New Beginnings

Chapter One

"Take me to the fuckin' hospital...I want this baby out now." I growl through gritted teeth to anyone that would listen but especially to the dark skinned young man holding my hand and rubbing my lower back as I leaned against his shoulder in the birthing pool.

"We are almost there, Lizzie. You're doing perfect...he'll be here soon." His voice was infuriatingly clam.

Looking into his dark black eyes as I clutch his hand tighter, "WE aren't doing anything...you arrogant little arse. I am. You did your part months ago." I accuse with venom in my voice.

Leaning gently forward he pushes the damp hair back from my pale skin. "I thought you had forgiven me for that, luvy." His question laced with meaning.

I didn't have time to reassure him of the truth as another contraction hit; even harder if that's possible. I closed my mind and sought another place free of this excruciating pain as my pale fingers intertwined with his stronger much darker coffee coloured ones. Coffee needs its cream, he would joke.

So how does a forty-five year old mum, widow and midwife end up with an ungodly swollen belly in a birthing pool with a twenty-one year old black university student? Not by accident; on his part anyway. Not that the black part had been any real issue. I was married for five years to a black man before he was killed in an accident at work, which is where Daryl's story began.

Since moving to London to be with my husband James, I had watched Daryl grow up. His mum lived a couple of doors down in the quiet and neatly kept council flats in which we and my in-laws resided. My husband's family had lived there since he was a little boy so it seemed idyllic to rent the flat next to theirs from an old family friend. Back then we had been a large family; my husband and I had a baby girl as well as my two almost adult sons from my first marriage in a three-bedroom flat. But by the time that my husband was killed both of my son's were well established in their own lives at university. It was just the three of us in this now seemingly large flat. Then suddenly it was just two.

Unless you have been through it you can never understand what it feels like to say good-bye one morning and never see someone again. Not that things were perfect mind you. Over the years, the sex that had once been great became routine and much less frequent. We fought like all couples; over money, over my kids, over how to raise our daughter. But overall ours was a comfortable life. I worked evening shift at the local hospital so that our daughter always had one parent at home with her. My husband worked in construction. James had been saying for years that it was a young man's game and that he should find another career, but he never seemed to do anything beyond talk as if he did not know how to make such a huge change.

Oh I forget the particulars of looks I suppose (they are important in stories such as this I guess). Average. That single word describes me. My height, my weight (although these days of course average is a size twelve not an eight). My 38C bust in proportion to my waist and hips. My hair was a non-descript mousy colour which was neither blond nor brunette but somewhere in-between. The only truly remarkable thing about me was my eyes. They were green...actual green...not hazel.

As for Daryl, he was raised by a single mother who received housing benefits. He lived in the flat on the other side of my in-laws. I first met him the summer that we arrived in the UK. It was the in thing then for kids to spit: a nasty little habit. Our first meeting was a long lecture from me, the nurse, on the hygienic reasons not to spit on the common sidewalk. He was of course a defiant sixteen year old and his response was a dirty look.

That evening his mother, who had sought asylum a decade before from a vicious war in Africa, stood outside our door; apologetic. She had made Daryl come as well. And I saw that despite the anger boiling in this young man he deeply loved and respected his mother, who had sacrificed so much for him. Esther stayed long after he had made his apologies and run off to some mischief with his friends. Her eyes were those of one much older than her thirty-some odd years. It was odd as she spoke of trying to raise a young black man in a foreign land without strong tribal traditions or customs to realise that this woman was actually younger than me. My heart ached for her because I too was a foreigner in this adopted country, but I had a husband and a good job to ease the way. Esther worked long hours in a factory packing and shipping expensive goods to rich customers; yet in her country she had once been the wife of a minister of health. From that evening Esther would often wave or stop by to chat if I took my daughter to the park.

I heard through her of the struggles to keep this bright young man focused upon his studies while his friends fell away to drugs, gangs and mischief. I actually encouraged my youngest son to fill the void a bit; befriending the young man, who was only eighteen months older than he was. But in the end, Esther's worries were unfounded. Daryl exceeded anyone's expectations; getting high marks in all his subjects. He secured a place in one of the better sixth forms as well. Actually my older son had gone there and encouraged him to apply as well. So during those couple of years before James' death, Daryl was at our home almost daily.

But then my world fell apart; in a single moment of carelessness. Even eighteen months later and at times in a seemingly different place, I cannot bring myself to describe the details. The days right after are nothing more than a blur. I held tightly to my three-year old daughter, but seemed to push away everyone else. My sons became angry at me, but I was lost somewhere in my own world of self-pity and unable to see that they too shared the pain of loss for a man that had been their friend and surrogate father. My in-laws, who had always been the close family that I had wanted, were also pushed away. Ironic, given that I always told James that I could never divorce him because I might lose his mother.

But then in the weeks after, Ellie and I fell into a routine of sorts. We woke up early each morning and ate breakfast together. Then I walked her to school before returning to my empty flat. It was in these few hours each day that I was able to express my tightly controlled emotions often crawling into bed to toss and turn restlessly until nightmares of being torn from James' strong arms would wake me. Then it was time to once again make the short walk to her school. Of course I was all smiles at the gate when I picked her up. At home, we did average things: reading, homework, watching telly and making tea. Then I would bath her; seeing so much of James in his daughter. We read and then she fell asleep and I got ready for work. Her Nan or uncle would stay with her during the night while I worked.

Of course once or twice a week our routine varied a bit when I taught childbirth classes at the hospital. My heart would often crack a bit more watching the happiness of the young couples as they anticipated their new babies. Of course there were single mums as well. It was these women that I often found myself bonding with: sharing the pain of loneliness, of the journey of single parenthood.

Emotionally, I bounced between idealising the man that I had lost and anger at him for leaving me alone to raise a mixed race child in a world where despite what we might like to think race and class still mattered. I felt alone: deeply alone. And horny. I had always had an extremely high sex drive; several times a day would have made me quite happy. Of course, even before he died our sex life had fallen well below my needs. But I remained faithful to James; primarily respect for my best friend and out of fear of losing all else that we had built together. I would instead watch videos or read stories and take matters into my own hands if you will.

So by about six months after James' death I was literally climbing the walls. I felt if I didn't get some big black cock soon I would explode. On the other hand I had built this life; career and mum to a young child. I was uncertain how exactly to take care of one without losing the other. But then again I had no idea that I had a secret admirer just a couple of doors down...or that he was planning to not keep it a secret for much longer.

***

It actually all began one rather chilly and rainy September morning after I dropped Ellie at school. As I walked home I turned over the possibilities of going to one of the mostly black clubs in Hackney or Lewisham. But I doubted very much that clubbing was my scene. I had visited lots of chat rooms, but was not quite brave enough to actually meet any of those men; most were probably just white pretenders anyway.

It was these thoughts I mulled as I walked up the tree lined street back towards the estate. I was lost in a world of lust when I ran quite literally into Daryl. I suppose it must have been the gutter that my mind was in, but for the first time I realised what a hot young man he had grown into. Standing well over six feet he was solidly built having taken up rugby in secondary school. His dark skin and braided hair made him look like some African tribal god that he was. I could not help my physical reaction as my nipples hardened beneath the heavy cream jumper and plain white bra. And wet pooled in my white cotton knickers. I blushed when his large hands brushed against the side of my breast as he prevented me from falling causing my nipples to ache and bud even more.

"Miss Lizzie, where are you off to in such a rush?" he asked in his deep voice distinctly British but with a hint of something more.

Shaking myself, I reminded myself that Daryl was younger than my oldest son and I was older than his mother. This was the same kid I used to lecture I told myself; although looking at him it was hard to imagine. "I'm sorry, Daryl. I was just heading home. I dropped Ellie at school. So I'm going to get a cup of coffee and then some sleep before I pick her up. What about you? You off to uni?"

"Nah...it doesn't start until next week. I was just gonna hang a bit. But that coffee sounds good." He asked almost too sweetly. I suppose I should have made excuses about sleep or some such thing. But I was not thinking with my big head then. Women too can think with their little heads: clits. So instead I nodded and invited him back to my flat.

We made small talk for the next two minutes; about his mum, my sons even the typical British weather. It sounds trite but I actually fumbled with my keys at the door. At forty-four, a grown woman, who knows sex intimately in many ways. But it finally opened and we stepped inside the slightly warmer entry. At that moment I turned to suggest that perhaps another time would be better.

But Daryl was right behind me, actually pressing me against the wall. His breath against my skin was really hot in the cool entry way. I pushed against his broad chest. I swear I could feel the heat from his buff body even through layers of coats, jumpers and shirts. "Daryl..." I began before he unceremoniously stuck his thick tongue half way down my throat; sucking and pulling at my tongue for several moments. I felt my breasts already heavy and full with unfulfilled fantasies actually thrust into his hands; filling them. His fingers stroked and pulled upon my nipples through my jumper. I knew I had to call a stop to this: as horny as this young god made me I could not allow this to happen. My in-laws and his mother lived just next door. When his hot lips moved to my throat, I tried to find my voice. "Daryl, please we can't..." My voice sounded odd in my own ears.

I could not stop the moan from escaping my throat, my soul, went I felt his still chilly hands pushing up my thick jumper and shirt. "Why not? You need cock. How long has it been? Six months? More?" I could not deny the truth in those words...six months, three weeks, and four days. I could have told you the hours and minutes if my mind had been clearer.

He moved quickly then; brushing my bra back from my generous breasts. Pinching and squeezing the already painfully erect nipple. "Dam...woman...I been wantin' to taste these white tits for four years." Then he drew them strongly into his wet mouth. Suckling hard as his hands squeezed the whole tit as if milking it. My mind told me I had to stop this before it went any further. But my body begged for just a taste more of what his hard cock was offering as it rubbed at the juncture of my open thighs.

He drew back as if to admire the sight of his spit upon my tits. "Ever since I watched Ellie sucking milk from these things...I've wanted to suck your creamy white titties." His hands squeezing them even harder as if searching for a drop of the long since dried up milk. "I wanked to that since then," he pronounced slowly looking into my green eyes as if to dare me to call a halt to what I logically knew I must.

I tried to ignore the image of this young black god stroking what I could tell even through his track suit was his impressive cock. His mind filled with images of what I considered a normal function of the circle of life. But realising also that same circle very much included the very act he described as wanking. "Daryl...you're Kyle's friend...your mum has tea with me. Hell, James' family is right on the other side of that door. Even if I wanted to, we can't." There...I had said it. All at once in some trite lecture; not unlike the one I first gave him years ago.

He smiled, actually smiled, as he stepped back just enough to push his pants down enough to reveal the largest cock I had ever seen. And trust me when I say I have seen some impressive black cock meat. I had seen this big in porn of course, but not in real life. It was honest to god almost the size of my forearm and its uncut head peeked from behind the foreskin as I noticed a drop of thick pre-cum oozing from the piss hole. "You need this Lizzie." As simple as that.

Taking my hand he placed it around his thick, uncut black pole and held it in place as he lead me silently up the stairs to my bedroom. Once inside he lifted my jumper and shirts off over my head in a single move. Then he easily unhooked my bra. How could this kid be so good with bras I wondered? Then unbuttoning my jeans and equally as smoothly divesting me of those as well.

I blushed then; aware of the imperfections of age and three pregnancies upon my forty-four year old body. My stomach was soft and jiggles especially compared to his hard washboard abs that could have been in any fitness adverts. I crossed my arms too beneath my breasts realising that they were no longer the perky firm globes of my youth.

Daryl laughed deep and hearty then as he pushed me back onto the bed I had once shared with James. "Lizzie, if I wanted girls, I could get all the pussy I want...vanilla, chocolate and every flavour in between." Kneeling then between my open thighs his fingers firm at the top of my cunt, he drew it open so that he could see the throbbing bud of my clitoris. "I want a woman, Lizzie." The thick fingers of his other hand stabbed inside my dripping wet pussy then as he held me pinned to the bed. "This white pussy, Lizzie."

He spat each word clearly before lowering his dark braids between my thighs. His tongue did not play. It homed right in on the throbbing slickness of my clit. He flicked it back and forth first quickly then slowly as his fingers were testing and stretching my cunt for what was to cum. He feasted on my pussy for several minutes.

I had the biggest orgasm of my life almost immediately. Usually I cannot stand anything touching my clit for sometimes afterwards as its sensitive bud retreats behind the hood. But Daryl was having none of my protests or pleas of enough. When my clit would have disappeared into its safe hiding place, he used his teeth to capture it as he sucked and flicked at it.

That's when I felt it; his fingers had reached the depths of my cunt and found my cervix. Gently and slowly at first he began to circle it in lazy strokes. Then I felt his touch slip towards the inner circle as if seeking to open this one-way path as he had opened my nether lips. That is when the facts of life hit me. I was naked and open with a very young virile male...and there was not a condom in sight.

Sitting up a bit, I breathlessly implored, "Daryl, do you have a condom?" I held my breath in hopes.

Damn young buck actually had the balls to wink and say, "Hell, no!" before he returned to gobbling at my soaking wet cunt like a mad man.

My mind was not working that well at the moment. But being a midwife and childbirth educator, I am more than a tad bit familiar with issues of women's fertility and cycle. Let me tell you it is NOT easy trying to remember when your last period was with warm, thick black lips wrapped around your clit and the most impressive black cock you have even seen pointing at your bedroom ceiling. But I finally managed to do so with a huge sigh of relief; my period was due in just about a week. It can't get any safer than that. Then of course the only issue was disease. I knew better than to blindly think because you know someone they are clean.

Trying once again to be the voice of reason, "Daryl...please...we have to talk about this," I pleaded weakly.

That got a rise out of him: he rose right up off his knees, his large black frame suddenly blocking out the white ceiling as he used his hips to keep my legs open. His hand massaging one creamy full breast as he guided that weapon into my sopping cunt. "I'm clean. So shut up. I have waited four years to fuck your white pussy and I'm feeling every single inch of it." He calmly pronounced as he slammed the first seven inches deep into me. Stretching my unused little pussy until it both stung and I had another massive orgasm. "See, I told you, you needed dis," he pronounced circling his hips slowly to work another inch or so in me. "Damn, you tight. Tell me how good this big black cock feels!" he demanded.

For a moment I thought perhaps I ought to put a stop to this: that maybe this boy might be more than I could handle. Which is when he showed me he was. Placing my legs on his shoulders, so that he could look down at me, he turned his face so that I felt the roughness of his whiskers. I was caught in the spell of his ebony black skin (was it possible he was even a shade or two darker than James) against my paleness. His tongue licked down the inside of my calf as his hips kept playing that same dance of slow circles.

He voice raspy, "I'm going to work it all in that hot wet white pussy...then I'm gonna cum in you." I should have known then I was a goner as I came yet again. I turned my head and bite into the pillow this time to keep from screaming out so loud that both our families would come rushing. "That's right baby...you needed that big black cock, didn't you?"Slapping my white ass hard enough to turn it pink, "Tell me you love my cock."

Shaking my head, I fought to regain control and my dignity, but in the end with a few more unbelievably deep strokes I gave in, "Yes, I love your big black cock."

Asserting his dominance Daryl slammed deep into me, deeper than ever before. As if to dare me to deny it he once again thrust deep; so deep that I bit into the bed to keep from screaming: from pain and pleasure as I came so hard that my cunt juices squirted all over him and dripped onto the cream coloured sheets.

Then I felt his strong body tense as he quite literally flooded my womb. His whole body shaking as he fell forwards a bit but even then considerate enough to bare his weight upon his forearms. A moment later he mischievously smiled at me and kissed my nose, "Dat was not fair. I wasn't ready."