tagInterracial LoveAt Long Last

At Long Last


I had been a student nurse for over two years in 1958 and was enjoying the course immensely. However, I was less happy about my private life. I knew I was considered a fairly good looking, blue eyed blonde, and had rarely been without a boy friend, but I was frustrated. When I started as a student nurse at barely eighteen, I had very little experience of men. The behaviour of some of the other girls had amazed me at first. Their casual attitude to sexual encounters, their openly expressed opinions of boys and their sheer enthusiasm persuaded me to accept invitations to parties. There my reserve gradually broke down and the ready availability of little side rooms enabled couples to pair off for "a bit of a cuddle" very easily. Only last week, my friends, Sylvia and Veronica, had invited me over for a party. Then they told me there would be a game of strip poker. I felt a thrilling sense of naughtiness at the prospect and put on my best underwear, plus an extra petticoat and socks over my stockings, plus both a jumper and a cardigan and two pairs of knickers. I didn't know how to play poker but I needn't have worried.

The cards were dealt round once and the person with the lowest had to take off an item of clothing. I discovered that although the girls had extra garments on, the boys hadn't bothered with anything like that. I was sitting next to a chap called Brian who was quickly down to his vest and underpants. I didn't do too well either and there was a round of applause as I eventually slipped out of my petticoat. Sitting next to the half-clad Brian, dressed as I was and seeing the bulge in the front of his pants, I felt my excitement mounting. Brian lost the next round and removed his vest. Then I myself lost the following round and, accompanied by a chorus of whoops, removed my bra. I observed that the dealer did a peculiar shuffle before dealing the next round in which both Brian and I were dealt aces, the lowest card of all. Brian helped me to her feet and led me, giggling, into the bedroom to remove my last shred of clothing, my knickers. Then he took off his underpants and climbed on top of me. He thrust his engorged cock into my willing wetness and pounded away until he came. But that was that. He left and when I was alone I wept tears of frustration.

The trouble, I later confessed to my friend Sophie, having first sworn her to absolute secrecy, was that although I had had sex with over twenty different men since I had come to London, I had never had an orgasm.

Sophie was surprised at my revelation. Like me, she was a blonde but she barely reached five feet in height. With her open attractive face, pert nose, dark eyes and cheery disposition she was popular with men. If it hadn't been for her breasts, she would still have been paying half fares on the buses. Her small stature sat uneasily with her love of cooking and wine, causing an unending battle with her avoir-du-pois. Sophie was chatty and helpful. She seemed immediately to know what to do for me.

"So far you haven't been with men," she asserted, "just boys! A twenty-year old who's never come just can't be allowed in London these days. You know it's mostly the men's fault, but not entirely. Always remember, Helen, the real joy of life is in what you can give. Sex is just the same. Giving satisfaction to your man is where you find real pleasure for yourself. You have to let yourself go, give yourself to your lover and let him have you. Then you'll come easily enough."

A few days later Sophie told me she had the solution to my problem. She arranged to have a party for me on our next free weekend together.

When we finished work at lunchtime on the appointed Saturday, I returned to the nurse's home where I bathed in a fragrant bubble bath before getting out a new pair of nylons and a white satin and lace suspender belt. I had been saving them and a matching pair of French knickers for a special occasion. I brushed my hair, which had slightly darkened from the near blonde it had been when I had left school. I pinned it up into a fashionable Grecian style. Then I examined my breasts and, chose a white satin and lace bra to support my pert but small protrusions, put on a white satin and lace waist petticoat to complete my lingerie. I selected a pale cream silk blouse with long sleeves, buttoning up the front to a shirt-type collar which I wore open necked to display a pearl necklace which matched my earrings. Then I slipped into a plain black skirt to give a smart rather than an overtly sexy picture. When I was ready to leave I donned my navy-blue raincoat, picked up my handbag and left the nurses' home.

Sophie, being a bit better off than me, was able to live in a flat she shared with a couple of other girls. When I got there Sophie, clad in yellow satin undies, had already laid out some "nibbles" with a bottle of sherry and four glasses on the coffee table. The other girls were away home for the weekend. So instead of going out, she had arranged a party at the flat. She gave me a glass of sherry and took my coat,

"In a few minutes I'm going to introduce you to a man who hasn't had a woman for more than two years." she told me.

"Golly! I do feel rather naughty," I confessed.

"I'm the 'naughty' one." Sophie insisted, "I like men and I enjoy having sex with them. Whereas girls who just say 'no' are good because they are straight with men. The wicked girls are those who lead men on and then back out at the last minute leaving them frustrated. Then there are genuinely nice girls like you, Helen, who want to help as long as they are appreciated in return."

"And who wouldn't mind being a bit 'naughty' too!" I interjected. Sophie hurriedly donned a blouse and skirt. By the time I had finished my drink, the doorbell was ringing and Sophie ushered in two black men, - very, very black. In fact, I was aware of my mouth still being open as Sophie introduced one "This is my friend Jim," as she kissed him lightly, "... and this is Paul."

Paul's brown eyes were wide and uncertain as he took my limp outstretched hand.

"Hello Helen" he said. He told me later that he scarcely dared to look at what he thought was a vision of loveliness standing just a foot away.

"Paul..." was all I managed. He had the wavy black hair, broad nose, big brown eyes and brilliant white teeth common to his ancestors. He was also tall, lean and broad shouldered. Sophie poured more drinks and passed round the nuts and crisps, chatting about the weather and the traffic. Then we sat down to enjoy the meal Sophie had prepared. She and Jim carried on a lively conversation, trying to bring us in. Paul did make some effort but was not really at ease, but I spoke only when asked a direct question. After the meal, Sophie cleared the table, put on her record player and took Jim in her arms as they smooched around to a soft South American beat. Paul wanted to dance with me too but, before he could get up courage to ask, Sophie said, " Come on you two. On your feet!"

By the time Paul had taken four steps with me in his arms, he realised he had an erection that he hoped wouldn't show We spent the next couple of hours chatting and dancing pleasantly enough. Then Paul, seeing that Jim, on the other settee, already had his hand inside Sophie's blouse stroking her breast through her bra, tried to lightly caress my left breast but after several seconds I leaned away and he desisted. So he got me up to dance again.

As we turned Paul could hardly fail to notice that Jim's other hand, which had been on Sophie's nylon clad knee, had moved slowly up underneath Sophie's skirt and was stroking the inside of her thigh, something Sophie had done nothing to discourage. Indeed Paul noticed her laughing in pleasure as she fondled the lump in Jim's groin. Thus encouraged, Paul tried again by letting his hand slip down from my waist to the curve of my bum. But I pulled his hand back up above waist level when the music ended and Paul thought it was just in time. A few minutes more of holding me in his arms and he would have had a sticky mess in his pants! He spoke briefly to Sophie before going to the bathroom. I went into the kitchen, Sophie following a few moments later.

"Paul's gone to take a shower," Sophie told me, "He thinks you don't like him and he wants to cool off. You seem to excite him and then push him away. Is it because of his colour?"

"Really, Sophie, you might have told me he was black!" I retorted, "I never thought of myself as racist but I've never even considered sex with a black man. I've never even been out with one."

"You shouldn't judge a man by his skin colour, Helen. You are more intelligent than to be so prejudiced. It's silly not to at least try to see the man underneath. I've had sex with Jim many times and his skin colour seems to have disappeared somehow."

"Also he seems to be both pushy, and awkward with it. I don't like it when a man paws at me, whatever his colour."

"Listen, that's because he hasn't been with a girl for so long, he's forgotten how to behave. I don't expect he's ever been with a girl as nice as you anyway," Sophie replied; then a bit sterner, "Certainly no one as prim and proper!"

"Anyway I just can't see myself having sex with anyone his colour," I asserted.

"Well now, do you remember what you said when we saw that Sydney Poitier film last week?"

"Yes, I know I said I rather fancied him," I recalled with a smile, "and I fancied Tony Curtis too."

"That's it then! You have fancied a black man, so there! Take my advice, Helen, and try thinking a bit more of his needs than your own. Forget the colour of his skin, let yourself go, give yourself to Paul and let him have what he craves for. You'll get the climax you need - and I'm sure he can give you."

I had a wry smile, "I wish I had your confidence, Sophie. And I'm not really sure what I expected from tonight."

"Come on, Helen, I bet you've packed an extra pair of clean knickers in your handbag!" Sophie's eyebrows raised in enquiry.

"Ah! Ha!" I affirmed, grinning.

Sophie laughed, "Then you knew very well what you expected to happen to you tonight. At least you hoped it would!"

"I just hope I don't recoil when his black skin touches mine," I said.

Sophie gave me stiff vodka and tonic, saying, "Now get a grip, Helen! Don't let any racist feelings show. Remember, he's just a man and a nice one at that."

I still demurred, "I'm a bit frightened. What about all those tales of black men having giant cocks!"

"All the better for us then," laughed Sophie, "If it was true, I'd call that a bonus!"

I giggled, then added ruefully, "Anyway, I expect Paul's gone off me by now. But, just to satisfy you, I'll try again. And if he still wants me, he can have me."

Sophie advised, "Well just remember that once you get started, you mustn't expect him to stop halfway. You'll drive him crazy like that."

I nodded agreement. Then with a mischievous grin I added, "Believe it or not, Sophie, the thought of having his black cock in me has started to turn me on. So don't worry, if we do start shagging, I'll certainly let him go all the way."

"That's my girl! It won't do you any harm at all to let a black man like Paul fuck you. He'll love it and I'm sure you won't regret it," Sophie assured her friend.

"I'm beginning to be sure too. I'm actually looking forward to it!" I replied

Laughing together, we embraced as we went back to the living room.

Meanwhile Jim had joined Paul in the bathroom. Jim later told me about their conversation.

"What's the trouble with you, Paul?" Jim asked, "Don't you fancy that young Helen?"

"Yes, of course I fancy her. She's lovely, gorgeous! I get a hard on every time I look at her. The trouble is she doesn't seem to fancy me," Paul replied, "I tried copying you and Sophie but she keeps rejecting me. I don't think she wants to be fucked by any black man."

"I'm not surprised," Jim remarked, "Sophie and I are used to each other. I've shagged her a dozen times. You can't just copy us. You need to chat Helen up and win her over. Sophie reckons she's never been made to come yet and she's nearly twenty-one. That means she's never been properly shafted by a guy who knows what he's doing. I reckon that pretty young chick needs a damn good fuck as much as you do, but you must go about it the right way."

Paul was fiddling with the shower but Jim, observing the bulging front of his friend's underpants suggested, "I think you should get into the bath. Sophie is talking to Helen right now. They might come in and you don't want to frighten the girl off with that thing!"

Paul did as Jim had told him, adding some bubbly liquid to the running bath water and climbing in.

"I think she is against me because I'm black. Many white girls are," Paul remarked.

"Don't worry, Paul. Sophie can turn her round if anyone can. Remember that Helen needs you too, so take it easy. Relax and be yourself. Get her to talk about herself. All girls like to do that. And tell her a bit about your own life, so she thinks she knows you a little. If you play your cards right you could yet get that great black prick of yours up the delightful Helen's tight little cunt, you lucky dog!"

With that Jim came back to the living room just as Sophie handed me a glass of whisky and said "Take this into Paul now and remember what I said. After what's happened so far, you may have to make the first move too."

I finished off my own drink, took the glass and went to the bathroom door where I paused to take a deep breath.

"Don't knock, Helen. Go straight on in," Sophie encouraged me and Jim gave me a wink. When I went in, I saw that Paul was not in the shower but lying back in the bath. I carried his whisky over to him and held it out.

"I'm sorry..." I began.

"No! I'm the one to apologise," said Paul, "I felt a bit bedazzled by you and didn't know what to do. I just tried to take a lead from the other two but it didn't seem right, somehow. I'm sorry, Helen. I wish we could start off afresh. I feel a strong attraction for you but I don't know how to express myself properly and I suspected you weren't too keen on the colour of my skin."

"Perhaps, Paul, but I'm ready to try again if you are. Lets start by you leaning forward so I can wash your back," said I with a smile. I took off my watch, slipped off my shoes, and, sitting on the edge of the bath behind him, took the soap and covered his back with suds. I found I liked the smoothness of his black skin and the underlying muscles. I listened as he relaxed and told me about being brought up in Antigua, his schooling and how, after getting six "O" levels and three "A" levels, he was wanted to help support his family and so could not go to university. Unfortunately, the only job he could get in Britain was as a railway porter in Paddington. He had a girlfriend when he left home but she had given up on him and married his cousin.

"Perhaps you should become a nurse," I suggested, "I've only got two "A" levels." We talked some more about Paul's ambitions and I discovered that what Paul really wanted to do was to become a teacher,

He asked, "What about you, Helen, what do you want out of life?"

"What I want most of all," I replied, "is to meet and fall in love with a really nice man, settle down with him and have four or five children."

"A lovely girl like you should have no trouble with that," Paul asserted. Now was he secretly thinking he would like to be the man who gave me those children!

"I don't know, Paul. A lot of men have wanted to get me into bed and quite a few have succeeded too, but marriage and family frighten them off. None of my boyfriends seem to stay around very long."

I went on to tell Paul about my own childhood, schooling and family, including my two younger sisters. We went on chatting until I realised I was finishing Paul's back for about the fifth time.

I got up, came round to his front and started soaping his neck and chest. His hands were lying across his stomach. He was keeping his cock securely between his thighs, out of view. I was longing to see it. I was curious to see just how big it was.

"Put your hands behind your head now. I want to do under your arms," I ordered. He obeyed, letting me soap both sides until the soap seemed to slip from my wet hands and slither down his stomach into the water. It stayed ahead as my hand followed, almost as if a magnetic force was propelling it away from me. I reached down deeper, seeming not to care as the sleeve of my blouse dipped into the suds. My hand touched something like a broomstick rising from a forest. I took a deep breath, remembered my words to Sophie about giving myself to this man, and closed my fingers around his cock. I wanted to be cute and ask innocently, "What's this?" but all I could do was giggle. I realised I had reached the point of no return. And I exalted in his blackness. I wanted to break the taboo and get his cock inside me. I wanted to go wild on this beautiful black cock.

Paul had been momentarily embarrassed, but when he realised that I had not pulled my hand back, he began to enjoy the sensation of having a pretty girl's hand encouraging his erection. "Wow!" he exclaimed, astonished at his good luck. Eventually I managed to say it, "And what have I got here then?" laughing softly and ever so innocently.

"Go on with you, Helen, you know very well it's my cock," gasped Paul, chuckling in delight. I twisted round, dipped my other arm even deeper into the water to recover the soap from between Paul's leg and his balls. Then I said, looking round at him and smiling broadly, "What a lovely cock you've got; it's nice and big and stiff and even blacker than the rest of you! Would you like me to give it a wash?"

"Oh! Need you ask? Yes please, Helen," Paul croaked, almost speechless with pleasure. At that I started soaping and rubbing his cock using both hands, totally careless of the fact that the sleeves of my blouse were both getting soaked. Paul was ecstatic. What had he done to deserve this? With his right hand he undid the top two buttons of my blouse in order to fondle my left breast through my pretty bra.

"Ooh! I like that," I cried as the warm wetness soaked through to my breast, "I'm sorry my breasts are so small."

"Your tits may not be very big," agreed Paul, "but they are beautifully formed. I think they are delightful."

Then his left arm went round my waist and exerted a gentle pressure moving me toward him. There was no resistance, he increased the pressure slightly and I allowed myself to begin to slide into the bath. I ended up on Paul's lap, sitting in three or four inches of water. My knees were high and, as my skirt slid up a couple of inches showing my slip, I heard Paul murmur "My! You've got some pretty undies!"

"You can see more if you like," I told him, reaching for the hem of my skirt and pulling it down into the water, allowing Paul to view six inches of white satin and lace.

"It's lovely," was his comment. His right hand continued caressing my breast, while his left stroked the soft satin on my thigh a few times. Then it slid under the petticoat, moving ever so gently up the inside of my leg. I opened my legs slightly and held my breath as Paul's fingers crossed the welt of my stockings, softly trailing along my bare thigh and then over the satin of my knickers. I thrilled with the delicacy of his gentle touch. His middle finger pressed through the material against the lips of my vagina. I sighed with pleasure and gently squeezed his cock in return.

For a few minutes Paul and I continued our intimate caresses, until I began to feel impatient. I wanted his big black cock inside me. He needed his cock in me too!

Paul's grin vanished as I pulled myself up and stood momentarily with my wet back to him. I caught sight of his expression in a mirror.'What have I done or said wrong now,' his desperate thought was clearly written on his face. But as I swung round he saw with relief that I was starting to smile. I slowly unzipped my skirt and wriggled my hips to send it sliding into the water. Then, looking straight into Paul's wide brown eyes, I undid the remaining buttons on my blouse and let it fall from my shoulders to join the skirt. My smiled widened as I lifted the hem of my petticoat, slowly raising it to reveal the tops of my stockings, then my suspender straps and bare upper thighs and then finally my French knickers. I hooked a thumb round the waist elastic, pulling my knickers down as I lowered my petticoat. I left just enough of a gap between the two to give Paul a teasing glimpse of curly light brown hair between the tops of my legs.

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