Michael Jackson Masquerade Surprise

No doubt, an understatement, her face confessed that her Daddy hated white people and she feared for their safety, should they become a couple. She lived in a neighborhood where the only white folk were police, firemen, and EMT's. There was an assumed sign surrounding the perimeter of where she lived. Trespassers beware because, if you ain't black, you're white ass ain't comin' back.

"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" He gave her a big, Cheshire cat smile and wink.

"Say what?" As if he had just insulted her, she took a step back, put a hand on her hip, and flipped up her pretty head to glare at him. Her big, ebony eyes that sparkled in the dim light like precious jewels before, now stared at him, as if they were shark eyes and he was dinner. "What do you mean by that remark?" Even though she wanted to, she controlled herself from calling him a derogatory name.

"Shouldn't it be my family that disowns me, if I was to date a black woman?"

"I can't believe you're saying that to my face," she gave him a look that transcended Abraham Lincoln, the Civil War, slavery, apartheid, and Africa and moved her head, as if she was a bobble head doll. "I'll have you know that I'm a college graduate with a successful career in real estate," she said laughing, when he suddenly started to laugh, too.

Finally, after stumbling, he had found the switch that illuminated him in a different light with her, a colorless glow devoid of race that only showed a man and a woman enjoying one another's company at a costume Halloween party. It was then that she realized he was playing with her to get her to relax and it worked. She liked him. She really did, even if he was white.

Without doubt and without exception, he was the coolest Caucasian man she's ever met. She could imagine herself getting with him, if it wasn't for that fact that she'd have milk chocolate and, perhaps, white chocolate babies, instead of dark chocolate ones. Still, one who loves chocolate, no matter what the color, she was warming to his vanilla flavor and it wasn't until his next move that she melted.

"Damn, woman, you're so hot when you're mad," he said with a laugh, before looking at her with a softness in his eyes that told her that he was sincere. "Isn't this ridiculous? What color we are has nothing to do with who we are inside and how we feel about one another," he said taking her hand, as if asking her to dance or to marry him. "It's been a long while, since I've felt the excitement that I have for a woman, as I'm now feeling for you. We should see where this goes and give us a chance at love. Just because I'm white and you're black, shouldn't make a difference in the equation, when it comes to falling in love."

"Have you dated a black woman before?"

She suddenly had a vision of a hooker giving him a blowjob in a back alley or him putting a dollar in the G-string of a black stripper, before patting her ass and hoping for a lap dance later. Without regard to who he was, just as too many white people treat her because she's black, she automatically discounted him because he was white. She figured he just wanted to get some black pussy, a color, he's never experienced before and knowing the sex kitten she was, she couldn't blame him for that. She'd rock his world. Oh, yeah, once going black, he'd never go back to those white skinny hoes.

"No, you'd be my first, but I dated an Asian woman."

Asian? Say what? Ain't no little, yellow, rice eating woman as good as a big, barbeque eating, black mamma, she thought to herself.

"Even though you're right about the color on the outside not making a difference, I'm sorry. I still can't date you," she said this time with worn conviction, more indecision, and some inner reflection, while hoping he'd be the type who wouldn't take no for an answer.

What would Martin Luther King, her secret adviser, do, she thought? He'd march, while thinking of his next speech. He'd say white, black, red, or yellow, we're all the same inside. It's the effects of life that have changed us to hate one another and now looking at him for who he was, when not hiding behind a Michael Jackson Halloween mask, she could love him.

"Why not?"

Why not? Beaten to a red, bloody pulp, before being stabbed and shot, she imagined the police finding his unidentified, dead body in the alley behind her house. She imagined the police questioning her brothers and her father, as suspects, in his murder. We don't know nothing, she imagined her brothers and father telling the police. We were in church praying for you honky ass souls for being the bigots that you are for rousting peace loving, innocent, black citizens.

"My brothers would kick your ass and then kill you or they might kill you first and then kick your ass. They don't like white people either."

She laughed to herself over the imagined thought of introducing Anthony, Mister White to her brothers, Tyrone and Leroy, Misters Black.

"What do white people have to do with me?"

Say what? Is this Dude serious? Is he on crack? Hasn't he ever looked in a mirror or maybe because he's as white as Michael Jackson was, he thinks he really is Michael Jackson and a black man. Just 'cause this cat can dance like a black man, has the moves, the swagger, and the walk and the talk of a black man, and just because Mr. White has a cock that equals Mr. Black, doesn't make him my dream black man. Oh, no.

"Ha! You're white, silly." She laughed. "White people gave us a home mortgage loan they knew we couldn't afford to pay back. Then, when they raised the rate of interest on our mortgage so high that they threw us out in the street and we were homeless with nothing but the clothes on our backs, well, we have plenty of reasons to hate you white folk. So, don't get me started on you white people, sugar," she said taking a step back to climb up on her soapbox.

"Oh, oh," he said with a laugh. "You white folk? Should I put up my heat shield to protect my white ass?" He looked at her and smiled. "Don't lump me in with that bunch of greedy bankers."

"From the cradle to the grave, from jobs, education, opportunity, even diet, we are denied, prejudiced against, redlined, blackballed, despised, hated, and targeted. The only time they want us is when we buy whatever it is they're selling or voting for whoever they are hoping to put in office to put us asunder," said Desiree.

"That's tragic that the bank took your home, but the banks, the same banks we all bailed out did the same thing to white people, too. Color is not the only thing that people are prejudiced against and target, so let's not even go there," said Anthony

"Still, nothing has changed, since you white people brought us here from Africa. We're still your slaves and you're still the masters."

A lifetime of anger, she couldn't believe she was taking out all the prejudice used against her on him.

"You white people?" He laughed. "You're still so very pretty when you're angry, but you're prettier when you smile."

"Thank you," she beamed. "I'm sorry," she said looking around her. "Here we are at a Halloween party supposed to be having a good time and I'm being the bitch that I never knew I was."

"It's okay. Listen, Desiree, I have an idea."

"What?"

"What if we took to heart the words of Michael Jackson's song," he said taking her hands in his and looking in her eyes, while singing, "But, if you're thinkin' about my baby, it don't matter if you're black or white."

"See, now, had you sung to me, instead of danced with me, I'd immediately know you were a white boy," she said with a laugh. "Stick with dancing because you're a terribly singer. When American Idol comes callin' to your city, stay home," she said with a laugh, while moving her head like a bobble doll again and pushing a finger against his chest, "because you're as much Michael Jackson, as I'm Janet Jackson."

"Sorry," he said, "but it was the lyrics more than my singing voice that was my point. It doesn't matter if we're black or white, when it comes to love. And I think you're much prettier than Janet Jackson ever was."

"Say what? So now you love me? Is that you're game? Pretending to love me, just to bone me? You don't even know me, yet you're already saying all that I need to hear to take your white cock in my mouth, before taking it in my pussy," she said not responding to his compliment, but swooning with the thought that he thought she was much prettier than Janet Jackson ever was. Wow.

"No, of course I don't love you. You're right, I barely know you. Yet, how can I grow to love you, if you don't even give me chance to discover all that you are, a proud, beautiful, intelligent, and articulately vocal, black woman," he said with a laugh, while stepping forward, putting his hands on her hips, and giving her a peck on her lips.

With the adage of sometimes a little means so much more in the peck that he gave her, she looked at him with shocked surprise that he kissed her. As if she had just been plugged into a wall outlet, she surged with desire for him.

"So, what's your idea?"

"What if we just ate together and didn't call it a date. There's already a buffet at this Halloween Masquerade Ball. Let's grab some food, sit somewhere, and talk."

"I can do that," she said.

He escorted her to the buffet table and they took their food to a quiet corner where they talked and got to know one another better. After some food, a couple more drinks, some deep and light conversation mixed with plenty of laughs, it was obvious that they had the start of something that could develop into a meaningful relationship.

Unsure of what to do, she prolonged giving him the go ahead look to kiss her, until the Halloween dance was nearly over. They danced every other dance and during one of the dances towards the end of the evening, she gave him the look and he kissed her. Then, with that one, real, first kiss, they were nearly making out on the floor.

While kissing and kissing her, he was feeling the round, firm contours of her ass with one hand and feeling her firm C cup breast with his other. He wasn't the only one taking sexual liberties, as she was feeling the hardness of his cock with one hand and grabbing his ass with her other. So hot for one another that if they could have made love right there, they would have.

"I don't suppose we should go back to your place he said, knowing how your family feels about white people," he said with a laugh.

"Not unless you have a death wish," she said with a smug laugh.

"If you'd like to see where this goes, we can go back to my place. I mean, only if you want. There's no pressure."

"Okay," she said. "Just let me tell Venus that I'm leaving with you and won't be needing a ride home," she said reaching in her purse and pulling out a pen and paper and handing it to him.

"What this?"

"Write down your name and cell phone number. If I come up missing, my brothers will know how to find you," she said with a serious look and a half laugh.

"Okay, sure, no problem," he said with a nervous laugh. "I don't mind. That's smart," he said writing his information.

"Thank you," she said handing the paper to Venus.

"Only, I could have given you any name and phone number," he said with smugness. Then, his cell phone rang. "Excuse me a minute," he said pulling his phone from his pocket and answering it. "Hello?"

"Hi Anthony. This is Venus."

Anthony looked across the dance floor and returned Venus's wave with a laugh.

"Good thing I gave you the correct information," he said to Desiree.

"I wouldn't be going anywhere with you, if you hadn't. A girl can't trust anyone nowadays."

They walked out to the parking lot and once inside the car, they started making out again, as if they were horny teenagers at a prom.

"You'd better take me to your place because I don't want to do it in the car," she said and embarrassed that she confessed to him that she was ready to go all the way, instead of playing the coy diva.

Anthony drove her to his place, a one bedroom, one and a half bath bachelor's pad that had a living room, office, and a small balcony that overlooked the city. He took Desiree by the hand to his bedroom and to his bed, where they made out as if their parents weren't home.

She allowed him to touch her wherever he wanted and she unzipped, unbuttoned, and unbuckled his pants to give her more access to his stiff prick. He kissed her with more passion than any man has ever kissed her. He was pushing all of her buttons and she knew she'd be sucking and fucking him silly soon. While he worked to unbutton her blouse and remove her breasts from her bra, she fondled, caressed, and rubbed his cock through his underwear.

Finally, with her breasts free, as soon as he started fingering and sucking on her nipples, is when she removed his cock from his underwear.

"I've never seen a white cock, before," she said staring at it. "It's so pink."

"Do you like my cock?"

"I love your cock, Anthony," she said staring at his cock, while stroking him, before looking up at him, leaning into to him and kissing him.

"Tell me what you like, baby."

For sure, she'd be sucking on this white boy. Every time he called her baby, in the way he said the word, as if chewing on it before saying it, in the way that Elvis used to do, she melted.

"My nipples are what do it for me, Anthony," she said breathlessly. "If you keep fingering, pulling, twisting, and sucking my nipples in the way you are, I'll be sucking your cock."

Slowly she stroked his cock stopping only to finger the head of his big prick.

"That feels good just what you're doing, Desiree," he said looking at her. "I can't believe you're here with me. You're so extraordinarily beautiful, baby."

"You're not so bad yourself, Anthony. You're a handsome man," she said sliding down the bed to take him in her mouth.

"Oh, baby," he said. "Suck my cock, baby."

There it is. There's that word. Desiree sucked his cock, as if he was a giant Sugar Daddy all day sucker. Licking and twirling her skilled tongue around the head of his cock, she took him deep in her mouth, while stroking him faster and faster.

"I love sucking your cock, Anthony, but call me baby," she said removing his cock from her mouth to speak. "I like it when you call me baby," she said looking up at him with his cock still in her mouth.

"Easy there, baby, or you'll make me prematurely cum, before I even have a chance to enjoy the rest of you."

"Okay, honey," she said moving up to find his lips again and to feel his mouth on her nipples.

In one fluid motion, he had her panty down and off. His hand found her wetness and his fingers returned the pleasure that she had just given him with her mouth.

"I can't wait to be inside you, Desiree."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Fuck me, Anthony. Let me feel all of you deep inside me."

Quickly, they removed the rest of their clothes and Anthony mounted her. With most men, their passion increases with the removal of clothes, but in the case of Anthony, as it was in the case of Desiree, as if they had already done this a hundred times before, their passion increased from a slow burn, before enflaming to an inferno.

A first for both, he had never been with a black woman and she had never been with a white man. To see them in the dim moonlight, he so white and she so dark, a yin and yang of rolling and humping lovemaking, they complimented one another, in the way that a man and a woman can when finally coming together, after they were meant to be.

It was obvious with their first kiss, a peck really, that Anthony gave her at the masquerade party that there were sparks and when they kissed, while dancing, their connection reached a higher level. Yet, what was different was, instead of launching a rocket to the moon, their passion built in the way an orchestra builds a crescendo during a symphony, slowly but loudly at the end.

He fucked her, as if he had a turbine engine inside of his pelvis. Her tits were bouncing up and down and side to side from the action of his piston like hips.

"Oh, Lord. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, Anthony. Never have I felt such pure pleasure. Lord Almighty. Thank you, Jesus. I'm cumming. Damn, honey, you're going to make Mama cum. The first time anyone has made me cum, while fucking me," she said out of breath. "Don't stop, honey. Don't stop. Oh, sweetie, that feels so good. Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Wow! Yes! Yes! Yes! Ooh, ooh, ooh, oh, honey, oh, sweetie, that was so good."

That stayed like that with him on top of her, until she rolled him over and with his cock still in side of her, she slowly and seductively moved her hips, while rhythmically humping him hard again. Then, they made love, real love, instead of fucking. They kissed a thousand times. Never has she felt such sheer pleasure and desire for any man, as she now felt for Anthony.

"Did you cum?" She moved off him and took his cock in her hand.

"No, not yet," he said. "I wanted to make sure I pleasured you first."

"Well, you relax and Desiree is going to take care of her man," she said not quite believing that she already staked a claim on his heart by calling him her man.

She made herself comfortable between his legs and took him in her mouth. Immediately, his erection stiffened with her hand and mouth action.

"Oh, baby," he said. "No one has ever sucked my cock like that, Desiree."

"Yeah, well, just keep calling me baby and I'll give you the best damn blowjob you ever had."

"Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby."

"Okay, Anthony, you're giving me a headache now," she said taking his cock out of her mouth to talk and to laugh.

She sucked him, she stroked him, she sucked him again and again, as she stroked him faster and faster, until as if he were a volcano on an Hawaiian Island, he exploded in her mouth. Even after he ejaculated all the cum he had in Desiree's mouth, she continued sucking him. By the time she was done, there wasn't a drop of cum left in his cock.

"Oh, baby, that was the best blowjob I ever had."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Anthony. I love sucking your cock."

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes. No doubt, they were both thinking the same thing, but it was Anthony who said what she was thinking.

"So, now what?" He looked at her.

She looked at him, as if looking at him for the first time, but knowing that it wouldn't be the last time they were together.

"Well, I know how I feel and I never felt this way about anyone, as I feel about you," she said shocked that she was being so open an honest. Accustomed to playing games, hoping this was the real thing, she wasn't playing games now.

"Well, that's what I was hoping to hear, Desiree. I'd like to see if we have a chance at love," he said looking into her deep mahogany eyes before giving her a peck. "What do you think? Can you ask your brothers and father not to kill me to see if we have a chance at love."

"I think I can arrange for a pardon, so long as you promise to love me."

"I do."

A year later, they were married and a year after that, Desiree delivered Anthony identical twin daughters, Angela and Destiny.