Preston's Romance Ch. 01

Preston walked the two blocks from the subway terminal at a brisk pace. Despite rushing, as he headed toward Martin Enterprises, his steel-grey eyes scanned the sidewalk; inadvertently searching...Preston's father, Truman Martin, always sternly suggested Pres use their driver to commute from the estate to the family company. However, taking the subway made Pres feel more connected and down-to-Earth. Actually, if it were up to Preston, he would be living in a loft in the South Loop area instead of the south wing of the Martin family's manor.

Having lived in his own Gold Coast condo six years ago, Preston was not a stranger to independence—at not least simulated "independence" at any rate...That was when the trouble started. Pres lived carefree using his family trust as a means of support. An acquaintance at one of the weekend parties Preston threw introduced him to a variety of "recreational" drugs. The next thing Pres knew; he was being rolled into the ER—followed by a stint in a treatment facility. After his release from the clinic, Preston's father insisted that Pres move back into the primary family home. That is as long as Preston wanted to retain access to his trust. Pres had always had a bit of a wild streak. Living back at home would allow Truman to keep a close watch on his son.

Not wanting to be an embarrassment to the family name—or tabloid fodder, Pres agreed. After all, Pres was the namesake of his beloved grandfather, the founder of Martin Enterprises.

Now 32 years old, Preston was a model son—aside from the occasional office assistant fuck. But he needed to release built-up tension once in a blue moon. Who could fault him for that? Still Truman's demands persisted, directing the company and Preston's life.

Making his way across the lobby, Pres selected the "Up" button on the elevator. Michael McLaughlin walked up to wait for the elevator beside Preston.

"Hey Mike, how is it going?"

"Great!" Michael had a cheesy grin plastered on his handsome face. The bags under Mike's eyes were pronounced. Preston figured his friend had probably spent the majority of last night making love to his gorgeous, new fiancée, Nicollette. And hell, who could fault him for that? Nicci was amazing!

Instantly, Pres's mind transported back to an afternoon a couple of months ago. Preston had happened upon a steamy scene between Mike and Nicci that took place in Mike's office. Pres's cock slightly hardened at the remembrance of seeing his virile friend bend the ebony beauty across his desk, and pound her wet cunt, hard and deep from behind.

In fact, the scene was so ingrained in Pres's mind that he had tried to reenact it with a whore he had hired. While the sexual experience had been satisfying, Pres knew that he needed to find a more long-term solution to his problem. Besides, he wasn't the type to pay for sex. He left that behavior up to the Charlie Sheens of the world.

Preston's problem was: Ever since he had seen his best friend passionately fuck a black woman on his desk, he couldn't seem to get black women out of his head.

Of course not every single one, but he was starting to find a good majority of the black women he came across in everyday life, vibrant and attractive. Intriguing even...He didn't want to be rude or offensive, so often he just went about his daily business. However, he did find himself smiling a bit longer at the local barista when she gave him his morning coffee. When he asked how she was doing, he really cared about the answer.

Previously, his mind had sort overlooked/filtered out black women. Now, they were on his radar more than ever. Preston was beginning to believe he was obsessed. Sure, he had looked at tons of porn starring hot, ebony women, but he had seen them merely as sex objects; as a means to an end. He was currently not just interested in the sexual aspects, but with possibly getting to know one of them as a person. Perhaps, he even wanted to start a relationship.

This secret longing was starting to make Preston envious of Michael. The fact that Pres's friend was about to openly profess his love for a woman of color—and make a lifelong commitment— planted a tiny seed of jealousy. Particularly, because Preston knew his family would never be accepting of him doing something similar. Despite that, Pres was still genuinely glad Mike had finally found someone to make him as happy as Nicci did.

The two men made their way to the 27th floor.

***

After lunch, Pres decided to stop at the local coffee shop, Sabrina's, to grab a latte and a donut. Preston needed an afternoon dose of caffeine and sugar rush to make it through the afternoon of meetings. Honestly, it was a wonder he didn't have cavities. In addition to the snack, Pres was looking forward to seeing the barista, Natalie.

Natalie was a lighter-skinned black woman, about 5'6" tall. She was curvy, but not overweight. Her bust line filled out the company t-shirt quite well. Pres would guess her to be a natural D cup. Most of all, Preston drooled thinking about Natalie's womanly hips and ass. He occasionally imagined those solid, shapely hips thrusting forward to hungrily take his hard, white cock. In his mind, Pres saw Natalie's pink tongue licking her lips, her pretty, café au lait face contorted in pleasure.

"Mmm..." Pres masked his lustful thoughts by taking another sip of latte, while his eyes bore holes in the pretty barista's direction.