included having her pussy ravished almost daily by my tongue; having that same pussy invaded by, in her words, ‘the biggest cock I’ve ever had.’ Further benefits included getting to suck the ‘biggest cock I’ve ever had,’ on an almost daily basis.
“Marty, promise me, that you’ll let me keep practicing until I can swallow all of it.”
Who says no to that?
I was getting her great blowjobs; I was getting fucked almost every day and I was eating the tastiest pussy anyone could imagine. Why would I want it to end?
I didn’t. Six months later Skaya informed me that she was home sick. “Marty, I have to go. It’s time. I miss my family.”
It was a sad goodbye. It was a fucking, sucking, pussy eating goodbye.
My depression didn’t last long. Just opening the curtains in the morning, sitting on my balcony sipping my morning coffee, there were always lots of tits and pussy and I knew from experience that most were available.
That’s not what happened.
TO BE CONTINUED
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| This is part 8 of a total of 8 parts. | ||
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