by Iona Nixon
Naked now but for bra and crotch-less panties, she straddled Jake, held his dick in her fingers, and rubbed the pink head of his cock against her brown pussy. She looked down, just as the head went inside her pussy, and fell in love with the contrast!
Carmen sank down all the way, with a gasp, and stayed there a minute, enjoying the feeling of his white dick all up in her pussy.
Oh my god, it feels so good!
Looking down at the wonderful contrast between her flesh and his, she lifted her booty, then dipped it low, and picked it up slow.
She moved her hips slowly, and gently. He'd been through so much, all she wanted was to give him soft gentle loving.
Oh shit, this feels so fucking good!
She closed her eyes, listening to his cock moving inside her wet pussy, and the bedsprings starting to squeak. She added long sensuous moans to the symphony.
And then, she felt hands. On her waist.
Opening her eyes again, she saw Jake, wide-awake finally, caressing her smooth brown skin with his white hands, which were nice and warm, thanks to his asthma medication.
She smiled at him, as she stroked his arms. "Hi, baby."
He said a sleepy, "Hi. What are we doing?"
"We're making love. Do you want me to stop?"
"Hell, no."
Carmen laughed through her moans. "Good. Very good." She leaned forward, and kissed his lips so softly and gently, she thought he would cry.
"You want these black tits, baby?"
"You have to ask?"
"Take off my bra."
Jake moved his hands up her sides, then up her back, and undid the clasp. Using the tips of her long red nails, Carmen pushed the straps down around her arms, and tossed the bra behind her.
Still riding his cock, Carmen looked down as Jake filled his hands with her breasts. "Aren't they beautiful?"
"Oh my god, they're great." He gently fondled and squeezed them.
"Wouldn't you like to suck them, baby?"
Jake slipped his arms around her, and tried to sit up, but Carmen pushed him back down, gently. She hung her breasts within range of his mouth and hands. He alternated between her left and right breasts, licking her nipples, then sucking on them with rather gentle intensity.
The sensations added to her pleasure, knowing she was giving him pleasure, even as she kept moving her hips, up and down, up and down.
She ran her nails through his hair, pulling back somewhat, to kiss him, so softly and so tenderly. "Jake, can I ask you something?"
"Uh...yeah, I guess."
She giggled. "Have you ever been with a black woman?"
"Like this? No."
"You mean, I'm your first?"
"Yes. My. First."
"You're my first white man. Did you know that, baby?"
Jake shook his head wordlessly. Carmen kissed him again, deeply and passionately, then lifted herself up again, and kept riding him in that slow easy way of hers. But her dips were becoming more urgent.
They didn't say anything more, their motions slowly built up to a quicker cadence, but still that slow speed. Their own bedsprings-and-moaning symphony continued in steady unbroken cadence, until Carmen felt her pussy walls contract around his dick, and he suddenly stiffened up and grunted loudly. Not wanting to break the spell, she kept him inside her, feeling his cock pulse. She leaned forward, and kissed him, softly and gently, letting her tongue play against his. She kept moving her hips slowly, until she felt both their orgasms fade.
And then she climbed off him, settling into his embrace.
Carmen snuggled up to Jake, and pulled the covers up. Oddly, he didn't react either way, except to put his right arm under her, and around her waist. She sighed, sounding like she felt, completely satisfied.
Jake stared up at the vaulted cathedral ceiling. "Carmen. What have we done?"
Her voice was soft and smooth as satin. "We just made love."
"Yeah. I know. I was there."
She chuckled. "I'll be honest. I surrendered to a moment of personal weakness."
"A moment of weakness? Are you serious?"
"Baby, shush for minute."
Jake quieted.
"When I went to go see my boyfriend today -- well, ex-boyfriend now -- I caught him with another woman."
"No way. Are you serious?"
"Yes, very serious. And you'll never guess who I caught him with."
"When you put it that way, it makes me afraid to guess. Who?"
"It was Wendy."
His face whirled to meet hers. "How do you know?"
"I heard them together, Jake. Heard them talking. Heard them fucking."
Jake's face tightened. He stared at the ceiling again. "I see."
Carmen put her hand on his chest, marveling again at the beautiful contrast. "That was why I made love to you."
He looked at her, openly. "And why was that?"
"I felt you deserved something for all you'd been through."
Despite himself, Jake smiled. "I appreciate your selfless nature."
Laughing, Carmen replied, "Thank you. Just don't tell Samantha."
"Why not?"
Carmen rolled her eyes. "Jake, not only would she kill me, but she would more than likely never talk to you again."
"I'm not following."
"I do not believe you. Please do not tell me you haven't realized that Samantha is crazy about you."
Jake opened his mouth to protest, but closed it. He spared Carmen a glance. "I haven't had the chance to really think about it lately. As you know."
"I do know. But now?"
"I just realized, the night I was in the hospital, Samantha was all dressed up like one of the characters in my books."
Carmen scratched his chest with her long nails. "Yes. The night of your birthday, she was going to give a present you wouldn't soon forget."
Jake was silent for a beat. "Oh my god."
"Is that good or bad?"
He gave her a look. "Are you kidding? That's good. I've been fantasizing about Samantha since the day I heard her voice on the phone. No offense."
Carmen smiled. "None taken. But Jake, we have to keep this from her."
"We do?"
"Jake, she is so crazy about you. She wanted to be your first black woman."
"Wow. Seriously?"
"Yes, seriously!"
Jake stared at the ceiling again. "Damn."
"I'm sorry I stole that honor from her, but I'm not sorry about how I feel right now, in your arms."
"You're not, huh? And why was that?"
Carmen smiled shyly. "Well. Thanks to you and all your books about black women and white men, I've wanted to try white cock for the longest time."
Jake grinned. "And how did you like your first white cock?"
"Oh my god, I loved it."
"So, my books did all that for you, huh?"
"Jake, baby, I'm not going to lie to you. I took this job because it was an opportunity to meet you."
"I'll have to thank Samantha some time."
She laughed. "Yeah. Definitely."
"There's only one problem."
"What's that, baby?"
"I don't know if I can go on without you."
"Sweetheart, you don't need me. Not anymore."
"No, I don't need you. But I need you."
Now it was Carmen's turn to be silent. "Sweetheart, I'm afraid we only have one choice to choose in that area."
"Why?"
"Jake, honey, you're a client."
Jake said, "And. So?"
"I just had sex with a client. It doesn't matter if it was sweet tender lovemaking, or just fucking. Either way, I've committed a major no-no."
"I'd rather not have to choose at all."
"I know, baby. Me, too. But sometimes we have to choose."
"Yeah. I know."
"But you know what?"
"What's that?"
"You will always be in my heart. And you will always have this in your heart. I was you
r first black lady. And you were my first white man."
He looked at her with passion in his eyes. "Just don't be a stranger. I don't want the next time I hear from you to be like Christmas or something."
"Okay. It's a deal. Besides, I didn't say I would be out of your life entirely. Just that you shouldn't get used to this."
"Yeah, well, you climbed into my bed."
Carmen swallowed. "I know."
Jake stared at the ceiling again and said, "God, I'm going to have so many stories to write...after I sort this all out."
Carmen laughed out loud. "You sure will!" She kissed him gently. "Let me go shower and change. I'll get dinner started."
The End.
Miss Agatha Willoughby's Academy
Julia Ponsonby had not taken her parents' divorce well. She had always been a daddy's girl and she missed her father terribly. It had not helped that her mother had remarried almost as soon as she received the Decree Nisi and that her stepfather was extremely unlikeable. Harold was something big in the City and was filthy rich but Julia found him cold and controlling. She was disgusted at the way that her mother fawned on him and seemed to accept his every whim (and there were many) as law, so arguments with the both of them were many and growing ever more bitter.
Things came to a head on her eighteenth birthday. She had been drinking more and more heavily for some weeks, and on this, her first ever legal night she had celebrated to excess. She groaned as she staggered out of the taxi to see that the lights in their large town house were still on. Somehow she managed to open the door quietly, intending to sneak upstairs but her stepfather was waiting in the hall.
"And what time do you call this?" He asked.
"Well I call it 2.30, what time do you call it?" Julia said with false bravado whilst trying to ignore her mother who, dressed only in a dog collar, bustier and fishnet stockings, was kneeling at Harold's feet, staring devotedly upwards like a gun dog.
"I call it high time that your unacceptable behaviour was halted. I am no longer prepared to tolerate your defiance. If you won't discipline yourself then it will have to be instilled in you by other means, young lady. I am sending you to finishing school tomorrow and hopefully you will learn how to behave there"
"Well I'm not going, you're not my father."
"No but I am your legal guardian until you're 21 and come into your inheritance. Until then I have full and absolute control of your body." The way that he stressed these last words and the way that he stared at her as he said them made Julia suddenly very glad that she was going away. After a few minutes of raging and swearing for form's sake, she accepted the inevitable and ran off to her room.
She was hardly expecting to be sent to a top Swiss School, but Miss Agatha Willoughby's Academy for God's sake? What on earth was that? Where on earth was that? She googled and her gloom deepened. It was an exclusive school in the heart of Surrey dedicated to the teachings of its namesake. Agatha Willoughby had been at the forefront of the Suffragettes. Indeed it had been fully expected that she would lead the movement until she was suddenly asked to step down in somewhat mysterious circumstances and she faded into obscurity.
The Prospectus stated that the College was "dedicated to the schooling of young ladies of a refined upbringing between the ages of eighteen and twenty one and who needed to be retrained in the standards of behaviour expected of them which had been ignored or insufficiently emphasised by conventional educational establishments." What on earth did that mean? It sounded as though it was a reform school for posh totty with IQ's lower than their Bra size. Julia frowned. Its fees were astronomical! Something wasn't right here. Why should her stepfather want to spend this fortune on her when university was far cheaper and he knew that she would be off the day after she inherited her legacy?
Julia's researches were interrupted by her mother's screams.
The two women had never been particularly close, but Julia was becoming increasingly concerned about her mother. Margaret Ponsonby had many interests and had found the conflicting duties of marriage constricting. As a girl, Julia had grown used to her mother's growing demands for for 'personal space,' yet this goal had been abandoned as soon as she had remarried, in favour of what Julia considered to be an overwhelming obsession with sex. Her high fashion clothes had been thrown out, to be replaced by skirts whose hems had crept ever higher and now rested just below her bum. Meanwhile her necklines plunged ever lower, revealing both a loss of a bra and the gain of many nipple rings. Julia considered that she now looked like a tart.
And she was behaving like a tart too. Julia had had a sheltered upbringing and despite having a classic English Rose beauty had very little knowledge or indeed experience of sex, and it had never appeared to be high on the agenda of Margaret either, but now her mother seemed to be constantly in need of a good fucking.
Harold just had to be hung like a donkey with the stamina of a horse as Margaret made her demands and her passion known at a volume which would have deafened the average Eastern European tennis player.
There was no way that Julia could concentrate with the moans, the screams and the torrid appeals to be bumfucked coming from the bedroom next door. She jumped into her bed and tried to get to sleep with her head buried under her pillow. Perhaps going to boarding school was going to be a good idea.
So the next day she found herself in the back of the Bentley, being driven to the village of Great Fuckinham and to Miss Agatha Willoughby's School for Young Ladies.
The chauffeur pulled up on the gravel drive, opened her door and drove off again, leaving her clutching her suitcase, surveying the ivy covered walls of a large and extremely ugly country house. She had been expecting to see hordes of schoolgirls running around but the place seemed deserted. Feeling lost and small, Julia pulled the bell rope.
The large wooden door swung open and Julia gaped. In the hall stood a maid. Or rather half a maid. Her top half was immaculately and traditionally dressed, with a frilly lace cap, black high necked blouse and a white bib. But there it ended...literally. Her blouse finished just below her pussy, and then bare legs descended to black rubber clogs.
"I said Can I help you madam?"
"Er...yes...er...I'm a new girl."
"Of course, please follow me." Nonchalantly, the maid bent down to pick up her suitcase revealing a complete lack of knickers and a neatly shaved pussy. A bemused Julia followed her swaying bum through a large Hallway with oak panels and highly polished floor tiles.
The maid came to a solid oak door, marked "Miss Evangeline Hunter, Head Mistress," knocked and motioned for Julia to enter.
Miss Evangeline Hunter sat behind a large oak desk. She was almost a parody of Julia's expectations. A large florid woman with her greying hair drawn back into a severe bun and an incipient moustache. Her buxom bosom was encased in a white blouse, a tight tie and a heavy tweed jacket. In a booming voice she asked Julia to sit down whilst she finished off her correspondence. Julia perched on the chair in front of the desk. It was weird. At first glance it was a traditional straight backed hall chair, but a large hole had been cut into the generously covered seat, and why on earth had it been upholstered in rubber? She was beginning to doubt her senses. Had she really seen a half naked maid flashing her cunt? It hardly seemed possible as she glanced at the normality of the cluttered room with its cabinets full of silver cups, its walls covered by old photos and in one corner for some strange reason a stuffed octopus.
The silence was suddenly broken by the gentle sound of running water splashing onto the polished tiles. Julia looked up in surprise. It seemed to be coming from behind the desk but Miss Hunter was continuing writing unconcerned. Just as suddenly it stopped, Miss Hunter signed off with a flourish and turned to speak in clipped and plummy tones.
"Well I'm pleased to welcome you here young lady. This is an old school with a rich heritage, dedicated to the teachings of a very great lady. I'm sure that you will find things very strange at first. Most of my gels do, but all of them come
to understand and love the wisdom and traditions that we foster here. They're all off on a cross country run at the moment. That's one of our traditions, my gels love running around in the fresh air communing with nature and so it seems do the villagers. They're marvellously supportive, they always come out to cheer the gels on. As there's no one about at the moment I'll show you around."
Miss Hunter rose and came round her desk and Julia stared in shock. Just like the maid, the headmistress was impeccably dressed, but again just like the maid her bottom half was...was...well, missing! Her top ended just below her crotch, then thick bare legs emerged, covered in varicose veins and ending in the same rubber clogs that the maid had worn. In a daze, Julia got up and followed the woman. It was surreal. She was walking behind a half naked middle aged woman who was showing her around with a total lack of concern that anything was amiss.
Everywhere was as you would expect, the only unusual thing about the building was its utter lack of carpets. Floors were either of highly polished tile or equally polished wood. The school smelt like every school did, a mixture of boiled cabbage, disinfectant and ... urine?
Julia followed Miss Hunter up some bare wooden stairs, observing queasily that the older woman was definitely not wearing knickers, and then they entered her dorm.
"Well I'll leave you here to settle in, I can hear that the first of my gels are returning. Your uniform is on the bed, please put it on as soon as you can and we'll dispose of your street clothes."
Julia could only nod silently. The dorm was equally surreal. The study desks with their computer terminals looked perfectly normal, as did the bookcases and the posters of various pop stars, but in the corner of the room were two exposed shower stalls and between them a hole in the floor that seemed to be a basic drop toilet, all without any means of privacy at all. She had been told that eight girls would share the room but their were only four double beds. Were they expected to share? She was beyond surprise.
She inspected her uniform, such as it was was. It consisted of a straw hat, a white blouse, the school tie and those black rubber clogs. Her suitcase with her spare clothes was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly the door burst open and in rushed another girl. All she was wearing were the ubiquitous rubber clogs and a sweat soaked running top.