On her first day she made friends with one of her co-workers, Robin. Robin was the type of girl you wanted but thought was out of your reach so would ...ever talk. She was five-eleven with blonde hair to the middle of her back and deep blue eyes. That first night when I went to pick her up she offered to give Robin a ride home. We all hit it off and spent most evenings together. We were all just 18 (yes, early to be engaged and that didn't work out) so we didn't have much choices in what to do.. Their cocks were tenting out their shorts, ready for what would come next.Leslie turned away from them and unfastened her bra. She paused, holding the cups in place.“It’s not like we haven’t seen them before,” Jay reminded her.Leslie sighed and let her arms drop. She turned back around and both boys drew in their breath at the sight. They’d seen them before, sure, but only while she was lying down. Standing up, her barely C cup boobs stood out proudly, her nipples pointing at the excited. A short, stocky black man in a tuxedo met her at the door and escorted her to the bar. She could feel everyone's eyes on her as she gave the bartender her drink order. She was the only white person in the Club. She felt like celebrity as men studied her slender body from head to toe.Within minutes, a tall, handsome black man approached her and introduced himself as Tyrell Johnson; the owner of Club de l' amour. He wanted to welcome her to his nightclub and invited her to join him at his private. He pushed himself between her legs, which immediately squeezed tight around his mid-section, all at once she grabbed his hard cock and guided it home against her opening, without a word he pushed forward slowly, one long complete stroke that buries his entire length deep inside of her. Her head lilted back into the grass as she pushed herself down against him. They were as two young fumbling lovers, all passion and pleasure, instinct, need, no grace or style, nerve endings wired and pulsing in.