Juicy Mango – Part One  

By K.C.  

We pass each other every day in the breezeway. “Wah gwaan, Pretty Lady?” he asks  with a smile. He wears his locks up and out of his face with the sides and back faded down.  Hartley is his name, and he is equal parts handsome and polite.  

Shortly after he moved in, Hartley and I almost collided in front of his apartment. I was  rushing to my car when he opened his front door to pick up the package sitting on his doormat.  He must have been cooking because the smell of curry and onions rushed out when he opened  the door. Hartley examined me from head to toe. 

“Yuh look nice. When yuh return, come get some…food.” His eyes twinkled with  mischief, and his big lips dripped with lust as he lingered a little too long on each syllable.  “I will—if it’s not too late,” I said before leaving in a hurry.  

“Never too late for you, Pretty Lady. Come see me anytime.”  

Damn, Hartley was fine. I definitely wanted something from him, but it wasn’t food.  

After months of flirty conversations, I finally accepted Hartley’s invitation to try his  homemade mango body butter. Kneeling at the foot of my bed, he wore nothing but a pair of  black and green shorts with a yellow “X” emblazoned across the crotch.  

“Yuh waan me to start with yuh back, or…?”  

“My legs,” I replied.  

Hartley warmed a small amount of body butter in his hands.  

“Yuh like it slow?” he asked.  

I nodded.  

For what felt like hours, he rubbed my left calf, then raised my leg to his shoulder and  rested it there.  

“Easier to rub yuh thigh dis way,” he reasoned.  

Raising one leg higher than the other caused my pink boyshorts to betray me. I felt the  cool air brush against my exposed labia. Hartley noticed it, too, and shifted his focus there. He  ran the backside of his middle finger along the delicate skin where the back of my thigh and ass  meet.  

“Shorts not the only pink ting I see,” he said.  

Hartley forgot all about the massage. Careful not to let his body butter-covered fingers  touch me, he teased my clit over my shorts and watched as my body trembled with delight. I  wanted to hide my excitement, but Hartley requested feedback.  

“Show me how much yuh like it,” he said.  

Hartley turned his head toward my foot and maneuvered my toes into his mouth. I  moaned as I felt a gush of wetness between my legs. He sucked my toes and massaged my clit  until I was weak with pleasure. I was ready for him to put his mouth in other places. Hartley  removed my foot from his mouth and placed it on the bed. He lowered his body and leaned in  toward my inner thighs. His chocolate skin glistened with sweat.  

“Can I taste?” he asked. I could feel his warm breath on my skin.  

I nodded.  

Hartley slid my boyshorts off.  

“Pretty pum pum…,” he whispered as he admired me. Hartley used his thumb and index  finger to press my labia together, squeeze, then release. My bean was throbbing so intensely  that I couldn’t keep my legs still. Hartley enjoyed watching me squirm. 

“Mi waan yuh to cum on mi face,” he said.  

He gently parted my pussy lips and placed his wide tongue on my swollen clit. It felt so  good that I forgot to breathe.  

“Don’t stop,” I moaned, moving my hips with invitation.  

Hartley placed his hands underneath my ass and lifted my hips closer to his mouth, like  he was trying to extract every drop of sweet nectar from a bowl. He licked and sucked  everything. Hartley inserted his tongue into every crevice and tongue-fucked me good. As his  pace quickened, I struggled to keep my legs open. My thighs collapsed around Hartley’s face as  I climaxed.  

I exhaled and rolled onto my side. Hartley sat up and wiped my juices from his mouth.  He kneeled at the edge of the bed and looked at me while stroking the imprint of his thick,  protruding dick. Hartley clutched the base and taunted me by gently shaking it, letting the top  half droop like a heavy cucumber. The “X” on his shorts seduced me like the mark on a treasure  map.  

“Yuh waan more?” he asked.