New Beginnings

I spent Tuesday after my 'disagreement' with Daryl cleaning the house. I think the loo had never received such a scouring as I took out my pain and frustrations with the toilet brush. Then Wednesday I cooked. I went through the motions; preparing cakes and pies, making both a huge turkey and a ham as well as all the sides. It was a feast for my guests.

By Thursday, I was ready to call it all off, if not for the rows upon rows of home-made food lining the kitchen counters, but I did not want to think about kitchen counters, which were the perfect height for certain six foot African gods. I did not think he would come even though he had been to every Thanksgiving since our first. So I was shocked and pretty speechless when I opened the door to find Esther decked out in her traditional African head wrap with Daryl holding a bottle of wine right behind her. I am not sure if his presence made things harder or easier, but it certainly had me down a few more glasses of wine than I normally would.

Of course when Kyle stopped me upstairs to discuss 'how you are doing mum,' I was a bit taken aback at his words. "Mum, I know James has been gone almost nine months now. But let's be honest celibacy has never been your thing...after you and dad divorced. Well what I'm trying to say is maybe you need to get laid."

I swallowed my tongue then, because it was my conservative son saying it. I would expect such brashness from David, but not Kyle. But more so because I wondered how Kyle would feel if he knew that his friend had until very recently been making certain I 'got laid' rather frequently.

My head was spinning by the end of the night. Hell, I even dreamt that Daryl tucked me into bed. In the dream, he bent over and kissed me: one of the kinds that scared the ever-loving be-jesus out of me. He whispered, "I never meant to hurt you, Lizzie. You have to believe that." Despite waking up to an immaculate house, which I know for damned sure it wasn't when I virtually passed out, I prefer to refer to the whole thing as simply a dream.

The next week and a half were of course more of the same: work, sleep and Ellie. I kept telling myself that everything was for the best. I figured if I said it enough then the ache between my legs and the loneliness of my almost empty flat might not matter. I even thought that perhaps it might be best if Ellie and I returned to the US. But in the end I knew that would not be fair to her. She loved her family and friends; this was home...the only one she ever knew.

I must have looked like hell though. Mary attributed it to being alone for the holidays. She suggested that she take Ellie with her on a little shopping trip across the channel in Calais. She had never been there she said, but heard that she could get great bargains because of the exchange rate. She was even taking Esther. I was reluctant since the trip would mean Ellie missed a week of school just before the long Christmas holiday break. But then I remembered that at just three and a half years old, schools were more about play and fun; seeing a new country with her family would be a great opportunity.

I realised as I packed her stuff that Sunday though that the real reason I didn't want her to go was because I would be alone for five days. I tried to actually remember the last time I had been alone. David was twenty-three so that meant it had been at least twenty-four years, but my memories failed to find the specific occasion. I thought maybe Kyle was right. Daryl's was not the only big black cock in London, although I had to admit given my over quarter of a century of sexual experience that his was special.

I saw the group off that Monday morning at St Pancreas. Ellie's little light brown hand had its fingers laced through her Unca's fingers; her Nan and Esther were chatting about the presents they wanted to get. Perhaps I should have arranged a couple of days off or even just gone with them for part of the trip, but Esther had insisted that I should just rest. Like I said, I must have looked like shit.

I worked on Monday night, but then had the next three days off, so I planned to at least try and take her up on the suggestion. And if that failed, I had ordered a new book by Odent on caesarean births. I was going to be speaking at an upcoming in-service about his work.

My shift on Monday was about average: not too busy or stressful. But it was enough to tire me out. So I was quite happy to slip between my new sheets on Tuesday morning as the sun rose over the gold and brown tree tops. I had to buy new sheets because even when I washed the others, they smelled of sex: hot sex.

My dreams though were rather fitful and filled with young African gods and gorgeous uncut black cock. It had been a while since dreams got me this hot. I came awake slowly as I felt the wet between my thighs I realised the dream had been enough to actually make me cum in my sleep, "Holy fuck," I exclaimed rolling over.

And into a solid wall of broad black chest, "Dam Lizzie, that must have been some dream," he smiled before lowering his head to kiss my lips full on. His hand moved up to cup my bare breast since I always slept naked. His thick fingers rolled the hardening nipple between them until I moaned into his throat. His other hand travelled slowly down my body until it pried my thighs apart and his fingers slipped inside my wet pussy; as if he needed to confirm for himself how hot the dream had been.

That was enough. My hips lifted off the bed to meet his firm caress as his fingers found my g-spot. The stimulation on my nipples twinned with it were overpowering as I came so hard that I am sure my cunt juices must have been gushing down his dark fingers. I was whimpering and quivering as the sexual tensions of two weeks were released.

His soft thick lips caressed across my face to my ear as he whispered, "I've missed this too." His fingers continued their rhythmic thrusting inside me as his tongue trailed down the side of my neck. His weight shifting lower as his lips found the light brown of my puckered nipple. It was his turn to whimper as he sucked it deep into his warm mouth. I felt his cock against my thigh grow impossibly hard as I knew he was enjoying his own little fetish: my creamy white tits.

I came repeatedly as his mouth worked back and forth for several minutes between my ample boobs. His fingers inside me thrust in and out; then slipping slowly out to find the nub of my clit, slick and peeking from beneath its hood. "Please," I whined and whimpered.

His breath was hot across my chest as he replied, "Please what, Lizzie? Please eat your wet white pussy until you cum all over my face?" He punctuated the image with a firm bite to my right nipple then. It was followed by a long slow lick as if to apologise. "Please fuck you...long and hard...and deep...until your hot pussy squeezes every last drop of cum out of my balls?" He repeated the action this time on my left nipple. Before he looked up at me, his chin resting in the valley between my tits as his finger continued to stroke my clit. "Or both?"

He shifted his weight then lowering his body so that the dark braids of his head were between my open thighs. "I think you told me once that this is an acceptable way to wake you up, Lizzie."

I could almost feel the wetness creeping slowly down the walls of my cunt as I watched his dark thick fingers parting my pale shaved pussy lips. Over the past decade I had accepted that the visual stimulation of black and white was a huge turn-on for me: never more so than at this moment.

By the time he lowered his head and slowly drew my clit between his teeth as his gaze held mine, I was ready to cum yet again. His smile was broad at my response to his touch, "I want to hear you scream, Lizzie. You never have. Our families are gone, so..." he left the sentence unfinished, but not my clit. His tongue flicked back and forth across the sensitive flesh until my hips were undulating beneath him.

After over two decades of the 'mummy voice' as I called the low throaty moans and biting into pillows or my lips, when I would have been louder; the very idea of freely screaming out in pleasure was completely foreign to me. But I think Daryl may have considered this a challenge of another sort. Rising up so that he was kneeling above me then, he reached for the pillow and tucked it beneath my hips. "Get comfy, Lizzie cause I am not stopping until you do," he boasted.

He winked before lowering his head once more to the task of making me scream...or was that cream. His tongue slowly licked from my arse up to my clit, then paused to nibble at it before actually tongue fucking my dripping wet pussy.

"Fuck," I bit between gritted teeth. Is it possible to actually feel a smile on your pussy?

As he breathed across my clit, "That was NOT a scream, Lizzie," he challenged.

"Please stop," I pleaded having already cum so much that my clit was swollen and throbbing painfully.

Sliding so slowly up my body that I felt like every inch of my skin was catching fire, he rose above. He smiled again as he bent slowly forward to kiss me so that I tasted the musky tang of my cunt upon his tongue. "Then I'll have to make you scream another way, Lizzie," he announced as he rubbed his hard cock against my thigh. "Put me inside you," he commanded.

God dam, I thought then; having stupidly tossed the couple of remaining condoms in the bin that Tuesday when I was cleaning. I had not wanted any reminder of what I was missing. I shook my head, no. "I can't. I don't have any condoms."

"Wouldn't matter, because we aren't using them," he purred as a soft challenge against the side of my neck as he took my hand in his much larger one and drew it to his hard cock; my fingers were not even able to encircle it. "Put me inside you, Lizzie," this time his voice even deeper as he thrust his hips up. When I did not immediately obey, he used his other hand to turn my face back towards him, "Lizzie, we both need this bad so put my damned cock in your cunt."

I tried to think of something...anything...other than the strong steady pulse I could feel beating along the length of his cock in my hand. But at that moment thinking was more about the throbbing between my legs that had waited two weeks to feel this once more. It was almost an involuntary thing as my hand that was wrapped about his cock slowly moved then towards my waiting cunt; as if I had no choice.

I am not sure which of us sighed louder at the first touch of his cock slipping into my cunt. I know that my back arched so high off the bed at the unbelievable feeling of fullness that my soft tits scraped across the wiry hairs of his chest. His hands on my hips pinned me beneath him. Was it possible that he too was so close to orgasm that he feared any movement would unleash the same strong contractions that were claiming me now?

He waited for my body to relax with just the tip of his impressive cock wedged inside my still quivering cunt. Then slowly he slipped in deeper as if he too wanted to savour the feel of each stroke before we gave into other needs that called so strongly. I whimpered as I tried to move my hips beneath him but his hold on them was too strong. Nuzzling his face against my neck once more, he whispered "That still was not a scream, Lizzie."

His hip withdrew then until just the tip of his cock was inside me once more, "What do I have to do to make you scream?" he asked as he surged into me fast this time; taking my breath from my lungs. My fingers gripped his shoulders then as if to find something solid on which to hold as the whole world spun beneath me. "Tell me you want this, Lizzie...that you want me," he demanded as he drove over and over into me then.

"Yes! Fuck yes. I want this," I whinged in a decidedly non-mummy voice this time.

Holding perfectly still then with at least eight inches buried deep in me and more than a few not, "Look at me," his voice was commanding but it was the crack in it that drew my attention to his face a few mere inches from my own. "Tell me you want me, Lizzie."

I felt conflicted. I knew on some deeper level what he was asking and I was not sure that I ready for this; for any of this. But in the end, honesty demanded that I not lie. I did want him. I tried though to get away with simply nodding my head in response. But that brought only the tenderest of kisses. I decided that the truth spoken aloud might offer more safety than that path. "Yes, Daryl...I want you," I whispered.

My hard fought admission seemingly sufficient at least for the moment he resumed where we had left off; surging into me over and over...and over...and over again. My orgasms were hard and came one upon the other. I felt his hands on my hips shift then. Rather than pinning me beneath him, they moved beneath my arse so that he was lifting me up to meet each of his strong thrusts.

It was a cold December morning even inside the flat so I was more than a bit surprised to realise that both of our bodies were glistening with the sheen of sweat. I had always been fascinated the idea of pheromones contained in sweat. I found myself suddenly and curiously drawn to lift my head and lick softly at the beads glistening on the dark skin of his chest. Salty, but definitely something...more.

He moaned at the touch of my hot mouth on his skin as he continued to pound into me. "Lizzie, don't...not now," he pleaded.

It was my turn to smile as I realised that someone was not Superman and maybe I had found another of his kryptonites. My tongue swept solidly across his chest then, enjoying the raspy feel of the hair as my lips found his dark nipple and drew it slowly into my mouth. "FUCK," he spat in accusation as his hands firmly lifted my arse further off the pillow. He tilted my hips so that he could slam even deeper and harder into me.

I could tell he was close by the tightness and flexing I felt in his muscles; the bulging biceps and triceps beneath my fingers, the smooth pectorals beneath my mouth, but especially the throbbing cock buried so deeply in my wet cunt. If I had been thinking I would have tried to slow things down, get things back in control, but the only thing doing any thinking at that moment was the squeezing and quivering mass of muscles and nerve endings called my cunt.

My mouth though was still working; moving now to the other nipple. I bit it softly until it too pebbled at my touch. That is when I felt Daryl's cock buried so deeply in me swell even more as he slammed into me hard. I felt his whole body tense as I felt the first hot spurt of cum of hit deep within my pussy. The feeling was intoxicating as I too came hard; milking even more from him. I am not ashamed to say that he got what he wanted either. I cried out then as I came: screamed a more accurate description.

My heart rate and breathing were slowly returning to normal. Daryl had half rolled to his side so that he leaned his face against his forearm as he looked down at me. Of course, the fact that I could still feel the pulse beating in his erect cock that remained buried deeper inside me than he had ever managed to get if before was not helping the rising sense of panic in my mind.

As if sensing my mood, he repeated a move I had once used with him. His dark hand covered my mouth as he spoke. "Let's talk about those rules of yours, Lizzie," he began.

"Rule one...I know I have pushed you too fast. And I promise to try and be patient. But this is not just about cock as you so in-eloquently put it. So yes...eventually...I want our families to know." I was shaking my head and trying to make various protests against his hand, but to no avail.

"Rule two? Just to put your little mind at rest the reason I'm so damned sure I'm clean is that you are the only woman I have ever gone bare with cause that means something to me. You trust the person enough to take care of you, to keep you safe, to be just with you. To make something else perfectly clear...I hope eventually we do make a baby: a beautiful light skinned boy to match our perfect little princess." I tried in vain then to get up in stark terror as his one hand over my mouth and his other rubbed softly across my lower belly as if a medicine man calling forth life.

I am sure that he must have seen complete panic in my eyes then. But he always was a quick learn. "Perhaps you need a little convincing?" He spent the next three days doing just that. When I went back to work on Thursday, I could hardly walk.

***

"FUCK!" I have no trouble screaming this time. Of course that first scream was probably what fucking got me here...or one of the hundreds of others during those three days of lessons. But at this point I cared less about that or about the partially shocked and laughing look that Marge gave me.

Turning my head into Daryl's shoulder, I pleaded "Get me out of here."

A deep chuckle rose from his chest beneath me, "Where would you like to go, Lizzie? Paris? A stroll in the garden?"

I hate that arrogant laugh. I have heard it more than enough. "Piss off," I bit between gritted teeth.

Kissing my forehead once more he offered, "No, Lizzie. Where do you want to go?" I ignored, of course, the hours of work that he had put into turning the study into a birthing suite: complete with a nice warm birthing pool. He had carefully read all the books on my shelf and chosen the perfect place for a mammalian birth. It was smallest room in the flat, warm, and dark with only a small lamp in the corner. He had wanted candles but I pointed out that my sense of smell might not accommodate that during labour.

Whimpering like a cry baby, "I want our bed, please." I did feel a tad guilty after all his hard work. But what I really wanted was to fall asleep in said bed and forget this fucking pain.

Standing and lifting my weight as well, he steadied me with one arm wrapped about my middle: well almost...but considering the size of Daryl's arms the fact that it would not wrap all the way was even more depressing. He reached across for towels draping a large one over me and rubbing gently then wrapping another about his middle. He helped me from the pool slowly as we both dripped on the tarp beneath it.

I clutched his forearms and collapsed against his chest as the next contraction hit: unbuffered now by the soothing water and more intense with the help of gravity in the standing position. I was not ready for that.

"Fuck this," Daryl spat vehemently as he scoped my rather substantial frame up in his arms. Using his foot he unceremoniously kicked the door open and carried me to our room and bed. Marge rushed ahead tossing back the duvet and piling the pillows against the headboard.

I tossed trying to find a semi-comfortable, hell even manageable, position. Kissing my forehead as he grabbed his track bottoms, "I'll be right back."

Marge smiled as he ducked out to change from the wet trunks into something dry before things progressed more. "Complicated," she laughed referring to a long ago exchange.

I tried hard to smile as I felt another contraction begin.

Chapter Five

It was not as if those three days completely erased my very real concerns, but they did give me a great deal to think about. I realised that I was being a cold-hearted bitch. Just because of his age, I had somehow thought it alright to treat Daryl in a way that I myself would have resented. But there were also more than a few moments when I desperately wanted to run away; as he had said he had pushed me way too fast. He was though very convincing, I thought smiling.

***

"Now that is something we have not seen in a while," Marge broke my reverie as I looked up from the charts I had been trying to work upon.

Shaking my head slightly, "What?" I asked.

"A real smile on your face. Which of these arrogant bastards is it?" she inquired.