Shelter from the Storm

After twenty minutes, she gasped and urged him faster. He responded and she climbed the ladder of her passion until a scream of ecstasy echoed in the night. Their passion kept going like a runaway engine, and he fought his old body as it sought its release. "Give it to me, Puddin'head, give it to me," she whispered. "I want your sperm inside me. If you can't cum in my cunt, I want to suck you down." His arms gave way and he fell on her, still thrusting with his hips as she reached another climax. She rolled him over, allowing him to rest on his back, swooping down to suck and stroke him until his long denied gonads surged in prolific orgasm, flowing out the sides of her hungry mouth and running down to make a white smudge on his black skin. Stroking his testicles to milk them dry, she sucked every drop she could from him, licking the overflow off his public hair and stomach greedily. Keeping at her work until he went flaccid, she cleaned him throughly, then rolled over to spoon against him.

They lay together on the bed, side by side, his arm over her. For a moment, Betty's vision lifted above them, where her ingrained prejudice recoiled in horror at her lily white body enclosed by his thin black one. Then she returned to the moment and savored a tender embrace she had known so rarely in her life, snuggling into her partner in gratitude.

Puddin'head lay next to Betty amazed that a woman would love him so after such a short time. Betty had done things no one did before: Paula was the only other woman who cared for him, and it was several weeks before she came to his bed. This woman was like no other, and her odd face reflected dimly in the mirror was more lovely than any he'd seen before.

A whisper broke the silence. "Stay. Please, stay. You're too precious to lose, Puddin'head."

"I will, Betty. I will."