Kid Chocolate
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2025 by Mat Twassel
Fiction Sex Story: Molly sticks by her man in all the best ways. Illustrated.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fiction Illustrated .
Molly’s boyfriend, Kid Chocolate, makes her melt. Not just when she watches him fight, but any time. When he’s in the ring she can practically come just from looking at him. Oh, he looks so fine warming up in his red satin shorts, gold scarf she knit for him flipping and flapping as he jabs the air. Already his skin gleams with sweat. Already his eyes are fierce, his nipples tight, his knotted fists mahogany hammers.
Molly wonders what it would be like to watch him fight naked. For a black man, he hasn’t a large penis, but it’s the perfect size for sucking. She can keep him comfortably excited in her mouth for what seems like hours. He’s got incredible strength and stamina, taking her through countless orgasms before flooding her. When he comes, his body goes completely rigid inside and out, and it’s like molten bone and gushing oil well and the big bang that begins or ends the universe.
When the bell sounds, Kid strides to the center. His opponent, Danny Tom Tom, shuffles forward in a wary crouch. Danny hooks his left. Kid sidesteps, leans away and immediately in, delivering a flurry of blows.
Danny Tom Tom goes down. Just like that the fight is over. The referee lifts Kid’s hand to a chorus of jeers and whistles. A mix of boos and a few cheers follow Kid’s quick circuit of the ring. He dons the golden scarf, wraps it around his neck, and ducks under the ropes while Danny Tom Tom gets groggily to his feet. KC smiles at Molly, removes the scarf he’s just put on, and wraps it around Molly’s neck. “Don’t want to get it all sweaty,” he says.
Molly walks KC down the long hall toward the locker room. “You were so good,” she tells him, her hand slipping along his hip, ducking beneath the waistband of his satin shorts. “So good,” she says, her hand exploring his muscular butt. “So good and hard.” His flesh is like warm stone. Her middle finger finds his crevice. He clenches, but the fight, brief though it was, has made him sweaty, and her finger forces its way down, all the way to the dark button. She grins at him, and then she pushes her middle finger into the tight hole. “Oh, Mol,” he says, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard.” “I know,” she answers, watching his satin shorts bow and throb with the reach and punch of his erection. “I want the full fifteen rounds.”
Two goons are blocking the locker room door. KC stops, Molly’s finger still in his bottom. “What’s up, boys?” she says.
“I don’t think we got our money’s worth,” says one of the goons.
“Scram,” KC says.
“I think we’re gonna—” starts the second goon, but Molly has her gun out.
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