I Always Wanted To Do That
As long as I can remember I had always been attracted to white men. I guess that comes from growing up in the burbs, and fear of developing some sort of Oedipal complex. Throughout my adolescence all my crushes have been on white guys, most of whom were the ones to actually have the balls to talk to me like I was one of the other girls and admit the fact they thought I was cute, no matter what their friends said. There’s something to be said about a white dude who can appreciate what a sista can offer.
My vanity came to me my senior year of high school. No, I’m not talking conceited, but when I realized that I could walk into any room, filled with anyone, and own it. I often wondered what my auntie was talking about when I was 13 years old and told me I was going to be such a heartbreaker. Today I know. Ten years after I discovered it I still am, gorgeous. The face of an angel and a body built for sin. Five feet seven inches tall, one hundred fifteen pounds, cafe au lait complexion, long dark brown wavy hair, soft brown eyes, 32c breasts, and an ass I am very proud of. I still get a rush from turning the heads of white men.
When I looked in my mailbox one morning and saw the unmistakable logo of my prestigious private New England high school printed on the corner of one of the envelopes amongst the junk mail and bills, I knew it could be one of two things. Yet another plea for a donation to the alumni fund or…. could it have been ten years already? An invitation to my 10-year reunion. I opened it up, and there it was, in gold embossed lettering. My first thought was to just write out a check and a note with my regrets that I would not be traveling 3,000 miles to attend a function to see how a bunch of rich snot nosed brats I could care less about turned out. I had done so much to separate myself from that insular world, and I had no intention of ever looking back. But the name of the alumni rep at the bottom of the insert stopped me from doing so.
My panties still get a little wet when I think about him.
I booted up my notebook, booked a flight and rsvp’d my invite. I was going to go back there, after 10 years of never writing an update of my life for the alumni newsletter when I sent my yearly donation, and hearing various trickle down rumors about what became of me from my sister who married and stayed local. Only the specter of one person could make me give a second thought to attending a reunion. Jeffrey Wells. It was his name on the bottom of that insert.
I remember vividly the day I caught him looking for the first time.
I was what some would call a late bloomer, most of which came my senior year. I was a growing girl then. Since I was the only black girl in my class, I was virtually non-existent on the radar of the boys of my school. Any dates that I did get were from the few black boys who went to the public schools in surrounding areas, but they were hard to come by since they were in high demand by all the white girls. There was a time at the beginning of spring that year when I had a serious problem, which garnered me my only detention of my whole school career. My uniforms didn’t fit as they did at the beginning of the year. I was a victim of the incredible shrinking plaid skirt. I tried in vain to camouflage the situation by keeping my knees socks pulled up all the time, but when it came time to sit down for class, whomever was sitting in the row beside me was given a show of coffee and cream colored thigh, which I must say were beginning to fill out nicely after 13 years of dance lessons.
One day I was feeling particularly self-conscious because my new booty had grown so as when I sat down in class I felt the chill of the ceramic seat when I crossed my legs under the desk. Jeffrey had been sitting in the row next to me that day. I was sort of drifting during the history lecture that day when my peripheral vision picked up something. Jeffrey was staring very intently at my bare thighs under the desk from the next row. I tried to pretend that I was paying attention to the lecture, but my body went warm with the thought of him spending the class time immersing himself in the view of my thighs. Me. The non-entity. The black girl? Huh?
I didn’t think Jeff saw me that way. I mean he was very cordial to me and we talked casually because our lockers were near each other, but only about silly and safe topics like who was on Letterman the night before. Jeff was a very quiet and very bright musical genius. He had been playing the violin since he was 3, from which he had developed a distinctive callous on his jaw. Nothing hideous, but a very interesting feature to his handsome face. He wasn’t immensely popular but just an average student. His distinctive quality was the violin but he would only tell you if you asked what was in the case. After that day I though of Jeff much differently.
Over the next few days, I began to notice that Jeff sat next to me more often in history class. Rather than being aware of the activities of the Hapsburgs in Austria, I was aware of Jeff’s watching me. It excited me, even so I would cross my legs higher up so that the skirt would give way to show a bit of my new ass, but also to squeeze my thighs together against my throbbing pussy. He always left class after me, I suspect to see the warm vaporous ghost of my moist pussy disappear from the ceramic of the chair I had sat in. Neither of us said anything about history class to each other the rest of the year, but I’m sure we both knew what was going on.
After grad, our school has a tradition of hosting the graduates to a late night celebration at a posh restaurant/reception hall w/ DJ etc. Sort of like a last blast before we fade in to the deep recesses of each other’s subconscious. I decide I was going to look hot, and show off my new bod for my last impression.
I wore my wavy hair loose as opposed to the tightly pulled ponytail I usually sported. I bared my shoulders and showed off my tit in a cobalt blue halter suit with a very short skirt and heeled sandals to flatter my beautiful ass and dancers legs. This would be the first and last time my classmates would see me without the usual uniform of loafers, knee socks, plaid skirt, polo, and cardigan. I am vain so I can say that I was smokin’. I achieved exactly what I had set out to do. Turn the white boys’ heads, but there was one in particular whose attention I really wanted to get.
Jeff and I didn’t talk that much at the party. I mostly associated with students I was friendly with, but I did notice during our awards ceremony that he was sitting at a table directly across the room from mine enjoying the view. The party wound down at about 5am and we all said our goodbyes in the parking lot with yearbooks filled with a bunch of insincere crap from our fellow classmates. I was heading toward my car when I heard my name being called. It was Jeff. He pulled me aside and said “I wanted to say goodbye, and I have something for you.” He had a small box in his hand. I looked at him and I could only manage, “Um, you didn’t sign my yearbook yet.” and handed it to him. I felt a bit strange and those warm feeling were flooding up inside me again. I opened the box and inside was a small silver bracelet with a stone in the center that matched my outfit. He finished signing my yearbook, laid it on the roof of my car, and took the bracelet out of the box and put it on my wrist. I never expected it but he kissed me full on the mouth. I felt his warm lips press against mine, his soft and gentle tongue found its way to caress my own. He broke the kiss, smiled, and said goodbye and left. That was it. I took the yearbook from the roof of my car and looked at it. And the words,
*I always wanted to do that*
Were written by his picture. I looked up, and two popular girls from my class were standing by a car with confused looks on their faces. I shrugged at them and got into my car and went home.
The whole plane ride to Logan, I replayed that moment while I conceded defeat in the battle of the armrest.
I checked into the Sheraton by the sea, and went to bed early, because I had set goals for this reunion.
1. Turn some heads
2. Fuck Jeff retarded.
Being the tricky bitch that I am, I would do this and I didn’t give a damn if he was married, attached or otherwise.
I drove up to the country club where the reunion was being held, dressed in pajamas. Yes, I said pajamas. Worn as a pantsuit, because I can pull it off. They were a satiny off-white silk with rounded lapels that created a J-Lo esque plunging neckline when tied off at the waist with a satin cord. On my tiny pedicure feet I wore a pair of off-white strappy sandals. The ensemble made a wonderful contrast to my skin, and my hair, which I wore, loose and cascading down my shoulders. I wore no bra, because my pert breasts continue to defy gravity. I must say that my years in So Cal have softened me up, because although it was summer, it was New England summer. A stark contrast to the climate of LA. My nipples pushed upward against the silky material leaving a very sensuous effect. I dressed to launch a thousand hard ons. I parked and re-applied my trademark extra dark berry lipstick and set out to stake my claim on this joint.
I walked in true to my style. Stag by choice, and sure as hell if everyone didn’t notice me immediately. I didn’t bother with nametags because I’m sure they could remember who I was. I was first approached en mass by, the jocks who wouldn’t give me the time much less think I could be attractive back in the day. Some were married with children, probably products of shotgun weddings shortly after college. I did do my best to be congenial while being ogled at an angle while they attempted to catch a profile view of my tits through the neckline of my top. I was asked to pose for pictures with them, and one smarmy dude who I remember to be a vile character whispered in my ear as the shutters snapped, “How the hell did you get so fuckin’ hot?” as he copped a feel of my non underwear having ass through the satiny pants. To which I replied, “Sugar, you will never be ready for this.” with a smile and a look of triumph over him and his ilk. Some girls came over to chat me up after witnessing all the attention I was getting from all the guys they used to go out with. Let me tell you, time and squeezing out children has not been kind to them. Perhaps its just karmic payback that black women age better than their white counterparts.
I looked around for Jeff, but couldn’t find him anywhere. It was still early.
I had a few drinks and happened to be talking to one of the popular girls who had seen what happed in the parking lot on grad night, when she interrupted me and said, “I think someone wants you over there” with a smirk. I turned around and there he was. Jeff was dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and blue tie. He developed distinguished laugh lines on his handsome face, and still had the callous on his jaw. Time had done him well. A smile spread across his face as I turned to meet his gaze that was fixed on me. I excused myself and strode across the room to meet him near the entrance. “You look beautiful,” he said, as he gave a not too subtle up and down. “Thanks, right back at cha!” I felt the eyes of the room all over us as we exchanged condensed updates of our lives.
Bonus!!! He’s not married!!!
I found out he was living in Connecticut and teaching music at an arts school. I told him of my vow never to come to one of these farces, but I convinced myself I should at least make an appearance and set some of those nasty rumors to bed. “Like what” he said.
“Like, the one about me being a porn star.”
“Ah, didn’t hear that one”
“So, uh what convinced you to become the alumni rep for this thing?”
“You”
My heart started to beat fast and I became a bit flushed. I felt like we were on display, and I think he had the same feeling too. We broke away from each other, he to mingle with other classmates, and me to get groped by the rest of the guys who grew the balls to come within 3 ft of me.
Later on, Jeff pulled me away from the newly separated Homecoming queen and said low in my ear,
“Do you, want to get out of here?”
“I couldn’t think of a better idea, where are you staying?”
“Sheraton by the sea”
“Me too. Let’s hit the bar over there. I can’t stand to hang about the vultures anymore.”
He slipped his arm around my waist, and to the collective gasp of the room, we left together, before the dumb prizes were handed out.
I’m sure our ears should have been burning that night.
I concluded that I was going to achieve both of my goals for the night, when we got back to the hotel. We still never said a word about grad night, as we sat at the hotel bar. After the first round in the hotel, I could say that I was a bit inebriated, coupled with the drinks I had at the reunion. I became a little less inhibited, if that is possible. I finally had to break the ice.
“So um, why me? Back then, I mean.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah well I had somewhat of an unrequited crush on you”
“Did this have anything to do with history class?”
“Yeah that too, but.”
“But what?” I started to giggle
“I never had the guts to act on it. I was chickenshit and I know it. Sorry”
“What are you sorry for? I’m not sorry.”
“I just didn’t know what everyone would say”
“Why would you care?”
“I know, sorry”
“What do you keep apologizing for?”
And then he shut me up, by bringing his hands up to me, pulling my face toward him and passionately kissing me there at the bar. This time I kissed him back reciprocating his intensity.
“For not doing that 10 years ago,” he said when he broke the kiss.
“Come on let’s go,” He said coming off the barstool and leading me away.
We came back to his room, and he began again where we’d left off. He pulled me close to him, and as we kissed I felt his tongue searching to connect with mine. Holding my lips with his, not wanting to let go. Needing to breathe, I stopped and pulled his jacket off and put it on the adjacent chair in the room, and he loosened his tie, and slid it off, pulled me in close again and kissed my forehead. I looked up into his green eyes and studied his face, and saw his violin callous. I reached up to touch it. I thought it was beautiful. I expected it to be rough, but in fact it was smooth and soft like it had been polished. I kissed it and moved along to his neck, cradled my head in it as if I were his violin as he held me close.
He stepped back to look at me once more and smiled. He pulled open the satin cord, and my top hung loose. He brought his hands up along the sides of my torso inside the pajama top, held both of my breasts in his hands let out a breath and said.
“You are the most exquisite creature I have ever seen”
He pushed my top off of my shoulders and pulled it away from me, and stopped to look again. I watched as his eyes danced over me. I reached out and began unbuttoning his shirt, as he leaned in again to kiss me. His lips moved over to my shoulder, and worked their way across my collar, and settled back on my opposite shoulder. My hardened nipples grazed against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, as I pulled his shirt back from his body, and let it fall to the floor to join my pajama top. Our lips met again as we made our way farther into the room, carefully stepping over our discarded clothes. His hands brought Goosebumps to my dulce de leche skin, and made my insides burn for him. I led him to the king size bed of his hotel room, and tugged at the tail of his t-shirt to free it from his trousers, and lifted it over his head. He had a very nice chest, broader than I expected. It made me want to press myself against it. He moved his hand from my waist and slid it down to hold my satin ass. He was mesmerized by the feel of the satin and the firm give of my ass, he moved his other hand to feel the soft contour for itself.
” I can’t tell you how many times I dreamt about how your body felt. What it would be like to touch you, and this…” he gave my ass a gentle squeeze with both of his hands as he pulled me closer and I felt his hard on against my hip.
“Is so fucking amazing!”
“Would you like more?” I said looking up at his face, “’cause you’re not dreaming now. I’m here with you.”
He took in a breath and nodded. I took one of his hands and guided it to the drawstring on my pajama bottoms. He took it and pulled the knot loose. The pants slid to the floor, and I stepped out of them, and walked away wearing only my high strappy sandals, letting his eyes drink in the sight of my perfect body. I turned to face him and extended a finger in a “come here” fashion with a devilish smile on my lips. He complied, as I sat at the foot of the bed. He stood before me, and I realized he had a monster in his trousers, straining against them. The only thing to do would be to let it out. I busied my hands to unbuckle his belt, and unzip his fly. He stroked the back of my neck, and gently tugged at my hair. I reached inside, touched his balls and brought my fingers up to grip his rigid shaft.
Nice!
He brought his head back and exhaled as I freed his dick from the confines of his shorts and let his trousers fall around his ankles. I looked up at him, smiled and wet my lips.
“You’ve waited a long time for this haven’t you?” I said holding his hardened tool gently in my hand.
“Too long”
“I’ll be sure to live up to the fantasy then” I said with a wink.
My small tongue, emerged from my dark berry lips to taste the head of his dick, and my lips followed to share the experience enveloping the hot knob. He exhaled again, closed his eyes and tilted his head to one side as if he were playing his violin with calmed passion. I lifted my eyelids and took in his expression as I withdrew from my first taste. I lowered them again and opened my warm mouth and slid my lips down his shaft. I raked my teeth gently against his skin on the outstroke, and worked my tongue on the way back in. He inhaled sharply, and slowly let out his breath. He had a firmer grip on the roots of my hair, as I began to suck him off with expertise. I slid his shorts off with my free hand and let them fall around his ankles with his trousers on the floor.
He pulled away from me, stopped, kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his clothes on the floor. He knelt down on the floor in front of me and laid me down on my back, with my feet still on the floor.
“I want this to last. I’ve got 10 years to make up for.” He said as he took one of my feet, removed the sandal, kissed my instep, and did the same with the other. I looked at him at the end of the bed and smiled in understanding, as he removed his socks. He put his hands on my knees and brought them apart, and studied my bare waxed pussy for a time, whilst stroking the inside of my thighs, feeling their softness, and breathing in my scent.
“Exquisite.” He said and paused again.
“I imagined for so long, what you looked like, and I can’t believe how beautiful you are” with that he moved closer.
“This, this is beautiful” he said before he began to kiss my caramel pussy lips.
His tongue moved along my already moist slit, and electricity moved through my body. I felt his smooth violin callous against my thigh when he tasted my flowing honey moving his head from place to place so he would not miss a spot. I put my legs over his shoulders to pull him closer to me, and buried my hands in his thick dark locks. I was going to come really quick, I knew it. My breath grew short and my vocalizations became louder, when he focused on my bud. My knees started to twitch, my face contorted and the first waves of my orgasm were upon me.
“Jeffrey…You’re gonna…Oh God!” I locked up, shuddered and my first orgasm bitchslapped me one.
I never had a hard time having an orgasm.
And, Mom was right; the dildo did assume close to body temperature the more I sucked on it, but, even though they could be jostled around in their New-Skin sac, the realistic balls my bottom lip eventually rested against were a little too hard to be the real things.
I proceeded to give my mother a white-hoe blowjob. I suppose closing my eyes and imagining that I was once again sucking off Daddy helped inspire me to give it my best effort. I had read about kinkiness and now I was experiencing real kinkiness for myself; sucking on a strapon that jutted out from my own mother’s pelvis. And, I was really getting into it when my mother pushed me away and barked, “Turn around, you black cock sucking little whore, and spread ‘em wide.”
In my mother’s higher-pitched, feminine voice, it didn’t quite come out as a command I needed to obey—not like Daddy’s booming command, but I spun around and spread my knees wide apart just the same. “Give it to me,” I pleaded. “Give me that big black cock of yours… all of it.”
Mom was quickly behind me and, with no preamble at all, her big black dildo was storming up inside me. “Yeeeeessssssssss! Just like that!” “Pound it into me.” I rammed my ass back at Mom. “Harder! I want my little white cunt savaged by that great, big black cock… until… until I can’t take it anymore.”
Mom took me at my word and let me have it; fucking me with her dildo harder and with far more skill than any guy had ever thrown it to me, at least as hard as I knew Daddy would eventually lay the hard black wood to his begging, pleading, whimpering stepdaughter.
Suddenly, my cunt muscles clamped down around the dildo and my eyes went wide in disbelief. “Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Ohhhhh, shiiiit!” I actually felt the watery cunt cream shoot out of me around the dildo. “Impossible!” I blubbered. The sheet was balled up in both of my fists and I buried my face in the mattress as a second, even more powerful gushing of scalding hot cunt cream spewed out from between the dildo and my highly sensitive pussy flesh. “Fucking… Im…poss…ible!”
I couldn’t help it; I pitched forward, out of breath, my spasming cunt completely out of control. For all intents and purposes, I was pretty much out of it entirely… all over.
* * *
When I finally came to, the room was dark and I didn’t have to feel around to know that I was alone atop the bed. Someone—Mom, maybe Daddy—had covered me with a sheet and thoughtfully placed a pillow beneath my head. But, the scent of their presence was still in the bed… still permeated the air around me; the scent of their coupling now mingled with my own spending.
What the hell had happened? I had never passed out from being fucked. Of course, I had never before been fucked the way Mom had fucked me. If Mom and her strapon were merely pretenders to the blackcock throne, Daddy, with his very real black cock, just might kill me. I rolled over and smiled. I was willing to chance it.
I got up and turned on one of the bedside lamps. The bed was in total disarray, but the rest of the room was picked up and orderly. My clothes lay neatly folded on a chair beside the dresser. I shook my head; in my absence, she had become a black cock addicted white hoe, but Mom was still my Mom.
With nothing else to put on—my bags were still out in the living room where I had dropped them—I stepped into my skirt and buttoned up my blouse… all except for the top button, which was now missing. Apparently, in my heated rush to get naked with Mom and Victor, it had popped off. Not bothering with my sandals, I set off barefooted in search of my reconstituted family.
I found them in the kitchen, Mom in a damned near transparent, smokey-black nightgown—that I had never seen her in before—and Victor in nothing but a pair of pinstriped boxer shorts, eating a breakfasty sort of dinner. It took me a moment or two, but I finally figured out what looked so different about my stepfather—besides sitting damn near naked at the dinner table. The Elvis hairdo was gone, replaced by short-cropped mat of black nap. I was so glad it turned out to be a wig; because the whole picture he had presented earlier was just too damned comical to be taken seriously.
Mom noticed me standing in the kitchen doorway. “So nice of you to finally rejoin us, Jenny,” she chuckled and got up to fix me a plate.
Victor looked up from his plate of bacon and eggs and winked. “You really ought to leave that top button undone all the time, Jenny,” he commented. “The way that open-throat look shows off the tops of your unfettered breasts is very becoming, especially on someone as pretty as you.”
I felt myself blush. “You mean it’s sexy.”
Victor winked again. “That, too.”
“It’s somewhere in the bedroom,” I said, fingering the broken thread that had once held the button in place. “In my hurry to get uh… undressed, it…”
“In your hurry to get naked and get in on the black sexing would be a more accurate way of putting it,” Mom laughed as she turned from the stove. “Don’t worry, we’ll find it in the morning and I’ll get it sewn back on for you.” She slid a heaping plate in front of me. “Now, eat up; the night’s still young and there’s a lot more we’d like to teach you about being black sexed.” Her brow furrowed. “Providing you still want to find out, that is?”
“Oh, I still want to, Mom… all I can learn, all the two of you can teach me.” And in the worst way ever. I scooped up a forkful of scrambled eggs, then set the fork back in my plate. “And you can forget all about that silly missing button.” Impulsively, I ripped open the blouse, the five remaining buttons flying off in five different directions. I took the now useless blouse off and tossed it in the direction of the waste can. “In the morning I’m going to go buy a really sexy one… see-thru, just like your naughty nightie. That way Daddy will be able to see my hard pink nipples every time he looks my way.”
Victor rocked back in his chair and laughed. “I told you we had a winner for a daughter, Emmy.”
“I always knew that, Baby,” Mom replied in all seriousness. “But I never imagined she would want to follow in the footsteps of an addicted blackcock-hoe mother.”
“Oh, I’d say I’ve already done a bit more than just follow in your footsteps, Mom.” I licked my lips—a brazen show that I could still taste her pussy in my mouth. “But, you lead and I’ll follow along like a good little girl.” I smiled wantonly, at both of them. “Until I get a real good hang of how things are supposed to be done, that is.”
I shoveled the forkful of eggs into my mouth and winked. “Well, quit your damned dawdlin’, you two; there’s a long night ahead… for all three of us.”
It was really a very pleasant meal. I liked the idea of having breakfast for dinner. It was a novel change from my mother’s customary way of doing things in the correct order. I wondered what we would have when the sun came up; Mom’s award-winning meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy?
And eating at the table topless. This was unheard of, or always had been before. One simply did not sit down to the table even partially au-natural’ around Mom’s house. Maybe not ten months ago, but it was obviously A-okay now. If Mom was going to be this free thinking about a little nudity, I might even consider taking my meals bare-ass naked. Victor… Daddy would probably like that… a lot.
What I especially enjoyed was the conversation that flowed back and forth and around the table. And flowed a helluva lot easier than I, or anyone else, would have expected… given the circumstances. The educated tongue I thought I had detected in Victor’s mouth proved to be dead on the mark. Views and opinions on several topics got tossed around, the vast majority dealing with current and world events, and more than just a high school education was evident in the opinions he set forth and in the way he put them; at least some, if not four full of years of college. And not at some rinky-dink junior college; at a real institution of higher learning.
And Mom’s conversation was not what I remembered, either. There was still the same distinguishable Midwestern twang in her voice and the ‘g’ still got lopped off some ing-ending words, but some serious studying had taken place since I had been gone. She would have to done more than just a little study to keep up with her new husband’s well educated mouth.
Victor had been, and was, a good influence on Mom.. in more ways than the obvious; the perfect replacement for despicable, deadbeat dad. While Mom cleared the dishes away, I quietly thanked Victor.
“For what, Jenny?” he asked. “For what happened in the bedroom?”
“No, for what you’ve done for Mom. She’s a whole new person now.” Mom was still Mom, but inside of that motherly exterior a totally different woman was blossoming. She had broken out of her dreary cocoon and was now a blooming butterfly, radiant in vibrant color… and full of life.
Victor shook his head. “I didn’t do anything for your mother that wasn’t already there, locked up inside, just waiting for someone to come along and set her free.”
“Not just someone, Victor; the right someone.”
“Why don’t you two go find something on the TV while I’m doing the dishes,” Mom offered. When I, and to my astonishment, Victor protested, she shooed us both out, admonishing, “I won’t have either of you helping out, not on Jenny first day back home.”
“You help with the dishes?” I asked as Victor and I went into the living room.
“Fair is fair,” he answered on his way to the big screen TV—which hadn’t been there ten months ago. “Emmy cooks, I wash, dry and put away. If I cook, then she cleans up.”
“You also cook?”
“Not anywhere near as good as your mother’s fine cooking, but it’s edible.” He scowled at the TV. “You really want to watch something, Jenny?”
“No, I would rather just sit and talk.” I sat down on a hassock in front of a big easy chair, which also hadn’t been in the room when I went off to college. “If you don’t mind?”
“Beats the hell out what’s normally on at this hour.” He plunked down in a big comfy Lazy-Boy. His chair, undoubtedly, and also another new piece of furniture in the house. The home I had returned to was simply overflowing with unexpected surprises. “I am your stepfather now, Jenny, so we really should get to know each other better. All I know about you is what your mother’s told me and, from what little I’ve discovered about you so far…
“Beats the ever-lovin’ hell out of what I knew about you… up until a couple of hours ago.”
“Got me there, Jenny.” Victor grinned his big, friendly grin. “Ask me anything you like, you’ll ether get a straight up answer, or, if I consider it too personal, no answer at all. Fair enough?”
“Fair’s fair,” I replied with an easy smile. He would get the exact same responses from me; a straight answer, or none at all. I thought about all the things I could ask of my new stepfather, all the things that probably should be asked, but there was one question that really intrigued me. “Okay, how did you get into the porn business? I mean, you’re an intelligent man, you’re well educated, why go into something so sleazy?”
Victor’s eyebrows arched. “That’s one hell of a lot of question there, young lady; and an impertinent one at that. But, luckily, it’s not one I consider too personal.” He sat up and propped his elbows on his knees. “It’s not something anyone actually sets out to do, you just sort of…fall into it.” He pursed his thick, dark lips. “Maybe that should be phrased, ‘You get sucked into it’.”
Victor went on to explain how he had gotten out of college with a BA in Business Administration, but had been unable to settle into a job he felt comfortable in, so… “I had done some nude modeling in college… tasteful Art Class stuff, not nudie pics for some sleazy rag mag. Anyway, I was a good looking black guy, well packaged, with a big ol’ cock that seemed to always be hard around good looking women, and I could keep myself from busting a nut, if I wanted to bad enough, so I decided, ‘Why the hell not?’ At least until something came along that I truly wanted to spend the rest of life doing.”
Victor sat back and popped the footrest up. “And the rest, as they say, is history. Seven, no, almost eight years in front of the camera’s all-seeing eye, under the sweltering lights, sticking my ‘never-fail’ black cock into bimbo after mindless bimbo, while pretending I enjoy every minute of it.”
“And you’re going to sit there and tell me you don’t enjoy the hell out of what you do… and you really expect me to believe it?”
Victor cocked his head and snapped me one of his conspiratorial winks. “Some times I do. I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t. Other times? Other times it’s just a physically demanding job and the second the director calls ‘Cut” I can’t get out of the studio fast enough.” He laid his chair back and looked into the kitchen. “And get back home to my sweet Emmy.”
It had been a good story. Most likely not all of it, but told straight foreword, with revealing dashes of self-deprecating humor. “All right, one more from me, and then you can ask me something.”
“Shoot.”
“How did you meet, and get involved with Mom?”
Victor smiled. “Actually, it was Emmy who tracked me down. But, that’s a story I think you should try wheedling out of her.”
And that, as they say, was that. I knew I would nothing else about it from my stepfather. “Your turn.”
“Humm… let’s see now…” Victor thoughtfully stroked his chin—more stage acting then actually considering something, I figured. “All right, how are you doing in school?”
Lame. Real lame. But, it was as good a place to start from as any. “So-so,” I answered. “I thought I might have a real gift for words, but now I’m not so sure. I can think something up, but it never seems to come out quite the way I want it to. I mean, it doesn’t sound convincing in my own ears, so how can it possibly make any sense to someone else?”
To his credit, Victor didn’t laugh, or even smile. “Writing isn’t something that can be learned in just a year, Jenny. Or in two years, or three, or even four. Putting thoughts into cohesive, conjunctive sentences, paragraphs and pages requires time, and experiences along the way. And then it takes a an unquenchable desire to open up and share your inner self with others.” He sat up and cupped my chin. “It’ll come, Jenny girl. You’re a smart young woman; but you tend to reach beyond your present limits. Let patience and perseverance take you wherever it is you want to go in life.”
I wasn’t exactly flabbergasted, but I was in that “Wow” state of mind. I was already hooked…solidly…on this handsome, big-cocked black man; at least sexually. I’d be lyin’ if I claimed otherwise. Now I was coming to understand my stepfather a little better. And also to like him… a lot. Not as much as my mother did, but enough that I felt entirely comfortable sitting there in front of him with my tits on open display.
Mom came into the room and stood alongside Daddy’s chair. “So, what are you two jaw-jackin’ about?”
“Just getting to know each other better, Mom.”
Victor slid his arm around Mom’s waist and pulled her down into his lap. “Why, you got somethin’ more interestin’ in mind, woman?”
Talking time was clearly over. Now it was playtime. I fell back in the easy chair and flipped my skirt up over my tits. “This interestin’ enough?”
“Jenny,” Mom gasped, “you’re not wearing any panties.”
“Neither are you, Mom. I can see your bush like that filmy cloth isn’t even there.” I wantonly spread my legs wide apart, giving both of them a wide open look at my uncovered pussy. “Now, one, or the both of you wanna do somethin’ about your daughter’s deplorable pantiless situation? Anything? Anything at all?”
“Emmy,” Daddy said, “we clearly got us one insatiably horny daughter.”
“And, an impetuous one.” The light of raw lust in her eyes, Mom squirmed off Victor’s lap and grabbed my hand. “Come on, recharged black stud, let’s drag this slutty white-hoe daughter back in the bedroom and teach her a thing or two about running around the house without any panties on.”
Victor got up, grabbed my other hand, and back to the bedroom they dragged me. Well, it wasn’t really dragging; it was more like an all-out race to see who clamored onto the bed first.
The slutty white-hoe daughter won. Boy, did I ever win. I won BIG TIME!
A lot happen between the three of us that first night in the same big bed… and I do mean a LOT! Most of it was shrouded in a sexual haze of entwined white, black, and white bodies; hard, aching nipples, an even harder black cock; powerfully delivered loads of hot, slimy jizz; gooey, cum-seeping pussies and sweet-cream-gushing cunts.
But, there is one thing that stands out clearly in my mind to this day. I hadn’t been even vaguely aware of it happening that very first time I had had gone down on my mother and stepfather, simultaneously—I had been a little too busy satisfying my escalating curiosities to be aware of anything except for cunt and cock right then; it was only later that night, lying sandwiched between Mom and Daddy, that the delirious thought came to me: Had I, unknowingly, unwittingly, and unintentionally, found my place in life, the one particular nitch I seemed to fit into like a round peg in a round hole; that of being a slutty, bisexual white-hoe for my mother, and even more for my mother’s black husband?
Possibly for a big, strong, black cocksman of my very own one day?
To be continued…
” Well now, this chapter once again started off on a fairly high note and wound down on a more introspective one… with just a splash of far more to “cum” tacked on at the end. Wicked bitch, ain’t I?
Seeing as how you’ve stuck with me so far, I hope you’ll hang on and ride this double taboo, interracial whirlwind to its inevitable conclusion, which, I promise, will eventually come full circle… right back to where I left poor Denny, and you, so to speak, “Hanging out to dry” at the beginning of Chapter 1. ”
Love, Luck, and continued Lust;
JordonLynn
Oh, one more thing:
I receive a lot of feedback, some of it positive, some negative, some derogatory, and some down right hateful. I received one the day Chapter 1 of this story was posted from that will-o-the-wisp—the hit and run for cover critic, Anonymous, that tickled the shit out of me and I simply must share it with all of you.
Anonymous Comments: die kranke fantasie eines dreckigen, dummen, faulen Niggers Schwachsinn
For those of you who don’t read German, the liberal translation is: the ill fantasy of a dirty, stupid, putrid Niggers Imbecility
Apparently, this dreckigen, dummen, faulen Neo-Nazi didn’t approve of the previous chapter all that much. And, since there is no way of responding to someone who doesn’t have the guts to crawl out of the woodwork and use his own name via email, I’ll just do it here, for all of you to read.
{Sie genehmigen nicht interracial erotica, lesen es nicht!} {U keurt niet interracial erotica goed, leest het niet!} {Vous n’approuvez pas l’erotica interracial, ne le lisez pas!} {¡Usted no aprueba de erotica interracial, no lo lee!} {Non approvate il erotica interracial, non lo leggete!} {??? ????????? ??? ???????????? erotica, ??? ?? ?????????!}
German/ Dutch/ French/ Spanish/ Italian/ and Greek translations: You don’t approve of interracial erotica, don’t read it! JL