Free Sex in the Hood Saga by White Chocolate

healthy and not get pregnant. No, the longer she looked at this guy, the more she thought about all the statistics he could help her become, and none of them were good.
    But the same media that had filled her mind with so many stereotypes about young black men had also made her father sound like a psychotic criminal for the past week. And today that same media was after her.
    Daddy’s deep, comforting voice echoed in her head. “Never prejudge,” her father used to say. “Remember, the black farmer in overalls and a straw hat may be holding a sack full of hard earned cash to buy a new pick-up truck, while the white man in the Brooks Brothers suit driving the Cadillac may be on his way to federal prison for bribery and murder.”
    Victoria’s head ached from hunger. Her stomach cramped. Her pussy was finally quiet and calm.
    â€œVee,” Henry whispered. “Tha’s the only cat you got to know ’round here. Let me at least introduce you. Then decide if you wanna go wit’ him.”
    Victoria nodded, taking Henry’s hand as he led her down the steps. They stopped on the sidewalk where a golden beam of sunlight was slicing through the trees. The guy in the Pistons jersey was looking around, casting a mean look at those girls on the porch across the street, his hand on the right front pocket of his baggy, saggy jeans.
    She would talk with the bald guy first and figure out if he felt safe. Even though his whole image, when viewed through her lens of aristocratic suburbia, was screaming “Drug dealer!” he actually looked just like that new NBA star, Tyrell Jackson. Victoria knew, because her brother was a basketball fanatic. He was always talking about games and players and statistics.
    I have no way to reach my own brother. Don’t even know where he is . . . Or my sister. Melanie is probably going straight to the convent. I’m all alone.
    Her jittery insides were making her pussy ache for attention. This fear, on top of the grief of losing her father and her whole life, made her throat burn with dryness. Maybe it was because all the moisture in her body was getting sucked between her legs. She was so hungry and horny and sleepy, she could pass out right now and sleep for three days.
    She shivered because this guy was hot , so physically gorgeous that he didn’t look real. His vibe was so cool, so sexy, so powerful that it stunned her. All she could do was stare.
    He was so tall, her eyes were level with his solar plexis, the center of the chest that Da Vinci was always diagramming as the central point on human beings. His open-necked shirt made a little frame around that swath of hairless skin. It contrasted with the white linen so vividly, it mesmerized her. She couldn’t help imagining what it would look like if their bodies were tangled together—her buttermilk legs, arms and ass wrapped all around his dark chocolate muscles.
    â€œVee, this The Duke. Duke Johnson,” Henry said. “Duke, Victoria Winston.”
    Victoria looked up into his eyes.
    Oh. My. God. Her pussy creamed. She felt dizzy because his eyes were like giant onyx jewels, just like the ones in her necklace. The way he was looking at her, his eyes were sparkling down with equal intrigue.
    His face was as masculine and sculpted as Michelangelo’s David. His skin was taut and flawlessly stretched over a broad jaw, angular cheekbones, a wide forehead, and a thick neck so dark in the creases that it shimmered with iridescence.
    His arms, from where his shirt ended just above his elbows, all the way down to his enormous and elegant hands, were just as beautiful. The distance between the base of his thumb and the tip of his index finger, which all the girls at school swore equaled the length of a guy’s dick, seemed to stretch from here to eternity.
    Victoria’s body ached for the comfort of cuddling up and curling up in his length and his strength. What she was feeling was far