She finds her self staring into the jaded green eyes of her nameless lover. She gasps and leans against him, her arms trapped gently between his chest...and her. ‘A dress like that I could never afford,’ she whispers against him. ‘Let’s go try it on,’ he coaxed her, gently leading her inside and motioning to the sales lady to follow them with the dress in hand. The sales lady smiled as she led the two to the dressing rooms and unlocked the one at the very end. ‘Anything for you, sir,’ she said. Samantha was something else, folks. A six-foot-tall, busty and big-bottomed, caramel-skinned black chick with the prettiest face and finest ass I’ve seen in ages. She was all that and then some. The first time I laid eyes on her, I knew I had to have her to myself. Unfortunately for me, Samantha Villeneuve fell into that category of women who are simply unapproachable even for the smoothest of players. She was the Captain of the Women’s Rugby team. The Women’s Rugby team was the elite of. More

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