An argument I’ve often had with my girlfriends is what color love is. I usually picture it as a combination of fiery red mixed with yellow and black. Powerful emotions, with fiery fights and hot sex mixed in. I’ve gradually decided that if you don’t agree with a prospective partner about this, you’re headed for problems. I tend to pick my girlfriends who see love as a peaceful green like a forest, or a soft blue, like a wonderful day on the Caribbean seas. That’s why I’m not married.

I need to find a girl who sees it the same way I do. I’m not a serene relationship guy. 

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I was at The Horny Dog Bar in town. Not an elegant bar, but one that had a lot of attractive women willing to be friendly. It also had a lot of guys looking for friendly women, not surprisingly. That’s not the name on the front of the building, but it’s what the women that hunt there call it. Most of us men call it The Friendly Bitch. 

I was drinking Red Dog Beer, a local label on tap here, and that might be why it’s The Horn Dog. I’m looking around, seeing what else is on tap. When I see a great-looking gal in a red dress. Wow, that’s my color. I walk over to her table and ask if I can sit there.

“Now I see why this place is called The Horny Dog.” She said, looking at me. She looked down at her drink and ignored me. I sat down across from her. 

“It’s also called The Friendly Bitch; that seems only about half right,” I replied. “You’re wearing my color, red. It looks good on you. That's also the color of love. You’re new here, at least, I don’t remember seeing you here before.“

She, the red-dress lady, looked at me and replied, “Half right? What does that mean?” She continued, ”You haven’t, because it’s the first time I’ve been here.”

“Half right means you’re either friendly or a bitch. Which is it?” I smiled at her, “I’d prefer it if you’re friendly. Would you like another drink?”

I waved at Heidi, the waitress, and ordered another Red Dog and another Margarita for the Red Dress Lady. “Hmm, I’m Phil, Phillip.” I introduced myself. 

“Stacy,” she replied. 

“Okay, Stacy. Are you new in the area or is it just the first time here.?”

I love women in red. I can always make a connection if they’re dressed in red. I still can’t decide if I love women in red because I can connect with them, or if I can connect because I love them. Phil, let's get started.

“Why are you here, at the Horny Dog? Just to get a drink? Find a man to take home or find a man to take you home? I’m here to help you get whatever you want.”

I smiled at her, my very best smile. Matt, my best friend, calls it my panty-dropping smile. It’s not a leer or grin, it’s just a friendly, I’m-a-nice-guy smile. 

I knew why I was here, and I thought I knew why she was here. We were here to get naked: in bed or not, my hands on her tits and my cock in her pussy. It was just a question of how long it would take. Red dress, red hair, she was turning me on. Now my job is to turn her on. If she’s dressed in red, I usually can.

Looking at her, I could see that her pupils were dilated and I could hear her breathing.

“A friend asked me if I’d been to The Horny Dog. She explained that there are always Horn Dogs here. I just came to see how thick the testosterone is here.” She smiled at me as she finished.

Well, now you’re here, what do you think? Am I making a good impression? I said, smiling back at her.

“Phil, Judy was right about the regulars here for sure. Thanks for the second drink.” She was grinning at me. She took a sip of her second drink. “But I’m not going to invite you home with me.”

“Is there any reason you can’t invite me home with you? Um, just asking, I’m not expecting an invite.”

When she answered me, she had a huge grin, "Actually, yes. I don’t invite men to my apartment. Ever. I do accept invitations sometimes.” She paused, setting me up, before continuing. “But not tonight.” She stood after finishing her drink and left.

Well, damn. That didn’t go the way I’d hoped. 

It was two weeks before I saw her again in the Horny Dog, and I decided I’d try again.

“Hi, Stacy. Checking out the testosterone levels again?” I sat down across from her. She had on a red blouse and tan slacks. “Just so you know, my cleaning lady worked today.”

She looked at me and said, “So your toilet is white again? I’m impressed.”

“And clean sheets on my bed, too. You’d look great on them. Especially if you’re naked. I can almost picture you there. Your hair is spilling over the pillows, and your tits are showing; the only problem is your pussy. Your pussy hair, is it trimmed, shaved, or full bush? Not that it matters to me; I always like seeing pussy.”

“What color are your sheets? Some women have standards.” She grinned at me.

“Okay, they’re red, solid red. You haven’t answered me about your pussy, so I can picture it against them. 

She smiled at me and said, “Red? That’s a coincidence; I’m wearing a red bra and red knickers, not to mention my red dress. Show’em to me.”

She finished her drink and stood up.

That was fast. She must have come in looking for me. Well, she caught me.

I got up and led her to my car, opened the door, succumbed to my impulses, and kissed her. It was wonderful, the way she kissed me back. I forced myself to stop long enough to drive to my place. Inside, I started kissing her again, more forcefully. I had her back against the front door and I was unbuttoning her blouse so I could see her red bra. Then I unfastened her skirt and pushed it down to get a look at her red knickers. That inflamed my need to get her naked and start playing with her. I helped her step out of the skirt and led her to my bed with the red sheets. 

I pulled her panties down and saw her pussy hair was trimmed with just a patch above her clitoris. There was enough to prove she was a woman, but not enough to get in my way. I was careful about her dress when I took it off, it helps if you hope for a revisit. 

When I had her naked, spread on my bed, with her hair spilling across her pillow, I had to stop and admire the scene. “You look perfect there, Stacy; um, good enough to eat.“ Which I proceeded to prove, by starting on her pussy. 

“Earlier, you talked about the color of love. And you thought it was red; for me, it's black, ebony black. Your face is between my legs, eating me. Your cock is about to take me, so black and hard, penetrating my white cunt. When you sat next to me the first time, I knew you were going to fuck me. God, the color of love is black.“

I moved so I could insert my cock in her and make her cum on a black man’s cock.

For her, the color of love is black. For me, the color of love is always RED.