tagInterracial LoveForbidden Furry Fruit

Forbidden Furry Fruit

byMadabouthair©

What category this story ends up in is Literotica's call. I have put it in Interracial, but it would also fit in Mature and Fetish. It's about an older white man and a younger black woman. She keeps her body natural and the man likes it that way. If anything there offends you, you probably won't like this story. Otherwise, please enjoy.

***

"Kenya!" I exclaimed after the cashier greeted me by name, and although I knew she was there I hoped my pretending to be shocked at seeing her rang true.

"Long time no see, Mr. Taylor," Kenya said, her big white teeth made even brighter by the chocolate lips and ebony skin that surrounded them. "How you been?"

"Okay," I lied, and I knew that Kenya saw through that one, because while it had been almost four years since Kenya had stopped being a fixture around our house, they hadn't been good ones for me.

Four years ago my wife had left me, having grown tired of life out in the middle of nowhere, and while I sensed she was unhappy, there wasn't much I could do about it because this was my home, Remsen, New York. It's where I was born, went to school, and worked, and also where I fell in love.

The former Mrs. Taylor not only left, she took our daughter Emily with her, and that was what really hurt. Then again, I couldn't blame a then 16 year old girl for preferring a more "hip" place to live. 1971 in Remsen was a lot different than the world Emily saw on TV, and I guess also that a daughter belongs with her mother.

Kenya was Emily's friend, even though Kenya was a little younger. Emily had befriended Kenya because she felt bad that pretty much everybody either ignored her or gave her a hard time. Black people in our neck of the woods were rare, and I always thought a lot of Emily for being nice to the girl, because she seemed like a wonderful kid.

Emily might have been older chronologically, but Kenya was more mature in many ways. Wiser in a street-smart sense, and while Kenya was not a raving beauty, she had something about her that I suspected would break a lot of hearts along the way.

Kenya was now working the register at the local IGA grocery store, and I had noticed her when walking past the store the other day. Even though it had been four years since I had seen her, she seemed much the same as back then. Long and lean, Kenya still looked as sleek as a leopard, probably close to 6' tall, and while she hadn't filled out in the ways girls do as they become women, she had a way about her.

Behind the store name tag with KENYA printed on it, her breasts were still only modest bulges in the uniform top, and while her bottom was still bigger than her top, her rear-end wasn't all that much out of proportion with the rest of her.

"You hear from Emily?" Kenya asked, her voice stirring me out of my daydreaming, and when I told her that I did every week, she told me to say hello for her.

"She coming up to see you at all this summer?" Kenya asked while I fumbled with my wallet.

"No, not this year," I responded. "She's taking summer classes as some sort of accelerated program."

"Too bad. I would have liked to have seen her again," Kenya said. "Maybe we could have gone back to the swimming hole like old times. Remember that?"

"Oh sure, " I said and added in jest, "If it stays this hot I might go back there."

"I still do," Kenya said with a grin.

"You do?"

"You don't mind, do you Mr. Taylor?" Kenya asked with a grin.

"Heavens no. Just be careful because there's no lifeguard there any more," I cautioned.

"I know. I was kinda hopin' you would come back some time though," Kenya said. "I go back there a lot after work, about 6:30 to cool off. You ought to join me sometime."

"Maybe I will," I said, shivers running down my back when those long ebony fingers brushed against mine, and as I made a hasty retreat I remembered why I thought it was probably for the best that Emily had moved away.

***

I used to play lifeguard back at the tiny pond that was way down the hill at the back of our land. The pond wasn't really on my property, but was not really well known at all, so usually it was just Emily and Kenya splashing around back there.

Although Emily was older and more physically mature in many ways, Kenya had certain qualities that got my attention. I never did anything, of course, and as time went on I tried to pass off my lifeguard duties to my wife just to make sure.

There was no crime in looking, but I wanted to avoid any chance of getting involved in anything. Kenya was like most teen-aged girls, flirting playfully with men, probably like my daughter did when I wasn't around, so I avoided being back there just in case.

The way Kenya had talked to me that day at the market though, actually being happy to see me and making a point to let me know that she still went back there to swim and the times she would be back there? What did that mean? Was that an invitation?

***

After locking up my modest little insurance office for the day, I drove home slowly, not really sure of what I was going to do. What I wanted to do was certain, but I remembered that while I was curious and lonely, one of the few things that could make my existence even worse was to have my name dragged through the mud by doing things to a young girl.

Maybe she wasn't teasing, but if I had misinterpreted her words and it turned out she was just an innocent kid who wanted to chat about old times, a mistake like that could cost me one of the few things I had that I still cherished. My good name.

In my mind I tried to do the math. Kenya was a couple of years behind Emily in school, so while she was still young, she had to be 18 because Emily was 20, so I fought to keep the word 'child' out of my mind.

By the time I got home I knew that I would go down to the little pond. It was still a nice walk on a stuffy late afternoon, so after I pulled up the driveway of my home and threw my briefcase on the kitchen chair, I was prepared to stroll down to see if Kenya was there when the phone rang.

It was one of my customers, a client who owned a farm equipment place out on Route 12, and while I always happy to take care of my policy holders any time of the day or night, I was fidgeting as he went on, the clock ticking away.

I managed to answer all his questions but by the time I got done it was 6:35. Skipping out the back door, I realized too late that I was still dressed in my grey suit, not having changed like I had planned. The sight of a middle-aged man briskly walking through a field would have been funny had any neighbors been within sight, but that was one of the joys of living out in the sticks.

The path that Emily had worn into the brush had nearly disappeared from lack of use, but I managed to stay on the faint trail as it wound down the slope of the hill. Kenya, if she really was still going back here, must be still walking along the tracks that led from town and going back home the same way.

I felt like a fool, hustling back there in hopes that my leg wasn't being pulled, but even if it was a fool's mission, it was better than sitting alone at home, watching TV and eating some microwaved disaster. As I walked, the scene became more familiar, and I could almost picture Emily and Kenya back there playing in that little puddle that probably seemed like an ocean to them back then.

Making the turn around the patch of trees, I noted that while it was a bit overgrown back there, it was still a cute place to swim, and cursed myself for not coming back here before. I guess the memories back there were too strong.

It was quiet back there, so quiet that I knew Kenya would not be back there, which is why I did a double take when in the little pond no bigger than a basketball court, I saw Kenya. At first I thought the pond must have gotten deep because the water was up to Kenya's shoulders, but then I realized she was kneeling.

Kenya didn't notice me at first, so I was treated to a view of her from the side, and she looked amazing. Her Afro was cut much shorter than it had been back in the day, when she had a wild blown out style, and I thought that this shorter cut suited her better. Her flared nostrils and thick lips looked magnificent from this angle, and I could have stayed there and looked at her forever had she not noticed me arrive.

"Bout given up on you, Mr. Taylor," Kenya smiled as I walked over to the rocks where I spent many hours sitting.

"Got a call just as I got home," I mumbled while easing down on the larger rock and looked down at Kenya who was knee-walking close to me.

"You don't look like you're ready to swim," Kenya said as the water lapped at his prominent collarbone.

"Don't even have a suit that fits anymore," I mentioned, because while I was in decent enough shape for a 45 year old guy, I was looking my age more and more as time went on.

"Don't need no suit," Kenya declared. "I ain't wearin' one."

I took a deep breath at that, looking over at the backpack on the ground that had a towel inside of it, and on the rock where Kenya's jeans were folded. Alongside them, her bra and panties rested, and next to them, her IGA uniform top, the light blue darkened by the sweat on the back and under the sleeves.

Kenya was naked, and I was frozen there on the rock, looking like a fool in my suit coat and tie. I finally undid the tie and slipped off my suit coat before sitting back down, and Kenya seemed to enjoy my discomfort.

"You all sweaty," Kenya teased. "Nice and cool in here. You can keep your underwear on if you modest."

"I don't think you deserve to see an old wreck like me."

"Shucks, I remember when you came in swimming with us a couple of times back then," Kenya said. "I remember telling Emily - girl, your Daddy look fine in a bathing suit."

"Gee," I mumbled. "If I did, those days are long gone."

"Still look fine to me," Kenya said, rubbing water on her slender shoulders while I tried not to look when her breasts began to emerge from below the water.

"So what have you been up to?" I asked, trying to change the subject, and Kenya explained how her Daddy still worked as a guard down at the prison, and her Momma was doing okay but had been feeling poorly last winter.

As for Kenya, she had graduated high school and was going to college come fall at SUNY Cornell. She seemed to have done very well for herself, and I was very happy for her.

"So that's my story," Kenya concluded, and as she did her hands came out of from under and threw water on her head, working the coolness into her scalp.

From the knowing smile that Kenya wore, I knew that she was aware of where my eyes went as she did that, but the sight of her raw and natural beauty was too compelling for me to care at first, and only when I forced myself to look into Kenya's eyes did she continue.

"If you ain't gonna join me..."

"Maybe next time," I suggested.

"Guess I'll get out then," Kenya said, and got up off her knees while I turned away to leave.

"I'll be going now," I mumbled.

"No, Mr. Taylor," Kenya said. "Don't go - unless you want to that is."

I stood there looking away, not sure of what to do. All I had to do was turn a bit and there she would be, wet and naked, but I couldn't.

"Look at me, Mr. Taylor," Kenya was saying. "I know you used to like to look at me. Couldn't figure out why when Emily was built so much better, but then I figured it out. I like the way I look, and I think you do too. Here's your chance to see it all."

I turned, and as I did my knees got weak. Kenya was standing there, wet and naked and unashamed, and while I felt like a lecher I realized that Kenya wanted me to see her and she was no longer a child in a bathing suit but a woman.

Like a statue Kenya stood, her ebony skin glistening in the fading sunlight. She looked like a panther, her long and lithe body looking even more beautiful that I had dreamed. Kenya's hands went to her breasts, her hands cupping the apple-sized orbs, the purplish nipples swelling to her touch.

My eyes went to the jungle between her legs, a wild untamed forest of black curls that grew high and wide, completely blocking the view of her sex, and as I stared at her womanhood Kenya said that she always knew it.

"Knew you liked my hairs," Kenya said with a smile as her hands left her breasts and went back up behind her head. "It's okay. I want you to look. I ain't ashamed."

So I looked. Instead of peeking and turning away like I always had, I stared at Kenya's armpits, which she was exposing to me for my enjoyment. Armpits that had likely never seen a razor, and as she stepped out of the water and came closer she remained in that modeling position, I took in her natural beauty.

I had always favored natural women, and my wife had been very kind to indulge my preferences until the marriage went bad, so the sight of a woman who did not shave was not new to me, but Kenya was unlike my ex-wife or any other woman I had ever seen.

Kenya's armpits, deep hollows on her slender body, were full of dense black hair, and the tight black curls extended not only down towards her ribs but up along the insides of her arms near her biceps. She seemed to float out of the water and was next to me before my mind could register what was happening

"Want to dry me, Mr. Taylor?" Kenya was asking, and I found myself being handed a towel, which I nearly dropped.

Kenya was nearly my height, and as I stood there frozen in place the girl just smiled and nodded, whispering that it was okay. I placed the towel on her chest and lightly rubbed her firm little breasts, feeling the already plump nipples blossom even fuller, and Kenya sighed as she lifted her arms once again.

"I'm wet here too, Mr. Taylor," she sighed, and I found myself drawn to the hairy hollows.

I felt self-conscious at first when I rubbed the cotton through the coarse tuft under her right arm, but Kenya was smiling, not laughing and seemed to be enjoying me drying her. Whether I dropped the towel consciously or not I don't know, all I did know was that my hand was now bare, and after my fingers raked through the woolly cavern a couple of times I couldn't control myself.

"Ooh, Mr. Taylor," I heard Kenya sigh after I buried my face under her arm, and while this was something I had done quite often to my ex-wife, this was a totally different experience.

The sensation of licking and nibbling under my ex's arms, always lightly scented, was always pleasurable, but when my lips hit Kenya's armpit my senses were overloaded by her powerful aroma, which filled my nose and sent shivers down my spine.

Strong and unfiltered by chemicals, her feral aroma was unlike any scent I had ever experienced, no doubt the result of a long day at work, but I found the scent arousing and not at all unpleasant. In fact, it was more like an aphrodisiac, and as I sucked and chewed Kenya's pungent armpit, I felt Kenya's left hand pulling down my zipper and reaching into my trousers.

"Ooh, Mr. Taylor, you gotta big one," Kenya groaned as her hand grabbed my semi-erect cock and pulled it out the fly. "I knew you was big."

I didn't know how she knew that, but all I knew was the feel of her hand pulling on my cock was making it bigger, and when I glanced down and saw her black fingers wrapped around my beige manhood the sight was even better than the feel. My belt came undone and my trousers dropped to her grass

Kenya was now pulling away from me, her luscious armpit taken from me, and she was going down on her knees, kneeling in front of me and licking her lips and she looked up and me and then my cock before tonguing the tip which was peeking out from under my foreskin.

Without a word, those full lips slid halfway down my cock before pulling back, leaving it wet and throbbing. Kenya looked up at me while my hands gently caressed the tight Afro, the head of my cock still in her mouth, and then she calmly let her mouth go back down. All the way back down until her nose was buried in my pubic hair, having swallowed all 8 or 9" with little effort, and my resulting groan made me glad we were out in the middle of nowhere.

Up and down Kenya's lips slid, her hand pulling and kneading my balls while her mouth did magical things. It was clear that this was not something new for Kenya, but I couldn't have cared less about how she got her experience because I was too busy enjoying it.

It was coming to an end way too soon, the result of another person touching me for the first time in years, and while I cried out a warning that I was about to cum, it was obvious that Kenya didn't care.

The force of my orgasm made my knees buckle, while Kenya calmly let my semen slide down her throat while sucking every bit she could out of me, and Kenya was still sucking when I reached down and lifted her up. She reluctantly took her mouth off of my now limp dick, and when she kissed me and our tongues dueled, I didn't even flinch when I tasted myself. Those lips were so soft and full that just kissing this woman-child made me light-headed.

"You sweaty, Mr. Taylor," Kenya giggled, and when I looked down at myself I had to laugh myself at the sight of this middle-aged businessman.

My tie had made it off but my shirt was still on, but the white dress shirt was so drenched you could see the hair on my chest through it. With my trousers down at my ankles and me looking like a drowned rat, I was hardly the image that would inspire clients.

"I'm a mess," I grinned while looking at Kenya, who was sparking with moisture as well.

"You want me, Mr. Taylor?" Kenya asked, and after I nodded she asked me whether I wanted to take her right there.

"Want to come up to the house?" I asked, because while I wanted to make love to this exotic girl I was also aware that I wasn't a kid anymore, and I had just exerted a lot of energy considering all it did was stand there.

Kenya eagerly agreed, and while I pulled up my trousers and got my things together, Kenya simply stuffed her clothes into her backpack.

"No sense putting them on cause you only going be taking them off again," Kenya said about the long walk up the slope to my house, which was virtually invisible to other eyes. "Unless you feel funny taking a naked n***** through your back yard."

"Please don't use that word," I asked as I put my arm around Kenya's bony shoulder and led her up the hill.

I had a problem with that word, having used it once in passing in my younger days, and after seeing the hurt on the face of the guy who heard it I made a vow not to use it ever again. There's way too much pain in the world already as it is.

"Why not? That's what they call me," Kenya said.

"I don't," I responded as my hand slid over Kenya's moist back. "We didn't."

"I know," Kenya said. "You were always good people."

I didn't say anything, a wave of guilt running through me as I thought back, remembering that the girl used to play with my daughter, and now I was about to make love to her, if I could.

"Lotta memories here," Kenya said as she tossed her bag beside the door. "Hasn't changed much."

"You have," I said as I locked the door and faced her, but she really hadn't, maybe a little taller and fuller, but only the shorter hair was different, making her look older.

"You want me to take a shower?" Kenya asked, turning her head and sniffing her armpit. "Been a long day and I'm..."

I held her face over there, and like she knew what I was thinking she let her tongue slide over the hair she could reach, and then my tongue joined hers, dueling as we licked the salty hairs that filled the cavern.

"No," I said, because we were both sweaty and ragged looking, like animals in a way, and that equalled the way I felt. "I want you like you are."

I took Kenya down the hall, past Emily's room where they used to play, and into my bedroom. I hadn't made the bed, which was just as well, because our combined efforts had my soggy clothes pulled off just before we landed on the bedding.

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byMadabouthair© 8 comments/ 46578 views/ 11 favorites

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