Code-Switching Ch. 01

She did not care. Her legs were wrapped around him and his hands were all over her, holding her up with pure manly strength. Well, that and a hand that was holding her up and massaging her ass all at once, all while the owner of that hand kissed her with an unworried confidence that all was well and normal in the world.

**

She deftly hopped down just when he wanted her to, landing on the balls of her feet.

"Got your movie kiss after all, huh?"

"I did." Her face was an amazing shade of crimson that spoke of boundaries broken. But that face and the look in her eyes weren't going to do much to get his dick back to a level where he could walk six blocks home. And if he didn't get the feeling of that ass in his hand packed away quickly, they were going to need to grab an Uber.

"Well, least nobody got whistling at us or anything," he said finally, forcing a chuckle.

"Not sure I would have heard," she said. She tugged her dress down and slid an arm through his. "So..."

"So you forgot your bag," he said, nodding to the shapeless office-anchor sitting on the pavement next to her feet.

"So I did," she echoed.

They walked mostly in silence, switching from arm-in-arm to holding hands a block before his door. It was as if New York did not give a shit about Vaughn and Christina - which of course it didn't.

"Vaughn?" She said it in a near-whisper, barely audible above the traffic.

"Yeah?"

"There's something I should probably tell you before this goes a whole lot further."

"Yeah?"

"I've never...um...been with..."

"I know," he chuckled, squeezing your hand. "Body like a Black man's dream on you, and yet you've never actually given yourself what you want."

She squeezed his hand back. "Yeah. I mean, just, my background, my..."

"Promise me one thing, Tina."

"Yes?"

"Remember always that I'm a man. A human with feelings. Black, yes, but a man. Not just a dick, not just a disposable fetish for white women. I like you a lot, if you have not yet noticed. And that means you the woman, not just that body I cannot wait to get my hands all the fuck over."

"As long as you promise me the converse. This is the best first date I've ever been on, and I want you to know that. No joke."

He leaned down, spun her to him, and kissed her. She smelled like a spring rain, and her hair in his hands felt thick and heavy.

"Mmmm," she said. "So we're good?"

"Yes, Tina. We are good. Only one more block for you 'til we get down to business."

"Let's get a move on, then," she said, quickening her stride.

Vaughn nodded to his doorman, who pretended not to notice them, and headed for the elevator. He was already running through the next few minutes in his mind and what impact they would have on their relationship down the line.

She was looking up at him with those massive blue eyes as he pressed the elevator button.

"Not yet," he said, nodding to the camera in the corner.

She raised a middle finger to it, giggling. "Show me the way."

He did, with a gentle guiding hand on her ample booty, bunching the cotton dress in his palm.

She didn't flinch.

"I insist on giving you the house tour," he said as she stepped through the door.

"You insist on teasing me," she replied.

"Get used to it."

His hand never left her ass as they walked around the shockingly-large space, from a home office - complete with a floor-to-ceiling wall of bookshelves - to a room holding only a weight bench and a stationary bike to an open kitchen and living room. Recessed lighting, midcentury modern furniture, clean lines and large windows.

"This is amazing. Like, wow."

"Cost was amazing, too. Got it off some Russian dude who was using it as some combination of a tax dodge, money laundering, and passport fraud. I didn't ask too many questions about shit like why he'd knocked out the wall between the two bathrooms and only one had a toilet, and he didn't ask too many questions about price given that I could do cash and close in the ten days before he needed to get the fuck out."

"Low key brag on the bank account there, sir. Well done." She was staring out at the city below them.

"Nightcap?" His hand slid further along her waist, settling on the other side of her ass. "Something light like a coffee with some liqueur?"

"Can you do decaf, please?"

"I can. And you can enjoy that view while I make it."

Vaughn stole a peek or two at the woman now walking the length of the wall. Watched her pause at the corner and run her hand over his furniture. He could almost see her thoughts, installing herself here and seeing how it felt.

He pulled fistful of liquor bottles from the cabinet.

"Coffee's ready. Would you like to do the mixing? First date safety and all?"

She glanced over her shoulder, and it damn near stopped time in his mind. The flash of blue eyes, the blue dress, and the dim glow of the recessed lighting above the island were all that he took in. The dress swished around her with a quick spin, flashing a whirl of pale thighs.

They stood on opposite sides of the black granite island, two mugs and three bottles in front of them.

"Hmm," she said. A grin spread across her face. "Well, let's do this. I'll make your drink, then you make mine."

"I like the way you think."

"In that case," she said, twisting open a fifth of Jameson. "For you: black coffee, with a strong undercurrent of power and a sophisticated flavor." She splashed in a generous shot. "Served hot. Now me?"

He opened the second and third bottles. "And for you, I'm adding Kahlua and Bailey's. All business on the surface, but underneath there's the twisting flavors of coffee and Irish cream liqueurs. Maybe a little more of that coffee flavor than you're used to."

"Cheers," she said. "To a man who gets to know the finer things in life."

"And to a lady who has a way with words," he responded.

**

Christina spun rapidly, dodging the kiss she knew would be coming across the wide kitchen island. She had something else in mind. She lifted the mug to her lips and paced across the room, knowing he'd follow.

And then it happened.

She tripped over the leg of a chair.

"Shit!"

She managed to catch herself on the couch, but it was too late. Coffee had splashed on her neck and down the front of her dress. Her chin smelled mildly alcoholic, and a huge stain was spreading across her chest.

He was on her immediately, holding her arm while holding back a laugh.

"Your first misstep all night, Esquire."

Christina blinked. She couldn't cry. He clearly wasn't mad. But she'd just ruined the mood. She blinked again.

She flashed him that over-the-shoulder look that she'd seen hit the mark earlier and winked.

"Let's call that a lemon." Her hands went to the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head in a single smooth motion. "Call this lemonade."

He wasn't stifling a laugh now. She felt the half-empty mug removed from one hand as a powerful arm encircled her from behind.

"Damn fine lemonade," his voice whispered in her ear.

Her legs followed his lead, pausing to let him slide onto the couch before she straddled him. Her fingers worked furiously to unbutton his shirt while her lips found his.

"Mmmm," she moaned. "Mmmmm." His muscles were even more apparent with the shirt in a pile next to him and only a thin undershirt between her hands and them. "That, too. Needs to go, please."

He peeled it off, and her mind registered the dark swirls of tattoos covering both his arms. She moaned again and traced them with her fingers as he pulled her back in for another kiss.

She couldn't stop kissing him. Didn't want to, not now, not ever. The angel on one shoulder came back with one word: Slut. Christina backhanded her away and let the devil whisper into her other ear: You're straddling a muscular, handsome, tattooed black man, Christina. You know what comes next.

"May I?" She reached for his belt, not waiting for an answer.

"Crossing the Rubicon, Esquire?"

She undid it and tugged. "That's Tina to you, baby."

"Mmmm," he said.

She let him to do the wiggle work of sliding the slacks over his well-muscled lower half. Her hands had better places to be, anyway.

She traced the thin fabric of his boxers and then wrapped her hand around the rock-hard cock underneath.

"Holy hell," she giggled. "I mean..."

"Words, Tina." He kissed her deeply while she got accustomed to the size of the thing in her hand.

Or tried to get accustomed. It wasn't big. Big would be an understatement. It was massive, nearly as thick as her wrist and long enough that she didn't even want to guess. There was no way Plan A was going to work. Zero chance - zero - that this was fitting in her mouth.

So she slowly began to stroke it as his mouth devoured hers, then moved down to her neck and her collarbone.

She let his tongue trace her neck muscles, coming back upward to her jaw.

Somewhere she heard herself gasp when he nibbled her earlobe. He moaned as her hand delicately peeled back the last inch of boxers and traced the thick head atop his shaft.

The devil on her shoulder grinned.

Christina's hands darted upward, releasing her hair and letting it fall to where it grazed her shoulders. Deft fingers unhooked her bra, and her new lover let it slide between them. Cool air swept her bare nipples.

"Damn, girl," Vaughn said to her in a half-growl. "How you hide those in a dress like that?"

Christina held up her 34Cs in each hand, giving them a quick bounce.

"You like?"

He responded by closing his mouth on her left breast, thick fingers tweaking the opposite nipple. Christina's body tensed, then relaxed, as she took in the visual: strong dark flesh on her snow-pale breasts and light pink nipples.

A moan escaped her and she steadied herself on his thighs. Her body was in overdrive, breath already becoming ragged under his touch.

Her mind raced. But below it all was a thumping mantra: there's a huge black dick with literally two layers of flimsy fabric between it and your soaking wet pussy. And the night ain't getting any younger.

**

Vaughn had other ideas.

"Three things," he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her pale form. "First, I think we were gonna have drinks before we fucked." He began to slide her from his lap and to a seated position.

"Second?"

"Second, got a house rule here. No fuckin' boyshorts on an ass that fine. By the time I'm back, those best be on the floor. Or the coffee table or the couch. Pretty much anywhere you can dream of, long as I ain't ever see them on that ass another second tonight. Good?"

"Good."

He didn't doubt that they'd be gone when he turned back with two mugs. But he took his time anyway, sipping from the darker mug and enjoying the sharp Jameson underneath.

"Third?" Her voice was steady. She was sitting on the sofa, legs primly crossed and back straight, shoulders back, hands at her sides. It might have made a different impression had she not been nude, her teardrop-shaped tits showing a nice gap between.

"Third isn't the sexy part, but gotta be done. I'm clean and tested. You?"

She smiled, hand running through her thick tresses. "Also clean. And I have an IUD, so..."

"So we have an agreement?"

Christina's eyes locked on his.

"We have an agreement."

"Head back," he said, taking a long draw on his drink. It wasn't too hot anymore for what he had in mind.

He watched her eyes close and face turn to the ceiling.

"Thighs, Tina."

She uncrossed them, spreading her knees to reveal smooth thighs and shaved lips, with a small thatch of light-brown hair above. Even from six feet away, the slickness between her legs was obvious.

He let his index finger trace her from top down. Throat to collarbone; collarbone to sternum; sternum to breasts; breasts to stiffening nipples. He flicked each with his tongue, savoring the gasps that followed.

Her pale skin shone in the dim light as he switched to his lips, kissing his way down her stomach and to just where her panties would have stopped.

"This shouldn't be unpleasant, but I assume it'll be new, and you may want to watch."

Christina's eyes met his. She didn't ask what he was about to do.

He swished the coffee in his mug and placed it against her chest, brushing one nipple and then the other with the warm mug, then placing it above the gap between her breasts and tilting it slightly.

"Yes?" he said.

She nodded.

He slowly poured the liquid down her body, his mouth positioned on her stomach to slurp it up when it had run its course.

She exhaled involuntarily as the first drops hit her, muscles tensing under his chin. They flowed smoothly down the soft skin, followed by the steady rivulet.

Vaughn let his tongue do the work, tasting the sharpness of coffee and whiskey, but paying the most attention to the new note in it: Christina. Even with as a subtle inclusion, her taste was there.

As he poured with his right hand, his left slid between her legs, finding the wetness and probing it softly. Her hips immediately shifted forward. Vaughn understood: More. She wanted more.

She squealed with pleasure as his finger slid inside her.

**

The devil on Christina's shoulder was back, and she was having a hell of a good time.

Good girl, the devil was saying. First date with a black guy. First kiss, first lotsa shit. And now you have his finger inside you. Just you wait, bitch.

Christina moaned. Vaughn's lips were against hers now, his hand firmly settled in her crotch. Expertly sliding into her, his palm stimulating her clit.

She felt pleasure building within her, a tightness that was coming far too soon. No, she couldn't let it happen this fast. She was all too aware of the wet spot on the cushion below her, but an orgasm after being fingered for thirty seconds was too much.

She raised a finger to his lips, blocking the kiss.

"My turn," she said. "Don't we both have to finish our drinks?"

His lips parted to a half-smile. "We do," he replied.

"Good. Then hand me that other mug and sit where I'm sitting."

She watched his powerful body unfold itself and stand, blocking one of the overhead lights. For a second his scent remained, and she realized it was because it was now on her too.

Her devil spoke again: Bitch, that man should definitely not be wearing boxers. What the fuck is wrong with you, sweetie?

She slowly stood, fighting a brief dizziness.

"Vaughn?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Would you be so kind as to remove that underwear? I do like a nice red wine color on you, but I think it's time I got to know all of you in person, hmmm?"

He stared into her eyes. "I think a lady's first experience should be self-exploration. So, please."

He sat on the couch in front of her as she knelt between his knees. Her mind caught at how easy it felt, how instantly natural. Something clicked in her hormone-addled brain: she wanted to be between these knees. She needed to be between these knees.

She watched her hands in slow motion. Delicate fingers running up his dark thighs, feeling the muscles and wiry hair, then the fabric of the boxers. The same fingers tracing the outline of his cock and then hooking his waistband, sliding it down.

The thick shaft sprung free and upwards, and it sat just in front of her face.

Her devil spoke again: Honey, now that is a penis. Forget what you thought you knew. That is what a real man has.

Christina leaned forward, letting her hand encircle the base. Her fingers fit around it, but just barely, thumb grazing the fingers coming around the far side.

She stroked it gently. It was heavy. Heavy was not something she'd ever associated with a dick before. But this thing was heavy, and the set of balls resting on the cushion were every bit its equal.

Her eyes traveled up Vaughn's body, taking in his muscular torso and tensed face. His closed eyes, his close-trimmed hair. He was a beautiful man, with a beautiful penis, and she wanted every inch of all of him for herself.

She took a deep breath and gave silent thanks to the devil on her shoulder. Then she kissed his cock.

It started with a quick peck on the exposed head, but she immediately dipped and ran her tongue straight from the base all the way up the wide shaft and over the ridge to the opening at the very tip. It felt like it had taken five minutes to make the journey. Every vein, every tiny ridge under the skin made its impression on Christina's mind.

Vaughn groaned. It was a pure pleasure noise, an unarticulated expression of primordial pleasure.

She repeated the process, her hand moving ahead of her tongue. His hand settled in her hair. She let him tousle it gently as she served him. She wanted to bottle the salty-sweet taste of his flesh.

Instead she stopped.

His eyes opened.

She twisted her torso. On the coffee table was the second mug. Her mug. She felt it and took a tiny sip.

"Cheers," she said, raising it to him.

"Cheers." He sounded different now. Deeper, more guttural, with a hint of a rasp. The kind of voice that women turn around in line at Starbucks just to hear who owns that absolutely fuckable voice.

She chugged what remained of her drink. Grinned. Grinned wider at the approval she saw etch itself across his face.

"What, you thought I was going to pour it down your body?"

"I did."

She clambered to her feet and slowly settled onto his lap. Their lips were inches apart, the rest of their bodies less. She felt his erect cock against her stomach, flattening her public hair in a push for its own needed space.

"Well, I finished my drink," she said.

The kiss that followed was hungry, and the hands were rough and unrestricted. One large palm handled each asscheek, squeezing and kneading before giving the right side of her booty a light slap.

"God, yes," she said. "One more."

He obliged. A quick smack onto the left side matched the sting on the other side.

"Two more," she said. "Please."

They landed, and Christina was in heaven. A man with hands like that who wanted to slap her backside with just the right amount of force? Yes please. She'd have fucked him for that alone.

"Honey," she let out in a light drawl while stroking his cock slowly, "Am I gonna need, like, a new vagina after this?"

He smiled the same Vaughn Ashford half-smile.

"Nah, I think you'll be quite happy with the one ya got."

She leaned into his ear and whispered.

"Show me."

Christina's hips rose to make room for his length to slide underneath her. The wide head brushed her bush and then slid along her slit, swiping up lubrication as it went. For a moment, she felt paralyzed, hovering half-standing before she fulfilled a fantasy that had been blowing her mind for longer than she wanted to admit.

"Slow, okay?"

He nodded.

"At first," she added.

She bit her lip and began to lower herself.

"God, damn, fuck, fuck," she said. Her eyes slammed closed as the head entered her, stretching her to a width she had never before experienced. It took the air from her.

"Yessss," she hissed. His strong hands gripped her hips, supporting her slow descent into the unknown. Each careful stroke brought more depth: a half-inch here, an inch there.

Christina planted her hands on Vaughn's chest, letting him guide her. Her lips found her partner's again, desperately trying to match the pleasure coming from between her legs.

Her devil whispered to her again: That's it, honey. Your first black cock. Your first huge, sexy black dick. Just a few more inches until you can truly say you've done it.

Christina grunted as Vaughn eased her lower. It felt like she was about to split open now. She was certain no man had ever been this deep inside her, and none had been this thick either. But something else was rumbling in her as well.