Briana's Basic Nature Ch. 07

In the morning I awoke early as usual and did some things on computer and even got breakfast ready before Bree joined me in the kitchen. She had a look of relaxation and peace on her face. I know that when she's had it really good she tends to find her inner peace that way. It's a look like there isn't a thing in the world that can bother her.

"So, I hope this breakfast is to your liking, I know it's not like the breakfasts you've been having lately," I joked, referring to her morning blowjobs of the last two days.

"No, but this is good, too. I'm so hungry from all that ...exercise," she teased.

"Yes, you've definitely had a workout, for sure. You are sure you won't be hearing from him again?"

"Not really," she shrugged. "When I sucked him off in the car that last time he really pressed me to promise him I'd keep seeing him."

"I figured he would."

"Yes, me too. But I told him it was a fantasy of mine, the last two days, but I really didn't want to risk losing you."

"Aw, that's nice," I kidded, sarcastically.

"But you were right, he didn't want to take no for an answer, he said, "my cum is in your mouth, your totally wet panties are hanging from my mirror, can you honestly say you haven't enjoyed all this?"

I waited for her answer. She said that she told him, "Greg, of course I enjoyed it. I loved the fantasy, the dirtyness of all of it, that was the point. I'm just saying it needs to be very short term."

"What did he say to that?"

"He told me he didn't believe me. He said he really thinks I want to continue, but that I feel guilty. He said he thinks I'll reconsider."

"Will you?"

"It was one of the fantasies we talked about most lately. We both wanted to see it happen, and it did."

"That didn't really answer my question. I guess I'm asking that since it is such a big hot button thing for you, can you honestly say that you don't always want that? Or, at least more often?"

"I do want it. I want it more often, yes. It just doesn't have to be with him, you see? It can be anyone."

"Including me?"

She gave me a serious look, almost apologetic, and she said, "for that particular fantasy, no. " She saw my crestfallen look. "Let me say it this way. I love you. I love sex with you. I love when you take me rough, or tender and you have the best sexual mind I've ever met...not to mention a wonderful cock. But, that fantasy, the one of me being used by someone like Greg did...I think that naturally needs to be done by someone else. I know you, I trust you, when we play rough I always know I'm safe and loved. In that fantasy, part of what drives the lust in me for it, is that I'm being used for their pleasure, they do what they want. Part of the excitement is the uncertainty of it, not knowing how they'll use me. For sure, there's an element of danger, but I'm not looking to get killed or anything. I think I'm a good judge of people, plus, I always have you, knowing, as a safety net."

I actually understood what she meant. It's like me, I write erotic stories. It's far more exciting to read someone else's story, since I don't know the twists and turns it'll take, rather than read one I've already done, since I know where the story goes. She liked the uncertainty of the use.

"So then you DO want to continue it with Greg, based on that," I said.

"Not necessarily," she shrugged. "Honestly, I loved it, all of it. But, think about it, most of it WE set up. And, a lot of the things he ended up doing I basically had to tell him or at least lead him to. I don't want to have the control, I want the other person to have it. I want the other person's creativity, not just mine. I think it would be even more intense if it was someone that was able to do it naturally."

It actually comforted me that Greg wasn't a "natural," as she explained it.

"So, you are done with Greg then."

"Like I said, not necessarily. Occasionally he surprises me. I think inadvertently he hit upon another one of our fantasies...after I sucked him off and started to leave he mentioned he might just have to blackmail me to get me to continue our games..." she watched for my reaction.

Blackmail. It was a word that almost instantly got us aroused. We both love stories about it. It certainly was one of our favorites.

"Blackmail? How so? Did he say how he would do it?"

"Well, obviously he could just come out and tell you. But, I told him that he only had something to lose by doing it. I said if he ever tells you anything, that he could forget doing anything with me. I said, "I doubt it would break me and Devin up, but even if it did, I'll never let you touch me again. He backed off. However, you needed to know, just in case he ever weasels out and confronts you about it."

"Well, we could always deny it," I said.

"Um...probably not. Remember, he has pictures of your slut, in action."

"Oh, true. Then it really would be blackmail."

"Well, again. It's like a kid's version of it, yes. He could threaten to show the pictures to you, maybe try to call my bluff, but it's not really blackmail. You and I know it wouldn't affect our relationship at all. You already know. True blackmail would be if he really had something on me that I didn't want you to know. And, as far as I know, there's nothing I haven't told you," she laughed. "But, it will be interesting to see...you know...if he does try it. We'll have to decide what to do."

"So...if I'm understanding this right you really want this to continue, just maybe not with Greg. So how do we get to that? Do we just wait and hope someone comes along that fits your description?"

"I'm not sure, exactly," she said thoughtfully. "I've never done this before. Well, I had it with my ex, the sexual use part anyway. But I've never had that kind of relationship and have a boyfriend like you at the same time."

"Are you saying I'm in the way of you getting that?"

"No!" She protested. "I've just never had to deal with that, and the relationship with you. We just need to figure out how we want to continue, together."

"What would be ideal, for you, anyway, if the Greg thing isn't? I wondered.

"Well, I didn't exactly say that we shouldn't continue ANYTHING at all with him. I just said I'm sure there are other men out there who are more natural at it. I'm sure there are men who will use me in wicked and wonderful ways without me having to provide the direction. But, since we don't have that right now, maybe keeping him around for certain things might not be a bad idea. To answer your question though, I think ideally I'd like to find someone who will feel free to use me, without the emotional attachment. I don't need a lover. I already have you. I want a sexual user. I actually WANT someone who only wants me for wild sex."

"You'd think that wouldn't be difficult to find," I chuckled.

"But is IS," she whined. "Most guys talk a good game but in the end they get all girly and want to fall in love. I actually think Greg is like that. I think he actually cares about my feelings and would eventually "fall" for me and try to take me away from you."

"Probably, you really are great. I do see a problem ahead, though," I warned. "If you actually find that particular man, then what?"

"Why is that a problem?" She grinned.

"Because, if you truly find a guy who wants to use you sexually but doesn't care at all about you then he most certainly wouldn't care about me either. What's to say he won't call on you at all hours, keep you as long as he wants, etc."

"I still don't see the problem," she said with a sexy smile.

"The problem is ME," I huffed. "What if he wants to keep you overnight...or worse...what if he wants to take you on a vacation with him or something or...do something which comes to the attention of our friends."

"Ah, I see," she said softly. "You don't think you can stand that?"

"Well no, well...maybe...I don't know. It's just something we need to talk about, I guess," I said, flustered.

"Then let's talk. See...I guess I'm saying I really need that. What I'm talking about is more than a 48 hour thing. I want it more long term than that. Greg had barely gotten started. If he hadn't been so young and able to get it up repeatedly he'd barely have had time to use me. Someone needs to know that they can have me however they want, with time to recover, with time to plan creative, dirty things."

"So you are ok with that? You are ok with him taking you away for extended periods, doing, whatever...what if he is into pain? What if he hurts you? What if he wants to share you with others?"

"Limits. I have limits, as you know. He wouldn't be the guy for me if he didn't respect that. I will definitely make sure he knows that. As far as what he wants me to do for him...I don't want to say he can't share me," she said with an embarrassed peep.

It was obvious it was one of the things she wanted from the experience.

"Wow," I said. I was starting to feel fear, and dread. I knew what she was like, as I've said before, but now I wondered what all this could potentially lead to. Would we end up apart because of it?

"We both have needs," she explained. "You know mine probably more than I know yours. You know I need this. I guess I always have. I think my ex realized it even when I didn't. He just wasn't the kind of man I want to be with, long term. You are. You are kind, smart, creative, funny, sexy, AND you love me for who I am. This is who I am. If you were possessive and jealous at all, I don't think we'd still be together. I hope you aren't saying I have to choose."

"I'm not telling you to choose. Hell, I don't even know what I saying. I love what you've done so far. I love who you are. And, you know how hot all this has gotten me. I guess I just am saying this could get out of control and crazy and...I just don't want to lose you."

"Then let's stay together on this, we've been good together. As long as we are, we'll be ok."

We let it go for almost two weeks. We had sex often, mostly getting off to her thoughts and feelings of the things she did with Greg. I needed some time off but she seemed to get even more energized by recalling the recent memories. Finally, after a break of several days she came to me.

"Babe, I've got it bad," she purred. "I really want to do something bad."

The thoughts of the previous discussion surfaced immediately. "Did you find "that" guy?" I asked.

"No," she giggled. "Look, just because I have that particular need doesn't mean I don't want to do anything else. We DO need to hurry that along and find someone, but in the meantime can't we find some other fantasy to work on while I wait? I really want to get fucked, and good."

"By someone else, right?"

"Yessss," she cooed. "But shared together, so we both enjoy it."

We'd discussed pretty much everything. I think we knew the other's fantasies as well as our own at this point. I realized there was one that she'd mentioned frequently, earlier in our relationship, that we hadn't approached. I brought it up.

"You've always talked about having a black guy," I said. She knows I'm liberal. In the past she constantly teased me about fucking a black guy, just to "prove" how open minded I was. I found it odd that in all her past experiences, she'd never done it. Now honestly, I'm not a "BBC" guy, it isn't really a particular fantasy of my own, but just the fact that she hadn't done it made it more interesting to me. And, finding out recently that perhaps she has thought about it more than she let on made me think of making it happen.

"Oooh," she gasped. "Do you have someone in mind?"

I actually had a far darker, deeper fantasy of that in mind which was triggered by too many nights spent on internet porn. She loved humiliation, or public shame in some ways. This would certainly qualify.

"Not someone, in particular," I responded. "But some THING. That is, something I really want to see you do."

"Oooh," she repeated excitedly. "I like the sound of that. What is it?"

It was Friday night. No doubt that's why she approached me. She just always seemed to be hotter on the weekends, probably just because she knew it was usually our time for such games.

"I want you to pick out a nice skirt, short, obviously. I'm thinking of the plaid one."

She had a red, plaid skirt, suggestive of a schoolgirl, but not overly so. It was short, not quite a mini, but in bending or twisting one can often see just a hint of ass cheek. I told her to shower, get ready to go out, put on the skirt, some sexy matching shoes and that I'd be back in an hour.

She was quite intrigued and excited. She flitted off to get ready. I headed for the mall. It was an idea, borne of the internet. The funny thing was, it was mostly inspired by white wife/black cock websites, I'd actually stumbled upon them in Bree's own page "favorites." She'd saved more than a dozen pictures related to what I was heading out to get for her. I got to the mall and headed for the shop which provided tattoos, custom print jobs, airbrushing, that sort of thing. I was hoping it would be empty, luckily for me, it was. There was just a skinny, shaved head, tattooed, wife beater wearing 18 year old worker behind the counter.

I engaged in some quick, meaningless banter before I had the guts to lay it out to him. "I need a T-shirt made, custom lettering, airbrushed."

"That's cool, how many?"

"Just one..." I said, before reconsidering. "How much are they?"

"20 bucks per shirt, 3 for $50."

I actually hadn't decided on which slogan I wanted. I decided to get the three, then make her choose, which I knew would be wonderfully humiliating in itself.

The dude nearly flipped when I told him what I wanted. He looked at me like I was nuts. I'm sure I am, especially when things like this are considered. I had to walk around the mall nervously while he made them. An hour later I had the shirts in a bag and I was headed home.

Bree was still getting made up. I saw that she was getting all slutted up. Wonderfully sexy makeup, provocative lipstick, just how we both like it. When she came into the living room, she was wearing her skirt and some matching red heels. She was topless. She saw me grin.

"You didn't say what top to wear, silly."

"I know, I did that on purpose. You are actually going to wear something special tonight."

"What?" She squeaked with an embarrassed giddyness. "What do you want me to do tonight?" She asked submissively.

"Well, as you know. We've talked about this before. I want you to go out to Barklay's." It was a bar that had mostly black patrons. "I want you to find a black guy that excites you and I want you to give him your best. Think of it as a punishment for you denying an entire race for so long, or, as a reward for him, for being the one to finally break that streak."

She grinned, "Oh, I like that. But, you still didn't tell me what top to wear."

"I'm getting to that. You know all those websites you like?"

"Not really, I like so many," she giggled.

"True," I laughed. "No, I mean the ones specifically related to the black/white thing."

"Oh, yeah, but there are so many of those too," she grinned lewdly.

"Right, but I've seen your favorites, I've seen the pictures. There is a repeating theme in them. As such, I've picked three shirts for you to choose from. Each one is taken from one of your favorites. I showed her the first one.

On the front it had a large airbrushed picture of the Queen of Spades, from a deck of cards. It was obvious to her what that represented, SHE was the queen of spades, at least for tonight, since it was her duty to get some black cock. Her mouth fell completely open. It truly stunned her. I liked being able to do that to her, someone so experienced.

The second shirt said, "I heart (love) black cock."

That one made her shift nervously on her feet. The third one said, "Black cock slut."

Her eyes were ablaze with equal parts dread and anticipation.

"Choose one, and you'll wear that, along with that skirt out to the bar. You can wear the vest that matches that skirt."

The vest was red. It was small and meant to be sexy, it was made to allow her to show a lot of cleavage. In this case though, she'd have a T-shirt on underneath but enough of the wording would be revealed to make one wonder what the whole thing said.

She took the three shirts into the bedroom. Finally, she came out. One of the shirts more than peeked out from behind the vest. Her face was a beautiful shade of scarlet when she presented herself to me.

"So, you wear it all night, well, at least until it gets taken off of you, and the rule is that if anyone asks what it says you need to open the vest and let them read it."

"Oh fuck," she panted. She was horny, she wasn't fooling anyone. "I could get into SO much trouble in this," she said with a sexy grimace.

"And I'm sure you'd love that, too, wouldn't you?"

She just grinned coolly. I sent her off like that. "Text me when you can!" I yelled after her. She knows we both like that, as part of the whole tease.

I looked at the two shirts she'd left. "Queen of Spades," and "Black cock slut." So she was now going to a primarily black bar, dressed like a sexy slut, wearing a T-shirt that read, "I heart (love) black cock."

She texted me when she got there. "...I'm in the bathroom, just arrived. I just wanted you to know why I chose this shirt. The queen of spades was nice, I'm sure I'll wear that one soon but it probably wasn't embarrassing enough. I could easily play that one off like I didn't know what it meant."

"...the "Black cock slut," one was certainly humiliating enough, but truthfully, I'm an ALL cock slut, not just black. So, "I love black cock," just fit, because it's the right amount of humiliation as well as it is truthful. I love ALL cock, black included ."

"...the place is packed with black guys, honey. I think I'm trouble tonight : )"

I asked her if she wanted me to be "around" just in case. She texted "no" so quickly I knew what she wanted.

I found myself surfing porn while I waited for the night to unfold. I paid particular attention to Bree's "favorite" list, the more I saw and read, the more I knew she was going to really be into this.

She texted me an hour later. "Oh god, I'm trying so hard not to drink tonight, I want to feel everything. I've told the bartender to secretly make my drinks all non-alcoholic. I've had about 3 drinks bought for me already!"

"Did anyone ask to see your shirt?" I asked excitedly.

"Dirty boy! Of course they did! Every man that bought me a drink chatted me up and "made" me show him. Don't worry, it's exactly what you wanted, perverted man, it's going to happen just like you want it to."

Then, it was silent again for the longest time. I nearly convinced myself to orgasm as I looked at her saved black/white pictures, but somehow I managed to wait. It was another hour at least when I got the next message.

"My first black cock, yummy!" She wrote.

"What? Wow. What happened?"

"Um, some guy wanted "proof" that my shirt wasn't a lie. So he took me out back and I proved it. I proved it all the way down my throat to my tummy!"

"You sucked his cock?"

"I sucked his BLACK cock ," she wrote. "I think that bartender is feeding me some drinks that aren't watered down," she wrote. "I think maybe the rest of the guys at the bar are putting him up to it ."

"Are you coming home?"

"Um, not quite yet. Text you later!"

Wow. More silence. Now she had my head spinning. I knew she wanted it and wanted it good tonight. But, did I set her up for too much? Guess I was going to find out. More agonizing time passed.

She sent me another text, "I could get used to this taste."

She didn't respond to my texts for more information.

Finally, I got a text at near 1am. She wrote, "I'm coming home, put the car in the garage. Turn off the lights, I won't be alone."