Lucy tries her hand at seduction

"The moving business must really do a body good!" I compliment the eighteen year old son of the head deliveryman. "Your body is incredible! It's so buff and cut!" I coo as I step next to him, trying to beat my sexpot cousin to the punch. He smiles at me as I rub the smooth ripples of muscle across his chest. My hand turns all slick as my palm slides through the sweat of his exertions.

"And these abdominals!" I continue to gush as I run my hand lower, across the sections of defined stomach muscle. "You must do a lot of situps!" I coo.

"Ah, not really!" he says, trying to sound cool, but looking embarrassed at the compliments.

"It's a shame you have to wear those baggy coveralls. What a waste to hide the results of all your hard work!" I continue.

My cousin steps up to the coffee-skinned Junior from the other side. I could tell she didn't like being excluded from the competition one bit!

"What my dear cousin really means is she'd like to see you naked all the time. I'm sure she's even more interested in your love muscle. Do you want to show that to us too?" she asks matter-of-factly as she leans sexily against him, then brings a hand down to fondle the package inside the well-worn fabric of his little red running shorts.

"Stacy, what are you doing?" I ask, not too shocked that she was trying to interrupt my attempt at seducing the young black man, more at the brazenness with which she approached this stranger.

"Stop being such a slut!" I tell her, yanking at the shorts' waistband in an attempt to free him from her clutch.

There is a sharp, short, tearing sound. I have tugged so hard, the fatigued elastic has given way. His faded red running trunks are now only held in place by both our clutching hands.

"Well, what's going on here?" Soloman Sr.'s voice booms suddenly from just behind us. "I mean there's plenty of black cock for you two white girls to play with!"

Both Anastacia and I turn our heads as one and see the elder of the movers stripped of his coveralls as well. While not the Adonis his son is, the barrel-chested man is very powerful-looking. Looking equally forboding is the thick length of cock that hangs, half hard, from the last of his clothing, his boxer shorts.

Stacy and I both look at each other.