Jessie Palmer Ch. 04

This story is based on interracial lesbian seduction, reluctance and coercion (although there is a sprinkling of MF sex).

The thoughts of a white women being seduced by a black woman is a long held fantasy of mine, but if this type of storyline is not for you, thank you for stopping by but please pass on without feeling the need to leave a derogatory comment.

Chapter Four — Claire broadens her horizons

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It had happened. It had actually happened.

In the same day that Claire had gone down on her first woman, she had also allowed herself to be fucked by a black stud. Despite the sweeping waves of guilt afterwards, the sex with Leroy was a hundred times more fulfilling than in even her wildest masturbatory fantasies.

He was bigger than most men she'd ever been with, that was for sure. In all the sexual encounters she'd ever experienced, she'd learnt that the axiom 'size does matter' was a self evident truth. Had she ever doubted it, Leroy's dick would have restored her faith.

His cock had hit places inside her hitherto untouched.

His attitude had been the polar opposite to her previous sexual encounters, too. Most of her previous lovers had been considerate. Leroy just took what he wanted.

As soon as he'd fucked her against the kitchen island, he had twisted her around and pushed her face down onto the cold surface, roughly yanked her legs apart and then rammed that monster of his inside her again.

She had instantly screamed out yet another orgasm.

That was something else. Until yesterday, she had never thought of herself as especially noisy during sex. Come to think of it, she was probably at her loudest with her favourite vibe inside her. Sex with Leroy had changed all that. With his hand in her hair, yanking her head back as he pounded her from behind, she was screaming out swearwords she wasn't even aware she knew.

Leroy was noisy, too, although in his case it was to tell her what a slut she was, that he owned her now she was one of Olivia's girls, and that he would both look after her interests and fuck her any time he wanted.

Even though Claire knew this would all end inside the next forty-eight hours, when she presented Donald Moseley with her story, she had both hated and loved his words. No-one had ever spoken to her in that way before.

It had been so hot.

When, eventually, it had become too much for even an arrogant black stud like him, he had pulled out just before he came and grabbed her hair again. Pulling her face towards his juice-covered cock, he held her there while he sprayed his thick juice all over her face, neck and tits.

"Rub it in," he'd told her with a condescending laugh. "It's good for your skin."

After it was over, he had made a phone call in the other room while she cleaned herself up in the bathroom. Her whole body was sore and she knew she should feel guilty. But she didn't. Later, yes, but not immediately. The whole experience just felt surreal.

When she returned from the bathroom Leroy was pacing back and forward while he talked on his mobile phone. Another joint hung loosely from his lips. Claire's head was still a little woozy from her previous intake and she wondered whether the smoke she had inhaled earlier had added to the uninhibited way she'd let him fuck her.

What had Precious said? "Fucking on marijuana is like nothing else."

She could see Leroy through the open door as he'd continued his phone conversation and the sight of his manhood swinging between his legs had instantly registered a further response between her thighs. She'd never liked conceited, overconfident guys before, but she had been practically gagging for Leroy to fuck her again.

He had. This time against the wall.

Then, out of the blue, just as he was leaving, he told her that Olivia wanted to meet her. Her stomach had done somersaults. That could be the final piece of the jigsaw for her story, the piece that formed the whole picture.

Leroy told her she should feel privileged. Olivia usually let him look after the girls. She preferred to stay at arm's length and only became involved when something or someone special came along.

Then Leroy told her that she was special. He'd known it from the first time they'd met. That's why Olivia wanted to meet her.

As ridiculous as it was, Claire had almost cried infront of him. No-one had said she was special before. All her life she'd fought for what she had, maybe that was why the desire to prove herself in the newspaper industry was so great. To show the world she had it in her.

On reflection, she realised it wasn't just Leroy's words that had her choking back the tears. It was the absurdity of the situation. These circumstances were as unusual as anyone could find, and yet it had taken a black pimp who'd just fucked her brains out to make her feel good about herself.

When she'd asked Leroy when she could meet Olivia, he'd given her one of his cocky smiles.

"When she's ready," he'd told her, squeezing her ass. "When she's ready..."

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"Olivia?" Precious repeated. Her dark eyes suddenly went wide in mock horror. "You'd better be careful, honey. She eats little white girls like you for breakfast."

Claire just stared at her. She was back in Precious's apartment and had waited until they'd made love before casually mentioning her proposed meeting with Olivia.

"But then," Precious mischievously added, kissing her neck. "My little white girl likes being eaten by a black woman, doesn't she?"

Claire put a hand over her mouth and then they both burst out laughing.

It occurred to her that while she had only known Precious for a couple of days, it was remarkable how much at ease she felt in the girl's company.

"Okay," Precious added, nodding towards the bowl of water and some shaving implements sitting on the small stool beside the swivel chair. "It's time."

They had talked about Claire's dark landing strip and Precious had told her it was the one thing the girls weren't allowed. Olivia wanted her escorts clean shaved.

"Sorry honey," she'd said to her, "but if you're going to be one of us, it has to go."

Claire began to blush again as Precious batted her eyelashes at her. It was ridiculous, she knew, but despite their afternoon of uninhibited sex, having this girl shave her—any girl shave her—was extremely intimate.

She had told herself that she'd called Precious and arranged to meet her again simply to gain some advance information about Olivia. It wasn't the truth. Not the whole truth. She could pretend as much as she liked, but deep down she couldn't fool herself.

She'd wanted sex with her again ... to taste that black pussy again. Was there a more satisfying feeling in the world than pleasuring a black woman? As much as she was beginning to crave Leroy's cock, going down on Precious pressed every single one of her buttons.

"I like my look," she slowly said, more as a delaying tactic than anything else.

Could she really allow Precious to do this?

"You look hot, honey," the girl convincingly murmured, her fingers gently caressing the small of the reporter's back. "But you'll look even hotter afterwards."

Claire swallowed hard. The lines between the investigation and her 'cover' were becoming more and more blurred with each passing day. She was starting to become so comfortable in this new world that she had to remind herself she had a story to write.

"Okay, let's do it," she said, making the decision. Her gaze swung away from Precious to the shaving implements. "Yes, let's do it."

"Then let's get it on," Precious answered, clapping her hands happily.

She gave one of her deep, throaty laughs that made Claire's spine tingle.

She felt the lick of heat start between her thighs and then circle her body as Precious gently guided her towards the swivel chair. As embarrassing as this was, there was no denying the warmth that was growing between her legs.

"Nervous, Jessie?" Precious asked.

Claire nodded, averting her eyes as she heard that throaty laugh again.

"Then let's ease those tensions," she said, holding up a joint and lighting it infront of Claire.

She instantly took a few pulls herself and then held the joint between two fingers as she dangled it in front of the reporter's face. But when Claire nervously reached for it, Precious giggled as she teasingly pulled it away.

"I have a better idea, honey," she said.

Taking a large drag first, she moved her mouth towards Claire. As their lips met, she sexily passed the sweet smoke from her mouth to the unsuspecting woman's. The action was so unexpected and the sensations so hot that Claire instantly felt a surge of arousal consume her body.

"Feel better?" Precious asked.

Claire nodded. She did. Instantly. Much better.

Precious chuckled softly in response, handing the joint to the reporter as she pulled the small stool to the swivel chair and eased her naked body down onto it.

Claire immediately took another toke. It was remarkable how comfortable she now felt with a marijuana joint, even if her natural instincts still made it feel a wicked thing to do. And there wasn't any doubt that the warm, floating effect that always washed over her with each intake further enhanced her now constant state of arousal.

"Okay, spread 'em..."

Precious's words hit Claire between the thighs and then the young black girl was laughing out loud.

"You should see your face, Jessie. So innocent. So sexy..."

Her hands slid along Claire's naked thighs and gently eased them apart.

"Just go with the flow," she breathed. "This is like nothing you've ever experienced."

Pin-pricks of heat danced across Claire's scalp at the words. She was in over her head. Drowning. What was she doing here? Like this? A few days ago she would never have believed that anything like this could happen.

But it was...

For a few seconds, Precious gently glided her fingertips back and forward, as if allowing the heat to build inside Claire's body. Satisfied, she picked up the warm cloth and began to apply just the right pressure in the right places. It clearly wasn't the first time she'd done this.

"Hey, there, Jessie," she grinned upwards, as Claire began to squirm. "You've got to sit still..."

The reporter forced herself to breath and then took another drag on the joint, hoping it would calm her. Yes. That felt better.

Precious smiled up at her as she applied some shaving cream to the brush.

"Some for me, honey?" she asked.

Claire got the meaning immediately. She took a long toke and then leaned forward so that she and Precious could kiss again. As the smoke passed from one mouth to the other, she knew with a certainty that as soon as Precious had finished her work, she was going to fuck her again.

Her need to taste that black pussy was consuming her.

Precious took her time lathering the reporter's mound. Her movements were slow and sensual, carrying out the task in hand but clearly intent on heightening Claire's arousal at the same time. Working her up...

The reporter tensed as Precious picked up the razor, but Precious soon proved that such nervousness was unwarranted. The girl's expertise was there to see, and after each stroke her fingers gently touched, rubbed and caressed the newly shaven parts.

"That looks so fucking inviting," she suddenly said, roughly pushing Claire's legs even further apart and parting the reporter's labia with her index finger.

She raised it to her mouth, sucking gently, before repeating the action. Once, twice, three times.

The lustful look that had appeared in her eyes screamed out that the process was getting to her, too.

"Tastes real good, Jessie," she whispered, her voice almost cracking with intensity. "I'm almost finished. Then I'll give you what you want. Okay?"

Claire could barely breathe. The sexual tension filling the air between them was crackling like electricity.

She sat stock still as Precious made two more passes, one up, one down, and then she was done. Picking up the wet cloth, she made a show of cleaning the residue of shaving cream from Claire's now smooth mound, and then replaced the cloth with her fingers.

Claire's slender body began to rise and fall with the heat of the moment as the fingers traced a soft pattern across her milky-white flesh. Her swollen lips were small and tight, like the rest of her body, blossoming open around her clit just enough to hint at the slicker pink inside.

"Tell me what you want," Precious asked, reaching a hand upwards and offering her thumb to the reporter.

She pushed it between Claire's soft lips, working it around the inside of her mouth and across her gums.

"Suck on it, honey," she told her.

Claire shuddered with desire as she took the thumb deep inside her mouth, bathing it with saliva. Her tongue flicked around it, loving its hardness, and then her lips began to gently move as if sucking on it as if it was a cock.

Leroy's cock?

"That's it, Jessie," Precious breathed, reaching for the shaving lotion with her free hand.

She began to caress the white balm into the newly shaved area, bringing a groan from the reporter. Then Claire was arching herself up off the chair, trying to connect her wet sex to the caressing fingers.

"So hot," Precious whispered hoarsely, tilting her head.

She worked two fingers inside Claire's wonderfully tight pussy as she spoke. When the pad of her thumb brushed her sensitive clit, Claire whimpered out her need.

"I know," Precious murmured, dipping her head to suck on one nipple and then the other.

Her fingers moved faster. Her thumb flicked harder.

"Give it to me, Jessie," she told her, as Claire began to groan. "Cum for Precious. Now..."

The reporter's orgasm detonated instantly, her knuckles turning white as her hands gripped the edges of the chair.

Precious kept her fingers inside her until the orgasmic tremors began to subside, and then slowly rose from her stool. She stepped across Claire's slumped body, her black pussy inches from the white girl's lips.

Sliding both hands to her sex, she lewdly opened her engorged folds wider with her fingers.

"This is what you want, yes?" she breathed. "Come feed..."

TWENTY FOUR HOURS LATER

Claire stood infront of Donald Moseley's desk, hands behind her back and fingers entwined, like a naughty schoolgirl who was waiting to hear her fate.

Perhaps it was her natural insecurity, but her fear of having the investigation—and therefore the story—taken away from her remained just as strong. That was why she was keeping her potential meeting with Olivia to herself. If she was able to make the contact, she would draw her conclusions and inform the editor at that time.

Until then, she had presented him with her draft of the story as he'd requested during their meeting in the café. It was good, very good. She knew it was. And yet from the impassive expression on Moseley's face as he glanced at the article for the umpteenth time and then back at her, she couldn't work out what his reaction was.

Eventually, he removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and then sat forward in his chair.

"You know what this is?" he asked.

He tapped the article with his index finger as it lay on his desk infront of him.

It's crap. She knew that was what he was going to tell her. She'd seen that look in his eyes before when he'd taken a reporter to task. It was a look that said he was going to eat you up and then spit you out.

"Well?" he asked, dropping his glasses on top of the article. "You know what this is?"

"It's the first draft of my story," she said, not willing to take him on, but not intending to back away either. "I know it's not the finished article. Maybe it needs polishing. And I'm still following up some leads. But—"

The words dried up as her confidence ebbed away. She thought she'd hit the nail on the head with the draft. Okay, there wasn't a single reference to any of the participants, but she had brought the article alive by making sure that illicit sex dripped from every paragraph.

All the ingredients were there—interracial lesbian sex, the potential involvement of 'prominent' figures, young teenage white girls being lured into a life as escorts...

She nervously moved from one foot to the other and bit her bottom lip as she waited for his response. If he took her off the story and handed it to Thompson and Baines, she would hand in her resignation there and then.

Moseley sat back in his chair, picking up the article as he stretched out and placed both feet on his desk.

"As you're so tongue-tied, I'll tell you exactly what it is," he said, making her shudder.

Oh Shit. Here we go...

"It's fuckin' brilliant," he boomed happily, rapping the palm of his hand on the desk for added emphasis. "Fuckin' brilliant..."

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The white wine slid deliciously down Claire's throat. She adored moments like this, soaking in her round bath with a chilled glass of Chablis, and small candles circling the bathtub. It felt decadent somehow.

Tonight, it was a celebration.

She had been walking on air when she'd left Donald Moseley's office. He'd been thinking further about the article and decided he wasn't going to print it in the daily editions. He intended to feature it as the lead story inside the prestigious Sunday supplement instead!

For a junior reporter like Claire, such a thing was unheard of.

But then she was no longer a junior reporter. He'd told her he intended to upgrade her instantly to the highly sought after Investigative Reporter status, and she would jump up three pay grades in the process. Three!

Okay, it was probationary. But that wasn't a problem. After she'd finalised her investigations she would be able to present him with a series of articles on the subject. The story would run and run, and if she could specifically tie Melissa Rhodes to the investigation, the sky was the limit.

She had rested her watch on the side of the tub beside her and glanced at the time. She had another hour to spare. The request to meet Olivia tonight had arrived out of the blue. But she intended to make the most of it.

She couldn't afford any more subtleties. Her plan was to confront Olivia with everything she knew and ask her to comment. If she refused, Claire could tell her she was going to print anyway. It was in Olivia's interests to give her what she wanted, in exchange for a promise to keep her name out of it.

The only downside was that it would probably spell the end of her friendship with Precious. She hoped not. She'd never find a better lover than the young girl, and the thought of their relationship ending made her stomach curl. If she explained everything to her, maybe there was a way for the two of them to stay in touch?

Then there was Leroy. As strange as it was, Claire wanted to see him again, if only for the sex. She would never have thought it possible, but his arrogant attitude and one dimensional approach was a huge turn on for her. Not to mention the size of his black cock...

The recollection of the way he'd pounded her made her body shiver, despite the warmth of the bath.

No. She was being stupid, letting her imagination and her cravings run away with her again. Once she had exposed the prostitution operations, she had to draw a line under everything that had happened and keep her contacts at arm's length. If Moseley ever got wind of what she'd done, how she had compromised herself, she could forget about her promotion. He'd throw her out on her ear.

Replacing her glass of wine on the edge of the tub, she closed her eyes and thought of Precious again. That girl was amazing. Her hand slid downwards, across her flat stomach and down into the juncture between her legs as the images formed behind her closed eyelids.