A Perfectly Pleasing Fit

Connie Wake was feeling a certain amount of satisfaction as she stepped out of her front door, into the steaming hot sunlight, to collect another box from the boot of her car. Most of the furniture and carpets had been changed. Only the stair carpet remained and someone was coming that morning to replace it. The main bed would be replaced on the following day.

The house was hers now and she was going to make sure that anything remotely connected with her bastard husband Victor, was eradicated. God, she had done everything he wanted of her. A hell of a lusty guy, with the drawback that he was often less than considerate about her pleasure, he had, for a while, disguised the fact that Connie was not exclusively the only recipient of his dubious sexual skills.

So while she was allowing him to demand various sexual favours, in various parts of the house, he had been secretly screwing God knew how many other women. That fact alone was sufficient to cool her own warm libido.

Just after she had established that his indiscretions were more than just suspicions, he had made his last twisted demand on her, wanting her to give his friend, Dave, a blowjob while he watched. When she refused he had called her a stuck up bitch, and stormed out of the house.

The following three months had been very hard to manage. Victor told her that he was moving to Italy with what he called 'a real goer'. Being a financial director he was rich enough to agree to Connie keeping the house, and she herself was making enough from her writing to maintain a decent bank account.

So here she was altering the house to remove all things Victor, from the premises. The two items left in the boot, were a brand new computer and a 45inch TV. Under this hot sun she was glad she was lightly dressed in only a thin green cotton summer dress. Naked and about to have a shower, she had realised it would be pointless getting herself all sweated up again. Accordingly she had thrown on the dress as cover. Now, in spite of that, she still felt of trickle of perspiration down the middle of her back.

That was the moment that a large blue van pulled onto the drive behind her car, Connie was just able to make out the name on the side, 'Garston Wilde, Carpet Fitter.' She was pleased that he was on time. Garston Wilde had fitted the original carpets in the house, and over the past four weeks or so, had fitted their replacements. The staircase fitting would see the end of that side of things.

Over the years Garston Wilde had often spoken of his family in Jamaica, and how difficult life was when he'd first arrived in this country. The colour of skin had been a major difficulty in those days. But with determination and no little fortitude he had built up his business, and hoped his son would continue with it. "But he has other skills and I've talked him into going to university to get himself a good degree," he had told her.

Connie stepped from behind her car in time to see the van door open. But it was not Garston Wilde who stepped out. Tall, with a well muscled chest showing through the white T-shirt he was wearing, his ebony skin shining in the sunlight, it had to be Garston's son. His smile lit up a dark skinned, handsome face. As he greeted her, something unexpected stirred inside Connie

Bam Wilde, had felt just a little unhappy as he had driven out to this house. It was the only job he had for the day, and tonight his father had organised a surprise birthday party for his mother. At least that was something to look forward to.

But what was griping him, on this hot, sunny Wednesday, which was Wendy's half day, was the fact that they might have been driving together out to the Thorley Woods. Once there, he would have tried, once again, to persuade her to put out. But with Wendy, the technique that Brenda had gifted to him, ten months earlier, just did not work.

But, just three weeks earlier, Wendy, under the influence of her mother, Bam was sure, had decided that she found it difficult to justify to her friends why she was going out with a black man. Especially, they'd told her, when Rory Coutts was mad about her.

"I'm not being racist or anything," she had insisted. No, Bam had thought, but your mother is. He had known that from the moment the older woman had looked at him with those wide, startled eyes under a frowning brow.

But all of those annoyances were forgotten as he jumped down from the van and the lady appeared from behind the raised boot lid of her Volvo. Bam's breath stuck in his throat as he forced a cheerful, "Good morning," and his smile was one of pure delight at the vision in front of him.

This had to be the customer, Mrs Wake, and his father had told him that she was a stunning looking woman. With his first glance Bam had decided that his father had misunderstood the meaning of the word 'stunning'. With her tawny coloured hair curling at her shoulders, her bright eyes, full lips, and a figure that curved generously in all the right places, this lady was way beyond just 'stunning'.

Even as he looked, a playful breeze briefly pressed her thin, green dress against her body, and Bam was sure her nipples jutted against the material. The cotton lower down pressed against her thighs showing a tantalising inverted V at her crotch. Bam was a little shocked to feel a gentle pulsing in his pants.

Whoa, boy, he warned himself. You're here to work. Get the job finished and go and find yourself a woman to cure that twitch. You have no chance with what is probably a white, stuck up bitch like her. Even if, as she had informed his father when accounting for the total carpet refit, there was no husband.

He moved to the back of the van, hauled out one of the rolls of stair carpet, and heaved it onto his shoulder. As he turned back towards the house he saw that Mrs Wake had moved back onto the porch.

Connie had indeed moved back near the front door, disturbed by the stirrings inside her. How had the sight of this young black man been so exciting? Watching him haul a roll of carpet onto his shoulder, she noticed how the muscles on his arms flexed and seemed to glow in the sun. The expression on his face was serious as he approached, but had his eyes not drifted over her dress? She became suddenly very aware that she was naked under that dress.

As he came up alongside her, he said in a deep warm voice, "My father had client meetings, so I'm stand-in. But I'm well trained." She stepped aside, and gestured for him to pass, noticing how tall he was, more than a head above her five feet seven inches. "Just stand it in the hall," she said, cursing herself for the strained voice. What the hell was wrong with her?

But this was one powerful looking male with wide dark eyes had seemed to search into her brain as he walked past her. Could he read the confused state of her mind?

Having off-loaded the carpet he came out and as he moved past her on his way back to the van, Connie found herself asking, "I wonder if you would do me a favour?"

Bam was totally entranced by the close-up look of her. Green eyes, high cheek bones, generous mouth, and that tawny hair, that matched with the lioness look in those eyes, as she looked at him. Briefly he wondered what age she might be? Not many years older than him, and had he misread that look? Well, at least she didn't seem that stuck up. The aroma of her as he walked into the hall, was as though the air was fused with roses.

He had stepped down from the porch as she made her request, and being below her, his eyes were more or less level with her breasts. There could be little doubt that her nipples under the thin material of her dress were unfettered. His ready mind had framed an answer to her request, 'I wonder how much you would appreciate the favour I would love to do for you?' But all he actually said, as he raised his eyes to hers, was, "If I can, I'll be happy to."

Connie was concerned about the way she had felt as his eyes had looked directly at her breasts before looking up at her. She managed to point out the television and the computer in the car boot, and then she watched the movement of his body as he went about collecting them. His buttocks looked delightfully shaped in those jeans. Had she ever noticed male buttocks before?

Seeing him lift the heavy items revealed to Connie that he was a composite of flexing muscle it, and she was unable to control her fascination, or the sensations that were stirring in her lower body by watching him. Oh, yes, there was that physical ache that came from many months of having her libido suppressed. She warned herself that the way he had looked at her, pleasing as it was, could not be taken seriously.

Cautiously she pointed him in the direction of the living room when he brought in the television, but as he carried in the desktop computer she knew that was going to be in the converted bedroom she used as an office, and that was upstairs. The idea of leading him upstairs was just too much, so she made directions suffice.

"First door, just put it on the desk up there. I'll connect it all later."

His glance at her as he began to mount the stairs was unreadable, but she imagined, or wished, maybe, that he was inviting her to go up with him. But she went on to enjoy the muscular undulations of those buttocks as he went up.

When, within seconds, he came bounding down the stairs, she was still standing in the hall as though she had nothing better to do. All she could manage to say was, "I'm so very grateful."

His warm smile cut deep into her stability, and had her legs trembled? He told her that he had to bring in the second roll of carpet from the van, and again she could not resist watching his every move.

Bam was trying desperately to resist the thoughts that she was engendering in his mind. Were her glances all just to ensure he was doing everything right, or, was there just a shade of curiosity in her eyes? Some hopes, Bam, my boy. But she was still standing in the hall when he returned with the second roll.

Dropping it alongside the other one, he turned to hear her say, "You must be so hot. Would you like a cool beer before you start the job?"

Bam's excitement rose a few degrees and he said, "If it's not too much trouble." While he thought, about just how grateful she might be.

Connie was totally bewildered by the fact that she had offered him a beer. Gratitude is one thing, but this guy was there to do a job, and, by rights, she should just let him get on with it. But here she was leading him through to the kitchen, and stooping at the fridge to produce two cans of lager.

As she moved for two glasses from the eye level cupboard, she was thinking of his ebony skin, those strong facial lines, those probing eyes, his muscular arms and those large black hands. The next thought she had to quickly suppress as she thought she might be moistening between her thighs. This was impossible.

Bam had followed her into the kitchen, which was richly appointed with glass fronted cupboards all around the walls, a large table in the centre had four chairs around it. Bam enjoyed watching the sway of her behind as he followed her from the hall

He sat on one of the chairs, and took much pleasure from seeing how, as she stooped at the fridge, the tightened material of her dress clearly revealed her backside crack. He was certain there was no bra, but could it be that there were no panties either? What did that mean? He ducked away from the ready answer, ' Accessibility'.

She brought that aroma of roses, perspiration and something indefinable with her as she put a can and glass in front of him. "Care to pour your own?" she asked. "I'm useless at it."

"Thank you, Mrs Wake."

"Call me Connie," she said, sounding strangely nervous as she sat in the chair opposite him. "You?"

"I get Bam--it's short for Bamber---some telly guy my dad liked."

"Unusual," she remarked, looking uneasy as she fumbled to open her can. Bam had flipped his own open and poured the beer carefully down the side of the glass. He could see that Connie was still having difficulty in opening the can.

He stood up and moved around the table and said, "Let me." Bam flipped open her can, and filled up her glass, at the same time savouring again the mix of aromas that came from her.

Connie could only sit there as he leaned over her Turning her head towards him her eyes were level with his crotch, and she had to breath in deeply at the extra bulge she saw there. Was it true what they said about the size of men of his origin down there? Well she didn't aim to find out. Did she? Did she? Oh, hell, where was her usually composed mind?

Having done his duty, Bam returned to his seat and took a long refreshing drink of the lager, refreshing and cool in his throat. To make conversation and sensing her uneasiness in his company he said, "My father told me why you're having the house redone, but it's a fine house. Were you married long?" He immediately feared it might be an impertinent question, but her face was relaxed as she looked out of the window before replying.

"Too early, when I was twenty. And it was dead by the time I turned twenty four, earlier this year."

"So what do you do for a living?"

Not at all upset by his questions, in fact glad that he was interested, and relieved to have something to detract her wayward thinking, she told him, "I'm an author."

"Might I have read anything. I read a lot."

"Love stories? All romantic fiction--plenty of kissing but no sex." The word seemed to hang in the air, and did Bam's eyes widen? She quickly moved on, "Do you have any hobbies?"

"I sketch in my spare time, do some painting."

"Are you good at it?"

"My Dad thinks I am. Wants me to go to art college for a degree."

"Sounds interesting. Will you?"

"They'll take twenty year olds so I'm thinking about it." He glanced at his watch, "Talking of my father I'd better get started."

"Yes," Connie agreed, as she stood and leaned over to collect his glass, even as she did she realised that the front of her dress had sagged and she saw Bam's eyes looking directly down at what he must see of her naked breasts. And all she could think was, not shame, not distress, but would he like to touch?

She hurried to the sink and went through an exaggerated performance of washing the glasses. Connie had hoped that talking might have quelled the spasms she had been having ever since this big, imposing man had arrived.

Bam was well aware of her uneasiness but just could not dare hope it was because of him. He picked up the two cans and moved towards her to ask, "Is there a waste bin?"

Connie knew she was making the washing of the glasses into a kind of defence mechanism. but those spasms would just not subside. As she turned, raising her hand to indicate the bin, her eyes could not avoid that increased swelling in Bam's pants. At the same time her pointing fingers came into contact with his arm, and momentarily lingered there. It was a kind of relief when Bam turned away, put the cans into the bin, and with a strange unreadable glance back at her, moved away towards the hall.

Moving at all had been a monumental effort on Bam's part. The lingering of her fingers on his arm had been like a shot of adrenalin. Was her touch strictly accidental? He was so aware of his cock being restricted in his pants. He so wanted to touch her in return, but would she have screamed rape?

As he moved towards the foot of the staircase he became very aware that she was following close behind him. Glancing over his shoulder he immediately saw the clouding of those green eyes. Impulsively he held his hand back towards her. The big moment! He was employing what Brenda had once told him. She either ignored it or she took it. With leaping heart he felt her fingers close around his. He gave just a slight tug, as he reached the foot of the stairs and turned to face her.

The tug of his hand, his turning to face her were all that Connie needed to open the floodgates of her passion. There was little concern that this was a black man, and she had never kissed a black man. Was this going to be more than that? The most important thing in her mind was that here was a beautifully built man, who, in her eyes, had massive sex appeal, and most importantly, who was also attracted to her. Without needing further thought she pressed her body eagerly against his and lifted her face to receive his kiss.

Instantly they were locked together, her lips parted to welcome his tongue, she sensed those lips being fuller than any man's she had encountered, but nothing mattered as she pressed her thighs to search out his hardness. Connie was so aware of his hands roaming frantically over the thinness of her dress, and down over her buttocks, his fingers tracing her crack. Connie wriggled her thighs and had to go way up on her tiptoes in an attempt to get that hidden lump where she wanted it, hard in her wetness. She was unable to make the contact, but, oh, she wanted it so badly.

Bam was almost overwhelmed by her eagerness. Their mouths meshing together with tongues wrestling wetly was a natural progression, but he was stunned by the way she went up on her tiptoes squirming as she tried to get the hardness of his cock up into her crotch. All her actions up to this point left no doubt about exactly what she craved.

He was only too happy to oblige and he squeezed her buttocks, his hands pulling her more firmly towards his hardness. Even more rousing was allowing his fingers to probe deep along the crack. Her passion was now his passion. His balls were throbbing, his erection strained against her lower belly, only separated by annoying material.

Hungrily he moved his mouth from hers, allowing her to release gasps of delight as his lips and tongue rampaged over her face, her eyes, her neck and shoulders, where her dress had slipped sideways. He tried to get his hand on her breasts but their bodies were too locked together. At that moment she took a half step back and her fingers fumbled desperately at his belt.

Connie knew there was no time for finesse. She was mad to know what manner of organ she would find behind this zip. As she pushed his pants and boxers down she felt Bam tearing at her dress buttons, then his hands, such massive hands, were completely covering and squeezing both breasts. A flame shot from the joy of his caress right down into her already grasping vaginal passage. His murmurs of approval, were an extra aphrodisiac to her fevered body, as her eager hands searched down to find his erection.

It took no searching. Within seconds her fingers touched the hardness of that rod, and an involuntary gasp rose in her throat, as her hand attempted to close around it and slide along it.

"Oh, God, It's been such a long time, since--" She didn't finish the words she had gasped. How many erect penises had she held like this? A maximum of three, she estimated, but none of them had the girth, or length, not to mention the warmth of this massive organ, and her first black one. Could this fit inside her without tearing her apart? All she wanted was to find out..

Connie would have liked to look at the majesty of it but she had already pulled Bam close to her, and as he followed, her back struck against the banister support.

Bam's inner heat had been raised by Connie's speed and directness in finding his cock. In the heat of the moment he was delighted to hear her gasp out, as she held his cock, that he was the first for a while. He had feared that he might be one of many passing fancies for her. Yet his heart told him she was not that kind of woman.

Bam had never considered himself that well endowed, but if she was impressed by it, then fine. Her delicate fingers working over it and pulling him against her were almost too much as his balls felt full to bursting.