Choosing Love

Presley was having lunch at a prime power lunch spot in DC, holding court for a bunch of people that talked at each other and lusted after Presley. And then she saw Mo, in a crowd of other Black Democrats, being hustled to a small too table far in the back.

"Hey, Mo," Presley said. Mo looked over his shoulder warily at Presley. They were still supposed to be a secret, he knew, and sometimes she liked to have a loud confrontation now and then. It got him riled up in the bedroom anyhow. Instead, she leapt onto him, wrapping her smooth, toned, tanned legs around him and kissing him deeply. His hands clutched at her big bubble ass, and her dress rode up, exposing an equally tanned posterior.

"I want you, and only you," she whispered into his ear before kissing him deeply. "And I want everyone to know it."

Mo felt the eyes of her simp friend, Robbie on him, glowering and his fingers curling into a fist. Suck it, cracker, Mo thought as he kissed Presley again.