A Black Man's Tale Pt. 03

A Black Man's Tale Part 3

THE CHRYSO EPISODE

Then, I met the third member of the Greek trio. This was Koulla's sister-in-law, Chryso, who was married to Koulla's brother, Tony.

In common with her two compatriots, she too was a hairdresser by profession and was trapped in a loveless (Sic. sexless and emotionally bereft) marriage. I won't bore you with the details, but basically her relationship with her husband and kids had declined into a state of apathy, born of familiarity and neglect. Her old man's vice was gambling, a pre-occupation that left him with little, if any spare cash or time to lavish on her. Her two sons, both selfish, delinquent little pricks, gave her little cause for joy or motherly pride in their achievements.

She had long ago ceased to look within the family for self-fulfilment and began to pursue extra-marital liaisons, to re-affirm her femininity and desirability to the opposite sex, usually with men several years her junior.

Chryso was tall and uncharacteristically blonde for someone of Mediterranean origin.

She was a few years younger than her sister-in-law and her body was in good shape and well-toned in testimony to her twice-weekly workouts in the gym. The breasts were not as full as those of her sister-in-law and sagged a bit, but she had a great ass and long, shapely legs.

She came onto the scene one sunny, Thursday afternoon. She was accompanying Zola, to make a foursome with my friend Terry. Terry was the friend who had lent me his flat for my numerous assignations with the ladies in question. I did not mention it earlier, but Terry had his flat wired with webcams in the bedroom, bathroom and sitting room for the purpose of recording his own sexual exploits. So, as a condition for the privilege of the use of his amenities, I was obliged to video my encounters with my 'Greek sluts' (his words). Subsequently, after having viewed the juicy sexual antics of these 'sluts' he insisted on meeting them so that he could 'skewer some juicy kebabs' (my words).

Hence, thus obligated, I arranged the meeting I am about to describe. As it transpired, Koulla was unable to attend on the specific date, and so, Zola brought along Chryso as a last-minute substitute.

At this point, it's probably as well to give a little background on my friend Terry.

Terry was a white boy, from a Home Counties' middle-class family: the archetypal WASP! He was in his early thirties, tall, blonde, blue-eyed and of athletic build; quite handsome; affluent and professionally successful. He was the founder and director of a thriving IT and telecoms company (hence his faculty for wiring up his flat with a 'peeping tom' system for his prurient enjoyment and delectation). With all these attributes, and his 'go get' attitude that stood him in good stead in his business life, he had no problem getting laid. His prolific collection of camcorder videos was testimony to that fact.

He was also my boss. As such, I owed him a lot, since he gave me the break I needed, by employing me after I left college, thus, giving me the opportunity to achieve the life-style to which I had become accustomed.

It was a sunny Thursday afternoon, as I recall, when the ladies arrived.

Following the customary formalities and introductions, we sat in the sunny sitting room of Terry's first-floor flat, with the spring sun shining through the tall, Georgian bay windows.

From the outset, it was clear that both the women were attracted to the smooth, good-looking Englishman. Zola was especially so, if her blatant coquettishness during the preliminary introductions was anything to go by.

Chryso was coy, probably because she was slightly unsure and intimidated by the unfamiliar environment-- I mean, not the prospect of illicit sex on a sunny, midweek afternoon, but the impromptu manner by which she found herself there. She admitted to me later that she had known all her previous paramours well in advance of the eventual sexual peccadilloes in which she subsequently indulged. However, this was the first time that she was about to have sex with someone that she'd been introduced to only a half-hour earlier!

Terry, as always, the genial host asked what everybody wanted to drink.

The consensus was for coffee, so he disappeared into the kitchen to switch on his latest toy: an Italian cappuccino coffee maker. No sooner had he left the room, than Zola got up, mumbled something about going to the 'loo and exited in the same direction.

Chryso and I made idle small talk while we waited. The clatter of crockery and Zola's hoarse laughter could be heard from the kitchen. Who was chatting up whom, I wondered? It didn't bother me. In fact, I was starting to enjoy the company of the cool, aloof and attractive woman, who sat next to me on the sofa. I surveyed her thoroughly, from head to foot, musing (and hoping) that underneath the reserved and detached exterior there was probably a passionate and lustful persona. As it turned out, I wasn't wrong in my assessment.

Terry was taking a long time with the coffee, so I excused myself and headed for the kitchen to investigate the reason for the delay. I didn't get as far as the kitchen, since I ran into Terry in the corridor. He was holding a frothing cup of coffee in each hand as he greeted me, "Hi, old man, I'm going to show Zola my etchings."

He winked and added, "Enjoy your coffee."

And with that, he turned and headed for his room. At that juncture, Zola emerged from the kitchen, holding a tray with another two foam-topped cups. She beamed at me and handed me the tray.

"Be a darling and take that in," she chirped. "I hope you don't mind...," she went on, and nodding in Terry's direction she added matter-of-factly, "... if I fuck your friend?"

"Not at all," I responded, "be my guest!"

She nodded in the direction of the sitting room, where Chryso was sitting, and added, "Enjoy!"

And, with that, she turned abruptly and headed for the door through which Terry had just disappeared.

"Well, it was on the cards, I suppose," I consoled myself.

The beguiling prospect of getting into Chryso's pants was suddenly a reality and a worm glow bathed my nether regions.

I returned to the sitting room and placed the tray on the coffee table in front of Chryso. I met her inquisitive gaze and pre-empted the inevitable question,

"Sorry about this... seems we've been stood up... your friend's gone to see Terry's 'etchings.'"

"Oh, I see," she replied matter-of-factly. There was no hint of bemusement in her voice.

I handed her a cup and sat next to her, holding my cappuccino.

"I hope you don't mind," I proffered apologetically.

"No, not at all. I hope you're not disappointed. That's just like her, you know: always looking after number one..."

"Oh, believe me," I interjected, "it doesn't bother me at all. Let's just drink our coffee, shall we, and get to know each other a little better?"

I detected a slight smirk forming on her face as she glanced down at the cup, which hovered below her lips.

Well, it was definite now! I was fully reconciled with the fact that I was going to screw the enticing creature sitting next to me, who was now demurely and nonchalantly sipping her coffee. Was that expression I glimpsed a smirk of disapproval or a smile of satisfaction at the thought of sex with a younger, black guy?

I surveyed her over the top of my coffee cup, as though I were seeing her for the first time. She was wearing a loose-fitting athletic blouson over a tight-fitting, black leotard trouser and trainers. She was, in fact, dressed for the gym, which is where, she'd told her husband, she'd be that afternoon. Her fair hair was brushed back and held at the back by plastic clip. The tight-fitting leotard accentuated her once-trim, legs and thighs. This part of her anatomy was shapely and well-proportioned, and would have done credit to a woman twenty years younger.

The overall effect was very tantalising and the warm glow that had started in my crotch a few minutes earlier now covered my whole body and I could sense my dormant cock beginning to stir and the tip moistening in anticipation.

"So, what do you want to do?" I inquired, somewhat ingenuously.

"Need you ask?" she responded. "My friend told me there was the possibility of sex with a virile, young stud. I hope she didn't drag me along on false pretences."

She put down the cup and her lips formed a faint hint of a smile as she gazed at me, through hooded eyelids, gauging my response. She opened her jacket and shrugged it off her shoulders. She wasn't wearing a bra under her leotard top, and her breasts formed broad, shallow mounds under the tight material. Her nipples stood out clearly, stiff and erect.

Her announcement took me by surprise. I just sat there, gaping at her incredulously. She was absolutely right, of course, that's why she was here. On the other hand, I was expecting to be with Zola and had not anticipated her last minute decision to screw Terry instead of me.

Taking the lead again, she continued, "I wasn't sure what to expect but, in a way, I'm glad I ended up with you. I've never slept with a black guy. So, how about it? You wanna be my first black fuck?"

"Well, since you put it like that," I responded, "yes, please! I'd like nothing better."

She moved close to me, placed her hand on my inner thigh and her face close to mine.

My cock, further aroused, had started to stir in my boxer shorts.

"As a matter of fact," I quipped, "you've never been fucked until you've been fucked by a black man!"

"Z'thatso?" she hissed, as our lips touched for the first time.

My hands rose to her breasts as our mouths pressed together and I began to massage her nipples with a slow, circular motion of my thumbs. Her hands took hold of my face as she probed my mouth with her tongue and, in turn, sucked my tongue into her mouth.

In the meantime, Terry and Zola were apparently getting into their stride. We could hear muffled moans and other sounds of passionate, frenzied fucking emanating from Terry's room. My thoughts flashed momentarily to Terry's spycam system and I made a mental note to be sure and view the results later. I found the idea of watching Zola being shafted by another guy rather appealing. Then, another thought crossed my twisted mind: at some time in the near future, I'm sure he'll want to shag Chryso and record it for posterity. I would love to watch that video, too... OK, so I'm a perv! I don't deny it, I am!

"What do you say, shall we get on and do what they're doing?" I enquired, gesturing in the direction of the sounds of Zola and Terry's passion.

I gazed into her green, limpid eyes

"Well, that's why I'm here," she replied coyly, holding my steady gaze.

She reached down and stroked the elongated bulge that stretched the length of the inside of my thigh. A lascivious smile broke across her broad, untinted lips.

Seizing this cue, I took her hand from my thigh and led her to the second bedroom.

Before I had even closed the door behind us, she had peeled off her tight leotards, and was undoing my belt and lowering the zip on my trousers. I let her undress me and took her lily breasts in my hands, massaging the wide rosettes that circled her full, erect nipples with my thumbs. I pressed and squeezed her firm nipples, as she located and held my fully engorged prick in one hand and cradled my tight scrotum-sac in the other.

I pulled her to me and, reaching behind her, I grasped her buttocks. I squeezed, kneaded, and parted them gently, craning my neck over her shoulder to observe my hands distorting and re-arranging her full, soft bottom. She suddenly pushed away,

"C'mon, let's fuck!" she pleaded.

So, without further ado, I pushed her onto the bed and reached for the tube of lubricant that I had placed on the bedside table together with the customary pack of condoms. I squeezed half of the tube contents onto my fingers and knelt over her open crotch to grease her up. I applied it over her labia and fingered it liberally and deeply into her vaginal passage.

Writhing with pleasure, she moaned, "Oo-ooh, for chrissake, fuck me, will you!"

Always glad to oblige a lady, I reached for a condom.

"No, no," she snapped, "just as it is... put it in just as it is... now! Please?"

She was too far gone to care about protection. And so was I -- the pre-cum fluid was oozing out of the tip of my, now, painfully erect cock. Grasping my rigid prick, she guided it between her swollen labia and into her gaping vagina. I pressed it home and it slid in easily.

"Oh, yes, yes," she gasped, "put it in me, oo-ooh, ye-e-es"

I pumped her with long, slow, deliberate strokes. Her white, shapely thighs were spread akimbo, bent at the knees, with her shins parallel to the ground.

"Ahhh, ahh, fuck me, fuck me!" she moaned, "give me your black prick... give it to me... Oh-oo-oo-oo!"

Obligingly, my rock-hard prick pummelled her smooth, well-greased crotch.

I loved to watch my veined shaft disappear and reappear through her gaping labia, as my hips oscillated to - and - fro, in sync with her gasps and moans.

How's that," I murmured, "can you feel it inside you? Can you feel my black prick? Can you?"

"Oh, ye-e-e-es, fu-u-u-uck me," came the response.

Her laboured breathe came in short, nasal snorts in time with the rhythm of the pelvic thrusts that pounded her tormented crotch.

"Isn't this a lovely shafting? Don't you love it? Don't you?"

"Mmnnn...y-y-y-e-e-e-ss..." she sighed as her voice trailed off.

"You're a lovely fuck, and I love fucking you," I encouraged, attempting to elicit a verbal response, "Don't you love being fucked by a black man?" I added.

At the height of sexual ecstasy, 'talking dirty' or the general use of language and expletives, not normally used in polite conversation, has the effect of heightening the pleasure, and I used them to good effect.

"Tell me how much you love being shagged like this... tell me... tell me... "

I slowly withdrew my un-jacketed penis, which was by now at the height of its rigour and dripping with her vaginal juices. She sensed it withdrawing and looked up at me, with an expression of alarm on her face.

"Oooh, no-o-o-o, no-o-o," she moaned, as she gave me a semi-bewildered look, through a tuft of dishevelled hair that streamed over her flushed forehead.

I ignored her pleas, and pushing her onto her right side, I sat astride her right leg, raising her left leg and placed her pale, freckled, calf on my shoulder. Then, lifting her body by her waist, so as to present her gaping crotch to my prick, I rubbed her labia and clitoris with the swollen, bulbous tip of my fully engorged penis. It slid in easily to its fullest extent and I resumed a slow, deliberate rotary movement of my hips to stimulate her clit.

I alternately rotated against the broad-lipped slit and pumped her crotch, as I observed my thick, black, rock-hard truncheon slide smoothly and easily in and out of her pale, shaved pussy.

"Harder, harder!" she moaned.

I didn't require any further encouragement. I was already positioned above her crotch, thrusting deep and hard. She was on her back now, with both legs opened wide to permit me easier entry, as I thrust deep and savagely into her.

"Yes, yes," she panted, "Ooh, Ooh, ye-e-e-es, that's it, oo-oo-ooh!"

I glanced down at her crotch to survey the long, slow, action of my penis, withdrawing to its limit, and then pushing back down into the wet slit between the deep valley formed by her shaved crotch and her well-toned inner thighs. The sight of its firm, veined, girth disappearing and re-emerging from the folds of her cunt, combined with the sound of her laboured breathing and occasional moans and gasps was very re-assuring -- and stimulating.

I slid a finger into the brown-rimmed, hairless orifice of her ass and massaged her colon in time with my shafting motion.

"You like this?" I panted, "how's this for a good rodding, then?"

"O-oo-ooch, pl-e-a-se don't stop, don't sto-o-o-op," she exhaled.

I quickened the tempo with short, shallow strokes, as I felt the wall of her vagina starting to contract. I reached for her breasts, squeezing and teasing them with one hand, while I massaged her hot, full, rounded buttocks with the other. She reached up and slid her index and middle fingers into my mouth and moments later, her head curled back as she pushed me away, arching her back and sliding her pelvis from under me.

Take it out! Take it out!" she gasped, letting out a long, low moan as she climaxed.

I was on the verge of orgasm and cursed at her sudden change of heart. I wished she'd given me warning to withdraw! I barely managed to extricate my slick, unprotected prick when, I came too. The sudden release of my fleshy plug from her wet crotch was marked by a loud, resounding 'pop' as, shuddering and trembling, I ejaculated copiously over her breasts, her stomach and her crotch.

"Ahah, ahah, haaa," we exclaimed in unison.

Suddenly, it was all over. Our bodies, with all the tension and feral energy expended, collapsed in a tangled heap onto the disorderly mattress beneath us. I lay on top of her and curled my left arm around her neck.

She'd, obviously, thought better of unprotected sex with a stranger and opted to have my 'come' spattered over her breasts and abdomen rather than inside her. I marvelled at her enormous presence of mind, to act at such a crucial stage!

She wrapped her arms around me and, turning her head towards my face, she kissed my mouth with dry lips and whispered hoarsely, "Mmm, that was wonderful! The best..." her voice trailed off.

As my erection rapidly subsided, I became aware of the slick melange of 'come' and vaginal secretions that covered her front, inner thighs and my crotch.

"What's the matter?" she asked. She must have seen my grimace.

"Oh, nothing... it's just this... yucky mess!" I replied gesturing at the glistening slick on her breasts.

"Mmm, it's nice! Besides, it's your yucky mess!" she countered playfully.

"And it wouldn't be all over you now if you'd let me wear a condom!" I replied mockingly.

"Aw, don't be like that," she chirruped, "I wanted you, so bad..., I had to have you inside me. Stopping to put on a bloody condom would have spoilt the whole thing," she pouted complainingly.

"Besides," she went on, "when I feel you inside me I want to feel you, not a piece of rubber!"

"So, how was your first black fuck, then?" I asked.

"I really, and I mean r-e-all-y, needed that!" she responded.

Her smooth, freckled hand had settled on my on my almost flaccid cock and she squeezed it gently as she said this, causing my scrotum to tingle.

"Like I said, you've never been fucked 'till you've been fucked by a black man!"

Shrugging her shoulders, she squeezed me and gave a forced laugh.

Then, after a short pause, she added, "I wish I'd met you sooner in my life!"

"Well, it's never too late," came my consolatory reply, "we can always try and make up for lost time, eh!"

She lifted her head from my chest and, raising one eyebrow, she inquired, "How about starting now?"

"D'you mind if we take a shower before we resume?" I pleaded.

"Oh, alright then," she replied, not disguising the disappointment in her voice.

The lovebirds in the next room had, apparently, got their second wind and the sounds of wild, abandoned sex had resumed. Terry must have had Zola up against the wall, because I could hear her throaty voice clearer than before and louder than his. Her moans and exhortations of, "Fuck me, fuck me!" and "Oo-ooh, you're killing me!" interspersed the periodic thumping sounds emanating from the wall. It sounded like ol' Tel was literally, banging her against the wall! Hard!