Oz Beach Boy's Black Christmas

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a Christmas story in which my recurring character Matt (a muscular, well-hung, sex addicted Aussie male exhibitionist in his twenties) enjoys a sweet, surprise Christmas Day tryst with a sexy, slightly older Aboriginal woman. This story features CFNM, stripping, female-of-male body worship, nude male dancing, fellatio, cunnilingus, and one-on-one interracial sex. This is a work of complete fiction. All characters are over eighteen. I am endeavouring to write a CFNM "Oz Beach Boy" story in every Literotica category. This entry: "Interracial Love".

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It was a warm Christmas Day in Sydney, Australia. I was completely naked and covered in my own semen. The sweet sounds of Mariah Carey rang out beautifully in my ears.

As was my Christmas morning tradition, I'd just stripped nude, got down on the laminate floor of my apartment's living area, and slowly, joyously, festively jerked off to a video clip compilation of pop superstar and holiday season icon Mariah Carey's Christmas songs. I blew my load all over myself just as "All I Want For Christmas Is You" was finishing, and I felt very, very satisfied...and very, very sticky.

It might sound pretty sordid, but for me, such lurid behaviour is pretty much par for the course. Though not officially diagnosed, I'm a raging sex addict. I'm a narcissistic, incredibly well-hung Aussie male exhibitionist in my twenties who loves getting nude, preferably with women watching me. I spend hours training to get my body as ripped and muscular as I can, principally to attract as much female attention as possible. [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy's Exhibitionism Essay"]

I like to show off and put myself in potentially sexy situations whenever I can, particularly around Sydney's many beaches and secluded coastal bays. I also frequently stroll around at night on busy weekends looking for action wherever I can find it. I am constantly horny, and I've enjoyed a lot of kinky hook-ups in my time. I'm also a chronic masturbator.

I quickly showered, cleaned all the jizz off my muscular body, and pulled on some underpants. I then struggled through another Christmas morning tradition: ringing my mother. A one-time drug addict, party girl, and sex worker still desperately struggling to keep it together, my mother Tiffany abandoned me as a young child to foster care and state institutions, and our relationship has always been strained, to say the very least.

After some festive season pleasantries, my mother informed me that she'd had a particularly wild Christmas Eve, and then went into typically over-sharing detail about her crazy night. While I cringed, fifty-something Tiffany told me that she met two nineteen-year-old guys in a pub, and then went back to their share house to "get it on" afterwards. The two guys had three other nineteen-year-old housemates, who were also keen to party with the rough-edged but still very attractive Tiffany.

The sexed-up Tiffany made all the young guys strip naked, checked them all out, took photos of their dicks on her phone, and then spent the rest of the night moving between the five guys, blowing them and fucking them in turn in various combinations, which all ended with the raunchy group hosing each other off naked in the backyard very early on Christmas morning.

"I didn't do any drugs though," Tiffany said earnestly. "I can stay off the gear, but when I see a young fella's dick...I just can't help myself."

It wasn't the kind of thing a guy wants to hear from his mother on Christmas morning, but with Tiffany, I was more than used to it. And considering my very long list of sleazy sexcapades, it was certainly nothing shocking. At least Tiffany didn't mention doing anal. We wished each other all the best, Tiffany commiserated with me over the relatively recent breakup of my relationship with the extraordinary Odessa Prince, and we said a fairly warm goodbye.

About an hour later, I engaged in a new Christmas tradition: taking a phone call from my father all the way from Pelican Bay State Prison in the US. Up until earlier that year, I didn't know who my biological father was, but after a curious set of circumstances, I now knew that my father was indeed Jack "Bull" Tyson, a former American porn actor, drug addict, hardened criminal, and bank robber currently serving multiple life sentences for killing three cops and two security guards during a botched heist in the 1990s. [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy Looks For His Father"]

Jack and I had been writing each other frequently since my discovery and initial contact with him, and we had forged a strong, unusual connection almost immediately, penning each other long, involved letters about our bizarre sexual experiences. It was hardly a typical father-son relationship, but as Jack said, not many guys have a porn actor, bank robber, and convict lifer for an old man.

Jack and I had a great fifteen-minute Christmas chat over the phone, catching up with each other, and enjoying a lot of laughs. Though obviously not a character of high moral standing, Jack was a warm, funny, and very honest man, and I really, really enjoyed his company. After a great conversation, we signed off and wished each other well.

"One of the female guards has promised me a blow job later on as a Christmas treat," Jack laughed. "She's a fuckin' dump truck, but she's got a sweet lookin' mouth...she's not too bad."

"You enjoy that blow job, Jack," I responded with a laugh. "You deserve it."

"Yeah, thanks, kid," Jack said dryly. "I hope you get laid today...it's always nice to get some pussy this time of year. Hopefully you can tell me about it. Merry fuckin' Christmas, Matt."

"Thanks, Jack, you too," I responded. "I've had a totally fucking crazy Christmas this year, so a bit of action today would be utterly perfect."

After chatting with Jack "Bull" Tyson, I threw on some denim shorts and a button-up shirt and got ready to engage in my other regular Christmas Day tradition: visiting my best friend, confidante, and one-time foster sister, Darby Hamilton, who always has a party on Christmas Day to provide a warm, festive haven for her friends, many of whom have highly dysfunctional or non-existent relationships with their families.

Darby and I went through hell as teenagers while in the foster "care" of Stewart and Sharon Whittington, without question two of the most awful and utterly repugnant human beings I'd ever met in my entire life. They were truly hateful individuals.

The only positive to come out of our time with Stewart and Sharon was that Darby and I forged an extraordinary bond of friendship that would likely remain unbreakable for the rest of our lives. We looked out for each other and had a lot of laughs too. Darby is a great girl, and I love her.

Darby is a lesbian, and she has a colourful crew of sexually diverse friends. Most of Darby's pals are female, with some bisexual, some lesbians, and a few straight. There are a couple of cool, older gay guys in her group too.

The wholly understanding and non-judgemental Darby Hamilton knows all about my adventurous and often kinky sex life, which she frequently finds shocking, hilarious and slightly disturbing. It is often a cause of concern for her.

"You need help, Matt," Darby usually frowns with genuine sympathy after I detail my latest sordid experience. "You really do...you should see a professional."

Darby also knows about my love of getting naked, so most years at her Christmas party, I end up stripped down to my underwear or at least bare-chested for her friends' amusement and entertainment. Darby usually just sighs with indifference at the sight of my nude body, which she is now more than familiar with.

As I pulled up outside Darby's small, modest, single-story home an hour's drive from my own, I assumed that I would likely be stripping off my shirt at some stage again, so I'd had a wax a couple of days before. I also wore a nice, new pair of black, fitted Calvin Klein boxers in case I ended up losing my pants too. And just in case my boxers went as well, I had my man-scaped pubic bush nicely trimmed too. I was tip-top and wholly ready for that extremely exciting possibility.

I knocked on the door, and was very warmly greeted by Darby and her lesbian partner, Callie Jessup, an Aboriginal comic book artist and graphic designer with a love of physical fitness nearly as keen as my own. Callie was beautiful, and she had an amazing body to match. I'd never seen Darby happier since she'd embarked on her relationship with Callie. They were a great couple.

I'd actually helped get Darby and Callie together. [See Story: "Oz Beach Boy Plays Picnic Cupid"] Callie was a very good friend of my ex-girlfriend, Odessa Prince, who now lived in America, where she was taking care of her sick mother. The breakup wasn't a nasty one, however, and there were no issues between me and Callie as a result of it. We were all still very much friends. After lots of Christmas hugs, I walked inside with Darby and Callie, where I was met by a host of both familiar and unfamiliar faces.

I knew Darby's male friends, gay criminal lawyer Andre Kingman and the very quiet Micah Johannes, as well as Darby's gorgeous bisexual pal, Leticia, who had memorably and sneakily blown me last Christmas, but was now much more quietly and chastely in attendance with her attractive new partner, Elspeth.

There were also a few lesbians from the volunteer network that Darby engaged with, as well as a couple of gay friends of Andre's that I'd not met before. There were also a couple of older straight women from Darby's job in hotel reservations that I'd only encountered a couple of times previously.

My eye was instantly caught, however, by a beautiful Aboriginal woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties. She had thick, black hair pulled back into a neat, long braid, and her tall, curvy body was very nicely shown off by a red-and-green, Christmas-themed summer dress. Her breasts were big and full, and she had a lovely, very womanly butt. With her big, brown, soulful eyes and full lips, she also bore a very striking resemblance to Callie. She was truly gorgeous.

"Hey, Matt," Callie said with a big smile. "This is my older sister, Dakota Jessup."

I politely shook hands with Dakota and we looked each other right in the eye, an undeniable spark flickering between us. Everyone was seated around a couple of large tables in Darby's backyard, and I never really took my eyes off Dakota. I paid special attention to everything she said too.

Dakota was warm and funny, and through my questions and those of the other guests, I learned that she lived in Melbourne and had come up to Sydney the previous night to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her younger sister.

The two sisters then planned to drive up to Macksville on Boxing Day with Darby to spend a few days with Callie and Dakota's parents, who still lived in the small town five hours north of Sydney. It would mark Darby's first meeting with Callie's parents, and she was excited and very nervous.

I also learned that Dakota was a teacher at a high school in one of Melbourne's outer suburbs, and also worked as a dance instructor specialising in Aboriginal culture and movement. This was no surprise considering Dakota's firm but very womanly body, the absolute epitome of a dancer's physique.

Considerably older than me, Dakota Jessup was a very, very sexy and intriguing woman, and I was in instant lust with her. I noticed Dakota checking me out a few times, which made me very happy and hopeful indeed.

In one very exciting moment, Dakota looked at me with a sly and flirtatious smile, which she then followed by spreading her legs surprisingly wide as she got up to leave the table to grab a drink, which gave me a perfect view right up her summer dress, revealing a tiny black g-string, which showed off her milk-chocolate-coloured upper thighs. I gasped with delight.

We drank, ate, and laughed wildly as a group, enjoying each other's company, and getting looser and looser as the afternoon wore on, with a few raunchy tales being characteristically dispensed by Andre Kingman, an hilarious raconteur of note who loved to dish about his criminal clients and acquaintances on a "seriously no names" basis.

Very tipsy and roaring with laughter, Andre told the assembled group about a very wealthy, highly-regarded, philanthropic, and extremely powerful female corporate CEO who would spend weekends at her country property surrounded by naked young men whose clothing would be confiscated as they entered the main house. The CEO would invite a group of her female friends to the property, and the permanently nude young men would then be shared amongst the women over the entire weekend.

"You'd be perfect for the gig, Matt!" Andre roared. "They'd love you! Speaking of which, I think it's about time you took off your shirt!"

"I don't know," I responded. "We've got a few new guests here today...that might not be their thing, Andre. I don't want to offend anyone on Christmas Day."

"Um, just to put it out there," said Andie, one of the older straight women from Darby's job in hotel reservations, "I have no problem whatsoever with you taking off your shirt, Matt. Darby warned us it might happen. She told us you love showing off. We'd be quite happy for you to lose the shorts too. Just sayin', sweetie. You've got the greenlight from us."

"The undies can go too," said Andie's friend, Samantha, very quietly, but just loud enough for me to hear.

"Okay, all in favour of Matt taking off his shirt and shorts, say aye," Andre said loudly, and the criminal lawyer was met with an instantaneous and loudly positive response. "That looks like a yes, Matt. Merry Christmas, everyone...this is always the biggest treat of the season. Take it off, Matt!"

"Oh, my god," I groaned quietly. "You're incorrigible, Andre."

I gave all the girls and guys a smile, and then slowly stood up. I unbuttoned my shirt, not exactly sexily dragging it out, but not rushing through it either, wanting to give the moment some drama, but not turn it into a total piece of poseur silliness. Once I'd popped all the buttons on my shirt, I let it hang open a little, and noticed a few smiles.

"Don't stop there, baby," Samantha said quietly. "Don't be shy..."

"Oh, he's not shy," Leticia said while staring at the deep, hard ridges of my flat abdomen. "He's definitely not shy...trust me on that."

"And that's great for all of us here who can appreciate the male form...sorry, girls," Andre laughed, and winked at Darby's three lesbian friends, who all mock-scowled back at him.

With everyone watching me intently, I pulled my open shirt back off my shoulders, and then carefully wrenched it over my wrists and hands, revealing my bare torso in its entirety. Andie and Samantha giggled as I folded my shirt and hung it over the back of my chair.

"Even I can appreciate that," Callie said with obvious awe. "I'm a lesbian, but that is a man who really values his health and fitness. I like that. You really are in amazing shape, Matt."

"Stop it Callie, you'll make him even more up himself," Darby scoffed good-naturedly. "He spends half the day looking at himself in the mirror."

"Thanks, Callie...I work out every day," I replied, and stood with my arms gently flexed at my sides, making my huge biceps pop and bulge. "It's really important to me."

I constantly looked at Dakota Jessup, and I could tell that the beautiful Aboriginal woman liked what she saw. I noticed a huge smile spread excitedly across the Melbourne schoolteacher's very, very pretty face, and she then made no effort to disguise it as she slowly raked her soulful, deep-brown eyes up and down my bare torso. I kicked off my slides.

"Can you take off your pants, please?" forty-something Andie asked impatiently, her big, blue eyes wide with excitement. "Just because it's Christmas, sweetie."

"Yeah, yeah," I responded, and unbuttoned my denim shorts, catching a quick look at Dakota's impressive breasts, which wobbled wonderfully in her Christmas-themed summer dress.

I unzipped my shorts, and then slid them down over my butt and hips. Smiling flirtatiously at everyone, I pushed my shorts down my smooth, waxed, muscled thighs and calves, and then pulled them off over my bare feet. I stepped out of my shorts, folded them, and placed them on top of my shirt across the back of my chair.

To the sound of much giggling and quiet chatter, I stood in front of the group in just my fitted Calvin Klein trunks. I noticed a naughty smile play across Dakota's big, full lips as she sneakily glanced at the bulge of my crotch. I slowly ran my hands over my flat, smooth pecs and rock-hard six-pack, and looked at the faces -- showing a wide variety of emotions -- all staring at me. I pumped my fists to pop my biceps, making them bulge even more.

"Don't stop there," Samantha said after a long pause. "Don't stop there..."

"Whoa, whoa...wait a minute," said Morgan, one of the lesbians from the volunteer network that Darby engaged with. "I think that'll do, huh? This is all a bit of fun, but I'm not really comfortable with a guy walking around with his dick out, okay? That's a bit much."

"Okay, no worries," I responded quickly. "I'm all about consent. If you're not into it, the Calvins will well and truly stay on."

"Boooooo," Andre howled jokingly. "You lesbians are always spoiling the fun!"

"Thanks, Matt," Morgan said with a smile. "I appreciate the fact that you consider the feelings of others...unlike you, Andre, you fucking cock-hound!"

"Out and proud, sister," Andre roared with laughter. "Bring that cock on!"

Clad in just my Calvin Kelin fitted boxers, I continued to drink and laugh with everyone else. Every time I got up to grab a beer, Andie or Samantha would slyly run their hands over my butt, or gently place their long-nailed fingers on my abs or chest.

The two bawdy forty-somethings were really making the most of my near nudity. Normally, I would have been thrilled with their attentions, but I couldn't take my mind -- or my eyes -- off the divine Dakota Jessup.

Though Dakota kept her dress on, I got a nice consolation when her younger sister Callie went into the house and then re-emerged five minutes later, wearing just a skimpy bikini that showed off her flawless chocolate-coloured skin, her tight, flat stomach, her firm, mid-sized breasts, and her perfectly toned arms and legs.

"It's just so hot out here," Callie said cheekily. "I needed to cool off a bit."

My jaw dropped at the wondrous sight of Callie's body, though I was slightly disappointed that her bikini bottoms were full-back and not a g-string. The twenty-something Aboriginal woman was physically amazing, and the look of lustful admiration on her loving girlfriend Darby's face was utterly adorable.

"You're such a show-off, Callie," Darby said with a laugh. "You're nearly as bad as Matt! I'm surrounded by exhibitionists!"

Callie, Darby, Leticia, Elspeth, Dakota and the three lesbians from the volunteer network cranked up the music on a portable speaker, and got up noisily for a dance. Watching the bikini-clad Callie's muscles undulate and her tight butt wobble ever-so-slightly as she danced to the music was a massive turn-on, and I felt myself begin to engorge.

While Callie's alluring state of undress may have made her more striking, her older sister Dakota's perfectly calibrated sense of rhythm and utter ease of physical movement were a true joy to behold. Her lithe arms raised, her curved hips swaying, and her firm, full breasts bouncing beautifully in her summer dress, Dakota was a terrific dancer, moving perfectly and very sexily in time to the music.

With Dakota and the lesbians dancing, and Andre and his friends deeply involved in conversation, forty-something Andie and Samantha had eyes only for me. They constantly giggled with each other, and then turned to look at me, their eyes flicking up and down my bare torso and settling for sexily long periods on the bulge in my Calvins. I have an almost unnaturally long and thick penis, and it was clearly visible stretched out across my hip in my underwear.