“Yes!” I said after 30 minutes of searching through drawers and cabinets. I found a small jump drive. I slapped my bare ass and headed back to my office.
I managed to save all the data on my laptop. I opened up my email program next. The wifi had been turned off by the IT department, so no new emails, if there were any, came through. I re-read the company announcement about its sale.
Elite Magazine was sold off by its parent publishing company to a private equity group named The Blackwell Group. The email indicated they owned several companies. One of them being a nationwide travel agent company. Several marketing firms in LA were owned by them. Also, they owned Elite Magazine’s number one competitor – King Monthly. It was pretty much the same as Elite Magazine. Articles were almost identical. Rap album reviews, movie reviews, a fitness section, cars, and of course women – most of whom were white.
The Blackwell Group promptly discontinued Elite and moved all the advertising customers over to King Monthly. Seems like they could’ve owned both publications and raked in more profit. Maybe there was a vendetta The Blackwell Group had against the publishing company they purchased Elite Magazine from.
I got angry again. It made me sick. I closed my laptop, leaving it on my desk, took one final tour of the floor, put on my clothes and left.
“Hi,” I said to Alfred. He nodded and smiled at me. I handed him my keycard.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he took it. I stared at it sitting on his desk.
“Ma’am?”
“Sorry,” I shook the cobwebs. “I’m really going to miss this place.”
“Yeah, a lot of sad ladies have come through here recently. When the landlords sell the building off soon, I reckon I’ll be out of a job. It’s a temp position anyway,” Alfred shrugged.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“That’s how it is sometimes,” Alfred said. “You have a wonderful night, ma’am.”
“You too,” I turned to leave, but something stopped me. “Hey, I’m Devin by the way,” I peered at his name tag again. “Alfred, when is your shift over?”
“Oh, in about an hour or so.”
I placed my hand on his old, wrinkled one and leaned in close. “I’m going to check into my hotel, get a quick shower, and come back here.”
“Ma’am the building will be closed then. I’ll be leaving.”
“I know. You’ll be leaving with me.”
-3-
A couple hours later, I was gripping the sheets, on all fours, with Alfred working away behind me. That old black man still had insane stamina.
“Ah, Alfred!” I cried.
“There we go, ma’am. You just cum on that old black dick as much as you want. You hear?” Alfred said, giving it to me really good.
“Yes!” I was cumming again.
In between sex sessions, in between me sucking all over his beautiful old cock, in between me kissing and sucking his big balls, in between him eating my pussy until I shook with orgasmic joy, I planned and schemed. I had to do something; I had to at least try. I wondered if I could save Elite Magazine. I had no idea how though.
Another few hours passed, Alfred was snoring softly. I was in his arms, browsing the internet on my phone. I was researching The Blackwell Group. I found a few articles about the purchase, about how they felt King Monthly was far superior to Elite Magazine which prompted them to do away with the latter, and I read a few entries about the company itself. I found an article about a man named Neal. It went into detail about how he oversaw the purchase and was instrumental in closing Elite Magazine. Neal was based right there in Atlanta.
A wicked grin came over my face when I saw Neal’s picture. He was a very attractive black man.
***
The next morning, I was sucking Alfred off in the shower. I turned around and he took me from behind again. I took him to breakfast, then by his small apartment, then finally, back to his post for the day. I told him I’d pick him up from work and take him to dinner then bed with me again.
I went shopping for a nice business suit. I extended my stay at the hotel and came up with my plan. I learned as much as I could about Neal. I was determined to meet with him.
I called Bea when I returned to my room after lunch. “Hello?” Eric answered.
“Uh, hi, Eric. Is Bea around?” I asked, hearing a moan in the background.
“Yeah she is. She’s a little busy though,” Eric told me. I heard more moans and sucking sounds. Bea was doing what she did best – sucking black cock.
“Ok, fine. I’ll talk to her later then. Bye sweetie,” I hung up and called Nicky.
“Hello?” my nephew answered.
“Hi there. Is your mother busy?” I asked, wondering if Nicky was sucking cock too.
“A little, she’s putting suntan lotion on me,” Gabe said.
“Awww, that’s sweet,” I grinned.
“Meh. Her hands are greasy,” Gabe said.
“Who is it?” I heard my sister ask.
“Aunt Devin,” Gabe answered.
“Here, I’ll talk to her,” Nicky said. It was several seconds, I assumed she was wiping her hands. “Hey.”
“Hi, things going ok with you and your son?”
“Wonderful,” I heard her kiss Gabe somewhere, probably his cheek.
“Good. Have you and him been getting closer?”
“A little more each day.”
“Think it’ll end up, you know,” I suggested.
“Maybe. Feels like it might.”
“It’ll be my secret. Maybe because I don’t have a son is why I’m rooting for you two,” I said.
“We’ll see!”
“Anyway, the reason for my call is to let you know I’m staying in Atlanta a little longer. There’s something I’m thinking about, something I want to try,” I explained.
“Sounds good. We’ll be here when you get back.”
“Great. Oh and get naked. If Gabe sees that body of yours, he’ll go crazy!”
“Ha! Sure, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Talk to you later,” I ended the call.
I paced back and forth around my room for the next few hours. “I’ll just show up. No, that won’t work,” I thought. “Maybe I’ll trick the receptionist, hmmm,” I looked out my window.
“What if…no, ugh!” I rubbed my temples, frustrated. It was almost time to pick up Alfred.
-4-
I was bouncing up and down on that old man’s dick after dinner. I treated him to a nice meal, and then fucked him until he couldn’t stay awake anymore.
I slid off him, sucking hungrily on his cock. His cum was my dessert.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm, you love you some black dick! Don’t you?” old Alfred said after spewing his load in my mouth.
“All my life,” I said, licking his cock clean.
“Some women are made for it,” he said.
“Mmm, I love it,” I moaned. An idea struck me. If I was able to score a meeting with Neal somehow, I could present this idea to him. Elite Magazine could be relaunched. It wouldn’t be the same thing, no articles about music, movies, entertainment, cars and so on. It would have picture spreads of white women loving black men. They could be pornographic in nature – celebrating black cock. There could be a few articles, sex stories about interracial adventures perhaps.
“Yes,” I thought, sucking Alfred until he passed out. I climbed off the bed and took a shower, fingering myself until I climaxed.
“Yes!” I cried out from pleasure, but also at my idea. Would Neal buy it? Maybe, it was worth a shot.
The next day I made several phone calls to The Blackwell Group, hoping I could get Neal on the phone. No luck. I even drove by the building, hoping maybe to run into Neal outside. I didn’t see him. I drove by the old Elite Magazine building and let Alfred bend me over his desk to empty his balls into me after lunch. I kissed the old man, telling him I’d pick him up later dinner and sex.
We fucked until around midnight, when Alfred was having trouble staying awake. In his arms, staring at his black, sleeping cock, I decided in the morning I’d simply show up and hope for the best. I had my idea for a relaunched Elite Magazine; I just needed to meet with Neal.
***
“Ma’am, guests sign in here,” The front desk security guard told me.
“Oh, right, sorry,” I said, walking over. “I have a meeting with The Blackwell Group, I told him.”
He said nothing, nodding to the form. I signed it and made my way to the elevator. I was early, not many people were there. I hoped Neal was.
I exited the elevator; a receptionist desk right in front of me. Behind the young brunette giving me a strange look, there was a mural on the wall. It was of a black man’s abdomen with a small, white hand resting on it. I looked around. There were other murals along the halls. One was a tropical setting, a black man holding a white woman’s hand walking along the beach; another was of a white woman’s bare back, with a large black hand on it.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked.
“Um, yes, I was hoping to meet with Neal today. The agency sent me to help with his upcoming vacation plans,” I lied.
“I don’t know anything about that,” she said.
“Really?” I glanced to the mural of the man and woman on the beach. “They said he wanted to see me this morning,” I played with my blouse, pulling it aside a bit, showing her cleavage.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be right back.”
Twenty minutes passed, I heard muffled moans, and cries of pleasure coming from what I assume was Neal’s office. The receptionist finally emerged, her hair a mess, and her clothes hastily put back on.
“He doesn’t know anything about it, but he said you can come in anyway. Perhaps there was a scheduling miscommunication,” she told me.
“Thank you,” I smiled, and followed her to Neal’s huge double door office entrance.
She said nothing, motioning me to enter. I walked in, observing a big couch against the wall, a small table, some chairs, a huge desk, with windows behind it. Neal was sitting, looking blankly at me. I was frozen unable to speak. Even sitting down he appeared huge.
“Yes?” he spoke.
“Um, hi, listen, I want to talk about,” I stammered, having trouble concentrating in his somewhat imposing presence. I refocused, doing what I normally do with black men, picture them naked.
I took a deep breath, looked at him seductively, and started over. “Elite Magazine. I used to work there. It was my life. I want to talk about it, I want to share an idea with you, I want to relaunch it.”
“I thought this was about – ”
“I lied. Sorry. Hear me out before you throw me out,” I said, pulling a chair away from his desk, sitting in front of him.
Leave a Reply