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No Boundaries

About The Book

A cross between Shades of Grey and Z-Rated, No Boundaries takes readers on an unforgettable journey as a young law school graduate stumbles into an alternative lifestyle full of naughty pleasures.

Just out of law school, Jaguar is deep in debt and takes a bartending job as an easy way to make money before he gets on the fast-track of corporate law. Meanwhile, slinging drinks does have its perks: free booze, big tips, and plenty of women hitting on him constantly. He’s not looking for love, only a little fun to forget his troubles.

But when he meets a mysterious beauty named Fonia, Jaguar is intrigued. Handsome and confident, Jag has never had problems attracting the opposite sex, but Fonia is elusive and presents a challenge.

An old friend offers Jag an opportunity to make extra cash bartending at a private party. But the party is nothing like Jag has ever experienced. Not even the wildest frat party could compare to this extravaganza where no pleasure is forbidden.

But the biggest shocker comes when Jag realizes that Fonia is heavily into bondage and submission. She belongs to a dominant master and Jag hates to watch her surrender to her deviant lover. Fonia has captured Jag’s heart, and over time he tries to convince her to break away from her brutal lover and understand that true love should never hurt.


No Boundaries JAGUAR
Butt-ass naked and covered with water beads, I came out of the bathroom and froze. The woman in my room covered her mouth and released a sound of shock. Neither of us had expected this encounter. She took a step backward, and I reflexively concealed my privates with both hands.

The cleaning woman gawked at me, and then lowered her eyes. “I knocked. You didn’t put out the Do Not Disturb sign; I thought you had gone for the day!”

“No, I’m still here,” I said dumbly. Momentarily stunned from the surprise of finding an unfamiliar woman in my room, I stood unmoving as I shielded a dick that had become overly active, thumping against my hand as if it wanted to come out and say, “hello.”

“I’ll come back later.” She backed up a little more, yet her eyes remained glued to my face, and then scanned the length of my naked body.

She was basic-looking. Late twenties, medium height, with wide hips and average-sized breasts. A Latino chick with red-tinted hair that was pulled back in a small bun. On a scale of one to ten, she was a five. Despite her plain face and unremarkable figure, my dick jerked spastically beneath my hands. I think it was the uniform that had me going; the maid’s uniform was a turn-on.

Noticing the movement below, her eyes shot down to my crotch.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated with a Spanish accent. The accent was sexy, and had a hypnotic quality, influencing my dick the way a snake charmer’s melody draws a serpent out of hiding. I felt the head of my serpent pressing against my palm and then peeking through the space between my fingers.

“Oh,” she murmured. And my dick took that single utterance as permission to stand fully erect, shoving so forcefully, it pushed my hands aside. At that point, my mind grew hazy, and the primitive part of my nature took over. I was instantly motivated by my animalistic side. Like a dog in heat, I was aware of nothing except my sexual urges. The business appointment that had been lined up for me no longer seemed important. All that mattered was pacifying my throbbing phallus—appeasing its desire to plunge inside something warm and wet.

But despite being mentally incapacitated, I wasn’t so far gone that I’d overpower the maid...or any other woman for that matter. I’d never forcibly take what I wanted; I’m not a rapist. I understand a firm “no,” and hearing that word would immediately bring me back to my senses.

And so, wondering if the maid and I were in mutual agreement, my questioning eyes locked on to hers. She didn’t say a word, and I took the excited glimmer in her eyes as consent.

Propelled by lust, I took steps toward her. I glanced at my image in the mirror and saw what the maid saw: a tall, milk chocolate brother with a body that was well-toned from years of playing basketball. I didn’t own any workout equipment, and during law school, my demanding schedule prevented me from working out at the gym, but I’d always made time for recreational basketball. Even if it was only two or three times a month, I found time to get my hands on a basketball. I’d been shooting hoops for as long as I could remember. Where I come from, dudes start practicing their dunk shots as soon as they can hold a basketball.

The maid began to undo the first few buttons of her uniform. It was on the tip of my tongue to say, “Leave the uniform on,” but her fingers were working so quickly, I couldn’t stop her. Maybe I’m a little twisted, but to me, there’s something extremely erotic about a woman wearing a uniform—any kind of uniform. A policewoman, waitress, postal worker, flight attendant, even an aggravating meter maid could make my dick get hard.

The grayish-blue housekeeping uniform dropped to the floor, and I noticed the nametag pinned to the front. Rayna. Stripped down to bra and panties, I was pleasantly surprised when Rayna unsnapped her bra, exposing pert breasts with dark, rose-colored nipples. Rayna’s nipples were distended, jutting out like tiny corkscrews, and seemed to scream, “Suck me!”

I advanced toward Rayna with my lips parted. She pulled down her panties and kicked them off, showing off a forest of curly, pubic hair. Female genitalia could be waxed clean or hairy as a jungle; it didn’t matter to me. All that mattered was the way it felt inside. With no time for foreplay, I practically dove on top of her, lifting up her right leg as I fitted the head of my dick into her moist opening.

“Oh, papi,” she whimpered, gyrating and taking in several inches of dick-length. Her pussy was good and gushy, and I moaned with pleasure as I sank into a swamp of warm honey. I slow stroked for a few moments, and then kicked it into high gear. I was ready to start plunging in and out like a ferocious madman, but forced myself to slow down and savor the experience.

My lips sought out those erect, suckable nipples, and I made all kinds of heathen-like grunting sounds as I sucked her titties and fucked her pussy at the same time. Rayna may have only been a five in the looks department, but her pussy was off the scale. It was sloppy wet like it was crying, and her inner walls clutched and grabbed possessively; it felt like her pussy was throwing a tantrum. Her walls were like a velvet vise around my dick—a vise that kept getting tighter and tighter.

“Damn, baby. This shit is...” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. Could only breathe like a dragon and groan like a tortured beast.

“Go deeper, papi,” Rayna moaned, throwing up her other leg. I knew what she wanted. When a chick says go deeper, she doesn’t necessarily want you to knock her uterus out of place, she wants you to find that elusive patch of pleasure known as the G-spot. She wants you to go deeper so she can bust a prolonged and powerful nut. Finding that hidden pleasure place can be a daunting task, especially when you don’t know the woman’s body, or when you’re pressed for time. From my experiences, I’d discovered that if I turn a chick over on her stomach, and take her from behind, I stand a good chance of locating the pleasure zone.

So I repositioned Rayna, and slipped my dick between her voluptuous thighs, which were tightly pressed together. Anchoring myself, I cupped her breasts, squeezing them as I slid in and out of her syrupy juices. Her pussy felt so good, I had to play all kinds of mind games with myself to keep from nutting too soon.

With each down stroke, I allowed the head of my dick to caress her clit before reentering her pussy. Rayna lay beneath me with her face pressed into the pillow, emitting sounds that were a cross between singing and screaming. I’m not a selfish lover, I enjoy pleasing women. Even at a time like this when it would behoove me to bust quickly and get my ass to my appointment on time, I refused to rush. I took the time to make sure she got hers.

I kissed the back of her neck. Nibbled on her ear. “Rayna, baby. You feel so good,” I whispered, meaning every word as I maintained steady strokes.

Her moans escalated in volume and her creamy pussy seemed to vibrate, pop, and spit. She was cumming, but I didn’t take that as my cue to climax; I kept stroking, increasing the tempo as I intensified her pleasure. I didn’t shoot off my load until Rayna had uttered a final whimper.

I’m street-wise, book smart, and I also have a sensitive side. Added to my list of attributes, is the fact that I’m well-endowed and good in bed. My heightened sensitivity and enhanced bedroom skills often give chicks the wrong message, prompting them to become attached to me.

As I eased out of Rayna’s hairy pussy, I could only hope she’d take this spur-of-the-moment sex session for what it was. Nothing but two people fulfilling their lustful desires.

She turned over on her back and smiled up at me. I gently wiped perspiration from her forehead and lightly caressed her hair. “That was amazing,” I said with one eye on the clock.

“Yes, it was,” she agreed, lifting her mouth to mine.

I didn’t have time for kissing and cuddling, and so I gave her a quick kiss, and rolled off of her.

She clutched my arm. “Wanna go again?”

“Sorry, I’m already late for an appointment. Maybe some other time.”

“When? I could come back later tonight.”

“Um, I don’t know,” I said, feeling pressured and put on the spot. “Let’s play it by ear and get together the next time we’re both in the mood,” I said as gently as I could.

“I’m in the mood now,” she said determinedly.

The chick was persistent. She had me squirming for a moment, but then I became irritated. “Yo, we both got what we wanted, so grab your clothes, get dressed, and bounce. You can come back and clean up in here later,” I said harshly. I didn’t want to go in on her like that, but if I hadn’t, she would have kept pestering me.

My sensitive side gets overpowered by a mean streak that emerges when someone tries to back me in a corner and force my will. I had business to take care of and I couldn’t allow this random, housekeeping chick to guilt-trip me into setting up a future rendezvous.

Rolling her eyes and mumbling in Spanish, Rayna gave me a seething look as she picked up her clothes from the floor. After dressing, she fussed with her hair, and then slammed the door on her way out.

I washed my dick off, dressed and left my hotel room. On the way to the elevator, I bumped into Rayna, who was pushing her cleaning cart down the corridor. Having to walk past her was awkward. “See you later,” I said, not knowing what else to say under the circumstances.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon,” she replied, wearing a hopeful smile, which I chose to ignore.

I grabbed a cab outside the hotel and headed to University City to meet up with my man, Sharif, to get the details on a bartending job.

About The Author

Photo Credit: Karen Dempsey Hammond

Allison Hobbs is a national bestselling author of more than thirty novels and has been featured in such periodicals as Romantic Times and The Philadelphia Inquirer. She lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Product Details

  • Publisher: Strebor Books (July 2, 2013)
  • Length: 304 pages
  • ISBN13: 9781593094188

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