Back That Ass Up

Author's Note: This story is completely fictional and did not happen. All characters and names are fictional and were made up. I do not make money from these stories. Please do not copy and plagiarize my work.

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Miami, Florida

The plane had touched down in southern Florida, merely minutes after the clock turned to 8 AM. Three hours was the standard flight time from New York City to Miami, counting all the security checks and need of retrieving luggage. The season of fall was in full swing, as anyone back home would be counting down the days of the dreaded winter season. Those were the months it was better to escape the north east and head down south for better weather. Michael Eboli had made that decision more times than not in the past decade since buying a vacation home down in Miami. Working and living in New York was only one part of his life, but come October, he didn't want to be anywhere else but Florida. There was no place like his home down under.

An escort vehicle had been arranged by Michael's security team, awaiting him outside the airport as the aging man stepped out in a black pinstripe suit. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes from the glaring sun up above. His short brown hair had a few layers of fading gray slicked back in the front. At forty-five years of age now, he kept the hair short to hide where age was beginning to catch up with him. It was one thing to stay in shape at the gym and eat healthy, but time remained undefeated throughout the course of life. Clutched in his left hand was the black plastic handle of a rolling luggage bag. Gold zippers went well with the black leather bag itself, sporting a style that matched the Rolex watch across his wrist. Being the type of man that stood out in a crowd based off his looks alone, Michael strolled without a car in the world as he met with his security outside the airport.

A slick black BMW was his car of choice when it came to getting chauffeured around by his security in Miami. The backseat was empty, reserved solely for Michael himself and a date if he ever had company. Some times he brought a woman along with him, but today's trip was one where the company was awaiting him back at his mansion. Having spent over twenty years working in the music industry as a financial consultant, Michael had made quite the contact list in his book of addresses and phone numbers. This career had started out in his youth, fresh out of college when he was offered a job to join a tour for an up and coming pop band recently signed to a major label. The band didn't go anywhere with flopping record sales and a breakup among the lead singers, but it was a foot in the door of the music industry for Michael.

Along the way, he had managed other bands connected to Colombia Records. Within a few years, Michael found himself looking for new opportunities with offering his skills behind a financial background. Five years after working at Colombia, he met Beyonce Knowles in the summer of 2005. She was preparing a new album, but wasn't ready for a tour. Looking for someone that could help manage the finances to her side projects involving fashion modelling and other ventures, Michael soon found himself newly employed to someone beyond the label. He could still remember the day it all began with Beyonce herself inviting him out for a date to discuss business matters. Early on, he got to learn that she liked to deal with matters in a more personal way than his previous employers. Everything came face to face between the two of them.

That had been more than fifteen years ago at this point. Life had changed greatly for Michael once he started working for Beyonce as she was growing her media empire. Over time, he met her husband Jay-Z and received a small dosage of what their married life was like. So many rumors swirled of cheating and other such scandals. Michael figured early on that both of them led a sort of hedonistic lifestyle, respecting one another's wishes not to indulge in their affairs. It was almost like an open relationship at times, as Michael was quick to realize that Beyonce herself had desires for him. As the years went by, their affairs remained a closed secret only to themselves. She moved him around, giving Michael different jobs with his financial background as he was led to marketing. It would be a few years before he finally got to help with a tour under her name.

All of that had been in the past now. For many years, they had kept what had become an on and off again relationship between work. This occasion of coming down to Miami for a meeting was another long awaited affair with the woman known as Queen B or 'Bey' as he liked to call her. Michael had never married throughout his twenties and thirties. Between his years of having continuous affairs with Beyonce, he did treat himself to escorts. Spending time working in London several years back after Beyonce became a mother, Michael had indulged himself with a series of 'parties' involving glamour models masquerading as high priced escorts. To hear him say it, he had to get his rocks off somehow. But those women couldn't amount to his black queen. Thankfully today, after not seeing her for the past five months, Michael would soon be reunited with Beyonce.

"Is she back at the mansion already?"

Michael spoke to his driver while sitting in the back seat. He pulled the sunglasses from his head, carefully folding them before opening his jacket to slip them in the inner left side pocket.

"Yes, the Queen B arrived a half-hour before your flight, sir."

"Good, see to it that she gets anything she wants."

It was routine for the security chief and driver to know any demands of luxuries and service when Beyonce was at his Florida home. Michael had instructed them some time back that at all times, they refer to her as Queen B. Sunlight peeled out of the windows of the car, glaring across his aging face and dark brown eyes as the BMW continued to roll down the streets. The last time Michael had been in Beyonce's company, he had been overlooking a marketing project from her recent adidas clothing and sneaker line. Ivy Park was an immediate success, just as planned without any doubts whatsoever. That was on the business side of things, but today was a more personal matter. She had her own vacation home across town in Miami, but tonight was meant to be an evening spent between Michael and Beyonce with no disturbances.

Last Friday had been the first time he spoke to her in a few months. Though he was older now, Michael couldn't fight off the surging feeling excitement that was rushing through his body. The relationship went so far back. On one hand, he knew he should've been grateful that she still liked to have affairs with him. On the other hand, Michael felt Beyonce couldn't quit him when she needed a different kind of taste from a man in life. Sitting back in the car, he quietly thought about that last photo shoot she had for Ivy Park. He went to bed last night fantasizing about that beautiful black ass. So plump and thick, oh how he couldn't want to squeeze those cheeks. He bit down on his bottom lip while thinking about that sweet black pussy. So juicy and sweet. It felt like it had been too long since the last time seen her great big tits or even touched them. Finally, there was eyes to look forward to. Dark brown hues that burned through his soul through the night.

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3 HOURS LATER

The sound of a glass touching metal was heard loud and clear throughout the living room as Beyonce sat down. She had finished what was a third glass of wine, sitting there with her strong legs crossed together. Her high heels had been removed from her feet hours earlier, sitting in another room as her feet were fully revealed to Michael's eyes, quickly noticing the red paint across her nails. Beyonce had arrived in what could best be described as a casual lazy look underneath a black trench coat. Michael was given a slight show when she pulled that trench coat off, revealing a pair of black booty shorts that covered her curvy hips and a cut T-shirt to reveal her tone stomach. She knew precisely what she wanted, coming dressed like that. No jewelry covered her dark skin. Her long brunette hair had curly blonde streaks, parted down the middle as usual.

"This is good wine you've got today, Mikey. What year is it?"

She spoke softly, gazing back at her empty glass and grazing her right hand index fingernail across the rim. Michael stood across the room, having taken off his suit hours earlier and changed into something more comfortable with white leisuire shorts and a button up matching shirt. He offered a smile before replying to Beyonce.

"It's nineteen-eighty-one, darling."

Smirking back at him, she uncrossed her legs before responding.

"The year of my birthday, huh? So I guess that's your way of saying sorry for missing out on my big fortieth."

Michael blushed. It was true that he missed out on her birthday party and perhaps he should've felt lucky that she didn't take it personal like some people would have. At his age, it was only a habit to begin making excuses for himself.

"I didn't want to disturb you on a day I knew you would be spending time with your family."

Crossing her arms, Bey got up from where she was sitting. She walked a little closer to Michael before responding.

"Really? Does my husband put you off that bad? Another man that knows I fuck you when I want to?"

Glaring at him after such blunt words, Beyonce knew how to get her point across when she needed to. Turning her view away from him, she left Michael to stand there for a moment and consider such words. If she wanted another man for such affairs, Beyonce had many other options besides him. Michael took a moment to think about her displeasure in his act of forgetting such an important birthday and then he spoke.

"Sorry about that. It wasn't personal, babe."

She turned around, uncrossing her arms while glancing back at him with a smirk across her face.

"I'll tell you what's personal. Me and you goin' upstairs. I don't think I need to remind you the real reason I'm here, Mikey. You know what I want."

Still smirking, she finished her words in a low voice.

"And you aren't gonna tell me no, are you?"

Shaking his head, he smiled back to her.

"Ever so eager to get to the point, Bey. You don't wanna wait until dinner before we take it upstairs and start fucking? I might, I ain't gonna lie. I sure wanna give it to you, but it's it's not even past five o' clock yet."

Now Beyonce was the one shaking her head with a giggle.

"You have a one track mind, you know that right? I didn't say anything about fucking... yet. We've got all day before the sunset. I had something else in mind."

"Like what?"

"Come and find out yourself."

Turning her back to him, it was time to stomp off. Bey knew where Michael's eyes would be glancing. Setting his sights on her thick black booty as those cheeks jiggled and shook, rubbing together from within the tight shorts she wore. His eyes couldn't look away in amazement of that famous world class ass, moving back and forth. Beyonce left him alone in the living room. Without her heels on, he couldn't hear her foot steps in the distance from outside. The grey walls covered every room of Michael's mansion from downstairs minus the living room that had been decorated with dark interior and red carpet. One would have to venture upstairs to find the similar interior decorations that fit the living room. Michael didn't care, as he wasn't here often enough to take such matters more seriously.

When he stepped out of the living room, one of his bodyguards was waiting down the hall. Michael ignored that man, as he was no important matter whatsoever. Up the stairs he marched, grabbing a hold of the cold metal rail with his right hand. A narrow hallway led to the upstairs rooms that included a master bedroom and what Michael liked to call, his 'personal sanctum'. He had a similar room back at his luxury apartment in New York. A special place where he liked to sit quietly and read books or enjoy the company of a woman. Knowing Beyonce well enough from past visits, it was easy for Michael to guess that she would head there rather than the bedroom. He didn't even bother peeking past the grey colored door to glance in his personal sleep room. Instead he stepped further down the hall, going for the door that was on the opposite wall and turning that brass knob to reveal what awaited his eyes.

There she sat on a high stool, phat ass sunk down into that plush cushion atop the dark pine wood frame. Beyonce had spread her legs out, pushing her toes into the carpet on the floor below, leaning over with her ass on full display, still in those same shorts she had been wearing. From where Michael stood in the doorway, he had a perfect view of her supreme buttocks on full display. Beyonce made an effort to pop her booty cheeks. A slight bounce from the left cheek followed by a sudden ripple of movement with the right. She had turned her head to the right, almost as if to glance across her shoulder but only with her eyes closed and hands raised up from where he could not see. For another moment, Michael stood there and watched her booty cheeks pop in rhythm.

"You gonna give me my stool back and come sit that ass down on me?"

His words were enough to make her finally open her eyes, leering at him from the corner of her eye. Beyonce bit down on her lower lip, shaking her head.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Coming to a halt with her ass popping action, Bey shook her head. Those long curly blonde strands of her beautiful hair shook slightly down her back. Michael couldn't help but tease her with his demands.

"Well, if you aren't gonna do that then stand up and back that ass up on me."

Her hands pushed down into the plush cushion of the stood and then Beyonce slowly began to rise up. She stomped her feet, forcing that phat ass to shake around from within her booty shorts as she then kept her feet spread out and bent over. The next thing Michael's eyes witness was her hips slowly grinding as she began to twerk. His eyes locked on, watching that phat ass bounce and shake from within the thin fabric of her shorts. Michael expected at any moment now, Bey would shove those shorts down and reveal her beautiful black ass in all of it's magnificence. Instead, she grazed her fingertips across her curves and elevated her arms in the air, keeping them raised up while twerking.

"Come on, back that ass up! Grind it on me, Bey!"

Impatient as ever, Michael knew what he wanted while Beyonce had her way with teasing him. Over and over, she continued to twerk and force those ass cheeks to clap. Even within the black fabric of her booty shorts, he could see those phat cheeks smacking together. Did she have on a thong or nothing at all? A question that was beginning to bug him from within his mind. She pushed her legs closer together and then began to step back. Dropping it low for a bit, Bey shoved her ass up beneath Michael before brushing it up against his crotch and then shoving back. He moaned at the touch of her booty up against him, as this was a feeling Michael had missed so dearly. Beyonce began to grind that ass up against his crotch.

"That's it, ohhhhhh fuck..."

As he moaned and called out to her, Bey showed him no mercy. Right cheek, left cheek. She popped them, one after the other as her twerks had become a series of slow grinds.

"Don't touch."

Beyonce called out to him as she came to a halt from grinding. Up and down she rubbed her ass against his crotch while feeling his bulging cock poke up the crack of her massive ass.

"You can feel, but you can't touch."

If only he could see her perfect white teeth in that grin she was doing at the moment. Bey knew all the right ways to tease Michael as she listened to moan at the will of her ass. When she came to a halt from rubbing it against him, she finally turned around and he wrapped his arms around her. Michael could no longer resist the urge to push his lips to her and kiss the woman he considered to be the black queen in his life. She closed her eyes, dancing her tongue against his and moaning into his mouth. They traded multiple kisses back and forth as Michael soon felt the touch of her fingertips trailing up his shirt. When their kisses broke, Michael gazed back into those dark brown hues and all Bey did was smirk before speaking.

"I'll let you have a seat now."

Stepping back, she pointed her left hand fingers across the large fancy desk he had in the center of the room.

"Go sit in your favorite chair, darling..."

Giggling as she ended her speech, Bey's eyes followed him as he made the foot steps closer to that large black plush leather chair. The arm rests were painted gold with Greek architectural designs for art. Over the years, Michael had treated his sanctum room as a personal library. A desk was in the center of the room while bookshelves covered the north and south walls. If it weren't for collecting books, he could've turned the room into a proper mancave, but then again this wasn't his usual place of residence. Sitting down in the chair, Michael reached down below to grab the small piece to adjust it. He shoved the chair back a bit, but he didn't react fast enough. Beyonce had turned around and plopped her phat booty down into his lap.

"Ohhhhhhhhh, man..."

Moaning out in his low voice, Michael felt such pleasure from where she placed that ass. It didn't matter how many times Bey had given him lap dances in previous years, there was something special about this big black ass. Few things in life came close to having fun with her. With her back completely turned to him, Michael had the sight of her curly locks of hair. They sway slightly as Beyonce began to grind her ass down into his crotch. Michael moaned as he ran his hands over her stomach, caressing her dark skin as he moved his head to breathe down the left side of her neck. All Bey did was continue grinding that ass down into his lap. She could feel his bulging cock poke up the crack, but it wasn't enough to stop her from riding it.

"Jesus fucking Christ.... Feels so good."

"Mmmmmm, watch your mouth honey. No need to take the lord's name in vain like that. Just sit back, shut up and enjoy."

Michael shoved his lips to her neck and began to kiss his way down trying to find her weak spot that he knew was on this side. Closing her eyes, Bey let out a soft moan as she continued to pound her phat ass down in his lap, grinding back and forth. Moaning out to her, Michael wasn't sure how much more he could handle before he wanted to rip her skimpy clothes off and get down and dirty. Bey showed him a bit of mercy, lifting that booty off his lap and then bending over like a stripper as she began to shake it and twerk.

"You love this big ass, don't you? Show me how much you love it and spank it!"

Still twerking her booty back and forth, Bey spoke again.

"Smack that ass!"

Biting down on his lower lip, Michael grinned before rearing his right hand back. He sent a hard swat down across her right cheek. Beyonce made an exaggerated moan as she continued to shake her ass back and forth. Spank! His hand struck across her buttocks once more. After a third spank, Michael couldn't resist the urge to grab at her booty shorts and tug them down. His eyes witnessed what was a solid black thong. Bey quit shaking, pushing her legs together to allow the shorts to fall down to her ankles.

"Oh my god..."

No matter how many times he had seen it, there was always that jaw-dropping gasp that needed to be made at the sight of Beyonce's powerful booty on fully display. Cheeks so thick, the line of her thong was completely sucked down the crack of her ass no where in sight to witness. Once again, Beyonce began to shake her massive ass. Clap. Clap. Clap. Those firm cheeks bounced together, clapping in a steady rhythm as she went to grind those hips and make it twerk. All Michael did was sit there, unable to remove his eyes from this wonderful sight.